#(and is not above almost murdering his boss over it)

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

Me: He's a silly little koala. Friend: You are aware that your koala is a little shit. Me: Me: You're unaware of the famous temperament of koalas, I see.

#random #yes this is about the rarepair #I'm holding up my favorite guy like look at him! look at hiiiiiiiiim!!! #I'm being absolutely insufferable #(for those of you who don't know: koalas are notorious assholes) #(the reason the conversation took place is the koala takes his cricket very seriously) #(and is not above almost murdering his boss over it)

[nataliasquote]

Midas Touch | n romanoff

Summary: no amount of money will ever save a broken marriage or a broken woman. But maybe the right person can turn everything she touches into gold and this time won’t be cursed to break everything she cares about.

Warnings: affair, cheating wife, forbidden love, small mention of physical abuse (a slap)

Pairings: maid!Natasha x wife!reader

wc: 7.1k 😬

Note: another AU? Why are we even surprised. But this idea fully goes to @katyaromanoffpetrova who does just fuel my need to write every AU possible. If you thought cowgirl Nat was hot… oh just you wait. Also the end got angsty, but you should learn to expect that with me now..

-⧗-

Being up before the sun wasn’t anything Natasha wasn’t used to. Even before she got this job, mornings were her favourite. The way the world looked when it was kissed by the watery sun that rose above the rooftops hours before anyone was awake to see it was one of life’s hidden gems.

And one of the many perks of being a live-in maid to one of the richest men in the America was the views from every window in the staggering mansion. The west side of the house overlooked the bustling city below, which was beautiful at night. But Natasha’s favourite was the east wing that revealed rolling countryside and the perfect place to watch the sunrise over the distant hills.

Her maid duties never started this early, but she didn’t mind being awake. It gave her a sense of peace before the mania of the day began. She wasn’t the only maid in the Barnes residence, but her task was slightly different than everyone else’s. She was Y/n Barnes’ maid and that in itself came with a whole host of other challenges.

Seven am was when her ‘day’ started, for the lady of the house was not an early riser. She usually wouldn’t be seen out of bed until at least nine, but on the days James left for work early, she would always see him off from the front door. And wherever Y/n was, Natasha was never far behind, lurking in the background with her hands clasped in front.

Y/n’s laugh was the first thing Natasha heard of her boss, before she was even seen. Her voice oozed wealth and that laugh practically dripped honey and diamonds as it echoed through the high ceilings of the stairwell. With her arm draped over her husband’s bicep, Y/n lingered on the last step, teasingly trying to tower over James’ muscular frame as he shrugged his suit jacket on.

He muttered something in her ear and Natasha watched as Y/n’s neutral expression suddenly switched to a cunning smile and her fingers fumbled with the small tie holding her feathered robe closed. The front fell open, revealing her nightwear beneath it and it was not hard to see the way James’ eyes fell to his wife’s cleavage for a couple of seconds.

These small moments cemented why they were the nation’s favourite couple, and also why Vogue was so insistent on featuring them on the cover. They were still so lovesick yet utterly perfect in a way that didn’t happen by chance. This level of perfection was almost nauseating.

Y/n stepped down off the bottom stair and looked up at James through her lashes, playing the innocent game despite being anything but.

“Goodbye, my love. Try not to murder anyone today,” she husked in her husband’s ear, draping her arms around his neck with a lazy smile. James’ hand fell to the small of her back and he pulled her into him, kissing her lips hastily.

“No promises. Be good.” Y/n was on her tip toes but hardly felt the coolness of the stone floor on her bare feet. She leaned her face into Bucky’s palm that had risen up to cup her cheek. Soft fingers straightened out the lapels of his pristine suit jacket almost habitually.

“No promises,” she mimicked with a smirk, her eyes sparkling playful up at her husband who was transfixed by her sultry gaze. She was truly a siren, luring him in with a simple glance and a smile. Her power didn’t come from her social status; it came from her. The kind that couldn’t be earned or bought, no matter how much money you had.

With another lingering kiss, James pulled away and reached for the drawer of car keys and selected from the collection of sports cars most could only fantasise about. His dark grey McLaren Senna was today’s pick and he tossed the key in his palm like it wasn’t part of a car costing close to a million dollars. His wealth really was astonishing.

Y/n watched him disappear out of the heavy iron front doors and pulled her robe tighter around her body, concealing the simple navy blue silk slip dress that hung delicately from her shoulders. Her robe matched in colour, of course, and the feathers adorning the trim and cuffs swayed as she wandered into the vast kitchen.

She was the typical rich housewife, but it didn’t look tacky on her. She suited this life. Her wrists, neck and fingers might as well have been crafted to be decked out in priceless jewels, her body to wear only the finest garments. Even just the way she moved oozed grace and elegance subconsciously. A sight for sore eyes.

“Natasha,” she called, knowing the redhead was only a few steps behind her. “I’d like my breakfast on the balcony today please.”

“Yes ma’am,” Natasha replied with a small nod of her head.

“Oh, and don’t bother bringing any of that apricot jam you brought yesterday. I only want strawberry, darling. Only strawberry.” She swept back out of the room in a flash of blue and Natasha scurried down to the kitchen to inform the chef.

Now, if it was anyone else, that pet name probably would have sent them reeling. But Y/n was extremely fond of using those names, so it was basically second nature to Natasha.

The breakfast tray was laden with food and beverages as Natasha brought it out onto the balcony. Y/n was relaxing in a chair, still in her nightwear and robe as she scowled over the newspaper in her hand.

“You know, I do find these world affairs awfully boring.” Y/n didn’t bother looking up from her newspaper as Natasha appeared with the tray. She frowned at the column she was reading before folding it away on the table. “I don’t suppose you read that kind of thing anyway.”

Natasha carefully set the coffee pot down on the table. “I try to keep up with what’s going on in the world. But not as often as I’d like.”

“Do you read the paper?”

“No, Ma’am.”

Y/n hummed. “You can have this one if you want. I don’t care for it and James only complains about the headlines. You’d make much better use of it, honey.”

“Thank you, Ma’am. I really appreciate it.”

“Natasha stop,” Y/n held her hand up, making Natasha freeze mid pour. “I’ve told you to call me Y/n. All this ‘ma’am is making me feel old!” Y/n sighed dramatically, pushing her sunglasses up into her hair. “I’m not even thirty yet, don’t make me age faster.”

“I’m sorry, Ma-,” she faltered but caught herself quickly, “Y/n, it’s a force of habit.” It wasn’t so much of a habit than it just felt weird to say. This first name basis insinuated they were friends, not two people on drastically different pay grades.

“Well, luckily for you, habits were made to be broken.” There was a heavy intonation in her words, laced with hidden meaning but Natasha just busied herself with setting up the breakfast platter. Various fruits and pastries were laid out, despite Y/n always just picking at a few berries and a croissant. Natasha hung back near the french doors, admiring the scenery so she didn’t watch her boss as she ate.

Y/n slid her sunglasses back onto her nose and stood up to lean over the balcony, the gentle breeze blowing her open robe softly. “Did that package arrive yet? The one from the lingerie company?”

“Yes, it’s in your dressing room.”

“Perfect,” Y/n hummed, her eyes sparkling behind tinted lenses. “I’m going to go try it all on, I think. When you’ve taken the tray, join me, will you?”

Natasha faltered, trying not to look at the outline of her boss’s figure through the thin material of her robe. But with the sun shining through it, it was proving difficult to keep her eyes off the curve of her hips.

“Me?”

“Yes you, Natasha,” Y/n confirmed, smiling to herself. “Who else would I be talking to?”

“My apologises ma’am, I’ll take this right away.”

Y/n didn’t bother correcting Natasha that time, too busy gazing at the rolling landscape beneath her. She found comfort in nature, the way the breeze brushed over her skin and the sun kissed her cheeks making her melt slightly. It differed vastly from the heavy touch of James’ hands, ones she played through a heavy facade to enjoy.

Y/n’s dressing room was that of dreams, just like the rest of her house. But she barely noticed it anymore. Her gaze settled on a white box on the central dresser, smiling to herself. She enjoyed the luxuries of life, and that included lingerie too. She told everyone it was for James, but really it was for her.

She just wanted to feel good for herself.

But those damn feathered sleeves kept getting in the way, so she shrugged her robe off and let it pool on the floor around her feet. She barely noticed the cooler air on her exposed limbs, too busy pulling off the lid and moving the tissue paper aside to reveal the soft coloured lace and mesh, all pastel colours for spring.

Natasha rushed back upstairs as gracefully as she could, passing through the master bedroom to the dressing room at the end. The door was ajar so she knocked three times, as usual, before pushing it open. Her breathing faltered involuntarily.

Was it normal to have that kind of reaction after seeing her boss in nothing but a mini slip dress? There was so much skin and Natasha took a second to gather her thoughts before she announced her presence, keeping her eyes firmly away from the woman in front of her.

“Natasha I want your opinions on these, come here.” The redhead obeyed and joined her side, eyes widening at the items before her. “What do you think?”

This kind of underwear was probably worth Natasha’s entire salary and she was apprehensive to touch it. Her hands stayed by her sides but she tried look objectively, even if she could barely tell the difference between the sets.

“I like that one the best,” she murmured, pointing slightly to a soft pastel blue set. Y/n smiled and plucked it from the box, holding it in front of her.

“Me too, you’ve got good taste.” Y/n slipped one strap of her nightdress from her shoulder and Natasha immediately turned around, almost squeaking at the lack of warning. “You didn’t have to do that, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

Except it was. Because this wasn’t just any woman’s body, it was her mistress’s and there was no way she would ever be able to erase the images burned in her mind.

“I’ll just,” she started, trying to fill the silence by picking up the discarded robe and hanging it on a hook to her right. She caught Y/n fiddling with the bra clasp on her back, the hooks not quite fitting together.

“I hate new clasps,” Y/n exclaimed through gritted teeth, the hooks slipping once again. “Natasha, would you-?”

‘Don’t look don’t look don’t look’ was all that ran through Natasha’s mind as she carefully fastened the bra. She ignored the way her fingertips brushed Y/n’s skin, this wasn’t the first time. She was her maid, for gods sake. But Y/n was usually adamant that she could get dressed by herself, so Natasha rarely found herself around her mistress in just her underwear.

With a muttered thank you, Y/n wandered over to the mirror, adjusting the way her boobs sat in the cups before admiring the set. It was perfect for spring, the baby blue mesh and complimenting white and yellow flowers sitting flush against her tanned skin. The way the material hugged her body rivalled that of a custom made piece and Y/n hummed, content with what she saw in the mirror.

“It looks- beautiful,” Natasha faltered, keeping her composure as best she could. “James will love it.”

Y/n chuckled in the mirror, her hair shaking across her back as she laughed. “You really believe I care what he thinks?”

Natasha’s brows creased. Was that not why Y/n had those underwear sets in the first place? The redhead was empathetic but she didn’t have a significant other, there was no time for that. So her judgement was skewed, and it showed.

“I thought-“

“That’s cute.”

Natasha stuttered. “I’m sorry?”

“You,” Y/n locked eyes with her in the mirror. “You’re cute. James doesn’t care about this kind of stuff, it’s all for me, darling.” She adjusted the strap of her bra and didn’t miss the way Natasha’s eyes followed her fingers. “And now you, I suppose?”

“No, I wasn’t-“

Y/n swivelled round, hands on her hips. “I’m teasing you, darling, don’t worry that pretty little head of yours. Frown lines don’t look good on you.” She reached up and softly brushed her thumb between Natasha’s eyebrows, smoothing out the creases that had formed there. The redhead visibly freezed under her touch, the feeling lingering long after her fingers were removed.

“You’re a beautiful girl, Natasha. Who’s the lucky man in your life? Or lady?” Y/n’s eyes shifted, forgetting that she was still in her lingerie set. Natasha breathed out a laugh and darted her gaze to the floor, offering Y/n her robe again.

“I don’t have anyone,” she admitted, missing the look that crossed Y/n’s face. “I spend all my time here, I don’t need anyone.”

“Then I’m honoured to be the lucky lady. And lucky I am.” There was something so alluring about Natasha that Y/n had been hooked on since she laid eyes on her new maid a few months ago. Reserved at first, Natasha was exactly what Y/n needed after years of overbearing and intrusive maids. Natasha was a similar age and felt more like a friend than a maid.

With a confident air about her, Y/n tried on the rest of the lingerie, placing the ones she disliked back in the box with a sigh. Sticking with the blue theme, she slipped on a blue and white sundress, clasped a tennis bracelet around her wrist, slotted her sunglasses into her freshly combed hair and waltzed back onto the balcony. Natasha stayed behind, fumbling with the ribbon around the box before she handed it to the doorman who would organise the return.

The days when James was at work were usually slow and Natasha had some time for herself for a couple of hours whilst Y/n was occupied. Natasha took herself into the city in the late afternoon and ended up in the one store she had never set foot in before.

The lingerie store.

It was a privately owned boutique, of course it was, this neighbourhood didn’t do chain branches, and she quickly walked past the more provocative sets towards the tables at the back. A friendly store worker greeted her but Natasha just kept her head down, politely shaking it when asked if she wanted help.

She was out of her comfort zone, and painfully so, picking up a risky looking set before setting it down a little too quickly. A simple red lace bra caught her eye and she picked it up, only to glance at the price tag and lay it down gently. How could something like that cost so much? Natasha had seen heavier price tags than that of course, she spent her days around Y/n Barnes for god’s sake. But when shopping for herself, everything just seemed too expensive and far too lavish for a plain girl like her.

Natasha was anything but plain, yet she would never see it.

As she looked around the rest of the shop, her mind kept falling back to the red set. It was burned into her mind no matter how many other pieces she saw, and somehow Natasha found herself back at that table again, fingers fumbling over the delicate lace design.

She picked it up, a soft blushing rising to her cheeks at the thought of wearing something so… out there. But the phone in her pocket buzzed and she quickly grabbed it.

Mrs Barnes:

James has set up a date night. I need your help please :)

The red lace set was long forgotten, her mind shifting into work mode in an instant.

Just leaving now. I’ll be there.

When she returned, Natasha headed straight upstairs to find Y/n just leaving the bathroom. Her hair was still dripping and her skin damp, shining in the warm light of her dressing room.

Natasha got to work, drying and styling her hair almost on instinct, having done it so many times. Y/n thoroughly relaxed, adoring the way Natasha felt as she worked through her hair. She softly tugged her roots, but not enough to hurt. Just so it felt like a massage and her eyelids threatened to get heavy.

Date night outfits ranged from lavish to simple, and tonight was a simple night. A little black dress with a deceitful price tag was selected from the closet, a fan favourite of Y/n. She wriggled into the tight material, loving the way it hugged every part of her body as she pulled it up over her chest and slipped the thin straps over her shoulders.

“Where did you go today?” Y/n asked as Natasha zipped up the back of her dress, holding the fabric tight.

“Mostly just window shopping.”

At the mention of shopping, Y/n’s ears pricked up. She wasn’t just making conversation- she was invested. “Did you get anything nice?”

“Not really. Saw a couple of things but-“

“You know you can always take my card if you see something you like,” Y/n insisted, smoothing her hands down the front of her dress to straighten it out. “What store did you visit?”

“It wasn’t anything special.” Y/n shot her an unimpressed look over her shoulder. “I went to the lingerie boutique-“

“No you did not,” Y/n exclaimed, her jaw dropping in excitement as she turned around, clothes long forgotten. “And you didn’t get anything? Oh darling no, we are taking you back there tomorrow and getting you sorted out.”

Natasha moved over to the heels cupboard and selected a classic pair of black patent stilettos. She placed them in front of Y/n for her to slide her feet into, holding onto her hand for support.

“You’ve got that photoshoot tomorrow, so no, we won’t have time.”

Y/n paused, her dangling earring paused in mid air. “And you think they won’t reschedule if I ask them to?” Her brow raised in a ‘try me’ fashion.

“Y/n,” Natasha began to protest. “You don’t need to do that. It’s not like I need anything fancy like you anyway, it’s useless…” she trailed off, a pang in her chest triggering a wave of doubt to shudder down her body. “Vanity Faire won’t be too impressed if you cancel on them again.”

“If they want me, they’re going to have to work around it,” Y/n countered, silencing Natasha as she stalked over, slightly taller than the redhead thanks to her heels. “You are beautiful and you deserve to treat yourself like that. Everyone does, even James and he’s an asshole sometimes. So take this,” she reached into her bra and pulled out her black card, smirking at how Natasha’s brows shot up. “Take this and spoil yourself. I mean it, okay?”

“Thank you ma’am, I’m-“ Y/n almost plucked the card back out of her hand. “Y/n, thank you. You’re too kind to me.”

“Oh stop it, my ego is big enough already.”

The dressing room door flew open to reveal James, narrowed eyes as he stared at the proximity between the two women. Natasha took a couple of steps back but Y/n stayed put, clasping a bracelet around her wrist nonchalantly.

“Y/n, get out here,” he demanded, never one to speak any clearer than he had to. His wife rolled her eyes at Natasha but obeyed, sending her one final look over her shoulder before the door swung shut.

Now they were alone, James grabbed her wrist and shoved her against the wall, towering over her in the only way he knew how to display his power. The power he held over his wife, power that meant he could crush with a single fist if he wanted to.

“James,” Y/n grunted, wincing as his fingers dug into the tender flesh around her wrist. “What is wrong with you?”

“Flirting with the maids now, huh?” He growled, thick brows casting a shadow across his eyes menacingly. “I fire one, you move onto the next, is that how it is?”

“And what if I was?” Y/n baited, not flinching as his body trapped her between the wall and his torso. “Are you threatened? By that cute little thing in there?” She nodded her head in the direction of the dressing room where Natasha was before James gripped her jaw and pulled her face back to his.

“Don’t you dare.” But she did dare. She wasn’t sadistic, but the smile that curled the edge of her lips was downright crazy. But she knew how James was; they fought fire with fire, too stubborn to ever back down.

“Careful, James. Marks, remember?” His grip softened lightly. “Wouldn’t want the paps to spin a story now, would we?”

She saw how he wanted to retaliate, but also knew that she was right. He leaned closer before pulling away, huffing through his nose. “You’re so fucking lucky I love you,” he hissed before he let go of her jaw and allowed her to walk away. His job didn’t help his violent side but James had vowed since day one that he would never harm his wife. Y/n knew it too, and she pushed him to the very edge. Just daring him to.

“Weird way of showing it, but ok,” Y/n mumbled under her breath as she pushed the door closed and took a breath. Natasha averted her eyes, suddenly so busy with a hanger that had been placed backwards. Did she put it there on purpose? That’s not for anyone to know.

She’d seen the strained moments between the husband and wife but often kept her head down, not wanting to fall under James’ wrath. If she was invisible, it was better, but that was easier said than done with Natasha.

Y/n finished clasping her last few pieces of jewellery before accepting her fur shroud from Natasha. The redhead didn’t let on that she had heard every word said next door, but Y/n knew by the way she avoided eye contact that she had.

“You can have the night to yourself, darling,” Y/n winked, checking over her outfit in the mirror beside Natasha. “And you better buy yourself that set.” She gestured to the card in her maid’s pocket, insisting she used it. “I want proof that you did.”

“Thank you, really.”

Y/n blew an air kiss and disappeared to meet James, leaving Natasha once again alone. She felt the weight of the card in her pocket, seeming to grow heavier the more she thought about it. Y/n meant well, but could she really buy something like that with her mistress’ money?

Whilst Natasha debated with herself, Y/n had put on her ‘public’ face. The one that showed she was so madly in love with her husband, clinging onto his bicep as they moved from the car to the restaurant lobby. Paparazzi followed their every move, of course, and James’ bodyguard ushered the couple into the building as fast as he could.

Most celebrities hated the paps with a passion, but James loved them. He loved how much he manipulated them, and they snapped up pictures of the married couple like there was a drought. There was no doubt those pictures would be spattered across gossip sites by tomorrow morning, but that was only more free publicity for him. James Barnes never lost.

However, despite the perfect image they had carefully constructed, more often than not, date nights with James ended alone. He would excuse himself for a phone call just as the food arrived and Y/n could always see him in a private area of the balcony, phone pressed to his ear whilst his other hand pinched the bridge of his nose. Y/n picked at her food in silence, washing every mouthful down with a sip of wine. She ignored the stares and whispers and just played her role to perfection, often sending worried glances out to James.

Tonight she had struck up a harmless conversation with one of the waiters, a young man with a far too eager smile. But she tolerated him for company, politely laughing as he tried to crack an admittedly horrible joke. He was surprisingly good company for the thirty minutes her husband had disappeared for. Although it didn’t help with how sad her situation looked. Y/n was nothing if not flirty, it was in her nature. The way she crossed her legs and looked up through her lashes with a sultry stare had every man, and woman, hooked.

Her siren tendencies didn’t end with her husband, and the waiter hovering by her table was drinking up the attention. It was a big deal for him, one of the hottest women giving up her time to talk to him. He was far too young for her, but Y/n humoured his attempts at flirting, twisting her shoulders so he had a good view from where he was standing. There was a fine line between hot and just plain sleazy, but Y/n would never cross it. She was too good at toying with people.

After a while, James came storming back in, his eyes darkening not only from the outcome of his phone call but also after seeing his wife laughing over another man. His judgement was clouded by anger and he grabbed his jacket, not even bothering to take a bite of his now-cold food. Y/n jumped at his sudden movements but smiled sweetly, thanking the waiter who had stiffened.

“Let’s go,” James growled, throwing down a wad of cash as a tip before storming towards the elevator. Y/n took a moment to gather her things before scurrying after him, her red bottomed shoes clicking loudly against the pristine floor.

“Is everything ok?” She dared to ask once the doors had closed. James looked up briefly, eyed the security camera and clenched his jaw, the muscles in his neck shifting too.

“I work with imbeciles,” he grunted, his hand undoing the top button of his shirt in one fluid motion. “How was the food?”

“It was good,” Y/n stated, slightly wishing she could have finished her glass of wine.

“Good? I pay all this money and that’s the best you can do?” Bad phone calls always sent him into this mood, but Y/n had been with him long enough to know how to tame the tiger.

She stepped in front of him and ran her hands up the front of his sculpted chest, brushing over the muscle and up towards his shoulders. “It would have been better if you were there,” she spoke lowly, her hand sliding up to brush the stubble on his jaw.

James slid his hands around her waist possessively, pulling her flush against him. Anyone could walk in, the elevator wasn’t private, but they wouldn’t dare say anything to James Barnes. No one who confronted him ever walked away unharmed.

“Yeah? Even though you had your new little boy toy?” Oh he was jealous and Y/n had to tense every muscle in her body so she didn’t laugh. “I saw you.”

“You really think he had anything on you?” She asked sweetly, playing him just the way she knew. “I was just bored, baby, I missed you.”

“Damn right. I hope that fuckboy knows you’re mine, and mine only.”

“I’m yours, James, I’m yours.”

She was James’, so why did her mind drift to Natasha for a fleeting moment as she said it?

~~~

Y/n had dismissed Natasha for the night earlier than normal, letting her have the evening to herself before they went out. And she praised herself now, knowing James’ rage was just bottled up and sooner or later it would come out. She didn’t want her meek little redhead to have to see that.

And she was right. Whatever James had been feeling, he held it in until they were both nearly ready for bed. Y/n slid her rings off and placed them in the dish on her nightstand, each one clinking against the porcelain as she dropped it.

“What did you talk to him about?”

Y/n paused her movements for a second. “You’re still going on about that? I told you, it was just harmless conversation.”

“It didn’t look harmless, the way you were looking at him.”

Y/n was quite literally at the end of her tether with his accusations. “And how was that? How did I look at him?”

James rounded the bed, the single chain resting on his bare chest catching in the lamplight. “Like a slut.” His eye twitched, a sign he was pissed. “How do you think that looks for me? I step away for two seconds and my wife is whoring herself out to anyone she can find.”

“I find it laughable that you think you were away for two seconds,” she countered, stepping to the side to free herself from where he’d boxed her in. “May I remind you that I had finished my meal long before you even stepped foot back inside. He just came to talk to me and I engaged with the conversation, is that so bad?”

“Don’t use that tone with me,” James spat, his eyes following her figure as she paced around the room. “You shouldn’t-“

“Shouldn’t what? Shouldn’t talk? That’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it? A quiet little wife who only speaks when she’s spoken to and follows you around like a lost puppy.” James set his jaw, hands clenching by his sides. But Y/n carried on, spurred on by his accusations. “Well that’s not me James, and you know that!”

She paused and ran her fingers through her hair, exasperated. “How do you think it looks on you? You bring your wife out on a date but then can’t switch off from work for two minutes to actually enjoy your time with her! I’m saving your ass here, so be fucking grateful!”

That last sentence pushed him over the edge and James stormed over to her like a bull, backing her into a corner. “Grateful? Why should I be grateful? You’re a slut and-“

“Then treat me better and maybe I wouldn’t have to stray so far!”

James’ hand had connected with her cheek faster than either of them had time to process, his rings cutting into her skin painfully. They both froze. Y/n’s breath caught in her throat, the sting of the slap blooming across her cheekbone. James was breathing hard, his hand still raised from the recoil.

An apology would come… wouldn’t it? It had to, he didn’t mean that. Y/n couldn’t move, it was like the air had been sucked out of the room. Her stomach lurched, just urging James to say something. Anything.

A whole host of scenarios of how the next few moments might play out raced through Y/n’s mind, but she didn’t foresee her husband walking out without a word, a button up shirt in his hand.

She watched the door click shut before she sank to the floor, legs buckling beneath her. She didn’t want to cry, he wasn’t worth that, yet the tears still fell, dripping down into the carpet that pressed into her knees. It wasn’t from the pain, but from how stupid she felt.

Why was she still pretending? She played off everything he said to her, claiming it didn’t hurt when in reality it cut deep like a knife. Beneath her defences, she just wanted someone to care and not just because she was pretty. She wanted the slow mornings, the affection that wasn’t just for show. The ‘hey how was your day’ that wasn’t just one sided. But Y/n had sacrificed all of that the day she married James, naive enough to think he’d warm up over time.

The house felt eerily quiet and the blanket of night settled across every room. Ignoring how the clock chimed two, Y/n hauled herself up off the floor and trudged down to the kitchen, barely noticing the icy floor on her bare feet.

The freezer must hold ice packs or something similar, anything to stop bruising and swelling that always leads to questions. Y/n didn’t even bother to check if anyone was around before she pulled the door open and rummaged around, falling upon a bag of frozen peas. Not ideal, but it would do.

Except for the hum of appliances, the kitchen was silent and shadows appeared as the dim fridge light cast a small pool around her. No one was here at this hour, so Y/n dropped her guard and slumped her shoulders, leaning against the side of the fridge with exhaustion.

But she wasn’t alone.

A certain redhead had frozen in place, her spoonful of ice cream hovering somewhere between the pint and her mouth. Natasha was a midnight snacker and her feasts were usually undisturbed, but the sound of footsteps had her retreating into a corner.

It was only when she saw that familiar curtain of hair did she emerge, slowly, as if approaching a small animal, to not scare her off.

“Y/n?” Natasha emerged from the shadows, spoon still in her hand. Y/n did a double take but kept her face turned away, forcing her guard up in a split second.

But it was too slow for Natasha. She saw the vulnerability

“What are you doing down here?”

“I came to get a snack,” she replied with as much conviction as a toddler. Green eyes fell to the bag of peas… interesting snack choice.

“Why didn’t you call for me? I would have come myself.”

“It’s the middle of the night, Natasha.”

“Which is exactly my point, why aren’t you asleep-“

Y/n suddenly emerged from the corner and allowed the fridge light to hit her cheek. Natasha recoiled with a gasp, blinking quickly to wake her brain up. Was she hallucinating or was that what she thought it was? Y/n’s eyes were heavy and looked at the floor, too ashamed to watch Natasha’s reaction

“Did he…?”

The lack of response that followed was louder than a thousand words and Natasha felt her blood boil. She would happily be put away for battery if it meant she could get her hands on James, but she had more pressing matters to attend to.

Abandoning her spoon on the metal table with a clatter, Natasha hurried over and prised the bag of vegetables from Y/n’s hand. She wrapped them in a towel and gently pressed them to her cheek, muttering an apology as her mistress winced.

“What happened?”

Y/n chewed her lip, still avoiding eye contact. “Nothing. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Natasha nodded. “Ok,” she replied, respecting her wishes. You couldn’t push with Y/n, she had to come to you. “Here, sit up on there.” She helped Y/n hop onto the counter and her body instantly relaxed.

A comfortable silence fell between them both, somehow not affected by Y/n’s reluctance to talk. They never needed words, that’s what Y/n liked about Natasha so much. She was a comforting presence, and Y/n felt so at home around her.

With their faces so close, Y/n felt her chest warming at things she’d never noticed before. There were flecks of brown in Natasha’s clear green eyes, almost mirroring the freckles that danced faintly across her nose. The frown lines she had wiped away earlier were back and Y/n fought the urge to brush them away again.

After ten minutes, Natasha set the ice pack down on the side and helped Y/n down, the stone now digging into her butt uncomfortably. “Just let it rest for a bit before you ice it again. You don’t want to damage the skin.”

Y/n nodded, her face already numb. Their proximity was close but neither made an attempt to move. Natasha couldn’t keep her eyes off how red her cheek looked and Y/n desperately needed something to shut up the voices in her head.

Her eyes dropped down to Natasha’s lips, wanting to cry with how soft they looked. How gentle they’d feel on her skin, a stark contrast to the rough lips she was used to feeling dragging across her collarbones and neck. Natasha was soft and Y/n felt herself craving it.

“No, Y/n no.” Lost in her head, she’d failed to notice Natasha catching on, almost reading her mind. And as much as the redhead would love to reciprocate, it was inappropriate and not just because of her job.

Y/n leaned forwards, eyes glossy. “Please, Natasha-“

“You’re hurting, I won’t-“ Natasha shook her head, taking Y/n’s trembling hand in her own. She could make a pretty educated guess as to what had happened and did not want to be a part of Y/n’s inevitable. She pushed her own feelings down, stuffing them in a box and cramming the lid on tight.

But Y/n never made her life easy. She gripped Natasha’s hand, pulling it into her. “Please?”

“No, we can’t, you know that. And you’re my boss, Y/n-“

“Nat, I- I want you. I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

The redhead faltered, watching the way her mistress’s chest heaved. Her head screamed at her to stop; it was so wrong. She couldn’t avoid the way her cheek burned red in the dim light, a stark contrast to the rest of her pale face. Never had she seen this much vulnerability in the woman who was full of wit and confidence.

The strength she was so used to seeing had completely disappeared and Y/n peered at her with tears on her waterline, her facade crumbling away with every second that ticked by.

Those seconds felt like an eternity before Natasha slowly reached her hand up.

But it was too soon.

Y/n flinched away, a tear escaping as she let out a whimper. Natasha quickly retreated her hand and let the woman before her turn back, not wanting to push her in any way.

“You’re safe,” Natasha whispered. Y/n’s eyes searched hers, trying to find any sign of a lie. But she came up empty. With a trembling hand, she reached for Natasha’s palm and allowed it to cup her other cheek. The touch was soft, warm, and everything she wasn’t used to. Even on instinct, Y/n couldn’t help but lean into it, eyelids fluttering closed for a split second before she forced them open.

“I’ve got you.”

Y/n glanced at Natasha’s lips and back up to her eyes. She needed to feel that warmth, she needed to kiss lips that didn’t curse her all day long.

“Natasha…”

The redhead couldn’t stop herself anymore and let Y/n lean forwards, connecting their lips in the most gentle kiss. Y/n tasted the sweet dessert on her lips as they moved against each other slowly, the hand on her cheek moving around to the back of her neck to hold her in place.

“Did you have ice cream?” Y/n mumbled against her lips, goosebumps lighting up her skin at Natasha’s touch.

“Maybe.”

The kiss wasn’t anything frantic or passionate, it couldn’t be. It was so featherlight that their lips barely touched, but the way Natasha’s blood felt like it was on fire was enough to convince her that they did touch. She let Y/n lead, moving their lips in tandem and fiddling with the baby hairs at the nape of her neck.

Y/n pulled away, a soft smile on her slightly swollen lips setting Natasha’s heart a flutter. The ache in her cheek was hardly noticeable in that moment; she was too fixated on the redhead in front of her.

She leaned in again, chasing that high she wasn’t ready to come down from yet. But Natasha gently pushed her back, shaking her head softly.

“Y/n, we can’t. We shouldn’t be doing this, you know that.” Y/n’s coping mechanisms were unhealthy to say the least, and as much as it pained her, Natasha couldn’t support that. Clarity had hit her like a ton of bricks and guilt settled in the bottom of her stomach, leaving a nasty taste in her mouth.

What were they doing?

Natasha’s heart shattered as she watched Y/n retreat into herself, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth slightly. Her eyes were glossy but the tears refused to spill over. Every muscle in her body was rigid, almost as if she was scared that if she moved, the dam would break and everything would come flooding out. Y/n may be good at a lot of things, but emotional confrontation was not one of those things.

“I know, I’m sorry.” She lingered for a moment, just willing Natasha to speak, to take back her words. Maybe if she closed her eyes, those lips would be on hers again. Their Midas touch, concealing the ache in her heart for a few fleeting moments was all she wanted.

But when Natasha stayed silent, Y/n turned and left, leaving the makeshift ice pack abandoned on the side. She couldn’t stay and let herself fall apart anymore. Her heart had broken twice that night, but why did it hurt so much worse now? Why did Natasha, her maid, have a stronger grip on it than her husband?

#natasha romanoff #marvel #fanfic #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fanfic #wlw #angst #AU #forbidden love #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #rich wife aesthetic #natasha romanoff hot #black widow

[blackswan446]

thief

→ pairing: yan!jjk x reader

→ synopsis: in which a girl's purse gets stolen by an unlikely thief.

→ wc: 3167

→ cws: mentions of getting raped/murdered (not implied to have happened/will happen, more acknowledging that it could have happened), implied smut at the end

→ notes: aaa i hope you guys like it!!!

—

the sound of quiet chatter buzzed in the atmosphere. as you ascended the stairs leading to the subway station, the brisk evening air hit your face, leaving a bitter kiss on your exposed cheeks and prompting you to adjust your fuzzy white scarf to sit just a little bit above your nose.

you walked hurriedly, eager to get out of the cold and home to the hot shower and sofa that had been calling your name all day. your job, an assistant to the director at a small, ordinary insurance company was just that; ordinary. there was little to no substance to your work, and the most exciting topics of discussion were whose kids were getting married and what type of sweets were sitting in the break room. as mundane as it was, you appreciated the routine of it. your boss was like every other, your fellow office ladies treated you well, and it put food on the table, so who were you to complain?

as you strayed further and further from the subway exit, and strolled through more isolated and empty streets, you quickened your pace and stood up straighter, sticking close to the white glow of the streetlights. though the neighborhood you lived in was fairly safe and quiet, things still happened. glancing at the dark houses surrounding you, you kept walking, soles hitting the concrete with a soft thud with every step you took.

you were snapped out of your thoughts of dinner and a movie when you noticed something at the end of the street. more accurately, someone. their tall, shadowy figure contrasted sharply with the brightness of the streetlight they stood under, and it was only drawing closer to you. sticking your hands deep into your pockets and averting your eyes from the dark silhouette of the man that was moving in your direction, you took a deep breath and tried to clear your mind of the anxious thoughts that began to cloud the serene skies of your psyche.

calm down. not everybody you see out at night is a murderer.

the man, who you could now see was donning a black face mask and matching black hoodie, walked with slumped posture and his hands hanging sadly by his side. despite his depressing stance, he was very obviously a good bit taller than you and had a full, strong, build. in other words, he could, without a doubt, pick you up and shove you into a car with ease no matter how hard you fought back. a chill ran down your spine at the very thought, and as you finally passed by him, you silently prayed to every single god, goddess, and deity in the sky as he whooshed by. your relief, which was sweet and comforting, pushed the anxiety out of your body and wrapped you up in a warm hug as he left your peripheral vision.

that was, until you felt a strong yank on your purse from behind.

your stomach lurched at the sudden movement. the force, which was strong enough to rip your hand from the warmth of your pocket, pulled your arm backwards far enough to almost make you fall over. you felt the thin leather strap of your purse slide off your coated arm, past your shaking hand and into the grasp of the man you had just seen.

he took off down the street with loud, thumping, footsteps. it was in this very moment in time, this exact millisecond, you messed up, bad.

fueled by adrenaline, and without doing any logical thinking, you raced after him, heart pumping wildly in your chest as you struggled to catch up with him. your bag, which was a bright and bold red color, stuck out amongst the darkness of his outfit and the night around you, and, from this point of view, looked more like a big target rather than a cool accessory.

your forehead broke out into an uncomfortable sweat as you continued after him. the man had stamina, you'd give him that. it was unsurprising to you, based on the sole fact that he looked like he spent most of his life at the gym, but you had to give him credit. this man could run.

your lungs, which were screaming for a break by this point, were on the verge of collapse. your feet ached from how hard they were hitting the ground, your legs threatening to give out beneath you. a sharp, sudden, pain struck you in your side, the same type of pain you'd get after running for too long on the playground as a kid. and a hard lump sat in the back of your throat, thick and painful as you tried to swallow the saliva in your mouth. you could feel yourself staggering, quickly losing your pace and letting him get ahead. he, on the other hand, looked like he could do this for days, his strides long and even, his posture now perfect, and his speed unmatched.

your entire body protested, sending you more than enough signals that it was time to stop, but your mind persisted, urging you to keep going and reclaim what was yours. just when you were about to give up, one of the gods you had prayed to earlier finally woke up, saw your situation, and decided to grant you some mercy. whether it was true mercy or disdain in disguise, was a question without a clear answer. this action manifested in the form of the thief in front of you turning a corner into what you understood to be a long, narrow, alleyway.

though you were grateful that he was now cornered and stuck, you couldn't help but wonder why he had chosen to go down there. it was fairly obvious by the trashcans and dumpsters that this wasn't a traveled and open road, but a dead end, a guaranteed end to a glorious race in which he would come out to be the loser. why did he choose to take this route?

ignoring your own confusion, you gasped for air after your sprint and wondered if it was even worth it. this was the very situation you had been warned about your entire life, one that plagued your mind on nights such as this one and added to the endless worries already stuck in your mind. and besides, by now, the slimy perp had probably jumped whatever fence was at the back of the alley and could very well be in the next town over by now.

accepting your defeat and resigning to your fate of having to replace almost everything you owned, you started to turn away from the shady alley and start back towards your house, still struggling to get a full breath of air into your burning lungs. you paused when you heard quiet footsteps from behind you. before you could actually react, you felt a strong hand land on your right shoulder and pull you backwards, almost making you stumble onto the ground. the person's other hand tightly grasped the upper left quadrant of your arm, pulling you closer to their chest.

you shrieked, flailing your one free arm and trying to step on their foot in an attempt to loosen their grip. they took the hand off your shoulder and instead clasped it over your mouth, silencing your screams as they gently guided you to walk into the dark and mysterious alley. over the pounding of your heart, which was loud and banging in your ears, you could hear some mumblings of what sounded like gentle and quiet praise, which is the last thing you would've expected from somebody who had just robbed you and forced you into an alley.

he slowly led you to the back of the creepy passage, not bothering to be rough or abrasive in the process. upon observation, you didn't see much besides trash and puddles of murky water. what stuck out to you was really your purse. instead of it being dumped out, open, or otherwise discarded lazily, it was instead sitting neatly in a dry part of the alley, away from any garbage or liquids. it looked like it had been placed there with care and concern, which further puzzled you on what this guy's intentions were.

you finally stopped walking, the man behind you removing the large hand that gripped your arm. before he removed the hand from over your mouth, he leaned in closer to your ear, close enough for you to feel his breath on your neck and smell the sweet cologne on his skin. "you'll be quiet for me, right? you won't scream or yell?" he asked, sending a shiver down your back. his voice was deep and masculine yet still, somehow, soft and kind. you nodded shakily, too scared to act out of line and subject yourself to more pain than you were already in for.

slowly taking his hand away from your dry mouth, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. he took both of his hands and sat them upon your shoulders once again, guiding you to sit down against a rough brick wall. pushing you to the ground, you sank down with your knees tight against your chest, shivering from the cold, damp, pavement. at this point, his tall figure was towering over you, causing your heart to sink down to your stomach and making your hands sweat. so many thoughts ran though your head, seeping into your mind like red ink on a clean white shirt.

the man, who has busied himself with removing his mask and pulling his hood slightly back, knelt down right in front of you. if you didn't know any better, you would've mistaken this man for a celebrity, based on looks alone. you hated yourself for thinking so, but he was undeniably and undoubtedly the most handsome man you had ever seen in your whole life. his face was angelic, which was ironic seeing as this man was the furthest thing from a symbol of heaven that you had ever met. his eyes, instead of being dark, beady, and lifeless, were round and bright. his pupils glinted in the light of the streetlamp outside the alley, despite the distance between the two. his nose was smooth and sharp, and his lips were thin but still nice, adorned with a shiny ring on the bottom left. his hair, which partially stuck out of his black hood, was cut into a chic and modern mullet-like style. no, there was no denying that this man was handsome, but all that glitters is not gold, and that was more than obvious in this situation.

overwhelmed and scared, you couldn't control the tears that fell from your eyes and rolled onto your cheeks. a look of sadness and concern crossed the man's face, and he looked almost confused to see your emotional response. "don't cry, sweetheart, why're you crying?" he said affectionately, reaching out and wiping the tears that stained your face with his thumb. "hey, now...you don't have to cry. it's just me." he murmured, as if that would bring you any sort of comfort.

he sighed, and put his hands on your knees, which were the only thing in between you two. you shrunk back, as if you could get any further away from him. "don't hurt me. please, don't hurt me." you whispered desperately, voice quivering. he raised his eyebrows, surprised. "hurt you?! oh darling, you've got it all backwards." he cooed, half-smiling at you and your fear. "i'd never hurt you."

you exhaled shakily, still trembling under his continued touch on your knees. "princess, i understand that you're scared, but you don't need to be, alright? it's me, don't you remember me?" he asked, his thumbs making mindless little patterns on the fabric of your flared work pants. you looked at him, more confused than scared. remember him from where? was he an old classmate or coworker?

he picked up on your bewilderment, and smiled coolly. "oh, that's alright. we haven't seen each other for a while, and i guess you didn't really know about me." he said, "it's me, jungkook, from high school!" he exclaimed, his smile now wide and full. the name rang a bell, and you remembered seeing the young boy in passing sometimes. he wasn't someone you ever interacted with, you didn't know any friends of his and in general you didn't have anything to do with each other.

the look of realization that passed over your face didn't go unnoticed by him either, and he chuckled as he watched your thoughts unfold. "you remember me now?" he questioned, only to get no response from you. he sighed again, eyes wandering down your body and back up within a second. "man, highschool seems so long ago now. i was broke, and lonely, and head over heels for you--well, that part hasn't changed at all." he reminisced. your face contorted, from fear to visible confusion, and you managed to utter out one word. "what?"

he laughed softly, almost in disbelief. "yeah, it's true. from the minute i saw you, actually. you were--and still are--so bright, and beautiful, and kind...i wasn't exactly someone that you would hang around with. i was a loser, i was boring and awkward. but i still held onto you and kept you in my heart. i even made a promise to myself that one day, i'd get you all for myself, and...here we are." he said, beaming from ear to ear.

the world around you began to spin as you processed what he had just told you. what was he talking about, get you all to himself? how creepy! he didn't seem to think so, though. in fact, he seemed to have a sick and sinister sense of pride, a twisted feeling of confidence and an idea of love that had been twisted inside out and covered in a thick, sticky, coat of tar.

"why are you doing this?" you choked out, more tears threatening to leak from your eyes. he laughed at your inquiry, as if you had just asked the most obvious question known to mankind. "why am i doing this? oh, babe, you're so clueless, and that's exactly why. see, even though you are the most perfect and flawless girl in my eyes, you're just so...vulnerable. that's not anything to be ashamed of, darling, if anything, it's what i love most about you. you've never excelled in watching your surroundings or being careful, especially when we were younger. it was only a matter of time before something bad happened to you, i mean, look at you now! you need someone who can protect you from the danger that you would inevitably find yourself in, and that's where i come in." he explained calmly, stroking your hair gently as he did so.

the tears that stuck in your waterline ran down your face like raindrops on glass, smearing the black mascara you had put on earlier that morning. he scowled and wiped your tears once again. "oh, baby..." he whispered. without any warning or notice, he pushed one of your knees away from the other and slid forward, placing himself between your legs, so that they were wrapped around either side of his torso. despite your efforts to push him away, you were no match for him.

before you could move your head or pull away, jungkook leaned more forward and pressed his lips into yours. the kiss, while being gentle and sweet, also felt fiery and desperate. taking your bottom lip in between his teeth and slipping his tongue in your mouth, one of his hands shot to your waist and pushed you back into the wall, stilling your movements. the other hand reached up and cupped your face, angling your head in an attempt to reach further into your mouth.

despite everything in your brain, everything you had ever been warned about and against, everything that you had learned, a teeny, tiny part of your brain couldn't ignore how his lips against yours felt so good, so natural and safe, so right. every one of your instincts were telling you that this was more than a bad idea. these feelings also came with the gut-wrenching realization that jungkook was right. you were vulnerable, obviously, this man had just mugged you, led you into a dark alley where he could have easily raped or murdered you, and here you were making out with him?!

you couldn't stop the hand that flew to his bicep to pull him closer, and you felt him smirk against your swollen lips. his hands traveled from where they were to the buttons of your shirt, busying themselves with undoing the smooth plastic buttons. that was, until a police car sped past the alley, sirens and all, startling the both of you.

jungkook pulled away from your lips, sitting up and admiring the shade of purple that began to ghost your plump lips. you readjusted yourself, sitting up a bit straighter and avoiding his piercing gaze. "such a good girl...complain and cry all you want, my love, but something's telling me that you're more on board with this than you're willing to admit." he teased, a playful smile crossing his lips. "come on, you can say it. you want to come home with me, right? come on, i want you to tell me. you can do it." he prodded, stroking your cheek with his hand lovingly.

you nodded quietly, eyes glued to the ground, face pink and flushed.

hook, line and sinker.

he was definitely happy with you and your compliance, but he couldn't help but be both concerned and relieved at the same time. sure, you were vulnerable and overly-trusting, he knew that. but he expected a little more fight, even from you. his heart broke a little bit, at the thought of you being oh-so damaged that you fold the second he put his lips to yours. you poor little thing.

he knew you'd fall right into his little trap, he knew how you'd chase after him, he knew that you'd be scared. he knew you so well, yet you had still managed to shock him entirely. your trustful nature came as a surprise to him. and now, as the power to entirely destroy you sat in his tattooed hands, he had a choice to make.

did he stick to his original plan, and swear to keep you safe and happy, or did he

absolutely

ruin

you?

though he came here with pure intentions, the sinister opportunities that rested in front of him were too good to pass up. after all, he could always built you back from the ground up, couldn't he?

and now, within a split second, you went from a little lamb that had found her safe haven to one being led to its slaughter. lifting your chin slowly and meeting your eyes, jungkook gave you a sweet, innocent, smile and caressed your cheek.

"now, how about we finish what we've started?"

#bts #bts fanfiction #bts x reader #yandere bts #yandere bts x reader #yandere jungkook x reader #yandere jungkook #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #yandere #yandere jeongguk #jeongguk x reader #jeon jungkook x reader

[rubberonmyduck]

Lust's Sexiest Couple (Part I)

[Prologue] [I] [II] [III] AO3 Link

Weakened angelic powers and one mishap with a rogue exorcist later, Lucifer is injured. As the looming threat of war with Heaven hangs above his head, and the delay of getting a healing spell from Stolas, Lucifer is forced to make a decision. New to the Pride Ring, you land yourself a job at I.M.P.-- the Immediate Murder Professionals. Desperate to make some money during a client-low, Blitz agrees to contract out a bodyguard for Lucifer Morningstar, the King of Hell. The catch? You're the one Blitz picks for the job.

Curse Stolas for being right– curse him for always being right!

Lucifer paced across the lobby, his sour mood reflected in how his face scrunched up, and how his heels hit the tiles exceptionally hard. It was almost as if he were expelling some angelic energy from him, warning those around him to stay clear. Not even the Radio Demon had bothered to tease the man this morning.

Oh, how Lucifer wished he could call this whole ridiculous plan off. A bodyguard? How pathetic! The news sites were sure to drag him once they caught wind of this, just like how they did when she decided to leave. Dramatically, might one add! Lucifer glanced at the golden ring on his finger. Yet he was too much of a pussy to take it off. Lucifer let out a huff, shaking his head.

He had the whole trip downward to think of some lie to conjure up. Sure the Sins– most of them– would be understanding of Lucifer’s predicament, but he couldn’t say the same for anyone else. Not that he cared about a sinner’s opinions on him, it just hurt his pride a little bit.

Okay, maybe he cared.

Charlie, bless her soul, had been nagging Lucifer all week about this new arrangement. She was concerned, and she wanted nothing more than for Lucifer to just stay at her hotel, letting Charlie keep an eye on her dad while he healed. She even offered to accompany him on his ventures downward, but Lucifer stood firm in his decision, no matter how much he hated it. He’d feel like a terrible dad bringing destruction to Charlie’s dream. To quell her worries, he offered to introduce the imp before he left. Meanwhile, Lucifer planned to stay back at the barron mansion he called home– if anyone attempted anything at the king, they’d be swiftly taken out by the demonic security he placed a long while prior.

“Do you at least know who it’ll be?” Charlie’s voice knocked Lucifer out of his thoughts, prompting him to look over at his daughter who was standing a few feet away, one of her hands resting on the wall.

“The boss, uhm– bits or something– informed me yesterday.” Lucifer wracked his brain for the name, coming up short. He couldn’t even remember it– Lucifer fished out his phone, tapping around to try and open up his previous conversation with Blitz. Just as he was about to speak again, there was a knock at the door. Lucifer froze.

Charlie’s attention went to the door, the girl quickly rushing over to greet whoever stumbled upon the hotel. As she opened it, she was greeted with the sight of a shorter imp.

“Good morning, Princess Charlotte!” You set your bag down and gave the woman in front of you a slight bow. The pictures didn’t do her justice, you noticed.

Charlie flashed you a grin, quicking moving forward to grasp your hands in her own, shaking it loosely but quickly. “Please! Call me Charlie!” She was quick to inquire your own name, complimenting the tactical outfit you had on. After responding to her, you noticed the king come into view. You gave him a bow, much like the one you gave Charlie.

“Your Majesty.”

“I informed your boss you’ll be out of the office for a few days,” he started, stepping past Charlie and out of the hotel, motioning for you to follow him. “You’ll be accompanying me to the Lust Ring.”

You picked your bag back up, rushing to get back to Lucifer before the two of you halted, hearing Charlie call out to her dad.

“Dad, wait!”

Lucifer turned his head, his body twisted just enough to see her. She rushed over, giving him a tight, side hug. Lucifer returned the hug.

“Stay safe! Bye!” Lucifer grinned at his daughter.

“Goodbye, Charlie.”

The sight was cute, and despite the pure awkwardness that came with standing only a foot away from the interaction, you couldn’t help but smile. Charlie rushed back into her hotel, waving at her dad once more before closing the door. Charlie had a very bubbly personality, and you couldn’t help but hope you’d see her again sometime.

Your attention turned onto Lucifer, who held a derpy smile as he stared back at the building. Somehow, the sight made you feel a bit queasy “So,” you started, distracting yourself from the feeling as you mentally ticked off a box list in your head.

“The bodyguard isn’t for your daughter?”

Lucifer raised an eyebrow at you, his face falling to a more neutral, unreadable position. The queasiness you previously felt drifted away as he did so. “No.”

“It’s for you.” You pressed on. You remembered the alleyway once again, now almost completely certain it was from that incident you witnessed, but you knew you couldn’t say anything about it unless Lucifer himself told you. You weren’t that dumb. But a part of you wondered if there was more to this than that golden blood you saw that night.

“I can’t exactly leave the Pride Ring with a target on my back.”

“But why?”

Lucifer simply ignored you.

You held your bag close to your body as you stood next to Lucifer, your legs burning from having to keep up with the man’s long strides. Between the annoyance of how fast he walked and how many terrible shortcuts he insisted on taking the two of you, you still noticed how all the other sinners seemed to part whenever Lucifer came into view. You were certain it was more out of fear than respect, though, knowing how a good portion of the people down here in the Pride Ring were terrible.

A few days ago, you took it upon yourself to research a little more about Lucifer. Despite his status as a Sin and the Ruler of Hell, you knew little about him. In fact, you knew more about that tacky clown, Mammon, than King Lucifer. Regardless, you quickly learned a few key ideas about him.

People did not respect Lucifer. Like at all. Sinners, Hellborn, even hellhounds and imps all thought the man was an absolute joke when it came to running this wretched place. Part of you didn’t blame him though, but you could see the anger the denizens had. He barely made any appearances in Pride, and even few in any of the other Rings– no wonder you barely knew who he was at first. Apparently the only thing he did for his people in the recent years was allowing a yearly extermination to happen in exchange for his family’s and Hellborn’s safety. What a guy.

Speaking of exterminations, there had been one only weeks prior to your occupation of the Pride Ring. You remembered Blitz mentioning it once or twice, where he would quickly follow up with how it didn’t affect them anyways, so there was no need to worry. But he did advise you to make living arrangements elsewhere that day. You found a few news articles on it, and one of the videos that came up was of the King himself. He looked more demonic, a pair of crimson horns jutting out his head, his eyes a shade of red and a whole bunch of eyes that honestly creeped you out. Sinners seemed to have a similar reaction, outright stating their newfound fear of the man. Well, most of them did anyways– some of the reactions were rather horny.

Regardless, the whole situation is how you landed yourself in this exact moment, first in line to the hellevator down to Lust. In fact, you noticed the original departure schedule had changed to fit Lucifer’s needs the moment you two walked into the building. Convenient.

At the sound of a ding, the elevator doors opened, revealing a similar golden pattern the rest of the building had. As the two of you stepped into the empty elevator– that no one else dared to even try and get in,” Lucifer spoke to you once more.

“I have a meeting with Asmodeus. I couldn’t find anyone willing to drive us there,“ Lucifer rolled his eyes, “and I don’t suppose you know how to drive?”

Despite being slightly insulted by his assumptions, you shook your head. He was right, afterwall. The doors closed. You felt the tiny compartment shift, starting its descent.

“Then we’ll walk.”

“How far exactly?” You set your bag down on the ground, leaning down slightly to open it and dig through. You pulled out a tiny pistol.

“I have this for a short, five minute walk, but,” you set the gun next to your bag, reaching in with both hands to pull out another weapon, similar to the first but much bigger. You pointed the barrel to the sky. “I also have a bigger version should it be longer.” Lucifer stared at you, the spot where his nose would be scrunching up.

You bit your lip at the look, your face slightly heating up. “Do you prefer knives?” You suggested, searching through the bag yet again. “I think Millie gave me some–”

Lucifer reached out, placing his hand on your arm and gently pulling it out of the bag.

“It’s– It’s a ten minute walk,” He stuttered, concern laced into the words he spoke, “The small gun will be fine.”

You shrugged, giving him a grin. “If you insist, Your Majesty.”

The elevator dinged once again, a robotic voice coming out a shitty speaker to announce their arrival at the Lust Ring. You quickly shoved your weapons back in your bag, opting to place your pistol in one of your pockets. The doors opened slowly, revealing a lobby similar to the once in Pride. This one, while still decorated with subtle apple and snake motifs, had blue accents replacing the shimmering gold you saw before. The place was filled as much as the one above was, but it seemed to have more succubus than regular imps.

Lucifer led you out of the building. The first thing you noticed as you walked outside was how blue everything else was. Even the sky! It made sense the more you thought about it– Greed was similar, but its whole get-up was the color green. Hell, the Pride Ring had its own red theme going on too. Though the Lust Ring seemed much cleaner than both the Greed and Pride Rings. You noticed the shift in Lucifer’s demeanor, his shoulders relaxing and his face falling into a more chilled expression. Perhaps he enjoyed the cleanliness as much as you did.

You maneuvered yourself to the King's left side, pulling your pistol back out of your pocket. “I’ll take the alleyway,” you announced.

This way, if anybody were to attempt something in a less than visible spot, you had easier access to them. Lucifer seemed to catch on, giving a nod and started his walk on your right without complaint.

#hazbin hotel lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel #helluva boss #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #immediate bodyguard professionals

[ravencincaide]

Over a cigarette 

Summary:  You tried to do something nice for the Mafia, for your boss, outside your job requirements and working hours. And all you asked was a little something in return. OR it took the duration of his smoke for you to go from another stupid subordinate into someone possibly interesting. 

Pairing: Subordinate reader x Boss Chuuya 

Inspired by anon request: Boss Chuuya and reader who caught Chuuya's attention.

Warnings: Cursing, Smoking cigarettes and mention of alcohol,

“ The hell you want?” 

The highest executive- the boss of the entire Port Mafia- voice did not sound amused; if anything it held an angry undertone as it boomed around the dark, narrow cobblestone alley. The old street light shone a dim yellow hue casting long, demonic like shadows behind the mafiaso. Contorted the shape of his hat and the slim cigarette into something ungodly, in the most condemned definitions of that word. 

You saw him bring the cigarette up to his lips, heard the sharp intake of breath, noticed the red glow of the ash at the tip followed by a slow controlled exhale. Then a stern; “ Do I need to repeat myself?” 

“ Are you always this peachy or did I pick the short straw?” The attempt at playfulness and teasing was ruined by the shake in your voice; the unmistakable fear. He was an exceptional man but he was also the mafia boss. Your boss’s boss. 

“ I don’t need to be fucking ‘sweet’ to lowly pawns” he took another drag of his cigarette. The simple motion that was valued above your existence; the thing that saved you from his murderous wrath. Your life was worth less than the thin nicotine stick that was salvaged with his every sharp inhale. As long as you kept yourself brief, respectful yet valued at the price of that cigarette your life would be spared. Perhaps even rewarded for your brassiness. 

You shifted from one foot to another, an action which earned you a firm stare- a warning that you’d lose said foot if you did not start talking. 

“ Did you know your men are fraternizing with the government?” Despite your fear, your voice came out firm, clearly confident in your assessment. Chuuya gave you no attention, but he did not silence you either. This meant you could proceed with your observations. This was it, your chance; all or nothing. A make it or break it for your mafia career. 

You spoke of what you saw, rambled and stumbled over words in a fiery rush that not likely made much sense in the wee hours of the night. The ending of words swallowed by the icy wind, while the content, the red thread tangled in descriptions, side thoughts, additional details that came out in a jumbled mess. You were trying to be as clear as possible- and yet you likely made as much sense as a fish riding a bicycle. 

Still he let you talk. If anything you swore he took slower, more shallow drags of his smoke. The very smoke which now rested on the bottom of his parted lips. Gorgeous lips- not that you would ever utter such thoughts to the man aloud. But where were you? Your voice grew slower as you picked your brain for additional information that was essential to your report. To your surprise the demonic man before you threw a helping probe; 

“- Strong accusations girl” his eyes narrowed dangerously, the angry glare made you shudder in your boots as the gravity of the situation weighed on you. Cold sweat ran down your back as you stood frozen until his words registered in your frightened mind. Then you instantly fumbled through your purse until half a dozen pictures made it out. In an instant you passed them onto him,in the process you almost dropped them. Almost. The flicker of his fingers over the photographs echoed in the small space between you. The meters that separated you felt far too imitate, too close for you. Never before had you stood before someone this frighteningly powerful and you wished to not repeat this nerve wracking experience ever again. Perhaps you should have stayed in your lane- ignored what you saw and kept existing within your lowly rank? Maybe even– 

“ huh, so your price?” Chuuya fixed you with a firm stare that instantly snapped you out of your self critical thoughts. The price, right, you almost forgot all about it. Saying nothing would raise suspicion- and it was not like your heart was empty of desires. 

“ A week off” your voice sounded more confident than you felt. “ I want a week to myself- I- I think it’s a fair reward for spending my only night off from work for the sake of Port Mafia- doing something above my paygrade and–” you trailed off as Chuuya took another drag of his cigarette. 

“ Damn right you went above your paygrade, stuck your nose where it didn’t fucking belong and  risked the cover of m’men” Chuuya fixed you with a firm stare just as you felt your stomach drop. Ice cold dread washed over you as your mind registered the implications behind his words. The anger not at his mens supposed betrayal but at your inability to stay within your lane. 

An overachiever who’s actions brought more troubles than positives. 

“ Were you seen?” 

You shook your head, your eyes cast down and firmly locked on your intertwined fingers as though bound by invisible chains- a prisoner before their executioner. The morbid comparison was accurate nonetheless; “ No, I left before they could recognize me as anything other than a drunken party girl” 

“ hmm” that one sound said so little and so much all at once; a hint towards your destiny. Yet he said nothing more on the matter. Precious seconds ticked away as less and less of the now-almost bud remained. 

“ So.. how badly did I fuck up?” you asked in a quiet voice, rocking back and forth on your heels. The sooner you found out, the sooner you’d know whether your foolishness had cost you your pay, any chance of upward mobility within the Mafia or your life. You shuddered at the thought of the last option, hoped he wouldn’t notice. And if he did, then he’d attribute it to your skimpy attire on the chilly Friday night. 

As if to torture you, Chuuya remained silent, took his time to flicker the gathered ash from the tip of his cigarette onto the ground before he brought the almost finished smoke back up to his lips. 

“  Next clock in’s Friday, 9 A.M sharp in my office” Chuuya stated as he took another, final, drag from his smoke“ Don’t even think about being a second late.” 

His gloved hand flickered the cigarette bud onto the ground between the two of you as you let out a yell of happiness. Before he had a change of mind- you did not believe the mafia executive had a heart- you bowed to him. Half in gratitude, half in respect.  Then you turned on your heel and ran out of the alley, not even waiting for his dismissal. 

In doing so, you miss the almost mild expression on Chuuya's face and the quiet murmur; that maybe with the right training you’d make a fine protege. 

Author note: *Yelp* finally this fic is done! Thank you Anon for your request, I really had fun writing this pair of Chuuya-boss fics. And I will definitely do more of them in the future. Hope this was worth the wait~

Liked this fic and want more? check out Raven's masterlist! Want another part? See Over a Gunshot

©ravencincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reposted/copied anywhere else without my consent, please inform me!

#raven cincade's works #raven cincaide's ask #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #bungou stray dogs chuuya #chuuya x yn #chuuya x y/n #chuuya x you #chuuya boss #chuuuya x fem!reader #possible protege

[iovesia]

❛⠀HIP TO BE SQUARE.

kinktober 2023. — day two.

synopsis. your boss' robotic smile and empty eyes did nothing to ease your mind when you, his little assistant, was forced to stay back one night.. and see his mask of sanity slip.

✶⠀ ׅ⠀ ࣪⠀warnings. patrick bateman!kevin lomax 𝑥 f!secretary!reader — dubious consent. oral (f!receiving). orgasm denial. descriptions of murder. toxic masculinity undertones.

josie's little note. ignore the fact that i'm already 3 days behind on ktober.. also i have no clue how to write patrick bateman-esque style— so ignore the lack of.. poetic fancy writing !!

THERE IS AN IDEA OF A KEVIN LOMAX.

Behind the calculated smile, and robotic handshake. Behind the carefully curated laugh, his stiff posture, and the dull, void look in his mocha eyes— he’s simply not there.

Kevin Lomax is a walking caricature of the average arrogant, New York City lawyer at Milton, Chadwick & Waters. From his meticulously slicked back locks of raven hair, down to his expensive snake leather boots— Kevin Lomax is the poster boy for champions in the cut throat sport of law. Success bled through his pores and he reeked of old money. 

The heels of his boots clacked harshly against the polished marble as he entered the top floor of the firm. Where he belonged.

On top.

Above the rest.

Most importantly, above you.

Kevin despised many of the employees at Milton, Chadwick & Waters, yet he remained a level of professionalism. His innate apathy towards almost everyone and anyone wavered at the sight of you. His meek little secretary.

Spineless. Push-over. Try hard. People pleaser.

Whether it be your crooked smile, or your awkward stance when he’s coldly scolding you, Kevin couldn’t stand you. Like a bug he couldn’t kill. Like an itch he couldn’t scratch. His shy little secretary. Oh how he couldn’t stand you.

Kevin’s cold gaze managed to always meet your soft, worried one when he passes by your cubicle. Resisting the urge to grimace at the sight of you— sitting pretty at your little space with your little trinkets covering the desk— Kevin threw you a polite smile.

Kevin had pictured splashing your blood all over those stupid little trinkets. 

He could never bring himself to do it. To slice your delicate throat or pierce the soft skin that covered your ribs, and watch the crimson flow down and spill over your baby blue blouse and fitting pencil skirt. Like a child picking the petals of a daisy, he couldn't decide your fate. 

She loves me. She loves me not.

Worst part was that you adored Kevin. You saw past his yuppie trash personality, and through rose-coloured coloured lenses all you saw was his pearly white smile. Cold and manufactured, but directed at you nonetheless.

I’ll gut her like a fish. I’ll make her cum on my desk.

Sitting calmly at your cubicle with the landline to your ear, you’re taking quick notes down on a piece of paper as the male voice continues rambling in your ear. You reply with polite “mhm” and “alright, sir”, internally hoping for him to hang up soon.

“Yes… yes… I will make sure Mr. Lomax gets your message,” and with that you lay the phone back down. Letting out a tired sigh, you continue shifting through the mess of papers sprawled everywhere. As you try and organise yourself— your preppy older colleague comes by. She’s dressed in her sharpest dress, her granny glasses hanging by a thin gold chain.

“Will you be a dear, and head to Mr. Lomax’s office? He’s expecting your research file on the Montgomery case,” Betsy smiles softly at you, her crow’s feet accentuating. 

Your mouth opens as you damn near drop everything in your hands.

“T-The Montgomery case? Today? .. Right now?” Your voice cracks at the end of each word. Betsy furrows her brows, putting her glasses over her eyes as she reads from her small notepad. 

“Mhmm, today,” She nods in confirmation. “You.. You didn’t forget did you?”

Yes you did. 

“No, I didn’t,” you laugh awkwardly, anxiety crawling up the back of your spine. Clearing your throat, you hurriedly look for random bits of paper to appear busy. 

“Well, he sent me here to fetch you,” Betsy shrugs, unbeknownst of your internal panic. “Be quick about it, dearie!”

You were so fucked.

Kevin crosses his arms over his chest, a smug cheshire grin etched on his lips, and his void eyes staring down at you, absorbing the light within the room. You swallowed nervously as your boss towered over you. 

“You couldn’t finish it or you didn’t want to?” Kevin quirks a brow, his southern drawl was slow and cold. “Was there a problem?” 

“No, no, no,” you take a pause, biting the skin of the inside of your cheek. Mr. Lomax, I really did my best with the time I had—”

“If this is your best, then clearly there’s a bigger problem than I thought,” Kevin cuts you off abruptly, making your pathetic excuses die in your throat. As he takes a step forward, you take a step back like a prey backing from a predator. “Was there something else so important taking up your time?”

“No, that’s not—”

“You know how many women would kill for this job?” You know how many women I’ve killed?

His almost paternal scolding makes your face flush in embarrassment. Kevin’s nostrils flare as he lets out an irritated huff. The indignity of it all was too much to bear. The two of you stood there in a capsule of his silent annoyance. 

“Mr. Lomax, I just—”

“You work 30 hours a week and make 70k a year, you’re offered more vacation days than any of my other secretaries, you’re free to adjust your schedule need be..” Kevin takes a step forward with each sentence until you're backed up against his desk. “And you can’t even finish a measly little case summary?”

“This is absurd. I had no clue you needed it today,” your voice shakes as you try to defend yourself. You take in a curt breath, bravely looking up at Kevin with your soft doe eyes. “You expected me to complete a full fledged out case summary, at least 20 pages worth— and overnight on top of everything else?”

“If you want to keep your job, yes.” If you want to keep your spleen, yes.

Kevin’s dismissive eye roll, and lick of his lips make you bite your tongue. His arms uncross from his chest, resting on his hips, pushing his suit jacket back and exposing his tight dress shirt. Your gaze shamefully focused on each curve of his muscles under his shirt, rather than the words leaving his mouth. 

“Get on the desk.”

You freeze once again, snapping out of your thoughts as the colour drains from your face.

“Uh— sorry, excuse me?” You stammer, batting your long lashes, praying you must have misheard him. Kevin’s face remains smug as he kisses his teeth, taking another step closer to you, his warm breath hitting your face.

“Get on the desk,” Kevin’s voice is low and sensuality drips from each syllable. His fingers shift from his hip as he toys with the silk bow on your blouse, silently examining the fabric and cost of your shirt. “Don’t make me say it again.”

“Mr. Lomax, that’s completely inappropriate,” you protest weakly. 

“I don’t think you care as much as you pretend to,” Kevin’s smirk only grows, his taunting words making your mouth go dry. His finger presses against your chest and like a willing servant, you sit back on his large mahogany desk. You couldn’t speak. Not a single sound left your lips as Kevin stood right in front of you, his hands holding firmly onto your knees yet gently pushing them apart. 

Let’s see if you’re as pretty on the inside as you are out.

His careful fingers held the hem of your pencil skirt, pulling it up inch by inch and exposing your soft thighs wrapped in the thin material of your stockings. Your cheeks flushed and you swallowed nervously, and as you tried to close your legs again, he harshly pulled them apart again.

“Be a good girl, will ya?” Kevin mocks, quirking a brow and turning his attention down your body. His hand traces down your inner thighs, the analytical look in his eyes turns into arousal at the sight of your underwear. “How much were these tights?”

“Uh— I dunno.. 20 dollars maybe?— Hey!” 

A loud tear suddenly echoes through his private office, and your eyes widen as Kevin ruthlessly rips your pantyhose down the middle. “They weren’t very flattering on you, anyways.”

Kevin’s blase attitude towards your clothing was made up for his boiling desire to feel your skin. You lie back further on the desk, resting on your elbows and craning your neck to catch a glimpse of what he’s doing. Your boss continues unravelling you, like a kid on christmas morning.

“Cute panties,” Kevin taunts, his finger hooking into the waistband of your underwear, slowly peeling them off you. Before you could say anything, the taste of silk fills your mouth as Kevin’s gagging you with your own underwear. “No hard feelins’, doll. Walls are awfully thin here.”

Your skin felt on fire, burning with shame and desire as the Kevin Lomax— your boss— knelt down, disappearing in between your legs. His cold rings cooled your skin as he held tight onto your thighs, his nails pinching into you. A sinister chuckle escaped Kevin’s throat, his warm breath blowing on your cunt. You bite back a soft whimper when Kevin’s velvety tongue flattens against your folds. You whimper and mewl against the gag in your mouth as Kevin’s agonisingly slow licks make your toes curl. 

“Such a pretty pussy,” Kevin’s whispered words send chills down your spine. The pads of his fingers gently part your wet folds, his lips latching onto your hardened bud. High pitched moans struggle to get out as Kevin’s skillful tongue swirls around your bundle of nerves, and you clench your nails into your palms. 

You were arching your back for the man that tormented your fellow employees. New York’s most notorious lawyer now buried in between your legs, his nose pressed against your mouth as he devours all you have to give. His pointer and index finger easily slide into your needy hole, and your walls fluttered around his fingers as he pumped them in and out of your hot cunt. 

Your toes curled and sweat pooled at your hairline, as you bit down hard on your panties in your mouth. Kevin’s attempts at keeping things quiet were fruitless as the most sinful of noises left your pretty lips. The simultaneous movement of his tongue and fingers were unrelenting and tortuous as you chased for relief. Your core tightening, and just as you readied for a wave of pleasure—

He let go.

Kevin’s head reappears from your legs, his hands dropping your trembling thighs as he wipes the remnant of your wetness from his mouth. The smug smile faded into his typical stoic gaze, almost grimacing at your whines.

“D-Don’t stop— please—” you beg pathetically through your gag. Kevin glares at you, before checking his expensive Rolex watch, his mood shifted a complete 180º. As you sit up, he snatches your panties from out your mouth.

“Sorry.. I did the best with the time I had,” he mocks your excuses, his words dripping with disdain, his darkened stare drinking in your trembling legs and puffy cunt. “Clean yourself up.. And get me that case summary, end of the day.”

Shock fills your bones and you fail to stammer a single coherent sentence. What the hell? Picking up your torn tights and panties, you inelegantly shift off his large desk, stumbling when your feet meet the floor. You clear your throat, avoiding Kevin’s cold gaze.

“Yes, Mr. Lomax.”

Fin.

— kinktober taglist. @alwaysinblck @sickzmbie @hearteyedbambi @worldsgreatestsinner @rizunaur @sughcashsaiki @cillivnz @97keanu @the-trash-site @keanuthot @sulibbyyyyy @20s7nn @aerangi @prongsio @starrgurl46 @nogr4vity

join the kinktober taglist here.

#𓂃 josie's kinktober ˚ ₊ ‧ #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves imagine #kevin lomax smut #kevin lomax imagine #kevin lomax x reader #kinktober

[1d1195]

Zipper Extra IV

You can read the rest here: Zipper

@harrybabyyyyyyy gave me most of the inspiration on this one. Thank you so much <3 :)

In 7th grade, I learned about dramatic irony and I haven't gotten over it since. So please enjoy a bit of angst (Harry is an idiot, obvi) in the form of Harry once more not communicating his feelings, and a big bit of fluff. Hopefully you'll enjoy. Takes place sometime after the Zipper Extra I, maybe even after a year of dating.

He stood where he was, arm resting on the window as he leaned against it. He took a deep breath, his heart already aching with the feeling that he majorly fucked up and it was exactly the kind of thing she would leave him for. “Yes,” he murmured. There was no use denying it. No use in trying to apologize right now. It was dumb and he needed to own it.

“Harry!” Louis said quietly in the middle of a meeting. He slid his phone across the table to him and Harry was engrossed in taking notes on the information being given that he didn’t pay any mind to Louis or his phone. “Harry,” he snapped without drawing attention of everyone else.

Shaking his head, he looked at Louis with a curious albeit annoyed expression. “What?” He grumbled to his friend and boss. The team of people involved and their accompanying client accumulated to seven total people in the room. Two of which were still talking, disregarding the exchange between Harry and Louis. “M’in the middle of something.”

“For Christ’s sake. Look at the goddamn, phone,” he hissed under his breath.

Sighing, Harry rolled his eyes and grabbed it, noting who it was from partway through reading.

Hey...I know I said that I had Harry to help me if I needed it, but he’s in a meeting and he tends to get really involved with what he’s doing so he probably isn’t noticing my calls...HE is in the file room... and he hasn’t seen me yet but I’m literally hiding behind a shelf and I’m...I’m so uncomfortable. I’m so sorry Louis. I really hate to bother you...could you come here?

Without recognizing or feeling his own movements, Harry was out of the conference room. In fact, Harry only read to the part where HE was in the file room. He vaguely heard Louis’ making an excuse. But Harry was sprinting down the stairs to the room where old cases were stored. Nearly pushed someone into the wall and almost tripped on the last few steps.

Just as he approached the file-room door, he took a deep breath and calmed himself before walking in as casually as he could possibly seem. He made eye contact with the man that he wanted to murder not so long ago. If pressed in anyway, Harry still would. Harry didn’t utter a word. His face was as stoic as he could manage. He didn’t want him to know she was in there. Fortunately, he nodded awkwardly at Harry thinking about their last interaction as well, it seemed. Almost immediately after the thought entered his mind, he left the room.

“Love?” Harry whispered quietly the moment the door shut.

“Oh, thank God,” she sighed with relief. Harry followed the sound of her voice to the correct shelf. Her pulse rate settled in hearing Harry call out to her. She crouched and her heels allowed her to perch above the tile floor. She put her hands over her face. “I had to text Louis,” she whispered. Harry knelt beside her and placed a hand on her back.

“M’so very sorry, baby,” he cooed and leaned forward to kiss her hair. “I should have paid attention to my phone.”

She shook her head. “It’s hard, I don’t want to text you or email you during the day and have people get all in a twist...not that it’s bad what we’re doing it’s...I know they’ll think I’m doing it for—"

“No,” he shook his head. “Kitten, next time y’can scream for me. I’ll come running,” he murmured and brought her back to standing so he could hold her close to his chest. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Harry smelled like a campfire and vanilla. It was dizzying. But it smelled like her own personal sanctuary.

“I know I overreacted—”

“No, kitten. Course y’didn’t. Shh,” he hummed softly.

She sighed again and just continued to breathe in the heady scent of Harry. “I thought it was going to be Louis that came...I’m so happy it’s you,” she mumbled into the jacket of his suit. Harry sighed, feeling overwhelmed with how much he adored her and the relief that she was okay. “You really can’t murder someone for me. Even I would have a hard time defending you in court,” she reminded him.

He smiled; his face pressed against her hair. He inhaled the floral scent and thought about the shampoo he bought so she always had some at his place. After a moment he shook his head in answer to her rebuttal. Part of him was reminded that even though he spent the better part of two decades being cold toward her, he was glad she read his thoughts so much of the time. “I’d gladly serve any sentence on behalf of you, kitten.”

*

Harry’s apartment was marginally closer to work than hers in distance. Work split their places almost in half, hers being slightly further away. “We should leave clothes at each other’s places,” she suggested as she searched through Harry’s dresser for something that wouldn’t drown her in fabric while she walked around his place. Harry leaned against the door frame smiling at her while she went through his clothes.

We should just move in together. I’ve known you my whole life.

She glanced at him and blushed. “I think we have to have some semblance of normalcy to this relationship, Harry. Don’t want to move in just yet.”

“Well, if y’sure. Seems silly. Since y’jus’ read m’mind and all,” he rolled his eyes.

“You also hated me for the better part of twenty years, and I don’t want to bring those feelings back because I leave hair in the shower drain.” Harry loved the idea of her in his shower that he didn’t even feel the need to comment on the fact that he didn’t hate her. “Stop thinking about the shower.”

He didn’t even question it. “Don’t even think we’d have t’talk if y’moved in, love. Y’seem t’know m’every thought.”

“I just know you’re thinking about the shower because you’re a boy. Not because you’re Harry.” He knelt to the floor behind her and wrapped his arms around her resting his head on the back of her shoulder. He was so much taller than her it was a slightly awkward position. “Maybe you should state your case or something,” she said finding a T-shirt suitable enough to go with a pair of his shorts.

He chuckled and rolled his eyes at her. “If s’what it takes,” he murmured against her back.

*

They ate lunch together in Harry’s office most days. People tended to bother her more because she was so adorably sweet. Harry was often closed off and very intimidating without meaning to be. At least to people who weren’t her. So, it made more sense to hide in his office.

They didn’t talk much during lunch. Not about anything world-changing or life-altering, anyway. Chatting about their days and their upcoming schedules was mainly it. Occasionally, they’d turn it into a working lunch because Harry would be stuck with something in his case, and he would ask her and of course she almost always had a solution.

“How come y’never need help from me?” He frowned. “M’always bothering you.”

“I’m just smarter than you,” she shrugged and smiled at him.

He rolled his eyes. “You’re smart, alright.”

“Harry you’re brilliant,” she said knowingly. “I just really like the finer details.” Harry watched her eat for a few moments thinking about how rude he had been to her for years and now she was eating in his office. Saying he was brilliant after the way he treated her. She enjoyed kissing him. They had slept in the same bed. It was surreal. “What are you thinking about there, baby?” She asked quietly. He looked at the food on his desk and smirked before looking back up at her.

“You love me?” That was one of the most shocking things of all.

She smiled. “Against all better judgment.”

“S’an understatement,” he muttered.

“You can’t have this complex, cupcake. You apologized profusely and I accepted it,” she shrugged. “I don’t want you dwelling on it.”

“You were so nice t’me...all those years.”

“You were pretty nice to me too...considering you hated me.”

Harry found that when he ‘hated’ her or when he loved her, a great deal of his time with her was spent rolling his eyes at her for one reason or another.  “I didn’t hate you.”

“You did not like me.”

He sighed. “Why did you like me?”

“Because you were smart and even though you didn’t like me you were still nice to me. And you always...” she sighed, and she went over to him at his desk. She pushed his food out of the way and leaned against the ledge of the desk. He slid his chair back to give her more space and his legs spread to either side of hers. He placed his hands on the outside of her hips to bring himself and the chair back toward her. “I always thought that even if you hated me, you...you would never let anything bad happen to me. You were always there. Every party that I felt uneasy about guys drinking around me. Every time it was late at night, and you still walked me home from the library even though I lived on the opposite side of campus...If I didn’t understand something in class, you never made me feel stupid. You just explained it to me. And you didn’t have to. You...” she smiled at him. “I think part of me hoped you would just start liking me more if I was around you enough...and I know I joke about it. But I don’t think you hated me. At least not...not like you could have.”

He smirked. His heart warmed with all the words she said. Naturally, she was right. He looked up at her and she swore she had never seen anything as beautiful as Harry Styles’ green eyes peering up at her through lashes that were simply sinful to have on any man, let alone him. “I love you.”

“See? It worked,” and as often as he did it, she adored the eye roll he gave her every single time.

*

“Hey,” Harry said entering Louis’ office. He handed him a paper to sign while he chatted on the phone. “Any chance y’heard about her case this morning?” He asked when Louis hung up.

“I heard she won, but I didn’t get the details yet,” Louis smirked. Harry was so proud. There was no reason for him to be, he had no doubt at all she would win. But he was anyway. He adored her and the pride was overwhelming. “Do you know if she made a plan for her interview yet? Have to say I was a bit blindsided by the reference call,” he told him while still scrolling through the messages on his phone and attempting, simultaneously to look through his email.

Harry blinked, his stomach dropped, and his blood felt cold. “What?” He asked.

Louis glanced up at his friend and pursed his lips. “Oh,” he muttered. “Perhaps, I said too much.”

“What are you talking about?” Harry felt the gnawing anger he used to feel around her biting at his stomach.

“It’s not my place, Harry. You’ll have to ask her,” he said.

Harry glared at his friend. He shouldn’t have. As much as Louis was his friend, he was also his boss. Not that Louis would fire him over something like this, but it was still rude. “Interview,” he repeated. Louis shifted his eyes from the computer, to Harry, and back. He nodded once.

Harry stormed out of Louis’ office slamming the door.

*

She knocked on his door. Exhausted. There was so much paperwork that needed to be done after her winning case. Winning felt like a chore sometimes and while she was grateful for the win, nothing sounded better than snuggling up to her boyfriend on the couch and watching a show for a few hours.

Harry silently opened the door. “Hi, cupcake,” she smiled sweetly.

He didn’t respond and waited for her to walk through. She frowned and entered quickly. He closed the door and walked by her as he headed to the kitchen, leaning against the island. “Congratulations are in order, I heard,” he mumbled pouring her a glass of wine.

“Uh...yeah, I guess,” the air was tense, and she didn’t know why. Taking the glass, she felt like Harry’s sour mood was her fault but what was worse was she didn’t know why. It was probably just a bad day on his part. They happened every so often. But now that she thought about it, it was weird he didn’t text her congratulations. He was typically the first one to say it, having some astute knowledge or maybe an inside person at the courthouse telling him all about her wins. She kicked her heels off, setting her glass on the island and then made her way to the bathroom to find some medicine.

Hearing the pills shaking out of the bottle made Harry pull out of his slump a bit. “Did y’skip lunch?” He asked, he was right outside the door it seemed. She didn’t want to answer him because she knew it would worsen his bad mood. “Take that as a yes,” he grumbled, and she heard him quietly pad away.

She thought long and hard about everything that could have happened today. Maybe it was something totally unrelated to her. But the tension was so thick it felt a bit suffocating. She splashed cold water on her face and headed back to the kitchen. “I’ll pay you a hundred if y’get it here in less than half an hour. Two hundred if s’less than fifteen minutes,” and then he hung up. He looked at her. “You can’t skip lunch.”

“I know,” she said. No use in arguing. He was right and he would win.

He leaned against the island again and she grabbed her drink before heading to the sofa this time. Harry stayed where he was until there was a knock on the door no more than ten minutes later. He paid the substantial sum he said he would and then brought the food to her. He placed her favorite burger and fries from her favorite place in front of her and then walked away again. “I have t’make a call,” he mumbled and headed to his room. She ate by herself along with the characters on TV. Only paying some vague attention while she tried to figure out what went wrong.

She heard Harry’s low voice for a long while, unable to make out any words but it did sound like a business call. But soon she had watched a whole forty-minute episode and her burger and fries were gone. She frowned, hearing nothing but silence from down the hall.

Cleaning up her stuff, she scribbled on a notepad that she needed to do laundry and she exited without so much as a kiss goodbye.

*

Harry’s stalemate with her was not going well. The agitation was so visible to everyone around him they literally turned in the opposite direction of him when he walked down the hall. They exited quickly from the room when he entered.

Since she was merely one office over, she could hear him yelling a lot while he was on the phone over the few days following her silent dinner alone in his apartment. Without knowing why he was mad, she didn’t know what to do. He wouldn’t talk to her. She tried. She sat in his office and ate a tense, silent lunch with him while he stared at her, green eyes piercing through her as if she was hiding something.

After one day of that, she refused to subject herself to it again. She still brought Harry lunch the following day, a half hour earlier than normal, while he was still on the phone so he couldn’t say anything to her. She was silent and had a right mind to throw it in his lap and ruin his suit but refrained from doing so, just barely. He kept his tone even as he watched her walk in, place it on his desk, and then leave without a word.

Harry didn’t make any attempt to apologize for his behavior at his apartment nor told her anything about what he was feeling. She felt like she did back in university when he saw her at parties. He would stare at her for a moment and then move on. It was making her crazy. He didn’t come to her apartment, didn’t text her, and didn’t tell her if she was still invited to his mom’s house for dinner on Sunday. He did ensure a coffee was on her desk each morning (even though she had already had one before arriving at work) and made sure she had an Uber waiting outside the building when it rained on Thursday.

Her heart was starting to feel heavy; like Harry was pulling away from her and she didn’t know why.

It was at the Friday staff meeting that it finally all came to a head.

Harry was grumbly and making snide remarks under his breath. Louis merely glared at him and rolled his eyes as he continued. She said nothing. Mainly because she never said anything in the meetings but more so today than ever because of the silent feud happening in her personal life that was rapidly spilling into her professional life. She could feel his gaze hit her every few moments and linger another few moments more because she was horribly attuned to him and loved when he looked at her.

Except right now.

It was nearing the end of the meeting when Harry all but snapped once more. He made a good point, but he was of course grumpy about it, making everyone in the conference room uncomfortable and angry. The man sitting two seats away from her looked at her until she got the sense someone was watching her. She looked up and caught his gaze. “Do us all a favor, love: blow him already. It’s making our lives miserable.”

Louis was out of his seat almost as soon as the crass words left her coworker's mouth. He physically pushed Harry back toward the window as he all but lunged for the man that said it. She looked at her notes blankly. Tears pricking the back of her eyes and she knew her face was turning red. It wasn’t a secret they were dating, but they didn’t make a big show of it. It was totally out of line to say that, and it made her so uncomfortable. She did her best to ignore the whole situation as best she could while listening to Harry shout insults and profanities while people started filing out the room.

“Jesus Christ, talk to her!” Louis snapped once everyone had left. He released Harry who spun and glared out the window. “That’s a direct order,” he shouted. Louis didn’t look at her as he slammed the conference room door shut. She kept staring at her notes. Everyone else was gone but she was terrified of moving. Afraid that if she made any movement, she would start crying from the anger she felt toward that stupid coworker or from how sad she was that Harry hadn’t told her he loved her in almost four days. Now that he said it so frequently, she was an addict for it. Years of thinking he hated her only for him to say he loved her did a number on her and mostly in a good way. But if this was how their arguments were going to be...she wasn’t sure she could do this.

“Why didn’t y’tell me you were applying for a new job?” He grumbled.

She looked up and saw his hurt expression in the reflection of the window. She bit the inside of her cheek. “Because I’m not,” she said simply, shaking her head.

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose. “Please don’t lie t’me. I’ll lose it. I swear.”

“Harry, number one, I've never lied to you. Ever. I'm insulted you would say that to me. Number two, I did not apply anywhere.”

He turned around and he looked so hurt. Like he was betrayed because yeah, she never lied to him ever. “Louis said y’had an interview.”

“Well, he shouldn’t have said anything to you because it’s not true,” she snapped. "And you should have asked if you were so upset."

He blinked in surprise because she never had an angry tone. Even when she deserved to have one nor when she needed to have one. “Louis got a call from a firm...a reference call.”

She closed her eyes. “I didn’t know they called Louis,” she hissed at him. He felt himself freeze up at her words. He hadn’t considered that she didn’t know. “Have you been ignoring me all week because of that? Something I didn’t know about?” She whispered angrily. "Something you didn't tell me about?"

Harry felt like an idiot immediately. He thought about the day he confessed his love for her. How the first words of his confession were I’m going to be a shitty boyfriend. He meant it. Because it was true. He was a shitty boyfriend... It was something about her. If he scratched even a speck of dust off the surface of why that was, he would come to the obvious conclusion that it was because it was her. She was too good, and he was too mean to her all those years.

He stood where he was, arm resting on the window as he leaned against it. He took a deep breath, his heart already aching with the feeling that he majorly fucked up and it was exactly the kind of thing she would leave him for. “Yes,” he murmured. There was no use denying it. No use in trying to apologize right now. It was dumb and he needed to own it.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” She snapped. He flinched, but felt he deserved that. “Jesus Christ Harry, I give you so much grace and time because this is totally different than our old relationship. I know we’ve always had a rocky beginning but...you have to talk to me!” She croaked.

The sound of her tears threatening to fall made him nauseous. “We can’t do this here,” he said turning to her finally to see her wiping her eyes quickly. He felt devastated that he made her cry. “Let’s go—”

His tone was so gentle now that he realized he messed up. It shouldn’t have come to this, but here they were. “I don’t want to go anywhere with you right now,” she all but snarled, gathered her belongings and left Harry alone in the conference room.

*

Flowers arrived every hour after she got home. After the fourth hour, the delivery man apologized at her irritated expression. She glared at the pretty bouquet, and how it was softening her angry heart.

She texted him. You can send me a whole botanical garden. I’m not speaking to you. See how you like it. It was petty and childish. She was a grown woman, and it was not the appropriate thing to say but he didn’t respond. Naturally.

Her phone rang and she was surprised to see Gemma’s name lighting up her screen. “Hello?” she asked tentatively.

“What did he do?” Gemma asked.

“Your brother is a hot-tempered idiot,” she stated.

“I tried to warn you.” She didn’t say anything in response. Gemma sighed. “Look, I don’t know what he did, but I promise you, he did it because he loves you. It doesn’t make it right and you deserve to silent treatment him until the end of time. I have no right to make this request and I know you’ll probably hate me just for saying it, but please don’t leave him. He’s so happy with you. He knows he messed up and he’s gonna give you space now, but...you said it. He’s an idiot.”

“I’m not gonna leave him,” she rolled her eyes.

 Gemma’s relief was probably as palpable as Harry’s would have been. “Oh, thank God. That was more for me than for him. I won’t even tell him you said that. Let him sweat it.”

She smirked despite herself. “I was looking forward to dinner,” she admitted.

“You should still come, I’ll have Mum uninvite him and we can trash-talk him the whole time,” Gemma suggested.

She shook her head. “I’ll call him tomorrow. Hopefully he won’t break up with me.”

“Why would he break up with you?”

“Because your brother is an idiot. He would say he’s doing it for my benefit. I bet it will take some convincing.”

Gemma was quiet. “That does sound like him. Fuck. I’ll...I’ll talk to him.”

*

Can I call you? She texted Louis after the fifth bouquet arrived. I know it’s the weekend...I know it's super late...on a Friday...I know it’s...I’m sorry.

Her phone rang a moment later and she felt relief. “Hey love,” Louis said softly.

“Tell me what happened with the reference call.” She listened to his story, feeling an overwhelming amount of empathy for Harry. That had to have blindsided him. “Why didn’t you ask me?” She asked Louis.

“I had every intention of asking you, but he just happened to come to the office first. I never even thought you hadn’t told him, love. I’m so sorry.”

“I wasn’t hiding it. There just wasn’t anything to tell. I never even applied. They saw my argument in court one day, they saw me beat them, and they wanted me. Just trying to recruit me and whatnot. Probably to scare you, I don’t know...I didn’t tell Harry because it didn’t...it’s nothing. I like where I am,” she explained. “I didn’t know they would call you. I’m sorry. That must have been hard for you as well.”

Louis chuckled. “Don’t worry love. Course they want you. Only the worst firm in the world wouldn’t. I love having you with us, darling. So, I’m glad.”

“Thank you. Sorry for the call.”

“Don’t apologize. Harry’s my friend too. Which means you’re my friend. Consider this a friend call.”

“Well thank you.”

“Have a good weekend, love. Call if you need anything.”

*

Harry gave her a key almost immediately after they started dating. She tried not to use it—only to surprise him once after a particularly hard day and she made his favorite dish for dinner. But most of the time, she was always with him.

But now, she was here because after tossing and turning for hours she could not fall asleep. Feeling like she couldn’t wait until morning, she got up and ready to leave for Harry’s place. After tripping over five more bouquets and vases outside her door, she rolled her eyes. She set them inside the doorway and hurried down to the street.

She trekked across town in an Uber; just her purse on her shoulder, oversized t-shirt, and a pair of leggings. She thought slippers might be too much, so she settled for a pair of comfy slipper-looking loafers. Within fifteen minutes she was at his door.

Quietly, she unlocked his apartment as it was nearing two thirty in the morning. She heard music playing from his room and she slipped her shoes off, padded silently down the hall. He was sound asleep. The light from his side table created a pretty glow over him and his smooth, tanned skin. The music was a playlist she made that she listened to fall asleep every so often. This one contained some of her favorite songs of the month. Her heart softened. He was holding his phone clutched in his hand and she was grateful he was a heavy sleeper as she pulled it from his grip. A picture of herself illuminated the screen and her heart weakened more. Harry was lightly snoring as she covered him with the blanket he had tossed at the end of the bed. One of his socks was half off his foot but she left it there because she thought it was pretty cute.

She clicked the light off and slipped into bed beneath the covers that he was lying on top of. She turned toward his body; his head was facing the other way, but she didn’t care. She gently laid her arm over his waist and finally felt tired enough to fall asleep peacefully.

*

She woke up to his beautiful green eyes staring at her. They were red around the corners—like he had cried, and the thought sent a shot of sadness through her like nothing she had ever felt before. “Creepy,” she mumbled instead and rubbed her eye for a moment. His gaze didn’t move.

He was under the covers now, his arm draped over her waist. “When did y’get here?” He asked ignoring her benign insult. He couldn’t do anything but look at her.

“Before three,” she said softly.

He winced. “Please don’t take Ubers that late,” he mumbled, sighing deeply. He bit his lip. “Should probably tell them t’stop with the flowers if you’re here; there will be six more out there.”

She couldn’t help the softening of her heart. “Thank you.”

He shook his head. “Please don’t thank me.”

She smiled and cupped his face between her hands. He pulled her by the waist, so her body was closer to him. “Harry,” she whispered. “You can’t give me the silent treatment.”

“I know,” he nodded quickly. “M’so sorry, kitten. Really.”

“I know,” she repeated him.

He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face pulling at his lower lip with two fingers. He looked exasperated. “I don’t know why I make it s’hard with you,” he muttered.

“I think it’s because you love me,” she whispered with a smirk on her face.

He closed his eyes. “Someone who loves you wouldn’t...not speak t’you. Not even for a second,” he told her. She put a hand on his face and waited until he opened his eyes.

“The flowers were a good start,” she whispered.

He smirked despite himself. “A start?”

She nodded a grin, painting her lips so beautifully, Harry thought his heart would stop. “You’ll think of something.”

He had this way of looking at her apologetically through his gorgeous eyelashes that framed his equally gorgeous green eyes. The most beautiful puppy dog eyes. “I don’t want y’to forgive me yet,” he said softly.

“I’m not,” she promised. But she would admit was hard not to when he looked so beautiful and full of remorse. “But I love you too much to be away from you.”

He sighed. “Somehow you’re infuriating,” he grumbled.

“Why don’t you ask me your questions?” She asked.

He shook his head against her hand. “No. S’not my business. You can make your own decisions. And they have nothing t’do with me.”

She shook her head as he spoke. “You have everything to do with my big decisions. You’re part of my life, Harry. But I would tell you if there was a big decision to make.”

He was silent for a minute. Just stared at her.  She drew a little circle with her index finger on his cheek while he clearly thought something difficult. “Angel,” he whispered. She frowned. She hated that tone in his voice. “I don’t want to hurt you. I forget your birthday, I give you the silent treatment, I don’ listen—”

She sighed. “If you break up with me, I’ll scream like a crazy person and I’ll put up the biggest fight you’ve ever seen,” she promised.

He smiled. “You are the most beautiful, wonderful person I’ve ever known. You are also the dumbest.”

“Smartest,” she said smugly. Pointedly. “I didn’t tell you because I’m not going anywhere. They wanted me.”

“Of course, they did,” he whispered as she spoke.

She smiled, unable to move her eyes from his. “I would never make a decision like that without your input,” she promised.

“You could do anything without my input.”

She ignored him. “We have always been a team. A weird one,” she assented, and he chuckled. “But a team.”

Harry sighed and rubbed his face again. “S’jus’...when Louis asked...it jus’ made sense. Of course, you would leave,” he muttered. “You’d be away from him, and it would create some space between us. I gotta imagine m’a bit suffocating at times. Especially in the office next t’you? I don’t know, kitten...I jus’ thought you—”

“Can you just ask me next time?” She interrupted.

He nodded vigorously. “Yes,” he promised. “God kitten, you’re gonna be s’sick of me when m’upset.”

She shook her head. “Impossible. I’m sorry I didn’t try and argue more...I guess part of me is still a bit...” she sighed. “A lot of rewiring to do,” she bit the inside of her lip. “I forget that you want to hear my thoughts now,” she smiled.

He rolled his eyes. “I could listen to you talk all day.”

“Don’t ask for what you can’t handle, cupcake.”

“Would you jus’ kiss me already, kitten?” He sighed with yet another eye roll.

She shook her head. “Oh no. No way. My morning breath is so bad,” she said turning her head from him and then started to wiggle out of the bed. Harry grabbed her gently, tickling her as she protested, and quickly pinned her below him. Her laughter subsided as he smiled, hovering over her. Admiring how beautiful she looked like that, his leg pressed firmly between her thighs, her hands pinned next to her head beneath his. Her cheeks pinked at their position and Harry smiled impishly.

“There isn’t a world,” he bent down and kissed her collarbone, “in which,” her neck, “I won’t,” her cheek, “want t’kiss you,” he pressed his lips between hers. “You sweet, gorgeous girl,” he pressed several more kisses on her lips.

She smiled snd shook her head. “Tell that to 16-year-old, Harry,” she said.

“M’gonna kill you,” he promised.

“Can I forgive you now?”

He shook his head. “Not for at least a week. And I should buy you lunch every day and sleep on the couch.”

“Why would we sleep on the couch?” She asked curiously.

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “God, I love you.”

“I love you, too. Now kiss me again.”

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[call-sign-shark]

Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary:  This is when things seem to get better with the Shelby family —at least with Polly— that a drunk client crosses the line with you at the Garrison. Haunted by his past insecurities and his burning jealousy, Arthur snaps. And he snaps very bad. For the first time since you've met, he reveals the beast he hides inside... And Tommy obviously uses the incident to blame you.

Words: 5k

TW: Angst, Obsessive behavior, extreme jealousy, graphic depiction of violence, murder, lot of blood, canonical violence, witch trial, allusions to smut, allusions to blood!kink, Arthur being an emotional and slightly psychotic mess

Notes:

✞ I don't condone Arthur's behavior. Also, keep in mind that Heaven is certainly a bit twisted too.

✞ Heaven is OP's original character but written with the use of « you » (Moodboard here).

PREVIOUS CHAPTER || Masterlist || NEXT

The sound of your heels hammering the cold pavement of Small Heath echoed in the nocturnal streets as you walked to the Garrison. Even though the expansion of the Shelby Company led the family’s interests away from the pub, they still hold the place dear to their hearts and sometimes they liked gathering there for old times' sake. Especially Arthur. Hence, rather than staying at home, reading in front of the fireplace, and dwelling on Polly’s odd behavior at the last family gathering, you decided to occupy your buzzing mind by surprising Arthur at the pub. A raven flew above your head and cawed, its presence stirring interest in you for he had followed you from the moment you had left your house. As you walked to the Garrison, you took a quick glance at the black bird’s silhouette, which was perched on a roof a few houses away. 

"Silly boy, want to tell me something?" You told to it, amused. The animal, dressed with dark feathers, replied with another caw. You chuckled and kept walking.

The white dress and fur coat you were wearing contrasted so well with the dull night that the few people you passed were not sure what they had just seen. Indeed, the moon's glow reflected its light on your porcelain skin, adorning your frail body with an almost supernatural aura. That was why some of them thought they had caught sight of an angel, just like Arthur did the first time you and he met.

When the dark wooden door of the Garrison opened, its noise overcoming the laughter, chatting, and sounds of glasses clinking against each other, a soft wave of warmth caressed your cold face. You had barely stepped inside when people almost all turned around, many pairs of eyes weighing on you. Curious and dumbstruck gazes looked at you, wondering what such a holy-looking creature was doing here — but you did not really care. Your petrifying aquamarine iris swept the room to become familiar with the place before you headed to the counter behind which you saw Arthur’s tall frame. The man was back to you, talking with his little boss-brother Thomas. Awesome, you thought, little King Shelby is here. Sarcasm filled your head at the mere sight of him. To be true, you were well aware that Thomas was always doing his best to avoid you, but it did not annoy you. Quite the contrary, you were more than satisfied with never seeing him — you still did not come to terms with him trying to strangle you after all. Nevertheless, you leaned over the counter, arms resting on its varnished wooden surface, and parted your juicy lips to speak. 

“Good evening, Mister Shelby. Care to serve me a drink?” 

Arthur’s whole being shivered with delight as soon as he recognized the enchanting and oh-so-peculiar tone of your voice — the same voice that had led him to you one bleak and sleepless night. Shaken to the core by your presence, he forgot about Tommy the moment you had started to speak and turned around to face you, the corner of his lips stretching in a genuine and blissed smile. Each time his steel blue eyes fell on you, it was as if God's grace struck him — even though you were living together. The thrills you gave him never left.

“Good evening, love. What is such a delicious little Angel like you doing here? It’s a bad town for such a pretty face ye know.” He almost cooed with his hoarse voice, his hands on the bar and his eyes sparkling with a teasing gleam.

“Fell from the sky and got lost in these streets, so I just followed the light.” Your fingers grazed the back of his hand and went up its skin, leaving pleasant tingles in their trail, until they reached one of the many rings he was wearing. The simple gesture, barely touching him, lit up a blazing fire in his soul. Thomas looked at Arthur and quickly understood that no matter what he would say or do, he held no power over his older brother anymore, “Evening, Tommy.” You said, finally acknowledging him.

“Thomas. It’s Thomas.” He retorted with a voice as cold as an arctic blizzard that could freeze Hell’s inferno itself. He stubbed out his cigarette in the nearest ashtray and left without any single word, his shadow disappearing in the streets as he left the Garrison, for your sole presence seemed to bother him. Well, at least his opinion about you did not change. However, the lack of peculiar reaction from him reassured you: Polly had not told him what happened to the tea party yet.

“Don’t mind him eh,” 

You did not.

“I should probably give you one hell of a strong drink if you fell from Eden… Miss?”

“Heaven Lavey.” You winked, enjoying his silly way of hitting on you as if it was the first time you met, “A glass of red wine would do the trick… And the barman’s heart.” Your teasing grin widened, unveiling perfect white teeth. Arthur let out a long exhale through his nostrils, enraptured by your whole being. From your smile to your bratty pout, you got him on his knees. Each time he would dive his eyes into yours, his heart would quicken in his chest and dopamine would rush through his veins — who would want to keep taking drugs after tasting you? Not even himself. He was already high enough by your presence in his life and God knew he never wanted to sober up from you.

“As you wish.” He leaned over the counter to lay a tender kiss on your forehead. The way his mustache gently tickled your skin made you chuckle. How sweet he was, not afraid to lavish you with sweetness even in front of other people. Then, he gathered all his strength to pull away from you and take care of your order — which was nearly impossible to do, for you were both attracted to each other like two powerful magnets. But still, he did and then poured the finest red wine the Garrison had in a glass before putting it in front of you. Then, he leaned a second time over the counter to bring his face close to yours again, “as for my heart,” he paused, his eyes abandoning yours to drop on your full lips he watched with utmost desire, “You already snatched it, angel.” 

“You’re incorrigible, Arthur Shelby.” You could not help but laugh when you noticed that, as you spoke, his focus was still fiercely anchored to your lips. The urge he had to devour them was almost palpable, electrifying the air around him. Yet, you resisted the need to kiss him, rather bringing your small hands to his neck to fix his bow tie with indescribable tenderness. The pair of eyes that were watching you since your arrival could not believe that you had managed to tame the brutal Arthur Shelby — how he behaved with you was so different from the way he was with the others it almost scared them, “I hope you like this little surprise.”

“You can’t imagine how much I do.” He purred, grabbing your hands and putting them on his cheeks. How he loved feeling your cold skin against his. You cupped his face, looking right into his fair eyes with a never-ending love, and he instantly melted. His eyelids half-closed, for you had brought peace to his scorching soul again, “Lemme clean a few things and we’ll go back home eh.”

“Take your time. Je t’attends mon amour — I’ll wait for you my love —“

“Yer comfy here?”

“Arthur,” Your eyes rolled, amused.

“Want a cushion to sit on? Want to wait in a quieter room?” 

“That’s okay.”

“Mmm’kay” 

You freed his face from your sweet grip, leaving him lingering for more. When he reopened his eyes he could not hold the little growl that escaped his lips for you had not kissed him. He blinked several times, trying to chase away the charm you had cast on him with your sole presence, and reluctantly left you. Stars still danced in front of his eyes because of your intoxicating beauty — so hypnotizing he struggled to come back to what he was doing before.

Waiting did not bother you. In fact, you preferred to wait for hours here, in the comforting warmth of the pub and its hullabaloo, rather than being left alone with your thoughts in the quietness of your house. Sipping on your red wine, you were minding your own business when a man sat next to you, his body collapsing on the stool as if walking had been quite a struggle for him. Which was probably the case considering he was drunk. Only a few people were still at the Garrison, the others went home stumbling or dragged away by a fellow friend. The suffocating smell of whiskey and sweat that was emanating from the newcomer made you wrinkled your nose.

“Hey doll, all alone by yourself? ”  The man said, bringing the whiskey glass to his chapped lips to gulp what was left in it. You glanced at him and simply nodded, not really wanting to do any kind of conversation, “Your glass is almost empty. Lemme buy you another one.” 

“I really appreciate it but that’s fine.” You answered with a polite smile — but even when doing the bare minimum your angelic traits never failed to captivate your audience. The man noticed your strong accent and saw the opportunity to carry on with the conversation.

“You come from France eh? I fought in France! Bloody hell, still got the mud of this country under my nails!” 

Maybe he talked a little bit too loud, or maybe Arthur’s senses were as sharp as a wolf’s, but the fact remains he immediately raised his eyes from what he was doing to watch over you. His steel blue iris shifted their attention from you only to cast their furious fire on the drunk man that was talking to you. His woman.

“You know, I always thought it was kind of sad that all the people here only link France with the war. This is a beautiful country.” You answered, taking another sip of red wine. Somehow, you allowed yourself to talk with the man. At least time would probably fly faster that way.

“If France’s as beautiful as ya, I’ll rush back to it by tomorrow, doll. The name’s Jim.”

You silently replied to him with a light smile, gently shaking your head at the fella’s attempt to compliment you.

You smiled at Jim — And Arthur broke the glass he was holding in his hand. It had been crushed by the pressure with which he had tightened his grip around it until it shattered into bits. Sharp pieces of glass had pierced Arthur’s flesh, blood dripping from his palm, but the tormenting anger that was building within him was so overwhelming he did not even feel the pain. As seconds passed, his face contorted with rage and his eyes darkened with jealousy.  You. Smiled. At. Him.

That was definitely not okay — the man did not deserve your blissful smile. 

Deafened by the sound of his own heart pounding in his tight chest, Arthur swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat in a vain attempt to keep control. To not let his anger issue show. The rational part of his mind was telling him to keep calm, for he knew you loved him and only him. You had told him plenty of times, after all. And he trusted you, really. But the other part, led by his insecurities and his mental instability, whispered foul insinuations to his ear.

Why would she stay with such a criminal like you? You’re sick. You’re old. You’re broken — and no one loves broken men. 

You’re stupid, far less clever and charming than Tommy. HE is a real man. 

You either scare or repel women. Linda told you. You don’t deserve Heaven. 

Useless. So useless… Broken. Crazy, you’re fucking crazy. She’ll see what you are. A monster. Monster. Monster. 

Arthur’s jaw clenched as his mind spiraled into a never-ending maze of whipping thoughts and insufferable feelings. Self-loathing was becoming too much to bear — so messy it had started to drown him. He felt his sanity slowly slipping through the cracks of his skull and the only thing he could to do make it stop was to break things. And by things he meant Jim. 

“Listen, Jim. I think you should go back home and rest. This is the whiskey talking.” You stated.

“Only if you come home with me, doll.” He ought to say, his grin widening. 

Breathless with rage, Arthur felt the heat pooling in his face. A few drops of sweat beaded on his forehead as he shook his wounded hand to clear his flesh from the shards of glass.

“You really should —“

“Come home with me and I’ll make you beg.” He cut off before you had time to turn his invitation down , bringing his hand on one of your thighs to strengthen his point.

Destructive anger flowed through his veins like lava,  exploding at the moment the man laid a finger upon you. Agile like a wild cat, Arthur jumped over the counter and rushed toward you, his shoulders tensed and his arms swinging as he walked.  Earth shook under his feet, opening the gates of Hell more and more at each of his steps. 

“AL-FUCKING-RIGHT THEN,” He blurted out, standing fiercely behind Jim. Arthur’s thundering voice almost made him jump — and it was enough for him to take his hand off your thigh and turned around to meet the Devil’s eyes. You froze on your stool, astounded by your man’s anger.

His face distorted with both fear and confusion at the sight of Arthur Shelby, green with jealousy and maddened with fury, “What the fookin hell did ya say, pal? WHAT THE FOOK DID YOU SAY TO ME WOMAN?” He roared, blue eyes shining with a threatening glow. At this point, Arthur was almost choking with rage. 

“Oh my God Arthur, I did not know she was your woman. I’m sorry! I really did not —“ Jim could not finish his sentence for Arthur had grabbed him by the neck and dragged him away from you in front of the few last clients' terrified looks.

“You TOUCHED her! You bloody touched her, ME ANGEL. ME HEAVEN. I can’t fucking believe it,” He spat, his words coated with bitter venom. Swirling in the chaotic vortex of his own fury, he did not hear the man’s bargains. And somehow, he did not care. There was nothing he could say to stop him anymore. Jim tried to utter another apology.

He had barely opened his mouth when Arthur’s fist crushed his nose with such a violent blow the sound of broken bones echoed through the Garrison. The man, almost knocked out by the uppercut, crashed on the wooden floor, a jet of blood gushing from his face, “Oi! Thought you fought in France. Come on, bastard! Fight me!” He snarled, teeth bared like a wild animal.

He’s going to kill him. That was what crossed your mind when you came back to your senses, overcoming the shock of seeing Arthur in such a frenzy state. You got up from your stool, “Arthur… Stop it please.” You called him, trying to be as soft as possible not to fan the flames of his anger. 

“I AM NOT GONNA STOP!” He barked, looking at you.

He looked at you 

and you saw the Hell in his eyes.

“Heard how he dared to talk to ye? Ah, you wanted to make me angel beg eh?” Arthur kneeled over the whimpering man, almost straddling his quivering body, to grab him by the collar of his coat, “Yeah that’s what you said right. But trust me, you sonofabitch, I’m the one who’ll make you beg!” He yelled, sending another powerful blast to the man’s face with his fists as sole weapons, adorned with thick silver rings. “BEG, YOU BASTARD!”

“P-please—“

Another disgusting sound of torn flesh and cracking skull filled the room. “By order —“ A third punch. Breaking teeth. Jim spat three of them at your feet. “Of the —“  Fourth. Fifth. His knuckles bruised and split under the strength of his blows but Arthur could not care less. All he wanted was to reduce Jim’s face to an unidentifiable slop of flesh.  “Peaky —“  Dislocated jaw hanging loosely. The horrible sight was accompanied by the cacophony of bloody gurgles. “Fookin — “ Jim had lost count of the punches that rained down on him. All he knew was that his body was giving up. At one point Arthur Shelby had stopped beating him, only to unstrapped the combat knife he kept in his holster, “BLINDERS!” 

“ARTHUR NO!!!”  Running to the scene and falling on your knees, you managed to grab his hands and keep him from stabbing the drunk man, “Don’t do that, please I need you. Please, please stop it.” 

Please.

Your voice, like a light piercing the thick veil of his darkness, snatched him from his murderous craze. Waking up by the smell of blood mixed with your sweet spring-like perfume, Arthur stopped in the midst of what he was doing and realized he was holding a knife above his head, ready to plunge it into a man’s chest. He took a look at you, noticing the shocked expression on your holy face, and all his anger disappeared into a void. His fingers loosened around the knife, which fell on the wooden floor with a metallic noise, “please Arthur, calm down… Call down, Mon amour.” You whispered, begging him with your eyes. Silence fell on the Garrison, as well as in his mind. The maddening voices had stopped and the buzzing hatred had vanished. Arthur left the unconscious man and collapsed in your arms, panting and shaking. Adrenaline made you shiver too, but you gently hugged his frame, one hand stroking his hair, “That’s okay… I’m here …”  You repeated just like a healing chant as a few men grabbed the severely injured victim and took him away from the pub.

“I’m … I’m sorry— Heaven, oh my god —“ Arthur stuttered, slowly realizing what he just did. He buried his face in your breasts, for comfort as well as to hide the blood that had splattered on him. He barely dared to hug your frail body for fear of breaking you.  Sometimes, he swore he had hell in his hands and he did not want to bring you down in the flames with him. 

“Shhhh… Breathe in. Breathe out. You can do it.”  You said with a soothing tone. With divine softness, you ran your fingers through his hair, not minding the blood he smeared on your clothes and bosom, “that’s okay, you’re a good boy..” But as you were trying to chase away your man’s demons, a far too familiar voice echoed in the room.

“What the fuck is this mess?!” Thomas Shelby exclaimed for he had just entered the Garrison, John by his side. His freezing blue eyes looked at you from above.  The king was here and he hated what he saw.

“John, bring Arthur home. Everyone OUT.” 

This was all it took to empty the Garrison from its remaining clients. When John gently put his hand on his older brother’s shoulder, Arthur’s embrace tightened around your tiny silhouette for he did not want to leave you.  “No,” he managed to beg between two heartbreaking sobs. His face still hidden, not daring to look at you for fear of seeing disgust and anger in your eyes, Arthur refused to let you go. Somehow, he was convinced you would not go back home — why would you after what you had just witnessed? “Don’t take me away from her!”  He said, a bit more fiercely, which resulted in John taking a few steps back and looking at you, silently begging you to help him. In the midst of the chaos, only you could bring him back to his senses. A brief sigh escaped from your lips before you gently forced Arthur to look at you.

“Listen, chéri. I need you to go back home and calm down. I’ll be very quick.” 

“No, no, you won’t come back.” 

“ I’ll do,” You wiped away his tears with your thumbs, accidentally smearing more blood on his face doing so, “and when I do, I’ll take care of you alright? I’ll keep you warm and loved.” Punctuating your sentence with affection, you slicked his hair back with a frail but oh-so-loving grin on your face. He finally accepted.

When he left alongside John, your smile vanished and you got up from the floor, legs still slightly shaking. Thomas was still standing in the middle of the pub, towering you with all his height, and looking at you with his cold eyes. His chilling stare followed your movements as you walked to the bar and poured yourself another glass of wine.

“I told you to keep a low profile,” He began. Thomas Shelby’s voice was dressed in an apparent quiet, but something in his tone was threatening — and even though he did not display any sign of emotion, you knew his blood was boiling.

“Oh come on Thomas, all I wanted was to make a surprise to Arthur.” You took a mouthful of wine — the much-needed alcohol calming your anxiety.

Thomas closed his eyes for a few seconds and pinched the bridge of his nose to stop his dawning headache, “ A surprise… I hope you like the result then,” He retorted, before shifting his eyes back to you,

“Listen, I know you don’t like me but — ” 

“He nearly killed someone for you. What the fuck are you doing to my brother, eh?” Tommy slightly tilted his head to the side, a spark of resentment lightening up his icy iris. You remained silent, still not believing Thomas was really blaming you for Arthur’s outburst. Of course, you had not reacted immediately, but the shock had petrified you for a few long minutes — but was it your fault if he had beaten the man? Certainly not. At this point, Tommy was just lashing out at you for all the issues his family was facing. It was far easier than admitting his own flaws and responsibility. Visibly infuriated by your silence,  Tommy walked to you and stopped only a few inches from you, trapping your body between the counter and his own strong frame. He was close — so close your breasts were almost pressed against his chest, “Look me in the eyes when I fucking talk to you, Heaven.” He spat your name with disgust, as if he had just bitten into an apple filled with maggots.

“Get my pretty name out of your mouth,” You looked dagger at him, anger rushing through your veins at such an unwanted proximity. Yet you did not flicker.

“You fucking white Devil,” He hissed through his teeth, his low voice still calm in spite of his blooming hatred, “Are you happy to spread chaos in our life? What do you want from us ey?” He leaned over you, bringing his face closer to yours. With his brows slightly furrowed, Tommy’s sky blue eyes were probing yours, trying to understand the mystery they hid behind their aquamarine wonders, ”What do you want from me?! After Arthur is this me you want to control??” He growled. Your heart raced in your chest — shivers ran down your spine, and goosebumps appeared on your porcelain skin, for his unpredictable behavior was starting to worry you.

“I don’t want anything from you Thomas Shelby. Whether you like it or not I’m being honest with your brother. You know Arthur’s emotional, you can’t blame me for that.  You take away his meds, turn him into a killer, and now you’re surprised he snaps?? How. Fucking. Unbelievable! Do you know what I think? Well, I think you need me to be your scapegoat . You need to blame me for your sins. For everyone’s sins.”

“Fucking burn in hell,” He spat again but could not find something to retort properly. It seemed like the skies gave you the gift of shutting Thomas Shelby's mouth. Instead, one of his hands grabbed you by the neck and forced your face to get closer to his. His breath fanned over your skin, as burning as a dragon’s fire.

“Be careful with the Rule of Three, Thomas. For each spell you cast always returns to you three times stronger.”  You whispered. Then you gathered all your remaining strength to push him away from you, his musky and peculiar perfume almost making your head spin.  Not wanting to stay here any longer — and also longing for a hot shower to wash away the blood from your skin —, you headed to the Garrison’s door. Obviously, Tommy’s eyes followed you but he did not say anything, muted by his resentment. Admittedly, he was torn between the urge to bounce on you and the desire to see you leave. You were about to disappear, the cold breeze of the night jumping at your face and rushing into the pub as you opened the wooden door. But your instincts kicked in. After a few seconds of hesitation, you finally decided to warn little king Shelby.

“By the way..." You looked at Thomas from above your shoulder.

"You should keep an eye on Charles. You really should.” 

He froze. Confused and infuriated.

You left. Hurt and bitter.

When you came back home, you crossed your reflection in the corridor’s mirror.  Your body refused to work anymore and forced you to stop in front of it. Facing your own person was something you hated. With trembling fingers, you brushed the blood stain Arthur had left on one of your cheeks.

Mom! Mom, no!!

I’ll fucking kill you all!!

You clenched your jaw at the memory it triggered, but still, you kept looking at your tainted ivory skin as if you were slowly learning to come to terms with what you did and what you were. Your fingers trailed down your throat until they grazed the top of your bosom, where the blood had accumulated the most. Another painful memory assaulted your mind, replaying the aching, almost inhuman screams of your little sister when her flesh had been eaten alive by the hungry tongues of the pyre’s flames.

Only God knew how you managed to keep your mind from spiraling into the darkest pits of your trauma, but you did — maybe that was because Arthur needed you. That protective instinct was stronger than your own pain. That was why you tricked your body into moving away from the mirror and went upstairs to take a hot shower before joining your man in bed. John had probably managed to convince him to sleep. Or his body had collapsed on the mattress, exhausted by the energy poured in his latest outburst.

As the running water of the shower was filling the bathroom with its regular and soothing noise, you slowly let your white dress slip along your body until it fell on the floor, as well as your lace panties. You stepped over the pile of clothes and, without waiting any longer, you hopped under the shower and welcomed its warm water with utter joy. A sigh of relief escaped from your lips as you tilted your head back, water hugging your body and raining down on your long white mane that cascaded down your lower back. You almost managed to empty your mind when, suddenly, one gentle calloused hand brushed your hip. Jumping in surprise, you turn around and saw that Arthur had joined you under the shower. His hands, arms, and face were still splattered with half-dried blood he had not cleaned. To be true, he had been too busy curling up on the bedroom floor, panicking about at the idea of you leaving him after what you had witnessed.

“You’re here…” His gravel voice said, water falling on his naked body whose millions of freckles drew magnificent constellations on his skin.

“Told you I’d come back.”  

He smiled, softly. His steel blue had stopped avoiding you and was now firmly anchored in yours.

 He took a step toward you.

You stepped back in response until your bare body met the cold shower wall.

Your pulse quickened, fascinated by the way Arthur looked. He had something in his eyes — a mix of limerence and pure madness who, combined with the crimson stains on his face, made your legs weak. His breath was slow but yours soon became erratic, even though he had barely touched you yet. 

“You ain’t scared, love? Please, tell me you ain’t scared of your Arthur…” He said, his lower lip trembling as his body perfectly interlocked with yours. A small growl escaped from his throat at the intoxicating sensation of yours curves pressed against his skin. But despite his inextinguible desire, he still looked at you with hesitation and genuine guilt — his puppy eyes would surely break anyone’s heart.

“No, I’m not scared,” You replied, not shifting your gaze from him. The corner of your juicy and honey lips stretched in a small grin, “You…” You paused, bringing one hand to his stained cheek, “you look pretty with blood all over your face.”  

Arthur’s eyes lightened with both surprise and ravaging desire, for you had witnessed the beast’s violence but still thought he was attractive. A twisted wave of arousal shook you to the core when he bared his teeth in a vaguely dangerous but oh-so-seductive smirk.

“Oh bloody hell, angel…” Not finishing his sentence, his lips captured yours in a fury kiss for he could not wait any longer. The need to possess you, to feel you, was too devastatingly strong to resist. At first, his lustful kiss surprised you, and even though you burnt for him l, a part of you felt it was wrong to feel this kind of twisted attraction. Last thing Arthur needed was someone encouraging his violence — but your brain soon shut down at the thought he did it for you. Only you. Your arms locked up around his neck to deepen the waltz of your tongues, sending fireworks in your loins. It was far than enough to turn Arthur on who, all of sudden, lifted you from the ground as if you weighted nothing.

You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, already suffocating with the hungry way he devoured your mouth and the shower’s steam accumulating around you.

As water rained down on your two intertwined bodies, it washed away the blood from your skins. The tainted liquid disappeared down the drain, leaving pale red stains on the bathtub's immaculate marble. 

You kissed him harder. Rougher. Until his flesh dived into yours in an explosion of pleasure and shooting stars.

For you had seen the Hell in his eyes, and loved it anyway. 

Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

Each chapter of this series can be read as stand-alones but I advise you to read everything if you want a better understanding of details.

Tagging those who might be interested: @areyenotfondofmelobster @meowtastick @babayaga67 @sired-to-hybrid @shelbyssins @kxnnxyasdfg @adaydreamaway08

#Arthur shelby #Peaky blinders imagine #Arthur shelby x reader #Peaky blinders x reader #Tommy shelby fanfic #Arthur shelby x oc #Arthur shelby x ofc #peaky blinders #Tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #Peaky blinder fanfic #Heaven Shelby #John Shelby #Michael Gray #John Shelby x reader #Polly Gray #Arthur shelby imagine #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders x oc #Paul Anderson #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #Alfie Solomon’s

[abrcmswrld]

The Night in Question

Edward Nashton x Coworker!Reader

━━━━━

Word Count: 5,271

Warnings: smut (18+ only MDNI), stalking, murder/violence, unprotected sex, angst and fluff and smut, edward’s inner thoughts and grievances

Summary: As the two of you grow closer, Edward grapples with the choices he’s made and his wants.

Authors Note: This is essentially just Edward’s point of view of the events that took place in Talk To Strangers. However there’s more scenes in this that weren’t in TTS so don’t worry it’s not a total retelling. I worked on this all of spring break,, I hope you all enjoy!

Ao3 Link

He can remember the first time your eyes met his. It's a distinct moment in his brain. He had been warned of the newcomer that would be entering the building in the coming days, but he didn't expect it to affect him much. Different department, not his problem. 

And you were significantly more cheerful than he expected. He had expected another temp, desperate for money, but hating the job. But when you made your way to his desk and held out your hand with a bright smile on your face, he could see the motivation on your face. 

He figures this will fizzle out. It did for him. Gone were the years that brought him hope for a better life and possibly more opportunities. But this was it. A lifeless job, a lonely apartment, and an emptiness he can't escape. 

He never held disdain towards you. He silently hopes that you know that. He simply felt nothing towards you for that first little while. Although, he simply felt nothing towards anyone. But the time would come when that little spark in his chest would grow.

━━━━

So when you approach his desk to call out his disregard, it catches him off guard. He thought for sure you had seen him just as all the others had. A pushover. A nobody. Not worth getting to know. But here you were, practically begging for his attention. And yes, he was willing to give it. 

"I think you think you're smarter than everyone else here." He doesn't flinch at the hand you plant on his desk. Only sighs and tries to fight back a smile, because you're right. He does think he's smarter than the people who work there. Zach is a prick and an idiot. The boss doesn't give a shit about any of the people working here. Nobody sees the world the way that he does. 

"I do. Is that so bad?"

"It makes you an asshole."

There it was. The true feelings coming out. He had to give it to you for being honest. Most hide their disdainful nature behind a mocking tone. But you were upfront with him. It's the first time he's seen you this honest and outspoken. And he likes it. He craves to see more of it. He wants to pick apart the pieces of your life and watch you put them back together━ just for him.

"Better to be an asshole than to be an idiot." 

He stares at you as you work through a stunned expression before he hears a short chuckle that lights up his soul. "I guess you're right."

He can't help the smirk that's plastered on his face as you walk away. 

━━━━

That's the first night that he follows you home. He knew it was wrong, he knew that it was creepy, but he set a pace slower than yours and lingered behind you still, hood over his head. It is almost as if he is outside of his own body, watching himself. Going through the motions. He reminds himself that he is not those criminals on the streets. He wouldn't sweep you into the Iceberg Lounge, get you drunk, and take advantage of you. No. He'd never hurt someone like you. 

You're disgusting, Edward. 

He watched you enter your apartment. He should leave now. You're inside and safe nobody got to you. But he doesn't believe it quite yet, so he stands and observes the windows above searching until he can see you clearly through the pane of glass. He sighs a breath of release. He can see you sit your bag down and roll out the tension in your shoulders. Your heels come off and then you're yanking the curtains shut. 

He averts his eyes out of instinct once he spots the slight crack the curtain doesn't cover. 

This is wrong, Edward. 

But he can't help but let his eyes travel what he can see in the crack. Your bare legs, a flash of a bare hip. You look so soft even in such small glimpses. He can't help the heat that rushes through him. 

Why are you here, Edward?

And then you pull the curtains open again slightly. He watches as you settle into your bed, the only light is tiny lamp illuminating the features of your face perfectly for him. He can see you so clearly from this angle. The expression you hold is nothing like the cheerful nature you attempt to hold in the office. It's raw. He can tell you're processing a long day. 

He's been there. Almost every night actually. The thoughts are inescapable. He's always there, in that godforsaken cot. He will never escape the pain of the rats sinking their jagged teeth into his skin. He can still hear the cries of the freezing infants. He can see tears dripping off the bridge of your nose and onto the sheets below your head. 

He wonders if you feel that same emptiness he feels. Could you see him? Could you see into his soul and touch him in a way he's never experienced? He can feel the roses growing into his lungs and the fire that is lit in his heart. He would tear this city apart if it meant he could keep you alive and happy. 

━━━━

He can't hide the way that your company brings him a sense of joy. He's lacked a companion all these years and it's nice to be able to eat lunch with someone. To talk about something other than the paperwork that needs to be filed or accounts that need to be looked into. It makes him feel oddly normal. He can forget about the corruption that plagues the city for a moment. He can forget about the empty orange bottles in his bathroom cabinet that he refuses to get refilled.

It's comfortable. Something he hasn't experienced in his whole life. For a while he thought experiencing comfort may be something that doesn't exist. At least not for people like him. Maybe that's why he enjoys your presence so much. You don't know his past, or where he comes from. There's nothing for you to judge. You're forced to see him with zero prejudice. 

It's not like the topic hadn't come up, though. It had, and he had always done his best to steer you away from the truth. He thinks back to a conversation he had with you during one of your lunchbreaks. The conversation turned uncomfortably close to family. 

Family. 

A word he had never connected with. A concept that was never familiar to him. A negative space in his knowledge of society. You had confided in him about wanting more for yourself. You didn't see yourself in this office for your whole life, but you needed the money with nowhere else to go and nobody else to rely on. And when he had asked if your family was absent you had responded:

"No, I mean they were supportive in my school days, but...I don't think things are that great between us anymore."

He's desperate to keep the conversation focused on you. "Did something happen?"

You laugh. "Nothing major. After high school they wanted me to go to college, get a good degree, marry someone, and settle down."

You meet his eyes. "At that time that sort of life felt like a scam. But, now I kind of wonder if I would've been better off."

He tries to imagine filling that role. Bringing you flowers, meeting your parents, being the boy that they'd love their child to reproduce with. But the universe hadn't been kind enough to him to set your paths to cross sooner. It had never been kind enough to give him any of the things that might fill the void inside of him. Perhaps he had sinned while he was still in his mother's womb. Perhaps that's why she had given him up, she could see that he was tainted from the start. 

Your eyes meet his. "What about you? You got any family in town?" It's the part of the conversation he'd been simultaneously dreading and trying to avoid. "I-" He can't even finish his sentence. I have nobody. He thinks.

"Shit- I was sup posed to call this client. Um, let's finish this talk later." He quickly grabs up his trash and leaves the break room.

━━━━

You hadn't asked about it after he had hastily left the breakroom. He silently appreciated it. He's sure you wondered, but you were now too uncomfortable to ask. And honestly that didn't matter to him as long as it meant he could still be worthy of your presence. As long as you still brought him coffee every morning and greeted him with your brightest smile. Like he meant the world to you. 

The soft hand that grabs his as he starts to head home startles him at first. But he loosens up as he turns to meet your soft expression. He notices how quickly you had yanked your hand from his, as if its burned to touch. He waits for you to speak first. "I- um- Sorry, I was just gonna see if you had plans now." He feels those flames in his chest again. Just as he had the night he watched you through the window. 

"There's a diner on the corner near here. I think they have decent pie."

And for a second he lets his mind roam. He wants so badly to say yes. He could say yes, abandon any plan he has going for him and his followers right in this moment, but he's in too deep. It would be selfish to get you involved. He'd rather fall for you from a distance in an effort to keep you safe. He would take all of the falls for you, even if you never knew the truth. 

"Oh. I'm actually sort of drowning in... paperwork right now." He tries to avoid your eyes. He hates thinking you may feel hurt from his words. "I'm sorry." 

He can hear the pang of rejection in your laugh before you respond. "Oh no! It's totally fine, I probably have paperwork to finish too." He meets your eyes one more time before you take off. "I'll see you tomorrow."

━━━━

He knew you wouldn't see him the next day. Of course he hadn't mentioned that. He wonders if you will miss him while he's gone as he climbs through the skylight of Don Mitchell's home. It's quiet, but he can hear the television and the faint sound of a phone call in the distance. That's when he sees him, his target. The man who had promised so much, yet delivered nothing to the people who needed it the most.

What a disgusting man.

Mitchell is debating on the phone about the upcoming election. Of course he has plans to stay in office, another couple of years to do absolutely nothing. He doesn't want to hear it anymore. 

He's disgusting. Filthy. Kill him, Edward. 

So he does. He lets his body crash into the man until he can force the carpet tucker into the man's head multiple times. He doesn't even know how many times he's hit him at this point. It's almost like he has blacked out. Just the crunch of bones and squelch of flesh ringing in his ears. But he comes to when the man underneath him stops squirming.

He's high off adrenaline and his mind is racing, but he can only imagine what you would think about him if you had seen him in this moment. He straddles the man and imagines you were there, right in front of him. Looking down at the mess he's made. And he can imagine your smile. 

It makes his body hot, and he lets his head fall back as he closes his eyes and lets the feeling sink in. He can hear your voice in his head.

Good boy, Edward. You've done such good for this city.

He can't help but let out a sigh of relief, because yes he wanted to be good for you. He can imagine The Bat standing right there next to you, and god- it's everything. The feeling of being loved and admired is everything to him, and he craves to feel it more. But it would have to wait. 

━━━━

Confidence is flowing through him as he arrives back to KTMJ after his three day absence. He was sick. Or at least that's what he had told his boss to give himself enough time to make sure that everything was still in order and going according to plan. He can't wait to see you. He hopes you'd forgive him for his absence and he can see that you do as you smile slightly seeing him walk in. You inform him of what he had missed around the office as well as the passing of the city's mayor. He only raises an eyebrow in an attempt to feign shock at the situation. 

"No but seriously where were you? I started to wonder if that psychopath got you too."

He smiles. He could look past your judgement for a moment because you cared about him and his well being. You worried about him in the same way he had worried about you. The same feeling that had provoked him to follow you home and watch you through your window. He smiles. "Just sick. November weather and all."

But the judgement soon became hard to overlook. You were visibly shaken at the news as the days went on. He had been doing all of this for you. He dreamed of creating a place where you no longer had to struggle and yet you were fearful of his actions. He can see this as you approach his desk and hold a hand to your forehead. 

"Sorry. I needed to get out of that." You gesture to the other side of the room where a group of coworkers were watching the latest news broadcast. "The news?" He inquires quietly.

"Yeah. It's a little too much for me to stomach." He hesitates for a moment. "They were pricks. Don't you think they kind of deserved it?"

He doesn't understand. Pete Savage was dead. It was a good thing. 

He was a pest.

"I think they were still people with families." 

All he can do is frown as you walk away. He'd fucked up.

━━━━

So he swallows his pride and apologizes after work ends for the day. It was too much to bring to you so quickly. He would have to give you time to adjust. You replied with a curt "It's fine." and keep your eyes from meeting his. 

Your body language towards him is uncomfortable and it's driving him up the walls. He wants things to be the way they were before, with you naturally gravitating towards him. He misses you. He lights a cigarette and takes a puff. It's a bad habit, but it's better than some of his other coping mechanisms. He decides to break the silence.

"And I'm sorry for last week."

He releases the tension in his shoulders when you finally look at him. 

"I've had a lot going on, and it feels a little unfair to bring you into all of that."

"This feels like an excuse to let me down easy. It's okay if you just don't want to go on a date-"

He can't stand to hear you speak any longer. So he steps forward and plants his lips on yours. It's so warm. Once again he has the opportunity to feel normal. He could stay like this forever, but opts to pull back to gauge your reaction. He leaves his free hand on your face. "It's not an excuse. Things are just complicated for me right now." He's telling the truth for once. He hopes you believe him. 

He watches you process for a moment, slowly. And then you press a kiss on the corner of his lips, and he's a goner. 

"When you're ready."

━━━━

It was easy for him to pick the lock of your window, and he can't help but get a little giddy as he pulls himself through the threshold and plants his feet onto the hardwood floor of your bedroom. You're not home, but it smells like you. 

So intoxicating, he thinks. 

He lets his finger glide across the framed photos on your nightstand. Who are these people to you? Do they care about you? Do they see you the way he does? His fingers stop at the handle of the nightstand drawer. Hesitation sets in.

He had seen you bare, and yet he hesitates at opening the drawer. He wonders how many people you've slept with. How many people had seen you vulnerable the way he had. He wonders how many names you've moaned in that bed. Did you keep the drawer equipped for a one night stand? He skips the drawer. 

He slips a glove off of one hand and feels the plush fabric of your bed. It smells like your shampoo. It's a pleasant scent that he had grown all too familiar with as you leaned into him at work. 

"I think the answer might be 'desire'."

He perks up and faces you. "Hm?" You smile. "Number 9, down. 'To want.' It's desire." You lean over to lay a finger onto the page. He stutters.

"Right. Thanks." 

A part of him wishes you were here and under the sheets. He closes his eyes under the mask and lets himself imagine it. He imagines what it would be like if you had let him in, if you had kissed him, if you had told him how incredible he looked. How imposing. He imagines a scenario in which you can accept him for it. 

He can't help the hand that travels to palm his erection over his pants. That little voice in his head is encouraging. Just do it. They're out. They may not even be coming back. Or maybe they'll come back with someone else to take to bed. Mark your territory.

He pulls the latch of his belt open. It feels so wrong as he pictures your soft face focusing on paperwork at your desk. What would you think of him in this moment if you saw him? Would you be disgusted? Kick him out? Call him pathetic?

God, he'd give anything for you to just step on him. Just to call him pathetic.

His cock is already weeping when he gets it out of his pants. He keeps his strokes quick and tight. He can see you in the bed in front of him. He pictures the way your lips would feel wrapped around the tip of his aching erection. He wonders if it would feel as warm as his chest feels when he sees your smile. He'd do anything for you. 

His orgasm comes quick and has whimpers racking through him. He falls to his knees on the hardwood floor and attempts to catch his breath before finally eyeing the spurts of cum that paint the front of his shirt and fist. He sighs.

You're pathetic, Edward. 

━━━━

It becomes another one of his bad habits after that. It's wrong, he knows this. But it's even more thrilling when he can tell that you know. He can see it in your movements that you can feel him watching. It goes from frightening you to electrifying you. You used to hide under the sheets and squeeze your eyes shut. But you've quit closing the curtains before you climb into bed.

He's simply protecting you. Who's to say some creep won't try to claim you as their own. He'd never let it happen. And if you could get as much joy out of it as he could, why not?

He justifies it to himself as he watches you pull down your work tights slowly. In full view in the window, the moonlight hitting you perfectly, and god- he wants to claim you as his own. He watches as you arch your back. It's a shame he can't hear your moans through the glass from this distance. But it fuels his imagination well enough. 

He can picture taking you from behind, up against the window he's watching you through. He wants the whole world to know that you're his. Yet, he always wants to hide you away and never share with anyone. He wonders if you'd like it with his mask on, or if you'd prefer to see him vulnerable to you. His fingers are itching to touch you and it's torture to watch you come to your end without him. 

He wants so many things from you. It's selfish. Your body is beautiful, but he also wants your soul. He pictures himself settling down with you in a nice home far far away from Gotham. Maybe a kid or two, or maybe none, he doesn't really mind either way. It's everything he's ever wanted and yet he had convinced himself he would never have it. He's made himself a martyr. He can't come back from it. You had gotten to him too late. He feels tears stinging in his eyes as he comes. 

━━━━

He can sense a shift in the atmosphere at the office in the next couple of weeks. He had taken care of Gil Colson and the finale was right around the corner. He tried to be giddy about it. He was once so excited to show people the real Gotham and to wash this city away promptly after. But now he had his doubts. 

But there was no backing out for him. He would sacrifice himself just as he had planned. But he wanted to spend this last week with you. He needed it. He needed that last week of normalcy before he had to throw it all away. 

He doesn't understand why you look so frightened when he pulls you into the alleyway after work. He kisses you, because he needs to. He's tired of watching you and not getting to touch you. But you're pulling away quickly and he finds himself reaching out for you, craving more. He brushes your arm in an attempt to comfort you. "Are you okay?"

"I know, Edward."

He knows what you mean, but he feigns innocence. "What?" He watches as you take two steps back out of his reach. "You're killing people." He can only stare at you. What was he supposed to say? Should he just admit it all to you right then and there?

He thinks about what it might be like to kill you in that moment. To feel the warmth of your blood running down his arms and face. But it doesn't bring that same satisfaction that came with all of his other kills. In fact, it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth and makes his stomach turn. 

You meant too much. You weren't some corrupt snake parading as a saint. You were just a person trying their best to survive. He wants to leave kisses all over your soft face and apologize profusely at your feet for even allowing himself to think such a thought. In that moment he knows he will have to get you out before the flood. Otherwise, he will never be able to live with himself.

"I think you should go home and rest."

He leaves before you can react.

━━━━

He keeps good on his word. He will get you out of his hellhole before he destroys it. Before he wipes it clean. But first, you and him have unfinished business. 

He climbs through your window while you shower. And he doesn't feel bad this time. It's his last chance. The last time he will likely ever see you again. He stands and waits patiently for the water to stop and the patter of your bare feet on the cold floor.

When you finally appear, his heart is pounding in his chest. You're wearing just a nightgown, your hair soaked. You look like an angel, he thinks. He may be the devil in your eyes, but that's okay.

He sees how you freeze when you see him. Eyes wide. Shaking. "Edward."

He smiles as he steps toward you and cups one of your cheeks. You're warm and soft even through the glove on his hand. He wipes a tear from your face with this thumb.

"No more through the window. I'll be gone soon."

He removed the mask he came in. He doesn't need it to feel powerful around you. "I watched you live for a month. I watched you eat, sleep, undress, touch yourself. But you knew that right? Otherwise you wouldn't have put on such a show."

You squirm in his grasp but he holds you tight and continues. "But that's alright. I'll tell you the truth because I hate liars. I liked knowing that you were doing it all for me. I wanted nothing more than to cleanse Gotham, to give them true salvation, but you put a dent into that plan. You became a distraction that I foolishly indulged."

He feels on top of the world. He softens his grip and holds you by the small of your back before softly kissing you. He wants you to feel safe with him. The news, the media, the politicians they all saw him as a monster. The devil. But for you he would soften his gaze, loosen up his shoulders, and bubble wrap the metaphorical horns on his head to keep them from poking you. 

He leans back long enough to let you make your decision. He had bared his truth to you. He had expressed his want. If you wanted to leave you could. If you wanted him to stay he would. He would leave the ball in your court. But it only took a moment before your wide eyes closed and you surged forward to kiss him again. It's slightly violent the way your lips meet his and it's intoxicating to him. It floods a familiar heat into his belly. 

You're opening up so wide for him. For his tongue in your mouth and his fingers up your nightgown. It's easy for him to slip the fabric of your panties off your legs. He moves to his knees as he speaks.

"I wanted to do it right. Wanted to take you to that diner, buy your food, take you home, and act like I hadn't thought about fucking you into your mattress every single night."

He stares up at you for a moment and relishes in the little moan that slips past your lips at his words, before diving in. You taste so good. He wants to be on his knees worshipping you for the rest of his goddamn life. He can't help but smile when his tongue curls over that spot that makes your hips jerk forward. 

You're angelic.

"But it would be wrong to pretend to be someone I am not. I'm not a liar."

He lets two fingers prod at your entrance before sinking them in to his knuckles and curling up until you're yanking at his hair. "Eddie-" He's on his feet in an instant, swallowing up your moans in an open mouthed kiss, still working you open with his fingers. He can tell that you're right on the edge when he pulls his fingers from you, smiling at the whimpers you let out. He can't take it anymore, he needs to be inside you. So he pushes you to the bed and unbuckles his belt. 

It's quick and intense. The feeling of your walls fluttering around him is unlike any other feeling he's experienced. It's better than the pleasure he gets from watching the life drain from his prey. He can't help but whimper. 

You're gripping him so tight, if he weren't wearing the layer of green leather he's sure your nails would be biting into the skin of his back. He wants to bleed for you so badly. He meets your eyes, and he wants to pour everything he has into you. All of his love. But he spots the tears that are welling up in your eyes immediately and he falters a little. 

He wipes away your tears just as he had before.

"Does this not make you happy?"

He's startled when you cradle his face in your hands. "I am happy. But what comes after this? Am I supposed to ignore you and pretend I know nothing about you? That I feel nothing for you?" He stops moving altogether. His heart burns. He had been so caught up in finally having you this close that he had let himself forget the situation he was in.

"I have to mean nothing to you. Momentarily."

His eyes are burning. The longer he looks at you the more he wants to cry. So he kisses you instead with all the love he has to give behind it and continues his movements. 

He hears you start to speak, but cuts you off as his thrusts grow erratic and jerking. "I love you- please god- just say it back to me. Tell me you love me." And you force his eyes to meet yours by cradling his face again.

"Edward, I love you."

He falls apart, letting warm spurts of cum paint you from the inside out. He's never felt more alive as he buries his face into your neck and lets out soft whimpers and cries. He hopes you meant it. Though, he knows there's a chance you only said it to please him in the moment, he hopes and prays that you had secretly been holding back those words for weeks. He hopes you'll think of him often once he's gone. He rolls off of you and tucks himself back into his pants. 

"I'm gonna turn myself in in a couple of days."

"Okay."

"You should leave Gotham. It's not going to be safe for you here. If the cops ask, you're visiting a friend in Bludhaven."

He grabs your hand and meets your gaze.

"I promise if I ever get out, I'll find you."

━━━━

It breaks his heart to watch you sleep next to him. It reminds him of everything he missed out on. For so much of his life he had nothing. Nobody. And yet now, as you clutch onto his arm in your slumber, he feels a pang in his heart. As if you're his. It makes him want to call off everything, neutralize the bombs, move the vans, pick you up and take you far away. Far enough that nothing could ever hurt you or him ever again. 

But it's not realistic. He knows that you understand that by the way you had simply agreed with his plan to turn himself in. He selfishly hopes that you'd never be able to move on. That nobody would ever compare to him. He'd keep that thought in his head to cope with what's to come.

He slowly pushes himself off the bed and leans over your sleeping form. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, his way of saying "Goodbye. For now at least."

━━━━

The crack of the rifle has his ears ringing, but he doesn't care. He's put his body on autopilot. He's already down the fire escape and in the diner before the pigs can even comprehend what's happened. This was it. The beginning of the end. 

He remembers your words.

He orders a slice of pumpkin pie and stirs his coffee while he waits for the inevitable. 

#edward nashton #dano!riddler #dano riddler #paul dano riddler #edward nashton x reader #edward nashton x you #dano!riddler x reader #the riddler #the riddler x reader #paul dano #the batman #edward nashton smut #edward nashton angst #edward nashton fluff

[spicyicetea]

To change a thief’s heart

Yandere Persona 5 X Reader

Chapter 1: What a nice coffee

Art by Anastasiya Osichkina

Warning: This story is a yandere x reader story and will contain obsessive, violent and inappropriate behaviour. This story will eventually contain NSFW and various kinks, decently large age gaps and potentially triggering themes so please only read at your own discretion. MDNI

I took the final sip of the warm coffee/tea as the bell above the door jingled. The soft thudding of shoes filled the shop as I placed the cup down and fished around in my bag for my wallet. The cup was almost completely refilled by the time I had placed the cup back on the saucer.

“Ah, you’re back, and you brought your friends. Don’t make a mess or bother the customers alright?” A voice said as I looked to the door at the group of people in uniform.

“Oh? I had no idea you knew people who went to Shujin. You should’ve told me Sojiro, you know I’ve been looking into the Kamoshida incident…” I mumbled puffing my cheeks out.

He just chuckled as he turned to face the group in the doorway. With a flick of the wrist he motioned them in and they gathered around the counter. A girl with pale blonde pigtails messed with her hair before looking at Sojiro.

“Is this your girlfriend mr Sakura?”

I coughed on my coffee and spun to look at them. He laughed, taking the now spilt coffee away from me. After patting my back a few times he put the cloth he had been cleaning with down.

“No, this is Miss Y/N, she’s an… old friend of mine.”

“Hey! I’m not that old Sojiro,” I laughed, standing up from the stool I was on. Fixing my hair, dusting off my sweater vest while smiling at the group. I offered my hand to the central black haired person. “Hello, my name is F/N L/N, I take it you’re the one staying upstairs.”

“Uh, how did you-“

Sojiro interrupted the boy with a hearty chuckle.

“She’s always been like that, people used to think she’s psychic when she first started getting coffee here.”

“So you come here often? I’ve never seen you here before…” The girl questioned.

“Oh, I’ve been away on business. I’m a detective investigating the strange mind breaking incidents. Recently I’ve heard about those Phantom thieves and I think their recent acts are similar and potentially their methods could be linked to the mind breaks.”

“Wait! You for real believe they’re behind it?!”

“No, but I do believe learning their methods could help understand who is abusing this strange phenomenon to murder people.”

“So do you think that the Phantom thieves are… just?” The black haired one said.

I smiled as I slung my bag over my shoulder. “I think those who can view mementos should use their powers for good. So yes, I think they are.” I say before leaving, not missing the shocked face the boy had.

As I left I turned as the black haired person held a boon I had been reading to me. I thanked him and bowed before he said it was unnecessary. He seemed to be holding something back so I just smiled and ran a hand through my hair.

“Your name is Akira, correct?”

His eyes widened and he just nodded.

“I won’t ask you upfront, I know even if you had the answer I suspected you wouldn’t answer truthfully. But, I think I could help you… but I’d need something in return. You were involved in the Kamoshida incident, correct?”

“Do you want to use me for information? Like an interrogation?”

“No, it’s just… my boss is putting pressure on me to find the phantom thieves… he wants them arrested.”

“You want my help to find them?”

“… His name is Akihiro Junpei, he treats the station and all of his colleagues as slaves. He believes that place is his Mansion and we’re just his servants.”

His phone buzzed and he looked at it with wide eyes. Bingo, a perfect hit. I spun on my heel and walked off. It’s going to be fun playing cat and mouse with the phantom thieves.

#x reader #yandere x reader #yandere persona 5 x reader #yandere persona x reader #yandere persona #yandere persona 5 #persona 5 x reader #persona #persona 5

[lorata]

Dexter & Callista, 57

for @transrevolutions on your natal day, here is uhhh some ... dark ....... conversations about death and mentoring, anger and violence and tributes who don't usually get a lot of attention? (skye & jasper)

SORRY I TRIED TO WRITE CREED but this happened instead

warnings for: canon-typical violence (arena and otherwise), mentions of offscreen victor prostitution

------------------------

Skye crumples to the ground, his chest a bloody ruin, and Two’s newest mentor brings home her first victor without even trying. Dexter had played nice with her because why not, kid had been terrified and heartsick like all of them their first time in the ring and soon she’d know the ugly stench of loss like everyone else, that sick little bonding ritual that brought them all together. Joke’s on him, though, looks like she didn’t need his condescension.

“Good game,” Dexter grinds out dully as he pushes himself to his feet, mostly because Phillips made such a fucking scene about it when his died and it feels like there’s a point to prove somewhere. Not that anybody notices, it’s endgame now so there are morgues to visit and families to call and consolation speeches to choke out for the losers. Starting tonight, sponsors will be looking to cash in their failed investments, but he can’t — not right now, not yet.

For the winners — well, Dexter wouldn’t know. He’s never brought one back alive.

The corridors bustle with activity, Avoxes and runners hustling and upstart nepotism-gifted junior Gamemakers barking out orders to make themselves feel important with their bosses busy upstairs. Someone slams hard into Dexter, knocking him fully sideways, but he keeps walking, ignoring the babbled apology.

Cannot go to the One floor, with its perfumed showers and apologetic escort and list of assignments likely already waiting. Not the mentor common floor, either, with the pity-party raging and where they will not welcome the almost-rans who murdered all the early losers. The roof, then — not the penthouse garden above the tribute apartments, home of District 12’s fresh meat, but like much of the Capitol there’s the glitzy, glittery parts for show and then there’s everything else. A few slipped pills to an Avox and Dexter’s in an access elevator to a square of rooftop nestled halfway up the complex between two spires.

He expects the gritty concrete and traffic grime, the blare of distant celebrations and occasional blaze of a travelling strobe light; he does not expect a goddess in athleisure with her feet propped up against the wall, smoking a noxious-smelling cigarette. “New girl won,” Dexter says, to give himself some time.

Callista exhales a long plume of smoke. After waiting a while for her reply, Dexter decides that must be it and lowers himself down across from her. “You know those things will kill you,” he says, out of some stupid compulsion. He can’t look at carbohydrates without feeling an itch to stuff his fingers down his throat and the only euphoria he’s ever experienced came in tablet form passed via Callista’s tongue, but his minders would have whipped him for that.

“I,” Callista says with grave reverence, “am microdosing on mortality.”

“What, all this isn’t enough for you?” He waves an arm behind them, where a condominium complex has projected the faces of all the tributes. As he watches, Skye and Camphor switch from full colour to black and white.

But at the same time, he knows what she means. They don’t make a drug mean enough for what he wants, they don’t make drugs that fill your lungs with tar and ash, that scrape your throat and make you rasp and cough. He failed, again. A beautiful, hopeful, stupid, cocky child has died, again. Sparkly club drugs and golden thrumming in his veins won’t help him now.

Callista hands it over. Dexter inhales deep — oh, big mistake, his lungs immediately protest — he chokes, spluttering, passes the cigarette back as his head spins and his stomach turns over. He closes his eyes and rests his head against the wall. “We were so close. So close.”

She hums. “You had a sweet one this year. How would he have fared, your boy? When they got their claws in him.”

Skye — was sweet, for One. He and Camphor had made themselves a killer pair. They’d known how to work it, too, rinsing each other off by the lake, curling up at night, teasing the audience without ever taking real advantage of each other. If it had been the two of them in the end, Dexter has no doubts they would have fought it out without hard feelings, true professionals, no hidden barbs and buried hatred coming out to play.

And when he won, it would be Dexter’s job to remind him of the cost. To sit him down, give him the list of names, and tell him exactly how they liked it, exactly as his mentor had done with him.

Anger flares, better than any drug. Dexter clings to it even as it slips through his fingers, like blood-slick intestine. “Is this you trying to make me feel better? Better he’s dead than have to suffer my life?”

Calista stares at him, incomprehending, and he could do it now, could throw himself at her and wrap his arms around her throat, bash his fists into her skull and leave her face a bloody pulp, shove her over the edge and let the sidewalk take her, every single awful, ugly urge that bubbles up when he’s on his knees but he isn’t in some plush bedroom now, is he, and she has no power over him —

“I apologize,” Callista says, and Dexter nearly screams no, don’t, I need to feel this, don’t you say you’re sorry to me but it’s too late, it all deflates. “I am furious. I want to kill. I want to feel the blood again, I want to hurt — I want to hurt.” She says it one more time, reverent, like a litany. “I wanted to hurt.”

“How can you say it like that.” Dexter almost laughs, except it’s not funny, he just — can’t make the pieces fit together. “You say these things and you’re just … sitting there, smoking. You sound like you’re ordering caviar at dinner.”

“This is how I always sound.” Callista bares her teeth in a smile that sets his skin crawling. “Ladies do not raise their voice. Ladies are elegant. Ladies —“

“Kill the guy they’re having sex with on live television and scar impressionable young boys? Come on.”

Callista huffs a sound somewhere between a snort and a snicker. “Not all of them, clearly.”

Everything is fucked, Dexter thinks, Skye should be alive and he should not be in a complicated mutilation-and-orgasms situationship with a rival mentor, but here they are. “That was still a shitty thing to say.”

Out in the streets the victory fanfare plays on tinny loop from a dessert truck. Callista closes her eyes. “I thought the Arena would make it stop,” she says. “I want to hurt — everything, everyone, all the time. I practice control with things that matter but give me an excuse and I will tear your throat out. You were wounded and I knew I could hurt you. You may take a free shot, if you’d like.”

Well, that gave him something to chew on when his brain isn’t stuffed with Skye’s death stare — Callista’s mouth on his, hand sliding between his legs, crammed into a back alley with an unconscious man’s blood pooling at their feet; the time he asked her to make him hurt and she took him close, but not quite, to using the safe word she’d taught him, and he’d cried in her arms in the comedown and they’d never talked about it, I practice control with things that matter what the fuck —

“Is that why you pick the villains?” Dexter blurted out instead, like he’s nineteen and suicidal all over again.

She exhaled through her nose. The cigarette had long burned out, and she glanced down at it, clicked her tongue, and flicked the butt away. “Never let me accuse you of being soft. Villains, really.”

“You have to know.” This year especially, Dexter has a steel stomach and even he didn’t relish those hours of watching Callista’s boy fillet the little one from Twelve. They’d all been grateful when Four took care of it. “Outliers are the underdog or the dark horse, but we’re either a hero or, well.”

Dexter, more fool him, usually went for heroes, despite the hell that waited for them. District 1 had enough angry mentors who went for the nasty ones, he could afford to try. In the end they all bled out the same.

“I hate that word.” Callista clips the words with icy precision. “They are children. Children who give the audience exactly what they want, a bloodbath. Children with no artifice, children who cannot pretty up their kills with talk of loyalty or pride or wanting to see their precious little homesteads again. The people drink up the spectacle each year and demand more, bigger, flashier. These Games teach us it is our nature to do whatever it takes to survive. My children are villains because they don’t come with equal amounts of remorse to make it palatable.”

“Sure, but this one tortured a kid,” Dexter says. Sometimes Twos really are a whole other level. “Don’t you think you’d have it easier if you picked kids who … didn’t do that? As soon as he started skinning you know they would have offed him, whether the Pack did him in or not.”

Now Callista’s eyes blaze, and for a second he thinks she’ll actually hurt him, not just throw bladed words, but the only thing that escapes her is a low hiss. “So he died regardless, knowing that he made me proud. He deserves that much. His time of glory and a mentor who loves him, even only for a month. They all deserve that. I am not in this for the safe sells, obedient little quarry sons and daughters with patriotic sponsors lined up out the door. Anyone can love those. I am here for the ones nobody else will.”

In spite of himself, Dexter’s throat feels thick. Did his mentor talk to anyone like that about him? Or does that kind of unfettered, passionate protectiveness burn out the first time you hand your victor off to the pawing crowd? He feels ancient and naked at the same time. “Well,” he says, uselessly, “here’s to dead kids who deserve better.”

Callista presses the toe of her shoe against his calf and lets her eyes fall shut. They stay outside, awake but silent, until nightfall.

#we must be killers: tales from district 2 #oc: callista #oc: dexter #my writing

[two-white-butterflies]

WAITING FOR A BUS

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Reader, Daemon Targaryen x Reader (MODERN)

Description: A new promotion at work prompts you to move into a small modest town with your boyfriend, Aemond Targaryen. There you meet a few friendly faces. It seems like life is going where it's supposed to. That is until you meet your new boss, Daemon Targaryen, who is your boyfriend's estranged uncle.

It doesn't help with the fact that you've been having dreams about him since birth.

It was a shit storm from the beginning. You told him that attempting to murder his nephew was a death-wish. That they would never make it out alive. "You're not going anywhere," you mumble while holding him in place. He camped outside of Harrenhall for thirteen-fortnights. He wanted to kill Aemond — you of all people should know that.

"We're not retreating," he asserts while moving past you. Caraxes was slumbering behind you, a thick fog of smoke reigned over Gods Eye. It was the largest lake in all of the seven-kingdoms, and gods be damned if it became your beloved's sarcophagus. "I would rather die, woman." he gritted his teeth, staring demandingly at the stone castle.

The castle could easily be burnt by his dragon, but he couldn't ruin the only castle that reminded his niece of Harwin Strong. "— and die you will, if Aemond ever has the mind to descend upon us." you feared the one-eyed prince and his large dragon.

Vhagar was said to be the largest living dragon. You didn't have any doubts about that. "I will not die today, but my nephew — he might." he said smugly seeing the familiar figure of his petulant nephew.

Aemond's back was slumped, a sign of bad posture. In his right hand was a metal sword — on his left side was Alys Rivers, his loyal paramour. Daemon's hands found the small of your waist — feeling possessive over your small figure. Aemond was staring at you up and down, almost undressing you with his mere eye.

"Your cowardice has reached an end, dear nephew. It's nice of you to make your presence known." Daemon smirked while playing with the dark sister on his right hand. Only one of them will survive tonight, and it's going to be him. "You are the only coward here, uncle." the boy replied smugly while petting his dragon.

There were goosebumps on your hand. Throat attempting to leak green bile — but showing weakness wasn't good, he taught you that. The sounds became too loud, and soon — both of them began to board their dragons and fight atop the lake.

"Daemon!" you scream, seeing his figure disappear above the clouds.

——— Beads of sweat formed atop your forehead, hands grasping upon the velvet blanket, and you began to sit upright. Another fucking nightmare, you cursed while staring at the digital clock beside you. 3:41, the clock read as it beeped neon green. It was too early. Too fucking early for bullshit.

These nightmares have been haunting you as far as you can remember. Those lavender eyes that have been staring at you since you were just a little girl. It was stupid to dream about dragons and fire, yet the theme always stayed the same after all these years.

Aemond stirs awake, his heavy arms wrapped around your thighs. "Aemond," you whisper in a hoarse voice. Your loving boyfriend of six-years, knew all about these nightmares. "Go back to sleep," he replied in an equally hoarse voice.

The light of the lamp illuminated his neat features, his slender nose and sharp jawline. "I can't sleep," you whisper feeling your eyelids flutter in tiredness. When these 'night terrors' begin, there was no hope for rest. "Just close your eyes." he mumbled while pulling you back into the bed.

It stayed like that for a while. His broad chiseled arms wrapped around your petite figure — his legs there were rested atop yours. He had a steady breathing, mouth slightly ajar from all the lack of sleep. You didn't want to bother him, but sleep wasn't exactly coming.

You slither away from his grasp, avoiding his second-attempt at hugging you. In your place, you add a soft pillow smothered in between his legs. It was enough to fool a sleeping Aemond. You began to sashay into the living room, which was adjacent to the kitchen. The apartment had an open-concept to it, and thus you were able to see everything all at once.

You reach for the pack of bread inside the fridge (something Aemond found weird as bread wasn't usually stored in fridges,) and you place them inside the toaster. You had a few minutes until Aemond woke up, as he couldn't sleep without you.

The fridge opens again and out comes a jar of butter that he made from scratch. The toaster beeps — and a pair of toasted bread came out. You groan, the beeping could wake him up. And that man deserved all the rest that he could get.

And just like you predicted, he was already up — scratching his eye lazily and walking in your direction. "Why are you up so early, babe?" he asks while pressing a soft kiss on your cheek. He took a bite of the toast you made, slathering a spoonful of nutella. "I couldn't sleep again," you replied while taking a bite of your own toast.

There were battalions of reasons as to why you couldn't sleep. It could be the fact that those 'nightmares' seem too realistic to become nightmares, or that the man named 'Daemon' with purple eyes couldn't be erased from your mind. You couldn't remember his face, but those purple eyes have engraved themselves into your soul.

It was fucking real. You could still feel the fog of Gods Eye, and the heat of that dragon, Caraxes. There was another man there too, he was a dragon-rider, but you couldn't remember his name. Only the fact that he was an enemy.

"I think you should go to therapy." he advised while playing with the strands of your hair. He found great comfort in your hair — according to him, he used to have much longer hair until his abusive father forced him to cut all of it off once he turned nine. "The nightmares have been gone for a while, babe. I think it just came back 'cuz we moved into a new city." you reason, trying to get away from therapy.

In all truths, you didn't have money for it. It was too expensive for a normal day citizen. You couldn't ask your boyfriend for any more money, he hated taking money out of his trust-fund. "If it continues even after we've settled, I think it's worth going to therapy for." he added while finishing his toast.

You chuckle softly, taking a sip of your hot water. "I won't have time once I've started teaching those high-school kids." you laugh, reminiscing the days of your childhood. They were all blurs to be honest. "I don't think you'll be able to do much teaching, they're all sycophants." he rolls his eye.

"Sycophant, that's a big word." you frown while wiping the counter clear of the crumbs from your toast. He's been acting weird for a while. Sometimes he doesn't even seem like the same person. "I learnt it from wikipedia," he pipes while pushing you away from the sink. "By the way, I'm washing the dishes." he dominates while taking up all the space.

It makes you smile, thinking about how lucky you are to have him.

"Get ready for school — look scary, and make sure that those kids hate to love you." he reminds, and you press a kiss to his temple. "You want me to become a terror teacher?" you giggle, pressing another kiss to his cheek. "A hot one," he chuckles closing his fist and opening it into your face — splashing you with water.

"Mkay," you mumble, taking a step away from him. You began to walk to your room, already having an outfit in mind for school. "But remember to pick me up. I'm not familiar with the streets yet." you remind and he nods his head.

"I won't forget it, love." he promised, seeing you retreat inside the room.

———

The school was a few minutes away from your apartment. Ten to twenty minutes, depending on whether or not you use the public transport. Aemond was driving you today, which meant that you were going to be a little early to class. Better early than late.

He stops in front of the junior high-school building. "I'll pick you up later, pumpkin." he lowers the window, you lean a little closer to peck his lips. "I'll be out at six," you remind and he nods his head. "I'll try to get out of work early, but if I can't then Aegon can pick you up." he briefed while slowly driving away.

You wave goodbye, seeing the red car disappear from view. You turn around to face the large building, feeling nervousness creep inside your soul. You open your small android phone, already feeling eyes stare at you. Highschool students were crazy, but not crazy enough to send you running.

You stare at the email. You are the advisor of St. Maria Goretti, the patron saint of purity, young women and assault (at least according to google.) You begin to walk in the large halls of the building, searching for the 10th grade, and finally finding your assigned classroom.

You lower a big box on your desk, it was filled with binders and free notebooks — you weren't sure if the students were going to use it. It was a catholic private school, all of them were loaded.

A woman clears her throat from the other side of the room. Your eyes trail down from the floor, to her shoes and finally to her face. Pale blonde hair, and a familiar pair of purple eyes. "Hey, you must be the new teacher. I'm uhh — Ma'am Rhae, I'm actually the coordinator for english — and this grade level." she walks towards you in a warm manner.

"I'm (Your Name), I teach science." you smiled offering your hand to shake, but to her surprise — she begins to welcome you into a deep hug. She smelled like peony and suede, a wonderful combination — but typical for an english teacher. "Really? What college did you go to?" she inquired with renewed interest.

"I'm sure that you haven't heard of it, I'm kind of a country bumpkin." you chuckled while giving her a modest smile. It's nice to have a friend around here.

———

Rhaenyra excuses herself, exiting your room and running towards the nearest lavatory. There she fiddles with her pockets to find her phone. She dials the familiar sequence of numbers. 'Uncle Daemon 👹' the nickname read out, and it took a few rings for him to answer.

"Uncle," she called out in a panicked tone, she turns the faucet on so that other people may not listen in to the call. "Hey, what's up?" her uncle responded in a casual tone, there was grogginess to his voice — which meant that he had just woken up. "(Your Name) is here, and she doesn't remember anything." she breathed out in panic.

She could hear him curse from the other side of the call. Then suddenly, the call is dropped.

chapter two>>

AN: Comment to get tagged.

#aemond #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #fluff #angst #oneshot #aemond oneshot #hotd #aemond au #aemond x oc #aemond fanfiction #aemond imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond modern au #aemond modern #aemond targaryen modern au #aemond targaryen modern #modern!aemond #aemond x you #mygif #Aemond's hand #Aemond hand #aemond targaryen x modern!reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond one eye #aemond smut #dark aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #hotd fanfic

[redamoureux]

:00 if you could, maybe a yandere! hank x s/o who used to be an A.A.H.W agent? when they meet again, instead of s/o trying to kill them like they’re always have, reluctantly - they just flee?

─ Bad Blood

Yandere Hank J. Wimbleton Headcanons/short

↳ content warning: yandere themes, obsessive behaviour, stalking, shooting, violence, mild blood, murder, forced/dubious relationship, intimidation, hank's oddly kind of a soft yandere here

• genre: romantic

Working in an agency that's literally built to merely hunt one specific criminal is never an easy job. But with little place to work and protection around, you were obliged to accept the policy or you wouldn't get to see another day.

Auditor, the leader of the faction can be described as rather a cruel and vicious boss. Even though you've never met him directly, just by hearing whispers and tittle-tattle around the place never fails to make you falter.

So it doesn't suprises you when news about a massacre occured in one of the many base around the city reached auditor, he simply told his henchman to call up the janitors and clone even more grunts.

You were annoyed by this behaviour of him. Not only did he let his employees work in such poor condition, he also can't respect the values of lives. You thought the idea of this whole ordeal is just pure stupid. And most of the remaining mortal grunts like you also agreed, but your resentments are clearly silent, for the most part.

And the last but not least of your problems, Hank J. Wimbleton. Pratically being the root of the apocalypse happening nevada, he brings troubles or death for basically anyone he comes across. Heck, you were suprised that this man manage to even have a team in the first place.

One day, you were casually just sitting at the passenger seat of the agency's truck delivering supplies to another base that supposedly located not far away.

And the next thing you knew, another smaller vehicle drove right next to you, a hook suddenly emerges from the back of it and flew up above the truck's roof. While you and the driver were momentarily distracted by it, a bullet hits the window and shot the driver. Your startled state turned into panic and you immediately jumped out of your sitting position to grab the steering wheel, trying to control the truck while your leg tries to hit the brake.

Then something hits you on the head, knocking you out thus losing control over the truck and making screeching sound before crashing, almost rolling it over.

While you lay unconsciously on top of the driver's body, the smaller car's wheels halts just feets away from ths truck and two men comes out. The black figure near the broken window stares intensively at the two body before a voice behind him called.

Gaining your concious back by the throbbing pain in your head, you groan lightly before you took a glimpse at your surroundings and heard distant talking just outside the truck. Keeping yourself to shut up from the pain, you took the weapons stocked up under the seats and loaded it. Bracing yourself, you pushed the door open, getting the attentions of the men before you emerged and shot all around them immediately.

Fortunately, you were succesfully able to shot one of the guys and distracting the other, leaving only one familiar face to fight. Hank J. You gulp, wishing you really don't have to deal with him─ but you know your chances. And you're not dying without a fight atleast.

You kept on shooting, but he was be able to miss most of it and so you quickly changed guns when it ran out of bullets, before jumping out and running behind the truck. He followed closely and looked behind the truck, ready to kill, to find noone. A sound of car engine starting up makes his head perk up and he turns around to find the team's car moving forward at him at a fast speed, to which he quickly dodges. You kept speeding up until eventually they goes out of view.

With your heart pumping fast with adrenaline, you looked the rear mirror, seeing your ruined and blood stained form, you took deep breaths and have set one final plan in your mind.

Walking in the empty street, your footsteps clicks against the rocky road as you tinkered around with a broken tablet in your hand in attempt to turn it on. You bit the insides of your cheek as you remixed the wires again and pressed the power button.

Your attempt were proven fruitful when the tablet made a startup sound and the logo flashes up. You smiled at your succesful try as you happily looked at the screen. Suddenly you heard a short scream coming from an alley nearby which you stopped on your tracks.

You looked around to see where the sound may have came from─ when another long scream was heard once again, and this time you were be able to sense that it was coming from one of the alleys behind you. You ran towards the source of sound as a sound of bone cracking and a scream was suddenly heard again which made you hold your breath and lean against one of the closed stores.

You exhale and turn to take a peak, your eyes widen in horror as you gaze landed at the dead bodies on the ground, blood splattered almost everywhere as you saw a strong arm dropping down an ripped off arm. You mind screamed at you to run, and you were about to do so, when you heard pained whimpers. Squinting your eyes slightly, you saw a horribly injured grunt flump on the ground, staring at the tall shadow before them in terror and fear of their life.

You felt a sudden urge to save the grunt as you took out a syringe filled with some muscle relaxant drug and stared at it. You knew this has the high chance of possibly risking your life instead, but you're willing to try. Without a second thought you closed your eyes and sneaked up towards the man quick enough before he finishes off the grunt.

You stabbed the taller grunt with the syringe in the shoulder which made them to turn around and you punched him in the face. He let out a slight groan and buried his eyes in his hands to recover for a moment. You took this chance and helped the stunned grunt to get back up. As you're doing just that, you saw the taller grunt getting back his senses, so you whispered to the grunt you've helped "go!" With no hesitation, they nodded and ran.

Your relief was short-lived before you feel yourself being grabbed by the throat and thrown back harshly into the wall of the dark alley.

Groaning, you slump down the wall, feeling immense pain through your whole body from the impact. You merely looked up fearfully as the shadowy grunt slowly approaches you with shining, cracking red goggles. You swallow the knot in your throat and closed your eyes, preparing for the worst.

But nothing came.

Confused, you looked up and was taken aback with the grunt staring deeply into you, leaning in much closer than before. "Uh.." then all of a sudden, he pulled you up and carried you over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes. You immediately tried to retaliate, kicking your boots and yelling but it was hopeless.

Eventually you gave up, feeling annoyed. You weren't even sure what or where he's planning to do or go, yet you were too tired to think so you eventually slept. Then you were rudely woken up when you were plopped down a hard chair.

You shook your head a little before the view of your surroundings fully came in. A few grunts walks around in what seems like a factory some sort doing their works and a grunt wearing sensor goggles and mask. He's looking at his computer sits infront of you before glancing up at you. "So this is the one that you wanted to recruit?" He questions, you turned to your side to see the grunt from before nodding. Now that you were able to see his full form, now did you realize that it was Hank. Being next to him, you began to sweat.

"Welcome in the team then."

─────

Well, getting recruited and a decent payment with the unexpected help of a criminal certainly is not an everyday thing.

Your now employer, 2BDamned, or doc for short, saw your repaired tablet in your bag and asked if you were able to demonstrate more of your skill. You did. You fixed some machine there that broke down. Which was also the reason how you're landed a job as an engineer in the team.

It was fairly.. normal you could say. The other grunts there were pretty nice to talk to, some would be fearful when seeing you though, and you weren't really sure why. The work condition is definitely better than what in AAHW provided. One small problem though. Hank.

I mean sure, it's expected, hank is hank, doing hank things. But something is just off about how he behaved around you. He would just stand next to you, saying nothing while watching you do work. One time you were rushing to go down the stairs to meet doc but you slipped and fell down. You heard heavy boots approaching fastly and within seconds hank was by your side, offering a hand to you. You took his hand and stood up with a little struggle before thanking him and tried to let go of your hand but he wouldn't budge. So the entire meeting with doc was tad awkward with him just holding your hand.

He also likes to appear out of nowhere. You were just casually shopping at the remaining stable grocery shop in the city when suddenly there was a shadow cast over you and the cashier trembling and sweating looking up behind you. Which would result you to sigh, knowing that it's him.

You weren't sure how to respond to any of this behaviour of his, so you kind of just let it happen. Sometimes he can be pretty creepy sure yet, you're just grateful that he's not suffocating you to death and letting you live a fairly normal life. So the least you could do is tolerate his behaviour. Hoping that it just wouldn't go worse.

REBLOGS AND FEEDBACKS ARE APPRECIATED!

@redamoureux

#madness combat x reader #madness combat #madcom x reader #hank j wimbleton #hank j wimbleton x reader #yandere madcom #yandere madness combat #yandere x reader #madness combat headcanons

[sungbeam]

BIRD HUNT — teaser

nonidol!choi line x f!reader

gotham city is a gutter running rampant with the ill, corrupt, and the insane. at times, justice and vengeance must be served by one's own hand... no matter the lengths one must go to do so.

▷ genre, teaser warnings. bat family au, vigilantes au, murder mystery au, action, suspense, humor, swearing, mentions of dead bodies, murder, grief, corruption

▷ taglist. open

▷ first ep drop. feb 2nd?, pst (or earlier if i somehow get more writing done)

series masterlist

TEASER BELOW THE CUT (APPROX. 800 WORDS)

"How do you know Ln Yn?"

Beomgyu whirled around just as Soobin settled into the desk chair, waiting. Beomgyu made a scoffing noise, eyebrows flying up to his shaggy bangs. "Where did that come from?"

Soobin shrugged. "You tell me." He slurped up a bit more milk from his cereal before adding, "You're the one who reacted like that in front of everyone when she said she was grieving her mother's death. You sounded shocked that she died."

"Well yeah, wouldn't you be shocked to hear someone else died within the past three days?"

"Stop trying to bullshit him, Gyu."

Both the brothers looked up at the voice who had just entered the underground space. Yeonjun strolled into the main area in a white tank top and sweats, hair sticking up in different places. He stretched his arms above his head and yawned loud and wide.

Soobin cocked a brow at him. "Nice of you to finally join us, hyung. How'd the 'date' go?"

"Great," Yeonjun quipped. "We're going on a second one soon. I think Felix almost sent me off with a kiss goodnight." He slumped onto the edge of the desk, eyes lazily taking in the images and information displayed on the many monitor screens. "This is our stiff, huh?"

Soobin sent him a look that distinctly read 'No, we're just looking at dead bodies for fun.'

"Yeah," Beomgyu replied. "The note the killer left is so familiar to me though. Have you seen it before?" He knocked his knuckles against the monitor with the note.

Yeonjun's eyes narrowed on the screen, before he leaned back with that bored look renewed on his face. "You're both idiots. It's from that one killing a couple weeks ago."

Beomgyu and Soobin traded looks. "What?"

Their eldest brother leaned down to reach the lowest drawer at the desk. From its depths, he fished out a large bag of chips and grabbed a handful to stuff his face with. "Y'know," he garbled and gestured vaguely with his crumb-dusted fingers. "Beomgyu, you know! You were there with me. It was that one lawyer guy who was found dead in his car beneath the bridge. That same note was taped to his windshield."

"Oh yeah," Beomgyu drawled, while Soobin shook his head with a sigh. The former then knocked his foot against the latter's shin. "Aye! You didn't even know it."

"Yeah, because I wasn't on that case," Soobin fired back. He finished off the rest of his bowl of cereal and set the empty ceramic in his lap before crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes, like his brothers', were lined beneath with heavy eye bags. Someone was supposed to be on patrol around the city right now, but neither of the three brothers were in any rush to get up. "So it's just one person going after these people then."

Yeonjun chewed his bottom lip. "Then we just gotta find the connection."

"Was the lawyer guy from a couple weeks ago Lee Sungjae's attorney?" Soobin asked.

Beomgyu grabbed a hold of the wireless keyboard on the desk and braced it upon his thighs. He pulled up an internet browser and typed in their inquiry. All three brothers made noises of disgruntlement; if the lawyer hadn't been Sungjae's attorney, then how were they connected? It was no secret that 99.9 percent of the population here in Gotham had some sort of shadow looming over their shoulder. It was almost impossible to get anywhere without the help of a corrupt figure, whether that be a mob boss like the Penguin or a loan shark with special strategies to get someone to pay up.

Either way, there would be lots of digging required.

"Let's start with Lee Sungjae and the lawyer's records,'' Soobin decided as he sat up in the chair. "We'll sort through phone records, acquire security footage of their movements, their texts, etcetera."

"I call none of those," Yeonjun said. When his younger brothers scowled at him, he raised both hands in feigned surrender with a giggle. "Fine, fine. You're both lookin' at me like I murdered your favorite puppy."

They remained silent.

"What, too soon?"

The basement headquarters suddenly erupted in a dull siren sound, and Beomgyu was swift to pull up a set of footage on one of the monitors. It displayed a section of the sky, a white spotlight circle cast against a massive, dark gray cumulus cloud with a distinct bat shape in the center—their call to action.

All three men were on their feet in an instant—keyboard and cereal bowl abandoned on the table, capes and utility belts clicked into place.

"Meet you losers there!" Yeonjun hollered as the cave filled with the revving roar of his motorcycle engine like a clap of thunder.

Soobin and Beomgyu hurried over to their respective cycles. "Hey, we're not done talking about Yn!" Soobin called to his younger brother.

Beomgyu flashed him a thin smile. "That's what you think!" And he sped away down the runway.

Soobin chuckled to himself, grinning. Then he revved his engine and launched himself after his brothers.

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @meosjinnn @hyunjaespresent-deobi @stayarmytinyzenmoa-l @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @soonyoungblr @loveliestfelix @zhaixiaowen @justanotherkpopstanlol @w3bqrl @kangfication @fluorescentloves @haechansbbg @super-btstrash-posts @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @mars101 @rikizm

series taglist: @winterchimez @mosviqu @boba-beom @strawbrinkofdeath @baek-at-it-again95 @todosmash

#txt x reader #choi yeonjun x reader #choi soobin x reader #choi beomgyu x reader #yeonjun x reader #beomgyu x reader #soobin x reader #txt oneshots #txt series #txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt drabbles #yeonjun imagines #yeonjun oneshot #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu oneshot #soobin imagines #soobin oneshot

[butchriptide]

From what I gather, people tend to dislike Riptide because he’s just kind of some guy. He’s just awfully average. He’s only really describable vaguely because his personality isn’t very loud or well-spoken for. Next to Tsunami, he ends up hitting kind of dull, simply because she’s louder and bolder and, for the duration of her book, has a lot of other, more important shit she has to be getting to.

Ultimately, though, I like Riptide as much as I do because of these elements. I think he’s an interesting balance to the characters presented in Book 2, and I think he’s incredibly interesting as a love interest to Tsunami.

Riptide doesn’t really seem to aspire for much; nothing like the grand, sweeping, war-ending efforts of the DoD. He joins the Talons for information on his dad, which is perfectly understandable given that he was a dragonet when he did it, had no reason to believe they were abusing children under a mountain somewhere, and was already orphaned for the crime of being related to his deadbeat father.

He’s uniquely hated by, and also works for, a Queen known for flying off the handle and brutalizing guards in the main foyer. His simplicity in response to horrific circumstance is frankly compelling to me.

The fact that he remains a generally sweet, amicable person is interesting simply because I’d argue he has every right to be so much more bitter than he is. The quiet half-lengths of his personality make sense for someone who kind of necessitates the background, when his boss would happily kill him without second thought if she found the given impulse at any moment. Tending to omit information is an understandable practice if you’re kind of expecting to live with the guillotine above your head.

Maybe I’m just aromantic, and so I’m missing some secret element to romance writing that all the allos are keeping from me, but I didn’t really need more of Ripnami to be sold of the dynamic. They’re young love, they’re allowed to be fast to me. They don’t have to be built to last, but I think they’re cute if they or for however long they do. And frankly, I think Book 2 is incredibly well paced. It’s a mystery narrative, there’s not much time to get her kisses in while Tsunami’s solving what’s up with that murder statue.

Riptide’s presence in the book did sell me on the two of them though. In direct contrast to Coral, where Tsunami is her own DAUGHTER, Riptide simply… Trusts Tsunami’s competency and ability. At every turn. Yet he keeps information from her, as previously mentioned, but in every case where she’s had to strike out on her own in that book, he’s simply gone, “Okay. Stay Safe. I Believe In You.”

When Coral’s the most other prevalent relationship in the Sea Kingdom at that point-beyond Anemone who’s baby leashed and isn’t even allowed much in the way of her own personal opinion with Coral almost always around-It’s so important for Tsunami to have someone who wholesale believed in her abilities. After being loomed by the constant guilt and questioning and doubt of the Arena and Starflight’s sudden shift in behavior, it’s especially important that Riptide always trusted her personal character at that.

I think it makes sense that the Talons deal wouldn’t be a dealbreaker for Tsunami. She’s brash and opinionated, not unreasonable. Riptide, as mentioned, joined the Talons as a dragonet, and was kept much in the dark about the details of the DoD. Tsunami’s not so hasty as to not understand where he’s coming from or be able to get over it, especially not about someone she comes to care about.

I especially like them because there’s nothing in Riptide’s simplicity that inherently asks Tsunami to “settle down”. Tsunami is not someone wanting for an easy life, and I think Riptide’s reworking of the Talons of Peace in junction with the Jade Academy makes a lot of sense. I understand that, Oh, Kids Book, returning readers will be so excited to see old characters in new series! But I do think Tsunami feels a little shoehorned in at the Academy, and I ultimately think her epilogue of Arc 1 being helping with the Talons effort would’ve made more sense; especially with how her outrage with the original Talons are so outspoken, a very “never let this be used to hurt anyone else like me” type ending for her would’ve been sweet I think. She doesn’t really ever seem the teaching type, not even when she’s actively trying to be in Arc 2.

I just think maybe people don’t give Riptide the time of day, which is unfortunate, because he’s one of my favorites. He doesn’t get much, but I think what we do see implicates a lot of interesting subtext to him.

All that said, he’s still better as a butch he/him lesbian, but that’s not because i think he’s bad as is I just am also a lesbian. hope this helps

#wings of fire #wof #riptide #wof riptide #riptide wof #ripnami #tsunami #woah. user ButchRiptide makings… a post about why xe likes riptide?!?!?!?! #analysis

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Some vampire John Wick headcanons please 🥺?

This has taken me long enough so lets just dive in

Warnings: mentions of blood, mentions of death, mentions of sex

Born in the early 1890s in Belarus. He fought in the first World War and was in his early twenties by that time.

Migrated to New York after the war and became an enforcer for the mob.

Vampire! John is not a hitman, he's a crime boss (it makes more sense to me, I'm not entertaining arguments lol)

He was turned in the late 1940s by his then girlfriend (later wife), Helen. By then John had already rose to the highest rungs of the mob.

Helen was later murdered in a revenge kill in the mid 1950s.

Tailored suits, Italian leather shoes, a collection of vintage muscle cars. He wears a pinky ring, which is relevant to nothing, its just a detail that I like.

Broody, stoic, short tempered.

Many years after his wife's passing, John meets you. Until then, he had refrained from romantic relationships above brief flings and one night stands.

Its the smell of your blood that attracts him at first; its sweet and alluring, almost like a perfume made from the crushed roses and honey.

When you two do come face to face, its very quiet but intense. You're ready to throw caution to the wind and John is practically ready to drain you.

Make no mistake, at the beginning, for him, its about blood. He keeps a steady rotation of a few select, clean, high end escorts to keep his thirst satisfied, but none of them are enough after he meets you. John needs to taste you.

You don't have a clue of his "true" nature, but you do really like him, so you make your own advances- you're actually the first one of you two to make a move (or so you think) and when John responds well, you're thrilled.

The first bite is an absolute shock to you, he has not disclosed who he really is, possibly because he had no intention of you even remembering the experience.

Your shock and fear though, elicits a reaction he was not expecting; he does not want you to be scared of him- suddenly, he doesn't want to betray you like that either. The man who has not cared for a woman in over sixty five years, all of a sudden, can not stand to lose a woman he's only known for a few months.

John comes clean, about everything

Instead of being scared, you're fascinated. This actually explains a lot; his sensitivity to sunlight, the way he seems to drink significantly more than anyone you've ever known without getting drunk, his adept knowledge of history, his effortless, physical strength, the old photographs of a woman that look too dated to be of the century. The coldness of his touch and the way it feels like his heart wasn't beating when he held you close.

You eventually let him "taste" you. Its a couple months after he tells you the truth, when part of you is desperately curious.

He has an admirable amount of self control, because even if he likens your blood to the most intoxicating combination of liquor and honey, he doesn't want to kill you.

After this, when some more trust is reestablished, it becomes a fairly regular, extremely intimate experience. Its almost as important to your- now committed- relationship as sex. The two even mingle frequently and its absolutely euphoric when it does; the feel of his mouth drawing essence from that perfect spot on your neck, while simultaneously, he fills you up and then some. The little sting and persistent pull, coupled with the tight burn and delicious friction (okay, I'm going to far now)

John is extremely protective and territorial and this comes from a multitude of reasons including the loss of Helen, the fact that because you're human you're even more vulnerable than she was, and because he can not stand the thought of another vampire wanting you the way he does. You're his and John does not share.

He will kill for you.

But he's also surprisingly loving and attentive. He never, ever lets you spend a day wondering how he feels about you.

Sex decades of accumulated wealth means that your want for nothing and have the world at your feet. You have reservations at the most exclusive restaurants and you probably don't remember what having a maxed out credit card feels like.

John also enjoys buying you gifts himself. Though, its debatable who your collection of lingerie is really for. Lets just say that John very much enjoys the look of you in lace.

John is woefully strong- superhuman strong- so he's extra careful with you. At first, he felt very guilty about those moments where he roughed you up a little too much during sex or feeding (or both) and those instances were often teaching moments for him, even if you repeatedly promised that you were okay.

John adores being older than you sometimes, particularly because it means that he can see that stunning look of wonder on your face when he tells you about his life and all the things he's done. Its been so long since he could share those parts of himself.

You're always eager to learn about his experiences and where he's originally from but try to not push sensitive subjects like the war and his wife.

Despite John being very willing to share at times, he's still a man of few words.

*This was getting way too long but I actually have so much more on Vampire!John, inculding the possibility of "turning" his SO. Its honestly an idea I'd love to flesh out so maybe one day I'll write something more detailed.

#john wick #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #john wick x reader #it took literally all my self restraint to not turn this into something much darker #vampire!John #headcanon tag