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#he lost his jacket somewhere. Lol.

something-about-sunflowers · 9 months

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ALRIGHT, *cracks knuckles* let's get into that teaser, shall we?

Should I itemize this? I think I'm going to itemize it lmao.

So:

Starting here because this is a baseline for Stede, he's got no neckerchief here. This is likely early in the season, probably the very start.

Man's got a fuckin' ARM.

This is Ed. You can see the bare right arm in both shots.

Red neckerchief. Ed's scrap of silk? Beat to shit if it is, which, he did toss it out to sea so, it would be.

Ed's not wearing the knee brace. Or gloves for that matter. I know the knee brace being an actual mobility aid is unconfirmed canon/fanon but it does make me :(c to see him without it. Either it wasn't actually considered as a mobility aid or he's lost it like he's lost his gloves OR he's going without it because he doesn't care if it hurts.

Closer shot of the neckerchief.

I just wanted to point out all the knives stabbed into the table. Also, those look like bits of paper on the windows, did they keep some of the books to repurpose for window blocking purposes?

THERE HE IS!!!!!!!! Other people have already pointed out the makeup and his ring still on his tie, along with the whip on his hip cjizzy real. He's got a new baldric but I also think his clothes look. Darker? Than in season 1? This is a darker/heavier contrast setting but it carries into other shots of him too I think? Like they're less sun/saltwater faded or something?

Other thing to note: If I have my orientation right, this is to the right of Stede's bed nook and to the left of the library, which means this shelf is the one with the auxiliary wardrobe opening mechanism. Which I bring up because:

This little guy seems to be in the place of the mannequin. Ed kept the auxiliary wardrobe and gothed up the mannequin to justify it still being there.

SO much here. This is, I'm fairly certain, Benjamin Hornigold. This camp he's set up (along with what he's wearing) looks like it was made out of a shipwreck. Ed's barefoot and missing his jacket and gloves, and his shirt's torn up at the sleeves. Definitely where he washed up from his dip in the ocean.

Note the trees and the lighting, that comes up later. Ed shoots here and Ben moves with the shot but it doesn't look like he was actually HIT by it to my eyes.

'Wanted. |Blackbeard| Villainous Pirate. Murderer, thrice over. $400 Reward for the criminal responsible for: theft - brigandry - larceny - arson - tax evasion ➡' Presumably there are more crimes/info on the back, though we see the reverse side in the next cut and it's either blank or all in very small text, I couldn't quite tell.

The poster to the right says 'Port' something which has me wondering Port Royal but that's just the only 'Port' something I know, could def be somewhere else.

(Also, just for fun:

Here's how much abouts Ed's capture would be worth now.)

Wider pic than it needs to be but I didn't wanna cut out Olu lol. ANYWAY. Neckerchief again. Also the back of the poster, see what I mean about it either being blank or very tiny?

Babygirl. . . But also that Bride Ed figure kinda slays. Little bralette with the midriff showing, I see you Babygirl. When will he be allowed to just rest and do silly little crafts WITHOUT heartbreak looming over him?

Well. Four is not nine. So. There's that. The other five could be used or out of frame though, of course.

OH. He's back to his fingerless gloves! They might actually be different from his original ones though, they look different at the wrist to me, not quite sure though.

The BOYS!!!! Frenchie looks like he's having a GREAT time. Considering he suggested they turn the hostage into a table and complained about the Republic of Pirates being a bit gentrified I'd say this is more in line with what he's used to in piracy. I 100% buy he was going along with Stede's way because he knew it was an easy ride compared to real piracy. This wouldn't necessarily be a return to form for him but definitely something he's more used to? And he gets to be kitty :3c

And FANG!!! Look at him showing a bit more skin!! Good for him!!

Everybody say 'Thank You David Jenkins'. Right now. Look at this Mad Max shit. Fuckin' Imperator Jimenez right there. LOVE that tye added the 'beard' after the 'fuck's wrong with your face?' bit in 1x10. Full 'it looked weird on you but I slay' energy.

Jim

Izzy

Fang

Near as I can tell at least. I can't make out if Frenchie is in the shot and I'm pretty positive Ed isn't cause he stayed by the cake when they charged in.

Man, yknow I know we were all kinda clowning on it a bit at the end of 1x10 but this look really is so JARRING. Like, in the dark it's menacing but in the light? It's unhinged and that reads as more dangerous imo.

Also just for comparison's sake the pre-Ed-ified version of the bride figure. He really did full on customize that thing lol.

I DON'T THINK ANNE KISSED STEDE HERE. It feels out of character of the show to pull the 'It's fine if a woman does it to a man' kind of thing with regard to unwanted kissing. This is the frame the scene starts on in the trailer. She's leaning back from him and isn't nearly close enough to his mouth to say for certain that's where she was coming from. My money is on her leaning in to whisper something into his ear, maybe under the guise of it being an advance/intended kiss, which would also explain the annoyed look when she's interrupted. She either got ACTUALLY interrupted or it's part of the act. Stede doesn't look nearly as uncomfortable as he would be if she'd kissed him or tried to, he looks confused.

Izzy going for his sword when this guy tries to get the drop on Stede. He either is starting to care or he knows how much Ed needs him alive.

Also, this is the other potential source of Stede's neckerchief. Mr, Knife right here has a red one and Stede doesn't have it in this scene. I do think this one is a little less distressed than the one Stede has though so it could just be coincidence.

See? No neckerchief. He DOES have a sword at his hip tho! So this, I think, is after Izzy's started training him.

Also, he actually looks really good in red lol.

Baby. He's definitely missing the ring in this shot. It sits higher than the baldric is covering. I want to give him a little kissie on his ouchie and then let him have a nap, he needs that.

The pants match the coat. Also, black shirt. Stede is kinda slaying ngl.

Still missing her head :(c. Isn't that bad luck?

Maybe yall didn't hear me properly with the Jim pic. I'll repeat:

EVERYBODY SAY 'THANK YOU DAVID JENKINS'.

I can't get over how Stede's just standing there politely with his arms behind his back lmfao.

Also, Izzy's got his right leg up, he's putting his weight on his left. . . 'foot'.

I SAID EVERYBODY SAY-

I know tits and all but also. The belly. I would like to. Bite.

*ahem*

ANYWAY. On the left (our left) side of the barrel you can see the tip of his right boot so he's def got that leg off the ground. Perhaps someone is trying to relearn their footwork? Now that they've got a different balance than they're used to? And perhaps a difference in sensory input in the leg he's standing on? Possibly?

This is the same beach Ed was on when he did the fuckin' RAD takedown of the other officer but it definitely looks like different times of day. Having both in the teaser is def meant to be a red herring. He doesn't have the neckerchief in this shot either.

Bra för honom. (Is how google translate tells me you say 'Good for him' in Swedish.)

Is Jackie's hair the same here as it is in the VF pic with Ed? Or like, similar enough to be a 'later in the day after some Fun™ messing it up a bit'?

Roach!!! Fully sleeveless now, added a belt, got some flowers tied to the strings/straps of his apron. Looks like he's having fun lighting that cannon lol. Pretty sure this is the same scene as that one leaked photo of him dancing with Fang and Izzy's green screen sock. He had the flowers in that, right?

[Ran out of allowed images, please hold]

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rems-writing · 17 days

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Daddy ribo

@yourfatherlucifer wanted this so here ya go. Maybe he can finally let me go from the basement lol jk jk. He doesn't have me hostage.

Trope: basketballplayer!Jongho x musician!reader

Includes: thigh riding, handjob slightly mean and possessive dom!Jongho, gn!reader, fic inspired by this photo

Thank you for providing this photo, father. Also, thank you for the title of this fic lol

@newworldnet

@blossomnet

MDNI

Everyone knew about the star athlete and famous basketball captain named Choi Jongho. Everyone also knew about the campus sweetheart and famous musician named Y/N L/N.

What everyone didn't know was that they were secretly dating.

There was a lot of talk about how athletes and musicians don't go well together. However, that didn't stop Jongho from nervously asking you out and smiling his precious gummy smile when you said yes to his dating proposal. From there, the rest was history.

Despite the scheduling conflicts due to his games and your orchestra concerts, they always found time to be in each other's arms and talk about their day. It usually ranges from the classes they both had to the practice sessions they both endured.

Sometimes, they would visit each other. Jongho would show up and sit in the empty auditorium and watch his lover practice and lead the entire orchestra while you would sit atop the bleachers in the campus gym and watch him practice free throws and go through rigorous drills.

Just like today.

You didn't have any classes nor after school orchestra practice today, so you decided to visit Jongho at basketball practice. This time, you sat at the bottom of the bleachers so they could get a close up look at him practicing.

As you were watching him, you stretched a bit so your limbs wouldn't grow stiff from sitting on the bleachers for too long. Some of the players usually don't notice them since you liked to be obscure and lowkey when watching but today, the entirety of the team noticed you.

Including Jongho, who for some reason didn't look too happy seeing you.

His serious, almost deadly, stare bore into his lover's eyes and when you finally looked up from your phone to wave at him excitedly, all he did was nod his head to the side, indicating that you should get your ass over to the other side of the gym and sit next to Jongho.

You happily, albeit naively, skipped over there and sat next to Jongho.

You threw your arms around Jongho and grew confused & sad when he shrugged them off.

Did you do something wrong?

While you were lost in thought, Jongho quickly draped his jacket over your legs and glared at his teammates. His peers got the message and stopped the lingering stares on his lover, pretending to do something else during the break from practice. Feeling satisfied in scaring his teammates, he turned to you and whispered lowly in your ear.

"Come with me."

Soon, the two of them were hidden in the locker room somewhere and Jongho took the opportunity to grab your hips and lightly slam you against the wall. Your sadness turned into fear when you saw the look in his eyes as he held you tightly, ocassionally drawing circles on your hips and squeezing them.

"Did I do something wrong, bear?"

His eyes softened a bit and he leaned in to kiss your forehead before shaking his head.

"Of course not, my little Mozart. But out of all the outfits you had, why did you decide to wear this?" He asked as he gestured to your outfit.

Oh.

So he had a problem with your outfit it seems.

It consisted of a cream-colored sweater crop top, a dark blue high-waisted skirt that only reached mid-thigh, and matching Vans. Your hair was down and you decided to put on a bit of makeup to cover your blemishes.

You fiddled with the hem of your skirt and looked away since your chin was held by Jongho.

"I'm sorry, bear. I just wanted to look cute today since I didn't have classes or orchestra practice today. I can change or wait for you at home - "

Jongho kissed you to shut your rambling up. He caressed your face and smirked lightly.

"Now now. Don't be like that. I love the outfit. What I don't love is my teammates ogling you. Did you notice that your skirt hiked up a bit when you crossed your legs? Or that this little top of yours raised up a bit when you threw your arms around me?"

Oh! He was just being possessive.

Wait a damn minute...

Oh...

You blushed out of embarrassment and Jongho chuckled lowly. He kissed you again but it was hungry and desperate. You tried your best to keep up with him since you were still new to all of this. However, you didn't mind taking that next step.

You just didn't expect it to be in the deepest part of the locker room.

He picked you up and led you to the benches near his locker before sitting down and having you sit down on his lap.

Specifically, right over one of his strong thighs.

Your blush worsened and Jongho grinned slightly, enjoying the way you squirmed around in this new position. His hand creeped up your skirt and hooked his finger into the hem of your panties.

"May I?"

Unable to form words, you nodded and Jongho's grin grew bigger before he yanked them down. You had to lift your hips a bit so he could pull them down easily. After he stuffed them in his pocket, he stuck his hand down his gym shorts and whipped out his cock.

His nice, girthy, and thick cock that made you more wet than before.

He guided your hand over to his cock and you saw little dribbles of precum leak from the tip. You gulped nervously as your hand wrapped around the shaft and you looked up at him with nervous eyes. Jongho almost came on the spot seeing his biggest wet dream coming to life.

You straddling his thigh, your exposed hole leaking over his gym shorts, and the innocent yet fiery look in your eyes as you stared him down with his dick in your hand.

You weren't innocent by all means. You just didn't think about those things often when you're around him. Today was an exception.

Perhaps you could live out that secret fantasy you always dreamed of when it came to this beefy man and his sturdy thighs.

"I want you to take it nice and slow. I want to savour every moment of this as much as possible. You cannot cum without my permission. If you do, I will fuck you into the walls of the locker room showers. Got it?"

There was a sharp edge in his voice and shivers went down your spine upon hearing that voice. Nodding obediently, you began to rock your hips back and forth, careful not to emit any moans or whimpers as the fabric of his gym shorts rubbed against you with a strange yet satisfying friction.

While you were riding his thigh, you were jerking him off at the same time. Jongho threw his head back and let out quiet sighs of satisfaction every time. When he adjusted himself to look at you, his eyes became hooded and a lazy smirk was on his face. Whenever he felt you go faster, he grabbed your hips and made you sit still.

"I said take it slow. Don't disobey me."

You nodded vigorously and you tried to ride his thigh as slowly as possible, causing him to nod in approval. Several minutes later, he signaled for you to pick up the pace and you did. He even lifted the leg of his gym shorts a bit so you could feel closer than before. You let out a slight whimper as your wet hole made contact with the bare skin of his thigh. Jongho let out a quiet moan as well and wrapped his arm around your waist while he buried his head in the crook of your neck and placed feverish kisses along the side of it.

"That's it, baby. Pick up the pace a bit more. Fuck I'm so close."

When he lifted his head to look you in the eyes, he brought you in for one last feverish kiss. His hands settled on your hips once more and he helped you rock back and forth on his thigh since you were distracted due to the two of you kissing each other. Once he pulled away, he leaned in to whisper in your ear.

"You've been so good for me. So obedient, small, and perfect. You can cum."

Feeling relieved, you rode his thigh faster than before and you found yourself cumming all over his thigh. You stopped and let your high ride out and you felt yourself shake a little due to how intense your orgasm was. Jongho felt himself cum as well since he let out his release at the same time as you. Once the both of you came down from your highs, you got up from his thigh and cringed at how wet it was.

"I'm so sorry, bear -"

"Don't be. We both got to live out our fantasies." Jongho reassured you as he stood up and opened his locker before changing into a different pair of gym shorts. He took out your panties from the pocket of his previous pair before throwing them at you so you could put them on.

"Next time, let me know if you'll wear such a delectable outfit like this again. God you look so beautiful like this."

All you could do was giggle and nod before the two of you left the locker room.

#newworldnet #blossomnet #ateez #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez smut

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leighsartworks216 · 1 month

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I Was Hoping You'd Find Me Here

Harvey x gn!Farmer

Inspired by how Harvey goes from saying "I was hoping you wouldn't find me here" to "I was hoping you'd find me here" after marriage when you find him in the hedge maze. Y'all when I say I dropped everything out of nowhere, actual *hours* after getting that line, to write this, I mean it. Also not proofread bc as soon as I finished the sex-repulsion started rearing it's ugly head so if there're any typos lemme know lol

SMUT BELOW THE CUT

Warnings: smut, semi-public sex, hand jobs, blow job mention, anxiety, embarrassment, blood mention, praise kink, slight dom/sub

Word Count: 1,863

Masterlist

AO3

"I was hoping you'd find me here." Bright blush illuminated Harvey's face even in the shadow of the looming hedges.

The farmer smirked. "Oh, were you?"

They pressed closer into his space, until the leaves behind his back were catching on the fabric of his green jacket, rustling with the disturbance of his weight. He nearly leapt out of his skin when their fingers curled around his belt loops, pulling him closer.

In the shadows of the moonlight, smirking like a cat staring down its prey, he could almost imagine them being a vampire. He gulped thinking about their teeth on his neck, biting down until they drew blood. And the hot press of their tongue lapping it up.

"What are you thinking about, darling?"

Their eyes glimmered like they knew exactly what he'd just been picturing in his mind. He felt warmth reach the tips of his ears and travel down his neck. He wasn't a stranger to intimacy, but he was all too aware of their location, and Maru just around the corner.

His spouse granted him the mercy of not having to answer as they slotted their lips over his, nipping at his lower lip. It only reignited the thoughts from before. He groaned softly, cupping their cheek and leaning into the kiss. They tasted like the breakfast he cooked for them that morning with their produce. Their skin was dusted with a fine layer of dirt, no doubt from tending to the fields before the end of the season. His thumb began brushing it away without thought, his other hand sliding up their arm to cradle their neck.

He gasped, eyes shooting wide open as the buckle of his belt loosened. The smirk from before was now a soft grin, sweet like their fresh maple syrup. “Do you want me to stop?” they whispered.

Everything in his mind said yes. They were in public for Yoba’s sake! Everyone in town was here. There was no telling when somebody could enter the maze and stumble upon them. People who were his patients, who knew him professionally, and the very few who knew him more personally.

He glanced over their shoulder.

They were in the dark… And everybody who wanted to do the maze was already in here, lost somewhere out of earshot… His only concern was Maru, but even she wouldn’t come this way unless she had reason to.

The farmer waited patiently, listening to his frantic heart as he made up his mind. Their hands were still, ready to finish undoing his belt, or to help readjust it back in place. If he asked, they’d grab his hand and drag them back home, back to bed in a mess of sloppy kisses and whispered praises.

“Harv?”

He blinked. With another anxious swallow to tamp down his fears, he kissed them again softly. “I want this,” he muttered against their lips. “I-I’ll try to be quiet.”

They kissed him back sweetly. “Good boy.”

The pet name immediately sent chills down his spine, emboldened by his belt being fully undone and his trousers being unbuttoned. It wasn’t long before their hand pushed into his pants and wrapped around his hardening cock. He keened as quietly as he could manage into their mouth. They happily swallowed up the sound with another kiss.

Their thumb stroked over his slit, spreading the beads of precum already leaking from him. He felt a bit silly, truth be told, like a teenager who snuck out to see his partner in the dead of night, hiding under school bleachers to make out. It made him feel young again. He could almost imagine himself when he was younger, head still set on becoming a pilot despite everything going against him, with a paramour of his own, on a secret, late-night outing.

Though, his secret paramour being his spouse, who chose them despite every other eligible bachelor and bachelorette who pined for their affections, made this even better than in his fantasies.

They pulled away to kiss at the corner of his mouth. “Can you be quiet for me, baby?”

He nodded before his mind even fully comprehended the question.

Their kisses trailed further along his jaw, nipping just under his jaw where any marks wouldn’t be so easily seen. (If he were shorter, anyway.) They languidly pumped his cock in their fist as they loosened his tie next, fluidly unbuttoning the first and second buttons with nimble fingers and pushing his collar aside. Wet, open-mouthed kisses decorated his clavicle. Their tongue dipped in the hollow of his throat, before sucking over his Adam’s apple. When he swallowed, they grinned against it.

He bit his lip to remind himself to be quiet, breathing heavy through his nose as they unbuttoned a few of the middle buttons in his dress shirt and pressed their hand to his stomach, sliding around to his sides.

He shivered again. Their hands were calloused from farming for almost two years straight, rough and yet so gentle with him.

They squeezed the base of his dick before pumping around the head a few times. He whimpered, clamping a hand over his mouth to stop any further sounds from slipping out. If he could, he’d be fully leaned up against the hedge, using it for support as they worked him with as much ease as they ran the farm. Unfortunately, to do so would be to fall into the branches shrouded in the mess of dark leaves.

They kissed back up to his ear, nibbling the lobe, teasing the flesh with one of their canines. He sighed shakily as the thought of vampirism shot to the forefront of his mind again.

“Where do you want to cum, baby?” They whispered against the helix of his ear. “In my hand?” They accentuated the words by dragging their middle finger along the underside of his cock, along the thick, sensitive vein. “Or my mouth?” They sucked his lobe into their mouth, swirling their tongue along it.

They were so close, they could hear and feel the effect they had on him. His heart was racing so fast and loud in his chest, he would have worried it was sounding like a drum throughout the whole town, calling everyone to their location, had he the mind for it. Instead, all he could think about was images of kissing them like a madman as he finished in their hand. Or the feeling of their hair in his hand as they swallowed around his cock, milking him until he was utterly spent. For as much as he would have loved seeing them on their knees before him, looking up at him, highlighted only by the moon in this dark alley of the maze, he feared it would completely destroy his ability to be quiet. Already, he was fighting to stay hushed, when all they’d done is touch and kiss him.

He pulled his hand from his mouth, shaking as he decided his answer. “H-Hand,” he breathed. “P-Please, honey, let me cum.”

They pushed their face into his hand to move it out of the way without having to stop feeling the hair on his chest or trailing down his stomach, or the soft fat on his sides. “I will, darling.” They kissed him long and sweet, but his mouth chased for more and more, passionate and needy as he cupped both their cheeks and pulled them closer, closer, closer.

He moaned and whimpered against their lips as they jerked him off faster. The sounds rumbled low in his throat, like a beast within him was being drawn out with their ministrations. They coaxed his mouth open with their tongue, the bitter taste of coffee mixing with their sweetness. The concerns about being silent slipped his mind entirely as he fast approached his orgasm. They diligently muffled his beautiful sounds, their own mind flooded with love and adoration for the man they chose to marry. Their wonderful, nerdy doctor.

His breath caught in his throat sharply. His hips bucked mindlessly as his cock twitched in their hand. They covered his tip with their palm, stroking just under the head with their thumb as they caught the hot strands of cum. As his dick softened, he sighed shakily against their mouth.

They pulled away first, making sure they got as much of his spend as they could before pulling their hand from his pants. Their hand left his shirt to cup his cheek. He smiled when he felt them trying to fix his mustache.

“Good?”

He nodded. “Really good,” he assured them. A new wave of blood rushed to his cheeks as he noticed their hand, awkwardly held and covered in semen. He removed himself from their hold to fish around his pockets for a packet of tissues. He pulled a couple out of the plastic and cleaned their hand, wrapping the soiled tissues in another protective layer of tissue. When he looked back up at their face, tucking the packet back into his pocket, they had a big, dopey smile on their face. “What?”

They laughed. “You, that’s what. I just didn’t expect you to have tissues.”

“I’m a doctor,” he offered as an explanation with an embarrassed chuckle.

“You’re adorable.” He began rooting around his pockets again. “Hand sanitizer?”

He must’ve been as red as a ripe tomato when he pulled out the small bottle of sanitizer. But they just chuckled and held out their hands, diligently rubbing it between each finger and down their wrists. As they did, he began putting himself back together. He rebuttoned his shirt, tucking it back into his pants to give the illusion that nothing happened. Then he zipped, buttoned, and buckled his trousers once more. His spouse finished cleaning their hands just in time to fix his tie, pressing a kiss to his chin when they finished.

“Ah, thank you, for that, by the way,” he stammered.

They adjusted his collar and smiled warmly at him. “Of course. It was my pleasure.” They grabbed his hand and tugged him out of the alley. “If you wanna wait out there, it shouldn’t take me long to get the golden pumpkin.”

He tugged on their hand, pulling them to a stop just before the entrance of the maze. His heart began racing again as he tried not to regret what he was about to say. “C-Can I go with you?”

“Are you sure?”

He looked down the path, toward where Maru meandered about, trying to gather her sense of direction. It was lit well enough… He tried to ignore the grabby hands peeking around the corner.

The farmer squeezed his hand. “You don’t have to, Harvey. I know you don’t like scary things.”

“I…” He took a deep breath, looking at them once more. “I want to. You make me want to be brave.”

They beamed up at him, pressing a quick peck to his cheek. “Okay, if you say so. Don’t let go of my hand, right?”

He held on a bit tighter. “Right.”

Together, they marched into the haunted hedge maze.

…

Harvey stuck around with Abigail until the farmer came back with the prize.

#fanfic #fanfiction #smut #sdv harvey #sdv harvey x farmer #sdv harvey x reader #stardew valley harvey #stardew valley #stardew valley x reader #stardew valley x farmer

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7ndipity · 8 months

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“Not Just Friends"

Namjoon x Reader

Summary: You and Joon have been toeing the line between friends and something more for weeks, and you finally decide to make the first move.

Warnings: Swearing, Suggestive, not proofread

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon who requested this! I can't tell if I like this one or not, I'm too tired lol, but hopefully you will!(Also, I can't, for the life of me, come up with titles🤷)

Masterlist

Requests are open

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

“Okay, it’s the zombie apocalypse,” You started for the third time that afternoon, shifting to face him where he sat next to you on the bench. “All we have to eat are mint chocolate protein bars.”

“That sounds absolutely disgusting.” He said, scrunching his face up at you.

“It’s all we have left!” You retorted. “Would you eat them or not?”

“Nope.” He responded immediately, sipping his coffee.

“Seriously?! You would rather starve?!” You asked in disbelief.

“I would leave them for you, so you could survive.” He said, shrugging.

“That’s sweet, but also very stupid.” You commented.

“Well, I guess that’s just me.” He said, smirking at you.

“Ugh,” You cringed, making him chuckle. “Why do I even bother with you?”

“Because I buy you coffee?”

“Mmm, not sure if that’s good enough.” You replied dryly, reaching over in an attempt to flick the brim of his ballcap, but he leaned out of your reach, making you nearly wobble off balance before shifting back to your original position.

It felt nice to hang out with him like this again, ending the day just sitting together in the park as the first leaves of autumn skittered by on the breeze. Things had been slightly off between you the past couple weeks, following a slightly drunken evening out together with some other friends had resulted in you both sharing more than you maybe should have.

“So, I have a question.” He drawled, leaning slightly closer than was necessary for you to hear him. “What would you do, hypothetically, if I told you somebody was into you?”

“It depends,” You replied, giggling slightly at his focused gaze. “Is it you?”

“Maybe.” He said, raising a brow as he stared at you, feeling yourself suddenly sober up a bit as you realized he was being serious.

“Then I would say, hypothetically, that I like you too.” You answered, pulse picking up as you noticed his eyes flicker down to your lips, leaning in a little more.

The sound of a glass being dropped somewhere else across the room had shook you both out of your trance, reminding you that you weren't alone, scooting away quickly before anyone else noticed what had happened, or almost happened…

Neither of you had directly spoken about your conversation from that night, but there had definitely been a noticeable shift in your dynamic.

When you were out together, he would briefly catch hold of your hand as you wove through the crowded streets to keep you close. You always claimed the seat beside him, which had earned you a few curious glances from a couple of your other friends.

You weren’t exactly dating, but you definitely weren’t ‘just friends’ anymore. Due to the nature of your limbo state, however, there was also a slight sense of uneasiness, not quite knowing where the line lay between what was okay and what wasn’t anymore.

It had grown quiet as you’d gotten lost in your thoughts, contemplating whether or not to just bite the bullet and ask the dreaded ‘What is this?/What are we?’ question, but before you could decide, you felt a sudden droplet of water hit your hand, quickly followed by another on your cheek as you glanced up at the darkening sky.

“Aw, shit.” You grumbled, fumbling to pull your jacket hood over your head as it began to rain properly. “I thought it wasn’t supposed to start till later.”

“I told you.” He said, grinning as he sat back, not bothered in the least by the sudden weather change.

“You know, you’re one of the only people I know that actually likes getting caught in the rain.” You commented, watching him in amusement.

“Rain’s nice.” He said tilting his head back to let it fall on his face.

When he sat back up, something seemed to shift between you again as you made eye contact, feeling that familiar tense flutter in your stomach as his gaze flickered down to your lips.

Seized by a sudden surge of confidence, you leaned forward again, not breaking eye contact as you caught his shirt collar before pulling him down gently, connecting your lips.

For a split second, everything else seemed to fade out, the only thing you were aware of was the feel of Namjoon’s lips moving softly against yours.

Too soon, you pulled back, no more than an inch, feeling you and Joons’ breaths slip out in shaky exhales as his eyes slowly fluttered open to look at you.

“Do that again.” He whispered, hands coming up to hold your waist firmly, pulling you closer to him. “Please.”

At his plea, you immediately leaned in again. This time, the kiss was much more intense, teeth clashing and tongues moving against each other as your hands fumbled to find purchase on his shoulders, only breaking apart when your lungs started to burn from lack of oxygen.

“Fuck,” Namjoon sighed, leaning his forehead against your shoulder as he tried to catcht his breath. “I’ve wanted to do that for weeks.”

“Why didn’t you?” You asked.

“No idea.” He chuckled, pressing closer to you as a sudden breeze made you both shiver.

“It’s raining a lot.” You noted, taking in your dampening surroundings.

“Mhm.”

“We should probably head home.”

He groaned, pulling back reluctantly. “I don’t wanna let you go yet.” He said, pouting slightly.

“Who said you had to?” You asked.

He tilted his head at you questioningly.

“I said we should head home, I didn’t say it had to be alone.” You said, winding your hand into his.

“Oh, Okay.” He grinned.

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sanguineterrain · 9 months

Note

Hiii, discovered your fics on AO3 and they’re very my jam! If you’re still taking requests, could I suggest something where Jason rescues you, an angsty hurt/comfort? Maybe they’re pining for each-other and maybe confront/confess their feelings, or are already together, up to you.

No worries if not 😊😊 Thanks for the good words ❤️🖤

Hey I know you! Thanks for leaving nice comments over yonder 🥰 Idk if I really delivered on this prompt but I hope you like it anyway lol 😅 I combined this prompt with another I received about Jason and the reader fighting before the reader is hurt/kidnapped.

jason todd x fem!reader. tw: creepy men, crime alley, injured reader, jason shoots people (🎶whatta mighty good man🎶)

****

"If you don't know who this is, you shouldn't be fucking calling. Leave a message after the beep or whatever."

Beeeep!

"Jay, it's me. Can we please talk? You can't ignore me forever. I want us to fix this. I—" You swallow hard. "I miss you."

You sigh, rubbing your forehead as you think of what to say. You've already left three unanswered messages. There's no more for you to say. You just want things to be fixed.

You want your best friend back.

"Okay. Call me when you can."

You hang up and pocket your phone.

The fight was stupid. Jason doesn't respond well to being pushed, but you pushed him anyway. You wanted to know where he disappeared to at night. You were sick of the secrets, of always feeling like you were three steps behind, left in the dark.

If you really cared about me, you would tell me where you go.

Jason had stilled, expression cold.

I don't owe you anything.

Your voice had turned wobbly then.

Jay, don't I mean anything to you? I want you to trust me, I want this to be a normal friendship!

He'd put on his jacket and collected the few things he left in your apartment.

You're right. You deserve normal.

You haven't spoken since. At first, you thought Jason left for a few hours to cool down. So you gave him space.

But then hours turned to days, and now it's been a full week and a half since you'd fought. Last night, you broke down and cried. This is it. You've lost him for good.

Part of you fears the reality is darker than him just leaving. You've long suspected that whatever Jason goes out to do is probably illegal since he's always out at night.

What if you're called down to the police station to identify a body?

All those things left unsaid. Jason will never know you love him.

Screw this. You're going to his apartment.

It's late. It's really late, and this is actually not the best idea to carry out at eight o'clock at night in Crime Alley. There's a reason Jason always insists on hanging out at your apartment or at a cafe.

A man whistles at you down the street. "Goin' somewhere, girlie?"

This was a bad idea. Jason might be the one who has to ID a body tonight.

You can't remember which of these apartments is his. But you can't call him. He can't know you're here, not yet.

"You shouldn't be here, lady!" a kid shouts at you from a fire escape. "He don't like new people on his turf!"

You don't take the time to figure out who the kid means. Crime Alley is known for, well, crime. The sooner you can locate Jason's apartment, the better.

A group of men light cigarettes down the road. You pause and turn around. In the process, you stumble over a garbage can.

That instantly draws their attention.

"Well, what have we here?" one jeers. "You lost, sweetie?"

You run.

You don't care if it makes you look afraid—you are afraid, and you're beyond caring. You shouldn't have come here.

You turn abruptly. You have no idea where you're going, but maybe if you act like you do, you'll throw them off. You take another turn, then another, and you look behind you to check if—

Wham!

You crash into a body. A muscled body, one that forces you backwards.

White, glowing eyes that smolder inside a red helmet meet your own.

Jason's never warned you about the Red Hood. He just tells you to stay away from the area altogether. You don't really need to be warned about Hood anyway. You know what he's about. You know you've probably just sealed your fate tonight.

"What the fuck?" he asks, modulated voice rough.

"I'm sorry," you babble. "Please don't hurt m—"

Gunshots ring out, and you realize you've just stumbled into an active gunfight. With Red Hood.

Fuck your luck.

The gunmen have spotted you, and they take great pleasure in using you as a distraction; they fire at you instead of Hood.

He shields you with his body, blocking the bullets. It works until a flash grenade is thrown, and you're separated from Hood, ears ringing. You hit the ground hard from the impact, scraping your hands and arms.

Someone's arm wraps around your neck, and you're suddenly dragged backward. You scream, scratching at the arm, and a fist thumps your head. You blink at the pain, too dazed to keep fighting.

"We had a deal, Hood!" your captor shouts, arm tightening around your neck. "Let us go or she dies!"

"Negation's over," Red Hood snarls, and shoots all four men.

You cry as the shot echoes too close to your face and for a moment, you fear you've been shot too. The now dead man slips off of you, collapsing in a heap on the ground.

Your ankle protests when you step on it. In the chaos of the fight, you hadn't realized you sprained it. You trip and fall on your butt, scrambling away from the pooling blood.

"What are you doing here?" Hood growls at you, stalking closer.

You start to cry, edging backward.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your fight, please d-don't kill me—"

You press down hard on your wrist and that hurts more than your ankle. You cry harder at the pain, grabbing your wrist.

Red Hood gets closer, and you try to scramble away with one arm and one leg. He kneels down and holds your good arm in place so you can't move.

"I'm sorry!" you say again, tears thick on your lashes.

"Fuck," Hood says roughly, and unlocks his helmet.

Your eyes widen as he pulls it off.

"J—"

"I told you to never come to this area, and you come alone, in the fucking dark, without a weapon? What the hell is wrong with you?" Jason snarls.

"Please don't yell at me," you whisper, covering your face with your hands.

You're shaking, adrenaline turning your stomach. A moment later, you throw up.

"Shit," Jason says and puts a hand on your stomach to help you sit back up. "Shit, I'm an asshole. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell."

"I thought you died," you say, daring to look at him. "You weren't answering my calls, and you only go out at night. I thought..."

Jason immediately looks avalanched by guilt. He cradles you to his chest.

"Fuck. I'm sorry. I should've—I thought it would be better, leaving."

"I didn't want you to leave," you cry, arms curling around his neck. "I love you so much, Jay. I was so scared. Don't leave me again."

Jason's breath hitches. You freeze, suddenly sure you've screwed it all up.

"Jay—"

"Y'love me?" he asks, cupping your cheek.

You nod emphatically.

"Even though I'm..." He gestures to the helmet.

"I'm just happy you're alive," you say. "I missed you so much, Jason."

His arms tighten around you. "God, I missed you too, baby. I was going crazy not talking to you. I'm sorry I ignored you. Wasn't right of me. But don't ever do this again, okay? If I hadn't been here—"

He takes a shuddering breath and kisses your neck. You nod against his shoulder.

"I promise. Just don't shut me out again, please."

Jason's quiet for a moment. You can feel him thinking.

"This isn't gonna be normal," he says. "If-if we do this. This is part of me. Who I am."

"I don't care," you say. "I love you, Jay. Every part. Whatever that entails."

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd fanfiction #red hood x reader #red hood x you #batman fanfiction #dc fanfiction #i do notttt like how this one came out but im lowkey struggling to write this week so. oh well 😔#inbox #blurb

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zepskies · 10 months

Text

Love Actually - Part 2

Paring: Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader

Summary: You and Ben steel yourselves in order to meet your crazy family for Christmas dinner.

AN: Here’s the requested Part 2! It got too long, so I had to break it up lol. There will be a Part 3 after this (final part). I also tried really hard to find an image/gif that would match this chapter better, but alas, there are only so many pictures of this scruffy guy. (And none in a real suit. 😂)

Read Part 1

Remember, this story is set in the same world as “Break Me Down,” and set before “Checkerboard.” But this can be read as a stand-alone! Hope you enjoy…

Word Count: 4,800 Tags/Warnings: Tense situations, bit of angst, lots of sexy fluff

Part 2: "Season’s Greetings"

Ben checked his watch again.

He’d lost count of how many times, how many minutes, how long he’d been waiting for you to come down the goddamn stairs so he could get this night over with.

You’d been getting ready for this dinner with your family for four hours. How long did it take you to slap on some makeup and throw on a dress?

Finally, he heaved a sigh and got up from the couch, adjusting the watch on his wrist. He stayed by the foot of the stairs and called up to you.

“Hey. What’s taking so damn long?” he asked. His brows were furrowed, mouth set in an aggravated frown. “I already told you. I’m not planning on being at this thing all night. So if you don’t come down here in the next ten minutes, I swear to fucking Christ—”

Ben stopped short, as he heard your footsteps at the top of the stairs. When he looked up with expectant, pursed lips, his face subtly froze.

“What? What’re you gonna do?” you teased. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you grasped the guardrail and carefully made your way down the stairs. These heels were no joke.

You had a black suede clutch tucked in your other hand, but Ben was drawn to the bright red of your dress. The color alone appealed to him. It called back a memory of a musty club, rich whiskey, and the dulcet tones of your voice.

But now, this dress was shorter. It also hugged your every curve and stopped just a few inches above the knee. He noticed a tantalizing little slit in the back, at the hem, leading his eyes down your sheer pantyhose and down to the tall, black heels.

His lips formed a teasing smile. “You sure you can walk in those?”

But you could see the truth in his eyes; he liked what he saw. They raked back up your body, taking in the short sleeves, the slight plunge of the neckline, the red lipstick as bright as your dress, the soft sweep of eyeliner and dark lashes—and you hoped he noticed the way you’d painstakingly done your hair into soft, ‘40s style waves.

“Do I look shaky to you?” you countered.

Ben tilted his head slightly as he stared up at you. “Not one bit.”

He reached out for you on the last step of the stairs. You took his hand and gave him a grateful look, but your hand didn’t stop there. It grazed up the sleeve of his suit jacket as you took him in with a smile.

Not often one to don a simple black suit, Ben went with a charcoal gray against a crisp black undershirt. No tie though, leaving the first couple of buttons casually open.

“Look at my man, all sharp and modern and sexy as hell,” you purred. He accepted the praise with a pleased quirk of his lips.

Normally you wouldn’t try to feed his peacock-level pride too much. He knew he was a damn fine-looking man. However, you also knew he wasn’t totally into meeting the rest of your family tonight. You knew you needed to give him a (well earned) ego boost.

“Gotta match my girl,” said Ben. Though he fingered the ends of your softly curled hair with a more genuine glint to his smile. “Though you’ve gone a bit vintage.”

“Compromise.” You grinned, and you leaned up for a soft kiss.

He met you there, even pressing his luck when his tongue begged entrance against your lips. You held his cheek and brushed your thumb there tenderly, but you soon broke away.

“We’ve got somewhere to be,” you reminded him. Ben sighed through his nose, though his hands molded to your waist.

“I didn’t realize you were that kinky,” he said. His voice was deep and suggestive. Your face started to heat up, even as your brows knitted with confusion.

“What?” you asked.

“I know you’re not gonna make me wait all night to get a taste of this,” he said. And he leaned down to begin plying you with his heavy hands and his lips along your neck. “I gotta assume you want me to fuck you in your mom’s house.”

You uttered a shocked laugh. You batted his shoulder, even though it didn’t even make him blink. His lips curved as they grazed your neck. He inhaled under your ear, making a pleasant shudder run down your spine. He hummed in approval.

“Is that the perfume I got you?” he asked.

“Mhmm,” you nodded. “I like it a lot. Makes me feel all warm and spicy.”

Ben chuckled into your neck. He did pull back eventually to thumb around the edge of one of your earrings—the second part of his Christmas gift to you. The white stone and silver filigree shone in the light.

“They look good,” he remarked, giving you a charming smile. “Better on you than the catalogue girl.”

Now that was an image. Soldier Boy: browsing through a magazine of women’s jewelry. You smiled brightly at him.

“Thank you, baby,” you replied. “They really are beautiful.”

Then you glanced down to find your gift to him on his wrist: a new silver Rolex. You turned his hand over to make sure that it fit him right.

“Not too tight, right? Not too loose.” you asked.

He shook his head. “Nah, it’s good.”

“Just good? Does it still need adjusting? We can go back to the store and have them fix it—”

“It’s perfect, sweetheart. Stop fussing,” he said. Your lips pursed as you looked up at him from the watch.

“I just want to make sure you’re happy with it, that’s all,” you said.

“I am,” he replied. But his smile, the hidden glint of something in his eyes, made you blush. Inside, you were warm and pleased.

“All right, let’s go then,” you said. “I’ve got the rum cake, and the actual rum ready to go in the kitchen. And the presents are lined up by the door. Can you load those up in the car for me while I get the food?”

Ben obliged you, though he soon balked at the army of presents waiting for him by the door. When did you have time to get all of these? He didn’t remember you buying all this shit.

Though he realized, this must’ve been how you filled your time after work, while he was gone for the past two weeks on that mission.

As he loaded the gifts into the car, Ben reluctantly remembered that it had been…strange, to be away from you. For the past few months, you two had fallen into a rhythm. Waking up to each other, busy morning routines before work, sharing your evenings afterwards.

You had also been making it your mission to find new things to do together. Like paintballing, of all things. Or comedy shows, new movies and restaurants, concerts, club nights with your friends. Though it was weird for him, sometimes, to go to a show without all the celebrity fanfare he used to get as Soldier Boy.

Well, he was still Soldier Boy. He just wasn’t getting paid anywhere near the same as he used to. (But let’s face it, he didn’t need the damn money. He’d earned plenty in 40 years of fame and family inheritance.)

People still knew his name, still worshiped him at times, but it wasn’t the same. He wasn’t part of Vought’s machine anymore. No one really told him what to do, but if he wanted this life—here, in upstate New York—he was forced to make efforts to color within the lines of the law (mostly). Hell, he actually worked for a living. Even if it was for the government.

The point was, he was part of something. And it wasn’t totally shit, even if he was surrounded by morons on a daily basis…

By the time you opened the passenger side door to interrupt his musings, Ben remembered to actually start the car.

“You okay?” you asked as you clicked in your seatbelt. You were keeping a close eye on him tonight, trying to gauge his shifting moods.

Ben hesitated, but when he glanced over at you, he reached over and thumbed at your chin, under those ruby red lips. It made you smile.

“Yeah,” he replied. Though he let out a subtle breath as he faced the road and took the wheel of the car. Ever perceptive though, you sent him an assessing look.

“You’re not nervous, are you?” you asked. His brows furrowed slightly.

“Why would I be?” he asked, his voice a bit sharp. Defensive, you interpreted.

Instead of answering, you leaned over and laid a hand on his thigh.

“Look, my mom already likes you. Louisa’s going to come around,” you said. Your mouth edged into a smile, of sorts. “I just need you to stop me from killing my aunt with a ladle.”

Ben snorted in response. “All right.”

When the two of you arrived at your mother’s house, she opened the door to her home and greeted your boyfriend like a long-lost son.

“Oh, Ben! Come in, please,” she beckoned, grabbing his arm and guiding him inside. “You look so handsome, my goodness!”

Ben couldn’t help offering a smile. It was infused with his usual charm.

“Marie,” he greeted with a nod. You shook your head, despite your own smile. Ben liked attention—along with a bit of praise and fanfare went without saying. And you knew your mom wouldn’t be the only one to play into that tonight.

“Hi, Mom,” you said pointedly, with a hand on your hip. Marie turned to you with a bright smile.

“Oh! Honey, there you are. Merry Christmas!” She brought you in and hugged you tight. She then fairly gushed as she took in your dress and touched your hair. “Oh, you look so beautiful. I wish you’d come earlier though. I need you to help me and Trina. Come on.”

Marie glanced up at Ben again. “Oh, you too, hun! We can introduce you to everyone.”

Ben nodded. He followed your lead behind your mother, and you inwardly steeled yourself on the way to the kitchen. The familiar smells awaiting you brought you back to the better parts of your childhood. Ones that were filled with music, laughs, and good food.

And if there was one redeeming quality about your Aunt Trina, it was that she could cook her ass off. Since your mom had always been more of the “boxed meal” variety cook, Trina always took over at Thanksgiving and Christmas, and just about every other family gathering.

She was putting the ham in the oven while your sister sat at the kitchen table with your Grandpa George, peeling potatoes. The bigger table in the dining room was currently set up with appetizers and wine.

But the sounds of chatter and pots and pans and cabinets closing—it all stopped when you and Ben entered the kitchen. You felt his hand at the small of your back, and whether he meant it to or not, that familiar touch stabilized you.

Even Trina stopped giving Louisa directions on how to correctly peel and cut the potatoes for boiling. Her mouth opened when she took in the sight of Ben, from head to toe.

“Good evening,” he said, if only to break the silence.

But you knew the rest was up to you. You curled a hand around his solid arm and gave him a smile, before looking to your family.

“Hey, guys. Merry Christmas!” you greeted. “This is my boyfriend, Ben.”

Trina squealed in excitement. She came over (with a wooden spoon in hand) to give you an enthusiastic hug and kiss. She held your arms and looked between you and Ben.

“Your mom said you were dating a superhero, but I had no idea…” she twittered. “I mean…it’s Soldier Boy. He’s in my kitchen!”

“It’s Mom’s kitchen, actually,” you muttered. Trina’s excitement dimmed slightly as she rolled her eyes at you.

“Ever the smart mouth,” she said, playfully whacking you in the ass with her spoon.

Ben smirked. He certainly agreed with your aunt’s assessment. He turned to her to offer something in greeting, but before he could, Louisa’s voice cut in from across the room.

“What should we call you? Ben, or Soldier Boy?” she asked dryly.

You frowned, gave your sister a look. Meanwhile, Ben didn’t quite make it to a smile, but he was civil when he answered her.

“Ben’s fine.”

You remained in the kitchen to help out, while Ben migrated to the living room with your grandfather. Ben grabbed a large glass of wine on his way there, along with a few mini quiche to tide him over until dinner.

He then noticed an old woman sleeping on the leather recliner.

“Who’s that?” he asked George.

“Oh, that’s Great Aunt Sylvia,” George said. “She just took an oxy for her hip. She’ll be passed out ‘til dinner.”

Ben blinked at the casual mention of oxycodone, but he wouldn’t mind a few of what Sylvia was having. Oxy gave him such a nice buzz.

But instead, he and George sat on opposite ends of the couch while Sylvia snored away.

For a moment, it was quiet, save for the soft crooning of Nat King Cole playing (and Sylvia). The music came from a small round speaker on the coffee table, Ben noticed. You’d told him about Alexa and Siri and all those techno bitches out there now, controlling people’s houses. He didn’t trust it.

“You like baseball?” George asked as he turned on the TV. Ben nodded, and the other man put on a game. Mets versus the Cubs, three to one. The men were silent for a while as they watched the game.

Unfortunately for Ben, that peace couldn’t last.

“So,” George started. “You’re a supe, huh?”

Ben inclined his head, sipping at his wine. This was what he fucking hated. Small talk.

“I remember you,” George said. “My wife and I liked that movie you made…King of Kings. With Charlton Heston. What a classic that guy was.”

Ben smiled. “He was a good time. Drank like a fucking fish.”

George raised a brow. “Did he? Well, we all need a glass every now and then.”

Ben nodded, taking a pointed sip of his wine.

“Heston. One of the few celebrities I gave a shit about when he died,” George said with a shake of his head. “Wasn’t long before my wife’s passing.”

You’d told Ben a lot about your grandmother. When your parents got divorced, she’d insisted that you, your mom, and your sister live with her and George. She didn’t want to take any chances with your dad, who’d been more than unstable at the time in his drinking.

Ben didn’t often pray. But he drank then with a silent toast, that good ole’ Jon was getting hot coals up the ass right about now. In hell.

Ben then considered your grandfather’s musings, realizing he hadn’t thought about his old pal Heston in a long time.

“How’d he die?” Ben asked. George glanced over at him.

“Well, official case was pneumonia. But it wasn’t all that clear,” he said. “However, I think he had a flare up.”

“Of what?” Ben asked.

George gave him a wry look. “The fate that all men fear. Ass cancer.”

Ben raised a brow, his mouth twitching. He had a feeling he knew where your sense of humor came from.

“You probably don’t have to worry about that,” George waved a dismissive hand. “You’re still young. Well, sort of…I mean, being superhuman and all that. I’m sure that comes in handy with the normal stuff, like the sniffles and whatnot…and hey! At least you won’t have to worry about your asshole fallin’ out.”

Ben actually smiled. Now he knew you were related to this man.

In the kitchen, you were trying and failing to dodge a game of “Twenty Questions” with your aunt, while you and your sister finished cutting potatoes. All of the questions were predictably centered around Ben. Luckily, you had a plate of mini quiche, cheese, and salami between you and Louisa to keep you pacified.

“Well, you’ve done well for yourself, I’ll give you that,” Trina said. “But why on God’s green Earth didn’t you tell us you were dating Soldier Boy? How the hell did you even meet him?”

Shit. There was more than one reason you hadn’t told the rest of your family yet, and this was partly it. How the hell were you supposed to explain this?

Louisa shot you a knowing look, along with a raised brow.

“Well, I was actually assigned to find him after he…went missing last year,” you said, keeping things purposefully vague. “We met and…things just kind of took off from there.”

Your mom and your sister didn’t even know all the details, but they knew this much. After Soldier Boy used his nuclear power to end Homelander, he’d escaped in the aftermath.

You’d been working a year in Surveillance at Supe Affairs, but you’d been a private investigator by trade, previously working at your father’s firm. You’d even worked at Vought for a few years, before joining the S.A.

You were then recruited by Grace Mallory to track down Soldier Boy, along with Butcher and his team.

…And that’s where things got complicated.

“But isn’t Soldier Boy the one who killed Homelander?” Trina asked. She stopped in her stirring of the cranberry sauce to look back at you. And you met her stare directly.

“Yes. He was partnered with the CIA on that.” Sort of. You added, “Homelander wasn’t the hero you all thought you knew, remember? He was a raging psychopath.”

Trina huffed at that.

“So was your father. And you still worked with him for years,” she remarked, even off-handedly as she went back to stirring.

Your entire body stilled. Inside, your temper was a lit fuse, preparing to ignite. You stuffed a mini quiche into your mouth to stop you from exploding.

And your mom and your sister recognized the danger. Louisa frowned tightly and touched your arm.

She had been too young to form a true relationship with your father by the time your parents were divorced, and your grandparents (and later you) hadn’t allowed Jon to interfere too much with Louisa's life. So Jon’s death, a mere seven months ago, hadn’t truly affected her as deeply as it had you.

And that in itself was complicated.

Marie paused in preparing the sweet potato casserole to give her sister a warning look.

“Trina, that’s not fair,” said Marie.

Your aunt shrugged. “It’s the truth, isn’t it?”

Slowly, you stood. You grabbed a hand towel and brushed the velvety remains of potato skin from your hands. You also took the plate of cheese cubes and salami with you.

“Honey, she just means—”

“I know what she meant, Mom,” you said. Your mother wasn’t confrontational. She would never tell her sister to shut the fuck up when she was being out of pocket.

But you had no problem doing so. You walked over to Trina, who saw the look in your eye and actually relented, realizing that there was, in fact, a line, and she had crossed it.

“Look, I’d like us to continue having a nice evening,” you told her. “Mention my father again, and it won’t be.”

After a moment, Trina nodded.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have said that. Don’t mind me,” she said. But then, she smiled. “I’m really happy for you, sweetheart. You’ve got a superhero! Who knew you’d pull that one off, huh?”

Your flat smile remained. “Oh, yeah? How do you mean?”

Trina faltered. Apparently, she hadn’t expected that.

“Oh. Well, you know…”

“No. I really don’t. Can you clarify for me?” you asked, using the same even tone you employed with testy co-workers on the Surveillance team.

Trina sighed. “Oh, honey. You’re a beautiful girl, but…”

“What?” you challenged. “Just say it.”

Behind Trina’s coil of dark hair piled on her head, Marie looked worried. Louisa was also on tenterhooks, gripping the kitchen table. She slowly got to her feet though, in case she needed to intervene.

“Well, I wasn’t gonna say anything,” Trina said. She gestured to you, after grabbing a cheese cube off your plate. “But your hips, hun. I mean, I enjoy a snack. A bon bon. A chocolate eclair. The occasional croissant, but the weight don’t come off easier as you get older, does it?”

You were officially burning like a tea kettle.

“And with a man like that…” Trina fanned herself with the discarded, empty bag of cranberries. “Mother of God. He’s gotta be beating ‘em off with a fucking stick.”

Your mom pursed her lips at the salty language, giving Trina a sharp glance (for multiple reasons).

Trina noticed, but she only popped another piece of salami into her mouth. “Sorry, hun.”

But then she turned back to you.

“And have you talked about kids yet? That’ll be some serious weight gain.”

You let out a sharp breath and raised your gaze heavenward, pleading for mercy.

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered.

“I’m just sayin’!” she said. “He might have forever, but you certainly don’t.”

Now that one struck a nerve. Perhaps not the one she intended, but it cut deeply into you all the same. You and Ben had agreed to pin that conversation for now, but the fact was, he would continue to age much slower than you.

At your steely glare, Trina again raised her hands. This time in placating defense. “I’m trying to help you, is all I’m saying.”

You gripped the edge of the kitchen counter so tight you thought a manicured nail might break off. You’d reached the end of your tether.

“I’ve been here for all of five minutes—”

“Okay, you know what?” Louisa finally stepped in and grabbed your arm. “I need your help. Let’s find the red tablecloth so we can set the table.”

She led you out of the kitchen and into the hall, but you stopped short so fast that you skidded a bit in your heels. You took deep breaths and braced a hand against the wall.

You turned to your sister. “Why doesn’t she attack you like that?”

“Oh, believe me,” Louisa said, rolling her eyes. “I had my turn before you got here. I’ve been locked in with these clucking hens all morning.”

A grin twitched at the corner of your lips.

“My condolences,” you said. But then, you look at your sister a bit harder. “And you. What’s your problem, huh? How long are you going to give Ben a hard time?”

It took her a moment, but Louisa eventually sighed.

“I mean, Aunt Trina’s an asshole, but she kind of said it. He’s literally a century-years-old,” she said. “How do you not have a problem with that?”

You crossed your arms, though you knew you didn’t have a good answer for that one.

“Age is…relative.” You struggled against a wince.

“He lived through the damn Dust Bowl,” Louisa deadpanned. “He’s fucking ancient.”

You glared back at her. “Okay, enough. What’s your real problem, huh? I mean really.”

Louisa let out another sigh. Her hands went to her hips. You hadn’t had a chance to tell her, but she looked pretty tonight too in her black dress. It flared at the waist and reached her knees, and she’d paired it with some chunky red heels. She was a little taller than you normally, but not by much. As the older sister, you enjoyed finally being taller than her for once in your higher heels.

Still, you were annoyed with her right now. You sensed she had something deeper against Ben, and it wasn’t all about his age. When she eventually answered, it just confirmed your suspicions.

“He’s dangerous,” she said at last. “He’s so fucking dangerous.”

That disheartened you. Your lips pressed, and you held onto your own arms a bit tighter.

“Not to me,” you replied. Louisa’s frown deepened as her brows knitted together.

“Especially to you,” she said. “He kidnapped you.”

You gave a wan smile. “Not technically.”

That had been one of his subordinates, who’d taken you outside of Ben’s orders…

It was a long and complicated story, but basically, it had worked out for both of you in the end.

Louisa gave you a more incredulous look. “He’s got an atomic bomb in his chest.”

“He’s working on controlling it,” you insisted. “He’s gotten a lot better!”

Louisa threw her hands upward in exasperation and turned to leave you in the hall. You stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“Look, I get it,” you said, meeting her gaze directly. “You’re worried about me. But here’s the thing…you don’t have to do that. I’m the one who looks out for you, remember?”

Once again, she frowned at you. “Why, just because you’re older?”

You gave her a teasing smile.

“Well, yeah.” Still, you grasped both of her arms, now crossed in front of her chest. “Lou, haven’t I always taken care of you?”

“Okay, yeah,” she said. “But who takes care of you? Who makes sure you’re all right?”

You gave her a patient, if knowing look.

She grimaced. “Oh, don’t you say it.”

“Honestly, Lou. He does take care of me…he makes me feel safe.” You bit your lip, and your eyes began to well up with the sting of tears, emotion rising in your throat. “I’ve never had that. Ever.”

Your sister released a heavy sigh. “I know.”

“Then can you actually try to get to know him? Please?” You rubbed her arms, pleading with your eyes. You wanted your family to like your boyfriend, but it was so much more than that. You didn’t want to have separate worlds. Everyone in this house was part of your family, and that now included Ben.

The longer she looked into your imploring eyes, Louisa’s grimace lightened, just a touch. “I’ll think about it.”

You smiled then, warmly as you hugged your sister. You then kissed her on the cheek, leaving the bright red imprint of your lipstick.

When you went back into the kitchen, your better mood was ruined pretty quickly by watching your aunt run your mother around the kitchen with demands and instructions. You decided to jump into the fray, taking a large serving bowl out of Marie’s hands before it tipped over.

“How’s the ham doing?” you asked.

“About half an hour or so, I think,” Trina said. “Maybe forty-five.”

“Okay, and what’s left?”

“Let’s get the desserts ready.”

While your help sorely relieved your mother, it was actually a terrible idea for your mental health. When you could take no more of Trina’s irritating, commanding voice in your ear, you had to take a breath (as well as down a full glass of wine).

You wordlessly asked Louisa to tag in for you before you traveled into the living room.

There you found Ben immersed in a baseball game with Grandpa George. Both men only looked up at you when you stood near the couch with crossed arms. Your nerves were on edge, your blood still just short of boiling, but you took pains to look pleasant.

“Who’s winning?” you asked.

Ben quirked a smile at the sight of you, while George gave his more freely.

“5 to 3. It’s close on the Mets,” he said. You realized then that you hadn’t even hugged your grandfather yet.

“Oh my God, Grandpa! I’m so sorry,” you said with a frown. You went over to hug him. “Trina has me all out of whack.”

George chuckled and patted you warmly on the back. “Why do you think I’m out here?”

You sighed with a wry smile. You then turned to Great Aunt Sylvia, who was still passed out in the recliner.

“Aunt Sylvia?” you tried. You went over to her and touched her arm.

“Leave her be, hun,” George told you. “Only the smell of food’ll rouse that woman.”

Your smile deepened. Then you turned to Ben, who’d been watching you with reserved interest. He’d never seen you with the rest of your family before.

You went to him on his side of the couch and asked, in a tone deceptively light, “How about a tour of the house? You haven’t even seen it all.”

He could admit, it was a fairly big house for just your mother, but he was more interested in the game.

“I’m watching this,” he said, gesturing at the screen. However, when he saw the tight press of your lips, he knew something wasn’t right with you. You were trying to tell him something with your eyes, he just didn’t know what.

You leaned down, subtly grabbing his thigh.

“I need you,” you whispered in his ear. “Now.”

The tone of your voice set his blood alight with new interest.

Ben’s resulting smirk was subtle, but edged.

“A tour it is.”

AN: Just when you thought you'd seen the last of my BMD cliffhangers. 😏

How'd you like Ben's introduction to his girlfriend's family? I also sincerely hope you don't have an "Aunt Trina" in your life. 🙄

Next Time:

He grabbed your arms and meant to kiss you, but you stopped him with your fingers against his lips.

“Two rules: this lipstick doesn’t come off. And no. Ripping. The dress.”

Keep reading: PART 3

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watchmegetobsessed · 1 year

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BULLETPROOF

A/N: *screams in excitement* its here!!! its finally here!!! im so happy i finally got to finish a longer fic without hitting rockbottom with it. this one was very easy to write, i think i was heavily inspired by the night agent series on netflix lol now im very excited for yall to read it!!

WORD COUNT: 12.5k

WARNING: gun use, getting shot, blood, stalking, bullying

SUMMARY: Being Eroda's first daughter is not all sunshine and rainbows. It's tough out there when people are so fast to judge you and turn their back on you. But there is one person who's been there for you all along. Your bodyguard, Harry.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

The wine is nice. The salad is tragic, probably the worst you’ve ever had. You wonder how dessert will turn out to be, could be good or poisonous at this point.

The company?

Well, at least he is not staring at your breasts.

Going out with Jaiden sounded a lot more fun when he asked you out in the library, but now that you’ve been listening to him speak for the past thirty-two minutes, you’re counting it, he appears to be just another douche who wants to brag about you at the next frat party. He probably thinks he is doing well and he might get lucky once you leave the restaurant, but there are two reasons why that won’t happen.

One, you spotted some tomato sauce on his left hand before he left to the restroom and when he came back it was still there, he did not wash his hands and then touched the garlic bread. You’ve pushed the basket out of your view discreetly after that. It’s already a very strong point, but the second one is the real deal.

There is absolutely no way the three agents, one by the door, one by the window and one at two tables from you would be okay with assisting to your hookup. Well, it’s not that they would have a choice, if you think of it. But think about it: even if he weren’t a pig, this is how it would go.

Arriving to Jaiden’s building you would be told to wait outside with Morrison, while Jackson and Styles go up and check out Jaiden’s place. Then they would come down to get you. If the mood weren’t dead by this point, you’d have to go up and start the action with one agent down in front of the building, one by the front door and then the worst, you just know Styles would stand by the bedroom door like a statue, listening closely to everything happening inside.

Then when it would be over you’d have to leave with the three men around you and return to your place. Madness. Pure comedy.

“What do you think?”

Jaiden’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts about the ridiculous daydream of tonight and you realize you have no idea what he’s been talking about in the last seven minutes.

“Um, sorry?” you clear your throat, reaching for the wine.

“I was asking you about how…”

You look over his shoulder and spot Styles through the glass door, zoning out of the conversation in record time.

He is wearing civil clothes, all three of the agents are, that was the deal when you’re out somewhere, with friends or on a date which happen once in a leap year, to be honest. He’s wearing a black t-shirt with a black bomber jacket over, simple, dark jeans and trainers. You wonder if this is actually his style, if this is how he dresses when he is not on duty, when he is running errands or meeting up with his friends for drinks. You only see him when he is responsible for protecting you at all cost, he’s been head of your security team for the past two years and it’s been a rollercoaster of a ride.

He was a real pain in the ass at the beginning, he would jump at every possible noise, he dragged you out of class once because someone’s pen clicked louder than the usual. Fuck, you lost count of the times you screamed at him, asking what was his problem, if he lost his mind and every time he just stood there, like a fucking rock and then just nodded at the end and carried on with his nonsense.

It took some time and lots of communication to find balance. You realized he would never listen to you when you’re screaming from the top of your lungs and you had to accept that he is just doing his job. So you sat down with him and your father, the president of Eroda to talk about boundaries.

Things have been better since then and the two of you actually work well together. Most of the times.

He was next to you at every major event, ups and downs, he drove you home after you confronted your last serious boyfriend about how he cheated on you with three different girls, you sobbed like a baby and couldn’t even open the lock on your front door. He took the keys gently from your hand and did it for you. When you woke up in the morning the fridge was stocked with your favorites. You never asked, but you know he did it.

He has attended concerts and parties with you, shadowing you even when you had to get tampons in the middle of the night. You bet he knows what brand and size you use too at this point. As much as he’d gotten on your nerves millions of times… you like the guy. He is straight forward, always speaks his mind if asked, he sees things in a very rational way. He’s ambitious and hard-working and most of all, trustworthy.

He might actually be your best friend.

How tragic, you consider your head of security to be your best friend! This must be the end here…

“You’re really not listening, are you?” Jaiden laughs, but it’s dry, he looks pissed when you look back at him.

“Sorry, it’s been… a long week. And honestly, I kind of lost interest when you started talking about football, since I know nothing about it.”

“Wow, okay, so what were you expecting? Brainstorming about possible ways to stop the climate change?” he scoffs and you actually think about just standing up and leaving.

“No, but on a date you usually talk about things you both like. I guess we have nothing in common, then. So why don’t we—“

“You really know how to make people feel stupid.”

“Excuse me?” Your eyebrows shoot up, this is getting interesting.

“Just because daddy runs the country, doesn’t mean you’re above us all. Don’t have to be such a snob.”

“Oh, it wasn’t even me being a snob,” you retort with a forced smile as you grab your bag from the table and from the corner of your eyes you already see the agents moving. “It’s been a lovely evening, but I think we’re better as… I would say friends, but it wouldn’t be true. Bye, Jaiden.”

You stand and plan to march past him to meet Morrison and Jackson to head out, but Jaiden is not done, it seems. He jumps to his feet and his hand grabs your upper arm, pulling you back. He barely just opens his mouth when Hell breaks loose.

Morrison is first to get his hands on him, yanking him away from you while Jackson tears his hand off you, then it gets twisted behind him and Styles arrives, smacking your date up against the wall.

The whole restaurant is staring at you and you just want the ground to open beneath you.

You stop at your front door out of instinct, already knowing they have to sweep through the place before you could enter. Styles stands beside you and waits for Morrison and Jackson to return. When it’s confirmed you walk in, a blank look on your face.

“Have a nice night, guys. Thank you for tonight,” you tell them in a robotic voice. Morrison and Jackson says good night and you hear the door closing, but you know you’re not alone.

Styles stands by the door and you can feel him watching your every move as you put your heels away and take your earrings out.

“Are you gonna give me a lecture about choosing guys more wisely?” you ask, finally facing him. He’s standing with his hands clasped together at the front, his usual pose, but it’s a bit odd without his usual suit.

“No,” he answers shortly and you wait for him to say whatever is on his mind. “Just wanted to ask if you’re alright.”

“My arm is fine, you don’t ha—“

“I wasn’t asking about your arm.”

You stare back at him in silence, everything just dawns on you all at once and your chest feels like burning.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you breathe out, but then a tear rolls down your face.

You see the change in him instantly. His eyes soften as he walks over to you, his gaze frantically searching your face, probably trying to figure out what to do. They don’t tell agents how to deal with young, crying women who feel like they are going to die alone.

“I’m fine, really,” you say again and he pulls out a tissue from his pocket, handing it over to you.

“He was a douche. Don’t take it too seriously.”

“How many disastrous dates have I been on in the past year?” you ask with a shaking voice. He doesn’t answer, just clenches his jaw. “You know damn well that it was my eleventh. You were there at all of them. I can’t help but start to think that something must be wrong with me and not with them.”

“Nothing is wrong with you. They were… weird guys. They were the problem, not you.”

“So then it’s just my taste that’s trash, right?” you let out a bitter laugh, hoping that making fun of yourself would help, but it doesn’t. It never does.

“Finding the right person is hard. You have to give it time.”

“I’m impatient, if you haven’t noticed.”

“I have. The first day I met you.”

There it is.

That teeny tiny smile that barely just curls up the corners of his mouth but it drives you insane. Because it’s so rare, it’s so intimate and every time you see it the urge to kiss it gets harder and harder.

Yes, it’s such a cliché, but you do have a crush on your bodyguard. You fought it, you really did, but one day you had to realize there’s nothing you can do about it. Now you’re just trying to live with it but moments like this make it really hard not to overstep certain boundaries. For one, you really shouldn’t have feelings for someone whose job is to protect your life at all cost. Your father would have a heart attack if he found out you’re hooking up with an agent. And two… he might be nice to you, a real friend, but you feel like there’s no way he would ever feel the same way about you. Hell, sometimes, on your worse days you even question his friendship. What if it’s all just the job for him? To take care of your fragile little soul?

You’re awfully lonely.

“Get some rest, you have an 8 am class in the morning.”

He steps back and the smile is gone just like that.

“Yes sir!” you salute him, to which you just get a bored look before he takes one last look around and walks out to check in with the night shift agents outside your door.

You’d rather spend this Saturday evening locked up in your bedroom, watching Criminal Minds and eating popcorn, but tonight is one of those occasions where you have to make an official appearance as the president’s daughter.

You’ve definitely woken up on the wrong side of the bed, nothing went as you planned so far and you even had a fight with Styles because he ended your morning run earlier when a group of obnoxious fratboys appeared on the football field next to the running track and they accidentally threw a ball in your way.

You have not talked to him since, haven’t even seen him, but you know for a fact he will be coming with you tonight. He is there at every official event, never missing one.

There’s a soft knock on the front door just when you’ve finished getting dressed. You shuffle over to the door and opening you find yourself facing Styles in his usual suit, a change from the workout clothes he wore in the morning.

Fuck, you want to act grumpy still, but he looks especially good with slightly more tamed than usually and he is freshly shaven.

“Ready to go?” he asks.

“Not yet. Come and help me, please,” you say as you turn around, but you notice he is not following you. “Come on, I won’t bite your head off.”

With a tiny frown he finally moves and follows you into your bedroom where you grab the diamond necklace you want to wear tonight.

“Can you put it on, please?”

He takes the necklace, holding it so gently, you have never seen him handle something with so much care.

Maybe only you.

You turn around and hold your hair up as he reaches around your neck and you bit back a moan when his fingers brush against your collarbone. He fidgets with the clasp for a few moments before taking a step back once it’s done.

“Do you think I can make an early Irish exit tonight?” you ask, stepping into your heels and he offers you a hand that you gladly take to help the process. Once you’re done you head out, Styles following you right behind.

“Don’t think the president would appreciate it.”

“Oh, I know him well, I think I can have a pass from him.”

It’s another event where you feel absolutely useless, you’re just there so your father could show off.

“…And this is my daughter, Y/N. She is studying law!... She is top of her class, yes… Isn’t she a lovely young woman?...”

The smile on your face starts to hurt when you decide to take a break from all the guests that you know nothing about but they all seem to be very familiar with you.

“I’m gonna go out for a bit,” you tell Styles who’s been your shadow all night, three other agents watching your every step as well from different points of the room.

“Let me che—“

“I think there’s no danger out on the balcony, everyone has been thoroughly checked here, I’ll be fine for five minutes.”

You have a staring match for a minute where he weighs in on your words before finally nodding.

“Five minutes,” he says, opening the door for you.

“Start the fucking clock,” you mumble under your breath.

As you stand by the railing, staring out into the night you feel more deflated than ever. Like you’ve lost every ounce of energy and the urge to just scream is quite tempting. This is not the life you dreamed of, but it is what your father always wanted and you sometimes feel like a terrible daughter for being so displeased. You do have privileges others would never get to experience, but you’ve never felt lonelier and more out of place. The way here showed you how shallow your friendships have been, now only have about three people you consider your friend and one is your bodyguard, one is studying in Switzerland and the third is… Wait, there’s no third. That’s it, you have two friends.

You hear Styles stepping closer and you already know what he is about to say.

“I know my time is up, but if you dare to remind me, I’m pushing you off this balcony.”

Turning around you face him, ready to fight him for some more time, but you’re surprised to see him with that tiny smile on his face.

“You’re really moody today,” he states, but it’s not one of those smartass comments he usually makes, he is teasing you.

“Surprising?”

“A little bit. Are you… Are you still upset about your date?” His face turns serious.

“I was never upset about the date specifically. I was upset because… Whatever, it doesn’t matter.”

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“Stop being so fucking polite,” you groan.

“I can’t be rude to you, I would lose my job.”

“You’ve been rude to me on several occasions! Especially at the beginning!” you accuse him.

“I was never rude. I was honest.”

“Jesus, you are so annoying,” you roll your eyes that earns a smirk from him.

“That’s not my job, but I tend to be that often.”

“I might be moody, but you’re awfully cheeky tonight. What’s gotten into you?”

You head back inside, Styles following you.

“Don’t know, guess I’m just in a good mood.”

“Alright, then I’ll need a drink to put up with this new side of yours.”

And that’s what you did, but you didn’t stop at one drink. You didn’t plan to, but you successfully got so drunk Styles had to rescue you out of the venue before your father saw you. After all, you did make an Irish exit.

In the car you can tell Harry is not in the same good mood, he looks rather pissed as he drives you back home, constantly checking the mirrors to see if Morrison and Jackson are behind you.

“Aw, did I make your job harder?” you pout, but then start laughing as you look at his hard stare. His profile looks annoyingly beautiful and you just want to draw the slope of his nose with your finger.

“No, but it would have been nice if I didn’t have to bring you out through the back door on my shoulder, because you kept running away.”

You start laughing as he recites what happened just about fifteen minutes ago when he was trying to chase you down to get you into the car and away from anyone that could ruin your father’s political career if they saw his daughter running around drunk.

“Don’t be so pissed, your eyebrows will glue together one day, you pull the together way too much,” you snort out a laugh as you slide lower in your seat.

It’s an hour long drive and of course, you fall asleep soon. When you open your eyes next, you see that you’re already in the garage of your building.

“Come on, you need to get to bed.” Styles opens the car door, but you’re still half drunk and half asleep, so you just mumble something and close your eyes back. “Y/N, you can’t spend the night in the car.”

“Says who?” you breathe out.

For a few seconds nothing happens and you start drifting back to sleep when you feel an arm behind your back and one under your knees. You faintly realize that you’re being carried up to your apartment and when you force yourself to open your eyes, you realize that it’s Styles.

“Mm, is this also in your job description?” you groggily tease him, barely able to keep your eyes open. “Mr. Styles. Harry. Can I… call you that?”

“Call me whatever you want,” he answers and then waits in front of the apartment while it’s checked out. With the last bits of your energy you study his face that’s now dangerously up close. He is carrying you like you weigh nothing, his strong hold keeping you safe.

“Oh, don’t tell me stuff like that,” you chuckle, your eyes closing as you push down a yawn. You hear the agents coming out of your apartment, saying it’s clear before Harry starts walking again and a few moments later you’re laid down on your bed.

“You have to change, Y/N,” he tells you, pulling your heels off your sore feet. Groaning, you sit up and he helps you up to a standing position before turning around to walk out, but you stop him, pulling him back by his hand.

“I can’t get this off alone,” you say, nodding down at your dress. You catch the hesitation in his eyes as he weighs in the situation and steps back at last.

You turn around and move your hair so he can access the zipper. He doesn’t move instantly and you’re almost about to turn around when you finally feel his touch on your back. He places one hand to your shoulder blade, holding the dress in place while he pulls the zipper down with the other.

Slowly.

So slowly, it’s almost like foreplay.

Especially since you have no bra underneath, so the lower he gets the more skin he is able to see. The silky dress loosens around your body and you know he is looking at your bare back. With one hand you keep the dress to your chest, but the other one lets go of your hair as you turn back around to face him.

The alcohol is working eagerly in your system and you’re feeling blunt and risky as you hold your chin high with a half smirk.

“Where did your cheekiness go, Harry?”

“I’m gonna go now.” He gulps hard as he backs away towards the door, but you follow him.

“Am I that scary? That you’re running away?”

“Y/N, stop.” He looks into your eyes as he finally stops and his green irises appear dangerously dark as he stares back at you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you shrug innocently as you keep walking towards him until you’re just inches away from his chest. “Have you never thought of me like that?”

He doesn’t answer, but you don’t see disgust on his face and it’s enough for you to keep pushing.

“Because I have. Several times. On nights when I knew you were outside and then other times when I didn’t know where you were but I was hoping you were thinking of me.”

He is still completely silent, though his eyes are throwing fireworks your way when one of the straps of your dress slips down your shoulder.

“I want you and I want you to want me too, Harry,” you whisper as you move even closer, your hand that’s holding your dress pushing to his chest while the other moves up to the base of his neck. His skin is burning and you’re desperate to feel it underneath his crispy dress shirt too.

But before you could close the gap, he pulls back and it’s like a slap across your face.

“Go to bed, Y/N. You need to sleep.”

“But think about it, you could brag about fucking the president’s daughter, wouldn’t you want that? You’d be the man, Harry.”

Your words are like venom as you look at him, your chest heaving, your heart hammering under your hand.

“Stop talking before you say something you might regret,” he warns you.

“So you’re not man enough to fuck me? How should I trust you with my life then if you can’t even make me come?” you call after him when he is already out of the bedroom.

He freezes and the words sink in as you stare at the back of his head. You expect him to turn around and lecture you, to tell you how cheap you sounded, but instead he just walks out of the apartment and leaves you to your spiraling, drunk thoughts.

You realize you never actually knew panic and terror until you wake up the next morning, realizing what you did last night. That you have to face Harry after you almost begged him to fuck you and then said he is not man enough to be your guard because he didn’t have sex with you.

You have an afternoon yoga class on Sunday that you very much consider canceling on just so you don’t have to face Harry, but you can’t hide in your apartment forever, you’d have to meet him again sooner or later. So when it’s time for you to leave and you hear the knock on your door you open it with shaking hands, relief washing over you instantly when you find DeLuca standing in front of you, no trace of Harry.

That means you have some more time to figure out how to deal with the situation you got yourself into. Yoga actually helps you find some peace of mind, but only until you leave and catch on Jackson’s radio before getting into the car, Harry’s voice asking for a report.

He is working and he’ll be at your apartment, meaning that you have to go through the most awkward situation ever in about fifteen minutes.

It all happens as if you were in a movie. Arriving at the garage Jackson opens the door for you, DeLuca rounds the car and right at that moment the doors to the elevator swing open and Harry walks out with two other agents. Your mouth goes dry and you’re getting ready to fake your death, but things take a turn then.

“DeLuca, take her to the second floor, it’s been cleared. Jackson, Morrow, come with us.” Harry instructs the agents and you realize something is wrong.

“What? What’s happening?”

There’s an apartment on the second floor for the agents, like their own little headquarter and it’s usually the safe place they take you to whenever something looks suspicious. Harry looks at you, worry etched onto his face as he places a hand to your back and leads you over to DeLuca.

“There’s been a security alert while you were away, we need to check the whole building.”

“Alert? What kind?”

“Someone tried to get into your place,” is all he says before he passes you over to DeLuca and disappears with the other agents.

The time you spend on the second floor feels like forever, but it’s actually only twelve minutes. They sweep through the whole building and check the system, trying to find out what happened, but the cameras only caught a man in a black hoodie who stopped at your door, fidgeted with the lock for a while but couldn’t get in so he left. When it’s safe for you to return to your own place you’re walked back by two agents, but the tension is still thick.

You hear Harry doubling the agents for the rest of the day and night and he checks your apartment one last time himself again when his phone rings and you know it’s your dad calling from the tone he answers the call.

“Yes, sir. Passing the phone over,” Harry says after the briefing of the situation and then holds the phone out to you.

“Dad?”

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, I wasn’t here.”

“Alright. We’ll have some extra agents around you for a while. I know you don’t like the guardedam, but we have to do it until we find out who it was.”

“Okay.”

You talk a little more and then you give the phone back to Harry, because your dad wants to have a few words with him. He listens carefully for a while and then walks out of the apartment, leaving you wondering what else there could be, but your dad could be a little too overprotective, so you’re sure he is just fussing about the situation.

You’ve just finished making yourself a cup of tea when Harry returns. He would never admit it, but you can tell this incident is stressing him out.

“Everything alright with my dad? He didn’t tell you off or anything, right?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “But you won’t like what I’m going to say. You need to have an agent in here with you until we get to the bottom of this situation.”

“Will it be you?” The question rolls off your tongue before you could even think about it.

“If you want me, yes.”

“I feel the safest with you.”

It’s the truth. Even though the things you told him, screamed at him, don’t agree, he is still the one you trust the most around here to have in your apartment with you.

“Okay,” he nods. “I have to talk to the team, so–”

“Wait!” you stop him from leaving, knowing well you need to have this conversation. Swallowing hard you leave the tea on the kitchen counter and round the island to get closer to him, but still keep some distance. “I want to… I want to apologize for last night. My behavior was… Unforgivable.”

“No need to apologize.”

“Don’t bullshit me,” you give him a hard look. “I had too much to drink, I didn’t… I wasn’t thinking. So… I’m sorry.”

He stares back at you for seconds that feel like forever before he finally nods and you know it’s not just a meaningless reaction to get you out of his hair.

“Okay.”

“We’re… we’re good?”

“Yes. But I really need to go now.”

“Alright,” you clear your throat as you watch him walk towards the door, but he turns back one last time. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Okay.”

And with that, he is off to do his job.

You spend the rest of Sunday studying and you get so focused on your textbooks and notes that you totally forget about Harry’s return and you don’t even notice it. So when you wander out of your bedroom after your brain has been fried from everything you studied, you almost scream when you see Harry standing in the living room by the window.

“Holy shit!” you snap a hand to your chest to calm your racing heart.

“What happened?” He moves fast like a cat, instantly checking the room for possible dangers.

“Nothing happened, I just… forgot you’d be here,” you admit with a soft chuckle as you head out to the kitchen. “It’s kind of creepy how you’re just standing there.”

“I can see the street from here as well,” he answers, as if it was such an obvious thing to say.

As you move around the kitchen, heating some leftovers up you catch him looking at you, or to be more precise, your legs that are almost completely bare thanks to the cotton shorts you’re wearing.

Last night was a disaster, but now that the shame has settled in you, something else has been lingering in the back of your mind. The sense of hesitation you experienced when you were trying to seduce him embarrassing yourself has been on your mind. How he didn’t move away instantly, how it looked like he was fighting himself, so it gives you the idea that a tiny part of him does look at you the same way you look at him.

The way he is looking you up is another boost to the theory.

“Any news about the intruder?” you casually ask, ignoring his stare that quickly slips away from you when you speak up.

“Not yet. But we’re working on it.”

“Do you think… it’s something serious? Like someone is after me?” Leaning onto the kitchen island you play with the spoon in your hand as you look at him, waiting for his response.

“I wouldn’t go into guessing. I’m more of a–”

“Of a fan of factual planning, I know,” you finish his sentence with a smile. You’ve heard it from him several times, word by word.

Grabbing the bowl you round the island and stop a few feet away from him.

“I really do trust you, Harry. With my life.”

You feel like you had to let him know again after last night. The way you questioned his ability to protect you was not fair, he gave you no reason to believe he is not the best person for the job. There’s a reason why he is head of the team.

“Thank you,” is all he says. He is back to his distant self that only focuses on work. You know in times like this it’s better to play by the rules and retreat.

“I’m gonna head to bed soon. Good night, Harry.”

“Good night, Y/N.”

Everything falls back to a somewhat normal routine. Following the incident your team almost doubles, but nothing actually happens and the building’s security system gets an update so three weeks later you’re back to your usual with only slight changes.

Like how there’s an agent in your living room during the night.

There was a discussion about positioning someone inside your apartment and they explained to you why it’s better to have someone with you during the night. You understood and agreed to do it under one condition: you have to approve of the agents that can take the position. There are three of them and of course, Harry is in that team.

He’s been taking up the inside position as much as he can. He never asked you, but maybe he figured you know him the best and feel the most comfortable with him inside.

Most of the time he hangs out in the living room. He doesn’t stand by the window all the time, you’ve caught him sitting in the armchair, walking around, stretching his limbs. To make it less miserable for him you spend a lot of time in front of the TV, mostly to hopefully entertain him at least a bit now that he’s stuck with you more than ever. For days, he didn’t even look at the screen, but lately you’ve caught him following the show several times, so you’re religiously keeping this habit up.

The awkwardness has faded, but it definitely taught you a lesson. You better not get drunk when Harry is around and that’s like… all the time.

Everything seems to be back to it’s extraordinary normal that you’ve been used to for the past few years.

Today is a special day, however. You’ve been part of a case study competition, your criminal law professor suggested you enter and you’ve worked insanely hard on your case for the past three months that earned you first place. They are holding a little award ceremony today and it will finally be your moment. You will be in the spotlight because of something you worked hard for and not because your father is the leader of the country.

He promised to be there and watch you accept your well-deserved award and you’re excited to make him proud.

You started the day early and channeled your excitement into a long morning run before spending the noon at a salon to get your hair and nails done for the occasion. You might be the president’s daughter, but you’re a woman after all and you love a good pampering before an event.

Now you’re sitting in you closet, trying to figure out what to wear, all the outfits you’ve tried on but decided against are lying on the floor around you in piles. You start to think you should have gone shopping, but then you find the perfect dress, a simple, but elegant black dress with a deeper back cut. You pair them with a pair of designer heels and some statement earrings to bring some light into this quite dark set and you’re all done.

When you walk out of the bedroom Harry is standing by the window in his usual black suit white shirt attire. His eyes snap over to you and this time he can’t hide how he checks you out from head to toe. You can feel the heat crawling up your neck to your cheeks and ears.

“What do you think?” you ask, giving him a twirl.

“You look… very professional,” he answers. It’s not what you expected, but you know he meant it in the best possible way.

“Has my dad’s plane landed?”

“I haven’t gotten any news from his team yet, but I’m sure he’ll be there on time. Shall we leave?”

“Yeah,” you nod, feeling out of breath. An unsettling feeling sinks into your gut, but you brush it off as Harry helps you put on your coat and you leave the apartment in the ring of agents.

Because of your attendance, the event’s security has been obviously raised and a group of agents have been at the venue long before your arrival, checking every corner so when you’re finally there you can walk in without having to wait in the car.

The competition had several different fields so there will be more students awarded today, the room is full of winners, their proud professors and parents as well. You take your assigned seat and nervously look around, searching for any sign of your father, but there’s none, so you’re left with just waiting.

It’s killing you, so you text him but you get no response. He should have landed by now to make it in time, his silence is raising concern in you now.

“Harry? Can you please reach my father’s security team?” you ask and nodding he takes a few steps back as he pulls his phone out of his pocket.

Something is off, you can feel it in your guts and you fucking hate it. It takes forever for Harry to turn back to you, right when everyone starts clapping, because the dean has entered the stage to start the ceremony, but you’re only looking at Harry.

“What did they say?”

“Y/N, he is… He is not coming.”

“What?” It feels like a punch in your stomach and you wish Harry would say it’s just a joke, that he is about to walk in any moment, but the look on his face tells you it’s the truth.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you whisper as you turn back to face the stage, your throat closing up while you fight your tears.

It was the first thing you asked from him in so long. You’ve been there for him every step of the way and today you just needed your father to be here and be proud of you, but he ditched you. There’s been an ongoing joke on the internet that it will always be the country before you for your dad and you even laughed about it before, but now it’s your cruel reality.

You watch the winners get called on the stage one by one and the willingness to do the same dies in you with every passing moment.

“Y/N?” Harry taps your shoulder and you snap out of your thoughts only to realize your name has been called.

“Fuck,” you mumble as you stand from your seat, three agents moving with you, taking their places as you walk up to the stage and shake hands with the dean. Every first place winner has said a few words, so now it’s your turn at the microphone, but it’s like you’ve forgotten how to talk. Looking around you see the sea of faces, everyone is waiting for you to finally say something. Your eyes land on Harry and he gives you a tiny nod and somehow you find your voice.

You manage to say a few sentences about the importance of your study and thank the school for the opportunity before you walk off the stage. You’re expected to return to your seat, but instead, you’re heading to the restroom.

The dam breaks and tears start rolling down your face. You completely ignore the protocol, that an agent has to check the room before you enter and a hand pulls you back before you could rush into the ladies room.

“Y/N, I need to–”

“I don’t want to have the fucking toilet checked, I want to have some fucking privacy!” you snap at him, tears rolling down your face and you’re very close to start sobbing like a child. Harry looks back at you with shock on his face, this time he can’t even mask it, probably because he has never seen you like this.

“Okay, but–”

You don’t wait for him to finish, just push your way inside and don’t stop until you reach a sink that you can lean onto, the sobs finally erupting from your chest.

Betrayal, disappointment and helplessness wash over you, pulling you right into a possible emotional breakdown, though you’re still fighting it as you open the tap and splash some cold water into your face.

You didn’t realize Harry followed you inside, so when you feel a hand on your back you almost get a heart attack.

“Hey, it’s just me, it’s okay,” Harry holds his palms up when you jump back, gasping for air because of the panic and crying at the same time.

“I s-said I-I wanted p-privacy!” you sob shaking your head.

“I can’t just let you walk in here alone when you can barely breathe!”

“I don’t want to do this! I don’t fucking want to do this!” you cry, leaning your back against the cold, tiled wall as you let yourself fall apart for the first time in forever. You’ve been trying to be calm and collected as much as possible, but so much has piled up on you that your father not showing up was the last straw, the cherry on top.

“Y/N, calm down, take a deep breath, okay?” Harry tries to calm you down, but you just keep shaking your head and sobbing.

“He didn’t come! It was the only thing… I asked from him!”

“I’m sure he has a reason to–”

“I don’t fucking care! He doesn’t care about me! No one fucking does! I’m just… I have no one left! No one!”

“Don’t say that, Y/N. There are people who care about you.”

“Who? Who cares about me!” you scream at him, finally looking into his eyes and his gaze pierces into yours as he answers.

“Me. I care about you.”

“It’s your fucking job to protect me, it’s not the same!”

Your chest is heaving and you must look like a complete mess, but at this moment nothing really matters. Harry looks back at you like you just seriously hurt his feelings, like what you said was just as disappointing as your father not showing up. Long moments pass by without him saying anything and you start to think he’ll just walk out like he did that night you got drunk, but then he steps closer, definitely crossing the line of comfortable distance.

“If you think you’re just a job to me, you couldn’t be more wrong.”

“Don’t lie to me,” you beg in a whisper.

“Don’t call me a fucking liar,” he snaps back and it’s the first time you hear him swear. His pupils have swallowed his irises and his breathing is almost as wild as yours as he stares at you, practically burning a hole into your face.

“You left me that night. Without a word. I told you I wanted you and you walked out. That does give me a certain message.”

“You were drunk out of your mind, telling me to fuck you. I would have never forgiven myself if I touched you. I had no reason to believe you wouldn’t regret it in the morning and ask to never see me again. That would have been the end of my career and the end of… me.”

Though your cheeks are still soaked from your tears, his words have stopped your crying and now you can’t even tell what you’re feeling. You have no idea what to do or say, how to react and you can’t believe how this situation is turning out to be.

“I still want you the same,” you whisper, your mouth deciding on what to say because your brain is in complete shock.

Harry exhales sharply through his nose, his eyes fall closed and you can tell he is fighting himself, so you want to push him over the edge. Reaching up you cup his cheek in your hand, he doesn’t move at first, but then he leans into your touch and that’s when you push yourself away from the wall to get closer to him, but he pulls away.

There’s a second of devastation, but when he reaches to his earpiece you realize someone is talking to him.

“Copy. We’re in the restroom, give me the fastest route out.” He talks into his wrist before his eyes snap up to you.

“What happened?” you breathe out, feeling like your heart cannot take another shock at this moment, but you’ll have to deal with it anyway. He listens to the answer they give him through his com before talking to you.

“We need to get out. The guy who was at your apartment was spotted in the building.”

“What? Is he armed?” Harry takes your hand in his firm hold and gently, but confidently pulls you towards the door.

“We don’t know, he ran away, DeLuca and Jackson are after him, but we need to get you out of here.”

Your pulse is higher than ever, you feel dizzy and your brain is definitely shutting down, too much has happened in just minutes, you’re on survival mode. Harry must have noticed your state, because before he could open the door he turns to you, taking your face in his hands.

“It’s gonna be alright. I’m right here.”

“Okay,” you nod, blindly believing anything he says.

He then opens the door, steps out first to check what’s happening and returns to get you and you’re on your way to flee the building.

Circled by agents you follow Harry through hallways you’ve never been to until you somehow get to a back entrance. Your car is already there, waiting for you and you get in the back, lying down onto the seat, remembering that’s what Harry asked from you the last time you had to be rescued out of somewhere. You catch his face before he shuts the car door and he gives you a small nod.

You don’t experience much of what goes down at the venue, they take you to a safe spot and you wait there with three agents while the rest of your team is either in the venue or at your apartment, making sure there’s no one there.

Almost an hour goes by when Harry returns and you look at him, feeling on the edge to finally know something.

“We lost him. Your apartment is cleared, let’s get you home.”

You can tell he is beating himself up for letting the guy slip away and you already know he will put his walls back up.

He does one more check in the apartment himself before letting you inside.

“We are doubling the security for tonight and then we’ll talk about the changes tomorrow,” he lets you know, following you inside.

“Okay. Are you gonna stay in here?”

“Most likely,” he nods.

“Are you blaming yourself for tonight?”

He doesn’t answer, but his eyes talk for him.

“You couldn’t have spotted the guy anyway, you would have been with me either way.” You walk closer to him, but keep some distance, sensing his distress.

“I wasn’t focusing fully,” he hisses through his teeth.

“Nothing happened, you–”

“Y/N,” he stops you from talking. “I’m responsible for your safety. Today I put that responsibility behind my feelings and that cannot happen again.”

“Is this your way of saying… you don’t want me the way I want you?” Now you’re moving closer, you need to reduce the distance between the two of you, it’s like something is pulling you towards him, a force that you’re not strong enough to fight.

He stares at you for long seconds, taking a deep breath before he speaks up slowly in a calm manner.

“What I want does not matter when your safety is at risk. Let me… Let me do my job, let me do what I have to do to keep you safe. Please.”

It’s like he’s begging you, pleading for you to understand and… let go of him. And as much as you want it all to be different, you can’t go against his will and intentionally hurt him, there’s nothing you can do other than live with the pain. Like you always do.

“Okay,” you whisper and try your best to swallow back your tears, you’ve cried enough today.

Harry exhales, like he’s relieved you’re not putting up a fight and to your surprise he cradles the back of your head and pulls you closer so he can place a kiss to your forehead.

“I have to take care of a few things, Morrison will be in here until then, but I’ll be back soon, okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod weakly. His hand falls from the back of your head and you watch him turn around and walk out of the apartment.

You’re on autopilot. Have been for weeks.

Following the award ceremony things turned upside down once again. On one hand everyone has been on edge, because they couldn’t track the guy down, so your security has been doubled since then. Agents follow you everywhere, making it impossible to have a normal human interaction, not that you had plenty of friends to hang out with before. But still.

Your dad called that night and gave you some grand story about why he couldn’t make it to the ceremony, you told him it was fine, because you had no energy to lash out on him and you haven’t had a decent conversation with him since then. You can’t say it bothers you, it’s like there was a switch inside you that now allows you to give zero fucks about what your father does. You’ve canceled two events you were supposed to attend by his side, using the mystery intruder as an excuse, saying that you don’t feel safe out in public. You could tell he was annoyed, but didn’t question it.

And then there is the Harry situation. Or the lack of it, if you’d like. It’s been hurting like hell, but there’s nothing you can do other than keep your promise of letting go of him. It’s just really hard when you spend so much time with him and have him in your apartment almost every night.

You don’t watch TV anymore. You can’t bear being in the same room with him with no one else around. It’s hard enough to know he is on the other side of your bedroom door. You go back to coexisting, you silently follow his orders and not give him a headache when you know he already has a lot on his plate, he does his job in peace and everyone is happy.

Or not, but it doesn’t matter.

The school semester is nearing its end and you’re already planning to ask to stay here for the summer. You know your dad will flip, but you’ll at least try to make a deal with him to attend events in the summer if it means you don’t have to move back home that doesn’t even feel home anymore.

With your finals coming up you spend most of your time in the library. Surrounded by heavy books, hundreds of pages of notes, you’re working your ass off, because this is the only thing that could make you forget about your misery for a while.

It’s a Friday afternoon, almost evening and you’re still very much working on a paper in the almost entirely empty library. It’s a great time, because most students avoid the building on Fridays, more interested in parties than books, so it’s a lot more peaceful. It’s your way of distraction from the fact that you have to make an appearance tomorrow for your dad and you can’t bail out of it this time.

There are three agents near you and two more at the entrance, but Harry is not working now. He will probably take another night shift, not that you keep track of when he works…

You’re too focused to notice the group of people that come in, but when you spot a figure approaching you and the agents around you move instantly, you finally lift your head up from the book in front of you. You’re surprised to see Jaiden coming in your way, stopped by the agents.

“Jaiden?”

“Um, I just want to talk to her,” he says to the agents and you nod your head to let him through.

“What are you doing here?”

“Just wanted to give you something, thought you might be interested,” he shrugs as he passes you over a paper and with that he is already on his way, leaving you puzzled.

It’s a QR code so you grab your phone and read it and a website starts loading on your screen. When it finally loads, you feel all the blood rushing out of your head.

It’s a site basically dedicated to you, where people can send in anonymous comments and stories about you for everyone to read them. There are quite a few, a big chunk of them obviously from guys you’ve gone on dates with, dragging you through mud, a lot of them stating things that never even happened.

You just scroll and keep reading them in total disbelief and then you hear laughter. You look up and see Jaiden with a group of fratboys, having a blast seeing you go through the site before they hoard out of the library.

Your head is spinning and you feel like throwing up as you pack up your stuff as quickly as possible. It’s a struggle not to start sobbing on your way home, neither of the agents ask what’s wrong, because they are not your friend, they are there to keep you safe, but not from assholes, apparently. When you arrive to your apartment you see Harry already waiting by the door, but you avoid looking him in the eyes as you rush inside, wanting to lock yourself up in your room preferably forever.

The tears start rolling down your cheeks when you hear someone coming after you and you know it’s Harry.

“Y/N, is everything alright?”

“I’m fine,” you tell him, keeping your back facing him so he can’t see your face.

“Then look at me, please.”

You don’t move, just stand there, silently crying and there’s no way of fooling him, he knows you better than anyone and your shoulders are shaking as well. Slowly, you turn around for him to see your face.

“What happened?” he asks, stepping closer, but he still keeps some distance between the two of you.

“Nothing, I said I’m fine.”

“You’re obviously not fine, Y/N, don’t… don’t bullshit me, okay? Tell me what happened!”

He won’t give up, he won’t leave you alone until you say something so you pull your phone out of your pocket, open the website and hand it over to you. You watch him scroll for a minute before he looks up at you.

“We’re taking this down and we’ll find whoever did this,” he firmly says and before you could react he is already giving orders through his com. “They are on it. we’ll find them, don’t worry.” “Okay,” you breathe out and you turn around to lock yourself up in your bedroom, but he stops you.

“Y/N, wait!”

You look back at him, not even trying to mask how tired, defeated and hopeless you’re feeling. You must look like just a shadow of the person you used to be and the sight of you is probably just as depressing as you feel because it breaks the professional boundary that’s been between you and Harry.

He moves across the room and pulls you into his arms and you just start crying and sobbing uncontrollably while he holds you tight, gently rocking you from side to side to soothe you.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he murmurs into your hair and you just bury your face deeper into his neck, probably totally ruining his shirt, but neither of you cares about that right now.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” you sob, melting into his embrace, because it feels like the only safe place for you.

“I know. I wish I could help you. Tell me what I can do for you.”

“Just please don’t leave me, not tonight, please!” you beg and fully expect him to pull the wall back up, but instead he just holds you even tighter.

“I would never leave you, Y/N.”

The amount of times you had to fake laugh tonight is ridiculously over the roof. It’s another evening where you’re just a tool, something your father can brag about but you hold no influence or whatsoever.

You’re sipping on some champagne, but you’re careful with the alcohol consumption this time. Though you’re not sure how another situation like that last time would turn out now. Especially after that night after the website fiasco.

After soaking his shirt with your tears the two of you sat on the couch, you remained in Harry’s embrace and he talked you through it, until you momentarily forgot about what happened and somehow you ended up falling asleep. When you woke up you had a blanket over you and Harry was standing in his usual spot by the window, like a hound, watching out for danger. When he realized you woke up he walked you into your bedroom, tucked you in and sat beside you until you wófell back asleep.

The website was down by the morning and the school was informed about it as well, taking matters into their hands to punish those who created it. You didn’t want to know the names, you just wanted to forget about the whole thing.

That night changed things between you and Harry. You didn’t feel that wall between the two of you though there was still some distance, but it felt like you could overstep it easily. It’s like you’ve been dancing on a fence, still not sure which side you want to land on. You’re not planning to pressure him to choose, having him this close is already more than you had before so you’re happy to prolong it for as long as possible.

You have no idea where the conversation is heading around you, you’ve zoned out of it long minutes ago. It’s not that you don’t understand what politicians, influential people tend to talk about at events like this. It’s more about how you recognize some of them know nothing about the field they work at and still hold the power.

And you lost interest too.

Holding your champagne flute your eyes wander over the room until they settle on Harry. He is by the window, what a shocker, examining the sea of guests around you, watching out like a hawk until his gaze meets yours and his expression softens.

“Bored,” you mouth to him and you catch the smirk he tries hard to cover up.

“You got this,” he mouths back to which you frown, making him laugh.

His laugh.

You’ve been gifted with it more in the past few days than in the time you’ve known him and it’s definitely one of your favorite things in the entire world.

“Break?” you mouth once again and he just nods, moving instantly.

Five minutes later you’re out on the balcony with him, two guards standing by the door inside.

“This should be considered torture,” you sigh.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” he teases you.

“I’m not, I hate it here. Look around.” You stand beside him, staring inside at the sea of guests. “What am I doing here?”

“Supporting your dad.”

“I think he is fine without me,” you shrug, nodding towards him, he is standing in a circle of men, all of them pretending to be having a marvelous time, but you know for a fact at least two of those men would backstab him the first given chance. It’s all so pretentious and you’re tired of trying to be part of it for him.

“What would you like to do?” Harry asks.

“What do you mean?”

“If you could do anything, any job, anywhere, what would it be?”

You’ve never really thought of that before. A life that’s entirely what you want it to be is so far out of your reach that you never let yourself daydream about it. So now you take some time to think it through before sharing it with Harry.

“I would probably have a riding school,” is what you tell him at last. He looks at you surprised.

“Like… horses?”

“Yeah,” you smile softly, keeping your eyes ahead, staring at the people inside. “I used to ride a lot when I was smaller and I loved it a lot.”

“But you never do it anymore, why?”

“I wasn’t exceptional in it, never won any competitions so my dad thought I shouldn’t keep doing it. He talked me into quitting and I started learning French instead.”

“You speak French?” he asks in shock.

“No,” you chuckle, finally looking at him. “I was mad at him for making me quit horse riding so I never put any effort into my French classes, I can barely introduce myself.”

“Wow, such a rebel,” he chuckles quietly.

“What about you?”

“I don’t speak French.”

“I know that,” you roll your eyes. “I meant, what would you want to do if you could do anything?”

He curls his lips into his mouth as he thinks about it, his eyebrows furrowed.

“I think I would be living on a farm.”

“A farm?”

“Yeah. You know, growing stuff and keeping animals. I love the thought of growing everything I need.”

“That sounds lovely,” you smile at him. “I hope you get to do that one day.”

“I do too,” he nods and the two of you just stand there, watching the mingling and dancing guests.

It’s a moment you want to last longer, you feel close to him, like you’ve finally jumped off that fence and you’re running away. Together.

So at last you decide to give him a little push.

“I wish we could be dancing there too.”

Your voice is quiet, barely audible through the noises coming from inside and when he doesn’t say anything for a while you start to think he didn’t even hear it, or that he is ignoring your words because he doesn’t want to deal with them.

But then his hand gently takes yours, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I would… love that.”

Your chest feels like bursting and you wish you could just jump into his arms, but you know you can’t. So instead, you just stand there, enjoying this tiny, hidden moment that’s burning into your memories forever.

It was hard to focus on your conversations before, but now, after you’ve shared that special moment with Harry it’s kind of impossible.

You’re making your rounds around, chit-chatting and smiling as pleasantly as possible, but in your mind you’re still out on the balcony, holding hands with Harry.

Talking about him, you haven’t seen him in a little while. You look around, searching for him once again, probably for the millionth time in the past ten minutes, but you see no sign of him.

“Morrison, where’s Styles?” you ask the agent beside you.

“Your father asked to see him, Miss,” he informs you.

“What? Why?”

“I don’t know, Miss, I’m sorry.”

You try not to think much of it, but when you finally spot him in the crowd your stomach drops, because his expression is anxious and angry at the same time, though he is trying hard to mask it. But you know him too well.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, instantly ignoring the conversation you’ve been in before.

“Can’t talk right now, but we better leave.”

You don’t question him, just follow, though the way he is acting now is freaking you out. He is right next to you as you make your way out of the room, getting farther and farther from the rest of the guests.

“What happened?” you finally ask when you’re walking down the hallway that leads to the entrance.

“I don’t want to turn you against your father,” he answers, but now you’re just even more keen on knowing what’s going on.

“Harry, tell me!” you demand, stopping abruptly.

Not too willingly, but he comes to a halt as well, turning to face you as he leans closer.

“Your father kept it a secret that they got a letter yesterday in which someone threatened to hurt you today. He kept it from us, because he knew you wouldn’t come tonight if you found out.”

“What?” All the blood rushes out of your face as his words process.

“He strengthened security for your sake and thought it would be alright, but I don’t want to risk it, we need to get you somewhere safe until we get to the bottom of this whole thing.”

“Okay,” you nod, a shiver running down your spine at just the thought of that letter your father hid from you.

You’re nearing the exit when your father’s voice beams through the hallway, just when you’re already seeing your car outside.

“Y/N! Where are you going?!”

He is rushing towards you with his own security team circling him and you can’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

“I’m leaving!”

“And you didn’t think of at least saying goodbye?”

“I’m not doing anything for you anymore. Not when you’ve intentionally put me in risk just so you could use me at another event!”

The look he gives Harry says it all. He is pissed that Harry told you about the threat, that someone went against his will.

“It’s not that serious, Honey. We have everything under control.”

“Is that so? Then who sent the letter?”

“We don’t know it yet, but—”

“What if it’s the same guy that’s been stalking me? What if it really is something serious?” You’re finally lashing out on him, something you probably should have done a lot earlier, but you didn’t have the balls. You’re done being the obedient, supportive daughter to a father that’s not returning it at all.

“We doubled security and I have people working on it! No need to–”

“Don’t tell me what I need and don’t need to do! I don’t feel safe anywhere anymore! You knew I would panic if I found out about it but you chose to hide it so you could use me tonight to show people how great of a family we are when in reality, you give no fucks about me!”

“Y/N, that is not true. I didn’t want to stress you out, that’s why I didn’t tell you.”

Lie. That is such a big fucking lie.

“I’m done. I’m done with you. Call me when you’re ready to be my father.”

Turning around you’re on your way out to the car, you hear your dad calling after you, but Harry stops him and it’s the first time you hear him talk so harshly to your father.

And then all hell breaks loose. But it’s not because of Harry’s way of talking to the president.

You’re approaching the car confidently, eager to get away from your dad and the madness that surrounds him, Harry is following you right behind and as you keep your gaze on the car suddenly you realize.

It’s not yours.

Everything happens so fast, but at the same time it’s like it’s in slow motion.

A guy jumps out of the car and points a gun right at you. The agents around you launch forward, but he is several feet away, so they don’t reach him before he pulls the trigger and shoots at you. In that moment you believe you’re about to die. Gasping in surprise you completely freeze, but then get pushed to the side with so much force you smash against the wall, pain jolting through your left arm instantly as the shot of the gun rings in your ear.

You fall to the floor the same time the agents tackle the shooter. From the corner of your eyes you see how your ad is being dragged away from the scene before he could get hurt as well, even though he is shouting your name, it’s protocol to rescue him and take him to a safe place right away.

As you look to your right you see another person on the floor and your heart skips a beat when you realize that it’s Harry, and a pool of blood is underneath you, growing rapidly each second.

He took the shot that was meant for you.

The rest is a blur. You start screaming and try to reach him while two agents pull you up from the floor to take you away from the scene as well, your arm hurts like hell, but you just keep screaming for Harry.

At last you catch his face, you see him gasping for air, pure panic and fear all over his face, he looks at you one last time and you see a tear rolling down his face before you’re dragged away.

The constant beeping. It just keeps going and going and it’s driving him crazy.

Crazy enough to finally open his eyes.

Harry is more than confused about his surroundings, the hospital room looks sterile, but nice, very nice if you ask him, so he knows he is at some kind of private facility. It takes a couple of moments for the pain to set in but when it does, it comes with all the memories as well.

He was shot in his chest when he pushed you out of the way, he remembers the pain he felt then which was a lot worse and more intense than the dull, pressure like feeling in his chest right now. He remembers lying on the floor and looking at you as two agents pulled you away and he knows he said his goodbye in that moment, because he was convinced he would die.

He didn’t.

Now he is lying in a hospital bed, the machines hooked onto him keep beeping and tracking his vitals and when he turns his head slightly to the left the beeping intensifies because he sees you sleeping in an armchair next to his bed.

You look awfully uncomfortable, but still breathtakingly beautiful, your left arm is in a cast and you’re cradling it to your chest. As if you could sense his wandering gaze, you start moving around and you blink your eyes open at last, seeing that Harry is finally awake.

“Hey,” he breathes out, barely finding the energy to speak, but you burst into tears right away as you fall forward, one hand coming to the side of his head, the other one holding his hand on the mattress.

“You’re awake, oh my God, I really thought I lost you!” You sob and try to take in the sight of him conscious and talking, something you didn’t think you’d ever see again when you saw him lying on the floor three days ago.

“I’m okay, I’m right here,” he exhales as his other hand comes to take your hand by his face. “How are you? Are you okay?”

“Harry, you were literally shot and you’re asking if I’m okay?” you laugh through your tears, finally cracking a smile from him as well.

“That doesn’t mean I’m not worried about you.”

“I’m fine, just broke my hand, but it’s okay. How are you feeling? Does it hurt?”

“Kind of. But it’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad? The bullet missed your heart by one millimeter. Doctors said it’s a miracle you survived.”

“Well, at least I know I’m not bulletproof,” he tries to joke and it makes you laugh and that was his only intention.

You’ve stopped crying, but you wouldn’t move from beside him. You’ve been in this room since they brought him out of surgery and refused to leave since then. He reaches over and wipes your tears off your cheeks before cradling your face in his palm. You gladly lean into his touch and then turn your head to kiss into his hand without hesitation.

You fill him in on what happened. Tell him about how he was rushed to hospital and the guy was caught and it was confirmed he sent the letter and he was the one stalking you at your apartment and award ceremony as well. You were afraid it was someone you knew, but apparently he was just some psycho who wanted to hurt your dad by hurting you.

It was a wakeup call to your father. One that he desperately needed after the stunts he has pulled lately, so you had a long talk outside of Harry’s room when he found out you were here with him. He apologized for everything and promised to be better. You told him his words mean nothing, you need to see the change in his actions.

He has visited every day since then and you discussed the future as well. A future that will bring lots of change.

“You saved my life,” you quietly say, still kind of in shock about what happened.

“I would do it again,” he replies.

“You won’t be able to work again because of it,” you tell him. The bullet grazed his lung as well and the doctors said he might never be able to reach the same physical limits like before.

“It doesn’t matter,” he shakes his head. “I didn’t lose you and that’s what matters.”

His words sink in and you have to fight your tears again as you rest you lean closer, until your faces are just inches away.

“I don’t want to feel again the way I did when I thought you died. I don’t want to keep my distance, I… I love you and I want to be with you.”

Harry exhales heavily, his eyes fall closed and when they open again you get lost in them.

“I love you too. And I want to be with you too, always have.”

You let out a laugh that’s mixed with relief, happiness, pain and so much anticipation before you push closer and finally press your lips to his.

Years of built up tension and passion is set free as you kiss him and he returns it just as eagerly. It’s not at all how you imagined your first kiss, not with a cast on your arm or Harry lying in a hospital bed after being shot, but none of it matters in this moment, only him. There’s no more playing around, pushing each other away, this is end game and you both know it.

“So…” you mumble against his lips, “Will you move to a farm with me?”

“Moving? Aren’t we rushing a little ahead?” he chuckles, brushing some loose strands of hair out of your face before pecking your lips shortly.

“No. I don’t want to waste any more time. Let’s do what we always wanted to do.”

“What about your life? Your dad?”

“I already told him I’m stepping back from my first daughter duties. He is okay with it.”

“Really?”

“I mean, he doesn’t have much saying in what I do after almost getting me killed,” you joke, though you both know how serious the matter was.

“And you’re sure you want to move on… with me?”

You smile at him softly, it’s so typical he is questioning your decision even after everything that happened. He surely needs some time to adjust to this new version of you and him where there’s no wall between the two of you, just love.

Leaning down you kiss his lips softly.

“There’s no one else I would do it with, Harry.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles au #bodyguard!harry

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rzyraffek · 7 months

Note

This is my first time doing an ask, but I was wondering if I could request an ftm/ftnb reader x slasher fic (any character you think would fit/any character you want to add) where the reader has trouble breathing in the winter/cold and wearing their binder just makes it worse and their whole body is sore due to going up and down stairs so much so they can't keep up with the slashers longer strides and has to run after them.

Like, if the reader and the slashers were at the zoo or somewhere outside and the reader just started to take SUPER deep breaths just to be able to breathe normally or just to get air; especially after walking up or down stairs or hills.

And at one point the reader just gets tired of having to take so many deep breaths so they just go the the bathroom and take off their and layer two jackets over their shirt since they didn't bring an extra bra.

And like about 20 minutes later, reader STILL has to take super deep breaths just to actually breathe and having to run after the slashers just to be able to walk next to them; but with how sore reader is, they can't keep up with their partner and often has to take 3-minute breaks just to be able to catch their breath.

Remember binder users! You should wear them only up to 6hours daily! Dont ruin your ribcage!! I use to wear binder so yeah, I get it.

Anyways👹ofc i will write this!

So bacially, ftm s/o struggles with breathing due to binder and weather! You didn't specified which slashers so I will just go with flow on this one!

Slashers with s/o that struggles with breathing due to binder

Micheal Myers

Don't worry dude is used to noises of people choking to death lol

But fr dude gets a bit worried? He doesn't like how sometimes s/o has to take breaks just to breathe

If you guys are in rush and s/o has to take a break dude will just "hell nah fuck this" and pick s/o up

Micheal really doesn't care about gender or sex. Your a dude? 👍. There's no need to 'prove it' or look certain way for him to belive you

Brahms Heelshire

Dude fr will set a timer on his phone so s/o won't 'overdose' binder 😭

Erm honey you are starting to hyperventilate, its time for a break dont you think?

Brahms acually did his homework and read bunch of articles about binders and now he understands way more😊👍

Darling remember to exercise before and after you wear it so it less uncomfy

Finds s/o very cute and squishes them too hard sometimes

Billy Lenz

????

The fuck?Are you suffocating or something? *judges*

What feels worse? Wearing binder a bit too tight or billy sitting on your chest while your trying to sleep?

Bro doesn't understand what is "gender dysphoria" and tired to hide s/o binder once cuz he didnt trust it

Lucky for you Billy doesn't go outside, so you don't have to worry about him getting lost walking faster than you

What are pronouns?

Jason Voorhees

Oh Jason you big baby

Jason just feels bad, cuz he knows that s/o feels less cool without the binder but baby you cant breathe😭

Of course he will wait for s/o and he won't rush them at all!

Will try to convince s/o to not wear binder so often. Jason sees you as a perfect boufriend weather you wear it or no

Genuinely worried about s/o health

Asa Emory

Ah creature, why would you think that wearing binder for whole day was a good idea?

Dude is smart, he already knew what binders are!

He is aware that trans people often struggle with dysphoria and he can't just be like "dont wear a binder lol" so he tries to calming explain that nono honey you are a man even if you don't have a flat chest i love you

If he finds out that s/o whats a top surgery, Asa went "Alr bet" and then your bank account blew up

Funfact! If s/o was openly trans before they met Asa... dude was convinced that s/o just has severe asthma 😭 he was like ??? Uh do you have your inhalator with you?? Or like is it temporary???

👽guys I ate good chicken today. With sauce

Also im not sure if its good? I kinda forgot how to write entering stuff😭😰

#slasher x reader #slasher headcanons #billy lenz #billy lenz x reader #micheal myers #brahms heelsire #brahms x reader #micheal myers x reader #asa emory x reader #the collector x reader #billy lenz x male reader #micheal myers x you #micheal myers headcanons #jason vorhees headcanon #jason vorhees x reader #jason vorhees imagine #asa emory #brahms heelshire #brahms heelshire x reader

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cowgurrrl · 1 year

Text

Good Heart

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author’s note: something came over me and I wrote this in record time and I kinda love it (gif by @trashcora)

Summary: “I am sick of myself trying to give shape to all this sorrow, all this rage, all this loss— and failing.” - Carole Maso, The Art Lover aka Joel patches you up even though you’re trying to push him away [1.9k]

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, enemies with benefits, probably incorrect wound care, canonical type violence, arguing, language, yearning lol

You let out a trembling sigh as you rest against your locked bathroom door, pressing your hand into your side. You peel your jacket and shirt off and throw them somewhere on the floor. It's too hot, too close. The blood comes from right between your ribs, the long slice of skin stinging and pulsing with pain. Your side is slicked with blood, staining the edge of your bra, but you can't even think about trying to salvage it.

You push off from the sturdy door and scramble for the hydrogen peroxide that lives under the sink. Your hands shake, and tears slip from your eyes as you soak the nearest towel with the sour-smelling liquid, hissing when you press it to your side. Your hands grip the side of the counter hard, and you try to breathe through the pain. The floor sways under your feet, and your vision gets spotty for a moment. You frantically search for a solution, but you can't put anything together. Your hands are too unstable, and your head feels too heavy. The white towel quickly stains, and you curse as you press against your skin. A knock at the door makes you jump, but you don't move from your spot at the counter.

"What?" You call to the person at your door, wiping a trail of blood from your skin.

"Let me in," Joel demands, and you roll your eyes even though he can't see you. You can imagine him standing there, staring you down through the wood of the door.

"I'm fine. It's just a little blood."

"You got stabbed."

"I got grazed," you say. He tries to open the door, but the lock holds steady. "I'm fine, Joel. Just go. I'm sure you're anxious to get paid."

"You think I give a shit about the money right now?" He grumbles as he jiggles the door knob again. You don't move to open the door, pressing into your side a little harder like it will stop the bleeding. "Jesus Christ, you're so fuckin' stubborn."

"You're one to talk."

"You're gonna bleed out if you don't let me in," he says, and you take a deep breath as you weigh your options. "Just... please open the door." His voice softens, and you tip your head back to stare at the ceiling. How the fuck did we get here, you think. You glance down at the now pink towel and shake your head. You reach out and shakily disengage the lock, opening the door just enough for him to see your face.

"I'm trusting you. Please don't make me regret it." You beg as you open the door wider to allow him in. He glances at your blood-soaked shirt on the floor before grabbing the rag from your hands. He steps into the bathroom, and you return to white-knuckling the side of the counter.

"How much blood have you lost?"

"Not much," you lie. He says your name, and it sounds like a warning and a plea at the same time. It makes your head snap up to look at him and see the soft, concerned look in his eyes. You sigh and swallow thickly. "A lot."

He pours more hydrogen peroxide on the stained rag before pressing it to your side again without warning. You gasp and grab his bicep, digging your stained nails into the soft cotton of his shirt as the stinging returns. His strong hand adds perfect pressure to dull the throbbing as his fingers splay across your ribs. You want to move away from him and the sterile cloth, but his hold on you is firm enough to keep you steady and in place.

You wonder if this is his version of repentance for letting you catch a blade. He walked away from the group of raiders with nothing more than split knuckles while your blood soaked the soil. You wish you could read his mind as he swipes the towel over your skin with a stone-like expression. He says nothing as he applies pressure to your side with one hand and searches for the first aid kit under your sink with the other. He can probably feel your thrumming heart against the pads of his fingers.

"What's that from?" He asks, swiping a finger over a new scar above your right hip. It pulls your attention for just a moment as the first aid kit clatters onto the counter.

"Robert's guys tried to shake me down a few weeks ago. Stupid ass kid tried to use the world's dullest shiv."

"What? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because it wasn't your fight." You snap. Darkness crawls across his features but disappears before you can memorize it. He works at his jaw as he looks at you.

"Next time, you tell me."

"I'm a big girl. I can handle myself."

"Yeah? Is that why you got a scar for your troubles? From all your handlin' yourself?"

"Are you here to argue, or are you here to help? Because I can fucking stitch myself up if you’re just here to make a point." You ask, more than annoyed with him. He doesn't say anything, just scoffing at you as he puts together suturing supplies. He puts his hands on your hips and guides you to the edge of the bathroom counter before hauling you on top of it like it's nothing. It's infuriating how he manhandles you, but you're too tired and weak to keep fighting with him. He doesn't look at you as he washes his hands and crouches to be at eye level with the cut. You lean against the wall behind you and take a deep breath as he moves to start a stitch.

The rush of pain from the needle forces you to sharply inhale and grab at his shoulders, but he doesn't flinch. He just focuses on his work in silence. You don't let go of his shoulders. For some reason, they seem sturdier than the counter. And warmer. And nicer to hold on to. And he doesn't seem to mind. He sews you back together as if it were second nature. As if this is something he's done for you a million times, and he's fallen into a rhythm.

The heel of his palm rests under your sternum, barely pressing into the fleshy part of your stomach as he stitches. The firm yet gentle hands, careful touches, and rogue thoughts make your head swim. You stare down at him, glancing between his face and hands as he works. He's precise, soft, and determined. Your thoughts are interrupted when he pulls the thread taut, creating pressure in your side. You curse at the explosion of pain and grip his shoulder tighter, his muscles unflinching under your hands.

"Almost done," he says as your body shudders. You focus on him as he pulls the thread over and under and pulls one last time before he reaches for the scissors. He cuts the suture remnants in one movement and begins wrapping your side in a bandage. "Keep this clean and dry. If you have any problems, you tell me." You almost say that you don't need to report your every move to him, and he's not your boss, but you bite your tongue.

"Thank you." You say sincerely, and he looks at you from where he's still crouched. His eyes are big and sympathetic and an annoyingly beautiful shade of brown under the dingy lights of your bathroom. He doesn't say anything. He just nods before turning back to the roll of bandage.

Your hands don't leave his shoulders even when he tapes the white cotton off and stands over you. He's close enough for you to count the crow's feet at the corners of his eyes, the only indication that he used to smile. He exhales long through his nose as his fingers trace over the feeling of the new scar on your hip. Your chests are touching, and you can feel his breaths as they leave him. It feels like your skin is burning everywhere you're touching, but you don't care. Heat rises to your cheeks, and you forget the pulsing pain between your ribs as his nose bumps with yours. It feels like you're sharing breath at this point, and part of you wonders why he isn't kissing the pain away already.

"Which one of Robert's guys stabbed you?" His voice is deep and raspy as his lips ghost over yours. You swallow your anticipation down and search through the Joel-shaped fog filling your brain.

"Kid named Dean." You say, and he nods. His hands flex around your waist, and his jaw clenches. Finally, like a dam breaking, he crashes his lips into yours, and you let your body relax. He cups your face with both hands, moving you this way and that to kiss you deeper like he always does. With the way he's holding you, it wouldn't take much effort to snap your neck and kill you. You've seen him do it before, and yet, a part of you trusts him not to. The same part that trusted him to come at you with a needle and the same part that let him into your bed after years of arguing and unresolved feelings. Maybe that wall being knocked down ruins everything you've told yourself about not caring about anyone because death isn't picky about her victims. Maybe it ruins your working relationship, forever tainting any business you do together. Maybe it ruins everything you're supposed to be. Even if it does, God, you wish he would've ruined you sooner.

Your hands play with the hair at the nape of his neck and hold him close. He tastes like mint and sweat and everything you remember him to taste like. You sit up to chase his lips and work at the buttons of his flannel when pain erupts from your side again, making you hiss against him. It breaks you out of the moment, forcing memories of gentle hands and rough lips out of your mind, and reminds you of who you are outside of this room and each other.

"Joel," you mumble as you pull away. He nods and rests his forehead against yours.

"I know." He says. Neither of you has moved from the other despite stopping everything. His chest is still crushed against yours, smothering you with heat and weight, and your legs are on either side of his hips. You relish in his proximity for three more seconds before turning your head and taking a deep breath. He takes the cue and steps away, his eyes glued to the floor as you chew on your swollen bottom lip. You try to focus on steadying your crazed heartbeat instead of the hurt crawling up your throat, threatening to choke you.

"You should go." You whisper. He nods again, tracing your scar one more time before ducking his head to press a long, sweet kiss to the bandage-covered stitches. Then, as quickly as he showed up at your door, he was gone, and all you're left with is his smell and the buzz lingering on your lips. You're freezing without his body heat, and you feel pathetic as tears sting in your eyes. "Fuck."

🍓

Tag list: @evyiione @nyotamalfoy @abbyhaslongshorts

#the last of us x reader #the last of us #joel and ellie #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel tlou #joel miller the last of us #joel miller angst #joel miller x female reader #joel miller drabble #joel miller x f!reader #enemies to lovers #tlou fic #tlou angst

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freya-fallen · 2 months

Text

Little Dove 2/?

Check part 1 for story triggers, though none really apply here.

Part 3

You frown at the text. It’s from your bother’s number, but it’s clearly not him. You don’t know if you should respond or wait to talk to Keigo about it. But who knows when that will be.

>Where should I drop this phone off?

>Your the only contact outside the HPSC

>hello?

You didn’t realize that. Surely, Keigo had other people— sidekicks or… then again, he had multiple phones. He said it was easier that way; he could ignore calls from one phone, but keep the other on in case of emergencies.

You should probably respond, right?

>I asked you first

You scowl. This is getting you nowhere. There must be some question you can ask that this person will answer.

>I’m not with an agency. I’m more underground

Whoever this is must be a contact. Keigo does all kinds of work for the commission, to include intel gathering.

>You bird brain’s gf?

It’s such an automatic response that you type it out before you can help yourself.

>You gotta be a little sister then

“Shit.” No one outside the HPSC is supposed to know about you. You stare down at the screen in your hands, your heart pounding as your mind rushes to find an excuse.

>Don’t worry I won’t tell

>I understand completely

>I still gotta know where to drop off this phone tho

You’re not dumb enough to invite this stranger to your home, not that they’d get through the door without being vetted.

That begs the question of what you can do. You can meet them somewhere, maybe at a cafe or something, a public place. You roll your lip between your teeth as you consider. That might be the best option.

A minute passes. You approach the black car awaiting you outside the school and hesitate to open the door.

>sure

You release the breath you weren’t aware you were holding and open the door, climbing inside.

>you got it dove

“We need to make a stop before home,” you tell the driver. “It’s not too far, so I can probably walk from there.”

XYZ is a small cafe only three blocks from home. You’ve been allowed to walk there on your own a few times, usually on weekends where you decide you want a sweet pastry. The driver sets up and you pull outside the cafe only a few minutes later. Nervous hands waffle your phone as you find a seat and cross your legs under the table. You’ve never met another hero, let alone one who works with your brother. Something tells you itt’s a guy and you wonder what he’ll be like, if he’ll judge you for being a highschool girl, or for having such a weak quirk compared to your brother.

“You like coffee, little dove?” You didn’t even notice the person approach. His smoky voice makes you jump and you blink up at him with wide eyes.

He’s a little taller than Keigo, with black hair and the brightest blue eyes you’ve ever seen. They’re familiar, but strange above the black mask that covers the bottom of his face. Maybe if you could see his whole face you could put a name to him, but you’re lost at the moment.

“I’m not allowed to have coffee,” you admit awkwardly.

His eyes crinkle at the corners in a hint of a smile. “I won’t tell if you won’t. C’mon, it’s a caramel latte.” He sets the steaming cup in front of you and slips into the other seat at the tiny round table.

You can’t see all of his hands from beneath the cuff of his jacket, which is buttoned up all the way to tickle at the bottom of the mask. His fingers are long and pale. There are half-moon scars beneath his eyes, though the mask covers a bit of that, too. And his ears are similarly trextured and lined with silver piercings.

“Thank you.” You wrap your hands around the mug and bring the steaming cup to your lips. It’s sweet with just a hint of coffee bitterness beneath. You like it. It must show on your face, because the stranger chuckles.

He leans against one fist. “I don’t know what I expected, but not anyone as cute as you.”

One of your wings flutters at the compliment and your cheeks burn. You hope he didn’t notice, but something tells you he sees everything. “You have Kei— Hawks’ phone?”

He pulls out the red-cased cell and taps it gentle on the table. “I could just leave it as his agency or something, but when I saw your contact, I was intrigued. Seriously, why isn’t he sharing you with the world? He should be taking you to galas and shit.”

“He’s more concerned with my safety.” Your face is so hot you’re sure he can feel it from across the table. No one talks to you like this. At school, you’re so shy that no boy has ever confessed to you. The adults in your life are typically all business. Keigo calls you pretty and says you’re perfect, but he’s family.

He nods. “Your boyfriend probably shows you off though, right?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” You almost choke on the words. Keigo has told you it isn’t safe to date either, not until you’re a little older. Once you have your own place, it’ll be different.

“No way. A cutie like you? Have you ever been on a date?” You shake your head. “So you don’t have a boyfriend and Hawks never takes you out.” He sighs and his eyes bore into you as he seems to consider something. “How about I take you out some time?”

“What? You? Really?” You’re lost for words.

“Sure. Why not?”

You gape at him. “But you’re a hero. And I—I’m…”

One of his hands crosses the table to lay over yours. You’d expect it to be cold given how pale he is, but it’s warm, almost hot. “It’s not like I’m famous. Your brother and I mostly just pass intel.”

“I’m not really allowed…” You shrug. The weight of his hand is nice on yours and he gives it a little squeeze.

“So don’t tell. It’ll be our little secret, like the coffee.”

You smile brightly. “Okay.”

“I’ll text you, pretty bird. Enjoy your coffee.” He stands and you suddenly realize something.

“Wait! What’s your name?”

He glances back at you and says, “Call me Dabi.”

want to be added to the taglist? lemme know

#darkfic #yandere #mha #hawks #my hero academia #yandere dabi #dabi #dabi x reader #yandere hawks #hawks x reader #smut

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fridayyy-13th · 3 months

Note

💛 jmart? 👀

💛 reunion kiss / relief

coming right up!! it uh, got a bit long, i don't think nearly 900 words counts as a "snippet"...but i had a little idea and ran with it lol.

[ask game]

Martin woke up.

He was…not expecting to do that. Not when just moments ago the Panopticon had been crumbling around them, debris raining down as he’d clutched Jon’s dying body close, trying to shield him from further harm as he awaited his own end. “Somewhere else” had been Jon’s final, clumsy attempt at comfort, yeah; it hadn’t been anything serious. A nonsensical, end-of-the-rainbow wish in a universe that didn’t get those sorts of happy endings.

And yet.

He lay sprawled across the ground, now, in a place he did not know and did not care to understand. Jon was gone from his arms, and that was all that mattered.

The love of his life was dead by his hand. That mattered, too.

Maybe his body was nearby, so Martin would at least have something to bury.

Every part of his body protested as he rolled himself over, pushing up to hands and knees. There. Blurry through his fractured lenses, a Jon-shaped heap lay just a meter away.

No, wait. Not just lay. It—Jon’s body—Jon was shaking. Curled up in a fetal position, back to Martin, sobbing quietly.

Alive.

Crossing the distance between them, Martin hardly noticed the several dozen tapes scattered across the rough carpet, the would-be-familiar stacks full of unsorted files on either side. He was far too focused on the man before him.

“Jon,” he managed, afraid of what he would see if Jon turned to him. The knife, still buried to the hilt in his love’s chest? His face twisted in rage at the sight of the man who put it there? The final sliver of light fading from his eyes?

Jon froze. Martin heard his breath catch. He turned slowly, so slowly, like he was working through the same fears as Martin, until he faced him fully and their eyes met. His clothes were soaked with blood, but his eyes were bright and alert—wide as saucers in shock, before his expression crumpled once more. “Martin,” he sobbed, reaching for him.

Something in Martin’s own chest dislodged as he reached back, and soon they were both crying in earnest. He pulled Jon up to him, marveling at each shuddering breath, pushing aside the ragged tear in his shirt to inspect the bloody skin underneath.

A single, thin scar lay over Jon’s heart, looking as though he’d had it for years. Martin’s stomach churned—I did that. Oh God, I gave him that.

Jon’s hands cupped his jaw, tilting his head up and away from the mark. “Don’t,” he whispered, “I asked you to. ‘S okay.”

It’s not, Martin wanted to scream, I killed you. You should hate me. I want you to hate me. His throat was too choked to let the words out, though, and he instead sobbed harder. Damn you. I love you. Why did you go against the plan? Don’t ever do that again. Leave before I hurt you even more. Stay with me, please, please.

Jon, wonderful Jon, simply cried with him, a solid weight in his lap that gently thumbed away his tears until finally, they began to subside. His thoughts were still roiling through his chest, but—Jon was here. He was alive. The rest could all come later.

Jon tipped their foreheads together. Martin leaned into the touch with a sniff.

“I love you,” Jon croaked.

Martin let out one last sob, nodding fervently. Me too. I love you too.

Jon seemed to understand.

He still asked, before kissing him. A hesitant “May I?” that reminded Martin of their first days in the safehouse, of that same shy question before Jon kissed him for the first time.

“Please,” Martin said, and Jon’s dry, gentle lips met his own. He tasted of salt, ash, and blood, and all the things Martin was certain he’d never get again. Martin kissed back like Jon might shatter, gripping his jacket like he might disappear, and time slipped away as he embraced the man he thought he’d lost for good.

His world was nothing more than this kiss.

(Neither noticed the twin footfalls passing. An amicable conversation stuttered with a “Hold on, Martin, did you see—?" A sheaf of papers fluttering loose-leaf to the ground.)

Parting for need of air, Martin took in the gorgeous sight of Jon’s private little smile, like they’d just shared a secret, tempered though it was with the burden of how they’d hurt each other, of what they’d done.

Martin didn’t care about that right now. Now, he simply wound his arms around Jon’s shoulders and smiled in turn. “I love you, Jon,” he said softly.

Jon’s smile caught, and his expression shifted—Martin thought for a moment he’d said something wrong, but Jon simply turned his head, looking at something down the way. What had caught his eye, Martin wondered, turning as well to look at…oh.

Two figures stood at the end of the shelves, staring back at them in shock. One was a tall, bespectacled woman with curly hair tied back into a high bun.

The other, blushing a furious shade of red, was a three-years-younger copy of himself. Whatever papers he’d been holding in his slack hands now lay scattered across the floor.

Oh, Martin thought distantly, finally taking in his surroundings. I know where we are.

#also: holy shit y'all i wrote a tma fic not from jon's pov for once woahhh #ask game #beloved mutuals #magpie tag #friday's fics #the magnus archives #jonmartin #martin blackwood #jonathan sims

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misc-obeyme · 10 months

Note

hello !! may i ask lost with solomon 😔💍

Hi there, anon!

Okay, so it's fluffy Solomon hours on my blog again with this one. Just in case anyone wasn't already aware, I am in love with him. I always write him in the Nightbringer timeline, too. I think it's because there's more opportunity for fluff when MC lives with him lol.

Thanks for the request!

GN!MC x Solomon with prompt Lost

Warnings: none!

It was a cold day in the Devildom, the wind thrashing against the windows, the cloudy sky threatening rain. Solomon didn't want to go out in that weather, of course, but he really saw no way around it. He needed some potion ingredients and he really couldn't delay getting them.

Well, if he was going to go out, he had better dress warmly. He made sure to wear his trench coat, long and thick enough to help with the wind, as well as a thick pair of socks. He tucked some gloves in his pocket just in case, though he might not need them. Then he rummaged around the coat closet, looking for his scarf.

Solomon pushed aside various jackets and things, looking for the scarf that normally sat on the high shelf in the closet. It wasn't there. Had he lost it?

Solomon thought about it for a minute and found he couldn't even remember when he last wore it. You had complained about its hideous pattern, so he made sure not to wear it around you too much. But it still had to be in Cocytus Hall somewhere, right?

He sighed and cast a little tracer spell. If the scarf was in the house, he would be able to locate it this way.

The spell manifested for only a brief moment before dying out. It did not lead him anywhere, indicating that his scarf was not actually in the hall anywhere.

Well, he had tried. He wondered briefly if you had tossed it because you thought it was so ugly. The thought made him chuckle. Either that or it was lost for good. It didn't matter too much. He could always buy himself a new one. Perhaps he had better let you pick it out for him, just so he didn't have to worry about accidentally choosing a pattern you didn't like.

Solomon set out into the blustery weather, the wind pushing his silver hair all over the place. He managed to get everything he needed fairly quickly. Checking the time, he realized it was about when you normally started home for Cocytus Hall. He decided to surprise you by waiting for you outside the House of Lamentation.

Solomon watched as you waved goodbye to the demon brothers on your way out the door. You pulled your own jacket closer to yourself in the chill, the wind clearly making it slightly difficult for you to walk.

As you got closer to where he stood, you saw him and smiled. Solomon smiled back, but then he noticed something. A hint of color around your neck… was that…?

"What are you doing out here?" you asked him.

He focused his gaze back on your eyes. "I happened to be out already and I thought I'd stop by to pick you up."

You shivered a little. "You came out in this weather? It's going to rain soon, I think."

Solomon cocked his head, his smile becoming teasing as he looked at you. "Is that why you stole my horrible scarf? I was looking everywhere for it."

Solomon was rewarded by the blush that rushed to your cheeks. Your fingers brushed the fabric of the scarf that was tied around your neck and tucked into your jacket. "I couldn't find mine," you said, frowning.

Solomon chuckled. "And here I thought maybe you finally threw it away when I wasn't looking. How did you describe it again? Ghastly?"

You folded your arms. "I stand by it. This thing is truly offensive. But it was the only option."

Solomon couldn't resist tugging it out of your jacket, revealing the bright clashing colors of it, a sort of argyle combined with paisley that he had to admit was rather unsightly. He used it to pull you closer to him. "It's all right, MC. You're welcome to use my scarf any time, though I think I'll do a better job of keeping you warm myself."

Solomon laughed gently as the expression on your face revealed just how silly you thought this line was. You laughed, too, and let him pull you into his arms. "You're welcome to try, magic man."

Solomon couldn't keep the grin off his face and both of you laughed into the kiss you shared before starting off toward home.

the original prompt list

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me fluff #obey me fanfiction #obey me fanfic #obey me solomon #obey me solomon x reader #obey me solomon x mc #solomon x reader #solomon x mc #anon request #misc writes

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chaseadrian · 2 years

Text

vandalism in the closet

Rushing off to Atlantic City to elope with Eddie might be a stupid idea, it might be the best idea you've ever had. But if there's one thing you do know, it's that rockstars know how to trash hotel rooms.

pairing: eddie munson x f!reader tags: 18+ ONLY, explicit, established relationship, elopement, dom!eddie, also soft!eddie, fluff, post-canon, like circa 1989 or something word count: 4k+ a/n: if you listen to She Rides by Danzig right as you start reading, by the time Eddie starts singing lyrics the song should also be around the same lyrics. fun thing i noticed lol but uhh yeah this one is minimally edited so feedback and comments are appreciated as always. likes are great, reblogs are better.

When you and Eddie came up with the idea in the middle of the night, you thought you’d change your minds somewhere along the way.

Hopped up on the adrenaline of his cock buried inside you, his hair dripping sweat onto your shoulders, you thought the cold swipe of a wet washcloth on your stomach would change things.

You thought when your heart rate slowed you’d change your answer, he’d tell you nevermind, you’d both just give up the idea.

When he slipped one of his rings on your finger—the corroded steel band and webbed howlite crystal just a tad too big for your ring finger—you still didn’t think it was real.

When you hopped in the van, when you loaded up with snacks at the corner store, every pit stop and refuel, every passing state line—commemorated with grainy photos from your polaroid.

Every memory you’d made in the eleven hours it took to get to Atlantic City, none of it felt real.

Sure, you could’ve gone down to the courthouse, could’ve celebrated at the Hawkins motel, but Eddie wouldn’t stand for it.

“Only the best of the worst for my girl,” He’d said with a wink, with your hand pressed against his lips.

And though the Elvis impersonator was booked, Cher ended up being a better stand in. Good enough for you. Good enough for two idiots who found themselves wearing makeshift rings and rushing off to the nearest high rise hotel.

You were against the wall before the door closed, Eddie’s mouth on your neck, towering over you, his hand on the wall above your head.

“Why don’t you go get all pretty on the bed for me?” His voice had you shuddering, and you pulled him in by the back of the neck for a filthy kiss. Your tongue pushed into his mouth, the slick of his lips sliding against yours, a faint growl sitting in his throat.

You ducked under his arm, and his hand caught you with a firm smack on the ass before you rushed over to the bed, slipping out of the flowing white dress you’d pulled from the back of your closet and thrown on.

Shucking off his jacket, he followed you into the suite, diverting to turn on the radio. He turned the dial, finding Danzig somewhere between poppy Madonna and the immortal Sinatra. Cranking the volume up as loud as it would go, he pointed at you and mouthed the lyrics, shaking his head as he stepped towards you.

You leaned back on your elbows, melting into the mattress as his figure covered you. The giddiness in your chest had you laughing, but as he whispered the lyrics, one of his large, calloused hands dragging down your body, you choked on your laughter.

She slides, Down inside your skin

Falling to his knees on the carpet, he put a hand on either thigh, spreading you slowly, letting his head fall back, shaking his hair with the words.

In time, She will make you scream

He buried his head between your legs, sucking a wet patch into your underwear, hands on the insides of your thighs stretching you open as wide as you could stretch. Wider, still.

You lost all sense in that moment, before his tongue had even touched your cunt, before he’d snapped your underwear away from you with his teeth, sticking them in his back pocket before diving back into your folds. The music was deafening, thrumming in your chest, making you ache for him.

Without asking, you knotted your fingers in his hair, pushing him deeper against you, burying his face between your legs.

Eddie was too amped up to care, the coarse black denim of his jeans straining his hard cock. He brought a hand down to his bulge, groaning into your pussy as he palmed himself, as he unzipped, tugging on his cock until he was starting to lose focus on making you scream.

Letting go of his cock, he resituated his hand on your body, sliding over your bare tits, his thumb smoothing over the hard nipple, squeezing nail marks into your skin.

His tongue swiped up your slit, flat against the wall of nerves, head tilting left and right, coating your cunt with his slick spit.

You slammed your head back into the bed, over and over as his tongue worked your clit, fuckfuckfuckfuck and please, fuck right there, pleasepleaseplease and all manner of noises almost completely silenced by the thrashing music from the radio.

Eddie could hear you, though, could feel your voice from your chest, from the way your tits bounced with each jerk of your body, each spasm of nerves, from your head smashing into the mattress, desperate for release. Hot air hit your cunt as Eddie laughed, his lips pressing into your inner thighs, licking away the beads of sweat, skin flushed from the way his hair smothered your skin.

You combed your fingers through his hair, waiting for his tongue to come back, waiting for his face in your pussy, waiting for the release you thought you were promised. You whined and lifted your head up, watching as he stared at you from beneath furrowed brows, tongue skating up your abdomen, between your tits.

Whining again, your hands sliding over your thighs, just grazing the slick skin of your cunt before Eddie shook his head at you, and you snapped them back, curling them up between your bodies.

He brought his lips close to your ear, almost a whisper with the music blaring, and you felt the tip of his cock prod at your hole.

“What’re you whining for, huh?” He teased his tongue on the outer cup of your ear, “You don’t think I’d take care of my wife.”

Not stated with fondness, but with possession, he slammed his dick into you, and you inhaled a sharp gasp of air.

“Cause that’s what you are now, isn’t that right?” Fucking his cock into you, he slid a hand behind your head, nails against your scalp, tearing at your hair, tugging until it hurt.

“You gonna be my good little housewife? Let me fuck you against the stove? Suck me off when I come home from work?” He threw his head back and cackled, closing his eyes and ramming into you harsher and faster until you were losing your breath.

The rough hilt of his pelvis against your clit, the bursting pressure of his cock in your cunt, he had already worked you enough with his mouth and before you could stop it you were spasming and crying, clawing at the comforter on the bed, framing your bodies with the plush linen.

Eddie came not long after, hot bursts of cum seeping from the seams of your cunt, his cock pumping the orgasm out from your body, belt buckle clinking with every thrust. He kept fucking you without letting you cool down, but you were high on the night, high on Eddie, and the blunt you’d smoked on the way to the hotel room helped too.

Tugging his shirt off, he ducked back down to your mouth, squeezing your jaw with his hand and sticking his tongue between your lips.

“If you think I’m gonna give you a break, you’re dead fucking wrong.”

Except, he eventually did.

You both thanked the universe for all-night room service, a white rolling cart of fries and crab and whatever your blissed out minds could think of was there twenty minutes from the moment Eddie put the phone down.

White robes adorning your slicked up bodies, you sat on the floor of the suite’s living space, shoveling food into your mouths.

He threw a fry at you, and you caught it between your teeth, beaming at the applause he gave you.

You took a swig of the champagne he’d ordered, cringing at the taste. Eddie smiled, exhaling a laugh from his nostrils.

“Hey you uh,” He started, reaching over to play with the cuff of your robe, “You think we made the right decision?”

Shrugging, you brought his hand to your lips, kissing the knuckles, “I dunno, but like, do we ever know?”

He looked down and nodded, swallowing hard, shaking himself out of his worry, “Guess not.”

You squeezed his hand, interlacing your fingers and swinging them in an arc, back and forth in the air, staring at the ring on your hand, the rings on his. The way they slid together, scratched up over years of use.

You sang the words, plucky and brief, “I. just. know. I. love. you!” Bouncing your hands in the air with each word, you smiled at him and cocked your head, “Eddie, I drove eleven hours in the car with you and we didn’t like, die or kill each other. You ask me, we’re battle tested, baby.”

There was a moment of pause when he looked at you, the amused smile on his lips teetering between keeping the moment sweet and turning you into a slobbering mess again. The way you rested his hand on your thigh with a gentle pat, the way you went back to the pile of fries, a sip of champagne, a grimace. You did a double-take when you realized his eyes hadn’t left you once, those cavernous brown eyes that wrapped you in warmth, brought you home.

“What?” You asked, physically unable to wipe the smile from your lips.

He propped his elbow up on the table, sitting his cheek in his palm, “You’re gorgeous, you know that?”

You leaned over and pressed a kiss to his nose, “No, you.”

He shook his head with a laugh, “Babydoll, how are you still this blitzed?”

Shrugging again, you teetered over to his lips, and he slid his hands into your hair, his palms pressed against your cheek.

“You know how much I love you?” He asked, gaze flicking between your eyes and your lips, the tips of your noses brushing against each other with every deep inhale he took.

“Nope.” You grinned, letting your head fall into your shoulders, staring up at him.

He kissed you, a deep, smothering kiss that lit up your brain, had you melting against him. The kind of kiss that forces your eyes shut, forces the world away until it’s just the blackness behind your eyes and his lips on yours. Not rough, nor desperate, just full. Like every step you took was made with this kiss in mind, getting you to this moment, something of a crux, a certainty, an answer to all the times you’d looked up at the sky and asked why?

Eddie pulled back from the kiss, eyes wide as though he’d just had the same revelation as you, “Me neither.”

Then there was that tongue in cheek smile you knew, the one that saved him from the kind of vulnerability you both shied away from when you could help it.

With your heart bursting in your chest, you could no longer help it.

“Eddie.”

He pressed his forehead to yours, “Yeah, doll?”

You wrapped your fingers around his wrists, holding his grip on you.

“If someone told me that, y’know, waiting, at the end of—of all the bullshit and—and bad things and whatever, I went through,” You looked down for a moment, blinking fast and shaking the thoughts away, “If they said I had to go through it to get to you…there’s no doubt in my mind that I—I would.” You loosened your grip on his wrist, running your thumbs in a pattern over and over the same spot of his skin.

“Ohh, baby.” His voice was soft as he pulled you into his lap, hands wrapping around your shoulders, rubbing your back.

“No more bad things,” He said, holding you as close as he could, “Not long as I have anything to say about it.”

You breathed against the soft fluff of the robe, allowing the silence between you to settle, the faintest hum of the radio over in the bedroom carrying the moment, the comforting thrum of an electric guitar.

Neither of you wanted to break the comfort you’d fallen into, Eddie’s hand petting the back of your head, your fingers sliding underneath the lapel of his robe, grazing the tattoo on his pec. There was no doubt in your mind you’d made the right decision today. In five years, ten, twenty, maybe that would change.

But right now?

Right now, nothing felt better than his ring on your finger.

You pulled your head away from his chest, looking up at him, into those brown eyes. Always sparkling, always home, and they fluttered closed as you leaned up to kiss his cheek, spattering pecks down to his jaw, covering his face until he was smiling and you could press your lips to his dimples, too.

He shook his head at you, combing a hand through your hair, stilling when you finally made it to his lips.

Eddie melted easily when you were sweet to him, cheeks flushing pink, posture sinking into a bashful curve that was entirely incompatible with the daunting tower of his frame when you weren’t being so sweet.

He pushed against your kiss, guiding you down to the floor, keeping rhythm with his lips as he balanced himself over you.

You linked your hands behind his neck, your ankles around the backs of his knees, bringing his body in, his weight firm and comforting on top of you, but he pulled back.

“Can’t believe you’re all mine.” He flicked a few strands of hair out of your face, smoothing a thumb over one of your eyebrows.

You wiggled your left hand in front of his face, “Believe it, babes, I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

He licked the back of your hand, and you jerked it away with a hey! and a laugh, Eddie ducking into your neck to press kisses that tickled you more than anything else, and you kept giggling until he pulled away.

“Hey, excuse me, I’m trynna kiss my wife here.”

You feigned surprise with a gasp, “You’re married?”

Eddie cocked his head back, “Well, ‘married’ is kind of a loose term.” He rolled his eyes as he talked, that shiteating smirk on his face, “Don’t you have a hubby waiting at home for you? I thought we were both stepping out here!”

Sitting up on your elbows, you forced Eddie to back away from you, hovering in wait, “Ugh, I do.” You scoffed, shaking your head, “He’s a total burnout, though, and he’s got a tiiiiiny—”

He covered your mouth with his hand, laughing, “Don’t you dare.”

You licked the palm of his hand, but he just stared at you, lips stretched into a smile, tilting his head in amusement. You squinted your eyes at him, waiting patiently until he slid his hand away.

“Tiny dick.” You sputtered out, tucking your lips into your mouth, trying to hold back a smile.

“Oh how dare you!” He laughed, ducking into your neck, tickling you again, his hands unfastening the tie on the robe so he could get at your hips, fingers coasting across the skin until you were slapping him on the shoulder, pushing on his chest, trying to get him away.

Eddie held strong on top of you though, kept you there until he’d decided to bring his lips to yours, laughing as you tried to regain your breath, efforts ruined by your own laughter.

The kisses deepened as the laughter died off, Eddie moaning into your mouth, reaching between you two to tug free the rope of his own robe, bare bodies squishing together. His cock hardened against you as you made out, but he made no move to fuck you yet, both of you content with his skin on yours, lips gliding together.

There was no telling how long you stayed like that. With the city lights outside, the night was livelier than the day and the only sign of passing time was the change in tempo from the live music down the street.

When the hard thrashing turned to soft rock, when your lips were swollen and red, bodies slick with sweat, Eddie started shifting down. He dragged his mouth down the column of your throat, over your tits, tongue swirling over each nipple, sucking until you were nice and firm. Slower down your stomach, his fingers finding their way to yours, grounding you in the moment, keeping you from getting overwhelmed with the excitement of what comes next.

Lips on your pelvis, your thighs. He paused to look up at you, and you brushed his hair out of his face, grazing his cheek, thumb at the corner of his open mouth. A warm wash of exhilaration lit up your skin when he tilted his head, tongue sliding under your thumb, lips closing over the dewy skin.

Eddie swirled his tongue around, eyes burning into yours, before he pulled back and closed in between your legs, that first graze forcing your head back into the ground. You squeezed his hand, languishing in his slow laps of his tongue, just nicking the nerves of your clit.

He moaned into your pussy as he sped up, never hitting the speed he’d hit earlier, just driving you deeper and deeper into the feeling of his mouth. You kept yourself disciplined, quieting your moans, holding your body down best you could. It wasn’t that kind of moment, but you knew he’d be proud anyway.

And proud he was. Spurred by the restraint, he worked harder to break you, sliding two fingers into your pussy, curving them against your walls, coupling the pressure in your cunt with the sharp pleasure from your clit. He never turned rough, only sped up as your breathing did, hand still tightly laced with yours, slowing down every time it seemed you might break.

You relished the hot moisture of his mouth, stirred with giddiness every time he pulled you back from the edge.

“Oh,” You breathed, mind fuzzing with television static, his tongue making you dizzy, “Eddie, I love you. I love you so much.”

You combed a hand through your hair, and he lifted his head, pressing a kiss to your thigh, “I love you too, doll.” And ducked right back in, driving you closer this time.

It seemed you had cracked the code, because Eddie didn’t slow down this time. He took you to the edge and over it, squeezing your hand and encouraging you with soft hums. The wet laps of his tongue faster and faster until you were paralyzed on the floor with bliss, a velvety pink warmth spilling from your legs, coating your body in pillowy elation.

Eddie wiped his mouth as he made his way back to your lips, kissing you with the same sweetness as earlier, slow and quieting. He whispered between you, “You wanna ride me, babydoll?”

You leaned up to kiss him again, nodding against his lips, and he slid a hand around your back, guiding you as he flipped onto his back. You threw a leg over his lap, straddling him, still slick pussy enveloping him between your folds.

He breathed a sigh of relief, smushing his bangs up off his forehead with his hand, exasperated and wanting.

“God, I fucking love you.” He exhaled, his fingertips running down your torso, “You’re so hot.”

“Mmm,” You smiled, sliding forward, lining his cock with your entrance, “Speak for yourself.”

He slid into you with impossible ease, breath leaving his lungs, eyes screwing shut, “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

Grinding against him, you smiled, “Wonder why that is?”

“Shh, don’t tease,” He groaned, setting his hands on your hips, guiding you back and forth over his dick, his hips bucking up, locking your hips together.

You leaned down to kiss him, “Sorry, babes.”

Eddie pawed at you until you leaned down to him, burying your head into his neck, kissing harsh marks into the skin. He slid his hands down your back, lifting his hips, “Make me cum and all will be forgiven.”

You rolled your hips against him, leaning back up, hands on his shoulders, “Deal.”

You found yourself struggling to maintain rhythm, already drained from the torture of his tongue on you, the delayed gratification of your orgasm wearing you out now as you tried to maintain your composure.

Eddie slid his knees up, sensing your fatigue, fucking into you, taking control as he was wont to do. His hands held you down, fingers sliding up your back to bring you down to his lips, letting you rest in his neck, overwhelmed and panting against his skin.

It didn’t take long before Eddie himself was speeding up, fucking you faster, harder, but with the same delicacy, the same flattery, I love you’s and fuck, you feel so good and the prettiest moans you’d ever heard.

You pulled away from his neck to see his face as he came, features painted with agony, eyebrows knit together, crinkles under his eyelids, pink lips open and gasping, the shudder of his pelvis with every moment of undoing. It was a beautiful fucking sight, and you pushed your lips hard against his, grinding against him, heightening the orgasm. You loved him like this, loved the way he could lose himself under you, when he couldn’t help but surrender to you.

With a few last thrusts, Eddie came down from his peak, wrapping you in his arms, his cock still buried inside you, cum seeping onto his thighs. Your breathing synced over the minutes that passed, hands in each other’s hair, stroking through the knots.

“I love you,” Eddie sighed.

You lifted your head up, resting your chin on his chest, letting out a pleased hum, “I love you too.”

He tilted his head up, straining to kiss the top of your head, and fell back against the carpet.

The two of you stayed there until you were sure it would hurt to stand up, your legs still straddling him, just listening to the muffled music from outside, the faint radio in the bedroom.

“How cold you think those fries are?” He asked, and you painstakingly rolled off of him, groaning from the dull pain in your legs, the effort it took to unstick them from their splayed position.

“Ow, fuck,” You whispered, reaching over to grab a fry and pop it into your mouth, stretching each leg out at a time as you munched on several more fries, “Not so cold that I wouldn’t eat the rest of them.”

Eddie shot up, wiping away the cum on his legs with the bottom of his robe and bringing his hand down onto the fries like a claw, taking a chunk of them off the plate to shove in his mouth.

You smacked him on the arm, “Hey, manners, buddy.”

He spoke with his mouth full, reaching over to take a swig of your champagne,

“Manners? Never heard of ‘em.”

And that was how the weekend continued. Holed up in the hotel room, throwing away money on expensive room service, hands on each other’s bodies, lips covering every inch they could reach, sweat and champagne and blankets on the floor.

The room was trashed by Monday morning, bathroom towels flung about, picture frames crooked on the walls, a side table turned over. It wasn’t irreversible damage, but it was incriminating enough that you spent a few minutes fixing what you could to save face with housekeeping.

With your duffle bag in hand, you waited by the door for Eddie to join you.

“Hurry it up, babes, we got a long drive ahead of us.”

“Yeah yeah yeah I’m comin’!” He yelled from the bedroom, and you dropped the bag to go see what was keeping him.

He had his back to you as he leaned into the closet, scrawling something on the underside of the shelf.

“There.” He stood back and gestured toward it, “Check it out.”

Scrawled in fading Sharpie were your initials and the date.

You laughed and grabbed his hand, “Real juvenile of you, Eddie.”

He winked and dragged you back to the door, reaching down to grab your bag, “Like I said,” He kissed you, smiling against your lips, “Only the best of the worst for my girl, and I’m the best.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #my writing #mine #i dont looooove the writing on this one but i like it #its fine #but like. red light at the bowling alley fucking sends #so comparatively ofc im not gonna be screaming about this one lmfaoo

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dilf-whore · 2 years

Note

Hi!!

Can I please request a fic of Eddie x Female reader where she’s pretty flirtatious but he never took it seriously because he thought she act like this around her friends too, until someone else from the hellfire club wants to ask her out and he realized that they probably both have a crush on each other

Thank you so much🥺

stupid hottie

pairing: eddie munson x f!reader

genre: friends to lovers!, jealous!eddie, fluff

summary: guess jealousy’s the answer for you and eddie’s situation

A/N: sorry it took me so long to post this and if it’s short😭 i hope you like it though. let me know what you think! and i hope it’s alright if i made a minor change to it. alsooo send in your requests or some messages lol i’d love to make new friends or have some short convos with you guys. ❤️

requested: yes

requests are OPEN

masterlist

𖤐

You dust off Eddie’s jacket and fix his hair, “Sweetie, be careful next time don’t want to damage that handsome face of yours” you smile.

Eddie just slipped over god knows what as he made his way towards the table to start his campaign. You rush towards him and help him up. After muttering a small ‘thank you’ to you, you give him a wink and grab his arm and go to your seats. The long-haired metalhead was once again, feeling butterflies in his stomach.

Eddie hated how flirty you were, how you call him cute nicknames, how you always leave him with a tint of red on his cheeks, and how much you make his heart flutter. He liked you since day one, when he saw you walking through the hallways like a lost puppy; oh how much he got nervous when you approached him to ask where Math class was. And from there, you both became friends and he introduced you to Hellfire Club.

Dustin was the first one to notice Eddie’s crush on you, the way he looks at you and how he unconsciously smile when you talk. He always bug him and urge him to ask you out, saying how you obviously feel the same but to no avail, Eddie always tell him that you don’t and that you act the same to everyone.

Eddie feels a light tap on his shoulder, he takes a look at the fingers on his shoulder and immediately recognized who’s delicate hand it was. He moves his head and lean towards you “Uhm Eddie, I’m gonna go to the toilet real quick”. He nods his head in response and moves his chair away to give you some space to stand up.

The rest of them watches you as you make your way out to the bathroom, as soon as you were out of their sight, Gareth speaks up, “I’m gonna ask her out”. Eddie immediately shots his head up and stare at Gareth, his jaw suddenly tightens - a weird tense and raging feeling goes through his body. Dustin looks at his friend in front of him, giving him a small kick under the table. Eddie turns his attention to the boy and Dustin mouths “You better do something, asap”.

Eddie looks down, his mind going feral, his thoughts running everywhere, he clenches his fist and lets out an annoyed sigh.

Not long after, you go back to the room and Eddie’s body relaxes - but his mind’s still a total mess.

𖤐

The campaign finishes and everyone left the room, leaving you, Eddie, and Dustin behind with the cleaning. Dustin suddenly grabs his bag and rushes to the door, “I’m so sorry guys, I-I remember my mom asked me to do something, uhm y-yeah” he waves you both goodbye. You wave back and continue cleaning, Eddie glares at Dustin, “now’s your chance” the boy whisper-shouts.

You notice Eddie staring at the door, not moving an inch, “Baby can you -”

“Don’t go out with Gareth” he cuts you off.

You put down the small box of figures on the table beside you, “what?”

“That loser was planning to ask you out, so, say no”

You smirk at his statement, crossing your arms, “and why should I say no?

“I mean if you want to then go, not like I care” his eyes wandering somewhere else.

“Okay, then I will. He is cute” you tease.

He looks back at you surprised, “for real?”

You smile at his reaction. You wrap you arms around his waist and pull him closer to you, “seems like someone is jealous” you say as you tilt your head.

“M-me? fuck no, why would I?” he stutters, shaking his head aggressively.

“I don’t know” you shrug playfully.

Already impatient, you pull him closer and lightly smack his forehead, “god you’re so fucking stupid”

“Of course, I won’t go with Gareth. I want to go out with you” you confess. “Don’t you see? I always flirt with you and practically give my whole attention to you, and I can’t believe you still didn't take the hint” you add, a slight hint of frustration in your voice.

You move you hands up to his collar and pull him into a kiss. You couldn't take it any longer, you knew he felt the same, you just waited for him to make the first move but he’s just so oblivious to do so. Eddie melts into the kiss and cups your face with both hands, you pull away first - leaving him wanting for more.

“Now, aren’t you gonna tell me something?” you smile.

“Y/N, will you be my gorgeous girlfriend?” he asks, looking into your eyes with admiration and happiness.

“I will be honored to be this stupid hottie’s girlfriend” you reply.

“Now come on, give your jealous boyfriend another kiss to make him feel better” he pouts.

You laugh and give in, you press your lips against his - this time more delicate and less rushed.

𖤐

#stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things oneshot #stranger things scenarios #stranger things headcannons #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson scenarios #eddie munson headcannons #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader

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itzsana-kiddingmenow · 5 months

Note

I know resquests are closed, but you said some time ago that you were looking for suggestions. I have only one but I think you will like it:

- So imagine that skz or some members of skz are gping to the cinema, and they wanna sneak in snacks. One of the mebers shoves a packet of snacks into their coat and just walks into the movie unnoticed. Then, some other member is hungry and asks for the snack that is hidden in the coat of the member. He zips down the coat and like slightly opens up the side that the snack is on and as the other member tries to grab a handful of the food, he like touches or accidentally squeezes his side (because the packet is laying somewhere there). The ler notices how that tickled the lee and decides to take advantage of that, sneaking their arm to “grab the snack” as an exuse to tickle the member. This continues on the whooole movie lol.

This actually happened to me😭 Except the tickling part. I just had to hide popcorn in my coat lol

I saw that you’ve been doing not so well in life, and I just wanted to send lots of love and tell you that there are plenty of people in this community who are willing to listen to you and try to make you feel better in any way, incluiding me. Just don’t give up, keep on pushing and you’ll get there❤️❤️

Theater Shenanigans:

words: 1k a/n: my formatting's having some issues :ccc [also this request is so minmin coded istg] lee: hyunjin ler: minho and seungmin taglist: @someone-who-loves-kpop-saranghae @jeonginsdiary @leeknowstan33 @v--143 @wereallgonnadieonedaybutnottoday @inkytornpagess @lajanaa @a-wild-seungberry this fic is about tickling, if it's not your cup of tea pls scroll!~

“Hi! 8 tickets for the Baby Shark Movie, please!” Chan grinned at the cashier, who stared back with a puzzled expression.

“But…that movie is for little kids…?” The poor guy sweatdropped, watching the 8 pairs of eyeballs bore at him.

“It’s…Baby Shark. And Enhypen’s in it. What more reason do we need?” Felix asked innocently, pushing the cash towards the man in the uniform.

“But-”

“8 TICKETS! WOOHOOO!” Jisung yelled in the background, having had way too much sugar before arriving at the theater.

The cashier sighed before taking the cash, handing Chan the tickets and the spare change.

“YAYYY!” Hannie cheered, jumping around before getting pulled down with a hand on his waist by a very amused Minho.

Changbin sneezed loudly, sniffling and wrapping his jacket tightly around his body. He had caught a cold, resulting in constant sneezing and coughing.

He whimpered as his throat stung, and his jacket did nothing to shield his vulnerable body from the cold.

Felix and Chan cooed and wrapped their jackets around the sick rapper, handing him a warm water bottle to sip.

Minho walked nonchalantly, ignoring the stares he received as he held a squirming Jisung bridal-style in his arms.

Clearly, Hannie had been attracting stares and this was the only way to stop him from running around.

Hyunjin dodged Seungmin’s sneaky fingers coming towards his pockets again.

“Yah! Seungmin these are for the movie! Don’t eat the snacks before the movie even starts!” Hyunjin scolded, closing the pockets with the zipper.

Jeongin walked beside Chan, Felix, and Changbin, yawning and wincing slightly as his lip ring shifted slightly.

“Ah! Here it is!” Chan found the movie venue, opening the door and ushering all the members inside.

“Okay everyone! Here’s the order, from left to right!” Minho announced.

“Okay, so at the end, Chan…Felix…Changbin…Jeongin…Hannie…Me…Hyunjin…and Seungmin!” Lino read out, taking his seat and watching everybody assemble in their arranged places.

He had made sure that Changbin and Jeongin were in the center, considering Changbin was sick and Jeongin and Felix had a tendency to get lost somehow.

He had also made sure that Jisung was seated next to him, so that the younger wouldn’t throw a fit and he could keep an eye on him. ‘I really shouldn’t have let him eat a whole cheesecake…’

Hannie, meanwhile, has finally calmed down, sitting quietly and waiting for the movie to start.

Hyunjin smiled fondly at the boy. ‘Ahhh, I can’t believe he’s an introvert. He acts like a little kid sometimes. It’s cute, though.’

Seungmin was bouncing in the seat, clearly eager for the movie to start so that he could eat snacks.

He had been craving for them all day, and finally, he could enjoy them…if Hyunjin didn’t eat them first, of course.

The movie started, thankfully, and everyone was giggling throughout the first bit, even Changbin, whose throat would probably kill him later.

Seungmin quietly stuck his hand into Hyune’s pocket, grabbing a snack before attempting to pull his arm out.

He struggled for a second before pressing into the older’s body and pulling his hand out.

Surprised, Hyunjin let out a small squeal of laughter, twisting and glaring at Seungmin.

“Yikes, sorry hyung. Didn’t mean for it to tickle.”

“That tickled?!” Minho whispered incredulously, poking the taller boy’s side again.

Hyune let out a similar squeal, slapping at the older’s hand and blushing a deep red.

Seungmin grinned evilly at him, Minho copying the same expression on his other side.

Hyunjin watched in horror as the two stuck their hands into his pockets, grabbing a snack each, but not retracting their hands until they had each squeezed his sides at least twice.

“Guhuhuys!” Hyunjin giggled quietly, slumping in his seat to try and escape the hands.

“What?” Seungmin asked innocently, peeling open his snack.

Minho grabbed Hyunjin by the waist and sat him down on his lap, allowing Seungmin to scoot one seat over.

“H-Hey, what are you doing?” Hyunjin asked, watching Seungmin reach for his pocket again, and Lino was holding his arms to his sides.

“Getting a snack.” The vocalist deadpanned, sneaking his hands into the open pocket and instead pressing and wiggling into the older’s skin through the thin fabric.

Hyunjin bit his lip to contain his loud squawks of laughter before twisting crazily in Minho’s hold.

Minnie’s fingers finally left his pocket, and Hyunjin breathed a sigh of relief.

Maybe they would finally leave him alone.

However, this torture continued for another half and hour of the movie, but Hyunjin didn’t really hate it.

At the last scene of the movie, Hyunjin was intently watching the screen, focused and not paying attention to the dancer behind him, who had been keeping his hands to himself for quite a while.

When a singular finger wormed into his pocket and tickled at the sensitive skin there, Hyunjin almost screamed in surprise again.

Knowing he wouldn’t be able to hold his giggles again, he turned and buried his head into Minho’s chest, the older nonchalantly continuing the tickle the boy to pieces fondly.

“hyuhuhung! p-people wihill hehear meheh!” Hyunjin giggled out desperately, trying to pull the older’s hands out of his pockets.

“Awe, Hyunnie! Scared, huh? Scared that people will know how sensitive you are?~” Min teased, only tickling harder and smiling as Hyunjin squealed into the fabric of the older’s jacket, too sensitive to hold his laughter again.

The ending credits to the movie rolled, and Hyunjin panted, wiping the residual tears off of his face as Minho finally quit, picking the younger dancer up and gathering all of their things.

“I think we need to go again later.” Jisung referred to the movie.

“Why?” Chan asked, curious. Usually Jisung hated rewatching movies and preferred to watch new stuff.

“I was distracted because Hyunjin kept laughing.”

Hyunjin yelled flusteredly, slapping Hannie across the shoulder and covering his bright red face with his other hand.

Then Jeongin noticed something. “Oooh Hyunjin hyung has snacks!”

#kpop tickle #midzywannabeitzy #stray kids #skz tickle #skz #lee hyunjin #ler minho #ler seungmin #tickle #tickle fic #tickle content #kpop tickle content

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