#warwick x reader

[immortalbumblebee]

Chapter 18: Wiping Away the Rust

Hey Vander fans...how we doin'...

Guess who's back from hiatus, Loves? I've missed you all so much.

Masterlist

Benzo stared down at the books in front of him, filled with numbers and notes about expenses, loans, pay rates. But this morning, the numbers were all meaningless to the businessman. His eyes frustratingly refused to focus on a single line of calculations. His mind discarded every number as soon as he glanced at it. Still, he sat there, at the dining table of his childhood home, absently fiddling with a simple green box. Every so often, a soft note played from the music box as he moved it too quickly. 

The item reminded him of the young girl who had repaired it all those years ago; her dorky accent, overly friendly demeanor, and habit for stalking him through the markets. 

“Working hard or hardly working?” A gravelly voice broke through the silence as Mikael’s entrance announced itself with the creak of floorboards. The strain of his wheelchair wheels against the wood signaled his approach. Mikael’s older, kinder eyes met Benzo’s tired ones, instantly recognizing that his adopted son had gotten little to no sleep.

“Pa!” Benzo exclaimed, startled by the sudden presence. “I thought you wouldn’t be awake for a while yet.” 

“Couldn’t sleep with all the excitement earlier.” Mikael sniffed, rolling himself toward the kitchen. He opened the old icebox. “Not every night you get woken in the middle of the night to hear your daughter’s been arrested for... what was it again?”

 “Almost killing an Enforcer.” Benzo replied. Mikael hummed, eyes scanning over their modest food contents. 

“Ah, right. That.” He paused. “You want any of this leftover stew?” Just as he finished speaking, a loud, wet cough racked his body.

“You shouldn’t be cooking by yourself, Dad,” Benzo reminded him, standing to help, but Mikael stubbornly waved him off.

“I’m warming up leftovers, that’s barely cooking. I’m not that useless.”  Mikael shrugged, grabbing the stew and wheeling himself over to the hot plate. With his back to Benzo, he shifted the conversation. “Any news?”

Benzo sighed, rubbing a tired hand through his short brown hair. “Nah. Not yet.”

“And the boys?”

“They went to calm the crowds.” Benzo rubbed his nose.

Mikael hummed. “Anyone seriously hurt?”

Benzo shook his head. “A couple of scrapes and bruises. Just a lot of scared people hellbent on storming the bridge.”

Mikael’s cough interrupted the moment. “Can’t say I’m surprised. Why aren’t you with them?”

Benzo stared at the music box in his hands, and the toothy grin of the young girl flashed in his mind again. “Someone has to be here when she gets back.”

Mikael’s old, knowing eyes watched his adopted son silently, before emitting a simple ‘hmph’. 

The silence stretched between them until the door creaked open. You walked in, worn down, clearly sleep-deprived since before the fight. Your hair was a mess, dark circles under your eyes, and a bruised, possibly broken nose. Benzo didn’t waste a second. He slammed the music box on the table and rushed forward, enveloping you in his stocky arms. You stumbled slightly from the force of the hug, but quickly found your place in his embrace.

“You look like shit right now.” He mumbled into your shoulder as he clung into the embrace.

You snorted in laughter, wincing in pain at the motion. “As opposed to you, who always looks like shit.” 

Behind you, your mother walked in, still in her coat and sleeping garments, followed by a tired-looking Niya. As you parted from Benzo, he turned his attention to the young journalist and you made your way over to Mikael.

“Thank you, pet,” he said earnestly. “Seriously.”

Niya ran a hand through her coral-colored hair and sighed. “Anytime... though I’ll say, I’m not sure how much leverage I have if this keeps up. A full riot squad for one arrest? What the hell, Benz?”

“That’s what I’ve been sayin’ this whole time, girly! Happens when y’go about makin’ trouble for y’eself,” your mother chimed in, clearly unimpressed. She threw her coat onto a nearby chair. “What were you thinkin’, Minerva? Killin’ a copper?” 

You, still clinging to Mikael, leaned down to wrap your arms around him. His hand, thin and shaky, gently pet your hair. “I didn’t kill him, Mom,” you sighed, pulling away from the embrace. “He got too close during a trader job, so I stabbed him and knocked him out. Basic protocol, I just... got a little sloppy.”

“How’d they pin you?” Benzo asked, eyebrow raised..

“My damn bandana,” you groaned. “Left it with the body to stop him from bleeding out, like an idiot.”

Mikael, finally speaking up, let out a wheezy laugh. “Yeah Min, next time just leave the topsider for dead.” 

“That’s not funny, Mik!” Your mother exclaimed, voice shrill. 

“Wasn’t joking,” Mikael mumbled, clearly too soft for your mom to hear.

Benzo, sighing, turned back to Niya and pulled out his coin purse, handing over a handful of coins. “For the trouble.” But Niya just shook her head, smiling slightly.

“Keep your money.” She jabbed a painted nail into his chest. “You definitely owe me dinner, though. Somewhere nice.”

Benzo smiled back. “You got it, Pet.” With a wink and a perky smile, she wished you and your mother goodnight before leaving. Benzo shut the thick wooden door behind her, then turned back to face you. You were still with Mikael, your hand resting on his shoulder as his covered yours. He spoke softly to you, his gaze sweeping over your injuries, but the words were too quiet to overhear. Finally, you met Benzo’s eyes.

“Where’s Vander and Silco?”

“Out, they should be back soon.” He explains, then motions to your injuries. “Need help with those?”

You nodded, grateful, and made your way to the table as Benzo grabbed a first aid kit. “That, and a stiff drink. Immediately,” you muttered, and your brother was happy to oblige. Your mother kissed your forehead before heading back upstairs, giving you one last, strict talking-to before retreating to her room. Mikael stayed behind, finishing his stew as he chatted with you and Benzo while he patched you up. The worst of your injuries was your nose, already crooked and now more bent than ever, the skin torn open. Another scar to add to the collection.

Benzo was just finishing with the plaster on your nose when the door suddenly burst open. Vander and Silco stumbled inside, panting heavily.

“Minnie!” Vander exclaimed, rushing over to you and pulling you into a crushing hug. You flinched, feeling the pain in your bones, but melted into his warmth. His scent overwhelmed you, and you finally allowed yourself to relax. Amongst all of this, the panic and the uncertainty, you hadn’t even considered crying, too worried about putting on a brave face. But there, in his arms, you were surprised to feel tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. You buried your face in his chest, pressing your nails into his jacket as you clung to him.

“Are you okay?” Silco’s voice cut through the moment, and you felt his familiar bony hand gently on your back.

You nodded, unwilling to let go of Vander. “A little banged up, but I’ll recover.”

Benzo spoke up. “Looks to me like Sevika did more to her than Grayson did.”

Vander pulled back, bending down to meet your eye level, hands cupping your face as he looked you over. You held his hands, brushing your thumb over his knuckles, trying to blink back the tears that were still threatening to fall. His expression was full of worry—creased brow, cloudy eyes tracing over every inch of you. You squeezed his hands gently.

Vander shook his head, scowling. “Next time I see one of those Goddamned bucket-heads…”

“I’m fine, really,” you reassured him, trying to pull yourself together. “They barely laid a hand on me. Just locked me up and tried to interrogate me.”

“What did you tell them?” Silco asked, his brow furrowed.

You shook your head. “You think I’m that easy to crack? They don’t know shit.”

“Well, clearly they know something, if they’re willing to make that big of a spectacle over one arrest,” Silco motions, and you rehash the bandana situation.

Mikael sighs, shaking his head as he spoons another bite of soup. “Not your brightest moment, Sweetheart.”

You throw your hands in the air. “How was I supposed to know they’d be able to tie a damned bit of fabric back to me?”

“Clearly, they’re getting smarter.” Silco nodded, tightening his ponytail. “They even knew to tie your hands up so you couldn’t use your magic.”

“Speaking of which,” Benzo cut back in front of you, holding out a hand towards yours, “your wrists looked pretty gnarled up there, hand ‘em here.” 

Vander seems stubborn to not let go of you, but after looking to see the damage that the restraints had done to your wrists, he relented. He took your hands gently, pressing a kiss to each wrist. Benzo rolled his eyes. “Yes, I know, you love each other very much. Now let’s make sure she doesn’t get infected!”

Vander moved aside, sliding in behind you and placing a protective hand on your back. “Well, we were right about them knowing about the fighting ring.” You huff, flinching as Benzo begins applying vodka to your bloodied wrists.

Benzo nods, eyes focused on the first aid care. “Probably best to shut things down, right? At least till things blow over?”

“What?” Vander cried, appalled by the suggestion. “No way! It’s our best source of money, and we need it now more than ever.”

“Not to mention the emotional factor.” Silco hums, clearly pondering. “In my experience, if you take away people’s emotional release, they get…antsy.”

You shake your head. “No way, it’s way too dangerous! If they know where to monitor people, our schedules, what’s stopping what happened tonight, happening again?” 

“...Nope, I don’t like it.” Silco snarls, his voice hardening. “Feels too much like letting them win. Why should we bend down to them, let them change our way of life?” He looks to Vander for support.

“Exactly!” Vander says, pointing to Silco. “Fights stay open, we’ll just…increase security, or something!” 

You and Benzo exchange a glance, but decide to let the topic pass. They were the bosses, after all.

"So, what’s the plan then?" You ask, trying to shift the focus. “I can’t imagine people are happy right now, what did you tell ‘em?”

Silco sighs, leaning against a nearby wall, his hands casually slipping into his pockets. “Primarily just to go home for the night and lock their doors. But you’re right. People are out for blood.”

“As they should be!” Vander exclaims, making you flinch at the volume. “You ask me, if people are itching to cross that bridge, I say why not let them?”

"As I’ve already said, that’s idiotic," Silco mutters, pulling out a small notebook from his blazer pocket. "Even with every firearm and able body we have, we’ll still be outgunned by an army of Enforcers. But if we ramp up covert ops, implement more spy channels..."

“Takes too long!” Vander scoffs. “Any Zaunite is worth ten of them. We could win!”

"If we're not smart about it, we’ll lose. And I’m not risking that kind of humiliation." Silco’s tone is sharp, his resolve clear.

"People are looking to us, Silco!" Vander counters, his frustration growing. "What are we supposed to do, just sit back and do nothing? They came onto our turf and made it personal, so why not even the score?"

A heavy silence fills the room, thick with tension. Silco and Vander stand opposite each other, seething with unspoken anger. You and Benzo watch, heads shifting from Vander to Silco and back again. You can feel Vander’s hand on your back tensing, itching to ball into a fist, and Silco’s jaw tightening. Then, Mikael speaks up.

“Well, one thing is for sure,” he says as he turns to put his bowl in the sink. "None of you can do anything before you present yourselves as a united front. If people are looking to you, they need to know they’re being led by a capable team—one that knows what they’re doing. Not a bunch of stubborn teenagers running out to get people killed at the first call for violence."

“Pa-”

“Yes, I know. This is your rebellion, and I’m just a broken old man, what do I know?” Mikael begins to roll his wheelchair around you all and towards the door. "But you need to think about the real implications of your actions. Say this goes well, and your ‘Zaun’ becomes a reality. What kind of nation do you want to run? What kind of leaders do you want to be? If these people are willing to follow you into battle, it seems to me like you should be prepared and have a solid plan of attack."

Before exiting, he turns, looking at each of you over his shoulder. "Goodnight, my children.” And then he’s gone, leaving a heavy silence in his wake.

After a long moment, Silco and Vander finally meet each other's gaze again.

"Spread the word to lay low until we come up with something?" Silco asks, his voice quieter, more contemplative.

"Get your spies together and work out potential battlefield strategies?" Vander adds, and Silco nods in agreement.

"Sounds like a plan. Benzo, would you mind seeing what you can do about additional firearm shipments?"

“I’ll get right on it.” Benzo nods, finishing placing bandages around your wrists. 

"Min, any knowledge from that big fancy factory you’re working at could come in real handy right about now," Vander adds, and you nod, testing your wrist movements carefully.

“If I’ve still got that job after tonight, you’ve got it.” You nod, giving a small smile. “And I’ll look into upgrading whatever weapons we’ve got on hand. What do we do about patrols?”

“Double people up whenever they’re out late. Nobody should be doing patrols alone right now.” Silco nods, putting his notebook back into his pocket.

“You’ve got it.”

Benzo tidies up the first aid supplies, before rubbing his face in exhaustion. “I’ll be honest, boys. Benzo begins tidying up the first aid supplies, rubbing his face in exhaustion. "I’ll be honest, boys, I’m not making it home without passing out on the street. Think I’ll sleep here for whatever is left of tonight.”

“Not the worst idea you’ve had," Silco sighs, blinking hard. The dark bags under his eyes are more pronounced than usual, his appearance showing signs of wear. "I’ll take the couch if you’re okay with taking our old room.”

“I am in desperate need of a shower.” You hop off the table, gesturing to the fact that you were still clothed in nothing but your fighting gear. “I’m heading home. See you guys in the morning?”

Vander takes off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders. It’s large enough to probably fit two of you. "I’ll go with you. Like Silco said, nobody should be out alone at night." 

“Oh yeah, that’s the only reason.” Benzo chuckles, heading towards the stairs. “You guys get home safe. How abouts we all meet at the pub tomorrow after work?”

“Sounds amazing.” You agree. “Sleep well, guys.”

“You too.” Silco nods. “And Min?”

“Yeah?”

“...We’re happy you’re okay.”

A smile breaks out on your tired face as Silco opens his arms towards you. You happily accept the hug, sliding your arms around his slender frame and giving him a good squeeze.

“Thanks, brother.”

[manias-wordcount]

Things that Bite at Night (Warwick)

Kinktober 2024 Day Twenty-Nine: Predator/Prey

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

You know better than to go out at night on most days.

But despite a lifetime of warnings, you couldn’t help but have a few moments where you just ignore them. Or forget. Or feel a little too brave- a little too invincible. And how could you blame yourself? You’re still young. You’re still naive enough when you try to acknowledge it. Who cares that you’ve been going to the bars long enough that nearly every bartender on this side of the river knows you by your face? Those same bartenders are twice your age and they go out at night. They make it back alive over and over and over again. So long as they don’t have any outstanding debts or look at someone the wrong way, of course. 

But you keep your nose clean. You keep your head down. You don’t have any reason to worry about disappearing late into the night. You don’t have any reason to worry about things that go bump in the night. You don’t have any reason to worry about things that bite at night either. You’re a Zaunite- born and raised. You know how to handle yourself. You know how to handle business. So why…?

Why can’t you move…?

Every part of you that is still desperate to fight is screaming at you right now. Every part of you is still afraid more than anything of pain and dying and the thing in front of you is fighting desperately to get you to move an inch- a muscle- anything. But your body feels heavy. And your mind is still in a daze. All you remember is that you were running. All you remember is that you were running so very fast.

In fact, the memory is vaguely starting to come back to you. It’s hard to recall perfectly- you must have hit your head when you fell not too long ago. You must have hit your head when were tackled. But before that, you remember that you were running between dark, damp alleyways- trying to make it back to the main road. Back where there were people. Back where that thing couldn’t get to you. Not without others around to stop it. 

But that didn’t come so easily to you. Because all you could focus on was making sure that your steps were quicker and faster than the sprint of that monster behind you. Your feet ached and ached with each step. Your legs burned every time you moved them. There was a dull throb in your shoulder from the sheer number of times you accidentally threw yourself into a brick wall trying to make a quick turn even quicker. And you can’t count just how many times you’ve almost tripped and slipped over uneven streets and sidewalks that were slick and wet with a concerning mix of booze, blood, and hopefully water.

But you still tried to run. You still tried to outrun the very thing that was chasing you. You still tried to make the heavy footsteps and deep, growling sound coming from behind you disappear with just your sheer speed and wit alone. You still shouted for help and tried to throw obstacles in its way. You tried ducking down both roads that you knew and roads that you had no idea existed. You tried to backtrack. You tried to go where you thought there might be people who could help you. You tried to go where you knew there would at least be people- kind-hearted or not.

But sometime later, you found yourself on the cold, hard, uneven floor. Sometime later, you found yourself dazed and confused and in pain all over. Sometime later, you found yourself staring down the muzzle of the beast you’ve heard be called Warwick.

Any hope or bravery you once had was ripped from you in a cold, dead instant the second you were met with the massive teeth of what you could only assume to be the real, live wolf monster that haunts the streets of Zaun. When you first caught sight of the thing, all you could tell was that it was a large, dark mass of fur and glowing green chemicals. As it chased you, you caught sight of metal glints here and there. Were they armor? Were they chains? You don’t know. You may never know.

But now as you lay here- whimpering pitifully with tears slowly leaking from your eyes, you realize that you’re not too surprised that you couldn’t escape. You’re not too surprised that this is what it has come to. Because the stories you’ve heard from others were brutal. A monster that stalks the back street and will tear the limbs off of anything it comes across. Most people have been lucky so far- Warwick had a funny habit of running into a few of the nastiest drug runners and kingpins you know. But that didn’t mean that there wasn’t the occasional, seemingly innocent enough civilian found in a pool of blood with a bite taken out of their jugular. A fate that you can only imagine is about to fall upon you in just a moment.

So the only thing that fills your aching mind in that moment is fear. Fear as it growls lowly in front of you, its large paws stamping at the ground as it lurks closer. Fear as it bares its fangs at you, showcasing the very wide mouth that you will can and will snap you up in just a second. Fear as it crawls over you- toying with you like you were never a person but just their latest hunt. Fear as the only thing you start to see is dark fur and the eyes of animals filled to the brim with bloodlust. Fear as it leans in closer and closer and closer and closer to your neck and-

Licks you.

It licks you.

The realization hits you slowly. In fact, by the time your mind has stopped spinning, you found that the thing crowding above you has already licked at your neck once more. The sensation was slimy and wet and overwhelming as its long, long tongue made a show of trailing upwards around your collarbone and It did so at an agonizingly slow pace- only further contributing to the feeling of being toyed with. Like it’s trying to rile you up. Like it’s trying to taste your sweat. Like it’s trying to see if you were worth the hunt. And if you’re worth hunting again.

But either way, you can’t move. You can’t move. You just can’t. You still can’t find a chance to escape. Because its large, large claws are keeping you pinned to the ground. Because it's heavy, heavy body is keeping you from being able to push it away. Because its wet, wet nose against your skin is keeping you awake and alive yet chock-full of fear. 

Because where there’s a nose, there’s a mouth. And where’s there a mouth, there’s teeth. Teeth that you’ve stared down once before. Teeth that are currently starting to nibble at your skin. Teeth that you know are capable of doing more than just a little playbiting. Teeth that you know belong to something that isn’t just some dog but a monster fully capable of horrible, horrible things. 

But that’s what you get. That’s what you get for going out at night. That’s what you get for taking that wrong turn and walking into its territory. That’s what you get for not being fast enough. That’s what you get for not being strong enough. That’s what you get for being brave. That’s what you get or being stupid. That’s what you get for being naive. That’s what you get for going out at night. A beast. A monster. A murderer. A hunter. A wolf. And you have no one to blame but yourself.

And the sharp pair of teeth near seconds away from sinking themselves into your mouth.

[pupcor3]

I LOVE THIS ONG I KOVE IY IBEJWNSHAHSHSHAJWJEJWJWJEJXUS READ THIS IKLLLODKKAHABAHA

♰ the walls come down ༻ VANDER.*ೃ˚

✮ꜜ masterlist. ✮ꜜ buy me a ko-fi!

content warning smut ⋆ unprotected sex ⋆ monster fucking ⋆ belly bulging ⋆ creampie ⋆ overstimulation ⋆ kinda of sweet sex(?) ⋆ yet also feral sex at the same time ⋆ sappy and cut off aftercare ⋆ if i missed anything, lmk!

pairing Warwick!Vander x F!reader.

summary requested by a lovely anon; could you write a smit fic where Warwick!Vander recognises reader? wordcount 1,1k.

authors note here to remind everyone that this is a safespace! any rude comments will be deleted and blocked. don't yuck other people's yum, and if you don't like it, don't read it! <3

© 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐇𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐍𝐑. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦, 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!

you don't know how this spiralled the way it did — your back being harshly pressed against the crappy sleeping bag you had dragged into the greenhouse when Viktor let Vander sleep there — his impossibly fat cock filling you up in a way that makes you feel like you're suffocating.

low animalistic grunts and growls sound from him as he hammers his heavy hips into yours, his pace not once faltering. your eyes roll back each time you catch a glance of the clear bulge in your stomach, as your fingers press down against it occasionally Vander lets out a rough snarl. his pace only quickens at the feeling.

" Vander-! slow- " you gasp, your nails digging into his thick and hairy biceps. your finger tips occasionally reach the metal, flinching at the somehow cold metal. " oh fuck! " you cry out as the bullying of your insides causes you to tip over into what you think must be your fourth orgasm by now.

Vander growls at the feeling of your tight, hot and wet walls spasming around him once again. finally, it was enough to tip him over the edge as well — his heavy hips stilling with a brutal final thrust and what could only be described as a roar as he spills his load into you. he buries his head against your chest and you gasp at the feeling, his thick cum leaking out in obscene amounts. you could feel your belly swell with each spurt.

you lay there, occasionally spasming beneath him as you both come down from your intense highs. all you can do is look up at the glass roof, your hands still firmly holding his thick biceps as you feel him take deep and heavy breaths.

" Vander? " you quietly call out, dragging your hand to hold the back of his head.

he lets out a sound, low and rough, akin to what you could only assume to be 'five more minutes' as he nuzzles his face impossibly closer into your chest. you let out a breathy laugh, combing your fingers through the thick fur atop his head. your eyes watch the small twitches from his long ears each time your gently brush against them, mesmerised by this intensely calm version of him.

" okay, you can have five more minutes. " you quietly respond, a tired smile on your lips. Vander lets out a pleased sound and a long exhale. " you better not fall asleep on me big guy, cause i need to get us cleaned up in a minute or two. " Vander makes a displeased sound — typical Vander. even before he was changed he'd love nothing more than to stay buried inside you for as long as he possibly could.

your heart clenches at the thought, and Vander can feel the sudden change in emotion. he grumbles, slowly lifting his heavy head off your chest to look at your face. he tilts his head, a clear 'is everything okay?'. you smile, smoothing your hand down to his cheek. " i'll be okay, now that i have you back again. " you whisper.

Vander's eyes close, a low, sad sound leaving him as he leans down to press his forehead against yours. you close your eyes too, nudging your nose against his much, much larger one.

life was going to be difficult for him to adjust to again, but you think everything will be alright again now that he's here with you.

authors note y'all..... that turned out way sweeter than i intended. i wanted to go crazy with the feral fucking, but honestly i just wanna hold Warwick!Vander and tell him everything will be alright... 😭🫠 act 2 of s2 F U C K E D me U P and i'm gonna slowly heal by writing these Vander fics 😭❤️‍🩹

[bestwitchsam]

SHE IS SO BEAUTIFULLLLLLLL OMG #ArcaneAct2

[holysmokesblog]

Could it be real?

Vander x reader

Words: 0.5k

Warnings: -

Summary: You must face a fact that seems impossible, but it’s right there before your eyes—it’s just a matter of believing it.

Note: It's been over two years since the last time I posted something here. I hope you enjoy this piece, and that the translation is correct since I'm not very good at English. <3

He was there, just a few meters away, but he didn’t seem like himself. He didn’t look like him, didn’t sound like him, and didn’t even smell the same. He was simply unrecognizable.

Vi’s heavy hand rested on your shoulder, pulling you out of your thoughts. You looked at her, searching for answers, but she only stared at the massive creature lying on the ground.

“Are you sure it’s…”

“Completely.” Vi didn’t let you finish your question. She released your shoulder and approached the giant, who lay asleep a few meters away. She gently touched its back. The beast stirred uncomfortably, but upon seeing the young woman, it relaxed. “I have no doubt.”

You stepped closer, slowly, afraid your approach might alert the massive being, but it kept its back turned.

“Just look at him, and you’ll understand.”

The creature hunched over, trying to appear smaller (an impossible feat), and took a cautious step forward. You stepped back, which made him freeze in place.

Finally, the immense creature turned, and you saw him. He wasn’t how you remembered. He didn’t look like the man you’d fallen in love with in the Lanes, the one you’d shared most of your life with, built a family with. But without a doubt, it was him.

“Vander?”

Your mind raced, struggling to comprehend everything that was happening—how your husband, the man who had died years ago, was now back in a body that wasn’t his own.

You remained silent, unable to respond. Your brain kept trying to process everything, but no answer came. Vi, still enraged, was about to say something else when a loud snort stopped her.

Seeing that you wouldn’t come closer, Vi stepped in again.

“I know he looks different, but I swear, this is Vander. He remembers us.”

“How is this possible?”

“We’re not sure, but you have to trust me.”

“I searched for his body for months. I didn’t… I didn’t find anything—”

“That doesn’t matter anymore!” Vi snapped, furious. “He’s here now. We can help him; we can bring Vander back! How can you not be happy?”

The massive creature that had once been your husband took another step in your direction, but this time, you didn’t back away, so he kept advancing. Panic gripped your chest with every step he took, the fear that touching him would wake you up in your apartment, drenched in tears.

When he finally reached you, he lifted one of his enormous hands and gently brushed your cheek, wiping away the tears that had begun to stream uncontrollably.

“Is this real?” You looked into his eyes. “Please,” you begged. “I don’t want to wake up.”

Vander didn’t dare touch you again, fearing you might run away, but you couldn’t stand it any longer. You buried yourself in his chest. He hesitated for a moment but finally wrapped one massive arm around you, lowering his face to your head and inhaling deeply.

“You’re real,” you murmured through your sobs, unable to believe it.

“I’m here,” he said in a deep voice, squeezing you gently with the arm that held you close.

[slvtmeout]

Viktor from arcane got me all hot and thirsty again. Now I’ll be ovulating for next 3 weeks he’s on the screen. Bro makes me want to ride him so baddddd🙏. Id fuck him in his lab on Jayces desk nice and slow as he struggles to breath (in a good way not his usual way ;P). He would almost die from how good it feels 🎀 tho now in season 2 he lost his pp but there’s always a way yk. Since he’s a scientist and inventor I bet he would figure something out ;D I don’t mind riding his hextech dick instead of his real one 😔😁

[immortaljai]

In the middle of the night

Warwick + fem prostitute reader, eventual smut, monster fucking, female misuse, stalking, primal play animalistic characteristics. Porn w plot. Not proofread.

2.7k words (yikes)

It was cold enough for you too see your breathing in the toxic air of Zaun, the city gone crazier from years ago.  The color of blue passed as you watched many people rebel with the infamous “Jinx”. It was all just stupid you thought simply because it wasn’t any better in Zaun just more chaos to deal with. You shook your head holding your fur coat closer to you as you made hasty steps trying to escape the cold harsh air rushing to work.

 

Working as a prostitute wasn’t always on your cards, as a child you were a big dreamer only to have reality be shoved in your face, how unfair and set up the world really was- a loud groan from the ugly man you were currently giving a hand job too cut off your thoughts.

The men you served weren’t any better they were sleazy, possibly with a wife and kids but you needed food on the table, hard to obtain without a government system. Speeding your hand up you watched the mans mouth open showing his rotted teeth and sick saliva slip out as his (quite ugly) cock leaked cum. You looked at him with nothing as you got up your skimpy corset hugging your frame breast pushed up as you washed your hands a feeling of disgust crossing your face.

“Why didn’t you use your mouth?” The lowlife spoke with arrogance making you grit your teeth before closing your eyes you not wanting to lose your only source of income as you turned to him “My…deepest apologies “ you said forcefully. The man raised his eyebrows before grumbling and pulling his unclean pants up “well you’re only getting paid half” he said throwing down a few bills and coins before strutting out slamming the door behind him.

You were used to this, the mistreatment as you picked up the money sliding it into your corset, he was the last and God awful final of the night.

You now say at a statue where you usually sat after a night a sloppy greasy burger and drink you brought with the scraped up money from the night. The loud fights out of distance being heard nothing new to you. Until you heard something different something sort of a growl making you turn your head only to find nothing taking the last bite of your burger looking back down and at the stairs of the statue “Vander…” you said reading the engravings with squinted eyes “lucky bastard can’t see the hell hole has became” unknowingly being watched from a distance a small growl coming from the darkness his red eyes concealed, watching you closely as you started to get ready to leave, discarding the cup you drank out of and walking off, once out of sight he came out of the darkness it’s large frame almost larger than the statue as he looked around gruffing his ears twitching with each sound he took in, his red eyes swaying each way as be growled at the blurry statue hunched ovee walking over to the cup u drank of he sniffed it taking in your sent.

Suddenly possessive, suddenly wanting to hunt you.

Licking his sharp canines he looked in the direction you walked as his feet started to carry him in that direction before he knew it he was running.

Uhhhh new obsession.

Idk if this will be a series.

[antiqcore]

a quick before and after, after Ambessa’s lieutenant got lobotomised by Warwick ୨ৎ

[evermorewest]

WHAT⁉️ was that ending-

I'll cry tomorrow, right now I'm in shock.

Everything happened so fast😭

Edit 30 minutes later: I'm crying. The edits have me crying 💆‍♀️

[sarrsqz]

Cosmic Attachments

AHS: Murder House

Tate Langdon x Death!Reader

Mentions of Violet Harmon, Chad Warwick and Sally McKenna.

This is a combination of both Murder House and Hotel, but the large majority of it takes place in the Murder House.

In this, the reader is an ambiguous character to takes on the common Grim Reaper trope of guiding souls to the afterlife. They struggle with doing this in supernatural hotspots such as the Murder House due to the stubborn, evil and traumatized spirits that live there.

But they especially struggle with Tate Langdon, a boy who refuses to accept his hellish fate. But Death just can't seem to grapple their strange attachment with him.

Word count: 2k

If you don't want to read the Hotel section, skip to the transition symbol ┉┈◈◉◈┈���

The hallways of the Hotel Cortez were never welcoming. At least, for you they weren't. The non-human entities, most of whom contradict your existence, weren't keen on having you roam the building. You demonstrated the truth of their circumstances. The vulnerability they hid behind violence.

But you still saw it. How could you not? It's your job, after all.

The carpeted floor felt grimy, even through your shoes. The lights down the hallway flickered. You could feel a draft echoing through the unmaintained vents, or... screams?

It's difficult to tell when they all feel the same to you. A calling – more work to be done. Eventually, that is.

You heard footsteps staggering somewhere behind you. Turning your head down the dim hallway, you saw Sally stumble out of a darkened room. Her old, crimped and frizzy hair fell around her face while cigarette smoke curled around her figure.

She stopped when she saw you. She pointed at you, cigarette latched between her two fingers. "Well, look who's decided to haunt my hallways. What do you want, Grim Reaper?"

You smiled, glancing down at the patterned floor before meeting her eyes again. "You know that's not my name, Sally." The ghost in question scoffed, throwing her shoulders back to emphasize her distaste at your correction. "And it's not haunting, it's... monitoring. Making sure the lost know they have a choice."

Sally snorted, her feet dragging as she walked further down the dimly light hallway. "A choice? Please. You really think any of us would choose this damned place if we had any real options?"

You shrugged. "Some did. Some still can, if they want. It's never too late for those who haven't thrown it away." Your voice was gentle, but firm. It was a necessary precaution when speaking to spirits, especially those like Sally.

You watched Sally take a long drag of her cigarette. She had stopped walking, planting her heeled shoes into the dirty carpet. Her narrowed eyes never left yours.

Breathing out the smoke, "You mean, if they haven't been stupid enough to turn you down already." Her arm fell back down to her side, cigarette ash falling to the floor. She paid it no mind. "But we all know how that goes–regret and begging. You get off on that, don't you?"

You shook your head. "It's not about getting off on anything, Sally. It's about respect. It's about finality. I don't relish in their pain. I mourn it."

The ghost laughed bitterly. Your words, which normally cut through the fragile facades of the deceased, barely scratched her. "Well, yeah, keep your mourning to yourself. None of us are going anywhere. We're all trapped in our own hells, and nothing you say will change that."

"Perhaps. But I'll still be here, Sally. For those who might change their minds. For those who need to know that there's a way out, even if it's only once." You spoke softly, looking away from Sally for a moment. You nodded slightly, confirming your beliefs to yourself.

You need to stay in touch with your ideals. Your morals. Your job.

You saw her eyes flicker, hints of vulnerability poking through before they hardened again. "Don't waste your time." She brought the cigarette back up to her red lips but stopped before she inhaled the drugs within. "You know, instead of bargaining with the freaks here, you should really be having that talk with your boy-toy at that house."

Your face hardened whilst hers curved with humor.

She shrugged dramatically, tilting her head in the process. "Seems like you're not so good at your job after all." Her eyes widened in mockery.

"Tate's choices are his own. I can't force him to do anything." You defended your stance, shifting your body to fully face the deranged ghost. "My job doesn't circle around force. It's about accepting your situation and moving on."

"Hm. Well, good luck with that." Her eyes narrowed more, which you didn't even think was possible. "Places like this have a way of holding on to its ghosts." Her hand, cigarette still placed between her fingers, gestured around you two to the otherwise empty hallway.

You watched her turn heel and walk down the remainder of the hallway. Your eyes remained latched onto the cheetah print of her coat before she turned out of sight.

You sighed, looking down at your feet for a moment. Shit– you should really check up on that place.

┉┈◈◉◈┈┉

You walked into the house through the back door, noticing the emptiness in the air due to the absence of the living. Ever since the death of the Harmons, the large house has sat abandoned for the most part.

You sighed, running your fingers through your hair. You haven't been here in a hot minute– too caught up at the hotel in the city.

"Oh, look who it is." You looked over your shoulder at the kitchen area, seeing Chad Warwick leaning on the counter. "Back again, oh door-to-door Jehovah's Witness? Still trying to sell us all on that afterlife plan?" You watched his nose crinkle when he spoke and how his clasped hands gripped each other with more strength.

The man's reaction to you was common. He's always been like this. Originally refusing you to stay with his boyfriend, now existing in pure ignorance ever since the relationship soured with age.

You raised your eyebrows, responding to him anyway. "Your choice, Chad. But remember, doors to the afterlife don't stay open forever."

"Hm, do they?" He tilted his head, watching you as you walked by and towards the staircase. You knew his bitterness was just a reflection of his personal problems, so like the others, you didn't let it affect you.

The stairs creaked under your shoes. Dust and broken glass littered the wooden floorboards. Graffiti decorated the walls in various bold colors as you trailed throughout the familiar building.

Your fingers traced the cracked walls. The paint crumbled and fell behind them, hitting the floor softly. The only sound was the sound your shoes made as you navigated down the hall. You finally stopped when you turned a corner, opting to lean against the wooden doorway instead of fully entering it.

Tate laid on the old mattress in the room. It still sat on Violet's old bed frame, although you don't remember who owned the mattress. It's been too long to remember trivial details like that.

The boy turned his head to face you, dirty blond hair falling over his forehead. "What's the matter, Death? Didn't get enough souls today?" His voice was laced in sarcasm, arms crossed in a defensive pose. He became detached after learning of your true purpose. Cold.

You haven't decided if you should put that against him though.

"Just thought I'd check in, Tate. How's the afterlife treating you?" You raised an eyebrow. He's rejected your proposals of moving on more times than you can count. There's no point in being professional anymore. So why do you still feel so attached?

Tate scoffed, sitting up on the bed and crossing his arms in his lap. "Oh, it's great. Violet still hates me; the house is still a hellhole."

So hostile.

"Why are you here?" He added on at the end of his short rant. You watched his blue eyes, lined with redness, narrow at you.

You shrugged, walking in the room slowly. You lingered around the walls, quickly glancing outside through the window. "Just... doing rounds. Discussing the reality of the stubbornness you ghosts seem to hold for my proposal." You said it nonchalantly, but Tate could recognize your poor attempts at manipulation. You were a truthful, blunt entity. Manipulation wasn't in your blood.

You leaned against the wall, shadows encapsulating your face as you looked at the boy. In contrast, the sun amplified his features. His expression of hatred, fear. Refusal to accept his fate. "Maybe," you started, "I'm just... attached in a way I shouldn't be."

"Attached? That's rich." He crossed his legs on the mattress, jaw ticking as his fingers traced the stained seams of the fabric. "I thought you were all business. Guide souls, move on. An eternal one-night stand attitude." He grumbled, eyes looking back at you.

You smiled. "It's not that simple, Tate."

He didn't respond. His fingers continued to trace the stitches in the fabric, trying to find a distraction to the situation he was in. An obvious detail that none of the ghosts here seemed to take into consideration when scaring the living away was the removal of any distractions or entertainment.

You looked down to where Tate – and also Violet, at some point – had stored his albums. The floor was empty now.

"You know," you heard him speak, "if I go with you, there's only one place I'm heading. Hell. Doesn't exactly sound like a vacation."

It wasn't a lie. You had been honest about that with him from the get-go. The boy was destined for Hell, and you couldn't help but silently pray that he'd just accept that.

"Tate, you've always known the consequences of your actions. But staying here, trapped in this endless cycle, isn't a permanent solution to your problem either. You remained natural, as best you could regarding the boy. Your stance was approachable, casual.

His eyes darkened. His finger stopped the movement against the mattress below him. "At least here, I know what to expect. Hell... that's a different kind of torture. I'm not exactly itching to find out what they have planned for me."

"Hm." You hummed, leaning your head against the cracked wall and staring off at the ceiling. "That's true. You don't. I don't even know."

He scoffed, annoyed by your attitude. He could feel his irritation grow the longer you intruded in his space.

"But think about it, Tate." Your nose crinkled as you turned your head to look back at him. "This house won't stand forever." You smiled. "One day it will crumble or be torn down. And where will you be? Trapped in the ruins, a ghost with no anchor. Your suffering won't end, Tate. It'll just evolve into a new kind of torment."

Tate frowned, a hint of fear flickering in his eyes as he quickly looked away from you. "Why does it matter? I'm already in Hell here. At least it's familiar."

Your voice was still soft, but sterner as you continued to fill his head with images of his fate. "Familiar doesn't mean safe. The ghosts bound to this place will scatter, their ties disconnected. Lost without something to focus their energy on. You have a chance to leave this shit hole on your own terms. Obtain a semblance of control over your fate."

"Fuck. Control, seriously? What kind of control do I have knowing what's on the other side?" His voice got louder, angrier as his head shot up to face you again.

"Hiding from what you fear will only make your existence more miserable when this place can't protect you anymore."

Your face went blank. You watched one of his eyes twitch, annoyed by the impending reality he was faced with. You stared at each other, yours a look of understanding, his of fear and boiling hatred. Suddenly, he whispered, "You really believe that, don't you?"

You nod. "I do. I need to. And I'll be here, waiting, for whenever you do too."

You stood up straight, not giving the boy another look as you left the room. Your hand trailed against the wall again, before you turned the corner.

Tate watched you leave, attempting to appear indifferent to your conversation. But he couldn't deny the emotions it stirred up inside him. He could take what the other ghosts said about him. He could push their words down until he either forgot about them or lashed out in a swell of emotions.

But you... you were different. You were an inhuman, cosmic creature crafted by the universe.

And his attachment to you wasn't going to save him. 

[immortalbumblebee]

Chapter 17: Corrosion

I'M SORRY THIS TOOK LIKE 5 MONTHS!!! Tbh this was probably the hardest chapter I've had to write thus far and it was just not working with me. But honestly combined with the new Warwick trailer, and the amount of people flooding into my account and mass-reading my stuff lately??? Thank you so much for the motivation y'all, it really means a lot <3

So without further ago, have this 3k word chapter!

Masterlist

It had taken nearly an hour just to settle the crowds once the officers had left. An entire mob of people, suddenly panicked and in need of a level head to tell them what to do and how to feel. So, by the time Benzo was actually able to walk into the backroom of the arena, the anger that coursed through his veins had (somewhat) been able to cool down, no longer quite boiling over. Now replaced by anxiety that fought with his typically cool-headed mind that was trying to remind him to be rational. The pain in his side wasn’t helping none, of course. His lungs were already shite, but that Enforcer slamming the butt of his gun into his ribs hurt like a bitch… He took a deep, calming breath, ignoring the burning protest of his lungs.

Emotions are never good for business.

“They’ve gone too far this time.” Silco spat, slamming the door as he entered the room behind Benzo. “I mean, storming in here like they own the place, waving their guns around? That’s a new low, even for them.”

“And Min?” Benzo asked, sliding a hand through his thin brown hair, urging his breathing to remain even. Silco nodded, waving his hand as if she were an additional afterthought. Benzo thought about Min getting arrested, the way they threw her to the ground like she was nothing, and suddenly he felt the need to slap Silco upside the head. Bigger fish, he reminded himself. “They’ve never made this much of a show for an arrest before. Grayson knows we’re important down here, and now she’s aiming to take us out of commission.”

“Min’s been arrested just as many times as the rest of us.” Silco argued. “She's strong, she can handle it. Standard protocol; get some bail money together, we run down to the station at first light-” “Are you seriously that petty?” Benzo stepped forward, facing Silco face-on. His tone was careful but carried a weight to it. “This was a godsdamn army, for what? Arresting one lass? This goes beyond your  fucking ‘protocol’!” 

Silco stepped up, meeting Benzo eye-to-eye. Benzo could see the anger in his eyes, flames of passion, he knew the look well amongst his fellow Zaunite revolutionaries. He only wished that he could believe that any of those flames burned for their missing sister-in-arms, but that would be expecting him to put his own anger aside for the good of the cause, for the good of others. And Benzo knew that wasn’t about to happen. 

Taking a deep, attempting-to-be-calming breath, Benzo disengages from Silco’s fury, centring back his focus to address both of them. Noting Vander was still silent, glaring the same hole into the ground.

For fuck’s sake, he thought to himself. 

“You two are the fucking leaders here, aye?” Benzo barked. “So where’s yer fucking plan of attack? What do we do? We’re gonna break her out, right?”

Silco’s the one to speak up, of course, shaking his head aggressively. “Are you kidding me? If we’re caught anywhere near top-side, we’re landing ourselves in a cell right next to her. We’re too conspicuous, too high-profile, and Grayson obviously has her eye on us.” Benzo made a move to fight against Silco, but Vander finally chooses to speak up.

“He’s right. We go running in after her, even all the cogs in the world won’t be able to pay her way out. Odds are, we get clinked too. Then what good are we?”

“Oh give your head a shake!” Benzo exclaims. “We could fucking try!”

Vander’s jaw tenses. “This isn’t a ‘run in half-cocked’ sort of deal.”  Bento scoffs, eyes practically rolling out of his head.

“So…what? We can do…nothing, then? Is that right?”

Vander takes a deep breath, closing his eyes as if he’s focussing on his breath. “Nope. But I think I know who can.”

***

It’s rather unfortunate that, out of all the things you could have inherited from your mother, the recurring habit of getting arrested was one of the more notable.

Also unfortunate that cops are capable of learning.

“Minerva!” Grayson’s voice, practically spitting out your name, had caught you off guard. Your eyes glazed over, looking off to the side. From your spot, seated on the ground with your captured hands sticking out awkwardly in front of you, most of her face hidden by shadows. All the light filtered in through the barred window on the door to your cell, a torch light. The cell was completely lightless, almost a pit of darkness. Dank, dark, and too quiet to be peaceful. But what you could make out from her appearance, you could see wrinkles formed between her eyebrows and a deep sneer. 

“Sorry Commander, I must have dozed off there for a moment.” You finally responded. “Welcome to my humble abode! I’d offer you a drink, but I’m a little…tied up, at the moment.” You lifted your hands, ignoring the cramped feelings in your muscles and joints. The thick metal that encased your hands wore you down, like holding a weight you had no consent in holding, and no ability to put down. 

She didn’t respond to your jest, simply continuing to stare down at you, face like stone but the underlying disgust ever-present. Tough crowd.

“The counsel has been sent the details of your case and are currently discussing further actions.” She explains. “But it’s customary that someone speak with you directly before any major decisions are made.”

“Gonna be a short conversation,” you note, “y’know, on account of the fact that I’ve done nothing wrong. But I suppose everytime something bad happens, us ‘fissure folk’ are to blame, huh?”

She moves on, as if she doesn’t even hear you. “Your nose looks like it hurts.” She notes. Her shoulders are less square than you’ve seen them before, she’s more comfortable here than when you’ve seen her in the Underground. Although you’ve seen her without her helmet before, notably at the apartment when she first introduced herself, seeing her whole face here felt…oddly personal. 

You twitch your nose, feeling the dull pain spike between your eyes. “Pretty, ain’t it?”

“Wanna tell me about the girl who did it? Looked to be a girl by the name of…” she looks down at a file you hadn’t realized she was holding. “Sevika, right?”

Your eyes glance down at the file. Just how many names did they have? “I don’t know, it’s all a little…fuzzy to me. Pretty sure it could have been one of your guys, you know, when they forced me onto the ground and locked up my hands without probable cause.” 

She looks back down at you, eyes cold and unamused. “Are we really going to do this?”

“Do what?” She closes the file and reaches into her pocket. Pulling something out, she shows it off to you with an extended arm. 

“Look familiar?” It’s hard to make out what she’s showing you at first, but slowly you work out the details. A piece of fabric, red cotton. It was wrinkled and stained beyond saving, but there was a darker, fresher stain around most of it that hadn’t been there last you had it. Of course it was familiar, you’d been wearing it-or ones like it-most of your time in the lanes. The bandana that used to be a staple of your wardrobe, now bloody and in the hands of the Chief of Enforcers. 

Your mind flashes to the job just a couple weeks ago, when you’d left the fabric tied around the thigh of that Enforcer you’d attacked. You can feel your heartbeat raise ever so slightly. There’s no way they could have actually linked you to the crime with just your bandana.

“Nope.”

“Really? Cause in all of your mugshots, you’re wearing one just like it in your hair.” She pockets the fabric again. “I notice you’re not wearing one now. Lose it recently?”

You shrug, tilting your head back. “Is changing hairstyles a crime now? I’ll have to let my salon know.”

“Can you account for your whereabouts from three nights ago?”

“You’ll have to ask your mother, I believe I was at her house.”

She rolls her eyes and takes a long, deep sigh. “Minerva,” her tone is calm, but irritable. Like she was scolding a small child. 

You mimic her, rolling your eyes as well, but significantly more dramatic. “Grayson.”

“I am aware that you and your…compatriots may be used to certain lax standards. But I can assure you that physically assaulting one of my officers is not something I intend to easily brush under the rug.” Your hands attempt to fidget within their constraints, your bones buzzing with the need to move them. “I know the man you hurt, he's a good officer. He has a family, a wife and child. Are you really going to allow your anger to blind you so much that you’re willing to take away a child’s father?”

You lean forward, the chains rattling with your movements. “Several of the people your officers pointed a gun at tonight have families too. Those ‘good officers’ you have, they attack and aim firearms at women and children on a daily basis.” Gone was your mocking tone, your light-hearted facade. “You attack our people in our streets, in our businesses, in our homes. But hey, it’s different right? We’re all just fissure-folk trash to you.”

“And that justifies you nearly killing one of my men?” 

You kill hundreds of ours.

Your jaw tightens, biting your tongue. She’s not going to goat you into a confession that easily.

“I didn’t touch ‘your man’.” You finally respond, sitting back against the wall. “And if all you brought me in for was some half-baked story built around a piece of red cloth…well, it’s good to see you’re just as incompetent as your predecessor.”

The room falls silent, both of you glaring daggers at each other. You swear the room grows colder, the cold stone walls looming over you more and more with every passing, silent moment. You tried so hard to focus on the woman in front of you. Maybe if you were more aware, better able to scan her and read her body language, you could find something on her. Find something that you could use against her. But all you could focus on was your bones burning with the urge to use your powers, fanned on by the anger that’s coursing through you. You needed to get out of these damn constraints!

The door to your cell opened again, and another officer poked his head in. This one was much younger, and clearly very nervous. Twitchy eyes looked over from you, to his superior, just as Grayson’s head snapped back to glare at him.

“I gave orders that we weren’t to be disturbed.” Grayson snarled, and you could see the officer practically jump out of his skin in fear.

“Um…I’m sorry Ma’am. But uhh, you see…there’s someone demanding your presence outside.”

“What?” She dug into her pocket, fishing out a silver pocket watch. “It’s not even dawn yet. The doors to the station don’t open for another hour.” 

“There were, um,” his eyes dart over to yours, and the obvious anxiety in his gaze makes you smirk. “Very insistent.”

They? God, please tell me the guys didn’t decide to come…

Grayson lets out a long, heavy sigh of frustration. Stuffing the pocket watch angrily back into her jacket and snapping her folder shut, she begins to storm off out of the room. Just as she grabs onto the heavy metal door, however, her head whips back to stare directly at you. Her eyes, furious.

“We’re not done here, you understand.” It wasn’t a question. 

Lifting your shackled hands to your forehead, you give a mocking-serious face and a curt nod. “Aye aye, cap’n.” 

The door slams behind her, and immediately your mind begins to spiral. The guys can’t have come here, they wouldn’t. Sure, it was basic protocol that all of them would immediately jump to bust the others out of prison whenever one of you got pinched, but this wasn’t your typical riot-crashing or pickpocketing charge. Closing your eyes, you try not to linger on the blurry images of the raid. The white hot shock of fear upon seeing a gun pointed at Narco, Skye, and little baby Vi. The way the frequency of the Enforcer’s guns seemed to scream at you in such large quantities. The fear, all but palpable within the arena as people either were pulled into the fight or ran for their lives. The thought of Benzo being clubbed down, Silco with a knife against his throat and hands raised in surrender, the rage in Vander’s face as they placed you in cuffs. 

This wasn’t like any other run-in with the cops that you’d experienced. This was a whole other level, and you knew that if the guys tried to fight you out or pay anyone off; they’d wind up in cells just like yours. 

You tried not to let your mind linger on that image for too long, either. 

Your throat started to burn with the tears you wouldn’t let yourself shed, your thoughts spinning in and out of control, and you pulled your legs up to your chest, resting your head on your knees. Trying ever so hard to calm your breathing. Please let it not be them out there…

Loud shouting filtered in through the cracks below your cell’s door. You couldn’t make it out, even if you tried, or even how many voices there were, but you could tell it was definitely heated. Were those the guys, fighting tooth-and-nail for your release, only to get shackles placed on them as well? Forced to the ground, kicking and screaming, and arrested in front of a huge crowd with your rage-filled family, forced to watch?

You could only anxiously listen in, your ears straining to hear the muffled sounds as you sat, uselessly, in your stupid little cell. This continues on for what felt like an eternity, but most likely what would have been only half an hour. Until, finally, the door to your cell swings open. On the other side, a very pissed-off Grayson. The flames of her rage practically emanated across the room, getting warmer and warmer as she stormed over to you, keys in hand.

“You got lucky again, Minerva.” She grunts out as she leans down, grabbing your shackles with probably more force than necessary. As she begins to unlock your restraints, your hands slowly begin to regain movement ability, you can feel the energy of your magic slowly flood back into your fingertips. The vibrations of all the metal around you, singing to you like a beautiful orchestra. You could only shut your eyes, the flood of emotions that came with your powers almost overwhelming to your already anxious body. You didn’t even realize that Grayson was still speaking. “-won’t be the last time you’ll be in one of my cells, I can promise you that.”

“What’s going on?” You couldn’t help but ask. You know you sounded pathetic, but this was honestly not how you pictured this going down.

Grayson laughed, but it sounded more like a scoff. “All you Underground folk, all you do is play dirty. Lying and cheating, it comes to you like breathing.”

That didn’t answer your question, but as Grayson slapped a normal pair of handcuffs on you, using them to force you up to your feet, you felt it was better not to ask followup questions. She dragged you by your arm out of your cell and into the all-too familiar main chamber of the Enforcer’s main station. On the other end, however, much to your surprised wasn’t the boys. Rather, two female figures. 

“Minerva!” Not even your mother’s cry was enough to shake you fully out of your shock as she surged forward, throwing her arms around you in a tight embrace. Out of habit, you tried to return your embrace, only to quickly remember your shackles. 

“Mom, what are you doing here?” You asked, quickly pulling away to look down at her with furrowed brows. “You shouldn’t-”

“The boys phoned me!” Her salt-and-pepper hair wasn’t in its usual braid, still down in flowing waves, showing that she had come straight here from bed. Her thick winter coat had been thrown on overtop of her wool nightgown, and her boots were unlaced. 

“They phoned both of us.” The second figure spoke up, Niya’s tone was stern, moreso than you think you’d ever heard from her. Her citrus-coloured hair was messier than how it had been at the arena, and there was a new cut along her lip that she must have gotten during the raid. She looked tired, but more than that, she looked mad. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine…” You looked back down at your mom. “But, why-”

“Your mother and Ms. Niya have negotiated for your release.” Grayson’s words were heavy, and she wasn’t doing a very good job at hiding her snarling face. With begrudging movements, she reached down, unlocking your handcuffs. “You’re free to go.”

Before you really even have a moment to wrap your head around what’s happening, your mother is pulling you away from the captain, all but dragging you towards the door. “Come on,” she whispers to you, “we need to get out of here.” But your eyes are still stuck on Grayson’s, the rage flowing off of her body in waves. 

“I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again soon, Minerva.” She spits.

With all the confusion swimming around in your mind, you try to think of something to say; one last quip to gain the extra hand. You’ve held your ground for so long here, and yet, the only thing you can really think to say is, “looking forward to it.”

[circeyoru]

Maker of His Eyes = Requested

The Request

[Yandere!Sung Jinwoo x Hunter Gear Maker!Reader]

The moment things like gates, dungeons, and mana appeared, everyday people evolved to what people will now call as ‘Hunters’. From then point on, control over these powerful individuals were needed, so then came the ‘Hunter Association’ appeared, soon there were ‘Guilds’ and more other terms that people have long grown accustom to. 

What makes a Hunter? Their rank? Their class? Their power? Their wealth? Their fame? Themselves? The answer is all of the above. However, they were like unpolished stones. They—regardless of their rank—still require a safety net of sorts. Being in the Hunter business is no joke. Perhaps in the beginning, most could just punch monsters with their bare hands and throw random objects at monsters to complete the job, now when these things would return from time to time.

Protection was needed, not only that, but also equipment. Like how a firefighter would gear full gear before rushing into fire or a surgeon would don in protective suits, Hunters needed something similar. Such creations were requested and given to the brave Hunters, albeit not as effective, it was something. 

Soon came the emergence of Crafter—either an Artisan or Blacksmith—that changed the playing field.

“Who’s request are you doing now, Apprentice?” Your master, Warwick, questioned as he put away his tools on the rack nailed into the wall of the workshop. “Don’t tell me it’s for that E-Rank again. Your talents are better placed elsewhere.”

“I’ve done all the requests I got and preparations for some of yours, Sir.” You shouted over the continuous working, you paused and craned your head to eye your teacher in the art of weapon making for Hunters. “You can cut my salary if that’s what you want. I’m still making this.”

Warwick sighed and scratched the back of his head, groaning as he spoke like the grumpy man he is. “That’s not what I meant. If you’re this soft hearted, people will just take advantage of your kindness. You’re a well sought out Crafter, heck, it’s never rarer for a ‘Creator’ to be found.”

You rolled your eyes at the title again. When you awakened, you felt nothing different, but you were more perceive when it came to news and concepts about the newly emergence of Gates, the things inside, and Hunters. Nevertheless, you were evaluated. When your result came back as <Unknown>, you were sent to another room, it was there that you were tested to be an Artisan and a Blacksmith after knowing you were a Crafter. Because of your rarity, you were taken in by the Hunter Association for protection. 

Unlike an S-Rank Hunter, you were an ordinary citizen when outside on the streets or in a dungeon. You couldn’t defend yourself and as much as you didn’t want to admit it, your friend was unable to protect you as well. You honed your skills and craftsmanship, your teacher/master Warwick taking full responsibility as the best Weapon and Armour maker in Korea.

Soon, he was outmatched by your raw talent and many started to request your creations. With your wide range of work, you were later dubbed ‘Creator’, a class that set you apart from the others that where separated into Artisan or Blacksmith. Artisans craft artifacts like gears ranging from armour to jewelery, and Blacksmiths craft weapons, what the two have in common is that both could invent and create items that make use of the new elements found in dungeons.

You, however, could do all and more. While at random, you grant effects to your creations and sometimes controllable by the request given. Not only that, but you could identify the useful spoils from bad. Even going as far as to have a unique design in your head and start working. Such was your power and talent.

Now you mentioned about a friend of yours. He was a Hunter and had awakened earlier than you have, but as an E-Rank, later gaining the title that labelled him as the lowest of low. You heard whispers of association members that your friend’s mana level was worse than that of the Artisans or Blacksmith. You would bite the inside of your lower lip and leave.

Sung Jinwoo. E-Rank. The Weakest Hunter of All Mankind.

It was that one that when your friend was visiting your workshop and delivering some food for you that you snapped. It happened too abruptly. There was a Blacksmith newbie that was assigned to be watched by you and supervised by Warwick, mainly you, but the newbie loved following you around. That newbie was berating Jinwoo when you left the room momentarily, however, you returned earlier than expected and had the newbie fired by your authority. You even staked your job at the association. So of course, your request was fulfilled.

Somehow though, you managed to have missed that dark and obsessed look in his eyes in that moment you protected him. Good for him, but… Well, ignorant is bliss.

From then on, you had Jinwoo use anything of your creation to show that he was protected.

It was a day like any other, Jinwoo got up and ready for work as a Hunter. He arrived at the site, faking ignorant from the whispers and gossips of the Hunters around him when he made his appearance. He’ll admit, he was weak but there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn’t even afford to quit because he needed money to support his family.

Then there was you. A Hunter—he mistakenly thought—dressed too causal for a raid, you were also idly standing by and maybe observing? He made his way over to exchange greeting with you. “Hi, I’m Sung Jinwoo, E-Rank. You should change into some protective gear or bring a weapon before heading into the Gate.”

You raised a brow at him and chuckled as if you understood a joke. “Oh, no no. I’m not a Hunter. I’m just observing what Hunters use as gears and stuff. Thanks for worrying though.”

Jinwoo noticed that you seemed to have avoided the whole topic of him being an E-Rank, like you didn’t register his rank but only picked up that he was a Hunter. He found himself sheepishly laughing along, “Haha, sorry, I thought you’re a Hunter because people need authorization to be in here.”

“Oh.” Your head jerked a bit and you looked back to where a safety line was visible. You turned back to Jinwoo and spoke a bit softer. “I think I might have crossed the line… In a literal sense.” You clapped your hands and your head bowed as like a prayer. “Please don’t tell anyone or report me.” Your head raised and you stared at him in the eye, “How about this? I’ll treat you after your raid’s done. I’ll be here waiting.”

Under normal circumstances, he would refuse and decline it. Truthfully, he wouldn’t even tell anyone on you since he knew no one would care for the word of an E-Rank. Yet, he nodded with a smile, “I’ll hold you to that.”

You smiled back at him. A sight that made his heart flutter and beat faster than danger. 

Never had he looked forward to the end of a raid because of someone other than his family was waiting for him. There was you today. When the raid declared clear and the team went back to the entrance, he stayed at the back and swiftly left to where you’d be waiting. He was a bit disappointed when you were nowhere in sight, but when he walked further away from the site and pass the safety line…

You jumped on him with a scare and shocked the daylights out of him. Luckily, he wasn’t hurt much this time. You laughed for a solid minute before you wiped away your tears and smiled softly at him, “Job well done on a successful raid.”

He didn’t bring himself to say his teammates did most of the work while he was at the back doing nothing to help. He just smiled along and thanked you, getting up and asked where you’d take him. He remembered your smooth hands that grabbed his rough one as you dragged him away from his Hunter work to the pleasures he would have enjoyed. A moment in his trying times that he could relax and smile carefreely.

So started a friendship he slowly grow and twisted.

Any form of attention you give him, he ate it up like a starving stray. From time to time, you’d ask him about where he’d be raiding at and he would give you a location. You told him you purposefully target the lower ranked Gates without claim to a guild so you would be able to observe easily since security was more laxed. 

A day he drended and prayed to never come happened sooner than he’d like. He was carried out by his teammates, the healers that joined the raid that time wasn’t as skilled. Wounds all over him and he was losing blood, not to mention consciousness. You, like every other time, were standing at the site waiting for him. His blurry sight caught your panicked look and rush to him, he heard your cries and gave you a soft smile to reassure you. 

While he was laid on a stretcher, you ran off to where the loot was and grabbed a few items. The Hunters and workers around you didn’t interrupt you as they obviously saw the glowing aura around your form. When you returned, you pulled along the healer and tied what you gotten on them in some way and ordered for them to heal him again. The familiar glow surrounded him and he felt light and his body relaxed from stiffness.

Before his eyes closed and his consciousness faded, he just knew you were being pushed to be evaluated for your deeds while you tried to get to him. To be by his side instead of theirs. 

How troublesome.

Note: A bit short and dull for my liking, but hope you guys like this.

Circe Y.

My Works: MASTERLIST

[bestwitchsam]

My sexy jesus boyfriend i love u forever #ArcaneAct2

[hyperfix-wip]

Next to You

Pairing: Hobie Brown x GN!Reader/ Spider-Punk x GN!Reader

Word count: 1.3k

Author's Note: I am not sorry @the-kr8tor , @yumeaoka-chan , @pleaktale. And @rexlroze , YOU have specifically kickstarted the Loser!Hobie rabbit hole, and I have now got myself into loving these losers lmao. I'd like to thank @pinksugarscrub for beta reading for me and helping me out with this piece! Also, this piece contains some spoilers for Arcane Season 2, so don't read it if you don't want to be spoiled!

Tags: Lovestruck!Hobie, Loser!R, Nerd!R, Fluff, Spoilers for Arcane Season 2, Some Explicit Language

Hobie knew what he signed up for when he asked you out.

Despite your typically quiet personality, he knew you were passionate at heart. He knew that when he jumped through the portal to your universe and landed on your bed, only to see you bawling your eyes out over an animated show before you screamed bloody murder from his sudden arrival and fell down on the floor. He knew that when he looked around your room and saw all the posters of different shows and artists covering your walls, all your favorite books and figurines lined up on your shelves, the sketchbooks filled with all of your favorite characters in your specific art style. He knew that when his eyes landed on your pajama bottoms with some cute bison-like mascot from a show he overheard you talk about with Miles at the Spider Society. 

Even if you were scrambling off the floor, too flustered to make any coherent words to him while struggling to pause your show, he knew he liked this new side of you he discovered. And he especially knew he he was smitten with you the moment he asked you about the show you were watching, watching your eyes instantly light up before you drag him onto the bed and restart the show for him, obliviously nestling against his side while you eagerly ran your mouth about the premise of the show.

Yeah, he knew what he signed up for when he asked you out after binging the whole series with you.

Which was why he was prepared for you bawling your eyes out and smearing clear snot on his shirt while he cradled you in his arms. He gently shushed you while the end credits quietly ran in the background, running his long nimble fingers through your hair before pressing his lips against the top of your head.

“ ’s okay, lovie,” he whispered against your skin as he peppered more tender kisses, “I know, I know…”

Hiccups and sobs wracked up your body as you buried your face into his chest, your voice muffled into the cotton fabric. “It’s– It’s not fair! They were– they were together again! The writers couldn’t even let them be together for one full day?!”

Hobie quietly pulled the fluffy duvet from the end of your bed over the two of you, wrapping you into a tight embrace within the blanket and in his arms. “I know, darling, I know…”

“It’s just– it hurts so much! The fact that Isha was the one who did that, and it just paralleled with–”

“Yes, I know, luv–”

“Like, they didn’t have make Isha’s last moments an alternate version of Powder’s attempt in Season One where Powder’s plan worked–”

“I know, sweetheart–”

“And the pastel colors during the memory sequence for Isha– fuck– she basically remembers the Undercity as this bright and fun place because of Jinx, and not only did Jinx and Vi had to relive the trauma of losing Vander through Warwick again, but Jinx had to basically watch her baby sister, her inner child, and a version of herself sacrifice herself in front of her eyes…”

A hiccup wracked up your body again before fresh tears flooded your red-rimmed eyes, and Hobie wrapped his arms tighter around you while you sobbed into his chest again. “Fuck– I can’t– I don’t think I’m gonna last for the next three episodes–”

Hobie shushed you gently again while brushing his lips along your hairline, his fingers gently scratching your scalp while his other hand reached out for the cup of water he set to the side before you played the new episode. “C’mon, sit up for me, lovie,” he whispered against your forehead before carefully shifting the both of you up against the headboard. “Don’ wan’cha ta turn int’a raisin on me…”

You could only nod with a sniffle in response, blinking away the bleary tears in your eyes and snorting the clear mucus back up your red nose, before you sat up and grabbed the plastic cup from him. The moment you took a sip, the cool water instantly flooded and alleviated your raw throat, and you slowly drained the cup until it turned up empty.

A small smile curled up on Hobie’s lips as he gingerly grabbed the cup from your hands and set it back onto your nightstand. Without another thought Hobie then grabbed the hem of his shirt and peeled it off, goosebumps instantly pricking his skin as the cold air hit it, before gently pushing the shirt against your nose.

“Blow.”

You instantly obliged and blew your nose into his shirt, and he carefully pinched your nose and rubbed the snot off before tossing it across the room and on top of the pile of your dirty laundry in your hamper.

“Kobe.”

“Still don’ know who tha’ bloke is, but sure, lovie.”

A shaky chortle slipped through your lips before Hobie pulled you back into his arms and wrapped the blanket over you two again.

“Y’know, you could've gotten up to get a napkin instead of using your shirt–”

“It is too bloody cold to get out of this bed,” Hobie snickered while tucking your head underneath his chin. “Plus my shirt was already your personal snot rag, so it didn’t make a difference.”

You rolled your eyes with a sniffle before you nuzzled against his chest, and he in turn pressed his lips against your forehead again with a slight smirk. Your television gently illuminated the both of you in the dark, and you glanced up to see the blue light glinting from his piercings and his warm, dark eyes. His face softened at the sight of you, with splotchy skin and red-rimmed eyes, and he couldn't help but find you adorable in that moment. His arms pulled away in lieu of cupping your cheeks with his hands, and he gently tilted your head up to brush his lips against yours in a brief, comforting kiss. Your lips reluctantly parted from each other, with you trying to chase his lips to steal another one in vain, before he wrapped his arms around you in another tight embrace.

“...was this season as good as you hoped it would be, lovie?”

“God, yes, it’s so fucking good.”

Hobie huffed out a small chuckle while you tangled his lanky legs with yours. “Like, I can’t wait for Act Three to come out in a few days, but I also know it’s going to hurt so much watching those last episodes and have to watch the conclusion of it…”

Hobie nodded along with a tender smile as he gazed back down, his chest warming up as you started your cute little rant again. One of his hands trailed up your back and lingered on the back of your neck, gently massaging it while you continued talking.

“Like, I know there is going to be a clusterfuck of emotional damage for me at the end of this season. We still gotta see Ekko and Heimerdinger, we gotta see what’s gonna happen next for Jinx, Vi and Caitlyn, and we also have to deal with Jayce and Viktor– oh my god, that fucking scene of Jayce aiming that fucking cannon at Viktor–”

Hobie’s smile grew softer the more he listened to you, your voice still slightly raw and hoarse from the prolonged crying and your eyes glinted with the same eager light he saw that fateful day months ago, and his chest warms up just the same, his heart just as smitten with you as before.

You instantly stopped talking the moment a weight pressed down against the top of your head, and you pushed your head up to see Hobie’s eyes closed and his lips parted with shallow breaths. Your heart fluttered at the sight of the sleeping man huddled against you, his demeanor relaxed and languid as his lips curled up into a small, boyish smile, before you carefully pulled the blanket over him and pressed a gentle peck against his lips and nestled against him to join him in his slumber.

-----

Song Recommendation of the Day courtesy of @pinksugarscrub

[rubysgirl32]

Behind the Cameras

Ruby Cruz x Fem!reader

Warnings: Enemies to lovers (kinda), VERY ANGSTY (reader and Ruby get to a fight), swearing, self hatred thoughts, and inner homophobia from reader

Summary: Reader gets paired with ruby for the press tour, which sucked because ruby seemed to constantly be dick around her.

Author's note: I just re edited this, so its more complete and its in second person pov rather than third, so yeah! enjoy 🤍

─── ∘°❉°∘ ───

Being casted for the second season of Willow was something you never really expected. The audition in itself felt like a fever dream, but actually getting the role felt like your entire life was falling into place, just as you would dream of as a kid. You grew up with Willow, your brother and you were obsessed with George Lucas, so it was a constant binge between Star Wars, Willow and Howard the Duck. It was truly a dream for you, to get to fly to Wales, to be invited into this magical world and meet everyone, especially Warwick. What wasn’t a dream come true, was her.

“And yeah, this is truly a gift being back to playing a fucking disney princess, its crazy to me” Ruby replies at the interviewer, her brushed hair perfectly in place, and her lips forming a stupid perfect smile in such an effortless way as answers the question.

“And with the new cast, how has it been adding new characters and extending the willow family?” The woman asks, shuffling in her seat as she leans in closer for the answer

Ruby’s smile turned plastic quickly. She looked down at her finger and fiddled with her rings.

“Yeah, it was… fun. I mean with these new characters, the stories go further and are truly more interesting. We truly did welcomed everybody with such open arms-”

You stopped the video and looked back at your brother who stood with his arms folded.

“That lying bitch” You gasp “Open arms? Open arms, seriously? She is one of the coldest people I know- she never even once during filming spoke to me, and then says she welcomed me with open arms?” you huff out pure anger as rolling your eyes passing the phone back to your brother. The rest of the cast did receive you with open arms. Everyone was really lovely, and you quickly became a part of the already tight knight family, but ever since the table reading back in October, Ruby has yet to speak or even present herself to you. She dodges you in corridors, leaves whenever you enter the room and once she even left early from training because of you. 

“Just wanted to show it to you before you heard from the rest,” Jack shrugged. He then sat next to you on the couch, turned off his phone and threw it softly til the last cushion.  You looked back at your brother with a soft smile. God, you were lucky enough to have him around. You truly didn’t know where you would be without him.

“Thanks” you says softly as you grabs the TV remote “Let’s watch something, i need to get that moment off my head”

“How about Star-” Jack begging to say

“I'm not watching Star Wars again” you cut off like always. 

He laughs, rolling his eyes and grabs his drink from the center table. The two of you spent the day watching an X-men marathon, eating whatever was left in the fridge and pantry, just like when you were kids. It was not until noon, on the third film, when the silence was broken. Jack looked over at you and smiled sadly.

“I’m worried,” he confesses “Press tour stars tomorrow, and it’s supposed to be this amazing thing where you guys have fun and get to introduce the world to this new season but… i'm scared its gonna get ruined by Ruby’s stupid comments and bullshit”

You sigh knowing very well what he ment. Last week you got informed that you were sadly paired with Ruby for the interviews. Since you were a brand new character and never actually done a press tour for anything, the producers had decided to pair you with someone who already has experience with interviews, and apparently the universe thought that you and Ruby would make a great pair.

“I’ll survive” you says blankly shoving a cockie into your mouth “Plus, we are spending the day talking with other people, so i hope it won't be that bad”

“If anything happens you call me, okay?” He raises his hand and points up his pinky. This is some stupid thing you use to do when you were kids, but every now and then he would bring it back

“Promise” you link your pinkie with his and tightly squeeze them.

─── ∘°❉°∘ ───

From the moment you woke up at 7 am, a heavy pressure chest seemed to be placed roughly. Started when you got out of bed and followed along to the moment you got into the tall building where the interviews were being made. Your very strict assistant, Lola, told you the plan for the day as they were shown the small break room, where you had to change and put on the interview outfit. It was a light blue and white dress that looked very 60s, some pearl earrings and a necklace that matched. Sometimes an outfit can change your entire mood, so once you were dressed up, you couldn’t help but feel just a bit better. Then the make up artist came in and started applying some soft natural makeup that consisted of blushy cheeks and a soft eyeliner. But even after that, there was still something tense and heavy on your chest that didn’t seem to want to leave you alone. You walked out of the break room, into the place where you would spend the next 7 hours answering questions. You wave hello to everyone on set as the man starts putting on the mic pack on you and checking if your makeup looks good under the lights. You then sat on the chair and took out your phone from the pocket on the dress to see a message from your brother, Jack.

Annoying older brother: Good luck!!

Annoying older brother: Remember our promise, call me if anything happens

You smile and just type back an eye rolling emoji as a response. You put down her phone  once you felt someone sitting next to you, and softly reminded yourself where you were and the way you were supposed to behave. The silence took over the room as you left your phone under your leg. You looked over to your right to see Ruby. She looked nice. She was wearing an oversized red blouse and a white jacket, and her hair was messy. 

“Hi” You greets softly with a small wave

Ruby looks at you, nods shortly and looks away. 

You tried to take the response in a less personal way, looking away and trying to swallow the anxiety away. But once the young interviewer arrives, and Ruby literally stands up to shake his hand and greet him, it becomes more than personal to you.  You stood up too, to shake his hands and greet him as he got ready for the interview. They haven’t even started and you were already fiddling with the hem of your dress nervously, like a child.

“Well Ruby, Y/n, I just want to thank you for giving us another season of Willow. We are truly excited to see not only the adventure you go on now, but the new characters as yourself y/n”

You just smiled and nodded in response.

“Now how does it feel to join such a magical and close family, how have they treated you?” The interviewer asked as he shuffled with his cards

What a perfect question.

“It's truly been a gift” you starts, your voice being slightly weak but you quickly clears your throat and begin again “I grew up huge George Lucas fan and honestly at first I was truly terrified of joining the cast and crew, but they really have received me with… open arms” Your words slightly bitter. You notice how Ruby looked at you from the side, clearly noticing your reference “It’s been such a dream come true, really”

The interviewer nodded and read the next card in hand “Now giving to much away, what can you tell us about this new season”

“Well” Ruby stars, with a hand on her jaw “There’s definitely a lot more action. Me and y/n actually have a lot of scenes together where we had so much fun! And the adventures this season are-”

You could hear Ruby speaking but it was like your mind just stopped listening

“...So much  fun!”

Her voice ringed in your head again, as your thoughts ran crazy. You couldn't remember a single time you had “fun” with Ruby on set. Actually, you can clearly remember that every fight scene you had together was actually hell, since Ruby had past training and it seemed so easy for her to just pick up on choreography. Every time you got a move wrong or stumbled on the fight, Ruby would roll her eyes and sigh frustrated. Every single scene together was hell for both of them, and Ruby just said they had “So much fun”? 

The anxiety in your chest started to slowly become fury, and the confusion of why would Ruby ever lie in an interview if not needed completely took over your thoughts. Your ears turned warm and you fisted her left hand, digging your white painted nail into your palm.

“Right Y/n?” Ruby looked at you and gave you a tight and clearly fake smile. It was obvious from  the stare that you were supposed to follow along with her lie

“Yeah” you nod, trying to smile at the interviewer “So much… fun!”

The guy bought it clearly as he continued with his vague and irrelevant questions. As Ruby answered most of them, you just sat back, thinking about Ruby’s words. Every now and then you would nod your head, agree, or even let out a fake laugh, but never really truly talk much. The interviewer didn’t seem to mind, and so you just stayed silent. 

“Maybe I wasn't gonna be as okay as I thought I was gonna be” You thought to herself as you fiddled with the ring on your finger. You wished you could be back in your apartment, with your brother, watching stupid movies and laughing like idiots at the simplest things.

“Last question before I leave,” the man announces as he looks at his watch, checking the time “Yesterday, we interviewed Tony and Erin and they told us of the wrapping party you guys had at your house, Ruby. Do you guys have any funny or just stupid memories of that night?”

You cluelessly, tilt your head and look at Ruby who laughs as she clearly knows what he’s talking about.

“Oh my god! The wrapping party was so much fun!” she claps her hands softly, as you stare completely clueless “So yeah, after almost a year of shooting the second season, I invited the cast and crew to the house i was renting, to have a kind of a goodbye party or something but…a funny memory? Oh yeah! We ordered pizza, but I'm talking about tons of pizza, and we made this… kind of tower? We stackled them up until we literally had to get on top of each other to put on the next, and that was honestly so much fun” she said “or when me, Dempsey, Amar and Tony did like a weird karaoke battle? That was fun too”

Something inside of you started to crack slowly. Your head spinning with bullet-like thoughts that seemed to kill every grasp from reality you held. A wrapping party? With cast and crew? With everybody? When was this? Why weren't you invited? Ruby said it was at the end of filming and that was 6 months ago, and you were finding about this now? And then it hit you like a truck. Of course you weren't invited. You were new. You barely knew the cast, got a year too late to the family, of course they were not gonna invite you. The anxiety inside your chest started to rise, stopping right at your throat. 

“Tony mentioned it yesterday!” The man laughs “And you y/n?” he then asks you “any favorite memories of that night?”

Ruby turned to look at you and it felt like her gaze left you under pure pressure. It felt like her blue eyes were burned into your head and made the anxiety get even worse. Your fisted hand grew sweaty as you swallowed roughly. 

“I-” the words wouldn’t come out but you just tried again doing your best to look as normal as possible “Yeah… The karaoke battle was crazy fun”

The man behind camera yelled cut, the interviewer then excused himself as in came the assessor to come touch up the makeup, outfits and mics. But before anyone could even get close to you, you marched quickly straight to the small break room where you got ready. You closed the door and ran to the desk filled with water bottles. You took one, twisted it open harshly and started chugging the cold water. You could feel it run down your body, but that didn’t seem to help. You took it off your mouth and breathed heavily and quickly, leaving the water bottle with the rest. The first thing that came into mind was texting your brother, so you looked around the room for your phone, moving the cushions and bags.

Three knocks came from the door and then someone just opened it. Ruby came in looking quite weirded out by the mess you were making. She closed the door, causing you to turn around to see Ruby staring at her.

“Ruby” you stammered “I- I thought you were-”

“The interviewer is late” she said coldly “They gave us a break”

“Yeah sorry, I was just looking for my pho-”

“I don’t care” she snapps back

You just nod and bite your lip harshly trying to push back any stupid emotions. You were an actress for god sake, why couldn’t you just fake your emotions. Why can’t you act as if Ruby’s word didn’t mean a single thing. It was so overwhelming that your face clearly started growing warm and Ruby clearly seemed to notice.

“What’s wrong?” She said as she left her purse on the couch, her voice sounded quite genuine instead of annoyed “why are you crying?”

You turns around towards the dresser with a mirror, to see the soft mascara running down your cheek

“Shit!” you swore under your breath, swiping the tear away leaving the black mascara smeared across your face “Shit! Lola gonna kill me” you then ran towards the small bathroom to grab some toilet paper and placed it under the water tab to start trying to clean it away. Your soft swipes turned harsh as the stain on her face didn’t want to leave. If Lola saw you like this, she would be pissed for screwing up her first ever interview “Fuck!”

“Heyheyhey'' Ruby said, grabbing your wrist and stopping the wet toilet paper from slapping your face. Her touch was probably meant to be sweet, but instead it came out quite harsh since her grip on your wrist was quite strong. "Water's not gonna work, it's probably waterproof, just…” Ruby let’s go of you to pushed her hair back with a sigh “Seat on the toilet, let me get some make up remover”

You let go of the wet toilet paper and left it on the sink. Then you sat down on the toilet seat, as tears started to fall down your face. You pushed your hands into your face, completely ashamed of yourself. Your first interview ever and you ended fucking crying in the bathroom

 Ruby walked back into the room with a bottle of make up remover and cottons on her hand. 

“Come on” she says coldly “We don’t know when the interviewer is arriving” She then kneels in front of you and starts to place some of the liquid on the cotton ball.

“Why did you say that?” You ask in between the tears. It was clear that Ruby was trying her hardest to look away, avoiding your gaze but before she even think of it, you spoke “Why did you say any of that when you know that shit isn’t fucking true” 

“I-” she began

“What did I ever do to you?” Your voice broke while speaking. It felt like the anxiety inside of  you gripped you tightly making it impossible to even let the words out

Ruby freezes and blinks a few times. She then leaves the bottle on the floor a bit too strongly as she looks back up at you with a frustrated sigh. Her frown is lowered and her looks became a deathly glare.

“Nothing” she says simply taking the cotton in her hand and move it close to your face

“Then why do you ignore me? Why do you always look at me like I'm a bother? Why didn’t you fucking invite me to the wrapping party?” You move your hand away from your face, trying to have a conversation

“Because…” she said before swallowing “Because i…” Her words never really leading anywhere

“Because what?! What Ruby?” The tears that once where on your cheeks where now running down your neck

Ruby shook her head and she stood up and dusted off her pants clearly bothered. She shook her head, her hair swishing perfectly. 

“I can’t do this right now” she says walking out the small bathroom with an tired huff “I’m gonna get some air”

You stood up and followed behind her, your slingback heels clacking against the floor

“Ruby!” you call out frustrated “Answer me, please”

Ruby turned and it was clear she was mad, and it was written all over her face. On the way she pursed lips in disgust, in the way her eyebrows met harshly on top of her eyes, on the way cheeks were red and her eyes dead serious. On the way her chest was out proudly and her hands were fisted in the same way your’s were a few moments ago.

“Because…” she says, completely stone cold, and her head tilted to the side “Because you’re… fuck!” her fist raised and shaking in rage as tried to find her words

You took a careful step back, lower lip slightly quivering. Ruby didn’t have to say a word, because you knew, you knew what she meant. You knew everything. You were annoying, you are not part of the cast.

Ruby groaned as she ran her hand through the hair. Then she walked toward you, her steps firm and commanding, intimidating every bone in your body, making you walk backwards completely scared of what might happen now. You walked back to the small bathroom, till you hit the wall. You tried to press yourself against the wall as much as possible, closing your eyes and raising both of her hands, in defense. 

Ruby was barely a few inches away, looking at you as you trembled nervously against the wall. Everything seems to be going from bad to worse, and it didn’t help the fact that you were shivering like a scared cat. The short haired girl sighed, placing both of her hands in her face, groaning loudly. You opened a single eye, to see your co-star. Ruby removed her hands from her face to look back at you, both of your eyes locked in. And it was then when you felt her warm lips on top of her. Ruby was grabbing your jaw as she pushed you back against the wall. You froze in place and did not reciprocate the kiss, even though something new inside you roared into life.

Ruby stopped and then separated your lip, to look up at you with your eyes wide open in fear. Ruby inhaled completely terrified as her face turned white.

“Oh my god” She whispered “I am so-”

Ruby interrupted when both of your arms wrapped around her, your chest and shaking lips against hers. At first it was really weird for you. Kissing a girl was different… new. Feeling something for a girl was… new. It took a few seconds for the two of you to melt into the kiss, softly placing your hands around each other, softly caressing and touching each other as much as they could. The kiss was salty with your tears, but sweet with Ruby’s cherry chapstick. 

“Guys! The interviewer is here!” Lola yelled as she knocked loudly on the break room door. Her voice quickly made you freeze, stopping the kiss, and turning your once melted warm body to stiff and cold. 

Ruby looked back at you, opening her eyes softly to find a single tear falling off of your face. It  was like looking at a wax figure. pale and completely frozen in place. The knocks kept pounding against the door so the short girl ran towards it and told Lola they are just talking some stuff and that they will be right back out. You, who snapped back from the pure fear of someone finding you with a girl,  reacted and quickly picked up the cotton with makeup remover and wiped it hard against your cheeks. 

You were just kissed. By Ruby. Ruby who ignored you for months, Ruby who can’t stand you. Ruby who is… a girl. A girl just kissed you. You kissed a girl. What’s that supposed to mean? Are you gay now? Did you like girls? What about boys? What if someone found out about this? What if her parents found out about her kissing a girl? What if they hated her?

What if Jack hated her?

Before your anxieties turned into catastrophic realities,  Ruby came back to the bathroom and stood closely to you. She softly placed her hands on your jaw and moved your face till you were facing her, and no longer the mirror. She took the cotton from your fingertips hand and started swiping it on your cheek and under eye softly, petting and cleaning the black ink from your face. To say you were confused, was to say the least. When you arrived at the building, you swore that Ruby hated you like no one else in the world, but now, she was treating you like one would treat their romantic partner. It didn’t make sense, the sudden change but neither did the strong beating of your heart. By having Ruby’s warm and gentle hand on your jaw, cupping your face carefully and tenderly, it made your heart naturally calm down and made you head grow fuzzy. The soft brush of the cotton in her only made you gaze into an even more peaceful state. 

“Done” Ruby said letting go of your face and throwing away the cotton ball “Let’s go”

You wake up from the cold air hitting your cheek and you quickly step back to create some distance between the two of you. You swiped your nose with the back of your hands and looked at the floor nervously. Ruby opened her voice to speak, but you quickly ran out the bathroom and the break room to where a young woman was sitting waiting for you guys. You go to sit on your chair, to find your phone, which you quickly grabbed and texted Jack

 Snarky little sister: Hey

 Snarky little sister: U were right

 Snarky little sister: Can you come pick me up? plz?

 Snarky little sister: I really don’t need a car ride back with her

 Snarky little sister: i finish a 6

You sent your location and turned off your phone and shoved it under your leg like before. At least you weren’t crying anymore, and with the bit of makeup the assessor just applied, made you now look decent.

The rest of the day was a blur. It was interviews after interview. The same questions being asked over and over. Eventually there was a lunch break where you decided to lock yourself in the bathroom and eat your lunch on your own to drown out the confusing feeling bubbling inside of you. Ruby knocked a few times and tried to talk to you, but you couldn’t even process her words. Every time she tried to talk to you, you would walk away or tried to mutter a “not now” under your breath. These new feelings and emotions felt like bricks under you. The possible reaction from your family made you tremble with pure fear.  And the questions the journalist asked her over and over again just made her look like a broken record, repeating over and over the same phrase.

After 6 hours in the same room, you were finally able to leave. Lola tried to talk to you, her tone scary and stern as she scolded you, but you just grabbed your bag and left for the elevator. Even though everything you were wearing wasn't technically yours, you couldn’t bother to change, you couldn’t bear another second in that room with Ruby and with all of those people with their eyes on you. So you just left.  Once in the lobby, you saw a text from jack.

Annoying older brother: I'm a few blocks away, wait for me inside

And so you did. You waited in the lobby, tapping your shows anxiously against the marble floor, making it echo around the room. There was a ding from behind you, and you see Ruby, in different clothes, walking quickly up to you. Your airways seemed to close as you turned around and started walking even faster away from her.

“Y/n!” Lola screamed “the car hasn't arrived yet, where are you going?” she looked up from her phone, shaking her disappointment “The chauffeur is 5 minutes away!”

You turned around, walking back carefully not to trip. You tried your best no to meet Ruby’s eye as you simply shook your head.

“Jack came to pick me up” you yell loud enough for everyone to hear, but it was clear that your voice was weak and on the edge of cracking “I’m leaving with him, i'll text you when i get home”

Then Ruby started walking faster and calling you names, to catch up with you, but you left the building and made yourself to the street. You then saw your brother's blue jeep and you quickly jumped in and left. On the rearview mirror you could see Ruby staring back at you, as the car took off quickly, her figure became smaller til she was barely visible.

Jack quickly placed his hand on your knee, and the touch on itself was enough to make you burst into tears once again. You cover your mouth in disappointment of your previous actions. Your sobs soon got louder than the radio, completely drowning all the noise around them. The fingertips on your mouth shaking as you could softly still taste Ruby’s stupid cherry chapstick.

─── ∘°❉°∘ ───

[gurugirl]

The Con Artist | Part 3*

Summary: Harry's being cold toward you and it drives you crazy, but your attitude is making him nuts, so when there's a bit of car trouble what else can be done but find a dingy motel in the middle of nowhere even when you're both getting on each other's nerves? Surely the detective will remain professional with you.

Warning: Graphic descriptions and details of smut, unprofessional cop behavior, use of handcuffs (not the fun kind)

11.8k words

A/n: detective!harry x criminal!reader. This is part 3 of this series. The Con Artist Masterlist

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Harry was doing everything a good detective shouldn’t be doing. He should have never walked up to you at Victory Park and he certainly shouldn’t have approached you at the Warwick and then brought you back to his room. He shouldn’t have kept you in his custody at all. He had nothing to keep you for. But he wasn’t ready to give up yet. Oh, and there was the fact that that moment he was lapping at your breasts with your fingers in his hair. This was also a bad idea.

You arched your back upward pushing your ribcage into Harry and he moved his hands along your sides and over your nipples. He couldn’t resist you which is why it was so frustrating when you were acting like a brat toward him because all he wanted was for you to be nice and easy. But you weren’t easy. Nor were you nice and it drove him crazy. He was used to women being very eager and sweet toward him, throwing themselves at him even because they wanted him to see their best side. But you didn’t care what Harry thought. Your attitude was infuriating but he liked the challenge of you.

Harry lowered his mouth and kissed downward to your belly button. You were still fully clothed, as was he, but he had your white t-shirt pushed up above your breasts with your bra pulled down so your tits were exposed.

But then as Harry brushed his mouth over your belly button he heard your stomach gurgle, which reminded him why you were in his motel room in the first place, and he suddenly realized with a bit more clarity that the situation had gotten out of hand. He pushed himself up and groaned. You were so pretty and so ready for him. He knew he could take this as far as you’d let him, and it seemed like you were more than ready for whatever he wanted. But he needed to remain strong.

He rubbed his hands over his face and then he felt your warm hand grasp his elbow. He opened his eyes and looked at you. You’d already pulled your shirt back down over your breasts and were sat up. You had a look of question on your face. It didn’t make sense to you why he’d stopped. That wasn’t something you were used to. It felt like rejection.

Harry lowered his hands from his face and frowned, “I’m sorry, Y/n. This is my fault and it’s fucked up. This is not supposed to happen. We shouldn’t be engaging like this. I’m responsible for everything here.”

He got up from the bed and tilted his head back as he looked up at the ceiling and then he paced from the front door of the motel room to the bathroom door. Back and forth, hands on his hips and trying to work out in his head what he was going to do.

You watched him as he lifted his arms and bent them at the elbow and cradled the back of his head, still pacing. He was in distress. He’d busted up his own boundaries and fucked up the case. All because he couldn’t control the dick-brain he got when he was around you.

“Okay… here’s what we’ll do,” Harry lowered his arms and walked back toward the bed, but didn’t sit down, “we’ll leave now and go to your mom’s, and then we’ll head to LA. It’s about 8 am so your mom should be awake, right?” He looked at you briefly before he began to pace again, not wanting to allow himself too much time to scan you and take you in with your messy hair, kiss-swollen lips, and flushed cheeks.

You nodded, “Yeah,” you spoke in a soft voice. You didn’t like this at all. Your brain was still confused about everything. About how you felt about the detective and what it meant that you were actually going back to LA with him.

Harry nodded and exhaled a deep breath, “Right. Okay. Well, let’s get our things and get out of here. We’ll go to the bar and get your car and I’ll follow you to your mom’s.”

You stayed in Harry’s car as he ran in to settle up for the night at the motel. Before he went into the office he pointed at you and gave you a warning, “I’ll be watching you. Do not run. I will catch you. I run faster than you and can probably go for a lot longer than you. So don’t even go there.”

His words didn’t help the state of your panties or your brain. Of course, his stamina was good. Look at him. He’d catch you and tackle you down in his strong arms and carry you back to his car with ease you were sure of it. That kind of sounded like fun. God, he was so hot. If he were ugly you’d have probably tried harder to get away from him somehow. Maybe. But then again, if he were ugly you’d never have kissed him in the first place and none of this would be happening.

You drove your car to your mom’s, with Harry following behind you. You made no attempt to run or speed off with your car. It would do no good. Harry’s car was far faster than yours. It would just be a big mistake to do anything like that. Then he’d have more of a reason to keep you in his custody or send you to jail.

Harry joined you in your mother’s home. She was still in her pajamas, her hair in a bun on her head as she sipped her coffee and offered some to you both.

“Yes. That would be great. Thank you, ma’am,” Harry answered your mother. He needed some coffee for the long drive ahead. You declined.

You noticed how your mom was eyeing Harry. She’d never seen him around so you introduced him as your friend from LA. You went with the story that you’d be back in a week to get your car, and that you needed to go back to LA with Harry.

“I don’t understand. You just got here yesterday. You said you were going to stay for a week.” Your mom was disappointed. You hated disappointing her.

“I know. I’m sorry, Mom. I’ll be back, though, and then I’ll stay for the week.”

Harry drank his mug of coffee and took note of the house and everything in it. The pictures on the walls and in frames stood up near the entertainment center with you. You were a cute kid too. Harry really wanted to see your childhood bedroom. Mostly just for curiosity’s sake. He knew so much about you, yet he didn’t know the small details that made you who you were. The house and everything in it told him a different story about you, filled in some of the particulars about you that he noticed once he began to make contact with you. It was always like this with a person of interest, a suspect. There was always more to them than met the eye or what evidence and background checks could find. There was always more to the person than just a bad criminal who deserved punishment.

“What do you do for a living, Harry?” Your mom asked. She was curious about the tall, handsome stranger. She didn’t believe what you told her. She knew you were fibbing but she wouldn’t push you. She never wanted to be pushy with you, even when you were growing up. It was one of the things that made you love being around her. She let you tell her what you needed in your time.

Harry cleared his throat and placed his mug down on the kitchen counter, “I work in tech. I set up network configurations for hospitals and clinics in the US and parts of Europe. I help run project management for my clients and they like to have me in person when I set up a new configuration so I can train onsite IT or tech people,” he glanced at you and then back to your mom.

You hated lying to your mom. Not just because lying to your mom made you feel awful, but because you knew she could smell the bullshit. 

“Really…” Your mom said, leaning her hip on the counter and crossing her arms over her chest.

Harry nodded, “Yes, ma’am. It’s a good gig.”

“Sure sounds like it. So you two only recently met then is what I’m gathering,” she kept her eyes on Harry.

“Yes. We actually just met randomly,” you interjected, “I was sitting in a park drinking coffee and Harry was lost and well, anyway…” you laugh and look between Harry and your mom, “I gave him my number because I know the area well…”

“Oh, I don’t blame you for giving him your number, darling. Look at him,” She nodded toward Harry, “Sorry, Harry,” she quickly said, “I just can see that you’re an attractive man is all.”

Harry chuckled and shook his head, smiling at your mom with his dimple making its appearance.

“Well, we should really be going. I just need to grab my bag,” you said as you began to leave the kitchen. You didn’t want to stand there and lie to your mom anymore. And plus, you were still reeling from the hot kiss you shared with Harry so everything felt very confusing for you. You’d barely had time to process anything.

When you got back into the kitchen, rolling your bag behind you Harry and your mom were standing closer and she was laughing at something he’d just said.

Your mom turned to look at you, “Harry was telling me how he just found out you hate orange juice.”

You cinched your brows together and glared at Harry, “Yeah. He ordered me a liter-sized cup and was surprised when I told him I didn’t want it. It’s disgusting.”

Your mom and Harry laughed again as if they were good buddies sharing old stories about you.

Before you left you promised your mom you’d return the following week. She still didn’t understand why you were leaving exactly, but she sighed and gave you hug, “Call me if you need anything, Y/n. I love you, honey,” she spoke into your ear when you hugged her goodbye.

When you and Harry got onto Highway 5, headed South toward LA there were few words spoken. You were feeling things that were very complex, but so was Harry. Clearly, you were both attracted to one another. But your goals were not aligned. Harry was a detective and you were in trouble for a serious crime.

And it was confusing mostly because you didn’t know what to expect. You had a feeling he was not being totally honest with you. That perhaps you weren’t meant to really be in his custody. But what could you do? No one would believe you over a cop. And there was a part of you that sort of thrived off the potential for adventure and drama. You were a career thief after all. Excitement and making bad decisions were sort of your thing. Maybe that’s the real reason you didn’t try harder to get away or to alert someone to what Harry was doing. Or… and this was a big OR… he was doing everything by the book and had a solid reason to keep you in his custody and he just wasn’t telling you why.

From your conversations with him, he mentioned he fucked up, and that he had nothing substantial on you. But you weren’t totally sure of how this sort of thing worked. And you felt like you could trust Harry not to hurt you. At the very least.

When Harry looked over at you after an hour and a half of driving he realized you were so quiet because you were asleep. Cute when she’s quiet. He thought to himself.

He’d really dug himself into a deep hole with you. He didn’t know what he was going to do once he got you back to LA. He’d take you to your apartment and perhaps search for clues. If he could find a watch or jewelry that you’d stolen then that would be all the evidence he’d need. He noted the gold bracelets on your left arm and wondered if you stole them.

He reached his right hand out and put the tip of his middle finger on one of the bracelets to push them apart. He watched the road, then looked to your wrist, then back at the road.  You had five on. They were thin and had different finishes and textures. Some were slightly thinner than others.

Suddenly the car thunked over something and the wheel turned hard to the left, causing the vehicle to veer over the lanes and into oncoming traffic.

Harry tried correcting the wheel but the car was traveling at about 60 miles per hour and it was nearly impossible to bring the car back to the right.

He had been lucky there were no other cars on that stretch of road at that very moment. The car came to a screeching halt on the opposite side of the road facing the opposite direction you’d been headed. Harry gripped the wheel tight and looked over at you as he placed the car in park.

You blinked your eyes open when you felt what you thought was Harry making a sharp turn. But when you moved your head to look at Harry you saw him looking at you and the car was stopped just off the highway on the shoulder.

“What’s going on?” You asked as you stretched your arms overhead. You weren’t yet aware of what had just happened.

“Stay here,” Harry spoke quickly as he unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car. He went to the front and you watched as he checked his tires and then slammed his hands down on the hood of his car, “FUCK!”

Harry ducked down and inspected closer and all you could see was the top of his head, his dark curls looking like he’d styled his hair that way but you knew he woke up looking like that. Disgustingly handsome.

Harry rounded the vehicle and got back in, his heavy body falling into the driver’s seat and making the car jostle slightly. He slammed the door closed and plucked up his phone, dialing a number and putting the phone to his ear.

He cleared his throat and you stared at his profile, “What’s going on, Harry?”

Harry shook his head and shushed you and that pissed you right off. You weren’t one to be shushed.

You unbuckled your seatbelt and opened the car door to see for yourself what was wrong since he didn’t feel you were worth informing before making the call he was on.

Harry hopped out behind you, “Hey! What are you doing? Get back in the car, Y/n!”

You ignored him the way he ignored you. A flat tire. More than just a flat tire. He hit something big. The tire was a goner but the entire wheel would need to be replaced as well. The bumper even had damage.

You felt Harry’s hand grasp around the back of your arm and he pulled you with him back to the car, “Get back in the fucking car. I need to call someone to get a tow,” he opened the door and you yanked your arm away and shot your nastiest, meanest look at him before plopping into your seat and Harry closed the door.

It took about forty-five minutes for the tow truck to arrive. You and Harry were in a small-town North of Sacramento. The only shop that the car could be towed to wouldn’t look at the vehicle until tomorrow because they’d be closed by the time you arrived, but they were fine to let you leave the car on their lot overnight.

If you wanted to go all the way into Sacramento, that could take another hour and Harry found that he’d need to make an appointment at a shop prior to arriving. Most were booked up for the day. So, towing the vehicle to a small-town shop and waiting for them to look at it tomorrow would work just as long as there was a place to keep the car overnight. The shops in Sacramento wouldn’t allow the vehicle to be parked overnight on their lot without an appointment.

“Why don’t you just arrange something with the police? You’re a cop so you should be able to get in anywhere and have your wheel fixed. Right?” You eyed Harry in question. He was awfully quiet, and he was very angry. You could tell he was frustrated and didn’t want to be bothered.

“Because I’m not. And just because I’m a cop doesn’t mean it’ll be fixed any faster. Just…” Harry leaned his head back onto the headrest and closed his eyes, “stop. Okay? I need a break. I’m not in the mood to answer your questions right now.”

You kept silent after that. You kind of wanted to look at your phone and scroll through social media. Text Raechel. Read a book you downloaded. Anything.

But Harry took your phone before you got on the road. He said it was to make sure you didn’t try anything. Even after kissing you the way he did, meeting your mom, and seeing how you didn’t speed off in your car, he still held his hand out and told you to give him your phone before he backed out of your mother’s driveway.

So, you sighed and crossed your arms over your chest, and turned to face the window. You stayed like that until the tow truck arrived, hopping out the moment it backed up in front of the car.

“Goddamnit! Why do you need to jump out of the vehicle like that? Just… fuck…” Harry said as he ran up behind you.

You didn’t respond nor look at him. He was being a dick and you weren’t going to give him even an inch of your attention. He didn’t want to talk so you weren’t going to engage with him.

You and Harry squeezed into the cab of the truck. It was a bench seat that could fit no more than three people. You sat in the middle and the guy driving took you to the shop that said they’d look at the car in the morning.

Harry’s body was warm and solid and it felt really nice. You ignored the way your mind began racing with the possibilities of that evening. You knew you two were going to need to stay overnight in the small town. Harry hadn’t told you that but you’d come to your own conclusions when you heard him talking to people on the phone about at least letting him keep the vehicle parked overnight.

A half-hour later, the car was being placed on the lot and Harry paid the man who then drove off and left you and Harry alone again. Harry turned his back to you as he walked toward the car. He pulled out his bag and your suitcase from the trunk and a few other things in his glove box and backseat. You stayed away. To give him space. To give yourself space. You paced on the concrete pad near the shop as he leaned against his car and fiddled with his phone. You imagined he was looking for a place to stay or calling an Uber or taxi or something.

“Fuck!” His booming voice startled you and you turned to look at him. Now he was standing and pacing. Harry was not in a good mood.

But of course, he wasn’t. Everything that had happened, everything that had gone wrong, was all his fault. If he hadn’t approached you at Liberty Park that day none of this would be happening. In fact, he might have caught you already and had you in custody (legally) and probably in jail. But now? Now he was fucked in the middle of bumfuck nowhere with his case blown, a criminal in tow, no car, and no motel nearby. And now no cell reception.

You rolled your eyes and took a deep breath. Perhaps he needed help. This was in your best interest as well to see if you could assist. You hesitated at first, thinking how funny it would be if he couldn’t get a taxi or a hotel, but then the thought burst when you remembered you were with him and you’d much prefer to sleep in a motel than in a car in a shop lot.

“Want me to see if I can find a place…?” you spoke as you neared him but Harry put his hand up.

“Shhh… Stop. I’m fine. I’ve got it taken care of.”

He didn’t actually.

Twenty minutes later you realized Harry was glancing in your direction. You felt his eyes on you so you turned to look at him, “What?”

Harry scratched the back of his neck and sighed, “Can I borrow your phone to look for a motel? Looks like you’ve got better service than I do out here.”

You rolled your eyes and shrugged, “You have it in your possession so go for it.”

Harry huffed at your remark and the way you were snide with him, “Don’t get annoyed with me. I’m doing my best here,” Harry countered.

You walked back toward the shop, the loose gravel underfoot moving and rolling when you placed your foot down. You sat on the stoop and looked up to see Harry walking toward you.

He held your phone up to you, “Can you unlock it?”

You tapped the phone and put your face in the view and it unlocked right away. Harry sat down on the stoop next to you and began looking for a place to stay. There were very few options and the only motel that seemed to be open was a half hour out. But it was your best bet. Harry called the motel and you could hear someone on the other line, chipper and squawky. Harry winced at the noise and you laughed to yourself at his reaction.

“Yes, hi. I’m looking for a room for the night. Do you have anything available?”

You kept your eyes on Harry. The voice on the phone rattled off at least five or six sentences and Harry sighed, “Yes. That’s great. Uh… anything with two beds?” He glanced over at you before looking down at his lap.

You stood up and walked away back toward his car. You really didn’t feel like being near him. He was mean when he was in a bad mood and it was making you feel angry as well. You hated to feel angry. Especially when the anger was no good in this situation.

You leaned against Harry’s car and watched the road. There were no cars to be seen driving around this area. You could hear the sound of an interstate or highway off in the distance but couldn’t see it. There was a grass lot across the street and a small empty fenced parking lot up further off the road.

“Okay. We’ve got a room. I’m going to call a taxi to get us there,” Harry spoke as he walked toward you.

Harry used your phone to call a local taxi company. Uber wasn’t available.

When Harry locked your phone he slid it into his back pocket and leaned on his car next to you and crossed his arms over his chest.

It was silent. Which was preferred. You didn’t want to hear him make any more comments or say something out of anger.

Your phone began to ring after about five minutes of peace and Harry pushed himself off the car and lifted your phone to his ear, “Hello?”

Harry began walking toward the shop and you followed because you were curious. On the front door of the shop was the street number and Harry spoke it into the receiver and paused, “Yeah. Okay. Great. Thank you. We’ll be here.”

He locked your phone again and put it back into his pocket and then walked past you toward his car.

You followed.

“Was that the taxi? When will they be here?” You asked, frustrated that Harry wasn’t giving you any information.

Harry stopped and turned, “Yes. Twenty minutes.”

You frowned at him, “Why are you treating me like this is my fault? I didn’t do anything wrong here Harry.”

Harry rolled his eyes and grumbled something under his breath as he turned away to continue walking back to his car, “Because you’re difficult and you’re a criminal that I can’t trust but have to keep with me. So I’m not having the best day when it’s got to be shared with someone like you.”

You stopped in your tracks. That kind of hurt, actually. You wouldn’t admit that to Harry but the fact that he just made it sound like you were some low-life criminal who was a burden to him made you feel sour in your stomach. You turned and walked back toward the shop to sit on the stoop and wait for the taxi. You didn’t want to be next to Harry for 20 minutes in silence.

The sun was bright and warm in the sky. It felt nice on your skin. You hadn’t changed or showered, or even brushed your teeth and when you began to sweat the tiniest bit you were beginning to look forward to getting to a motel room, even if you had to share it with Harry. A shower would feel nice.

The taxi pulled into the lot and Harry lifted his bag and your suitcase and popped them into the trunk of the white car with large lettering on the side RAAHAUGE TAXI SERVICE.

You slid into the back seat and Harry got into the passenger seat in the front.

Bob was the driver. He was nice. Talkative. Harry was annoyed, you could tell, but he was nice and made conversation with him. It was good to know Harry wasn’t mean to everyone he was annoyed by. Just you.

When you got to the Arbuckle Inn Harry was quick to get out of the car and get your things from the trunk. You bid Bob farewell and hopped out to follow Harry to the office of the motel.

Inside it was dark and the carpet was beige and there was a drip coffee maker with powdered cream, red straws, sugar packets, and tiny white Styrofoam cups on a bench. You decided you were ready for a little coffee. Your stomach was feeling better. In fact, you were starting to get hungry, but you just knew telling Harry that you were hungry would make him angry so you stuck with lobby motel coffee and powdered creamer to tide you over until he was ready for food.

Harry was given a room key with a bright green key chain attached with the words A Better You printed in white.

The room was at the end of the property near the road. There was only one bed and the TV was from the 90s. The dark green shag carpet was dusty and the beige curtains were too. You pressed your hand on the bed and this time, it felt like a mattress. Not the best mattress, but anything was better than the one you attempted to sleep on earlier.

Harry put his bag on the end of the bed and began rifling through it. You excused yourself to the bathroom.

The bathroom was just as charming as the room. The toilet, sink, and tub had blue porcelain and the mirror that was tacked to the wall above the sink was yellowed at the edges and cracked. The shower curtain was due for burning, but it would only be for a night. You couldn’t get too picky you supposed.

You brushed your teeth and splashed your face with water and heard your stomach grumble.

Back in the room, Harry was lying on his back on the bed with his eyes closed and his hands clasped together behind his head. He popped an eye open when you opened the door.

“Shower up, take a nap, watch TV. Whatever you need. We’ll figure something out for food later. I saw a small convenience store just up the road before we got dropped off.

You nodded silently and went through your suitcase to gather up something to wear. It was warm out and you needed to cool down.

You pulled out your soft pajama shorts and a black t-shirt along with your toiletries bag, “You don’t need to go to the bathroom before I step in do you?” You asked the man who was taking up a significant portion of the bed.

He shook his head and closed his eyes.

The shower was exactly what you needed. It felt so good to wash your body and your hair. When you got out of the shower you brushed your teeth again for good measure.

You ran lotion over your skin and moisturized your face and then just as you were about to put your clothes on, Harry was knocking at the bathroom door.

“What’s taking so long?”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. What an asshole.

“I’ll be out in one minute,” you shouted through the door as you slid your shorts up your legs and put your toiletries back into their rightful spot. You tucked your dirty clothes under your arm and opened the door. Harry was standing right there looking as angry as ever.

You ignored him, walking right past to your suitcase to put your things away.

Harry stood behind you and you jumped when you realized he was so close, “Get on the bed.”

You furrowed your brows and shook your head, “No. Why?”

Harry lifted the handcuffs and raised his brow, “Because it’s my turn to use the bathroom and I need to make sure you don’t run off. On the bed,” he pointed behind you.

“Can you at least let me have the remote for the TV?” You said, pointing toward the table the TV was sitting on, the remote right next to it.

Harry closed his eyes and then nodded in annoyance, “Yes. Sit.”

You sat down and Harry took your wrist and cuffed it to the headboard and then tossed the remote to you before he disappeared behind the bathroom door. You noted that he didn’t take any toiletries. You wondered if he brought any or if he’d just forgotten to bring them into the bathroom.

You clicked the TV on and it took a second for the screen to brighten. When the screen had warmed up you flipped through the channels for a bit until you landed on something somewhat entertaining.

You heard the water from the shower in the bathroom turn on and then you settled your back into your pillows, or what you assumed were your pillows since you were cuffed to that particular side.

The bed felt nice under your body. You closed your eyes but you remained conscious. It just felt good to stretch your legs on a comfortable bed and your eyes were a bit heavy too.

Not long after you’d felt yourself relax totally into the bed you heard the bathroom door open. You opened your eyes and noticed Harry was only in a towel wrapped around his waist. He quickly went to his bag and pulled out some clothes before glancing at you and then walking back into the bathroom, and closing the door.

You were unsure of how to feel. There was something between you and Harry, obviously. Attraction at the very least but that didn’t count for much. You did trust him but he didn’t trust you, you thought to yourself as you looked at your cuffed wrist. Which didn’t feel good. Especially after what he said about having to keep you with him. Like you were that bad. As if you’d really gone out of your way for all this.

Harry reappeared, dressed in sweatpants and a white t-shirt. His hair was wet, which was also attractive. Unlike your own wet hair. You hated how you looked with wet hair. Not cute.

Harry moved his bag off the bed and onto the wooden chair next to his side of the room. He walked around the bed toward you and this made you sit up as you watched him. He pulled a key from his pocket and clicked it into the cuff on your wrist and released the spring so your arm was free. You rubbed at your wrist as you watched Harry turn and walk back to the other side of the bed, sitting down and putting his back to the headboard, stuffing his pillows behind him. He stared ahead at the TV screen.

Annoying. He was the one that was annoying.

After a few minutes, Harry cleared his throat and you could see from your peripheral that he turned his head toward you but you didn’t move your neck to look back at him.

 “I’m sorry,” was all he said. You saw him turn his head back toward the TV.

You sat for a moment to think about his “apology”. But it only made you angry. Sorry? Did he think that’s all he needed to do to make himself feel better for how he’d treated you?

Finally, after you began to imagine yourself punching him in the jaw a few good times, you turned to look at him, his hair still damp and drying, “For what?” You crossed your arms over your chest. You wanted a real apology.

Harry took a deep breath and you saw his jaw clench, the one you wanted to punch really good and he turned to face you. His soft green irises on your face, “For how I treated you. I…” he pursed his lips, “was rude to you because I was frustrated and wanted someone to take it out on. But none of this your fault.”

You kept your arms crossed over your chest, not letting your guard down, “Oh? And so you don’t think I’m an annoying burden you’re forced to bring along on this trip? You don’t mind someone like me here with you? I’m the one who’s been forced into this situation, by the way.”

Harry inhaled deep through his nose, his face set in a serious expression, “I don’t think that you’re a burden. No.”

You pressed your back into your pillows and set your eyes back on the TV screen. You guessed that was something. The apology would probably be all you’d get from him.

“And for this morning. When I kissed you. That was inappropriate and I don’t what’s gotten into me. So, for all of it. Sorry.”

You looked down at your lap and shook your head. This whole mess was weird and unfortunate. Confusing.

The silence was awkward and uncomfortable between you two. The TV was obnoxious with commercials that seemed to go on longer than the episodes of I Dream of Jeannie.

When your stomach growled Harry turned to look at you, “Hungry?”

You nodded, “Mhmm…” but kept your sight on the TV.

Harry sighed waiting for you to look at him but when you didn’t he felt himself get frustrated at you again. He knew he deserved your cold shoulder but he didn’t like it. He wasn’t used to being treated this way by women.

You could feel his frustration. You knew he didn’t like your little attitude but you weren’t a pushover. An apology was nice but he’d need to start being kind to you. Harry was hot as fuck but that didn’t mean you would go easy on him. Not at all. In fact, because he was so attractive you found it more fun to fuck with him a bit. But he also deserved it.

“Look at me,” he said.

You scoffed and shook your head before turning to look at him with your brows raised in annoyance.

“Why are you so difficult? This is a hard situation and your attitude is not making this any easier.”

You cocked your head to the side and squinted your eyes at him before you allowed a mocking smile to take over your features, “Me? Difficult? Never. You on the other hand, Harry… quite an asshole if I do say so myself. You’re the one who’s making this situation worse than it needs to be. You should get over yourself.”

Harry’s nostrils flared and he took a deep breath, “You’re a criminal, Y/n. You seem to keep forgetting that. I am treating you far better than any other cop would. You should be thankful.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes, “Oh god, you’re right. Thank you so much, Harry. You are my hero. My savior. Should I suck you off now so you really understand how grateful I am to you for keeping me in your custody?”

The look Harry gave you was quite intimidating. You immediately regretted your words when he stood from the bed and turned the TV off. He stood at the end of the bed, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Harry had not really met anyone quite as mouthy as you, except for his sister. Most people quickly acquiesced to Harry’s wishes. Even before he was a cop. Harry’s natural charisma and character kept people very compliant and easy to deal with for most of his life. Harry usually got whatever he wanted if he just asked for it (within reason of course). But when he donned his uniform or told anyone he was a cop, well, there was never any argument. No one back-talked him or questioned him. No one mouthed off to him in jest or sarcasm. Your attitude wasn’t something he really knew how to navigate.

You were sure you should keep your mouth shut but you couldn’t help but goad him, “Nothing is wrong with me, Harry. I’m just great. I love being held captive by a cop who probably doesn’t have a reason to hold me. I love being forced to lie to my mom about what’s going on. I love being kissed and touched by someone who actually despises me and finds me to be less than he is. This back-and-forth is just amazing for my confidence. I thrive off of being degraded and treated like I’m shit.”

“Stop!” Harry shouted and you startled a bit at his volume. He was pissed. Harry ran a hand through his hair and walked toward the window. He looked out and then turned back to you, “Yes. This is not ideal. I know how terrible this feels for you to be forced to come with me. But if it were any other cop on this case they would have let you go with Oregano,” he spoke the name as if it were an annoying word to say, “to let him do god-knows-what to you because intervening like I did means the case could be blown. I did that for you!”

You sat with your mouth closed. That was true. He did get you out of that mess and risked all of the work he’d done on the investigation. You understood his frustration but you didn’t understand why he was being so cold toward you. It also hurt your feelings that he kissed you and then went on to practically ignore you once you got on the road back to LA. One moment he was flirting with you and smirking with that dimpled smile and the next he was bossing you around and telling you how he couldn’t trust someone like you. You needed him to understand you were frustrated as well. He wasn’t the only one with feelings.

You got off the bed and put your hands on your hips, “I know. I thanked you for helping me, Harry. And what you did was your choice. I never asked for that so the idea that I somehow owe you my sweetness and obedience is absurd. Thank you. Okay? I truly appreciate what you did.” You stepped toward him so you could get a better look at his face, “What else do you want from me? You can’t just flirt with me and kiss me one moment and then treat me like garbage the next. I’m a real person with feelings too. None of what happened was my fault. So why are you being so mean to me?”

Harry pulled his lips into his mouth and looked down, walking toward the window and then back toward the TV nodding his head in thought. You watched him as he turned and walked away again toward the window, head down and then he stopped. You moved toward him, anticipating that he’d turn around to answer you. You wanted to see his face as he spoke.

“Because I don’t know how to deal with you. And I’m not trying to be mean to you or anything, that’s just because I’ve never… fucked up like this before. Not with someone like you…”

You scoffed, “Someone like me. You asshole…”

Harry turned quickly cutting off your words, “No. That’s not what I meant. Someone like you means… like… you’re just not like anyone else. You’re rude, you lie, you steal, you talk back, and your whole attitude is sardonic. But none of that is bad,” Harry ran his hand through his hair with his eyes on yours, “it’s just different and I’m not used to it and I don’t know how to deal with it.”

You’d met plenty of men who didn’t like your little attitude. Your mom always told you never to trust men who didn’t like it or who tried to tamper with it. She always told you that if a man deserved you, he’d learn to understand you and would even love you more for it. So hearing Harry tell you this was no surprise. Not to mention you were pretty sure he rarely got defiance from anyone. Harry was tall, broad, and intimidating with a deep voice, and searing bright green eyes. Plus he was a cop.

“Okay. Fair enough. I’ve heard I’m hard to deal with. But why kiss me and do whatever it was that you did? What was that about? Is this a job for you or not?”

Harry pursed his lips to the side and nodded before answering, “I don’t know,” he took a small step in your direction, his eyes were soft and his lips were parted the smallest bit. You noticed he had the smallest spattering of facial hair over his top lip and just beginning at his jawline and chin.

You stayed silent as he kept his eyes on yours. He looked like he was still in thought, trying to figure out how to answer you. His jaw clenched and he drew his eyes down to your black t-shirt then back up, “I’m sorry. I… there’s probably a great answer here somewhere but I can’t find it. I only can say that I’m…” you watched his throat bob as he swallowed, “an idiot probably. I like you more than I should actually. You’re cute and smart, and well,” he reached his hand up and scratched the back of the neck, “I kind of like the way you confront me and how you’re not scared of me. So I’m caught off guard because I shouldn’t be feeling this way. Because this is supposed to be a job.”

You weren’t expecting his answer. It only confused you further. You stitched your brows together as you listened to him. You felt like everything he just said was a compliment. Like what you’d want any handsome man to tell you. Except for the job part, but still.

Harry reached a hand up toward your face and pressed his thumb between your creased eyebrows, “I’m not doing anything but making you miserable, it’s not fair to you.”

You brought a hand up and placed it over Harry’s wrist to pull his touch away. The intimate nature of what he’d just done had you perplexed. Yes, he’d kissed you and had even eaten you out (before you realized he was a cop), but there was something between you two. Maybe it was just pure attraction. But there was something so absorbing and provoking about him. Something that had you excited and drawn in.

You heard his deep exhale and watched his lips turn downward with the smallest pout. He thought he’d overstepped but you shook your head, “I’m not miserable. I’m… a little curious about what’s going to happen. I just don’t want to go to jail, Harry,” you looked between his eyes as you spoke, “You’re confusing is all.”

Harry looked down to where you’d placed your hand on his wrist and back up to you, “I’m confused by you too.”

The moment lasted for minutes. There was no air between you two when you looked into his soft green eyes. It had happened before. It was like he had you enchanted. But he clearly felt the same. As if there wasn’t anything to stop the chemical reaction between you two. You both tried. God, you both denied yourselves and had been able to pull away but there was only so much strength you had left. When you were forced to be in close proximity to him, looking at him with his wet hair and hungry eyes…

“Harry…” you spoke his name softly, quietly when he took the smallest step in toward you, a hand finding your jaw, his thumb at your cheek. His fingers grasped the side of your neck.

You couldn’t stop the way your limbs were filled with currents and buzzed with electricity when he brought another hand up to cup your other cheek. Everything felt hazy, exciting, and wanton.

“Y/n…” his voice was just as soft as yours and he said your name as if it were a question. As if he was asking your permission for what you both knew was to come next.

You knew he shouldn’t. You shouldn’t. It was better to treat this as what it was. But how would you be able to resist him when he couldn’t resist you for some reason? You weren’t sure where the instinctive draw came from. But if he felt it when he touched you, the way you felt it when his finger touched your cheek it was not something to be easily denied. Not anymore. Not when you had nowhere to go. Not when he was in so deep.

Harry’s face drew near to yours slowly. You both understood what was happening. The grumble in your tummy had been replaced with a new hunger the moment he touched you. He had gotten you all riled up and angry, and you’d done the same to him, but the derivative was that you both wanted the same thing in the end. Even if you shouldn’t. And that had you both on edge. Mad even.

“I fucking don’t know what I’m doing here,” Harry spoke his words in breaths that fell warm against your lips when you closed your eyes as his face was too close to keep eye contact any longer. You felt the tip of his nose nudge yours and the moment you turned to nudge your nose into his your lips met again. The push and pull of the kiss, the heat of anger and confusion, the twinkling of need and want and lust as the undercurrent of everything all culminated into an aggressive embrace that felt deprived and needy. Maybe even a bit ridiculous given the circumstances.

You pushed Harry down onto the bed. Your hands couldn’t seem to find a proper landing place. Neither could his. Your tongue and wet lips would not stop their assault. Harry moaned when he felt the bed under his back and he pulled you over him. You had very few thoughts in your brain but all you knew was that Harry was a good kisser. Yes, it was a bit wet and raucous but he put emotion into it which sent your body afloat. You placed your palms over his t-shirt-covered pecs and pushed yourself up. Harry had his hands on your hips, squeezing.

You watched him closely as you started to pull the bottom hem of his t-shirt upward to peel it off. Harry shifted under you and pulled at his shirt, sitting up a bit to finish taking it off. Then he took your black t-shirt and slowly began to move it upward. You lifted your hands over your head and the cotton material was gone in a flash. You hadn’t bothered with a bra or panties under your clean clothes. You weren’t really sure why mostly because it was hot out and even inside the motel room you were a bit sticky from the heat.

Harry’s hands moved upward from your waist to your breasts, his thumbs circling your nipples softly. You stayed perched in his lap and watched his large hands encase your tits. You weren’t sure what to do with your own hands as you placed them on his shoulders and closed your eyes, allowing yourself to just be in the moment. You didn’t know how long Harry would allow this to continue. Perhaps he’d stop again like he had the last time.

When you felt his wet lips kiss the tip of your left nipple you sighed and put your fingers into his hair. You hoped to a god you didn’t believe in that he’d just let you have him for the night. That he wouldn’t stop.

Harry moved his mouth to your right nipple, gently licking and kissing just the tip which left you with goosebumps and a carnal need to be devoured by him. You knew what his mouth was capable of and you wouldn’t mind having it again.

When he moved his mouth upward over your clavicle and to your neck, slowly then to your jaw you tugged at his hair to pull him back. You needed to look him in the eyes to speak, “Please don’t stop, Harry. I can’t handle it anymore,” your words were cut short when Harry’s mouth landed on yours and he cradled you close to his chest before moving you down to the bed, your back hitting the comforter below.

Harry didn’t answer you with words but his lips on your skin were all that you needed to know he wasn’t planning on stopping. Not this time anyway. With the delicate pucker of his lips under your jawline and his hands softly dragging down the sides of your body you felt his fingers find the elastic of your waistband before he moved his hands upward again to your arms and moved them above your head.

With his hips squared with yours, he gently lowered himself between your legs, causing you to part your thighs to give him room.

“Ahhh!” You moaned when you felt him stiff over your center. He softly rutted himself downward over you and your hips instinctively lifted upward toward him, pressing your crotch to his already thickened prick.

Harry moved a hand from where he was holding your arms above your head and grasped your outer thigh, moving it flat to the bed as he continued pressing kisses to your lips and licking into your mouth. Harry gasped in between kissing and lapping at your mouth before he began to move downward again. He stopped when he met the top of your ribs under your breasts and looked up at you, “I’m gonna lick your kitty again. Make you come. And if you still want me I’m gonna fuck you,” another kiss to your skin and a gasp from your lips with his eyes still on yours, “keep your hands above your head.”

So you did what the detective wanted. You kept your arms lying flat above your head as Harry’s lips moved down slowly, warm and wet, soft.

Your shorts were easily dragged down and off your legs, leaving you bare before him. You still hadn’t shaved your pussy or trimmed even. You also hadn’t shaved your legs since the night you went to the Warwick so you were a bit prickly. But Harry didn’t seem to mind any of it. He sat back, his large hands grasping the back of your knees, making you bend your legs as he pushed your thighs together and knees toward your chest.

He began by kissing the back of your thighs. The way he was drawing it out was making you crazy. You wanted his big mouth on your pussy again but he wasn’t giving you what you wanted so fast. When you groaned and craned your neck up to see him, you could only see the top of his brown curls until it disappeared as he kissed lower, your legs in the way. With your hands above your head, you couldn’t lean up to watch him as you wanted, so you just laid your head back and closed your eyes to let him work his magic. You knew it was magic because the first time he ever ate you out he made you come. Which isn’t typical of any guy. There’s usually quite a learning curve.

When Harry settled himself down further you heard him inhale and then speak, “Tasted so good the other night. Needed to get my face between your legs again,” he dabbed a kiss flat over your slit and you moaned, trying to pull your head up to see him, but he was now lowered over your pussy and with your knees bent up to your chest you couldn’t see his face, only his shoulders and arms.

The moment his tongue found your crease and dug in and upward you were lost. Like a soul floating in the atmosphere, wandering the earth in search of a body to possess. It wasn’t long before Harry released your legs and his fingers were submerged into your warm entrance. You were so needy. It had been too long since you’d really been with anyone. You spent so much time luring and thieving that you didn’t do a lot of fucking.

Harry’s tongue and his fingers on you were a joy to your body. The noises you were making had him chuckling and smiling as he continued sucking your clit and fucking you with his fingers. It had also been long forgotten that you were meant to keep your hands above your head because your fingers were in Harry’s hair as you were bucking upward and panting his name. Harry had one free hand which he used on himself, you noted because now you could see him since your legs were spread apart and Harry had pushed his joggers down past his hips. You could see his shoulder and his arm moving in a steady rhythm, he was stroking himself as he was making you come in his mouth with a shout. A ridiculous noise left your lungs when you quivered and tried to close your thighs around his head, but Harry didn’t stop until you calmed. Your chest was heaving in harsh breaths when Harry sat up, his hands still down the front of his sweats, stroking himself slowly.

“Let me give you a blow job, Harry,” you sat up and placed your hand where his was. Your other hand pushed at his joggers to bring them down further and Harry’s darkened pupils and wet lips were sultry and you just wanted to show him your gratitude.

Harry began to shake his head no but you pushed him at his chest gently and sat up to your knees, “Let me, at least a little. Want to taste you more in my mouth then you can fuck me,” you looked up to his darkened eyes with a small smile, “plus I could use a few minutes.”

Harry smiled, a closed-mouth smile, one side of his mouth quirked up a little more as he leaned back and pushed his sweatpants off and then spread his legs for you. You rearranged yourself to settle in between his legs and took a deep breath.

And like the time before, you started off licking all around his long shaft and upward until you’d wetted him with your saliva and ran your tongue over his tip. Harry’s lips were parted as he watched you and you braced yourself for sticking him in your mouth. You were sure you couldn’t take him in all the way quite yet but you were gonna give it a shot.

When you wrapped your lips around his sensitive tip he let out the smallest pant and put a hand up into your hair, moving it to the side so he could keep watch. Using your tongue flat under his shaft along the vein you dipped down further, taking him into your mouth a little more and you used both of your hands to stimulate the base of his cock where you couldn’t quite get to with your mouth.

You pulled back and spit down over him, your eyes on his, and then smoothed your saliva down over him. He was nice and slick in your hand and then you sucked at his tip, running your tongue along the underside of his frenulum and dipping it into his small slit. He moaned. Finally a moan, a noise you knew was from pleasure.

You kept at it, bringing him into your mouth a little and then focusing your attention on his tip, keeping your hands on his shaft to stimulate him fully.

Each time you dipped down to bob over him for a moment you really had to open your mouth as wide as possible. He was thick and god you didn’t think you’d ever be able to take him all the way in.

You lowered yourself the tiniest bit and looked up at him for a moment and he was watching your mouth and your eyes already. He looked like he was in heaven and that’s really all you wanted. So you chanced to take him deeper and his tip scraped against the back of your throat and you gagged, pulling off of him, coughing. You kept a hand at work as you wiped your mouth and Harry smiled at you. Just before you could go back down Harry used his hand in your hair to cradle your face as he sat up, “S’enough. For now.”

“Sorry, I am out of practice, and you’re just…” you felt a little embarrassed. You were sure he’d had better. Not that you weren’t good, but Harry’s prick was not average in size, which was what you’d been used to working with in the past.

Harry chuckled and shushed you, “You’re amazing. Felt really good. We can try another time if you really want. How do you feel?”

You cleared your throat and raised your brows, “Good. Uh…” but before you finished your sentence Harry had pulled you in for a soft kiss and you tasted yourself on him. Harry’s mouth was addictive. The way he kissed you felt like you were the only person in the world. All of his affection and attention was focused on you and the kiss and it made you dizzy and unfocused. You moved your lips with his and drew his tongue into your mouth, sucking it in as you put your hands on his shoulders.

Harry pulled you in closer, his body flush against yours and his dick pressed to your tummy, warm and still damp from your saliva, “Do you want to have sex with me? I brought condoms,” Harry asked as he moved his lips against your mouth.

You nodded and squeaked out a yes when Harry grabbed your waist and nudged you down to the bed. Harry got off the bed, the mattress releasing his weight, and you pushed yourself up a little to watch him. His body was so well built. Broad and nicely muscled, soft at the edges, barely a dip where his waist met his hips. His lats were well shaped too, the man clearly worked out regularly. You knew cops had to work out, but Harry was in exceptional shape. He not only worked out for his job, but he worked out to look good too. Then the tattoos. The smattering of hair at his chest and where his happy trail gradually got thicker toward the base of his shaft. God help you.

Harry climbed back into the bed with the condom wrapper in hand lifting it up so you could see it as he tore it open and slowly positioned the rubber over his tip to roll it down his shaft as far as it would go.

Harry climbed between your legs, pushing them apart as you lowered your back down to the mattress, keeping your eyes on his, “We’ll go slow. I can tell your little pussy needs some attention, Y/n. Yeah?”

You bit your lip and nodded. Harry’s cocky smile had your heart pounding. You knew he was gonna tear you in half with that prick of his and you couldn’t wait to feel it. And he was right. Your pussy needed some attention.

Harry kissed you gently as he moved a hand to the back of your head, cradling the nape of your neck and the underside of your skull. You placed your feet flat on the mattress, knees bent and the front of Harry’s thighs were pressing into the insides of yours. He pushed himself up so he could see your face and you put a hand down between your body and his to grasp his cock. You smoothed him through your slick crease and his nostrils flared when he groaned.

“Please fuck me,” you nearly purred when Harry pushed forward and the tip of him slid to your entrance. You moved your hand once he was positioned and grabbed onto his shoulder as he continued to drive himself inward, pushing past your tight muscle and into your wet insides. Your breaths deepened, and Harry's throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly.

“Fuck…” he whispered when he drew back and plunged in deeper. He didn’t lie when he said he’d go slow. Excruciatingly slow. But it’s what you needed. To adjust to him. To really feel him as he entered you, deeper on each thrust. Your insides split apart to make way for him as he entered and drew back, pushing himself in and then out. Slow, steady strokes as you sighed and began to relax under his motions.

“Okay?” Harry breathed out the question. He was very much feeling your tight walls squeezing his condom-covered cock. But you were so wet he was easily able to slip in and out.

“Yes. It feels good, Harry…” your own words were a whisper when he continued rocking into you slowly. It did feel good. Too good. Now you’d never want to sleep with anyone average-sized again you were sure of it. Having a thick cock parting your walls and thrusting in so deep felt like sustenance. His ridges were dragging against your sensitive spots inside and reaching into you like you hadn’t felt before. It was as if all of your nerve endings were being roused by his prick as it pushed and pulled within you.

Harry dipped down to press his lips to yours, his cock continuing to slowly drill into you. You kept your legs spread, feel flat, and thrust your hips upward at each dip. Harry kept his hand at the back of your head and his other he used for leverage so he wasn’t crushing you.

His center was being wetted by you and soon, the sound of his cock plunging into your hole was slushy and sticky sounding in the room and then the noise was met with the creak of the bed underneath as Harry began to fucking into you a little faster. You’d opened up nicely for him, perfectly and he was able to press his dick in completely, totally sheathed by you.

Harry paused his strokes and pushed himself up, removing his lips from yours, “Need a second. Fuck your pussy feels good on me,” he panted his words. You moved your hands up to touch his pecs and feel his hair and the rounded muscles underneath. His nipples were hard and you wanted to suck on them but he was just out of reach with the way he hovered over you.

Harry opened his eyes and looked down at you, his lids low and his gaze dropping to your tits, “Fucking beautiful. Why are you so naughty?”

You laughed and clenched around his cock and Harry gasped and widened his eyes, “You’re begging to be punished aren’t you?” he said with a laugh.

You offered him a cheeky smile, “Of course, not detective. I’m a good girl.”

Harry licked his lips and grinned, “Yeah? Good girls like being fucked by the cop who’s gonna send them to jail?” He thrusted upward sharply causing you to yelp.

You responded your words breathy, “Maybe I don’t want to go to jail. Hoping the pussy is good enough to make you forget anything about the case,” you bit your lip.

Harry repeated his sharp thrust, the grin still on his face. Now his cock was deep inside of you, so far in that he wasn’t pulling back anymore, just digging into you further on each thrust, pushing you upward slightly. The ache it caused in your tummy was delicious and you moaned in ecstasy.

“We’ll have to see about that,” another roll of his hips upward, “but you’re still a bad girl, Y/n.”

When Harry shifted his legs he sat back a bit and dragged your hips with him, the back of your thighs were laid over the top of his so now he could watch himself plunge into you. He began to fuck into you like you were a naughty girl. It was hard and relentless. He was smacking into you, his thighs working himself in and out rapidly and your body was being rocked up and down, and tits bouncing like a rag doll. Harry began moaning a little louder, his cock was feeling the tightness of the new position, and the view he had was making him lose it. Your pussy might just be good enough to make him forget everything. Might be.

Your gasps and moans came out on each thrust of Harry into you. You grasped onto the comforter and your mouth dropped open wide when you felt his fingers press and rub your clit up and down. The sensation of being fucked hard, with a thick cock, and having your clit stimulated at the same time took your breath away. Your body wasn’t your own at that moment. The orgasm that you felt coming was not something you could stop even if you wanted to. Harry was trying to fuck an orgasm out of you because he was about to come himself. Your body and your attitude, your noises, and your hot wet pussy were insane. He was losing control. But he had no wherewithal. Not at that moment. He didn’t want it. He only wanted you and his release.

If you had neighbors, they certainly could hear you. There was no mistaking what was happening in Room 8 at the Arbuckle Inn. Not only were the walls thin and old, but the bed was also rocking, and Harry was fucking into you so good and hard that the thud of skin smacking was almost louder than your own moans and Harry’s grunts and gasps. But god it felt so good to get fucked. Finally. And it wasn’t just getting fucked by anyone. Harry’s attention to detail was phenomenal. He knew to get your clit in on the action too. So many times you’d been getting it good by some guy but you usually had to help yourself in the clit department. But Harry played your body exactly like it needed to be played.

Harry held your left thigh in place as your right thigh slid off of his thigh down to the mattress, your body rocking up and down on each of his plunges. He never stopped moving his fingers.

When you felt the soft tickle of your orgasm begin to blossom over your center and outward toward your thighs you sucked in a sharp breath and felt your legs shake. Harry let out a moan, so loud and so sexy when he looked down and saw your body tremble as he pounded into you. His moan caused you to tip, your small entrance muscle tightening and pulsing and your walls clenching over his cock as he continued to push into you, feeling you squeeze around him as you came with a cry.

Harry didn’t wait for his own release, he choked out a moan and poured into his condom, thrusting upward harshly into your cunt, dipping deep into you, imagining his come coating your cervix and your slick walls, his balls tucked up against his body, releasing his come.

Sex. That’s what you needed. Real sex. Not just a dildo you pumped into your pussy while watching something on Pornhub. Sex. Sex with a man. Sex with Harry.

You both breathed heavily and Harry’s weight over your chest felt hot but comforting. His chest rose and fell rapidly and you could feel his heart pounding in his chest. You put your hands on his back and softly rubbed your palm over his smooth skin. Harry moaned and nuzzled his face into your neck, his arms moving up to cradle your head. It felt nice to be held. Even if it didn’t mean anything. Even if Harry was still taking you to jail. The sex and the affection were something you’d been missing.

But it was no different for Harry. He hadn’t had sex with anyone in a couple of months. Not since he’d started seriously working your case. He’d been busy and hadn’t had time for a fun night out with a quick lay. And even a quick lay didn’t always do it for him. He had no trouble getting someone to fuck. Which wasn’t always his favorite way. He liked a bit of a challenge, and always preferred someone with a bit of fire under their personality. But that was not always so easy to come by. Many women were easy and sweet and that was nice for a quick thing but it didn’t feel like anything more than just sex. Sex with you was forbidden and fiery. Your attitude drove him nuts but it made his cock twitch and his heart race.

“This is nice,” he spoke into your neck and you nodded and hummed.

When he lifted his head his hair was a mess and his cheeks were pink. You loved his bright, clear green eyes. Harry could very well be the most attractive man you’d ever met. Or maybe it was just the post-orgasm bliss you were feeling.

“Yeah. Needed that,” you whispered when you drew your hands up into his hair.

Harry’s brows stitched together and he swallowed, his throat bobbing. He looked at you with worry on his face, “I’m fucked.”

In more ways than one, detective.

Part 4*

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