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woozydaydreams · 9 days ago

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'Cause You've Been So Out of Touch

paring(s): Huntr/X & Saja Boys x reader

Warning(s): Changes in the movie, Saja Boys made-up lore (that I will be adding onto, [name] is somewhat a part of it), make-up scenes/lore.

Divider Creds: @cafekitsune

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Chapter 1 - Lost Memories

A beeping sound sounded across the [h/c] girl’s room. She lifted her head from her stomach-lying position before shutting off the alarm clock. Ruffling her hair, she slid off her bed and put on her slippers. Then, she turned on the news on her TV and went to brush her teeth.

[name] liked the background noise, finding herself immersed in the world rather than standing in peer silence.

“Reporting in, fans outraged and hurt after the number one ranked group, “Huntr/x” canceled their live performance of their newly released promo, “Golden.” Instead of refunds, they want their performance. Any updated news other than the fact that they’ve canceled has not been revealed, as their manager has been dealing with the refunds and updates. Going to the weather channel, Jin-ho-nim will catch us up.”

[name] finished her breakfast before shutting off the TV. She then looked at her phone as her parents messaged her, “Before heading out, make sure to lock the door, and be sure to be safe throughout the day, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” [name]’s father wasn’t great at words affectionately; he is better through actions, so [name] knew this was his way of saying “Love You”.

She knew her mother probably forgot, which always allowed her father to remind her.

Enough about their love story.

[name] still lived with her parents. A couple of times, she did think about getting her type of living situation, but whenever she brought it up, her parents would just encourage her to keep living with them, so she agreed since there were more benefits in doing so anyway.

Finally making her way to the cafe she unlocked the back of the building with her keycard before it automatically locked and got into her apron, they didn’t have a set uniform, they just had to make sure that what you were wearing wouldn’t be unprofessional and wouldn’t cause too much trouble or get in the way with things as they were working.

She tied her hair back and made sure it was secure so that it wouldn’t cause any violations before unlocking the front door and putting some ice and water in her water bottle before getting back to the cash register.

The door chimed, the quick ring of the bell invaded her eyes, melodic, but also a reminder that she was not going to be able to go home anytime soon.

Five attractive men entered the cafe, but it was almost every day that someone came into the cafe and was attractive, so she just smiled and welcomed them in.

UrmmmBa~

[name] blinked, although her smile hadn’t been removed from her face, she rubbed her ears, wondering what that sound was.

“Welcome to MoonHoney Cafe, how may I assist you?”

“What do you recommend?” The leader of the group spoke up, he had black hair and aside from the fact that the entire group themselves looked like models, he stood out as the others were just looking around, observing around and admiring(?) the cafe.

“Straight black coffee.”

“Great, we’ll take five of those.” He leaned against the counter, his eyes glowed a golden yellow, but she turned away, seeing that some paper cups had fallen. She turned back toward the man, and for now would ignore the cups.

“Awesome, hot or cold?”

“Hot.”

“Do you have a preferred option?”

“No.”

“Dark roast it is. Size?”

“Not too much, but not too little.”

“I’ll do a sixteen ounce for you. For here or to go?”

“For here.”

“$21.64.” He handed her a crumpled-up $50, and she gave back the change

“Name for the order?”

“Jinu.”

“Alright, you can sit anywhere you want while you wait.”

[name] turned around before putting some coffee grains onto a scale to measure the amount out before letting it be turned into dust in the coffee grinding machine whenever another group of people arrived.

A bunch of tired teens entered.

“Welcome to MoonHoney, what can I get you guys today?”

“Okay, I want a matcha latte with whipped cream and wafers on the side, he wants a marshmallow chocolate caramel mocha with extra foam and almond milk not whole milk with a croissant and she wants a vanilla frap with two pumps of lavender flavor and extra, and I mean extra, oreo chunks on top. All of these should be medium, and also it’s to go.” [name] took down the order before ringing them up.

“So, what’s with the long faces?” [name] poured all the brewed dark roast coffee into fancy ceramic cups before ringing the bell at the front of the desk.

“For… Jinu!” she announced, placing all the coffees on the tray at the front desk before turning back to the teenage group. The group of guys themselves grabbed their coffees and sat a little closer.

“It’s Huntr/X! I begged my mom to buy a ticket last night just for it to cancel so suddenly, like, it was announced canceled five minutes before, too! That’s just cruel, with no notice! We were so excited seeing a group perform live and up close!”

Weirdly enough, the door slightly blew open, letting the bell chime as a paper flew towards the group.

“Free, live performance from the ‘Saja Boys’ singing their new single, 'Soda Pop'?" the group shared a look and shrugged.

“Might as well, what else were we planning to do anyway…”

As the day passed, it was midday, and [name] closed the shop for a bit as her break had started and headed down an alleyway before entering “Doctor Han’s Tonics.”

He sold “tonics,” but they were just grape juice. She got it for a low price, and it was nice talking to him a few times. She. Honestly couldn’t believe that his store hadn’t closed down yet, as last time she checked, no one went there.

Unless they wanted to get scammed.

“Ah, I see, I see… No, actually, I don’t see. Very strange. You have a lot of walls up.”

A perky voice spoke up, “Whoa! He’s so good, right?”

Toning out the conversation, [name] focused in on the girls; they weren’t the best at disguises, but that was another conversation for another time.

“So that’s the girl mom was talking about,” [name] thought in her head, the corner of Rumi’s sleeve lifted, revealing patterns, which she hastily pulled down.

It seemed the group hadn’t noticed her yet.

She listened to how Doctor Han described them.

Zoey, energetic, a people pleaser, and in need of validation and praise, just so she knows she’s not being too much.

Mira, closed off, blunt, short temper, a bit rude at times, but only acting like that towards strangers and not people close to her, maybe afraid of being attached, or likely afraid of abandonment, which tie in together.

Rumi, walls are up, afraid to express secrets in fear of rejection, scared of her true self, and keeps to herself, covering up in more ways than one to both of the girls, despite the close friendship, maybe some type of influence encourages said acts. Fear of the truth, the unknown.

“Just give us the voice juice.” Mira backed up Rumi.

“Hm… I know just the tonics you need.” Just when Doctor Han was about to walk away, [name] stopped him.

[name] coughed in her fist, letting Doctor Han finally notice her, you’d think she was here to rob the place with the way he put on an unimpressed face.

The girls in their chairs tensed up, trying to cover their identities as [name] smiled at Doctor Han.

[name] had gotten lost one day, and mysteriously had went into Doctor Hans shop, he gave her free “tonics” and both her parents were frantic when Doctor Han contactated them (he was surprise a young girl her age wasn’t panicking and remembered her parents number) overall, she got free grape juice, now discounted and he got a picture with a celebrity and CEO. So a win was a win.

“Ajusshi, what’s with the long face? Your favorite kid is here, and you aren't going to greet me?” [name] grinned, but he only sighed and continued going to retrieve Rumi’s “tonics”.

“I’ll get your usual, just stay in the waiting room this time.”

That left her alone with the three girls in the room, a silent, tense atmosphere erupted before [name] popped it, saying some things, “Shame that your voice isn’t doing well, many people were excited for the concert.”

“Oh- well- yeah, I guess we should introduce ourselves-” Rumi stuttered before nodding at the other girls.

“We are Hunters voices strong, hi we are, Hunter/X” Rumi started their introduction before they all stated their names.

“Right, Celine-ssi’s girls. I hope your voice gets better, oh, and Dr. Han might seem like a quack doctor, and while his “tonics” aren’t the best, his advice is… so, I'd listen to him if I were you guys.” Their eyes widened when [name] mentioned Celine.

Before they could respond, Doctor Han had already returned with the “tonics” for both Rumi and [name]. The girls quickly left while [name] plopped down onto the chair before focusing on the wall.

“You’re still here?”

“Relax, you’d be lonely without me anyway.” Doctor Han could only grumble like the old man he was.

[name] looked at the picture frame, and each one had some famous person/people on it. Some he was actually in, others he glued himself on… someone had to teach him Photoshop one of these days.

Her eyes narrowed down on four boys, all young.

“Ajusshi?”

“What is it, kid?”

“Who were those boys?”

Doctor Han adjusted his glasses to focus on the picture she was pointing at before letting out a sigh.

“They were once popular, they were your age, when a freak accident happened, and well, they unfortunately passed.”

“Really? How come I haven't heard of them before?”

“Oh, you have.”

“It was the prime time of this shop; celebrities, models, idols, actors, and even up-and-coming people visited this shop.”

“Right…”

“Who raised you to interrupt your elders 🤨”

“Sorry, Ajusshi, continue.”

“As I was saying, this young group of boys had entered this place, they purchased some items, and after I offered for them to be put on this wall. It was one of the real encounters I had with a celebrity. They were around the same age as you, maybe a few years older.” Doctor Han had his hands on his back, gazing at the picture.

“They were sweet boys, I had written journals, I became their therapist, they stated I could 'read' people, and so I tried my best to support them. But one day they changed, in the blink of an eye, they had become famous, too busy to visit my shop, according to some news articles, they kept having arguments and tensions were rising.” Doctor Han shook his head. It seemed that bringing this up was an unpleasant memory.

“One day, their manager was off duty, somehow leading them to drive, who knew that during an argument, they would end up getting into a car accident.”

“It’s ironic, their group was called “Starry NightS, now they are the stars in the night sky.” Doctor Han pursed his lips.

“They were good kids, and before the fame and glory, they were teenage boys who were best friends with each other, with their problems they didn't have time to resolve. If only I had reached out to them… oh, what is this old man blabbering about? I was planning to get rid of my journal entries on them soon anyway; dwelling on old memories isn’t good for my age.”

[name] was interested in the boys; it wasn’t every day that a famous boy group band just went off the radar that quickly, and she swore to whoever that she had seen some individuals so dann familiar, and still she couldn't decipher it.

“I’ll take them, Ajusshi!” [name] sprang up, he only raised his eyebrow before gesturing for her to follow and handing her a little box of journals.

“All these journals were on those boys?”

“No more, no less, are you sure you can carry that yourself?”

“I carry heavy boxes for the cafe, I'll be fine… take care of yourself, Ajusshi.”

“You too, [name].”

[name] set the boxes aside before bowing and saying goodbye to Doctor Han, before heading out and back to the cafe, before a sing melody caught her attention.

She glanced at the figures dancing in the center before glancing at the opposing side, the same girls from before, well, from Huntr/X and the guys from the cafe but not just from the cafe… somewhere more familiar, almost like she just saw them, she just couldn't put her finger on it.

Guys, since they are in Korea, I try to use honorifics and titles, so if any of y'all are experts, please correct me on any of the usage.

Upon much thinking I decided to expand it because I love make shit up and adding to plot.

Also, can we talk about the fact that there is still so much left unanswered from the movie? Hopefully, they will come out with a sequel, and if not, here you go answering some unanswered questions with fake news.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁TAGLIST ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. @doggyteam2028 @jammycheese @p1nkpaperstars @whimsiecatcat @call-me-nyxx @ffcfffr @hornehlittleweeblet2 @momentomoribitch @pinkiria-ghost @ny0000mw00m @minkyungseokie @inojinieeee

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁UNSURE IF WANTED TO GET TAGGED ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. @kashasenpai @gremlinartstudio @yin-yun @adorabluesposts

I think that should be all the people who wanted to get tagged, and hopefully, I tagged all the right people.

#kpop demon hunters x reader #kpop demon hunters #huntr/x #huntrix #huntr/x x reader #saja boys #saja boys x reader #rumi x jinu #rumi x reader #jinu x reader #mira x reader #zoey x reader #baby x reader #mystery x reader #abby x reader #romance x reader #kpdh

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i2rizz · 3 months ago

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Ngl im CRAVING dante content from the netflix adaptation and its not even funny anymore...

Trust im boutta BUST

Steamin Hot!

The door shut with a familiar thunk—heavy, careless, like the man himself. You didn’t even flinch.

You’d grown used to it: the clink of his weapons, the way he dropped his coat on your chair like it wasn’t your favorite, how his boots always left demon gunk on the rug you’d begged him not to ruin.

And still, your stomach fluttered.

He was already halfway to the bathroom, shirt hanging from his shoulder, the slice of pizza you’d made him take on the way up still dangling from his mouth like an afterthought.

"Long day?" you asked without looking up from your spot on the couch, cross-legged and wrapped in one of his shirts—oversized, a little torn, and still warm from the dryer.

Dante grunted. "Demons don’t take weekends. Apparently" He bit the slice, chewed, and finally turned to look at you. "You wearing my shirt again?"

You smirked, flipping the page of your book. "You left it here. Possession’s nine-tenths of the law"

"Is that so?" he muttered, already tugging off his belt. "Guess I should start leaving more stuff around, then"

You didn’t look—but you felt it. The weight of his stare. That flicker of something heavier behind the teasing. He was tired. You could see it in the way his shoulders slumped just before he disappeared into the bathroom, muttering something about "needing to boil off the stink"

The sound of the shower filled the apartment a moment later—hot, hissing steam bleeding into the hallway like smoke curling off a cigarette. You let out a slow breath and stared at your book without reading.

Five minutes passed. Ten.

You heard the water stop.

He didn’t come out right away.

Eventually, the door cracked open.

You didn’t look at first. You were trying to be normal. Chill. Unbothered.

But then you caught the sound of his bare feet padding across your wooden floor—and the scent hit you. Clean skin. Soap. A little sweat, still. All him.

He appeared beside the couch like a ghost: towel low on his hips, hair wet and slicked back except for the few silver strands that clung rebelliously to his forehead. Drops of water rolled down the carved lines of his torso, trailing down into the soft dip of his abs. His necklace—the one he never took off—glinted against his chest.

"Shower’s all yours" he said lazily.

You finally looked up, slowly, your eyes trailing from his face to the rest of him with zero shame. "Did you even dry off or did you just steamroll out to flex?"

He smirked, one corner of his mouth tugging up. "Can’t help it if you’re the one staring, sweetheart"

You tossed a pillow at him. He caught it effortlessly, didn’t even flinch.

"Cocky bastard"

"Your cocky bastard" he said, dropping the pillow and then—uninvited—dropping himself onto the couch next to you, his skin still warm and damp. "Unless that changed while I was gone"

You rolled your eyes, but didn’t move. His thigh pressed against yours. You could feel every heartbeat in that contact.

"I don’t know," you murmured, "depends. You planning on stealing all my hot water every time you crash here?"

He leaned in, slow, so close his breath brushed your cheek. "Maybe"

You swallowed. Your brain short-circuited for a second.

Dante noticed.

His grin deepened, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he reached behind you—his arm brushing your back—and grabbed a piece of cold pizza from the coffee table, taking a bite with zero shame.

"I hate you" you said softly.

"No, you don’t"

"No, I don’t" you agreed, even softer.

He leaned back, stretching with a low groan, his head tipping back against the cushion. The tension in his body—always there, even when he laughed—slowly melted out of him. His chest reflecting the light. His jaw relaxed.

You tilted your head, watching him.

He looked… younger like this. Almost soft.

"You okay?" you asked, nudging his knee with yours.

He cracked one eye open. "Took a demon’s blade through the ribs. You tell me"

You frowned instantly. "Dante—"

"Relax" he said, waving you off, but his hand found your thigh, grounding himself. "Didn’t hit anything vital. You’d be crying over my corpse if it did"

"I wouldn’t cry"

He looked over at you, serious for a flicker of a second. "Yeah, you would"

That shut you up. His hand stayed on your thigh.

You leaned into him, shoulder to bare chest. He didn’t move away.

Minutes passed like that. Just the two of you, half-dressed and quiet in your cluttered little apartment. The night hummed around you. Steam still curled in the hallway. The city beyond your window was loud and filthy and alive.

You turned your head slightly. "Hey"

He looked down.

You pressed your lips to his—quick, soft, but enough to remind him.

I’m here. You’re not alone.

When you pulled back, Dante blinked once.

Then he leaned in and kissed you again—slower. Thicker with something unspoken. His hand gripped your thigh tighter.

"You’re damn dangerous" he murmured against your lips.

You smirked. “hilarious coming from you"

#he needs more writer's attention PLEASE #x reader #devil may cry #dmc dante #anime #dmc netflix #dmc #dante #dante sparda #dante devil may cry #dante x reader #dante sparda x reader #dante sparda x you

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nicholasgoodgirl · 10 months ago

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sin? maybe - father charlie

summary: your priest takes you home and it leads to other things

warning: p in v, oral (m receiving), face fucking, after care, virginity loss.

a/n: chat idk how to feel abt this at all and am too scared to read it back. i swear if i spelling his name wrong the whole time. im deleting this acc off the face of the earth

3:23pm

you were waiting in the rain; unbothered than anything. but there was no denying the tempeture change as the rain continued it was beginning to become unbearable. five minutes turning to ten, ten turning to fifteen. your mom still never came

you walked back into the church drenched from all the rain. your white dress sticking to you, it was still cold in the church nonetheless.

"y/n?" you turn around to your name being called "what are you still doing here?" father charlie asked.

"oh my mom never came to get me" she probably drank to much and passed out somewhere, it was embarrassing to admit but thats the only reason you went to church, so you can be far from her and to be nothing like her.

"you're all wet. how long have you been out there?" you shrug at his question. he tilted his head in observation looking you up and down; his eyes lingering longer on your breast.

that would have normally made you uncomfortable if it were anyone else, but it was father charlie and everyone knew him as the 'hot priest' and they weren't wrong either.

he clears his throat "uh I'll give you a ride home" he gave you a quick smile then grabbed his keys off the alter and on the way out grabbing his umbrella.

he put his hand on your lower back guiding you under the umbrella. he gave you the keys so you can unlock the car "why don't you start the car up while you're at it"

"oh i dunno how" you declined the offer politely but he insisted that you did it anyways so he can hold the umbrella for you.

you open the car door and bend over putting the upper half of your body inside the car and trying to start it up like that instead of actually sitting down. the key wouldn't really turn so you put your knee on the seat getting into the car more. while doing this you could gradually feel your dress raise. something in you just knew he was looking up your dress

you give up "i can't get it to start" he lets out a low chuckle and takes the keys from you and gestures for you to get out the car. you hold the umbrella while he gets in the car to start it up. the engine cuts on and he takes the umbrella from you and walks you to the passanger side and shuts the door behind you.

3:34 pm

in the car everything he did and had in his car intrigued you. the way he drives with one hand on the wheel and the other hand rested on his leg. the blankets he had in the backseat, the rosemary cross that was hanging from the rearview mirror

"whats your house adress?" he questioned parking at the stop sign, waiting for your answer.

you shrug again "you don't know where you live?" he probed. you did but it was embarrassing to think about how if your moms boyfriend saw you with a guy he would beat you.

"do you wanna come to my house instead" his question was almost hesitant but i accepted the offer with a smile.

4:01 pm

his house was nothing fancy, the aura of the place was comforting. he started a fire in the fireplace and it set a more warm tone in the room.

"you can use my shower. just walk down the hall, it's to your right. I'll bring you a warm towel and clothes"

you walk down the hall and take a turn to the right and find his bathroom. it was definitely not like the bathroom at your house. it was clean the, the scent of father charlie lingered.

you undress then walk over to the shower putting it on hot. a couple minutes into the warm water hitting your body changing your body temperature from cold to warm there was knocks at the door.

"It's unlocked!" i yelled from the shower. and the door opens "i have no actual clothes that you would probably wear to bed but you can wear one of my shirts" ,,don't even worry about it" you reassure

it didn't matter to you, you actually liked the idea of prancing around in that mans shirt. you couldn't forgive yourself for how bad you wanted him to fuck you in the shower.

"well call me if you need anything" he opens the door to leave out. "wait!- wait.. father charlie"

"you can just call me charlie" he corrects. "could you maybe talk to me about your day or anything i don't wanna be alone right now"

you could hear father charlie chuckle at the question "sure. why not"

he began talking about his day while i cleaned myself off. he went into detail about how he made his breakfast and how precise everything had to be. meanwhile i just couldn't get the thought of him talking me through sex.

"you're doing so well"

"how does that feel"

"you need me to slow down" the thought didn't stop it felt so wrong but you needed him. you were giving him hums to let him know you were still listening.

you turn the water off "can you hand me my towel" your hand reaches out of the curtain and you can feel the towel being placed in your hand "thank you"

"can i-" he was cut off by you walking out the shower with just your towel on. he cleared his throat "I'm gonna go" he reached for the door but you grabbed his arm and stopped him.

"will you stop it" he snaps. both his hands grab your arm "stop! im trying so hard not to sin but for fucks sake you're making it nearly impossible"his words comes flying out faster than you could process

"oh.." you mumbled. "y'know we can do something about your little problem" you look down at the buldge in his pants.

he wasnt wearing his vestmant anymore he was just in a black button up with some black formal pants making it more noticeable.

"fucking hell" he grumbled, rolling his eyes. "such a slut. i thought you would have been good. looked so pure" he spat almost like it wasn an insult. "guess not"

"have you ever touched youreslf?" the question wasnt one you would like to answer cause you always felt shame afterwards but nodded anyways avoiding eyes contact; not proud of your doings.

"of course you do" he breathed out "on your knees" ,,what?" you question unsure if you heard him right

"baby you have been so sweet to me so far and I'd hate it if i have to repeat myself"

you drop to your knees and he unbuckles his belt not breaking eye contact with you once. father charlie pulls his pants down and his underwear.

you grab his dick and put it in your mouth. hallowing your cheeks out "look at you taking me so well" he tangles his hand in your hair, grabbing ahold of it and pushing your head forward causing you to gag; you could feel him touching the back of your throat.

"lord please forgive me" he whispered so low it's a suprise you even heard the words come out his mouth

at this point he was just fucking your face, he was watching as his cock disappeared into your mouth. after a while your eyes began to water.

he pulls you away from him "stand up" ,,did i do something wrong?" you ask, letting your towel drop, standing to your feet. wanting to fix any mistake you made along the way. "no sweetheart, you did just fine i just wanna be inside you instead"

he turns you over but you weren't as thrilled about this as he probably was. you were a virgin and too scared to tell him.

he bends you over the counter and you grab ahold of it for support. he lines himself up with you and pushes in

"so fucking tight" he groaned. "wait-" you hit the counter top with your hand "please just wait" you whine

he stops what he's doing and waits for your signal to go "you can move.." my words come out sounding almost strangled.

he pushed in and out of you and for a second you can hear his breath hitch "are you on your period?"

"what!? no" you look behind you and see his lips slowly curl into a smirk "you're a virgin aren't you?" ,,mhm" you nod "even better" he gloated

you could feel his dick hit a spot that made your toes curl. the burning sensation goes away with each rut. you let a few whimpers slip and a grunt with every thrust; your body jolting forward.

he gripped your hips tightly to allow himself to pound into you. you could have sworn you felt his tip hit your cervix.

the sounds of skin slapping against eachother flooded the bathroom "you're such a slut. letting your priest fuck you over a bathroom counter"

he pulled your hair back putting you into a deeper arch, to hit your sweet spot. a guttural moan leaves your lips "oh fuck" you moan.

father charlies hand goes down to your clit rubbing firm circles, sharp uneven breaths pulled through you as you could feel your orgasm approching.

with no warning his warm seed coats your insides, as he rides out his high. his fingers continues to rub in circular motion which makes you finish next; unfolding right there.

you hold his hand to stop him. "im done i can't take anymore" you whisper.

"im sure" he pulls out letting a hiss escape, then walks over to the shower and letting the water run again. the both of you get in and shower together.

he got done before you and while you were still getting clean he made you a snack.

5:59 pm

you two were laid in bed. your head resting on father charlies chest while he traces light shapes on your skin.

"what do i tell my mom" you ask. "whatever you want sweet girl" he kissed your head. what were you gonna tell your mom, you were with another man in his shirt. and overall he's the priest of the church you go to.

#nicholas chavez x reader #nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez smut #father charlie #father charlie × reader #father charlie smut #father charlie mayhew

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ghstyles · 3 months ago

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Apartment 2C | His Angel

· · ─────────────────────── · ·

Pairing: College!Yn x CrimeBossl!Harry

His Angel Masterlist

WC: 6K

Note: For this series, you don’t have to read all the parts. It’s up to you. They don’t pick off where the other ended. Just glimpses into their lives. I won’t post them in chronological order but I will list them in that order

· · ─────────────────────── · ·

Five months ago, if someone had suggested to Harry that he’d be standing in a tiny kitchen, stirring a pot of pasta, cooking for someone, that person would have been shot.

Yet here he was.

The wooden spoon felt foreign in his hand, awkward and useless compared to the weight of a gun. The scent of simmering marinara filled the air. Something warm, something domestic. It didn’t belong in his world. And yet, somehow, you did.

You padded into the kitchen, barefoot, wearing one of his shirts that hung off your frame.

“You’re stirring too aggressively,” you tease, sliding your arm around his waist.

Harry glanced down at you, the usual sharpness in his gaze dulling just a fraction. “I don’t do anything gently, sweetheart.”

You laughed, tilting your head up at him. “You do with me.”

His jaw tensed, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he lets you take the spoon from his grasp, your fingers brushing against his, soft and unscarred. He’d crushed men’s throats with these hands. Now, he let you guide them over something as simple as dinner.

He should have felt ridiculous. Weak. But when you smiled up at him, like he wasn’t the monster everyone else saw, he decided maybe, a very minuscule maybe, he could get used to this.

For a little while

"See? When you do it gently like this, it doesn't slosh all around everywhere. Less cleaning later. But I guess you don't clean up your own messes" you say, looking back at him. Looking away causes you to hiss as your arm accidentally touches the rim of the hot pot

Harry's attention snaps to you instantly at the sound of your hiss of pain. His eyes narrow, all traces of softness vanishing as he moves with speed, gently but firmly grasping your wrist to examine your arm.

"Fuck's sake, angel," he mutters, already pulling you toward the sink. He turns on the cold water and places your arm beneath the stream. "Let me see it."

The burn is minor, just a red mark across your forearm that will fade in an hour, but Harry's jaw is tight, his eyes cold as if the pan had personally offended him.

"It's nothing, Harry. Just a little burn." You try to pull your arm back, rolling your eyes at his overreaction. "I'm not made of glass, you know."

Harry doesn't release your wrist, keeping your skin under the cool water. His thumb traces circles against your pulse point, a gesture that might seem tender if not for the dangerous look in his eyes.

"Didn't say you were," he responds flatly. "But if I find out this piece of shit stove burned you because it's faulty, I'm replacing the entire kitchen."

"It's my fault for being clumsy, not the stove's." You can't help but laugh at his intensity. "Are you going to put a hit out on my kitchenware now?"

Harry's expression doesn't change, but something like amusement flickers in his eyes.

"Don't tempt me, princess." He finally releases your wrist, reaching for a clean kitchen towel to gently pat your skin dry. "Maybe I should just cook for you from now on."

"You? Cook?" You raise an eyebrow, teasing. "You have three chefs. When was the last time you even picked up a knife?”

A dark smirk crosses Harry's face as he takes the towel from your hand, his fingers lingering against yours for just a moment too long.

"Picked up a knife?" he repeats, his voice dropping lower. "This morning, actually."

He turns back to the stove, adjusting the heat with casual precision.

"Different purpose, though," he adds offhandedly, as if commenting on the weather rather than alluding to violence.

"That's not what I meant and you know it." You roll your eyes, nudging him with your hip as you reach for the salt. "I meant for cooking, not for...whatever it is you do with your mornings."

Harry watches you with that same calculating gaze, the one that makes hardened criminals confess their sins. On you, it just looks like he's trying to memorize every detail of your face.

"The less you know about my mornings, angel, the better you'll sleep at night." He takes the salt from your hand, adding a pinch to the sauce. "And I can cook. Survived on my own since I was fourteen, remember?"

His tone is matter-of-fact, no self-pity, just stating a harsh reality that shaped him.

"Well then, Gordon Ramsay, impress me." You fold your arms, challenging him with a playful smile.

Harry raises an eyebrow, amused by your defiance when most people would be cowering.

"Careful what you ask for, princess." He stirs the sauce once more. "I might just exceed your expectations... in more ways than one."

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, rolling your eyes playfully, reverting your attention back to the sauce

"Your place is too small," he comments abruptly, glancing around the modest apartment with critical eyes. "Security's shit too. Those locks wouldn't keep out a determined child."

He says this casually, as if discussing the weather rather than evaluating potential threats to your safety as he settles bak behind you.

You turn slightly to face Harry, still stirring the pasta sauce with careful motions.

"It's also cheap," you counter, meeting his critical gaze with a raised eyebrow. "Very much on my budget."

Harry scoffs, his fingers drumming against your hip bone as he surveys the apartment again. The cramped kitchen barely fits both of you, the living room furniture is clearly secondhand, and the walls are thin enough that you can hear the neighbors arguing sometimes. But it's yours, earned with your own money from your part-time job while balancing classes.

"Budgets can change," he says pointedly, reaching past you to turn down the heat on the stove. "Circumstances can change."

You shake your head, a conversation you've had multiple times before.

"We agreed, Harry. I pay my own way."

His jaw tightens, that familiar tension whenever his control is challenged. He steps back slightly, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. Even in casual clothes, dark jeans and a black button-up with the sleeves rolled to expose tattooed forearms, he looks dangerous, out of place among your colorful kitchen towels and mismatched dishes.

"Stubbornness isn't a virtue, Y/N," he says, watching you with those calculating eyes. "It's a liability."

You taste the sauce with a small spoon, deliberately ignoring his comment.

"Maybe to you. To me, it's independence," you reply, reaching for the pasta strainer. "Can you grab the colander?"

Harry sighs but complies, retrieving it from where it hangs under the sink. His movements are fluid, economical. A man who never wastes energy.

"Independence," he repeats the word like it's a concept he finds amusing. "Everyone depends on someone, angel. The sooner you accept that, the safer you'll be."

Steam rises between you as you pour the pasta into the colander, the hot water rushing through the holes and disappearing down the drain. Harry watches your movements intently, as if even this mundane task deserves his full analysis.

"I grew up depending on my parents for everything," you explain, carefully shaking the excess water from the pasta. "Got to college...felt like I'd been thrown in the ocean and left to fend for myself. I want to learn, Harry."

Something flickers across his face, a shadow you've come to recognize. It appears whenever you reference your family, your normal upbringing, all the things he never had. His fingers tap against the counter, a brief rhythm before he stills them.

"Learning to swim and drowning yourself are different things," he replies, his voice softer than usual, almost contemplative. "You think I didn't learn? Fourteen years old, kicked out on the street. No college dorms. No meal plans."

He reaches past you to take the colander, his movements controlled as he transfers the pasta back to the pot. His proximity is deliberate, a reminder of his physical presence.

"I learned every fucking day," he continues, the curse word slipping out casually. "Difference is, I learned that independence is an illusion people sell themselves to feel better about their vulnerabilities."

Harry turns to face you fully now, leaning his hip against the counter. His eyes, always intense, search yours.

"But if you need to prove something to yourself, fine. Just don't confuse stubbornness with strength, angel. Not in my world."

He reaches out, tucking a strand of your golden-brown hair behind your ear, his touch gentler than his words.

"Now, are we going to eat this pasta, or just philosophize over it until it gets cold?"

"You're the one who started," you tease, rolling your eyes playfully.

"Always quick with that mouth," he murmurs, but there's no heat behind it. Just that private amusement that makes you feel like you've accomplished something significant, making Harry Styles almost lighthearted.

You turn your head, kissing his palm. "Get the garlic bread from the oven. I'll plate the pasta."

A low chuckle escapes him, the sound rough like he doesn't use it often enough. He lets his hand trail down your cheek before dropping it.

Harry moves with natural authority, grabbing an oven mitt, looking ridiculously out of place in his hand, and retrieving the golden-brown garlic bread. The scent fills the small kitchen, making it feel more like home than it usually does.

"Smells decent," he comments, which from him is high praise.

“Of course it does. I did half the work”

Harry's lips curve into that dangerous half-smile that makes his enemies nervous and sends heat through your body.

"Half the work?" he repeats, setting his bread down with controlled precision. "Sweetheart, you stirred the sauce twice and then burned yourself. I wouldn't call that half."

He steps closer, towering over you with that natural intimidation that follows him everywhere. When he reaches out, it's to brush a strand of hair from your face, the gesture surprisingly gentle from hands that have done such violent things.

"But if it makes you feel better to think you contributed..." he continues, voice dropping lower, "I'll let you have it."

"Let me have it?" You scoff,. "How gracious of you. Next you'll be telling me you let me win at Scrabble last week."

Harry's eyes darken slightly at your challenge, but there's amusement there too, the kind he reserves solely for you.

"I never let anyone win anything," he states flatly. "You beat me fair and square. Though your choice of words was...educational."

He gestures toward the table, a subtle command in the movement.

"Sit. Eat. Before I decide to show you exactly what I meant by 'letting you have it.'"

The double meaning hangs in the air between you, charged with promise.

You almost choke on your own spit, ignoring his comment as you sit, “I don’t know what you’re taking about. I used perfectly reasonable words”

Harry watches you with predatory amusement as you try to recover, settling into the chair across from you. The small table means your knees brush against his under the surface.

"Perfectly reasonable," he repeats, twirling pasta around his fork with deliberate movements. "Is that what we're calling 'fellatio' now? Especially when you played it on a triple word score."

His expression remains neutral, but his eyes are dancing with that dark humor that makes your stomach flip.

"It's a medical term," you defend yourself primly, taking a bite of pasta to hide your smile. "Not my fault you have a dirty mind."

Harry makes a low sound in his throat, something between a laugh and a growl.

"Angel, my mind isn't just dirty. It's fucking filthy." He takes a sip of wine, eyes never leaving yours. "Especially where you're concerned."

You ignore him, simply because you were too flustered to respond.

As you both ate from two mismatched plates, you catch him surveying your apartment again, his eyes lingering on the windows, the door, the fire escape visible through the kitchen window. Always assessing, always planning for threats.

"Stop casing my apartment like you're planning to rob it," you say without looking up, knowing exactly what he's doing.

Harry sets the fork down, his lips quirking up at one corner.

"If I was planning to rob it, angel, you wouldn't see me casing it," he replies, picking up the kife and cutting the bread with precise movements. "And there's nothing here worth taking."

Your jaw drops. Harry watches your theatrical reaction with that amusement dancing in his eyes. He sets the knife down deliberately, turning to face you fully as you cross your arms over your chest.

He pauses, his eyes finding yours across the small space. "Except you."

The casual possessiveness in his tone should probably concern you more than it does.

"Oh no you don't! Don't try to fix it by saying that," you exclaim, fighting the smile threatening to break through your mock offense.

"Fix it?" Harry repeats, his voice dropping lower. "When have you ever known me to backtrack on anything I've said, sweetheart?"

"So you don't think I own anything of value?".

"Your textbooks might fetch fifty cents at a second-hand store," he says thoughtfully, then gestures toward your living room. "That TV's at least two generations old. Your laptop's password is your birthday. Backwards. Hardly secure."

His hand reaches out, fingers lightly gripping your chin. The touch is gentle but firm, a contradiction like everything else about him.

"But value? That's subjective, isn't it?" His voice drops lower. "To me, the only thing of value in this entire building is standing right in front of me, getting worked up over pasta and garlic bread."

His thumb brushes over your lower lip, his expression shifting to something more serious.

"I could buy you anything, Y/N. Everything. But the one thing I want is the thing you insist on giving freely. That's the fucking irony."

The room feels smaller suddenly, the air between you charged with something electric. Your mock indignation melts away under his touch, your voice dropping to a whisper that betrays your affected composure.

"Which is?" you ask, the words barely audible.

Harry's eyes darken as they track the movement of your lips. His thumb still rests against your bottom lip, applying the slightest pressure. The pasta forgotten on the table in front of you.

"Your trust," he answers, his voice rough around the edges. "Your fucking choice to be here. With me."

His free hand grips your chair, pulling you towards him as if you weighed nothing

"I've bought loyalty. I've bought silence. I've bought respect," he continues, his free hand moving to your waist, fingers splaying possessively against the fabric of his shirt that you're wearing. "But I can't buy the way you look at me when you think I don't notice."

His grip on your chin tightens slightly, tilting your face up further.

"Can't buy the way you kiss me like I'm not the monster everyone else sees," he murmurs, his breath warm against your lips. "Can't buy the way you argue with me when men twice your size wouldn't dare."

His eyes flick down to your mouth, then back to your eyes. The intensity in his gaze makes your heart race, the danger and desire inseparable with Harry.

"That's the irony, angel. The one fucking thing I can't obtain through force or money is the only thing I actually want."

He leans in closer, his lips nearly brushing yours.

"Now tell me again how you don't own anything of value."

The tension between you stretches taut for a moment, his confession hanging in the air, raw and unexpected from a man who guards his thoughts like state secrets. Your heart pounds against your ribs, his words sending heat spiraling through your body.

And then, in classic Y/N fashion, you break it with humor.

"I... I have a limited edition eyeshadow palette that was hard to get," you whisper, your eyes wide with mock seriousness. "Better go lock it up."

For a split second, Harry's expression freezes in disbelief. Then something rare happens, he laughs. Not the calculated chuckle he uses in business meetings or the cold sound that makes his enemies nervous, but a genuine laugh that transforms his face entirely.

His forehead drops to yours, his body still caging you against the chair but now slightly shaking with amusement.

"Fucking hell, angel," he mutters, his fingers moving from your chin to curl around the nape of your neck. "You're impossible."

His other hand tightens at your waist, pulling you onto his lap. The heat of his body seeps through the thin fabric of the shirt you're wearing.

"Here I am, practically confessing, " he cuts himself off, shaking his head slightly. "And you're worried about fucking makeup."

Before you can respond with another quip, his mouth captures yours in a kiss that's equal parts punishment and reward. His lips move against yours with practiced precision, knowing exactly how to make your knees weak, how to steal the breath from your lungs.

When he pulls back, just enough to look into your eyes, his expression has shifted back to that dangerous intensity.

"Keep making jokes, sweetheart," he murmurs against your lips. "We both know it's how you handle things that scare you."

His hand slides from your waist to the small of your back, pressing you impossibly closer.

"And we both know I fucking terrify you sometimes," he adds, his voice dropping to that velvet-rough tone that makes your insides liquify. "Don't we?"

"You dont scare me. You’re like...a big kitten"

Harry's eyes narrow dangerously at your words, but there's a glint of something like appreciation beneath the surface, that constant push-pull between you that he secretly craves.

"A kitten," he repeats slowly, testing the word like it's foreign on his tongue.

His hand slides from the nape of your neck to wrap gently around your throat, not squeezing, just resting there as a reminder of his strength, his control. His thumb traces your pulse point, feeling the rapid beat that betrays your casual words.

"Interesting theory," he murmurs, leaning in until his lips brush the shell of your ear. "Should we test it?"

In one fluid movement, he lifts you onto the table, pasta and dinner forgotten. His hands grip your thighs, spreading them so he can step between them, bringing your bodies flush against each other. The wood is cold against your bare legs, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from him.

"Kittens purr," he says, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that makes your stomach flip. "They play with their food."

His lips trail down your neck, teeth grazing lightly over your skin.

"They have claws," he continues, his hands sliding up your thighs, pushing the hem of his shirt higher on your legs. "And they take what they want."

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with desire but still calculating, still watching your reactions with that intense focus.

"Still think I'm a kitten, Y/N?" he challenges, his thumbs tracing circles on your inner thighs. "Or should I show you exactly what kind of animal I really am?"

The pasta continues cooling on the plates beside you, dinner clearly taking a backseat to the heat building between you.

The shrill sound of the doorbell cuts through the charged atmosphere like a knife, jarring and unexpected. Harry's body tenses immediately, his hands stilling on your thighs as his posture shifts from predatory to alert in an instant.

"Expecting someone?" he asks, his voice suddenly cold, all traces of playfulness vanished.

Before you can even answer, he's already moving, one hand reaching beneath his jacket that hangs on your kitchen chair, extracting a matte black handgun you hadn't even realized was there.

"Harry, " you start, sliding off the table quickly.

He holds up a hand, silencing you with a single gesture. His entire demeanor has transformed. This isn't your Harry anymore, with his teasing smirks and possessive touches. This is the Harry that makes men disappear, that runs half the city's underground.

"Behind me," he instructs, voice leaving no room for argument.

The doorbell rings again, more insistent this time. Harry moves silently toward your apartment door, positioning himself at an angle where he won't be immediately visible when it opens. The gun hangs at his side, finger resting beside the trigger rather than on it, a small mercy that indicates he hasn't completely lost his composure.

He glances back at you, jaw tight. "Who would be coming here unannounced?"

Your heart pounds in your chest, the mood completely shattered. The food sits forgotten on the table as Harry waits for your answer, his entire body coiled like a spring ready to release.

"I'm not opening that door until I know who's on the other side," he says, voice low and dangerous. "So I suggest you start talking, angel."

The doorbell rings a third time, followed by an impatient knock.

"Harry, don't be ridiculous. This building is mostly for students. Just let me answer the door. it could be anyone"

His expression darkens at your dismissal of his concern, his jaw tightening visibly. The gun doesn't lower.

"Ridiculous?" he repeats, the word sharp with tension. "There's nothing ridiculous about security, Y/N."

The knocking continues, more insistent now. You move toward the door, but Harry's arm shoots out, blocking your path. His eyes, cold and calculating now, lock with yours.

"Just because you live in a building full of students doesn't mean everyone who comes knocking is harmless," he says, voice low and controlled. "You think my enemies don't know about you? You think they wouldn't use a fucking college kid as bait?"

You can see the genuine concern beneath his harsh exterior. The fear that isn't for himself but for you. It's one of those rare glimpses of vulnerability that he would never admit to.

"Fine," he concedes after a moment, tucking the gun into the waistband of his jeans at the small of his back, concealed but accessible. "Answer it. But I'm standing right here."

He positions himself just to the side of the door, where he won't be immediately visible but can intervene in seconds. His entire body remains tense, ready to spring into action.

"Go on then," he says with a nod toward the door, his voice softening just slightly. "But if it's someone you don't know, you close that door immediately. Understood?"

The knocking comes again, followed by a muffled voice that sounds young, possibly female. Harry watches you intently, waiting for your recognition or confusion, already calculating his next move before you've even reached for the doorknob.

As you open the door, Harry remains coiled and ready just out of sight. When you greet the visitor by name, some of the lethal tension leaves his body, though his hand still hovers near his lower back where the gun is concealed.

Standing in your doorway is Jess, petite with short blue hair, wearing pajama pants and a university sweatshirt. Her expression is apologetic.

"Hey, sorry to bother you," she says, fidgeting slightly with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. "But I think your shower is leaking into my bathroom ceiling? There's like, a growing water stain and some dripping."

Her eyes flick past you, catching a glimpse of Harry's imposing figure lurking in your apartment. Her eyes widen slightly, clearly not expecting you to have company.

"Oh! I didn't realize you had someone over," she says, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "I can come back later if, "

Harry steps partially into view, his expression neutral but intimidating. He's tucked the gun away completely now, but his presence alone is enough to make Jess take a small step back.

"Plumbing issue?" he asks, his voice deceptively casual as he places a possessive hand on the small of your back. "I can take a look at it."

The offer is surprising, Harry Styles, mob boss, offering to check your leaky shower. But you recognize it for what it is: his way of controlling the situation, of ensuring no strangers need to enter your apartment.

Jess blinks rapidly, clearly intimidated by Harry's sudden appearance and intense gaze. "Um, yeah, it's just, there's water coming through my ceiling. From her bathroom, I think."

Harry nods once, decisive. "We'll handle it."

The 'we' doesn't escape your notice, nor does the way his fingers press slightly more firmly against your back, a silent reminder of his presence.

As soon as the door closes, you turn to face Harry, unable to resist pointing out his overreaction. His hand remains on your lower back, warm and possessive.

"See? Jessica from 1C didn't come to strangle me," you say with a teasing lilt to your voice.

Harry doesn't share your amusement. His eyes remain serious, that calculating look still present as he glances back at the door.

"This time," he replies flatly, finally removing his hand from your back to run it through his dark hair. "Blue hair, five-foot-nothing, no visible weapons. Could still be working for someone."

You start to laugh, thinking he's joking, but his expression remains deadly serious.

"You're not kidding," you realize aloud, your smile fading.

"No, I'm not," he confirms, moving past you toward your bathroom. "This building has shit security. Anyone could walk in. No doorman, no cameras in the hallways, locks a child could pick."

He pauses at the bathroom door, turning back to look at you with an intensity that makes your breath catch.

"You think I'm paranoid? Paranoid keeps people alive in my world, angel."

Without waiting for a response, he enters your small bathroom, kneeling to examine the plumbing under your sink. The sight is almost comical, Harry Styles, feared mob boss, inspecting your pipes in his expensive clothes.

"Your neighbor seems scared of her own shadow," He comments as he works, his voice echoing slightly in the tiled room. "Good. Scared people don't ask questions."

He glances up at you, standing in the doorway. "That pasta's getting cold. Might as well eat while I check this. Shower's probably just needs a new seal."

The casual domesticity of his words contrasts sharply with the gun still tucked into his waistband, visible now as his shirt rides up while he works.

You settle on the counter, plate balanced in your lap, watching as Harry returns from the bathroom. There's something fascinating about seeing him in this light, handling mundane problems with the same efficiency he probably applies to his more illicit activities.

You would have made an inappropriate joke about the sexy plumber seducing you but decided against it

"So... where did you learn to fix plumbing issues?" you ask, twirling pasta around your fork.

Harry grabs his own plate, but remains standing, leaning against the opposite counter. Something about him never quite relaxes enough to sit properly when he doesn't have to.

"When you live in the places I've lived," he says, taking a bite of pasta, "you either learn to fix things yourself or you live with them broken."

He chews thoughtfully, then adds: "Foster home number three. Pipes burst in winter. Foster father was too drunk to call someone, too broke to pay them if he did. I was eleven."

He delivers this information casually, as if discussing the weather rather than another fragment of his broken childhood. These rare glimpses into his past always come unexpectedly, dropped into conversation like they don't matter, when you both know they shaped everything he became.

"Your shower's fine," he continues, changing the subject abruptly. "It's the seal around the drain that's worn out. Easy fix. I'll have someone come tomorrow."

Before you can protest about handling it yourself, he adds: "Someone I trust. Who won't report back about the layout of your apartment or the fact that you sleep with your window unlocked."

His eyes meet yours over his plate, challenging you to argue.

"This pasta's decent," he says, the closest thing to a compliment your cooking is likely to receive. "Though the garlic bread's burnt on the bottom."

"Hey! You were on oven duty," you protest, pointing your fork accusingly at him. "I don't accept this defamation."

A hint of amusement crosses Harry's face, softening his features momentarily. He takes another bite of the pasta, eyebrow raised.

"I was distracted," he replies, his voice dropping lower. "Someone was walking around in my shirt, looking like that."

His eyes travel deliberately down your body, lingering on your bare legs dangling from the counter. The intensity in his gaze makes heat rise to your cheeks despite yourself.

"Besides," he continues, setting his plate down and moving toward you, "I don't recall hearing any complaints about my performance in other areas."

He positions himself between your legs, hands resting on either side of your thighs on the counter. The casual intimacy of the position, him standing between your parted knees, your plate still balanced in your lap, feels both domestic and charged.

"Eat your dinner, angel," he instructs, voice gentler than before. "Then I'll take a proper look at that shower."

You take another bite, watching him over your fork.

"You know, normal boyfriends don't carry guns to dinner," you comment, unable to help yourself.

Harry's expression darkens slightly, though not with anger.

"Normal boyfriends don't have enemies who would put a bullet in their head for territory," he counters, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "Or who would hurt what's theirs to send a message."

His thumb traces your cheekbone, the gesture at odds with his harsh words.

"If normal is what you want, " he starts, then stops himself, jaw tightening. "You knew what I was when you got into this, Y/N."

The rare use of your full name instead of a pet name underscores the seriousness of his statement.

"Kidding, kidding. God, no one can make a joke around here," you say with an exaggerated eye roll. "Eat," you command firmly.

Your teasing tone breaks through his serious demeanor, and Harry blinks in surprise as you shove a forkful of pasta into his mouth.

Harry's eyes widen slightly at your boldness, but then something unexpected happens, he actually complies, chewing the pasta you've fed him. A reluctant smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he swallows.

"Demanding tonight, aren't we?" he says, but the tension has left his shoulders. He reaches for his own plate again, leaning against the counter beside you rather than caging you in.

There's a comfortable silence as you both eat, the earlier heaviness dissipating into something more relaxed. Harry glances at your mismatched plates, the cheap cutlery, the faded dish towel hanging from the oven door.

"You know," he says after a moment, his tone lighter, "when I was your age, I was eating cold pizza over a sink most nights. If I ate at all."

It's offered casually, not as a bid for sympathy but almost like an admission, that despite his criticisms of your apartment, he understands something about making do with what you have.

He takes another bite, then adds: "This is better."

The simple statement carries weight coming from him, Harry Styles doesn't give compliments easily, and rarely acknowledges when something is good in his life.

"Your neighbor's going to be telling everyone about the scary man in apartment 2C now," he comments, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Might help with your building security, actually. No one will dare knock on your door."

He reaches over to steal a piece of garlic bread from your plate, the gesture surprisingly normal, almost playful.

You watch as Harry takes a bite of the stolen garlic bread, a small smile playing on your lips. There's something endearing about seeing him do something so ordinary as food theft, a glimpse of what might have been in another life.

"Hey, look at you now. At 27, you have three private chefs under your hand," you point out. "I'd say you've done well for yourself."

Harry chews thoughtfully, considering your words. There's a flicker of something in his eyes, perhaps pride, perhaps something more complicated.

"Three chefs, two mansions, and enough enemies to fill a stadium," he replies with a wry twist to his mouth. "The American dream."

He sets his empty plate in the sink, turning to lean against the counter facing you. In the soft kitchen light, some of his sharp edges seem softer. Not gone, never gone, but less pronounced.

"Done well for myself," he repeats your words, testing them. "Depends on who you ask. My probation officer would disagree."

This is delivered with a hint of dark humor, you both know he hasn't had a probation officer in years. He's well beyond the reach of conventional law enforcement now.

"But yeah," he continues, surprising you with his candor, "from where I started? Could've gone much worse."

He reaches for your empty plate, taking it from your hands and placing it in the sink with his. The domestic gesture is at odds with the man you know he is outside these walls, but that contradiction is part of what drew you to him in the first place.

"You know what's strange?" he asks, turning back to you. "Having dinner in a normal apartment, with normal problems like leaky showers and burnt garlic bread. Sometimes I forget what that's like."

He doesn't say the rest, that you're his connection to a world he left behind long ago, a glimpse into an ordinary life he sacrificed for power and survival.

"Well, no matter how you got to where you are, I'm proud of you Harry. Truly," you say softly, meaning every word.

Your words hit him like a physical force, he actually stills, his hand freezing halfway through running it through his hair. Something vulnerable flashes across his face before he can mask it.

Harry looks at you for a long moment, his expression uncharacteristically open. When he speaks, his voice is rougher than usual.

"Proud," he repeats, as if testing how the word feels. "That's... that's not something I hear often."

“Well, now you’re hearing it from me”

He moves closer to you again, but this time it's different, less predatory, more seeking. His hands find your waist, thumbs brushing against the fabric of his shirt that you're wearing.

"You're proud of a criminal," he says, but there's no bite to it, just a statement of fact. "A man who's done things that would make you run if you knew all of them."

His forehead drops to rest against yours, an unexpectedly tender gesture.

"You're something else, angel," he murmurs. "Looking at the devil and seeing something worth saving."

One hand leaves your waist to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing your cheekbone with surprising gentleness.

"I don't deserve it," he admits quietly. "But I'm selfish enough to take it anyway."

The confession hangs in the air between you, more honest than his usual carefully constructed responses. For a moment, he's not the feared mob boss or the dangerous criminal, he's just a man who never heard the words 'I'm proud of you' growing up.

"Contrary to whatever belief you have, it's normal for girlfriends to be proud of their boyfriends," you state matter-of-factly, reaching up to touch his face. "Okay? Doesn't matter for what."

Your words make him pull back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. The vulnerability is still there, raw and unfamiliar on his features.

Harry lets out a short laugh, but it's not entirely humorous.

"Normal girlfriends are proud of their boyfriends for getting promotions or running marathons," he says, his hand still cradling your face. "Not for successfully running three territories without starting a war. Not for, "

He cuts himself off, shaking his head slightly.

"Christ, Y/N," he breathes out. "The things you make me feel... they're dangerous. Make me weak."

Your eyes meet his, challenging.

"Is that what you think this is?" you ask softly. "Weakness?"

His thumb traces your bottom lip, his eyes following the movement.

"No," he admits finally. "It's the only thing that makes me feel fucking human anymore."

He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours again.

"But don't say you're proud of me," he murmurs. "Not when I'm the reason you have to check your car for bombs. Not when I'm why you can't tell your parents who you're dating. Not when, "

Your kiss silences his self-deprecating spiral, soft but insistent. Harry responds immediately, one hand sliding to the nape of your neck while the other grips your hip.

"Shut up," you murmur against his lips.

A low sound rumbles in his chest, somewhere between a laugh and a groan. When he pulls back slightly, his eyes are darker, but there's a hint of amusement in them.

"Telling me to shut up now?" he asks, his voice rough but lighter than before. "That's brave of you, angel."

His fingers thread through your hair, gentle despite his words.

"You're the only person who can get away with that, you know," he adds softly, something like wonder in his tone. "The only one who can tell me to shut up and live to tell about it."

You roll your eyes at his dramatics.

"Lucky me," you tease, fingers playing with the collar of his shirt.

Harry's expression softens just slightly, that rare genuine smile tugging at his lips.

"No," he corrects, pulling you closer. "Lucky me."

His lips find yours again, this time with more intent, effectively ending any further discussion about worth or pride or danger. The pasta grows cold in the sink, forgotten as he loses himself in the one person who sees past his carefully constructed walls.

As you both finish loading the last dishes into your tiny dishwasher, there's a comfortable silence between you. Harry checks his phone, his expression shifting back to something more business-like.

"I need to go," he says, tucking the phone away. "Got a meeting I can't miss."

You try not to think about what kind of meeting requires his attention at this hour.

"Someone will be here tomorrow morning to fix that shower," he continues, shrugging on his jacket and checking that his gun is secure. "Don't let anyone in unless they give you the password."

"Let me guess," you say dryly, leaning against the counter. "The password is 'Harry Styles is the most humble man alive'?"

Harry's lips twitch as he adjusts his cuffs.

"Close. It's 'burnt garlic bread,'" he replies, stepping closer to you. "And they'll show proper ID. My people know the drill."

His hand cups your face, thumb brushing your cheek in what's become a familiar gesture.

"Lock the door behind me," he instructs, his tone serious despite your earlier teasing. "All of them. And for fuck's sake, close that window in your bedroom."

"Yes, sir," you mock salute, earning a warning look that holds more affection than heat.

He kisses you one last time, deep and thorough, like he's memorizing the taste of you.

"I'll call you tomorrow," he says against your lips before pulling away. "Stay safe, angel."

You follow him to the door, watching as he checks the hallway before stepping out.

"Harry?" you call softly before he can leave.

He turns, eyebrow raised.

"I'm still proud of you," you say with a small smile.

Something flashes across his face, too quick to catch, before he shakes his head slightly, that rare genuine smile making another appearance.

"Impossible woman," he mutters, but there's warmth in his voice. "Lock the door, Y/N."

You do as he asks, hearing his footsteps fade down the hallway, knowing that somewhere in the building, his security team is watching, making sure he leaves safely. It's just another normal night with your not-so-normal boyfriend.

· · ─────────────────────── · ·

A/N: What do we think of these two so far? Thought I’d start with something simple.

Taglist: @silastylesswift @babegoals @harryssunflower17 @puzio19

#ghstyles #harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry styles series #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot

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acosmicbee · 4 months ago

Text

Rehabilitation

Your father wasn't a villain. At least, he wasn't one in your eyes. He'd always been your hero, making sure you had enough and keeping you safe. Those hypocritical heroes had no right to have stolen him from you.

Ever since a hero team had been elected into power, everything had changed. Even the slightest bit of vigilante-ism was declared as villainous activity and hero teams were allowed to use lethal force if they felt it necessary.

You refused to give in to the brain washing, especially now that you had no one. The only reason you attended school was because your government mandated family made you. The only reason you were with a governmentally mandated family was because the police somehow found out you were living by yourself.

That didn't stop you from trying to continue on your dad's legacy. You refused to let his name and all he'd done for you die with him. The first step, in your mind, was to get revenge on the hero team you felt was most responsible for his death.

˗ˏˋ 🌩️⚡️🌩️ ˎˊ˗

Of course nothing could ever go your way. It felt like the universe had a personal vendetta against you. Fixing up some of your dad's old gear, just some simple stun guns which were kind of outdated, had taken more time than you were expecting. On top of that, you'd spent the last few months in daily detentions for refusing to praise your 'heroic' overlords.

Because of this, the warm weather you'd based your plan around had left and winter had taken it's place with the weather to match. Not to mention that one of the heroes you were getting revenge on had some sort of ice power that only grew stronger in the winter.

All in all, you probably should've waited a little longer. Should've bided your time and held out at least until Spring. But the hatred you felt overwhelmed you. It was what led you to bundling up, hiding your makeshift weapons in your coat pockets as you snuck out through a window.

Your tried to look as casual as possible as you boarded a train for the area you knew that hero team liked to work. You tried to stay under the radar.

It worked until it didn't.

While in warm weather you could search for an extended period of time as long as you had a big water bottle, it was so cold you were worried your fingers would fall off. On top of that, the incoming blizzard was said to be harsh and bring even colder weather on top of the ridiculous amount of snow.

Even your burning hatred wasn't hot enough to bring the feeling back to your fingers so you finally decided to take shelter in a nearby cafe. At least until you could feel your fingers and toes again.

By the time you finished a warm drink and snack the state of weather had only deteriorated. On top of that, you were feeling extra miserable due to your lack of success, so you decided to head back to the train.

You were minding your own business as you walked, glaring at the ground. You only looked up when a pair of fancy looking snow boots were blocking your path. Looking up your mood worsened, seeing the exact same ice hero you'd been worried about running into, Ice Blade. Except now, instead of fighting, all you wanted to do was go home.

"Hey kid, where are your parents?" He asked cheerily. You glared at him, stepping around him and continuing on your way. Almost instinctively your hand found your dad's old stun gun in your pocket. You made it midway down the block before he caught up to you, blocking your path once again.

"That's a little rude don't you think?" He said, with a fake pout. You went to side step him but he moved in front of you. "You look familiar though. Have I saved you before?"

"You have never saved me. Leave me alone." You grit out, continuing on down the block. Apparently heroes didn't know how to take hints because he followed after you.

"Wow, you sound really angry. Why don't I walk you wherever you're going! A kid your age shouldn't be out alone in this weather."

You carefully removed one of the stun guns from your pocket, holding it at your side. If he got too close you'd shock him, consequences be damned. Not just for your father anymore, but also because he was annoying you to an astronomical degree.

You were about to strike when someone's hand gripped your wrist, forcing you to drop your weapon. Whipping around with a pissed off growl you were even more pissed to find the other four members of his team standing there.

"We leave you alone for five minutes and you almost get attacked by a child?" The leader, a hero who went by Gaea, asked in disbelief. You glared at her, trying to wrench your arm out of her grip.

"But look at them! Aren't they just the most adorable thing ever? I know it's bad, but I had to let them feel accomplished! I could've taken a small shock." Ice Blade whined.

"You're going to hurt them, Gaea." Another one of the teammates said. He was the group's healer and you weren't sure what exactly his code name was.

"Gaea, that's a kid. Obviously Blade was making them uncomfortable." The last male in the group said. He was a fire hero who went by Inferno.

"Thats good and everything but where would a kid acquire something like that?" Gaea asked, using her free hand to point towards your discarded stun gun. The last member of the group, a hero who went by Tide, picked it up.

"These look like the ones that vigilante used to use. What was his name? Strike or something?" She asked. Not only had these heroes killed him but they couldn't even be bothered to remember who he was?

"His name was Shock!" You hissed, finally pulling free of Gaea's grip. From the sidelines Ice Blade snapped his fingers grinning.

"Thats where I recognize you from! You were part of his civilian life, Y/N, right?"

"Don't you dare talk about my father!" You yelled.

"Father?! Why didn't you mention this to anyone, Blade?!" Gaea demanded, turning to face Ice Blade for a second.

You took advantage of the moment, using your remaining stun gun on Tide. The second she crumpled your grabbed the one she'd been holding and took off running down the street. No matter what they decided to do with you now that they knew your father, you wouldn't go down without a fight.

˗ˏˋ 🌩️⚡️🌩️ ˎˊ˗

Another part of your plan you'd drastically underestimated was the fact that you, a fourteen year old, was supposed to somehow outrun five fully grown adults. Five adults who were trained to catch villains and did so on a daily basis.

Despite that, you were somehow still running. They were obviously still following you. It had started to snow and now that the sun was setting it was getting even colder. You were even more miserable as you gripped onto your stun gun.

You were freezing, tired and overall pissed off. You had been ready to go home but the stupid heroes had to ruin everything per usual.

You were almost ready to just attempt to face them head on when a few factors suddenly combined to make your day even worse. One, Ice Blade froze the ground under your feet. Two, the loss of friction caused you to slip. Three, you landed hard on your right wrist. Four, the pain in your wrist made you press down on the stun gun's power button and you accidentally shocked yourself through your jacket.

"Blade! Look what you did!" Gaea hissed. You glared at them, trying to regain your footing as the medic tried approaching you.

"Hey there kid. Can I take a look at your wrist?"

You slid backwards, using a nearby street light to hoist yourself off the ground. Your breath was coming out in staggering puffs, visible in the cold air. Your wrist and side burned and you felt done with everything.

"Woah there. You shouldn't be trying to stand! You could be hurt really badly!" The medic tried again. You held out one of your stun guns in your uninjured hand.

"Back. Off. Don't touch me." You growled. Your entire body was shaking, both from the pain and from the cold. Your state was deteriorating by the second.

"Woah there kid. Dan's right, you're clearly not doing too hot." Inferno said. "Look, soon the blizzard will get worse and then we'll all be stuck here. So either you wear yourself out or you let us get you somewhere warm. Either way, you're coming with us."

"No! I'm not going anywhere with any of you!" Your words were a lot more hollow when a sudden gust of wind sent you stumbling. At this point your hand was shaking so much you weren't sure you could press the activation button if you wanted to.

"This is getting out of hand." Tide said, striding forward. She had fully recovered from her earlier shock and, despite your best attempts, she disarmed you easily, tossing the stun gun over to Inferno who tucked it away. The second she stuck her hand into your pocket and retrieved the second one your entire body went limp.

The cold was penetrating into the very fibre of your being, your coat and boots useless to stop it from overwhelming you. You could barely make out arms reaching for you and muffled cursing before your knees hit the ground and your vision went dark.

˗ˏˋ 🌩️⚡️🌩️ ˎˊ˗

"We need to report them to the higher ups. They should've been put somewhere secure considering who they are and their history." Gaea said. They had just barely managed to make it back to their team headquarters before everything got snowed in. Now, they were trying to figure out what to do with you.

"Aww, I do kinda feel bad though. They're so young and didn't even really do anything." Blade pouted.

"Speak for yourself! That stun gun hurt way worse than when Shock used it." Tide said. At the name of the fallen vigilante a silence fell over them.

"You know... Shock wasn't really that bad..." Dan said, peeking out of the room you'd been placed in. You were still unconscious and Inferno was with you, trying to help raise your internal temperature.

"I'm not saying we give up on the kid." Gaea clarified. "I think all of us have our own thoughts about Shock and how everything played out that day. Since they didn't inflict any permanent damage maybe the higher ups will let us keep them here."

"Like a rehabilitation program? I suppose that could work. It could open a new window for younger vigilantes and villains." Dan said.

"That sounds so fun!" Ice Blade smiled.

"They seem okay. I probably would've reacted the same way in their situation." Tide admitted, though she still rubbed her side where you'd managed to shock her.

"I'm alright with it. They're stable, by the way." Inferno said, emerging from your room.

"Then its decided. I'll call the higher ups now and see what we can do." Gaea announced. With that their team meeting dispersed. By the time you woke up the next day, your new life would already have been decided for you.

˗ˏˋ 🌩️⚡️🌩️ ˎˊ˗

"I refuse!" Ever since you'd woken up in an unfamiliar bedroom, you'd been surrounded by the same heroes who had ruined your life. In fact, Gaea had just explained that you wouldn't be allowed to leave until they had 'fixed you' and deemed you 'non-dangerous to yourself and others'. On top of that, you had been handcuffed to the bed you were laying on so you couldn't even do anything.

"Well you don't get a say." Inferno said, crossing his arms. He sat at your bedside, literally radiating warmth, to help combat the mild hypothermia you'd contracted.

"You should be happy. We saved you from being sent to jail and ruining your life." Ice Blade said, frowning.

"Blade, you can't just say that!" Tide hissed, smacking him in the back of the head. The two of them began quietly bickering but you were too busy glaring at Gaea to be entertained.

"I'd rather go back to my governmentally mandated family then stay here." You said, which was an insult in your book because you hated your governmentally mandated family.

"That's too bad. Here, we need to keep your temperature up." Dan said, offering you a steaming cup of herbal tea. You refused to take it, eyeing him skeptically.

"They aren't going to take it. Let's just leave them be for now." Gaea said, grabbing Tide and Blade by their costumes and dragging them out of the room. Dan set the tea on a small bedside table while Inferno stayed at your side.

˗ˏˋ 🌩️⚡️🌩️ ˎˊ˗

"I'm not eating that."

Gaea looked like she was about to have a brain aneurysm and Dan looked disappointed. They'd been attempting to feed you dinner, seeing as you were still handcuffed to the bed.

"I can't believe I have to tell you this. Eat your vegetables." Gaea said. She was smiling, but you could feel the anger radiating off of her.

"What if I was allergic?" You asked.

"We were sent your file, which includes all your records. You are not allergic to vegetables." Dan sighed, holding out the fork.

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I want them. You're not my mom." You huffed, turning to face the wall.

"Dan? Remind me of their age."

"Fourteen, why?"

"Because I could've sworn we were dealing with a toddler for a second." Gaea groaned. You smiled to yourself as you heard the two of them leave the room. If you could just annoy them enough then maybe they'd give up on you and let you leave.

"Y/N!" You groaned, attempting to smother yourself with the provided pillow as Ice Blade burst into the room. "Dan let me see you!"

"I really wish he hadn't." You muttered.

"Hey! That's not nice!" You could practically hear the pout in his voice. It didn't take long for him to plop down onto the bed and attempt to rouse you.

"Leave me alone." You glared at him, almost daring him to try something.

"Nope! Dan said we aren't allowed to leave you completely alone until your actual room is finished, because this one is just temporary! I hope it's next to mine! I've never had a baby sibling before!"

"Don't call me that!" You hissed, throwing your pillow at him. He caught it, thanks to hero training or whatever, but his smile never faltered.

"Wow. I leave you alone for two minutes and they look more murderous then before." Gaea said from the doorway. She was holding a smoothie that she placed on your bedside.

"Now, this smoothie is for you. It has some nutrient powder and fruit. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. The easy way is you drink it all right now and we can get on with our days. The hard way is we leave you here until you're so hungry you beg for whatever scraps we may have to give you." You could tell from her tone that she wasn't joking. Seems you'd finally hit your limit. Still it was either smoothie or Ice Blade...

You swallowed your pride and drank the stupid smoothie, looking miserable the entire time. It wasn't fair that it didn't taste bad either. You hated it here and it hadn't even been a day.

˗ˏˋ 🌩️⚡️🌩️ ˎˊ˗

You were finally being let outside, which was rather humiliating to admit. Ever since your kidnapping, or 'rehoming' as they called it, you'd been stuck in their hero agency while they worked on fixing up a room for you and alternating patrols. However, none of them had clothes for a 14 year old, and you refused to wear anything of theirs so they'd been rewashing your clothes every day.

Therefore you were being taken shopping... with three babysitters. During the week or so you'd been trapped here you'd started to work out the dynamics between the five of them. Gaea and Dan were the exasperated parents who were stuck with a bunch of kids.

Inferno was the emo son who was convinced that dying his hair black wasn't a phase. Tide was the middle child who got away with everything. Ice Blade was the youngest who annoyed everyone and was barely tolerated because there wasn't another choice.

Or maybe you were the youngest now... You really hoped they weren't getting attached to you, because you were still plotting ways to escape.

Right now you were being forced to hold Gaea's hand like you were a child as you waited to leave. Inferno, Blake was his civilian name, was standing to the side on his phone and Tide, Phoebe, was looking for her coat. Gaea had just insisted you call her 'mother' while out and hadn't given you her civilian name.

You refused and just decided you would never address her while outside.

"Phoebe, just wear a different coat!" Inferno, or Blake you guessed you should call him, yelled.

"I want my red coat!" She yelled back. It took her five minutes more before Gaea handed you over to Blake and found the coat in 0.2 seconds.

"Now lets go. Y/N, absolutely no funny business." Gaea said, her eyes narrowed.

˗ˏˋ 🌩️⚡️🌩️ ˎˊ˗

Shopping was just as boring as you remembered it to be. Gaea dragged you to different clothing stores, and forced you to pick out some items from each. There were also some clothes she added to the cart that you hadn't picked.

Finally, you'd put your foot down on any more clothes shopping, so you'd been dragged to some sort of home decor place to pick out some things for your room. You were begrudgingly looking at some sheet sets, while Blake and Phoebe added unnecessary commentary.

"Ezekiel's being annoying." Phoebe said, looking at her phone. Ezekiel being Ice Blade's civilian name. You tried to wander away but Blake stopped you, redirecting you towards the sheets.

"Y/N, no. Gia said to pick at least one." Blake said to you before turning to answer Phoebe. "He's the same in and out of costume. You know that."

"No. I don't like any of them." You said. You really wanted the sheets from the apartment you had shared with your dad. Having to get all of this new stuff was off putting and overwhelming. You also took note of the fact that Gaea's civilian name was apparently Gia.

"You need to pick one." Blake repeated. You shook your head.

"No! None of them are right! I don't want any of them!" You yelled. You didn't want to start crying but your eyes burned. You couldn't explain why everything felt so wrong but you needed them to listen.

"Y/N. You are fourteen. Please do not act like a child right now." Gia said, walking down the aisle. You shook your head, trying to back away but being stopped by Blake and Phoebe.

"Fine. Then I'll pick but I don't want to hear you complain later." Gia sighed, walking over to the sheet sets and picking one up.

You just silently stood there, glaring at the ground as tears ran down your face. You tried your best to tune out the world around you, ignoring Gia's questions about whether the set was good enough. Blake and Phoebe's whispers became a quiet white noise as your ears started to ring.

You weren't sure why it was hitting you so hard now. You'd never had this kind of emotional response when you'd been placed with your governmentally mandated family. Then again, they hadn't taken you shopping, just set you up with stuff they already had. Maybe it was the fact that you were being forced to make a choice you didn't want that had finally pushed you over the edge.

You wordlessly let yourself be dragged to each section, not answering anything that was asked of you. You didn't care about blankets or sheets or decor. It wouldn't be the same as it was at your dads. It wouldn't be as perfect as it was at your dads.

"How about this?" Phoebe asked you, handing you a fuzzy blanket. You didn't react but she placed it into the cart anyway. Blake did the same when it came to a few decorative pillows. By the time you were done 'shopping' it was nearing lunch time and you were dragged to the food court to pick out something.

Blake ordered for you when you still hadn't snapped out of your mental prison, but you barely took a few bites. Food just made you nauseous and the thought of these monsters trying to replace your dad made everything worse.

You wanted nothing more than to have this all be a bad dream you would wake up from.

˗ˏˋ 🌩️⚡️🌩️ ˎˊ˗

By the time you'd been dragged back to their base, you were still retreated into your mind. The mug of tea Dan had handed you when you stepped through the door had cooled in your hands. Even Ice Blade's annoying existence, Ezekiel because he was in his civilian getup, had become nothing to you.

You hadn't eaten much at the mall, or even for breakfast, but you weren't hungry. Instead you had curled up on an armchair, because Gia was busy making your new bed 'the right way'. You wanted nothing more than to disappear beneath the sheets, even if they were wrong in the worst ways, and pretend you were a kid again, waiting for your dad to come home.

You barely registered Dan sadly prying the cold and untouched mug from your hands. To you the entire world was going in slow motion. You didn't pick up on anything, much less the conversation happening in whispers right in front of you.

"They didn't even touch the tea... When did they start acting this detached?" Dan asked Phoebe.

"After Gia made them pick out some sheets. They had some sort of breakdown and well..." Phoebe gestured to your detached state. Dan let out a worried hum.

"That's worrying... I don't think they had a record of depressive episodes. Then again, the family they were assigned to after the death of their father did admit they didn't spend much time with them. Maybe they just never noticed?" Dan was frowning deeper, staring at you sympathetically.

"Well, they've got Blake stress baking so at least they'll be something to eat when they do wake up." Ezekiel said, joining the conversation with a freshly baked muffin in hand. It looked to be chocolate chip.

"Everything is set up. Is Blake in the kitchen again?" Gia asked, exiting the room that they had decided would be yours.

"When is he not? Plus, the kid is really stressing him out." Phoebe said, despite her own worried look.

"Want a muffin?" Ezekiel asked, offering his own half eaten muffin. Gia gave him a look and pushed his arm away.

"I don't understand why they're acting like this. They were perfectly fine this morning."

"I might have an idea." Blake said, emerging from the kitchen with a plate of muffins. He placed the plate beside you before moving over to the others. "It could be that it made them remember their dad."

"That's why they were saying it was wrong. It wasn't just going shopping with us that was wrong, it was the sheets themself." Phoebe said.

Suddenly, everything seemed to click into place for all of them. Every sorrow tied back to your father. Your father, who meant everything to you. Your father who they'd found dying in an alleyway from a stab wound. Your father who they hadn't managed to save. Your father, who they gotten the credit for 'taking another vigilante off the streets'. Your father, who they never tried to correct the press or government about his cause of death.

That night had sat with all of them in different ways. Some of them had been brand new to the group, tagging along with their more seasoned peers. Some of them had just been trying to get through another patrol without incident. The truth behind that night had never left the five of them.

"Their old apartment... is there anyway to access it?" Gia asked.

"I doubt it. It's likely been sold with all the old stuff thrown out." Dan said, his tone somber.

"I think we should at least look into it." Ezekiel said, finishing his muffin. "There could be something."

"We can at least try... for Y/N."

˗ˏˋ 🌩️⚡️🌩️ ˎˊ˗

It had taken you a day or two to finally return to feeling in control of your body. Despite that, you still obviously not okay. You refused to touch the bed you'd been given, and barely even entered what was supposed to be your room.

You'd crash on the living room couch or armchair when you did sleep and it was never for long. Usually you'd get three or four hours before waking up from some sort of nightmare. Then you'd spend the rest of the night watching something quietly on the communal TV or playing around on your phone until you passed out again.

It was often for Ezekiel, surprisingly the early riser of the team, to find you curled up wherever you decide to sleep in the morning. He'd learned the hard way, with you punching him in the face and leaving him with a nasty bruise, not to wake you up.

It was clear to the whole team that you weren't doing well. There were permanent bags under your eyes and you always seemed half asleep. You couldn't even muster up the sarcasm they'd gotten used to from you.

It had gotten to the point where Dan had dragged you out to buy some laundry detergent and dryer sheets with him so you could pick out something familiar. It helped a little, but you still refused to touch 'your' bed.

Until one day, Gia announced that she had a surprise for you. So you, and the rest of the team, had been unceremoniously shoved into her surprisingly large car for a drive to some mystery location.

Phoebe was complaining over how you'd gotten shotgun, Ezekiel was begging you to play his playlist because you were closest to the aux cord. Blake and Dan were having some debate based on some show they'd watched. Gia was yelling at everyone to shut up, yet still driving perfectly and you were wishing you had a pair of noise cancelling headphones.

"Alright. Everyone except Y/N out of the car." Gia demanded once she'd stopped in front of a small cafe.

"Huh? Then where are you going and why'd we have to come?" Ezekiel asked with a pout.

"Me and Y/N are doing something special. I didn't want anyone, but especially you, to destroy the base while we're gone. Have some drinks and pastries and I'll pick you up in a bit." It still took a harsh glare from her to make everyone leave the car. You watched them entering the cafe through the rearview mirror as she sped off again.

˗ˏˋ 🌩️⚡️🌩️ ˎˊ˗

You were staring out the window, lost in thought, when you realized the buildings were beginning to look more and more familiar. This was your old neighborhood, the one you grew up in.

You turned to Gia, who didn't react. Instead she kept her eyes on the road, only occasionally glancing at the GPS. It was silent save for the low hum of the car. Slowly the car came closer and closer to your old apartment building.

"When I was barely eight years old," Gia started, "my parents were killed by a villain."

You stared at her as she parked the car outside of your old building. Her face had a sad expression on it as she looked at you, attempting a weak smile.

"This was in the older days, before the new government and rise of heroes. The villain escaped and wasn't caught for another three years. I remember in that time wondering what I, or my parents, had ever done to deserve that. I wanted to find that villain so bad, to avenge my parents. I tried sneaking out multiple times to hunt him down."

Your brain was trying to soak up the new information she was telling you. It was hard to imagine the uptight and serious Gia trying to sneak out to do something so dangerous. Something so similar to what you had done.

"The only reason I didn't was because the family I was placed with made sure I never did that to myself. They made sure I was safe, and encouraged me to process my feelings in less harmful ways. When it was discovered I had powers I was offered to train under some of the top heroes and I took it. I interned under the top hero team for a long time, far before they were elected to power. After that, I took over as a leader within the new generation of hero teams." Gia paused, taking a deep breath.

"What I'm trying to say is, I can understand where you're coming from. But eventually, you will need to learn to move forward. We, all of us, want to help you with that. You're destroying yourself right now. You barely eat or sleep and you're always on edge. Hopefully, what we're here for will help a little, but I need you to try your best to start to heal."

With that Gia opened her door and climbed out of the car, you following silently. You trailed behind her as she pulled out a key and led you to your old apartment.

"I called the landlord the other day. No one has rented the place yet, seeing as a lot of the people who lived here are moving towards downtown and their jobs. Because of that, the stuff you left here hasn't been touched. I want you to take what you need to feel comfortable." She said, unlocking the door.

It looked just the way you had left it, albeit more dusty. The sight brought tears to your eyes. Photos of you, some with your dad, lined the walls. You hesitantly stepped into the apartment, tears filling your eyes as memories replayed in your head. On autopilot you walked over to your old room.

It was just as you'd left it. Your dresser was open from when you'd been forced to pack light to be moved in with the family you'd been placed with. Your bed was still half made. Nothing had changed, like the room had been frozen in time. Slowly you walked back out into the hallway and made your way to your dad's room.

His clothes were just as he left them, neatly folded on his bed waiting to be put away. His bed was neatly made, just the way he liked it. On his nightstand was a picture of you on your ninth birthday, smiling with a plastic crown on your head. You sunk to the floor, feeling around for a lose floorboard which you pried up. Under it lay the remnants of his vigilante gear. Some grappling hooks and a spare mask.

Picking up the mask was what made you finally break down. You sobbed, holding onto it like a lifeline. You could only hope your father was happy wherever he was right now.

˗ˏˋ 🌩️⚡️🌩️ ˎˊ˗

Gia drove silently, her hands firm on the wheel as she kept glancing over at you. You'd fallen asleep the second you'd finished packing what you wanted to bring with you. That included a couple of sheet sets as well as a bunch of photos and clothes.

When she picked up the rest of the team from where she'd dumped them, not one of them had made more noise then necessary, very aware that you needed the sleep.

Back at the base Gia quietly instructed the others to grab the things you'd wanted while she went to gently lift you out of the car. She froze when you wrapped your arms around her neck, groaning at the light.

With a smile she carried you inside to the couch. Laying you down and covering you with a fluffy blanket. Within seconds you'd fallen back into a deep sleep, completely at peace. In a few hours, all the laundry would be done and you'd finally have what you needed to feel comfortable there.

Soon you'd trust them more. Then, you'd begin to talk to them and you'd stop trying to be unnecessarily difficult. You'd have a family again and you'd never want for anything again. Not if they could help it.

After all, once the higher ups saw that rehabilitation was a successful option, she'd petition for permanent custody. Then you'd legally be a part of their patchwork family for good.

#platonic yandere #yandere platonic #yandere #yandere oc x reader #yandere x reader #platonic #yandere ocs #parental yandere

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queenpiranhadon · 1 year ago

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A/N: You all voted on this poll, and this poll, and this poll, and after a LOT of voting, I present you this :) BIG thanks to @that-multi-fandom-hijabi for beta reading this go follow her writing acc rn (@novaaaaaa-writes). Here's my masterlist!

Warning(s): Enemies to lovers trope, mentions of burning, stabbing, blood, bad descriptions of both fire of water (ice, snow ?) bending, Zuko is whipped, just a little confused about it, reader is a baddie, water benders unite (not me tho), reader is GN but written with f!reader in mind, reader looks non-threatening, is underestimated a lot, this takes place at the end of season one, I think that's it

Pairing: Prince Zuko x GN!Reader

•──•°•❀•°•─── ʜɪꜱ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀʙᴇɴᴅᴇʀ ───•°•☁︎•°•───•

“You shouldn’t be here” you glare, your gaze sending shivers down his spine.

But that could just be because of all the snow and ice surrounding the both of you.

The fire prince remains unfazed though, his amber eyes sweeping over your form- assessing the threat you posed.

He could take you down in seconds.

Zuko doesn’t respond to your jab though, because he knew you were wrong. He had to be here, it was the only way he could finally receive his father’s favor- as the heir and as the son of Firelord Ozai. It was his duty, his honor.

And he wasn’t going to let a non-threatening waterbender get in the way of that.

Reaching back, he unsheathes his dual swords, the glint of the waning moonlight reflecting the dangerous glint in his eye.

And yet you didn’t back down.

Pooling some water from your waterskin, you assumed the stance you had trained yourself to take whenever you honed your skills. One with the water, one with the ice.

‘Power should flow, not force itself” Master Pakku had told you once.

People had always underestimated your skills, saying you were better suited for healing. But after showing Master Pakku how you could use your bending to control the falling snow around you, he gave you a chance.

He had told you to let the power settle in your body before releasing, instead of forcing it out immediately. Conceal and then control.

You met Zuko’s fiery gaze with an icy one of your own. You were going to protect your home.

With a yell, you form flurries of snow, whipping around your form as you channel your strength to change the form of your flurry, snow turning to water, water turning to sharp daggers of pure ice.

Zuko scowls, setting his hands ablaze and you run at each other, fire meeting ice.

Time slows down, as the intensity of your elements picks up, until all you could hear was the steady thump – thump – thump – of your heart, and the roar of crystalline knives swirling around you.

Flames lick the side of your leg, wincing as the raw burn of the fire sears through your skin in white-hot pain. Razor sharp icy shards cut into Zuko’s skin, finding chinks in his armor, piercing his flesh and drawing blood.

The snow beneath the both of you was dotted red now, both of you staring at each other, panting heavily.

“You really shouldn’t be here.” you repeat again, but this time, it was barely a whisper, swallowing down tears as the cold wind of the Northern Water Tribe stung your gaping wounds.

Zuko growls, grunting in pain as he pulls a shard of ice out of his skin.“I don’t take orders from a little waterbender” he spat, venom dripping from his words.

You reciprocate with a snide comment of your own. “This ‘little waterbender’ just sunk 5 icicles into your skin.”

Zuko was just about ready to tear your head off, hands igniting with vermillion flames before you collapse, the burns along your thigh and calf were much more severe than either of you realized.

You choke out a sob of pain but keep your control of the water left in your waterskin. You couldn’t die, not today, and not at the hands of the prince of the Fire Nation.

Zuko’s heart throbs unexpectedly, the look on your face too familiar for comfort. The face of someone who worked so desperately hard, only for all that effort to go down the drain. But he didn’t care for you. He couldn’t- couldn’t grow attachment to a non-threatening waterbender. Yet you sat there on the snow, dotted with blood, with that raw look in your eyes. His flames extinguished, without him meaning to.

You flinched as he threw his swords down frustrated, impaling themselves into the nearby snow mound, standing straight up.

He stomps over to you, and you frantically move back, but your leg flares up in pain again, and you yelp, hissing in pain.

“Stop moving, you’ll make it worse.” he says, glaring at you, but not as intensely as he had before.

You want to scream, kick him, punch him, anything, but your body betrays you as he sweeps you up into his arms, carrying you to the nearest place he can find, where he can keep you safe. You feel his strong arms hook under your knees and under your back, holding you securely to his firm chest. Even through his armor, he radiates warmth, a gentle heat, unlike the flames he threw at you merely minutes ago.

He hates this, with every fiber in my being, his voice screaming at him to drop you and burn your frail body to a crisp, vengeance for the blood dripping from his own body, but he keeps moving, step after painstaking step.

You try to stay awake, you really do, yet channeling so much energy from your battle, the numb throb in your lower leg, and the comforting heat radiating off the fire prince who refuses to look at you, you slip into unconsciousness.

Zuko feels a weight press against his chest, and he huffs, honey-colored eyes catching onto the details of your face, the curve of your nose, the apples of your cheeks, the slight pout of your lips as you nuzzle into his armor unintentionally, how pretty you were when you were at peace.

He stops himself there, reprimanding himself for thinking such things. He can’t have feelings for the enemy.

And yet, even as he and his troops head home, battle wearing and dejected from the loss of a major battle, Zuko can’t help but think about his little waterbender.

***

When you wake up, the kind woman tending to you tells you all about the mysterious and handsome man who carried your sleeping form across the entire Northern Water Tribe because he didn’t know where the healing center was.

#zuko x reader #zuko x you #atla zuko #fire lord zuko #prince zuko #zuko #avatar of the last airbender #atla #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko x you #prince zuko x y/n #water bender reader #help 'power should flow not force itself'??#I have mixed thoughts about this #zuko x y/n #avatar the last airbender #zuko avatar #zuko avatar the last airbender #⋆｡‧˚ʚ 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖑𝖔𝖚𝖉 𝖆𝖗𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖛𝖊𝖘 ɞ˚‧｡⋆

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mrsfudd · 2 months ago

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see you tomorrow?

You worked at a small treats cafe in Dallas tx. You really didn’t know much about sports and were unsure if you’d ever heard the name “Paige Bueckers”. Little did you know that was the only name you heard for weeks. Paige is new to the city and decided to do a little exploring, she didn’t expect to also be exploring a new relationship.

It was around 4 ish pm and you were waiting tables. You honestly loved your job and coworkers too. It was quiet on weekdays and busy on weekends. You made great pay and were fresh out of college. You lived in a beautiful high rise apartment alone and lived a peaceful life.

“Y/N! Table 4 is ready to order” You boss yelled from behind the counter.

“Hey yall, ready to order?” You said to the older couple pulling out your notepad.

“Yes I would love a hot coffee 3 sugars 2 creams and maybe one of those strawberry crepes.” The woman said with a slight smile.

“And I would love a slice of that lemon cake” The man said.

“Okay, is that all?” You said looking up at them.

“Yes, thanks so much doll” The woman said handing you two menus.

You walk behind the counter humming whatever was playing on the speakers. You start to prepare the coffee and hand the chef your paper. You start pouring the coffee as the door opens. A tall muscular blonde walks into the cafe. Her hair was down and she wore a white tee with some sweat pants.

You look up at her and immediately lock eyes but she was already looking at you. You break the eye contact once you realize that you over poured the drink and burnt your hand a little. You let out a small curse under your breath as you start wiping up the coffee. You glance back at her and she had a grin on her face. You roll your eyes and continue cleaning your mess.

Once the chef had the crepes and cake ready, you balance a plate on your arm and carry the other with the coffee cup.

“Here you go, enjoy” You say giving the couple their order.

You walk over to the blonde whos looking down at the menu. As you approach her table, she brushes a strand of hair behind her ear and looks up at you.

The eye contact made you a little flustered, her eyes were beautiful.

“Hey there, ready to order or you need some more time? You ask breaking the eye contact.

She completely ignores your question and asks “Hey, is your hand okay? Lemme see”. Before you answer she grabs your hand and looks at the small burn on your thumb. “Shame, maybe you should of been paying attention to what you were doing instead of staring at me” She says with a stupid smirk on her face.

You sit there with your hand in hers for maybe a little too long. You had your mouth open but nothing was coming out. You just looked at her large hands wrapped around yours until you finally break the silence. “Uhm, ready to order?” You say pulling back your hand.

“Yea i’ll just have a chocolate chip cookie, thanks pretty” She says with the same smirk.

You smile at the name and grab her menu. As your walking away you feel eyes piercing the back of your head. You know she’s watching.

Your running your hand under cold water, trying to sooth the burn as you heard a bunch of screaming.

You whip your head only to see a bunch of kids crowding and jumping around that lady. Confused you keep watching as she gets up and takes a photo with them.

“THANK YOU SO MUCH PAIGE” One of the little girls yell as they walk out the cafe.

You prepare her cookie and walk over to where she was sitting.

“What was all that?” You ask as you set down the small plate.

“Im Paige Beuckers” She says so confidently. She didnt see your facial expression change not once. “I play basketball for the Dallas Wings” She said but your still confused. “You know, I used to play for Uconn”. She explains but your still not getting it. “Went 1st draft pick in the Wnba” She says. Once she finally understands that you genuinely have no clue who she is, she pulls put her phone and shows you her instagram. Your eyes light up at the follower count.

“Ohh, so your some sorta big shot then?” You say with a little smile.

“Ehh, you can say that” Paige says.

You give a slight nod and start to walk away until you hear her say “ And what about you? Who are you?”

You turn around and say “ Well im Y/n and I work here”. You to go walk away again and she says “Damn thats all I get to know?”.

“Well what do you wanna know?” You ask putting one hand down on the table, leaning on your arm.

“Shit everything ma” Paige said with that same smirk. You wanted to slap it right off her face.

You chuckle and just walk away, leaving her unsatisfied.

The next day.

You had a shift at 6 pm. It was only Thursday so it wasn’t too busy, nothing you couldn’t handle.

About a hour into your shift, your behind the counter restocking the pies as somebody walks in. Thinking nothing of it you quickly peer up seeing if it was one of your regulars but it wasn’t. It was the same Paige girl from yesterday.

For some reason you felt your face heating up, what the fuck you thought, please dont tell me your feeling her.

As you stand up, closing the bakery shelf door, your eyes meet hers once again. That little grin on her face pops up once again but today was different. You found yourself smiling back. Oh god.

You let out a big sigh and slightly rolled your eyes as you approached her table.

“Missed me?” Paige asked.

“Mhm yup so much” You say sarcastically.

“Bet you did gorgeous” Paige chuckles as she looks down at her menu.

“Need more time?” You ask.

“Nope, can I get a chocolate chip cookie please” She said dragging out the e.

“Yes ma’am” You say grabbing her menu.

“Ooo I like that” She jokes.

You give her a look over your shoulder as you walk away.

You prepare her cookie on a small plate with a nicely folded napkin.

“Here we go” You say placing the plate in front of her.

“Thank you so much gorgeous” Paige says looking up at you.

You walk away and to the woman who was waiting to get her order taken.

You take her order and she says a joke that makes you giggle. As your laughing, you feel eyes on you, her eyes. She only had one thought and it was “what the fuck was so funny and whos making her laugh like that”.

You hear Paige call out ready for her check. “Yummy?” You ask as you write out her receipt.

“So yummy, but I see another snack standing in front of me” Paige said.

“Oh yea? And what could that be” You say with a fake attitude.

“You ma” Paige said confidently.

“Mhmm” You say as you hand her the receipt. “We’ll about that”.

“See you tomorrow gorgeous” Paige said standing up looking down at you.

She started to walk away and you say “ bye bye now”.

“Cute accent” Paige said stepping out the door.

You smile to yourself as you tend to more customers.

Weirdly enough you were feeling her. Even though she was dumb and cocky, you couldn’t get her out of your head.

A week later.

Paige came in every single day. You slowly started to flirt back. She was funny and light but also serious and determined all at the same time. When the cafe was slow you found yourself sitting across from her. Just talking about anything and everything. You finally let her in your life a little and she did the same. You confessed to her that you didn’t know anything about basketball and her reaction was priceless.

Now it was around 5 and Paige had a question to ask.

“So um” She said basically in a whisper.

“Yea?” You said looking at her pink flushed face.

You got nervous.

“Would you maybe wanna go on a date tomorrow night? After I get out of practice.” Paige said.

You never seen her so nervous before, it was honestly pretty cute.

“I would love to” You say trying to hide your excitement.

“Oh, Oh! Great, i’ll come here and wait til your shifts done then we can go out” Paige said.

“Sounds great, see you tomorrow?” You say blushing.

“See you tomorrow gorgeous” Paige said standing up, leaving the cafe.

#paige bueckers x reader #uconn wbb #azzi fudd x reader #kk arnold x reader #paige bueckers smut #wnba #pazzi x reader #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball #dallas wings #wlw fluff #wlw post #wlw ns/fw #wlw smut

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urblondiebaby · 1 year ago

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WHAT ONCE WAS

Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader

At dinner with Jacaerys, your newly betrothed, the pair of you recount memories from your childhood. wc: 1.2k fluffy asf 💌

“We used to be friends once. Do you remember that?”

This wasn’t the conversation you were expecting to have nor wanted to have at the current moment. Sat with your newly betrothed and his family at the dinner table, you watched while your mother and father chugged down wine like it was their last night alive. From your seat, you could see your brothers’ dancing with women that were not their wives, lustful looks in each of their eyes.

You supposed your betroval could’ve been worse, a hundred times over. You could’ve been wed to someone like your brothers, promiscuous and irresponsible, or like your betrothed’s uncles, cold and cruel beyond belief.

No, Jacaerys was a proper gentleman which is why you almost felt bad sipping your wine and lying through your teeth. “Not particularly.”

Everything had changed since then, there was no point in admitting that your heart swelled at the memories of when you were young, harboring a crush on a boy you thought would never be yours. It was better to forget. To diminish the hope that he was still the lovely boy he once was.

“No?” Jacaerys repeated as if he didn’t believe you, leaning forward to rest his head in his palm. In the corner of your eye, you could see him looking at you underneath his eye lashes, his lips twitching as he fights a teasing smile. “Nothing at all?”

Sighing softly, you kept your eyes staring ahead, refusing to give him the even slightest affirmation to his question, yet he continued. His head fell off his hand as he spoke, tilting to meet his shoulder as he looked at you with endearment. “Do you remember when we played tag around the castle and you fell and scraped your knees?”

It’s like you can see it from an outsider’s perspective as he describes it, the edges of your mind blurred by nostalgia.

The sound of your laughter echoing the castle walls, the quick thumps of your feet padding the concrete floor, hands bracing against each corner to boost your momentum.

Sparing a glance behind you, you can visualize the bounces of his brown curls, baring his teeth with joy as his hands reach to grab you, but you push forward, the last of your energy— which you shouldn’t have done because it sent you tripping, missing the very last step and landing on your knees.

But you didn’t cry because of your scraped knees, even though you can remember the burn of your skin, the blood dripping down your shins as Jacaerys brought you to your mother. You sobbed into Jacaerys’ shoulder as the maidens rubbed ointments onto your cuts, your hands fumbling to grasp the mud covered edges of your dress so it wouldn’t interfere with their practice.

Your betrothed finishes your thought for you. “You started crying because you ruined your favorite dress. Although, I thought it still looked pretty.”

Jacaerys’ eyebrows jump, as if he was surprised when you turned to him. He must’ve been close to a heart attack when he saw a small smile on your lips. Nodding as you talked, you continued the memory, “It had grass stains from when we played outside. By the lake.”

He doesn’t chastise you for lying earlier, instead he just smirks at the memory. “You pushed me in.”

You suck in a small breath as you turn your body to him fully, your eyes wide— defenses ready on your tongue. He kept trying to get you to sit with him, to kick your legs in the water and reap the benefits of the cold water of the hot day. It was your brothers who waved you in, mischief dripping from the tongues as they pushed you back toward your friend. You braced your hands on his shoulders and just shoved.

Right after the deed had been done, you were overwhelmed with guilt, your brothers’ cackles ringing in your ears as your lips trembled watching Jace gasp for air.

“My brothers coerced me to! I would’ve never done that myself.”

Jacaerys shook his head, knees lightly knocking into yours as moved to match your position. He glared playfully. “You were a little devil.”

He forgave you immediately though. Pulling you into a hug, soaking your clothes, but you hadn’t mind. You were just happy he wasn’t mad at you.

Snorting at his accusation, eyes finding your dancing brothers in the crowd once more. They never did change. Still wild, crazy, and deceitful as the day they popped out your mother’s womb. The poor woman. You hope your children won’t turn out like your brothers. You hope Jacaerys hasn’t changed. In the midst of your reverie, you don’t notice how the man next to observes you. How his eyes memorize the colors in your eyes, the slope of your nose, the dip of your cupids bow. He hopes this all will become a memory one day— the quick shift between your awkwardness to your full encompassing love.

He knows he’ll love you, just as he had when you were children.

It’s Jacaerys’ voice that drawls you back from your thoughts, your eyes turned to his, but he’s focused on picking at the table cloth. “I remember, last time I saw you, I cried because I had to leave.”

Without meaning to, your smile deepens, something stirring in the pit of your stomach. Teasing, you whisper, “You cried?”

Jacaerys rolls his eyes, running a hand through his curls as he finally makes eye contact with you. “I fancied you. Of course, I got teary eyed when I was forced away.”

For a beat, it’s like your heart stopped, overwhelmed by the weight of the words he threw so nonchalantly. Like it didn’t matter. Like it didn’t make your stomach flutter and a heat to your cheeks. You’re in complete disbelief. “You fancied me?”

“Don’t rub it in,” he scoffed.

“No, it’s just…” I fancied you too.

The words are left unspoken, but it doesn’t stop you from spiraling. Throwing your head back in laughter, you sound close to ugly, but you’re happy. You haven’t been happy in a while.

“There’s the smile,” he says it like he missed it. In all fairness, he does. When he flew on his dragon and hadn’t been welcome by the familiar grin in your lips, a bit of his heart shattered in his chest. He was glad he got you smiling at him again because when he was seven years of age, that was all he wanted to do. It’s all he wants to do. For the rest of his life. “I can remember that.”

“Jacaerys—.”

“You used to call me Jace,” he says, growing the courage to connect your hands together, holding both of them just as he planned since he was child. “I liked it when you said it.”

“Would you like it if I called you Jace?”

He smiled sweetly. “Very much so.”

There’s no other way to describe it other than that it feels right; the two of you together again, smiling at each other like idiots while you reminisce, holding each other’s hands like you were already wed. Like this had been planned since the beginning.

Jace’s thumb caresses your ring finger— where his wedding ring would be on the morrow.

Maybe, you two can make things the way they once were. Together. Happy. And in love.

i’ll edit and proof read later 💀 if this is shit i apologize

jacaerys velaryon, i will love you forever 💌

#yovrnewromantic #jacaerys velaryon x reader #hotd x reader #this may be shit #house of the dragon #jacaerys velaryon #prince jacaerys #jacaerys targaryen #hotd jacaerys #jacaerys x reader #hotd blurb #house of the dragon x reader

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icypopz · 1 year ago

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bathing with them ♡

↬ request from anon ; Hiiii may I pls request the love and deepspace boys with a reader who loves taking baths with them??

↬ notes ; rafayel, xavier, zayne x gn!reader

↬ from ice ; ice active era?! jk we all know i'm lying atp HAHAHA but here's my annual post which is also my first post for LADS :> i changed the prompt a bit but i hope u enjoy !

↬ warning(s) ; tiny spoilers for rafayel's backstory, xavier's is like microscopically suggestive

please reblog ! it helps a lot :)

[ rafayel ! ]

rafayel absolutely adores taking baths with you, even though he loves to tease you about being too clingy (he's actually the clingy one, but he'll never admit it for the world). he loves just chilling in the bathtub with you, especially on winter nights where he'll pull you closer in the hot water, complaining that "i need more warmth! protect me from the cold, miss bodyguard!"

he would get playfully annoyed when you joke about wanting to see his mermaid tail when he gets into the bathtub, scolding you about how lemurians also have powers to lure humans in and he'll be doing that to you if you don't get in the bath with him "right now!" also rafayel doesn't really like rubber ducks, he says it's weird that humans like to put toys like that in the water when they could just go swim in a lake if they wanted to see ducks. but! he does love bubble baths, he loves to put the bubbles in your hair, and when you make a beard for him with the foam, he finds it the cutest ever.

rafayel definitely has like several hundred bottles of soap, shampoo and conditioner in varying scents, claiming that their fragrance was so inspiring he just had to buy all of them. (the truth is, he wasn't sure which one you'd like so he just bought everything.) it's really helpful for when you stay over at his place though, you don't have to worry about packing a vanity case because he keeps everything ready for you, from your favourite toothpaste to a spare toothbrush. he also loves seeing you wrapped up in a towel, he thinks you look so adorable.

more content utc !

[ xavier ! ]

xavier isn't picky, he doesn't mind using either a bathtub or a shower, but after you visit him a couple of times, you definitely tell him he should use the shower instead. he always ends up falling asleep while he's soaking in the bathtub! he definitely loves showering with you though, he'll always do stuff like scrub your back or help comb through your tangled hair without you needing to ask. but it's almost impossible for both of you to bathe quickly, because you always end up getting distracted. who can you blame you though? it's not your fault xavier is so muscled from all his training!

xavier is the type who showers in freezing cold water, but he's willing to compromise if you don't like that. he ends up realising that hot water is more fun because he gets to write silly messages and draw hearts for you on the glass since it gets fogged up from the steam. also xavier's brain would totally crash the first time he showered with you, it would be that one tender night card all over again except better LOL. he's just that obsessed with you, you're the prettiest person with the best personality he's ever seen!

xavier would be one of those guys that has like the '10-IN-1! SHAMPOO, CONDITIONER, SOAP!' soap bottles. it's not that he isn't bothered about hygiene, he just finds it a lot simpler to use one single bottle for everything, and it evidently works for him since his skin is so clear and his hair is so fluffy. but ever since you've started staying over, xavier takes note of your favourite soaps and stocks up on them (especially after you tease him for that pitiful bottle of soap in his bathroom - he's the type to squeeze out every single last drop of soap from the tube so the bottle definitely looks like it has been through The Horrors).

[ zayne ! ]

zayne would usually prefer showering over bathing usually, because he's used to maximising time for work in his schedule, so he likes everything in his personal life to be extremely efficient. but once he starts dating you, that does kind of change. on days where he doesn't have to rush into work for urgent cases, or nights after a hectic day, he enjoys relaxing with you in the bathtub - it's a little slice of heaven for him to have you pressed up against him in the warm water.

zayne likes using his evol to tease you while you're showering. though he isn't usually a playful person and his humour is quite dry, the intimacy of being in such close proximity to him makes him act up a little LOL. so when you ask him to soap your back or anything like that, he'll purposely make his fingertips cold so you shiver when he touches you. "zayne!" you'll scold him, and he'll just let out a soft chuckle before doing what you actually asked him to.

zayne would just have the bare minimum essentials in his bathroom, but i also think he would be the type to buy in bulk so he only has to go out shopping once in a while. this way, when his soap runs out he can just get a new bottle from his cupboard. he likes going into his bathroom and seeing little traces of you all over the room, like your toothbrush in his cup or your favourite soap on his shelf - it makes him happy because it's like a reminder of you even when you aren't there.

✧ thank you for reading ! if you have a request, feel free to send it in 🌠

#[ my writing — ! ]#[ love & deepspace — ! ]#love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace #love & deepspace x reader #love & deepspace #rafayel x reader #xavier x reader #lads x reader #zayne x reader #lads rafayel #lads xavier #lads zayne #lads

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bubbless-s · 1 year ago

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⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆.Rain drops ₊˚.༄

Request: “Could you do slytherin boys + Pansy first time showering together?”

Masterlist

- ʚɞ genre: fluff+comedy

- ʚɞ warnings: a little suggestive

Tom Riddle

• Would put the water super cold but changes it when he sees that you’re freezing.

• Pins you on the glass door.

• Became slightly clingy after the shower?

• “Come here my darling.”

• Surprise surprises he let you wash his hair.

• Suddenly got urges to play with your ass.

• Lost his cool and asked why did it jiggle this much.

Mattheo Riddle

• Opposite of Tom he puts the water so hot that you almost fry.

• Uses all your expensive creams and products on his balls..

• Actually helps you with washing your body.

• Of course its an opportunity to touch you. Why wouldn’t he take it.

• Gets cocky and kisses your body while washing it

• Hands on your ass squeezing it as if its a stress toy.

• Without giving you love bites Mattheo isn’t Mattheo.

Theodore Nott

• Starts talking in Italian. Bro got so amazed he switched to italian dub.

• Can’t stop smirking it kinda looks stupid like a kid who just got their Christmas gift earlier.

• Singing contest with you and the shampoo bottles.

• Probably practiced his singing infront of the mirror to impress you or sum

• Kisses all over your collar bone.

• Would also help you with your hair like shampooing it and giving it a little massage.

• After the shower Theo would help you dry your hair.

Draco Malfoy

• WOULDNT let you touch his precious hair.

• Loud white girl 2016 music. (Also sings in your ear.)

• “Babe how do you not know the lyrics to señorita?”

• Hugs you from behind and lifts you up randomly.

• “Angel is the water fine for you?”

• Wants to kiss you under the shower to make if all romantic but as he was about to kiss you he um..slips.

• As a result you and Draco after the shower have a make out session. I don’t make the rules Draco does.

Lorenzo Berskshire

• Would be super duper careful and slightly shy since its the first time showering together with you.

• Kisses your whole face.

• Puts on music to ease the tension.

• After calmness comes,he scoops you up while singing some random songs he put.

• Would draw dicks the foggy glass door 😭

• Got confused why you have this much products and accidentally put shower gel on your hair thinking it was shampoo.

• “Love look Im literally Elsa.”

Blaise Zabini

• “GOD DAYUM.”

• Touches your hips and waist.

• Tons of small kisses while his hands rest on your hips for some unknown reason.

• Jokingly put the water on cold pretending something was wrong with the shower instead.

• Asks you stupid questions if you get shy.

• “Darling do you think fishes don’t know what wetness is because they always live under water?”

• Tried to snuggle up with you. (mission= unsuccessful)

Pansy Parkinson

• Is so excited to have her first shower with you.

• Would treat you like a royalty. Like she made up a new skincare routine for you in the shower.

• Queen Pansy would leave the water to your liking even tho she might not like it.

• Bought a bunch of new products to try out with you.

• “This shower gel feels nice on the skin but it doesn’t smell that good. What do you think sunshine? Do you like it?”

• If you DO like a product she will buy lots of it for you.

• Overall the showering experience with Pansy is 10/10.

#tom riddle x reader #tom riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy #lorenzo berkshire #blaise zabini x reader #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson x reader #pansy parkinson

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angel5ofp0rn · 1 year ago

Text

♡ part one ♡

ExHusband!Price x f!reader

been thinking ab this post 4ever and need to get it out tbh.

**I’ve never done something like this b4 and I haven’t proofread so pls be nice 2 me ._. **

You have been divorced from your ex husband John Price for two years. Still, he comes over and shovels your driveway for you every time it snows.

He’s come inside and warmed up in the mudroom nearly every 15-20 minutes, puffing hot breath into his hands and rubbing them together for warmth before stepping back out and shoveling again.

You meet him in the mudroom for his fourth warm-up break and hand him a mug of hot coffee. Dash of cream, one sugar.

“Still how you take your coffee, right?” You offer a small smile, hugging your arms around yourself as John takes a sip from the mug.

“Still the same.” He nods before he takes another sip, the small smile that had appeared at the corner of his mouth quickly fading.

He leans up against the doorframe, the shovel leaning against the wall next to him. He peers out of the door's window, checking over his work.

“I'll get goin' soon enough. It ain't snowing right now, the drive's nearly clear.”

You thank him again, even though you never asked him to do this in the first place. You can’t help but look up at him, meeting his blue eyes for just a moment.

Before he could reply, your two children came running around the corner cheering and squealing when they saw their dad.

John's smile brightens at their presence, his body language immediately softening as he squatted down to their level.

“Hey, my little monkeys. Come give yer ol’ dad a hug.” He opens his arms out wide, inviting both of them to come to him. It doesn't take long before they both go crashing into him, squealing, smiling. Their giggles filled the small room.

You just smile. Even if you and John aren’t always on the best of terms, you can’t deny that he’s a great father.

“Daddy’s cold.” Your youngest shivers a bit from hugging their dad, who still had snow on his clothes and frost on his beard from shoveling.

John tries to shrug it off, but you ask him to stay and warm up for a while.

For the kids, of course.

Plus dinner is nearly ready, and you definitely made too much for just you and the kids, anyway.

More cheering, more squealing, more giggling as John finally agrees and kicks his boots off, hanging his coat on the hook.

John’s blue eyes scan the new decor and different paintings on the wall, but he doesn’t comment on how much the place has changed since he moved out.

After dinner, the two of you stand in the doorway as you watch the kids play together in their playroom, that used to be John’s “man cave”.

“They're gonna make you tuck them in.” You mention, sipping your glass of wine.

John smiles, a casual shrug of his shoulders.

“Maybe you can convince them to go up and brush their teeth?” You lower your wineglass and offer a fake, pleading pout.

He looks down for a moment, pretending not to see the gesture. Instead, he looks back to the children.

“Right then, you two little monkeys. It’s gettin’ late. Go on up and brush your teeth. I’ll come tuck you in.”

Both children protest for a while, but eventually give in without too much of a fight. That’s a new one.

John lets out a chuckle as the children roll their eyes and go up the stairs. He watches them disappear from view before turning and meeting your eyes again, still smiling for this small victory.

As if he had just realized he was staring, John’s eyes darted down into his now empty mug.

"Let me take that." You reach for his mug but he shakes his head.

"I haven’t forgotten where the kitchen is," He smiles a bit. "'ll clean up and then tuck the kids in."

John makes his way over to the kitchen, placing it in the sink and starting water. You follow, and notice that he was also washing the dishes from dinner as well.

“John, you don’t have to-“

“I know.”

And that’s that.

You chew your bottom lip. This looked too familiar. It felt too familiar.

"I'm... gonna go check on them and get them in their pj's." You gesture to the stairs in the hall.

He looks up at you briefly and nods; "Be up in a bit, love.”

Once the water is emptied from the sink, he starts loading the dishes into the dishwasher. Once completed, he starts to wipe down the counters and stovetop, wanting to make sure he left no mess behind. Then he trekked back up the stairs to tuck in the kids.

You’re downstairs again, on the living room sofa. You wanted to let John have a moment alone with the kiddos before he left again.

He makes his way down the stairs and sees you sitting there in the dim lighting. He clears his throat a bit as he walks through the living room and back into the mudroom.

“They're tucked in. Not a whisper from ‘em.” He mentions casually as he gets his snow boots back on.

You thank him, turning to watch him leave, but notice him looking out of the door window and pause. So you make your way over to the door to see what he’s seeing.

It's started snowing and the driveway is completely covered again. It looks like he hasn't even shoveled.

John lets out a grunt of disbelief and sighs, pulling on his beanie and reaching for the shovel once again.

“Don't-“ You shake your head, placing your hand on the shovel. “It's snowing hard, there's no point in shoveling it all up just for it to be covered again. Why don't you... stay on the couch or something tonight.”

He stares down at the shovel for a moment, debating it. After a beat, he sighs a bit, nodding.

“I... could do that.”

You go upstairs to the bedroom and bring John some extra pillows and blankets to make a bed on the couch with.

You set everything on the coffee table and the two of you sit on the couch for a moment, just catching up and chatting about the kids.

“The kids both want to do soccer in the spring.” You mention, your cheeks a bit rosy from the wine you had with dinner.

“Football.” He corrects with a small smirk. You roll your eyes.

“Let me pay for the lessons.” He says; not asking.

Of course you refuse.

Of course he insists.

You settle on splitting it.

Then it happens again. Your eyes meet his. Neither one of you speaks. Suddenly you’re transported back to the first night you met; you were newly 21 and already tipsy when your eyes met those of an older man in his fatigues as he sat at the bar. You remember drunkly telling the older man that he had the prettiest blue eyes, and that you wanted a hundred of his babies that looked just. like. him.

You have two, at least.

“Oh!” You sit up a bit straighter, snapping out of your daydream. “I was going to ask you to look at something on my laptop. It's doing that thing again. It's upstairs.” You get up and head to your home office, John right behind you.

You open your laptop and hand it to John. He knew how to fix it last time, so it should take him no time.

He sits in your office chair and you step away into your bedroom across the hall to get into a pair of pajama shorts and a hoodie, since it's getting late.

The laptop whirred softly before he got it running again. Only took a minute. He sets it on the desk, leaning back in your chair with his hands behind his head as he looks up through the open door where you can be found, changing in the bedroom.

You were his wife at one point, anyway. Isn’t something he hasn’t seen before…

After you’ve changed, you lay on your bed, scrolling through your phone as you wait for John to fix the issue with your laptop, unaware that he was watching. Unaware that the laptop has been fixed for a while now, and he was just wasting time.

Eventually, his voice wafts through the doorway.

“Think I got it, love-“ He pauses for a moment. “Er, Y/N.”

“Ugh, thank you.” You sigh and sit up, taking the laptop from him and setting it on your nightstand. “Stupid thing always acting up.”

John sits on the edge of your bed as you take the laptop back from him.

“Not a problem. It was a quick fix.” He offers a small smile, rubbing the back of his head.

He takes a glance at you, noticing the pajamas you had put on.

"...Is that my sweatshirt?"

You blush a bit sheepishly, looking down at the oversized, grey 2XL Special Air Service hoodie you’re wearing. "Um..."

Another small chuckle escapes his lips. He shakes his head a bit, trying to contain his amusement.

“S’what I thought. You look... comfy." He reaches his hand out towards your leg, running his hand lightly over your bare legs, exposed by the shorts you were wearing.

Without realizing what he's doing, he has his hand on your thigh, and he gives it a light squeeze.

Eventually his hand travels higher to rest on your sex over your pajama shorts.

Usually, you'd tell him off. Monologue about how this isn't how things work because it complicated things and you both need to set boundaries.

But tonight you don't.

Maybe it's because you had two heavy-handed pours of your favorite wine with dinner. Maybe it was seeing him with your kids again. Maybe it had just been too long since you'd felt anything other than a cheap bullet vibrator.

So you let him slip his hand down your panties.

But it's a bit jarring to feel his wedding band still on his finger.

You look down at his hand for a beat when you feel it.

You look back up and place your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him in and crashing your lips together.

John wastes no time in laying you back on your bed and tugging your shorts and panties off, tossing them somewhere behind him.

His lips are on your neck, his hands spreading your soft thighs apart. You can smell the musky scent of himself on him, mixed with that familiar cologne of his, and you breathe a sigh.

“Take this off f’r me.” He mumbles against your skin, sliding your his hoodie up your body.

Your body aches for this to continue, and John doesn't plan to disappoint, but he takes a moment to admire what's sprawled out in front of him. He lets out a satisfied smirk as he pulls you closer by your thighs. He's undone his belt and shrugged out of his jeans in no time.

You pull his shirt off over his head before you close your eyes and tilt your head to give him easier access to kiss your neck.

His scruffy beard tickles your neck, his calloused hands gripping your thigh and rubbing your slick, dripping pussy.

“So needy.” John observed as your back arched and your body squirmed at his touch. "Poor thing... No one's been keepin’ you satisfied, hm?”

You shake your head a bit. You hate that he’s right. You hate that he can tell. That he knows you too well.

But he’s right; no random Tinder hookup and no blind date that your friends have set you up with could ever compare to your ex husband.

“Should’a told me...” He murmurs as he leans lower, positioning his head in between your thighs, pressing desperate kisses to your aching clit.

He’s got you figured out completely. He’s always been good at that.

A smile forms as his hands move to grip your thighs. He lets out a quiet groan as your legs instinctively clamp around his head. The look of his veiny hands gripping your plushy thighs with that damn wedding band still around his finger is doing things to you.

His tongue slowly plays in circular motions, teasing you, loving the game. He takes his time, enjoying himself, as you continue to squeeze your thighs against his head. Hell, he’d let you suffocate him if it meant he could eat your pussy this one last time.

You try not to, but you let out a desperate moan of pleasure. He knew exactly what you like, exactly where to lick, exactly where to kiss, exactly where to nibble.

Damn him.

“You sound s’pretty, lovey. S’pretty f’r me.” He pants, his praise ending with a whimper.

Your eyes roll back. Fuck, he has you. He knows he has you. Your moans and whimpers are uncontrollable as he picks up the pace, all but slamming his thick cock into your pretty little hole.

You’re his, and he knows it, and in the moment, it’s true. Just him. Just you. The rest doesn’t matter right now.

John pulls out for just a moment while he swiftly flips you over, roughly gripping your hips and pulling your backside into him. He’s got the angle just right now, and your breath catches in your throat, followed by a needy whimper.

“Mine… All mine… Isn’t that right?” He whispers, more of a command than a question.

Your face is pressed against the mattress as John’s grip on your hips tighten. This angle, this position, John is so familiar with it. He knows what it does to you. He knows the way it makes you respond.

John lets out a loud groan as your whimpers and moans get more needy, desperate. He knows that you’re about to come.

He finishes right then and there, along with you.

You gasp a bit, surprised by the synchronization. Should you really be surprised, though? Only he would know your body like that. You’re his. He’s yours.

John slowly pulls his softening cock out of you, lying on the bed and pulling you into his chest. His hand grabs your thigh, draping your leg around his waist in an attempt to hold you closer.

He lets out a few deep breaths, letting the adrenaline and endorphins just fade away. Neither of you wants to move right now, both just content being in each other’s arms. Both content feeling the heat of each other’s bodies, just listening to each other breathing.

“Better than I remembered it.” John murmurs, his voice laced with a smirk.

You catch John’s left hand after he reached up to push your sweaty hair from your forehead. You hold it in yours, playing a bit with the wedding band.

next >>

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natsswife · 7 days ago

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dating nat hcs!! (pre crash tl)

cw: brief cigs n drugs mention, fluffy

notes: kinda self indulgent in the cigs n drugs part cuz i dont do any of those and i know nat wont do it around you<33 also i wanna write something inspired in california from chappell but idk what plot or what to write ksolcisafujkfjkdjfjm HELP

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆˚

༘⋆ i def see nat as the one who fell first and harder, always being the tough one, but under all that she had a soft spot for you

༘⋆ type of girlfriend who LOVES being taken care of, inside door, in the privacy of your rooms there's nothing she loves more than you playing with her hair<33

༘⋆ she is def touch starved, not having a good relation with her mom, everything that happened with that dickhead of a dad made her build a cold shell to avoid getting hurt all over again, but everything changed when you came to her life, first as a friend and now as her secret lover<3

༘⋆ thats why she loves when came with whatever that involves you taking care of her, wanna paint her nails and do a whole manicure un her? hell yeah, wanna try your hair stylist skills on her which means she will get you playing and messing with her hairs for a good hour? she’s all in, you read in one of your moms magazines a little tutorial on how to make back massages like a professional? she will gladly be ur guinea pig, especially because this kind of massages always ends up in a hot make out session<3

༘⋆ loves complimenting you after a match, doesnt matter if u didnt try hard enough just know nat will be there telling you how good you did in this one, she never got someone being all proud for her and knows how it feels, so if theres an opportunity she will let her inner cheerleader out just for you

༘⋆ fast makeout sessions in the locker room after a match, cuz the adrenaline and her being all sweaty, with a messy ponytail, manspreading in the bleachers while drinking water does wonders inside you!!

༘⋆ loves taking you out either for eat or to some parties, will save enough money for it because you’re not paying anything on her watch!! ofc if she sees that u start to get annoyed because you want to invite her she wont stop you! anything but see you angry because that would ruin her night

༘⋆ if you’re not into cigs (and drugs) Nat would do her best to not do it in front of you, she can't promise that she will stop it for good because at the end they’re are a little escape of her reality at home, but if she knows it makes you uncomfy she’ll try her best<3

༘⋆ loves when your invite her over to sleep, you know about her situation and the less she spends at home the better, so sleepovers that turns into horror movies night and being awake till 4 a.m arent uncommon, because for nat you are her favorite person, and a night with you with means a lot of heal for her heart

༘⋆ in your anniversaries she’ll gift you anything you want, no matter how dumb ur request is, your wish is her command. got problems with some maths exercises and the due date is near? no problem! nat is there to ask the smart person of the class (more like force them) to do it for u, she will pay for it (gives them a price n they have to run with it cuz either way there will be problems)

༘⋆ and last but not least, will always reassure you that she's there for you, no matter how rough things get Nat is there to help you with anything, and won't let you make stupid decisions, because if there’s something that hurts her more than anything is seeing you feeling trapped and would do anything to brush that feeling away, because only Nat knows how many times you’ve been there for her, when her mom, when her dad, when life gave her the worst time and you’ve been there to wipe her tears, and the least she can do is do the same for you<3

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆˚

Do not translate w/o permission, copy or use for ai training, train your useless brain instead<3

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets fic #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x fem reader #yellowjackets x fem!reader #natalie scatorccio #natalie scatorccio x reader #natalie scatorccio x fem reader #natalie scatorccio x you #natalie scatorccio x fem!reader #natalie yellowjackets #nat scatorccio #yellowjackets s3 #sophie thatcher #sophie thatcher x reader #sophie thatcher x fem!reader #sophie thatcher x fem reader #sophie thatcher x you

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bt-writing · 7 months ago

Text

Mr. Crawling x Reader

A/N: chat i wrote my first NSFW. i have absolutely ADORED playing Homicipher this last week or so and i had to write something good for my man🙏🙏 this piece is based off of Ending 17 where he saves you from Mr. Stitch, i hope you enjoy!! (also, yes, the monster tongue is minecraft enchantment table lololol). AFAB reader, NSFW ending available on my ao3 linked at the end.

Word Count: 7.2k

Needy with Worry

***

Nearly every wall in this god-forsaken realm seemed to drip with the same mysterious, wet substance. It pooled within the valleys of the steel floor plates that lined the walkways and cultivated mold along the cove joints in offshoot rooms. No surface inside this liminal hell-hole was spared from the viscous liquid's presence. It was a sensory nightmare to look at, let alone touch. You wondered how Mr. Crawling dealt with his clothes trailing through it constantly without begging The Bride for a change.

The floor-bound specter in question blissfully followed behind you as you traversed the monster world's boundless hallways, oblivious to any discomfort that his soiled yukata might bring him.

"Your clothes," you pointed down at the man's black garment. "Water ruin. You dislike?" You tried, conveying your concern as best as you could in monster tongue.

"No ruin. Clothes good. A lot of water ruin time," Mr. Crawling replied with a stretched grin. It seems he'd gotten used to the fabric having a soaked trim all the time. The thought of it alone made you long for your bed in the overworld, warmly clad in fuzzy pajamas and safe from any cold, mystery liquid sticking to your body.

You found yourself extending your hand to pat Mr. Crawling's head fondly.

"If we ever get out of here, I'll teach you what socks are," you said wistfully.

He tilted his head curiously, not fully understanding your words. You dismissed his confusion with a brief wave and continued your trek down the dimly lit pathway.

There were a lot of things you had come to miss from the human world. Things you had taken for granted, like safety and comfort and food. God, what you wouldn't give for a hot meal. For every moment you spent lost in the underworld, the duller the pangs of hunger had grown. It was just as Mr. Silvair had hypothesized. The longer you stay in this foreign place, the more your body will change. But, even if you were losing your biological need to eat, the thought of some shitty fast food right now made your mouth water.

You'd have to teach Mr. Crawling about human food, too. The only thing you'd ever seen the man eat was ears, and you were convinced there had to be better tasting things from the human world that he could try. Surely.

Come to think of it, there were a lot of things you wanted to show Mr. Crawling from the human world. He had no reason to, and yet, ever since falling into this place, the ghostly man had made it his duty to stay by your side and protect you from the various "danger persons" lurking the underworld. He taught you his language, kept you safe, kept you happy—or as happy as the given situation allotted for. You wanted to return the favor. But, instead of showing him how to survive, you wanted to show him how to enjoy. There was so much joy to be had in the overworld. Mr. Crawling wasn't meant to stay in such a dark, violent place. He was better than the monster realm. He was kind.

Once you found that goddamn elevator again, you determined that you would bring Mr. Crawling home with you.

"Exit find, together safe place go?" you asked Mr. Crawling tentatively. You weren't sure if it was even possible for him to leave the underworld, whether he wanted to or not. But, the thought of parting from the crawling entity made your heart ache more than you cared to admit.

Your heart wasn't the only thing left aching, however, as your body collided with the hard concrete floor. Mr. Crawling hovered over you, smiling like an over-excited dog. His silky, black hair kissed your blushing cheeks as it draped down from his face.

"Me together you! Together safe place! Happy, happy!" he exclaimed. You'd never seen anyone get so excited at the prospect of simply being with you, it nearly brought tears to your eyes. You swallowed the burn in your throat with a chuckle and gently pushed the man off you.

As you neared the end of the spanning hallway, a metal door caked in rust came into view.

Finally, you thought. Even if the next room proved equally as tedious as this one had, it felt like faux progress was at least being made.

Before your hand could twist its knob, cold fingers wrapped around your ankle, bringing your movements to a halt.

"Do not. Danger." Crawling's mouth pressed into a thin line as he looked towards the door. Through the tension in the air, you noticed an eerie squelching noise coming from the other side.

But, what else could you really do? Who knows how long the two of you had been walking down this hallway, and you desperately wanted not to give up and turn back. There was nowhere else to go but forwards.

You gave Mr. Crawling a look that conveyed there was regretfully no other choice. Taking a deep breath, you prepared yourself for whatever laid ahead.

The first thing you noticed after entering through the door was the horrible stench. The overwhelming smell of blood and iron weighed heavy in your lungs as goose bumps raced across your skin. It wasn't a smell unfamiliar to the underworld, but nowhere else had it been so concentrated. You were hardly two full steps into the room and your determination was already wavering.

Your eyes found the source of the putrid smell inhabiting the opposite corner of the tiled room. There, someone sat hunched over, eagerly digging into what could only be described as a mass of blood, guts, and flesh on the floor. The noise they made as their hands shifted around the entrails of a mutilated carcass was nauseatingly potent, inescapable, as if it were reverberating inside your skull itself.

The person stopped their rummaging to look back at you from over their shoulder. Through the blood splattered across their face, you recognized them to be the resident you'd dubbed 'Mr. Stitch'. Every encounter with Mr. Stitch thus far had proven to be unsettling; he was certainly a monster you didn't want to stumble across whilst exploring alone. The patch-work man didn't seem to share your apprehensive sentiments whatsoever and quickly sprang up to his feet.

"Hello!" Mr. Stitch greeted enthusiastically, fresh blood and unidentifiable chunks of meat dripping from his lips. "You again! Glad!"

You noticed he had gained a new article of clothing since you last saw him wallowing about in boredom. It was a fur lined jacket, the color indecipherable underneath a wet layer of blood. As your eyes fell to the corpse on the ground, your stomach dropped in grim realization. Your meeting with the other human was brief, yet, there was an undeniable comfort in knowing someone else from the overworld shared your experience in this nightmare. Now, they were torn to unrecognizable shreds before you.

"Human," was all you could manage to squeak out as terror gripped your entirety.

Mr. Stitch pulled on the edges of his new coat proudly and nodded, "Me find they. Play together. ʖᒷᔑℸ. Take this!"

You didn't need to understand his words to piece together what had happened in this room. A sense of urgency rapidly overtook your being. The exit was currently being blocked by the murder scene and its perpetrator. Was Mr. Stitch satisfied with his kill? Would he simply let you pass, just as he'd done the other times?

Your answer came as he wiped his mouth with the back of his discolored hand and stepped towards you and Mr. Crawling.

"You play together me?"

His smile was a sickening void that threatened to swallow you whole. This monster was obviously still riding the high from his recent kill, and your frightened expression must have been like dope for him.

"No play together," you softly shook your head, trying not to convey more fear than you already let on. Mr. Stitch's smile fell for a moment, disappointment washing over his face, before it returned in full force accompanied by a whisper:

"Too bad."

A scream came from your throat as bony fingers dug into your hips. Mr. Stitch lifted you over his shoulder with paranormal ease and, leaving you no time to process the turn of events, sprinted towards the exit.

"You! Don't! Don't!"

You could barely hear Mr. Crawling cry out after you. The sound of Stitch's feet pounding the pavement bounced off the walls. Your vision shook with each step. Using one hand, you used your kidnapper's shoulder to stabilize yourself, and with the other hand began to beat against his back as hard as you could. He let out a gleeful chuckle at your feeble attempt to fight back.

"Fun, fun! They come?" Mr. Stitch laughed, momentarily glancing backwards.

You looked up as well. In the distant shadows, you could make out a visibly distraught Mr. Crawling rounding the corner on his hands and knees. You were scared, but the sight of your companion hot on your captor's heels was reassuring. He'd never let you be separated from him willingly, he'd proven that many times before.

Before you could call out to Crawling, Mr. Stitch ducked into a nearby room and slammed the door behind him. The air was expelled from your lungs as he tossed you carelessly onto the floor. While Stitch fiddled with the lock, you took a moment to observe your surroundings. The room had the same solemn emptiness of a hospital's sleeping quarters. There was a single mattress that rested on a shaky bed frame. More noticeable was the large, dirty window that peered into the hallway you had just been carried down.

You heard frantic rattling coming from the locked door Mr. Stitch held shut. It persisted for a few moments before it went completely silent. An anxious knot built in your stomach as Stitch slowly backed away, confident the door would hold against Mr. Crawling's efforts on its own.

THUD. THUD THUD THUD.

Startled, your neck snapped to the window, where Mr. Crawling was rapidly beating on the pane of glass separating you from him. His pale grey lips were turned into an angry frown.

You failed to notice Mr. Stitch moving back towards you. A yelp escaped your lips as he harshly gripped your nape, picking you up off the floor and slamming your head against the window.

"Stop! Don't!"

You could barely hear Crawling's muffled plea through the ringing in your ears. The impact left you disoriented. A lopsided grin befell Stitch's messy face.

"They angry! Me take you, they angry!" he cackled in amusement, pressing a red fingertip against the glass to point and laugh at the poor man.

"Let me go, asshole," you growled out, struggling against the hand that dug into your neck.

Your aggressive tone only served to spur on the otherworldly monster. Mr. Stitch pushed his lean body flush against your back, squeezing your torso between himself and the cold glass that separated you from Mr. Crawling. The hand that held your head in place slowly brought its calloused fingers to cup your jaw. A horrible spark of vulnerability shot down your spine as your neck was exposed. At the same time, Stitch tilted your hips back and trailed his fingers across your abdomen in a taunting motion.

"Touch you, they dislike," his hot breath whispered into your ear. Even if you couldn't see his face, a cheshire grin was audible in his words. "Fun."

Mr. Stitch held your face at an odd angle. Looking down as much as you could, the sight on the other side of the glass made your heart skip a beat.

Mr. Crawling had stopped banging on the transparent barrier and instead, with large palms pressed flat against the panel, stared directly at Stitch, who was enjoying every single moment of his distress.

You gasped in discomfort. A wet tongue dragged itself from your ear lobe and down your jaw, lapping up any bead of fear-laced sweat it could find until stopping in the dip of your collarbone. The feeling of the monster's slimy tongue against your skin was vile; any effort to escape his touch was met with a harsh shove against the window.

"G-ah!" you cried out in pain.

Stitch's sharp teeth dug into the crook of your neck violently. Thick ripples of blood poured out from the canine indents below your throat. Your neck throbbed with hot pain. This bastard had actually bit you.

With an excited ferocity, that hungry tongue was right back against your flesh, his choppy pink hair tickling your jawline as he drank from the wound he created.

"Want consume human," he purred in desire.

Your stomach dropped, and before he could bite down again, an ear-piercing crack! came from the entrance of the room. Lost in his feeding frenzy against your neck, neither of you noticed Mr. Crawling had resumed his assault against the door—which, this time was so powerful it had splintered the door nearly in two.

"ᓭ⍑╎ℸ !" Stitch yelled in surprise. He clearly had gotten so lost in the taste of your blood that he'd forgotten to pay attention to your very angry guardian.

Cr-ack! A wooden plank flew off the door.

And back over Mr. Stitch's shoulder you went. With long strides, he bounded out of the room through the door that wasn't half wood chips and sprinted down a musty, brick-lined hallway.

The adrenaline rush was audible in his half-gasp, half-laughs as he turned down another corner in the dimly lit corridor. Stitch slowed his pace and looked back expectantly to see if the black-clad resident was still coming. He actually wanted Mr. Crawling to keep chasing him.

Coarse shuffling could be heard in the darkness. Both you and Mr. Stitch were stuck in place at the sight of Mr. Crawling, who was no longer crawling, but standing so tall he had to tilt his head so as to not hit the ceiling. His giant figure swayed slightly as he took a few slow steps towards you.

"You don't."

There was a silent fury in his smile that made even you scared, though you knew the man would never direct his anger at you. When you first met Mr. Crawling, it was true that he frightened you. The way he crawled along the ground was a bit uncanny, and the bloody stains where eyes should be was something you'd find straight out of a horror movie—hell, that went for this entire place—but the way he stood before you now was a different kind of terrifying. His presence alone felt inescapable and threatening-

That's it. He's trying to intimidate Mr. Stitch by standing upright.

"They stand! They angry!" cheered your tormenter.

Stitch was significantly smaller than Mr. Crawling, but much more agile. Crawling had told you before that he preferred not to walk. Maybe it's because he's not good at walking? His steps were slow and steady, but he was probably putting all his effort into the small movement. You couldn't really imagine the man running.

On the other hand, Mr. Stitch had turned tail and hauled you down the hallway and into a new room once again.

"Under sheet, go."

On the back end of the room was a long, white curtain that he pulled shut, concealing the two of you at a glance. Your heartbeat drummed softly in your ears, anticipating Mr. Crawling to burst into the room like your knight in shining armor and save you from the man who was itching to eat you alive. But Mr. Crawling never came.

"He not want?" Mr. Stitch pondered, looking back and forth between the slit in the curtain and your anxious face beside him. He finally settled on watching you. "Me take you, he dislike. Why?" he asked curiously.

His blue eye stared intensely into your own, as if they held the answer as to why Mr. Crawling wanted you back so desperately. You shifted uncomfortably beneath his gaze, which only caused him move in closer, like a predator stalking his prey, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Mr. Stitch's hips hovered above your own, his hands straddling your sides. You leaned your head back as far as you could manage in a pathetic attempt to distance yourself from him, but the compromising position on the floor made it difficult to do so. A devious smile stretched over his face.

"They like you?"

A soft blush painted your cheeks. Mr. Crawling had said many times before that he 'like you' and 'want together you,' but you had never really interpreted it as anything but innocent, the same way a dog would enjoy your company and want to stay by your side. At least, that was what you had kept telling yourself, that Mr. Crawling craved your companionship and not you in particular. Lately however, you weren't entirely sure. Several times had the man gone out of his way to protect you, always making sure to ask 'are you okay?' and 'hurt exist?' in the aftermath of danger. And, as much as you hated to admit it, his concern for you gave you butterflies. The way his cold hands would run through your hair to comfort you, or how he would cover your body with his much larger one to shield you from the more dangerous residents of the underworld, it always left you with a warm, tingly feeling. You chewed your lip softly.

"They like me," you affirmed. Stitch's eyes lit up with this information, filling you with dread.

"I see. They like you. They dislike you gone," he brought his hand to trace dangerously along your throat. You clenched your teeth. "You die, they dislike. They upset, they angry!"

Woosh.

"S-stop!"

Cr-unch.

You sat in shock. You had fully expected Mr. Stitch's hand to wrap around your throat and slowly squeeze the life out of you. Instead, weight was quickly thrown off your body when a grey hand shot through the curtain and pulled him away. A splatter of blood followed his cry for mercy and tainted the virgin white curtains separating you from what was most likely Mr. Stitch's obliterated corpse.

Your breath caught in your throat as that same hand gripped the stained sheet and pulled it open.

Mr. Crawling!

His hands were warm and wet as they cupped your face gently, but you didn't care one bit. It felt so good to be back in his arms.

"Are you okay? You hurt?" he asked, inspecting every inch of your face meticulously. One hand left your cheek and delicately hovered over the bloody bite mark above your collarbone. It still hurt quite a bit, but you figured the adrenaline was working to mask most of the pain.

"Please don't worry. Me good," you spoke just above a whisper, returning his gesture and cupping his face in your shaky hands.

Mr. Crawling let a deep sigh slip past his frowning lips before he grabbed your hips and pulled you closer, resting his head on your non-injured shoulder.

"They take you. Me surprised," he held you tighter, "they hurt you, me angry."

He really knew how to make your heart flutter without even meaning to.

"I'm okay, really. Don't worry," you knew he couldn't understand what you were saying, but you were too exhausted to care at the moment. "Thank you," you said, wrapping your arms around him.

"Me protect you. You don't go again. Together."

You could tell the whole affair had really shaken the sweet man up quite a bit. He hated to be apart from you. He probably felt helpless watching Stitch hurt you and not being able to stop it. You stroked his hair in a sympathetic motion.

"There, there. Me nice resident go. They heal me," you reassured. After some time, your body typically healed pretty quickly on its own in the monster world, but you figured going to see Mr. Silvair about your injury couldn't hurt, and maybe it would put Mr. Crawling at ease, too.

He sat still for a second before slowly nodding his head against your shoulder. You smiled to yourself at his childlike behavior. It felt nice to hold each other like this.

Did... did you like Mr. Crawling?

You sat still, taking in the way his nose dug into your collarbone, his soft breaths tickling your skin as he exhaled. He fit so naturally against you. His huge palms rested against the curves and dips of your back in a way that made you feel small, but safe. Your face felt warm.

Shit.

. . . .

It didn't take long for the two of you to find your way back to Mr. Silvair's territory.

Mr. Chopped greeted you with his usual chipper 'hello!' but quickly squinted his eyes, hiding from the sight of blood running down your neck with a 'blood! scared, scared'!

Hearing the commotion that Mr. Chopped was causing, Mr. Silvair peeked his head out of his room with his ever-present eerie smile. You gave him a sheepish wave and pointed to your wound.

"Me hurt. You fix? Heal?" you asked.

The lanky, silver haired man nodded, happy with any opportunity to 'fix,' as he loved to do.

"Me fix. There, wait," he said, pointing a thin finger towards the bed against the wall, and disappeared back into his private room.

You sat down just as Silvair ordered, and Mr. Crawling took his place dutifully besides you. You had a feeling he'd be more clingy than usual for some time. Which was a scary thought; he was pretty needy to begin with. But truthfully, you didn't mind his desire for attention. You enjoyed feeling needed by someone.

A few minutes later, Mr. Silvair emerged with a tray of tools and got to work mending your laceration. You grimaced in pain as he poured a cool liquid over it—some sort of disinfecting agent, you assumed.

Mr. Crawling, noticing your discomfort, grabbed your forearm and held it tightly.

"Are you okay? Want stop?" He asked with concern.

"Me good. They help," you reassured. Though, you knew from experience that the rest of the process wouldn't exactly be pain free. Mr. Silvair had tended to your injuries many times before. Truthfully, you were lucky he was one of the good residents. Between teaching you the monster tongue when you first came to the underworld and healing your body anytime you found yourself hurt, Mr. Silvair was a pretty dependable entity to have on your side.

Mr. Crawling lowered himself back down begrudgingly while Silvair continued his ministrations. After a few stitches, ointment, and some bandages, you were all fixed up and approved to go. After thanking him and waving Mr. Chopped goodbye, you and Crawling made your way back to the room you had unofficially deemed as yours.

The second your head made contact with the stiff mattress, the full weight of your exhaustion hit you in full. It had been a long day, and now that all of the adrenaline from earlier had left your body, you could feel yourself crashing.

You heard rustling next to the bed and glanced down. Mr. Crawling sat watchfully, ready to defend you from any resident that dared disturb your sleep. You smiled and patted his head gratefully, feeling safe under his guard. And with that, you let sleep take over.

. . . .

ao3 for NSFW ending ;)

#homicipher #homicipher x reader #homicipher/reader #x reader #reader insert #mr. crawling #mr. crawling x reader #my writing #fanfiction #mr. crawling/reader #mr crawling

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