#criminal x detective

[gurugirl]

The Con Artist | Part 1*

Summary: You're a wanted criminal and when Harry Styles, the detective on the case, finally catches up to you he finds it difficult to resist your charms.

A/n: This is detective!harry x crimina!reader / y/n | This will be a short series (3-7? parts). The Con Artist Masterlist

6.7k words

Warning: Criminal activity detailed (drugging, stealing, conning), smut (oral sex)

◈ ◈ ◈

The first time you remember stealing anything was when you were about three years old. From what you recall, you were with your mother at a dollar store of some sort. On the bottom shelf in one of the aisles was a pretty mirrored compact. It snapped close with a satisfying click and opened up easily for your three-year-old hands and so you put it into your mother’s purse as she was bringing you out of the store.

Being three years old, though, you forgot all about the mirrored compact when she surprised you with a toy she bought for you. The next day she came across the stolen item and somehow, she knew you’d done it. Because maybe there had been some sort of pattern. You just can’t remember stealing before that day.

But then you started stealing clothes from the mall when you were older. Lip balm (you became fond of the Chanel lip balm in Light but frequently settled for a Lancôme or Clinique as they were usually easier to snatch up), candles (the expensive ones to make it worth your while), pens, and lighters. You stole anything small enough to be taken without anyone noticing.

The only time you ever got caught was when your mom found the mirrored case in her purse when you were three. Even now, 23 years later. Here you are, stealing for a living. The man lying on the bed you are standing next to is knocked out cold. You may or may not have slipped him a little something to send him off to sleepy time before he could take his pants off, but that was the game. He wanted something and so did you.

Yours was a simple grift. Straight men are easy. All you have to do is hang out in really nice clubs and bars near the nice neighborhoods. Dress a certain way. Talk a certain way. Compliment the man. Compliment him some more. Laugh at his attempt at flirting and play dumb. Definitely laugh at his jokes. Act dumb. Sit alone. Bat your lashes. That kind of bullshit.

The man would need to be rich, or if not rich, showy and cocky (because how fucking annoying is a showy cocky asshole with nothing to actually show for it?). You typically looked for a nice watch (Rolex is easy to spot, but the really expensive watches are Audemars Piguet and Patek Philippe). He’d need to be a little drunk. Or even desperate is fine. Sometimes drunk isn’t necessary. You just need to get him to take you to his home. Never to yours. Married men would suggest a hotel. And that could work too, under the right circumstances. And married men were special because they’d never report you.

Then, once you’re in his house you suggest a nightcap, a drink for your nerves you say (a lie because you don’t drink alcohol) and insist on making them yourself. Drop in enough crushed benzos and voila. The man thinks he’s about to get laid but he falls asleep fast and you steal his cash and his jewelry. And sometimes a few other things you can take with you on your way out the door.

Tonight’s meal is a married man but his wife is out of town. The “house” is in Hope Ranch but it’s more like a mansion. It’s massive and the guy is loaded. That’s all you care about.

You served him a gin and tonic with a lime wedge and 10 mg of crushed-up benzos. You poured yourself a tonic and chucked a lime in for good measure, so it looked like you were drinking too.

He brought you to his room after drinking his glass of nighty-night juice and you could tell it was taking effect. He fell asleep almost too quickly. But who were you to complain? His wallet was lying on the coffee table and his Rolex was an easy snag. You were out the door in less than an hour. He only had about $50 cash in his wallet but the Rolex would be worth around nine thousand dollars for you. You loved the dumbasses with the expensive watches the most. Rolexes are a dime a dozen. They’re the easiest to come by and the easiest to get rid of.

By the time you get back to your little studio, it’s past 3 am. You don’t live in the best part of LA but it’s also not bad. Koreatown has its moments. The supposedly haunted Gaylord Apartments studio has been your home for the last two years. You truly could afford something nicer but it’s hard to imagine paying more than you already do for rent. It’s a waste of money really. You’re living fine and saving your cash. You don’t want to be a thief all your life. Just for long enough to save up so you can go anywhere you want, buy a house for cash, and live out your days as an old maid who never found love. Because love seems like a pipe dream at this point.

Men suck. But then again, you’re not really much of a catch yourself. So ending up alone is probably your true calling. You’ll buy a bunch of books, get a few cats, maybe grow a garden and wear robes all day long. Drink cold juice and watch murder mysteries at night with your cats all curled up around you, and fall asleep on your couch because sleeping alone in your bed just sounds depressing. And maybe you’ll do some traveling. Who knows? You’ve amassed a decent amount of money. You’ve given yourself until 30 and then you’ll call it quits. Just a few more years.

At the Gaylord, you’re not allowed to have pets, but you can have fish. You crouch down to look into your aquarium and see that Buster and Barry are fine. They usually are. They’re pea puffers. Kind of cute really. But Buster killed his first mate, Brenda.  When you introduced Barry, Buster left him alone. Buster and Barry don’t usually interact which is why they get along. You had no idea that puffers could tend to be aggressive but when Brenda was found belly up in the 10-gallon tank one Thursday evening after you’d secured a nice Saint Laurent coat and a Royal Oak Piguet, you were quite disappointed. You’d had such a good night too. The Royal Oak was worth close to $60 thousand. And the coat was just an extra on your way out the door. But poor Brenda. Dead in a day.

You turned off their fish tank light, “Goodnight boys.”

At night, when you were alone in your bed you’d think about the things you’d done. You never really found guilt anytime you thought back. You did feel like what you were doing was wrong, though. You knew that much, you just didn’t feel that bad about any of it, though. You’d made yourself a nice small fortune and you did it doing something you loved. Why did you love stealing from unsuspecting idiot men?

Who knows?

You had a mostly-typical upbringing. Your mom and dad split when you were five and you saw your dad every other weekend like most of your friends with their dads.

Your mom was a good mom. She took care of you. Loved you. Protected you. Encouraged you.

You didn’t have an unusual childhood. Others who had it far worse turned out normal. You had no excuse. No trauma to point at. No mental health problems ran in the family. No vendetta against men. Nothing to prove.

You just liked it. There was a thrill that came with it. And the better you got at it, the more fun it was. And you loathed the idea of working a regular job somewhere earning a living wage. A living wage. What a joke. You were earning like a CEO and not once did you ever have to put out for anyone you didn’t want to. Everything was on your terms.

You could sleep in as late as you wanted. Skip a day of work if you chose, never needing to call anyone to tell them you were taking a sick day. You could do two in one day if you were on a roll. Or you could abandon ship if the man you started chatting up turned out to be someone you could actually see yourself fucking. Because you did draw the line there.

If you started to become interested in the guy, or he was attractive enough, and he invited you back to his place you would have a choice to make. You could stay the course, drug him, and then steal his watch and his money or you could just have a fun night with an attractive man at his place. You wouldn’t steal from someone you’d slept with. You had some moral boundaries.

You were nice, though. You weren’t like a bitch to anyone. But I guess ask any of the men you’d stolen from and they’d have a different mind about that. You had a small handful of friends. You didn’t like letting people get too close, though. For good reason. Because when you got close it became harder to hide your dark secret. People always asked what you did for a living. What an intrusive question to ask anyone. You always made up some lie about working online and inputting data for a medical corporation. Something that pointed to you making just enough money that would explain your nice clothes and expensive purses, but also that would have you home during the day.

Your best friend, Raechel knows your secret. Probably your mom as well. Also, Josh who buys your stolen goods but that’s a different story. But that’s it. In the whole wide world, you have one person that you’ve told directly what you do (again, not counting Josh). Because you couldn’t hide it anymore. And Raechel is still around. She’s your best friend. Now your mom, well, you never told her but she knows. She’s not dumb.

Bright and early the next morning, if you can consider 11:30 am bright and early, you headed to your dealer slash fence man, Josh, after shooting him a message that you were on your way.

You had with you the white dial Rolex Daytona you took off of whatever his name was the night before. Now, this watch is worth about $20,000 but Josh would take a big cut of the profit because he was the one going and selling the stolen item, he needed to make money from the deal too. Plus whoever he sold it to wouldn’t pay him the full $20,000 either, because they also needed to make a profit.

You met him in your usual spot. He took a look at the jewelry and searched for the model reference number to make sure of its value. Then you left with $8,500 in cash and a quarter ounce of Girl Scout Cookies (that’s a nice strain of marijuana bud to clarify).

The bank wouldn’t take big ass deposits like that at a time or there’d be some kind of flag on your account and it would get reported to the IRS (protocol), so you generally would only deposit $3,000 at a time. Which also meant you had a large stash of cash in your apartment at all times. You tried to space out the deposits. Had multiple bank accounts at different banks, and went to different branches in different locations but cash was difficult to work with at times. It was the only part of the job you hated. Dealing with all that cash. Especially when you preferred to save most of it. You usually bought yourself nice things, but most of your money you didn’t touch. You were serious about your future plan of buying a house for cash and getting lots of cats.

Tonight you planned on going to the Warwick again. The last time you were there was six months ago. You’d gotten a big hit with a B-list celebrity and you didn’t want to show your face around there for a while just in case he found you there or anyone recognized you somehow. Six months seemed like a good amount of time to wait.

You stopped at your favorite café and picked up a latte and scone to go. Then you walked to Liberty Park to drink and eat your breakfast slash lunch in the sunshine.

You wondered who would be at the club tonight. The Warwick was usually crawling with celebrities (lots of money). You knew how to handle them all. It really didn’t take much though. Look cute, act dumb. Usually. There were a few times you’d encountered a celebrity or wealthy man who was looking for someone with substance, but that wasn’t what you were going for. You searched for the ones who wanted one fun night and nothing more.

You were sitting on the concrete ledge near the sculpture and sipping your hot latte when a shadow appeared blocking the sun from your body. You looked up to see a tall man looking down at you. Instantly you sat up straight. He was very attractive.

“Hi… I was hoping you could point me in the direction of The Ritz Carlton. I seem to be lost…” he looked at his cell phone and then held its screen to your face and you laughed, placing your latte down next to you.

You stood up and smiled and noticed he didn’t have a watch on his wrist (old habit), “You’re definitely lost. The nearest Ritz is gonna be like a 45-minute walk from here. It’s that way,” you pointed in the direction of the 110, though it couldn’t be seen from where you were.

“Fuck. Well, thank you, I guess. I’m new here and went for a walk and found myself enjoying the sun and now here I am. Lost puppy in a big city.”

The man had thick, dark hair, seafoam green eyes with a dark green limbal ring, richly pigmented lips, and a jawline that could cut rock. And he was British. Clearly from out of town.

You held out your hand and introduced yourself and he quickly wrapped his big paw around yours and you saw the tattoo on his wrist. His clothes didn’t indicate that he was well-off. But sometimes it was hard to tell. Some rich guys didn’t give a fuck. This one didn’t. If he was, in fact, wealthy.

“Harry. Nice to meet you. S’hard finding a friendly face in a new city. Do you live here?”

“I do. Not far from here. What are you in town for, Harry?” You asked, keeping eye contact. You didn’t know if you should size him up for a job or see if you could get him to take you back to his hotel for a fuck. This guy looked like he could fuck. Tall and broad, deep voice, and big hands. A dimpled smile.

“Ahh, just work. Plan to be here for about a month. Staying at The Ritz off Olympic while I’m in town,” he smirked at you and that was all you needed to hear to know he was interested. Yeah, you’d fuck him.

“Is that so? For a month huh? Here, let me give you my number, ya know, in case you need anyone to show you around. A friendly face like you said…” you gestured toward his phone so you could put your number in and he unlocked it and opened up his messages app.

You were bold. You had no problem picking up a guy to fuck. You just needed to be somewhat straightforward. Your jobs were different. Playing coy was the game when they wanted to feel like they were in charge. But when it came to actually fucking someone, you were in charge and you wanted them to know it.

“Seems quite forward to give your number to a complete stranger, Y/n,” he spoke your name, wrapping his lips around the vowels in the most sensual way. That mouth of his could do some damage. You swallowed.

You laughed and shrugged, “Not really. It’s just a number. Now, what you do with it is up to you. If you’re bold, you’ll use it.”

Harry grinned at you and the way you nearly let your knees buckle when you saw his dimples was not a normal reaction. But Harry was gorgeous. You'd let him fuck you if he was into it. Absolutely. This man could get it from the top to the bottom. He was well-muscled and sturdy under his clothes. Something told you he’d have a big dick too and you’d love to let him use it on you.

You shook yourself of your thoughts and Harry cleared his throat, “Well, thank you. I’ll certainly consider calling you,” he lifted his cell phone upward as he spoke.

You were a little disappointed by his remark. Consider calling you? What the fuck? Maybe he wasn’t straight. Would explain why you found him attractive. All the hot ones were some shade of gay. But he was flirting with you... Wasn’t he?

Harry waved as he walked off and you sat back down to finish your latte and dry scone.

◈ ◈ ◈

You got yourself dolled up and tried to erase the way you were feeling annoyed that Harry hadn’t messaged you or called you. You gave him your number. You were rarely rejected. Unless he was gay… You laughed at yourself as you sprayed your hair to hold the style and then looked at your phone again. It was 9 pm. The perfect time to show up at the Warwick. It was time to work.

You were let in with no problem, despite the long line to get in. No cover for you. You got yourself a soda water with lemon and sauntered around the perimeter. Lots of groups tonight. Some of the guys watched you walk by. But you were specific. Precise about the men you worked. The young ones in the groups were probably spending more than they could afford to be there. Not your type. You moved along the lower room until you spotted a group of men sitting together. Now, these guys were job material. Men with money.

You neared them slowly, sipping your soda water until one of them looked up and saw you. You smiled at him and kept walking until you found a place to sit where you could be in the sight line of the man with whom you smiled. He had his eyes on you alright.

You’d give it ten minutes before heading their way. Just to see if he’d come to you first. Just to see if he was into feeling like he had the upper hand. Sometimes older men preferred more traditional roles and liked to be the aggressor. Oh, little did they know…

You swung your left leg over your right one, letting your dress ride up your thigh so he could see what you were working with. You smiled at him again and then looked away, pretending to be caught in the act.

But then suddenly someone sat down next to you, catching you off guard. You jerked your neck toward the intruder (this was not uncommon), ready to tell him to buzz off when you were met with the warm smile of the man you couldn’t stop thinking about.

Your look of disdain quickly turned to one of excitement and you couldn’t help the smile that crawled over your face at the sight of Harry. He was in a suit; his hair was styled just so with a thick curl falling over his forehead. He had rings on his fingers and he looked like he’d been drinking a little with dazed-out eyes on yours.

“Y/n. I didn’t expect to see you here,” his gaze dropped down to your dress and your thigh and then back up to your face.

You mimicked his display, dragging your eyes down his frame and back up to his handsome face, “It’s been a while since I’ve been out. Felt like a good night to have some fun.”

The man you’d scoped, was long forgotten as you and Harry began to chat. He was alone at Warwick. Like you. And he was hot. He was clearly a bit tipsy with the way he was so loose with touching your arm and your hand, the way he’d pause his eyes at your lips as you spoke.

The thing that really got you worked up was how he’d lean in to speak into your ear so you could hear him. It was necessary to do because the club was so loud, but you fucking loved having him so close you could smell him and feel his voice vibrating off your ear.

“You look amazing,” he said as he plucked at the hem of your short dress, his fingers brushing against the skin on your thigh as he did so. Probably on purpose. Definitely on purpose.

You decided he’d be worth the work raincheck. You’d let him fuck you. And it seemed like that’s just what he wanted when his eyes settled on yours and he looked like he wanted to devour you.

“Wanna get out of here?” You asked. You were a-okay with abandoning ship for a hot night with Harry. Work could wait. This man before you, flirting with you and watching your lips as you spoke was ripe for the taking. You didn’t want to miss the chance to try him out in the sack.

Just like he said, the taxi stopped at The Ritz-Carlton on Olympic and he took you up to his room. In the taxi on the way to his hotel, he scooped his arm behind your back and pulled you into his side, brushed your hair from your neck, and put his mouth next to your ear, “You sure you want to do this?”

Your breath hitched in your throat. Yeah, that happened. That never happens. Not to you. You were the one making men’s breath hitch. But Harry had some kind of natural charm about him that matched your own energy. A panty-dropper. But it helped that he was so goddamn fine with a deep British accent and dazzling eyes.

The room didn’t appear to have been slept in, but that’s probably due to the strict housekeeping staff taking care to clean up behind their guests.

You kicked your heels off near the door and Harry walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around your front. He kissed your neck first. You were admittedly caught off guard by his energy. He was quite forward and confident.

You leaned your head to the side and smiled when you felt him in your back, poking you with what you knew was going to be a big cock. He was already very turned on.

You turned in his arms to face him and slid your hands up to his shoulders and kept your eyes on his, “I don’t usually do things like this…” you spoke innocently.

Harry tilted his head to the side and smirked. The look on his face said he didn’t believe you, “Me neither.” You certainly didn’t believe him.

You lifted yourself upward on your toes and pressed your mouth to his. You had had enough of the back and forth. It was time to get down to it. Harry’s cock was hard and your panties were wet. That’s all that was necessary at that moment. Talk could wait.

Harry gripped your waist and walked you backward to his bed with his mouth attached to yours. You let go of his shoulders and slid yourself back onto the bed as he crawled after you. You grabbed his collar and pulled him down to you, lips locking together in haste.

Putting your leg over his hip you bucked yourself upward to feel his hard-on under his pants and you moaned at the bulk of him.

“Get your pants off, Harry,” you cooed as you palmed over him. Harry sat back and removed his shirt and there was nothing in you that was disappointed by what you saw. More dark tattoos covering his chest and his arms. His body was masculine and sculpted exactly to your preference. Firm with smooth skin and a smattering of hair at his pecs and under his belly button.

You moved your arms behind your back and unzipped your dress and let it fall down your arms. You were wearing a special bra that was sticky on your breasts, which you’d forgotten about until that moment. It was difficult to remove in one quick go because the sticky inside was super sticky so it stayed put. You sat up and turned away from him as he began to unbuckle his belt and undo his pants.

Pulling the bra away from your skin slowly you looked over your shoulder and Harry was looking at you with his brows scrunched in confusion. You laughed and when you’d removed the bra lifted it upward so he could see, “It’s a sticky bra and it’s awkward to take off. Didn’t want you to see it coming off. It’s less magical that way.”

Harry spit out a laugh as he visually inspected the bra and he nodded, “Okay. If you say so,” taking the bra from your hand and tossing it on the bed. Harry was only in black briefs when he put his hands up to cup your jaw and pulled you in for a kiss. He pushed you back into the bed with his lips smoothing against yours and he settled himself in between your legs. You were left in only your nude thong. Harry’s briefs-covered cock was pressed right over your pussy. He was thick. You knew he was something special down there. He rocked down over you and licked into your mouth. His solid arms kept his torso held up while his hips were pressed down over you.

You bent your right leg at the knee and spread a bit for him to access you better and he moaned.

“You’re getting me wet even through your underwear. Need something, Y/n?” His cocky smirk was warranted. You hated a cocky man but Harry had every reason to be. He was delectable.

“I need you, Harry. S’why I’m here right now,” you spoke in your sultriest voice and licked at the seam of his lips. Harry brought his mouth down slowly, his warm lips pecking and licking a cherished path down toward your breasts. He palmed and sucked at them. You arched your back and panted. He wasn’t going easy on your nipples as he pulled each into his mouth and swirled his tongue around your areola. His nips caused you to moan loudly into the room.

He moved his head further down and you knew what was coming. But in all honesty, you hadn’t shaved in a while. You were full-on bush down there. You didn’t expect to be getting laid tonight. You were on a job when you saw Harry at the club. You got all dolled up, shaved your legs, and did what needed to be done. But no more than what was necessary.

When he got to your hips you braced yourself for him to see your pussy in its natural state. He put his fingers into the band at your hips and looked up at you as he slid them down slowly. You craned your neck up to see what his expression was when he finally took you in.

He saw your bush. You saw him pause at your pussy but he continued dragging your panties downward. You held your breath when he put himself back between your legs and lowered his face to your inner thigh, planting a hot kiss very close to the curve of where your ass and your cunt met.

“Can I?” He looked up at you, his mouth parted in lust. You weren’t going to say no to head. If he wanted to get down there with your wild garden of desire and wrap his mouth around your clit you’d let him.

“Yes,” you smiled but felt yourself blush a little at the idea of being munched on while you’re pussy-scaping was nonexistent.

But he didn’t seem to care at all. He put his lips over your mound and went to town. Like all the way into town and back home again, then back to the strip so he could have dinner and seconds. He found all the parts that needed to be found under your pubic hair. You settled yourself back into the pillow and relaxed. Harry was a man who liked pussy clearly. He wasn’t deterred by the bush one bit.

Your clit was being given sufficient attention when he began to use his fingers in your crease, softly stroking you up and down until he placed his middle finger right at your hole. He prodded it in a bit and you looked down at him between your thighs. He had his eyes closed, his tongue lapping at you then you watched as his lips found your clit and he pulled at it, sucking you into his mouth and you gasped. He was good. This man was hot and he was good at giving head?

“Fuck, Harry! Right there…” you moaned your words, needing to let him know to keep up with what he was doing. He was going to get you off fast this way.

Harry moaned into your pussy and opened his eyes when he heard you and he nuzzled in further, shaking his head left to right quickly and slurping your clit just as he inserted a second finger. You felt it go in. Harry’s fingers were long and he was getting the job done nicely.

You arched your back at the distinct feeling of heat traveling from your groin outward. You slid one of your hands down and placed your fingers into his thick hair. Something you’d wanted to do since you first saw him earlier in the day. You just had no idea it would be happening while he was expertly eating you out in his hotel room at the Ritz.

You bucked upward toward him and panted, “I’m gonna come, Harry… please….” Your voice was shaky and your orgasm was beginning to blossom. Harry was making a mess of his face with your arousal as he dug in further, one hand holding you down while his other kept his fingers stroking your walls just like you needed.

The snap fuzzed up your hearing for a moment. Your ears rang as you came in his mouth, your body stiffening and jolting with each stroke of his tongue. You were sure you were speaking but your mouth and your brain didn’t meet up as you quivered under the man who was lapping at your pussy like there was no hair in the way.

You opened your eyes when Harry kissed both sides of your hips and sat back. He looked down at you with a grin as your chest was rising and falling quickly, “Holy shit. That was the fastest I’ve ever come from… that.”

Harry chuckled and got off the bed. He walked toward the dresser and you could see his hard cock pressing against the front of his dark briefs. He grabbed two glasses and a bottle of water and brought them to the bed. Pouring a glass for himself and for you. He sat down next to you as you sat up and handed you the glass, which you happily guzzled down. Harry did the same. You hoped he wasn’t washing away the taste of your hairy pussy. That would be embarrassing.

“Sorry. About the lack of trimming. I really didn’t expect to show anyone the goods tonight,” you laughed. It was so ridiculous for you to be apologizing for that. It was natural for most women to have hair on their crotch. Just like it was for men. You weren’t sure why you were apologizing. Maybe it was because Harry was so incredibly attractive.

Harry’s brows pinched together and he frowned, “Really? I mean, I don’t care about the hair, but you weren’t thinking you were gonna laid tonight? Looking like that?”

You shook your head, “No. Truly.”

“Well, you have a beautiful pussy. I doubt anyone would ever kick you out of bed for going au natural. Doesn’t bother me.”

You smiled at him and leaned forward to brush the back of your hand over his cock, “What about you? Do your trim?” You smirked.

Harry laughed through his nose and took your glass, placing his and yours on the side table before covering your hand with his and pressing your palm down on his lengthy cock. He brought his other hand up to you, his fingers at your neck and thumb over your cheek when he leaned in to kiss you.

When he backed away from the kiss he looked down to where he had your palm pressed over him, “Why don’t you check.”

You let out a laugh of disbelief but smiled and took the top band of his underwear in your hands and pulled at it, lowering the material and seeing the smattering of hair at his low stomach turn into a darker, thatch before his cock sprung out. The cock was a total distraction. You had forgotten all about the hair when you saw his large organ standing out.

Harry lifted his hips and helped you pull his underwear down. He was certainly nicely built. That was for sure.

You smiled at him and then looked back down at the masterpiece between his legs and leaned in to kiss the tip. Harry moved back, putting his arms behind him to give you space to worship him.

You heard him inhale a sharp breath when your lips came into contact with the tip of his crown and then you looked up at him, “May I?”

Harry nodded quickly and you stuck your tongue out to lick him up and down. You had a lot of area to cover with his penis but you managed to lick him from base to tip all around. He was very hard in your hand. Heavy and thick. You stuck your tongue softly into the slit at his head and looked up at him. He had his eyes closed and his mouth parted.

Just as you wrapped your lips around his tip and swirled your tongue over his frenulum he jolted his hips and gasped, “Wait, god… hold on…” his hand was at the back of your neck, pulling you off.

You looked up at him and then sat back, causing his hand to fall away from your neck.

“I’m not going to assume you wanted to have sex, but I kind of wanted to,” he kept his dark eyes on you.

You hated giving blow jobs if you were honest and Harry’s cock was going to cause some damage to your tonsils you could already tell. That monster might not even fit quite well enough for you to really get the job done anyway.

“So, you don’t want a blow job?” You queried, just to be sure.

“I love a good blow job, but…” he looked down and laughed as he shook his head and then set his eyes back on yours with a goofy grin, “this,” he gestured toward his crotch, “tends to take a little training. Not the easiest man to suck off.”

You raised your brows and scoffed, “So, you’re saying that you think your cock is so fat that I’d have trouble taking it down my throat and you’re giving me an easy out and offering to fuck me with that instead of choking me with it?”

Harry barked out a laugh and nodded, “Well, I guess you could put it that way.”

“Thank God, because that thing is quite daunting. Would rather have it in my vagina than my throat, so thank you for that,” you couldn’t believe this man, but he wasn’t wrong. In all honesty, he probably got used to this spiel. It kind of sounded like he’d said it all before.

“So you do want to have sex?” Harry repeated to be sure.

You rolled your eyes and climbed over his thighs, pushing at his chest to bring his back down to the mattress. You straddled his hips and put your unshaven pussy over his cock and then kissed him as your answer. You rolled your hips up and down and Harry grabbed your ass and guided you up and down along his shaft.

There was a lot of girth to rub yourself on with him so your clit was being pressed into on each stroke. Harry moaned into your mouth and pressed you down harder over him as he rocked upward, pressing himself between your slick folds.

“Come on…” he breathed out, “I’ve got a condom,” he said and nudged you up. You stayed in his lap as he leaned over and pulled out a condom from the side table. You found it interesting that he had a condom there being that this was a hotel room. You knew the pattern of men staying in hotels.

Condoms would typically be kept in the luggage or a wallet. Unless the man was expecting company… But you decided to let it go. So what if he was expecting company? Maybe he planned on getting lucky tonight when he went out and thought ahead by putting condoms conveniently in the side table (which is odd for a man to think ahead like that). A woman, now she would think ahead and put condoms in the side table because women think about things like that. Men don’t. Not normally. It’s not a big deal, but it’s also out of character for a man staying in a hotel that he only very recently checked into.

“You okay?” Harry asked you, making you realize you were stuck in your head a bit.

“Oh… yeah. I’m totally good,” you nodded feeling a bit like you were missing something important. Like you were being forewarned of something by the tiny revelation you just had.

You took a breath and tried to push the sudden inexplicable feeling you had down. You wanted him to fuck you. Of course, you did. But what was that feeling you were getting? This sense that something was off? You knew to trust your senses. You had a good read on people and something was not quite right. And you saw him twice in one day? In LA of all places? A strange man from out of town? Yeah… something was off.

You put your hands on Harry’s shoulders and frowned, “I’m… sorry…” you pinched your brows together as you slid off of his lap, “I think I should go.”

Part 2

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[thepenultimateword]

Not That Special

"Good evening."

Detective cursed loudly, tea splattering the wall as they whipped around to face the thief lounging, ankle crossed over the knee, on their sofa. "What are you-- How did you get in?"

"Key."

"What key? There is no other key, I have the only set."

"Ah, the only set you knew of. I asked your landlord for the spares when you moved in. He thinks we're married."

Detective let that sink in a moment before forcing their mouth shut and running an exasperated hand down their face. "Alright. Ignoring that for now. Why are you here? I could have you arrested with one phone call."

"Oh, please don't do that. I'd have to make run for it, and I'm really trying to stay off the streets right now." Detective raised their eyebrows inquiringly, and they continued, "I'm on the downlow. A recent target really did not like being robbed. Two of my places are being watched, and I would not like to risk the third. You see I'm rather attached to my skin."

They slid the back of their hand down their cheek, turning their head haughtily to the side, almost like an invitation to admire them.

"So you decided you'd put me in danger?" Detective said.

Thief scoffed. "Nobody even knows who you are, let alone that I crash here in my off afternoons."

"You what?"

"Landlord thinks we're married, remember? You think that was a one-lie assumption? Keep up."

Detective had to sit down. Everything sort of felt like it was spinning out of control. Before they could think better of it they'd sunk down to the cushion on Thief's left and ducked their head between their knees with a long groan.

"I'm going to have to inform them I'm very much single. Then I'll have to change the locks. Probably change all my passwords--who knows where you've been snooping. Then there's the police."

Thief reached over their back and began massaging their neck. "Why. go through the stress? It's just a few measly days. I'll even return my set of the keys. As for the police, why is any of their business?"

Detective didn't have the energy to swat them away. The day had been exhausting enough all on it's own, and now all this...

Villain hit a knot, and they practically puddled at its gentle unraveling.

"Maybe because they're paying me to catch you? Besides, they already think I treat you specially. If it got out you were in my house and I didn't report it--"

"Like you said, if it got out I was in your house. Many times at that. With an eye witness. You really think they're going to believe I got in on my own?" Thief leaned against their shoulder, breath hot in Detective's ear. "After all. I am special."

Detective jerked out of their grip, their stomach dropping to their toes as they wheeled on Thief's pouted lips and innocent-seeming dark eyes. "Are you blackmailing me?"

Thief surged forward, wrapping their arms around Detective's neck. The scent of rosemary and mint wafted up from their hair. "Only a little. And only if you call someone."

Detective moved to shove them off, but Thief clung tight.

"I would like you to leave," Detective said, squeezing hard on Thief's wrists. "Now."

Thief still did not unlock. "I told you, I'm in trouble!"

"So? That's your thing! You love danger. Your court it so often your practically a suitor."

"But I went too far." Thief shifted a little. Detective didn't notice they'd climbed into their lap until their legs were wrapped as tightly around their waist as their arms were around their neck. "I robbed Corvina Sedero."

Just the name made Detective shiver. Dragging hidden criminals into the light was one thing. But the ones that stood in plain sight were quite another. Detective had been young when they realized that mere knowledge of wrongdoing was not enough. Evidence was one manacle and decent law enforcement the other, and Corvina Sedero with all her reputation remained chain-free. The rumor was that she skinned the people who crossed her. Detective had never taken it as hyperbole.

"If she catches me..." Thief drew out a hairbreadth from Detective's face, dark eyes shining. "I'm scared."

Detective probably would have taken it for a lie if they couldn't feel the rapid pound of Thief's heart against their chest. For a moment, they considered making the call anyway, telling Thief that the safest place for them was behind bars. But even if Thief didn't run for it, Detective doubted any prison was truly outside the reach of Corvina's claws.

"A few days," they sighed.

"Really?"

"But we come up with another solution in the meantime."

"Of course, it's not as if I planned on moving in." Thief snuggled against Detective's chest, limbs loosening into less of a death grip and into more of a real embrace. "I knew I could trust you."

Detective jolted a little. That was not a good thing. A Thief should not feel comfortable with the person actively trying to jail them. Yet they couldn't stop the warmth flooding their chest cavity. "Don't get used to it. I'm still telling my landlord I'm not married."

Thief did not argue.

"You're not going to say no? Tell me what a mistake I'd be making?"

Their only reply was soft breathing.

Detective flicked their gaze to Thief's face, eyes closed and tucked snuggly against their shoulder. They must have been as exhausted as Detective, holding on for confirmation before finally letting themselves drift off. Detective couldn't imagine how much running they must have done, how many dead ends they faced, before they got here.

Their arms hovered awkwardly over the criminal's thin back, stuck between ideas of guiding their wiry figure to the couch cushions and holding them back. They'd once read that hugging made the body release the oxytocin hormone to combat anxiety, and Thief probably could use as little anxiety as possible. But that didn't mean Detective needed to be the one to do it. The weighted blanket on their bed probably would do just as well.

Detective braced one palm against the couch back and gingerly rose to their feet. They turned off lights as they went, brain growing drowsier out of habit with the dark hall and spattering of wall lights ahead. They'd tuck Thief in and then collapse on the sofa.

It was just one night.

It wasn't wrong if they weren't in the same room.

And these were extenuating circumstances.

Anyone would be swayed.

Thief was not special.

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#thief x detective #detective x criminal #detective #writblr #writeblr #writing community #writers of tumblr #fiction #creative writing #enemies to lovers #writing snippet #this was going to be a prompt #but then the story just kept unfurling #hero x villan

[tooncraze]

DAMN YOU @bajingoarts DAMN YOU

Y’all their stuff is so amazing I can’t even- and CRIPES THEIR WRITING-

Pic below is a spoiler for their A03 fic, Year of The Rat, that you should definitely if you love The Great Mouse Detective but don’t think it was gay enough. (Because let’s face it, basil and Ratigan were FRUITY AF) (also the fic has warnings as well but it is for a mature audience) :)

#yall Dawson leaves for FIVE MINUTES #the great mouse detective #basil rathbone #professor ratigan #sketch #digital art #fanart #GAY MICE #GAY RATS #This movie is criminally underrated #basil x ratigan

[maybeitsalivescribbles]

Villaintine's Day 2024 - Crash Meeting

Prompt: Evil Scheme 03 @black-rose-events

Detective who has to investigate a string of crimes and ends up discovering more about Villain than they ever thought they would (could be an identity reveal or a bigger plot or a “the Villain is actually the good guy and X is actually the antagonist)

(tw car crash mention)

It did not go according to plan.

Detective twitched a little, their fingers fidgeting. There was an unconscious part of their mind that was annoyed at not being able to clasp their hands in front of them, as they were zip-tied behind their back. It helped them think, and in that moment they needed that. To be honest, they were in a slight state of shock. Being caught hadn’t much to do with it.

A couple of weeks ago, there had been a robbery in their neighborhood. It’d happened in a garage. During the night, the cars in repair had been all gone. Detective liked the people that worked there. They were a regular, and the staff never sighed or rolled their eyes every time they presented a very bumpy car that had its windows broken too many times to count, flat tires at least every month, and once had a very long knife stuck in the hood. This kind of petty thievery really made their gears grind, especially from those of one overpowered over-the-top Villains. Of course it was a villain, you didn’t need to be Sherlock Holmes to know that. Could you actually believe that someone chose to do that with their abilities? Couldn’t they get a job or something? Detective had no special power, expect perhaps an innate gift to find themself in trouble, but it didn’t matter one bit. Villain had hurt someone they knew, they had to be stopped. Simple as that. Of course the hero agency had been contacted, but the Heroes were much too busy with crimes that “actually mattered” (yes, it was what they’d said on the phone.) Being unchecked, Villain hadn’t stopped there. Their people had broken into private properties just to steal cars, and only cars. It was like the beginning of a bad joke. This was getting really worrying, but the Hero agency didn’t care. As long as it didn’t hurt their sponsors, Detective supposed everything was fine and dandy. Well, not in their book.

It could have gone well. It could have gone very well. Success had been on the tip of their fingers, honestly. They’d gone undercover and had succeeded to find Villain’s headquarters, as well as all the codes to the doors. They’d sent all these findings to the Hero’s agency, just in case, and then they’d met Villain themself. Detective had scoffed at first at – well, everything. The costume, the theatrics, the melodrama. And then, they’d laid down their eyes...and they had frozen. They’d been quiet and still while the henchmen had dragged them away. Even now it was hard to snap out of it. They had no idea how long they’d been stuck in here.

Villain opened the door. The prisoner jumped on their feet. The day before, they would have tried a good old-fashioned headbutt, but not now. Not after what they’d seen. They stared as Villain put their fingertips together in reflection.

“Do you know who am I?” Detective asked abruptly.

Villain smirked:

“Are you going to try that on me? You’re in no position to bluff. You’re a nobody living in a bad neighborhood. That you have ties with the hero agency changes nothing. I doubt that they’ll come to your rescue.”

“No, I mean- Do you not remember me at all? Or are you just pretending?”

That made Villain pause. They examined their prisoner, but something about Detective’s attitude made gloating strangely difficult. Intrigued, even slightly amused, they tilted their head:

“Why should I?”

Detective closed their eyes:

“Okay. Hmm- okay. Do you remember a car crash from fifteen years ago?”

“There are a lot of car crashes in the world, Detective.”

“Not like that one. A blue old-fashioned car pushed another car off the road, and it crashed. It wasn’t an accident. There were four victims: the father, the mother, and two kids. One of them was a dumb twelve year-old. It was me. I got away with a few broken bones.”

“All of this is fascinating, but-”

“I don’t have a lot of memories of this day. I just have pictures, flashes. I saw the other car - how fast it was, how deliberately it bumped into us – the scream of my parents - the hand of my sibling emerging out of the rubble-”

“Are you accusing me?”

“-But I remember the next day very clearly. The grown-ups told me everyone else had died.”

“See, you’ve got this the wrong way. I am the one who is supposed to tell you my tragic origin story.”

“I think I am telling yours. You have a birth mark on your left hand that looks like a pentagram. My sibling had the same.”

There was a silence.

“Don’t you remember?" asked Detective with something akin to desperation. "Don’t you remember at all?”

Villain staggered on their feet. Unable to catch them up, Detective knelt next to them when they grabbed the wall, their knees buckling under them.

“The car,” Villain finally whispered. “Did it look – Was it a sedan?”

“I think so.”

“I see it. I see it all the time in my dreams.”

They wiped their forehead with a shaking hand:

“I-I thought you were an imaginary friend. No one told me I had a real sibling.”

“What happened to you?”

Villain avoided their gaze:

“Bad things.”

They lapsed into silence again, until Detective cleared their throat:

“Can you, uh-”

Villain pulled out a knife and cut the zip-ties that bound Detective’s hands. They stayed like this for a few tense seconds, barely glancing at each other, until Villain held out a tentative hand. Detective took a step closer and reeled them into their arms. Villain’s spine went rigid at first, but Detective awkwardly patted their back until they slowly relaxed.

“Am I the older sibling?” asked Villain.

“You wish. You’re two years younger. Why are you stealing cars?”

“Oh, it was going to be a very sophisticated scheme. Everyone thinks so anyway. But I think- I’m really looking for that blue car. I can’t think of something else. I keep getting back to it.”

“Do you want to look together?”

“I-Maybe?”

“Good.” Detective pressed them tighter. “Because I’m not going to let anything happen to you again. And I really, really want to know why everyone lied to us.”

*

Back to Hero x Villain Masterlist

#villaintine's day 2024 #hero x villain #villain and hero #hero villain community #hero and villain #heroes and villains #writeblr #writers on tumblr #original fiction #my writing #writing snippet #writing drabble #writing dialogue #creative writing #thief x detective #detective x criminal #platonic relationships #detective #finally it’s been so long since I’ve included one ! #they both clasp their hands when they need to think

[fadedrainbowbookshelves]

@sweetest-honeybee's crime!au contains many awesome things, including the murder husbands!

#welcome home #welcome home fanart #fanart of fanart? #frank frankly #eddie dear #frank x eddie #Human!Puppets #They're SO CUTE I absolutely fell in love with the au and Bee is a god #Stumbled on it one day and it's fun. Still have so much lore to get through though! #So enjoy these two. Friendly helpful detective man and his Very Very Very Angry enby husband who offs criminals like reverse batman #Take a humble doodle because I couldn't get their human designs out of my head #Credit to Bee! The designs aren't mine but it IS my favorite Human!Frank design #Unaffiliated with the incredible Welcome Home creation I'm just a fan having fun!

[theknightmarket]

I still think about Chase Me a lot and it.

Hmgh. 🙏

Not a lot of Murdock content that goes into his potential motives.

"You're a special case."

In which Murdock's cat and mouse chase comes to an end. TW: cursing, mention of murder Pages: 16 - Words: 6,500

[Requests: OPEN]

They got him.

They got him.

They’d trapped him in a corner and wrapped the cuffs around his wrists. He was sitting in a cell, chained to the desk, waiting to be interrogated.

If they hadn’t called you, you would have forced your way into the police department anyway, regulations be damned. But they were smart, or maybe they just remembered the last time you were kept from the end of your case – either way, you had been writing up a very particular, very private report when your phone began to ring. You nearly didn’t answer it, too determined to finish off the last paragraph of the page before someone could interrupt, but it buzzed once, twice, thrice, and then you grabbed the thing and pressed the call button. Your mouth hung open at the half-way point of a cursing out when the officer who called you spurted out the very words that kept ringing through your head like a church bell.

They got him.

They had captured the Serotonin Serial Killer, and he was waiting in interrogation room C to be questioned by a detective. You made the forty-five-minute drive into twenty, flashed your badge at the receptionist, and didn’t say a word to anyone as you dashed through the hallways of the bustling building. Officers pressed themselves against the wall to avoid being barreled into, knowing you were on the warpath just from the look on your face. Though, it was no secret where you were headed. Your little stint with the man of the hour was kept between the two of you, but people had picked up on your sudden determination to solve the cases. When you worked sixteen-hour shifts, whispers took your place in leaving your office building and returning to your apartment. Rumors spread, some nice, some rude, all patents of the news agency; apparently one of his victims was your sister or uncle or second cousin thrice removed, because it gave you a motive and you were obviously the most important in the case to grant one. Never mind the guy slitting the public’s throats, the detective who was doing their job had to have a personal reason.

But your gripes with the press and other detectives were nothing you were focused on; distantly, you heard the taps of your shoes against the clean tiles towards the room, the times new-roman C blazing against the white wallpaper outside of a locked door.

You opened it without a second thought.

“It’s you.”

“You sound surprised, sweetheart.”

Murdock sat there, as you expected, chained, as you expected, grinning from ear to ear, as you expected. You imagined he was the first to be smiling so wide in the cold steel of a police chair, bound to the table in front of him. He was still adorned in his usual outfit, a red turtleneck and black trench coat, with blood splatters barely noticeable even in the scrutinous glaring of energy-efficient lights. The only thing that put you ill at ease was the crack in his sunglasses. It brewed a pit in the bottom of your stomach as your thoughts fled to assumptions that only helped to deepen it.

But you didn’t verbalize your suspicions that someone had put a hand on the man before you, the only indication that it crossed your mind being the heightening of your shoulders and an overtaking scowl. Instead, you simply locked the door behind you and dropped into the chair across from him. “You got caught,” you stated bluntly, his eyes following your descent, and it felt wrong to be able to see part of his iris.

“I did,” Murdock admitted. “Well done, you cuffed me.”

“No, I didn’t.”

You couldn’t keep the venom out of your tone, but you didn’t entirely want to. What you wanted to do was find the officer who caught him, ask them how they did it, and then find out exactly how his glasses got shattered so you could repay the favor. You assumed the plan came from your innate distaste of the police force and the rest of the detectives – you relied on the idea so that the thought could pass your mind without worry for the real sentiment behind it. And it almost did.

Murdock, helpfully, brought it back. “Jealous that you’re not the only detective in my life?”

“And if I am?”

“I’d appreciate it.” Damn his charming smile. He leaned forward in his seat, balancing his head on one of his hands, and flashed his grin at you like some kind of reward. It made you tense up, aided by the chill of the metal chair but by no means outweighed by it. You didn’t like this. The uncertainty of your emotions. In your last encounter, you were so certain of your anger towards him and his constant evading of capture, and yet there you were, with the man himself in front of you and definitely captured, fighting a losing battle against your own mind to convince yourself you weren’t swayed by him.

“Good thing I’m not, then.” You ignored the spark in Murdock’s eyes that hinted at his doubt. “How’d you get caught?”

“I killed somebody.” You almost laughed. It wasn’t as though he would be in the same room as you for shoplifting given his track record, but you let him continue without interruption, “Jemimah Pims. Fraud. I got spotted going into her office by a receptionist.”

You knew the name. Pims was big in public service chains that weren’t fast-food; she’d always hated the things, so she pulled a complete 180 and threw herself into high-class wine bars and five-star restaurants. Go figure, she didn’t start those businesses with legal money in her pocket, and that was where Murdock came in. The issue was that you didn’t believe that was his place. You’d seen him take revenge for affairs, prejudiced, miscarriages of justice – not money laundering. And getting a witness?

He must have misinterpreted your skeptical expression, because he followed himself up with, “She’s perfectly fine. Probably clearing up a couple of meetings that are going to go unattended.”

That didn’t help quell your suspicions. Of course, the receptionist was indeed alive, she had been the one to report him, after all, but that wasn’t the part you doubted.

“Let me rephrase that; why’d you get caught?”

You hit the nail on the head. The missing shard of his glasses was enough for you to see his iris, and that was enough for you to see his true feelings. That must have been why he kept them on so much, but they weren’t helping him now. Any excuse he might have made was wiped off the drawing board, and he knew that, too.

Almost reluctantly, he answered, “You’ve been awfully busy lately.”

“You can’t just kill someone because you want attention.” You interrupted a useless continuation that he didn’t even get to start. Of course, you had been busy in recent weeks, but that meant you had enough on your plate already without him piling it sky high.

A few days after your interaction on the roof of the theater, you were handed a case file from the higher-ups. Manila folder, top secret stamp, the whole cliché that made you want to bash your head into your desk. Your actual desk, mind you, the one that had been slightly bloodied by James Pratt. Everything was cleared up relatively fast, the funeral was scheduled for two months’ time, and you were back to work like it had never happened, like there was never a body of a friend draining into the floorboards. That folder, though, pushed it further back into the recesses of your mind; it was a political assassination attempt that you were shocked it landed on your task list. However, it was definitely there, and it was definitely high up on the list, so much so that you barely had time for yourself, let alone the serial killer watching you from another office building’s fourth floor. You supposed that Murdock reached his boiling point quicker than you.

One of your hands leapt to the bridge of your nose while the other ran through your hair. This job was pure stress without a serial killer giving you bodies because he wanted you to look at him.

“It worked, didn’t it?”

He stretched out his hands in an attempt at a shrug, but the cuffs limited how far his dramatics could go. To compensate, he brought his ankles up to cross them over the table. You could already feel the headache brewing, and the incompetence of the cops around you was certainly not helping. Hadn’t they read a single guidebook or, hell, watched a crime movie? It didn’t have to be one of the good ones, either, for them to figure it out that the criminal needed to be chained by the arms and legs to the table. You were so, so close to wringing someone’s neck – whether that was Murdock or the incompetent police. Really, anyone within a twenty-foot radius was at risk.

But you couldn’t, no matter how much your hands itched at the thought. Instead, you took a long, deep breath, in and out and in and out. A pitiful chuckle bubbled up in your throat. “Jealous that you’re not the only serial killer in my life?” you asked, somewhere between sarcastic and genuine.

“Yes.”

Too bad.

“So, what now?” you asked, to which you only got a raised eyebrow in response. “You’re in a police station, Serotonin.” His pout became more noticeable. “How do you plan to get out of this one?”

“Who says I plan to get out of it?”

“You wouldn’t sacrifice your entire career to get some one-on-one time with me. You’re not stupid.”

There was a glint of pride peeking out from the edge of the sunglasses. The rest reflected back onto him, but it was enough for you to see, notice, and feel the rush of blood to your cheeks and ears. Your moral compass told you it was wrong, behind wrong, to be happy with his silent praise, but that thing was long since broken. You wouldn’t trust it to tell you the ethics of kicking a child into the road to stop a wayward fruit cart.

“Hmm, well, as much as I’d like to, you’re right; I can’t just abandon it all for one person, no matter how gorgeous they are.” You had half a mind to find an ice bucket to dunk yourself in. If only to yourself, you would admit you didn’t get complimented often – on your work or otherwise. It wasn’t for a lack of anything, but the general verdict wherever you went was to never initiate conversation unless someone didn’t like the look of their head on their shoulders. It happened often in the detective department, and that was where you spent the majority of your time – the rest was in your apartment, alone and whiling away hours until you got back to work.

But you weren’t allowed to dwell on that depressing thought for much long, before Murdock started talking again, leaning as far back into his chair as the cuffs let him go. “There are moles in the police, sweetheart,” he teased, “you said it yourself. Not one person here can’t be bought or blackmailed. The boys standing outside this two-way mirror, for example.” He turned to smile in the direction of that very mirror. You couldn’t see the officers outside, obviously, but you could imagine them sweating through their blue jackets, not only because they were caught but because Murdock had that look. The one that told whoever he was staring at that this would be their last day, like making eye contact with the grim reaper. Except instead of a bleached skull and hollow pits, he was a beautiful masterpiece come to coax you into the ‘sweet embrace of death’, as the saying went.

“I can taste the corruption from here. It didn’t take long to find out about the affairs and gambling.”

“I thought your whole thing was indiscriminatory vigilante justice. Moles don’t count?”

Vividly, the body of Pratt sprang to your mind. Still warm on the floor of your office. Head turned so that his check was mashed into against the grain. Eyes glassy like a frosted window.

Even though his gaze returned to you, you felt his words pierce the air as knives thrown to the mirror. “Oh, they do. I’ll kill them when I’m done here.”

Murdock was happy with himself. Proud of his work that rewarded him with this scene – two police officers paling from behind a wall, a detective sitting across him wearing a blush and a scowl, and himself haphazardly chained to the table. He wouldn’t have traded it for anything else. He sometimes, on the days when things were, the days when he was positioning old bodies or stalking new ones, when he had time to himself, he wondered what it the outcome would have been had it not been you assigned to his case. He couldn’t imagine the boredom; he didn’t give a damn about the press or the public, whether they were scared of him or in awe. When he first started this whole thing, he hadn’t even cared about the people chasing him, and, mostly, he still didn’t. But then there was you. A grizzled detective with a chip on their shoulder and enough experience with the law to sate thirty juniors. Murdock loved his job, but you made it that little bit more interesting.

Only, he could have done without your next question.

“Do I count?”

His head shifted to stare directly at you, his shattered focus pulled into one place, your expression of curiosity, doubt, a tinge of daring.

You continued, that tell-me-I’m-wrong look overtaking the rest of the emotions, “I let you get away with de Gaille and Lochlin. Doesn’t that make me a killer by association?”

Technically, he supposed it did. After all, he’d killed people for less. However, that wasn’t meant to be your ending. You weren’t supposed to be a pig on a hook in the butcher’s backroom.

“You’re a special case, love.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re going to help me get out.”

Your immediate thought was to resist. Mouth open to tell him a stern no and legs ready to storm from the room, you were sure Murdock saw, but he didn’t act. He just watched as your shoulders heightened and your grimace deepened. He just watched as you stayed seated, though the discomfort showed. 

“Your boys can’t do that?” you asked.

He shook his head. “They’re at the window because two officers have to be. They won’t go near me with a ten-foot pole, or without a foot of concrete between us.” A light chuckle bled into his words, accompanied by the flash of an eye and the corner of his lip perking up. “You, though, have been much, much closer. And you have nothing for me to play on, except for a little bit of affection.”

“Affection, is that what it is?” the scoff escaped you before you processed his words, and it was just as well. You didn’t want a serial killer to know he was – on the most basic level and not even that much and only if you wanted to actually define it and you certainly didn’t – correct. You did feel something for the man sitting before you, leaning casually back in the steel chair of the interrogation room, but you wouldn’t admit it aloud.

“Romantic, sexual, aesthetic, whatever your attraction is. It stops you from letting me fry, as you like to put it.”

“It stops me from letting you die, but that’s where it ends. Locking you up, I’m fine with that.” You were getting faster, pitifully desperate to prove to him, to yourself, to the two officers standing outside that you were not tied to him in any way. You had no reservations about keeping him behind bars. Despite that, it wasn’t the thought at the forefront of your mind – pride and place belonged to the reassurance that it wasn’t that simple. For one second, you assumed that you did enjoy his company and looking at him and his charismatic whisperings that set something aflame in your heart. You still couldn’t abandon everything to run after this maniac. You couldn’t. You couldn’t.

“Are you?”

Were you?

A horrible feeling of dread washed over you, thrown to-and-fro in the rush of the river Styx, your lungs filled with water, and you struggled to keep afloat. It wasn’t that simple. It couldn’t be. There were so many other factors at play. Your life, his life, his job, shit, your job. You were a detective sent to wrap the handcuffs around Murdock’s wrists.

As if he sensed your crumbling façade of calm, he pushed, “You’ll have to pick a side, of course.” You hated to admit it, but the choice would be easy, if you could convince yourself to acknowledge that you did have a choice. Left or right. You didn’t have to consider the nuance of it all, no matter how much you wanted to. The answer your heart made for you blazed in your mind, but trails of fog tried to cover it with questions and consequences.

“Sitting on the fence isn’t an option.” His tone was strangely gentle, like coaxing an injured animal from their hiding place. “If you let me out or if you lug me to a cell yourself, I’ll know where you stand. Hell, I’ll even give you a week to change your mind. But you can’t just leave and wash your hands of it all.”

Responsibility. That was the thing at the crux of his decisions. Who lived and who died all depended on responsibility. The corrupt decided their own sentences when they played both sides off against each other. Police and aristocracy, politicians and the church. The hypocrites were the ones with their necks on the block, and Murdock wielded the axe. He hoped that you would see that, and maybe, if you wanted to, find a handle for yourself.

The distance between the two of you seemed to close. The desk turned to mist. The walls around you felt as though they’d constricted without you noticing.

“Think about it, love.” You didn’t need to think, that was the worst part. “You can go back to your boring job where you aren’t respected or cared about, and you can file reports about a teenager’s accidental arson while the bigger cases are picked off by fat cats who just want the reputation and money.” You didn’t need to be convinced. “Or you can come with me and use justice how it should be used. How you want to use it.”

Heart thundering in your chest so loud you thought it might burst – but then you wouldn’t have to make a decision so maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad – the rest of your body stayed paralyzed with fear. Not of Murdock, of course not, but of the fact that you wanted to go with him. In a split second, you’d made your choice, and you didn’t need his fancy words to encourage it. You weren’t some injured animal, you were a detective who had lost faith in the system, leaving only a struggle with your morals and upbringing to contest with, two things that were fading fast from your mind.

Meanwhile, Murdock struggled with the twitch of his hand that compelled him to comfort you. He had never been a sympathetic person – most murderers weren’t – but he didn’t like this look on you. At least, he liked it much less than the vivid rage you so often sported, particularly when it was for him. This was a distressed look that he didn’t mean to cause. Give him the fireworks and the explosions and the sparks, not the earthquakes that rocked the very place he stood and threatened to knock him off his feet entirely. Deep in his chest, he wanted to exchange that expression for anything else, but he found him options vastly limited by the cuffs. His mouth dropped open, seconds away from offering kind words, but they had done enough.

Luckily, that enough was in the direction that he wanted.

You didn’t speak as you got up from your chair and walked to the door. You lifted your hand but switched courses quickly, aiming not for the handle but for the ring of keys hanging on the wall next to it. One of them would unlock the handcuffs. One of them would set Murdock free and damn you to a life of crime in one movement. You had witnesses, after all, and your own conscience wouldn’t let you be a traitor to either side.

When you were close enough, he reached out to you. A hand caressed down your arm as far as the metal would let him go. His contact sparked against your skin while the clang of the cuffs hitting the table rang out in the room like a church bell. When he was free, he did the most unexpected thing you would ever believe he chose to do.

Murdock wrapped an arm around your waist and shifted the hand that was on your arm around your shoulder. He was surprisingly cozy, like a warm-blooded animal, in the din of the interrogation room. As you stood frozen, half from his action and half from the reality of your own setting in, he tightened his grip and dipped his head into the crook of your neck.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he mumbled, words muted by his closeness to you, but you didn’t mind. You didn’t mind one bit. In fact, slowly, you drew your arms around him, too. 

“When we get home, we’re talking about this.”

He pulled back at that, barely enough for you to properly hear his question of, “Home?”

It went unanswered, but he had already gotten a sentence out of you, and that was much more than he could had ever expected. You propped your hands against his chest to subtly move him further from you, eyes cast down and expression downcast.

“Stay here.”

He followed your order easily, considering it was just him standing in the room while you left into the hallway. Both of you knew it would take just one turn of the key to lock him inside, a couple of steps to tell someone that he needed to be locked up as soon as possible, a quick course of action that would relieve you of all your guilt. Murdock wouldn’t hold you to it, because you still chose a side. It just wouldn’t be the one he wanted.

When you returned with a hat and jacket – and, unbeknownst to him, the image of those two officers paralyzed with fear seared into your mind’s eye – he felt his shoulders relax and a pleasant smile take over his lips. Pleasant wasn’t a word often used to describe anything to do with Murdock, but you had a strange way of breaking the norms, and he didn’t mind it one bit. He even let you manipulate his arms like a doll into the flimsy material before you dropped the cap onto his head. It dipped over his forehead slightly, so you adjusted it until you could just see his eyes out of the shadow.

“You don’t say a word until we’re out of this building and into my car,” you ordered, and Murdock thought it best to acquiesce. It was the least he could do after this whole situation that he put you in.

Briefly, he nodded. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He had.

But the next course of action was simple; you left the keys on the hook as you opened the door, unceremoniously shoved Murdock by the shoulder into the hallway, and lead him into the entrance. You had never been more appreciative of the other officers’ reactions to you. Seeing them jump out of your direct path like they’d been set on fire was good for you, if not practically – given you were escorting a serial killer out of the precinct – then emotionally. Nobody tried to look at the man in step by your side, mostly because they were too afraid to cast their gaze anywhere near you. Before, you might have felt disappointed at the reaction, but, if Murdock was right, they were no better than you.

You really hoped he was right.

You made it to your car promptly, and he was soon to round the hood to get into the passenger seat while you swung the driver’s door open. You almost drove off without looking in your back seat, your hand still on the keys in your ignition when you noticed the pile of equipment in the middle of the bench. Duct-tape, zip-ties and lo-and-behold, your original gun. It was as clean as the day Murdock had taken it from you.

Speaking of – you turned to look at the man next to you, who wore the most sheepish expression you would have imagined fit on him.

 “Seriously?” you asked.

“I wanted to be prepared in case you put up a fight.”

“You were going to kidnap me?”

“Only for a day or two.” Your eyes narrowed, and he took that as a sign to rush to his own defense. “Just long enough for you to come around. I would never kill you.”

How comforting. It was weird that the thought was half-genuine; you were indeed glad that he had never planned on ending your life.

Sarcastic or not, you muttered a, “thanks,” as you pulled out from your parking space and started the journey home.

Murdock was a surprisingly quiet travelling companion. You expected him to be chatting your ear off about his latest kills, their crimes, their lives, their deaths, etcetera, etcetera. The only thing noise he made, though, was his humming along to the radio’s soft rock. Some instrumental had him tapping his fingers along the window’s edge in its rhythm. If you hadn’t been driving away from a police interrogation, it might have been sweet. And even if you were…

But the magic didn’t last forever. You pulled into your apartment’s parking lot, the three scuffed paint lines amongst those alleyway dumpsters and loose beer cans constituting for one, and you turned off the engine. You didn’t live in a nice part of town, you knew that, and you weren’t ashamed. Sure, you spent most of your time in your office, but that wasn’t because you were embarrassed to live in the building. It was just easier for you, to the point that your apartment was more of a second home, like the grandparents’ that you used to spend every second Wednesday at.

You locked your car door when you were out, then made your way to Murdock’s side.

“This is your place?” he asked, shutting his own door behind him.

“What, you’ve never seen it before?”

“I steered clear of your intimate life.”

The image of the equipment that was still in your backseat had you raising an eyebrow. “Oh, that’s where you draw the line?”

“I didn’t want to rush it.” You didn’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes, nor did you stop yourself from grabbing Murdock’s hand and tugging him towards the front of the building. From the outside, it looked like your standard run-down-rat-dream, but you’d taken the liberty of sprucing up your own rooms. It lessened the fear in your heart about showing your new partner – in crime.

Said man shot a look down to your hands. “No, I much prefer you doing this out of your own volition.”

The lobby of your building served its purpose. It had a reception table, a door to the breaker box and other things up-keep, and a staircase that led to the rest of the floors. There was only one other door on this level, which was for the owner’s place, but he was either hardly ever there or rotting on his couch, based on how little you saw of him. Another plus was that there were no cameras, but that was only a positive for right now. You would certainly be more worried about smuggling in a murderer had there been sufficient security measures.

So, with the ease of this mission, you took Murdock up to your apartment relatively easily. The other occupants of the building stayed put in their rooms as you went up the steps, before you stopped on the fifth floor. It took a second for you to fish your keys out of your pocket, but, when you had and you’d twisted them into the lock, Murdock let out a little whistle.

You were proud of the work you’d done to fix the place up. When you had first bought it, it was more of a trash dump than a living space – you hadn’t made it three steps without tripping on a bunch of tied up newspapers, which got you into the immediate mindset for clearing it up. The cleaning was over by the first day, the repairs by the third, and the refurbishment by the end of the week. All on your dime, mind you, but you were fine with that. It just meant that if and when you moved out, you would take everything with you.

Now, it was made into an actual home with crimson wallpaper, a plush couch, a bookcase in the corner and, the thing that Murdock took most notice of, an empty fish tank.

You closed the door behind Murdock as he sashayed to the centre of your front room.

“I didn’t see you as a fish owner,” he commented.

“I’m not.” You hung your jacket on the rack beside you. “Never spent enough time here to look after them.”

It was a sad tale you never liked to tell. Three betta fish and two weeks at the office was the most you let slip when people asked.

But, instead of asking, Murdock flopped back onto the cushions behind him and tucked his hands underneath his head. “Cozy.”

You were able to see his closed eyes when you sat on the coffee table. He looked peaceful, if you could ever call him peaceful. For a moment, you thought he might have checked out early and fell asleep.

His voice nearly startled you, but it only made you squint your eyes and cross your arms on your knees. “You wanted to talk,” he prompted.

“What’s the arrangement now?”

“I assume this is a one-bedroom and I don’t like sleeping on the couch.” He opened his eyes only to wink with the one you could see between the cracks of the glass.

You admonished him firmly. “Murdock.” For you, this was a turning point in your entire life. You didn’t believe in that second chance after death – not that you imagined you would get a good one after this – so you needed to make this count.

“There we go,” he whispered, a smug tone made by you finally saying his real name aloud.

As much as you’d like to continue his banter, easier now that you could actually talk to him in the privacy of your own home, you needed to be secure in your thought process. “Am I quitting my job?”

“Yes.” Blunt, but effective. That was better for you. “But you still have a week to mull it over. Not that I think you’ve made the wrong choice—” His hand jumped back to where it had once been in yours, “—You can do more work out here than you ever could as a detective.”

Whether that was true or not, you both believed it. Murdock had since his first kill, and you were steadily getting further and further from the fence.

“So, I’m joining you.”

“If you feel so inclined.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Whatever you like.”

“You’re being vague.”

“Sweetheart, this is your life.” As if to punctuate his point, he brought you closer by your hand. Your heart thudded in your chest while the memories from your first one-on-one flooded back. “You can come out stalking with me or go off on your own.”

Deep breath in, deep breath out. He was right. You assured yourself that, yes, this was your life. And you’d chosen to spend it taking the law into your own hands.

Now, your questions were for the simple act of asking questions. You needed time to process it, and listening to Murdock talk was surprisingly helpful. “Then why pull me off the force?”

“I saw what they were doing with you. You told me. I certainly won’t take credit for your work, and you’re not restrained by paperwork or legalities. I just wanted to open you up to more effective opportunities.” He leaned closer, almost out of his seat. “And, as much as I’ve loved our game of cat and mouse, it’s hard to carry on a relationship when you run the risk of shooting me anytime we meet. Although, I do love the danger. Complicated, isn’t it?”

“Not really.”

When you’d first become a detective, you would have never imagined that your career would end like this. Shot in the line of duty, punched a higher up, retired at a nice, old age to a farm in the countryside. Those were the scenarios you’d thought up all those years ago. And yet, you liked this outcome. It filled you with some kind of excitement when you thought about finally dealing with the other detectives you’d seen. And Murdock, oh, Murdock, he was your favorite part.

That was why you didn’t need any encouragement to dive forward and connect your lips with his. He was immediately receptive to the kiss, using his hand to pull you towards him. All the stress of joining a murderer melted away with the contact. Sparks danced along your skin where he drew his other hand from your arm to your shoulder to your neck. Undoubtably, you were touch-starved, you’d known that for a while, and that made the fire grow quicker than you thought it would. The dance you’d been doing with each other for months was nothing in comparison to the dance of your lips. It was less infuriating for you, and more prideful for Murdock. The little sounds that escaped your mouth as you shifted to get more comfortable gave him a boost to his ego that he really didn’t need. Still, he smiled while you pushed deeper. 

This was his prize. You would never admit it, but Murdock knew that you knew that he won. He wasn’t sitting pretty in a cell, he was sitting pretty on your couch, with a view, not of iron bars, but of a gorgeous detective who had practically pledged their life to him. He leaned back just an inch to breath, letting you do the same, in order to get a good look at you.

The breath was worth nothing when you knocked it out of him, anyway. Disheveled was a good look on you.

“I’ve made my choice,” you muttered, “and I don’t intend on going back on it now.” That statement made his heart quicken, more than fleeing any crime scene could ever cause.

His curiosity was piqued when you straightened your back and looked towards the bookcase.

You got to your feet as you said, “Oh, that means I can show you something.”

Murdock watched you rush to where you were looking. You grazed a hand across the dusty surface, eyes skipping through the spines to find the thing you were searching for. When you turned around again, Murdock saw not a book, as he would have guessed, but a manilla folder.

After your rooftop meeting, you had done some research. You used to tell yourself it was to keep tabs on the other detectives, so that you could possibly guess who Murdock would go after first. Now, you admitted that it was just to dig up some dirt.

You fell back next to Murdock on the couch, bringing a foot onto the coffee table. The folder was tossed open in your hands by the weight of the papers inside, and there were a lot of them, each separated with a tab. One name, one last name, was written per tab.

It didn’t take long for him to figure out what this was.

“Oh, I love you,” he sighed as he flipped through some of the documents. It was a dream come true for him. The background check was the most boring part of the process, he much preferred the chase. With you, he had gotten all of his information from talking to you, and he only stayed entertained because it was you. In your hands was the golden ticket to avoid all of that messy business.

Murdock was so happy that you chased him.

“I love you, too,” you replied, bringing a hand up to grab at his jawline. If it were any other moment, he might have teased you, but he was too busy falling in love with you, as if the cat and mouse schtick hadn’t been enough for him already. He was looking forward to getting your claws back. 

“So,” he whispered into the minimal gap between you, “Pierce or Vanderbilt first?”

You dropped your head, hitting his lips with a light laugh. It was the first time that you wondered what your life had become in a grateful sense.

[I don't actually think that this was a request, but I also think of Murdock way too much to only have one fic about him. Hence... you get this. I hope you enjoyed <3!]

#theknightmarket #fanfiction #markiplier egos #writing #markiplier egos x reader #markiplier #one shots #x reader #murdock x reader #murdock #iswm #iswm murdock #also guess who just remembered they have an inbox #detective x criminal

[solthewizard]

detective james potter and detective remus lupin being added to case where they're chasing after the infamous black family

may or may not elaborate

#detective au #starseeker #sunchaser #rosekiller #jegulus #wolfstar #remus x sirius #reggie black #regulus black #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #the ancient and most noble house of black #the house of black #criminal au #marauders era #marauders #can you tell im drunk #barty crouch jr

[sunwarmed-ash]

could you imagine the carnage if I put Johnlock on here???

#max polls #kiss kiss bang bang #21 jumpstreet #true detective #detroit become human #criminal minds #white collar #hot fuzz #lets be cops #rust x marty #jenko x schmidt #gay perry #harry lockhart #gay perry x harry lockhart #ryan x justin #morreid #peter burke x neal caffrey #peter x neal #neal caffery #peter burke #rustin cohle #rust cohle #marty hart #marty x rust #derek morgan #spencer reid #derek x spencer #hankcon #honnor #hank anderson

[bullet-prooflove]

How about this for either Alden or Bobby:

“you’re more than just a one night stand”

You don’t talk about what happened at your brother’s engagement party.

The fact that Bobby had taken you to bed that night, made you see God.

It’s a one-night thing, you think when the two of you sit across from each other in the precinct. A little wine, a little music, a little dancing. You’d both got lost in the moment.

The thing is…

It’s the best sex you’ve had in your life.

You’ve never met someone so attuned to your needs, your wants, your desires. When you look at him, you can’t help but think of his firm, heated form pressing against yours, his mouth whispering those sweet, honied words in your ear.

It’s on the way out that he catches up with you. You have your gym bag slung over your shoulder as you head towards your car.

“We should talk about last night.” He murmurs as he falls into step with you.

“I think you made it pretty clear it was just a one-night thing when you disappeared this morning.” You remind him, hitting the button to unlock your car.

He deserves that. He’d slipped from the sheets in the early hours of the morning, no note no explanation. The nursing home upstate had called him, his mom was having a bad reaction to the medication he was on. He would have mentioned it this morning, but the bullpen was crowded, and he didn’t want anyone overhearing your business.

The NYPD isn’t kind to women who sleep with other officers, he’d get a slap on the back, and you’d get a reputation. It had been excruciating, waiting out the day but he would never do anything that would jeopardise your career. You mean too much to him.

“You’re more than a just one-night stand to me.” He tells you, his ducking his head so he can read the expression on your features.  “You must know that.”

There’s such an earnestness in him that you can’t help but feel yourself thaw.

“I haven’t been with anyone since Michael.” You find yourself telling him. “I’m not… I don’t know how things work.”

You’re talking about your ex-husband, the one who cheated on you, the one who’d tried to seduce you last night when you were there with Bobby. That’s what had started this whole thing, the thought of that man taking you to bed, making you his own again. It had unleashed something inside of Bobby, something primal and raw. When you’d kissed him at the bar, he’d lost all sense of control. He’d ended up going down on you at the venue, your dress hiked up over your hips, your fingers tugging at his curls as he fucked you with his tongue. He’d taken you home after that, undressing you with eager fingertips and an urgent mouth.

He wants that again, he wants to spend his nights exploring your body, learning all the ways in which he can make you say his name.

“How about we get dinner tonight?” He asks you, the edges of his mouth twitching up into a smile. “I’m sure the two of us can figure it out.”

Love Bobby? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

@id1ehands @darqchilddaydreamz @words-and-seeds @malindacath @malevolent-muse @trublu2u @yezzyyae @kmc1989

#bobby goren #bobby goren x reader #bobby goren x you #goren #goren x reader #goren x you #robert goren #law and order criminal intent #detective goren #criminal intent #robert goren x reader #robert goren x you

[mr-laveau]

In the NeXus household, we believe our hot private eye boyfriend and our cowboy boyfriend are both poly and they're so very gay. As it should be.

This art is bonus art from the latest episode of my series, NeXus which you can find here! If you wanna see the episode in question, go here!

#mr. laveau #mr. laveau's art gallery #nexus #nexus art #nexus khaleed #nexus Joseph #nexus khaleed locke #khaleed x joseph #gay cowboy #gay art #private eyes #detective/criminal #gay men #gay guys #audio rp #asmr roleplay #asmr rp #audio fiction #audio drama #audio #boyfriend asmr #asmr boyfriend #POV: your cowboy boyfriend and detective boyfriend make out #kiss #gay kiss #original characters #original fiction #original character #original content #ocs

[gurugirl]

The Forbidden (Completed Series)

stepbrother!harry - in which Harry and you meet six months before your parents are married and there’s immediate sexual tension that neither of you have the power to resist but things are tricky and quite messy

Mint Chocolate Chip (Completed Series)

in which the attractive older man that frequents the ice cream shop you work at has been making dark plans for you and when he finally gets you where he wants you, you’re easier to break than he imagined - dark!Harry content

The Con Artist (Completed Series)

detective!harry x criminal!reader

You're a wanted criminal and when Harry Styles, the detective on the case, finally catches up to you he finds it difficult to resist your charms.

Forgive Me, Father (Completed Series)

soft dom priest!harry x subby!reader

Harry is a priest with a dark secret but he's got a big heart and he's looking for someone special to share it with. When Y/n confesses her sins, he thinks she might just be the one.

The Arrangement (Completed Series)

sugardaddy dom!harry x subby!reader

Based on this request - Harry's wife proposes that he find a mistress to meet his needs in the bedroom as she is no longer willing. His wife has 2 rules: The first is that he finds a professional, and the second is that no feelings are to be involved. But both of those rules are thrown out the window when he meets Y/n.

A Good Boy (Completed Series)

stepson!harry x stepmom!reader (both adults)

Harry's got the hots for his young stepmom and she's pretty fond of him too.But they're both trying really hard to be good.Loosely based on this ask.

A Balancing Act (Completed Series)

this fic is commissioned by @cinnamonone (thank you!! xoxo): Y/n is a successful artist with a good head on her shoulders and Harry is a famous popstar in therapy. Navigating a relationship with someone as famous and adored as Harry isn't an easy task but Harry is desperate to make it work once and for all. famous!harry x plus size!reader

Just For Tonight (Completed Series)

this fic is anon commissioned (thank you!! xoxo): Harry spots an angel in the crowd and he can't keep his eyes off of her. And, as if by some cosmic pull, he can't help but ask her backstage. But it's only going to be just for tonight. Or is it? famous!harry x reader

The Unicorn (Completed Series)

Based on this & this. 3 part very mini-series. You nanny for the Styles, but Harry and his wife would like to offer you another position. Everyone gets more than they bargained for. dad!harry x nanny!reader

Can We Start Over ? (Completed Series)

this 5 part series is commissioned by @justfattiethings (thank you!! xoxo): From the first day you and Harry meet, your relationship is beyond complicated. A one night stand leads to hurt feelings and then a job opportunity that you simply can't pass up is offered. But can you handle working for a man like him? enemies to lovers

Ex-Boyfriend's Dad!Harry (in progress)

Harry's your ex-boyfriend's hot dad. But it gets more complicated than just that.

#harry styles #harry styles masterlist #firstpost #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #famous!harry #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry styles fan fiction #stepson!harry #stepmom!reader #priest!harry #priestrry #sugardaddy!harry #sugar daddy!harry #ceo!harry #rich!harry #dom!harry #sub!reader #subby reader #detective!harry #cop!harry #criminal!reader #stepbrother!harry #stepbro!harry #harry styles fiction #harry styles x yn

[rigg647]

my masterlist! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

key making a masterlist?? crazy right. ANYWAY i will mostly write female reader but i may make exceptions for certain requests!

SAW ―୨୧⋆ ˚

Mark Hoffman

hoffman hcs where reader has a babyface!

protective uncle hoffman hcs!

mark and peter with clingy s/o!

Adam Stanheight (coming soon!)

Amanda Young (coming soon!)

Lynn Denlon (coming soon!)

Peter Strahm

foolish one au

mark and peter with clingy s/o!

SCREAM ―୨୧⋆ ˚

Quinn Bailey (coming soon!)

Anika Kayoko (coming soon!)

Chad Meeks Martin

chad with a swiftie girlfriend!

Mindy Meeks Martin (coming soon!)

STAND ALONE CHARACTERS ―୨୧⋆ ˚

Kenny Lacos (picket fences)

kenny lacos fluff hcs!

kenny lacos nsfw alphabet!

Specs Fisher (insidious) (coming soon!)

Derek Morgan (criminal minds) (coming soon!)

Spencer Reid (criminal minds) (coming soon!)

BLURBS && STAND ALONE MASTERLISTS ―୨୧⋆ ˚

‘eras by era’ masterlist

‘it’s you’ masterlist!

#mark hoffman saw #detective mark hoffman #costas mandylor #mark hoffman x reader #mark hoffman #scream #adam stanheight #adam faulkner stanheight #amanda young #lynn denlon #peter strahm #quinn bailey #anika kayoko #chad meeks martin #mindy meeks martin #picket fences #insidious #specs fisher #criminal minds #derek morgan #spencer reid

[nina-scribbles]

I've been wanting to do a spoof "comic book opening page" for a while for him... so voila!~ Detective Roger's on the case! 🔎

#oc art #nina-scribbles #detective roger #tumblr REALLY crunched the quality on this one T^T so pls click to see full quality!!! <3 #1950s aesthetic #film noir #detective oc #detective x criminal #i love him so bad #scrunglo

[ifimforgotten]

im advertising my super cool murder mystery kazula story (that now has a 2nd chapter woohoo) because im awesome and if drpoisonoaky (and like several other people but i only know you okay) can do it i can too

#azula #katara #azutara #kazula #murder mystery #detective x criminal #detective katara #professor azula #age g4p #sort of it's only by like 5 years #fanfic #atla #avatar the last airbender #tom tom

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Dance with me, Darlin’

Description; Beau Arlen x Reader - After a long case, Beau gets you to open up to him about what’s really been going on. 

Warning: Criminal Minds level Violence, mentions of death etc. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When you had first made it to Big Sky, it had been...a journey. Going from working as just a street cop in Ohio to heading back home to Virginia to work as a Homicide detective for a while, to then heading to work with the FBI in their Behavioural Analysis Unit for a while to just six months ago getting a call saying they had a more...calming job for you in Montana. Big Sky, to be more precise. 

But that was just the bigger journey of life. The car ride into Big Sky was also kinda hectic. 

You had hit multiple pieces of traffic along the way. You had dealt with at least two empty tanks - mostly because of the traffic. And then your car had finally broke down outside of a Private Investigator’s office. 

God, that felt like a life time ago. 

You, with annoyance clear in your aura, got out of the car. The door slammed a little too hard than you had wished it to behind you, but you couldn’t concentrate on that right now. 

At least your home that you were renting wasn’t that far. Maybe a 10 mintue walk?

“Screw you.”

“Is everything okay?”

You turned around to see a dark haired woman and a blonde one stood side by side, clearly just having come from the building in front of you. 

“Yeah.” The words came out as both relief and annoyance. “Just this stupid thing. I’ve got extra fuel in the back.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” 

You looked back to her from the trunk of your car. 

“I’m Cassie, by the way. This is Jenny.” You shook their hands.

“Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

The cloud of annoyance had now grown sparse, slowly developing into plain tiredness as you flipped the cap off the fuel tank. 

“Yeah,” you sighed. “like I said; this stupid thing. Traffic all the way coming up here...it’s a freaking nightmare.”

“Where are you travelling from?” Jenny asked. 

“Uh...Virginia.” you answered. But it wouldn’t have really mattered what you had said since she was round the front of your car checking out your plates. 

To be honest, you couldn’t blame her. Some wild stranger breaks down in front of your building? You’d be curious and cautious, too. 

“I’m...uh...I’m meant to be starting a new job in-” you checked your watch. Oh, crap. “In a couple of hours.”

“Where are you starting?”

“Police department.” you answered, chucking the closed and empty fuel container back into the trunk and closing the top. 

“Oh, I’m deputy Sheriff.” Jenny answered. 

“Jenny...Hoyt.” you then looked up to the building sign. Dewell and Hoyt. “God, I-I should have made the connection. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” she smiled. “It’s been a long drive.”

“About four days.” you added. “I don’t fly. I know it’s easier but...I don’t like it.”

“You’re scared of flying?”

“Maybe a little.” 

Even the conversation about planes made you on edge. 

“Well, you’re lucky. Most things you’ll need are within driving distance.”

You smiled. “Great.”

“I’m just about to head to the station. You can follow me up. They’re doing something on the main road so you’ll have to take the back ones.”

“Okay.” you answered. “Well, it was nice to meet you.”

“You too.” Cassie smiled. “I’m sure we’ll see one another again, soon.”

“Probably.” you agreed. 

You’d heard a couple of stories about Jenny and Cassie in the last couple of months before you made the transfer. All good. Mostly badass. 

“You’ll get to meet our Sheriff but I have to warn you, he’s a chatty one.”

You smiled. “Kinda gathered.” You had been on the phone twice in total with Sheriff Beau Arlen. Both were pleasent experiences. He seemed liked a good man, and a good Sheriff. You explained all of this to Jenny and Cassie. 

By the time you had made it to the Police Department you had already fallen in love with Deputy Poppernak. He was a nice change from the seriously-stern-oak-tree-shoved-up-their-asses cops you’d dealt with in your time. Most of them believed they were Agents at the FBI and had the same power as judges in court. 

And it was nice to have a Sheriff who clearly understood his job but still managed to find the light in certain situations. 

Working with the BAU and as a cop had shown you how terrible some of them could be at their jobs. How they didn’t actually want the job or how they only took it so they could seem powerful compared to everyone else. 

It wasn’t long before you began to feel like you fitted in, in Big Sky. 

Whenever you had time, you’d go and hang out with Jenny and Cassie at the Boot Heel - Beau joining 80% of the time. Or you were with Denise in Dewell and Hoyt. She’d tell you all the gossip that was going on in town over a lasanga or tacos. And then, if you weren’t at home on your own, you’d be with Popp in the Police Department. He’d tell you all about his family and fishing whenever you both had to go through boring paperwork. 

But that wasn’t to say you’d all had your fair share of dangerous situation. 

There had been a couple of cases from three homicides to kidnappings. Your expertise in Behavioural Analysis came in handy on most cases. It gave the department an opportunity to see the crime from another point of view. One they hadn’t fully had before. 

But, in recent weeks one case had been getting to you. And that was something they all could see. 

From the moment the case came in, your blood had frozen over. It felt all too similar. All too familiar. And when Beau had to pull an old file - a file you had seen too many times to count - that was when the shift fully set in. 

Three girls dead. Three more taken in the space of a few weeks. And one of those three died in a ‘fire’ the night before. 

For weeks, you worked day and night with the rest of the team. At first, you did everything in your power to avoid the topic. To avoid the case. But you couldn’t. 

And that had all come to a head just a few hours ago. 

Finally! Freaking finally! He’d been outsmarted. Cornered. 

But you were the only one there. 

And you froze. 

All those years. All those nightmares. They all came down to this man. This sick, twisted, vile man. 

His voice just echoed in your ears, over and over as he moved around the empty room, going unnoticed. You didn’t know what to do, where to point your gun? As much as you had him trapped, he had you in just the same position. 

“Do they know?” he’d asked you. “Do they know that you think of me?”

Your blood was rushing faster, and faster, and faster. Until finally...Jenny rushed inside. He came out of hiding. And you shot. But not before he shot first. 

He couldn’t fully see where to point, but he got you anyway. Just a graze. But he still got you.

Jenny had stopped dead in her tracks looking between the body on the floor and you. She could see the look in your eyes. The same look she’d seen every time they discussed the case. Only, now it was more clear. 

It was a look of fear, panic and anger. 

“It’s over.” was all you said as she slowly took your gun from your hands which still had it pointing up - but you were slowly lowering it. And, eventually, you managed to make eye contact with her when she placed a hand on your shoulder, too. “It’s finally over.”

Jenny nodded. “It is.” before she looked to the door and saw Beau. He’d checked the man’s pulse. Gone. Forever. 

“Hoyt!” Popp called from behind them. 

“Is okay,” Beau reassured Jenny as he placed a hand on your other shoulder and arm. “I’ve got her.”

Jenny nodded before rushing to find Poppernak. 

“Come on, let’s find a medic.”

You hadn’t spoke a word after that. 

Beau led you outside to a medic, standing to the side a little so he could watch them patch you up. You’d live. It might hurt for a few days, but you’d be okay. 

And now, you sat in a booth at the Boot Heel. 

You would have probably been sat either in Dewell and Hoyt or at home, alone. But Beau had dragged you out to go with him, Jenny and Cassie to the bar. Clearly, this case was more than just a case. And he needed to know why. 

“Hey,” Beau knocked your leg with his foot gently under the table. You were sat with one leg and arm up on the back of the booth, your back leaning against the wall as you watched the others in the bar dance to the band. “Talk to me.”

You pulled yourself from your thoughts and looked at him, taking hold of the cold beer beside you. 

“What?”

“This case.” Beau stated. “Clearly it meant something to you. I tried to check your records with it and it’s all blacked out. And I want answers. I need answers.”

You sighed. You were going to have to tell them at some point. You had hoped you’d never have to speak of it again. You had a pscheval that cleared you. You had medical exams that cleared you. You were capable of working the case. You had worked the case. But that didn’t stop the reality of something this big hitting you. 

“It’s just me and you, Darlin’.” 

That was true. 

Cassie and Jenny were at the bar being chatted up by two guys. 

Beau let you take a moment. You shifted your bullet-grazed arm from the back of the booth chair and place your other leg on the ground before finding the courage - all while scratching the label from your beer bottle - to look at him. 

You took a deep breath and slowly began to explain. 

“It was back when I worked Homicide.” 

“Okay,”

“I was going from case to case. Most offenders left so much DNA behind we caught them soon enough. But then this once case came in. A young girl. 15. Missing. I didn’t worked missing person’s cases but it had made it’s way through to me. She’d been missing for a month an she matched a Jane Doe I had come across about a week earlier. No DNA. No evidence. No nothing. Until one of my deputies came through with a patern. It was our guy. Countless of women across the city. In my part of town, it had only been two women but across Virginia? Maybe 15? Anyway, the case went cold but I kept it open. But then I got the call to join the BAU. I took it but the case stayed with me and then one day...another girl came through. And another. And another. He was esculating. And we thought we had caught the guy - turns out it wasn’t him.”

“How’d you know?”

“I got a package in the mail the next morning.” you answered. It was like it was just yesterday. “A photo, a note and a piece of burnt flesh. Hers. He’d got another girl. We found her two days later. For months we worked on the case and each time we came close but he knew.” You gave a small laugh, an angle of your head and a scratch of the label again. “He always knew. Always just one step ahead of us.”

You paused for a short moment, trying to put your emotions on hold for the next few moments. But Beau just waited. 

“Anyway,” you could feel your nerves starting to get to you now. “The case had gone cold. Again. Until I got home after a case in Florida. Everything was normal. I thought I was safe.”

This wasn’t good. 

“Until I was stood in my kitchen and was taken from behind. We faught. I managed to grab a kitchen knife and stab him but he found my gun hidden under my kitchen island while I was away. Shot be twice before using my blood to write on the floor beside me. You’ll never catch me. I’ll always be with you. That’s what he wrote. I was in the hospital for a few weeks. But when I went back...it wasn’t the same. One of my teammates, Emily...she’d gone back to my house to try and scrub away the blood but it was like I could still see it. Like I could still see my blood around me and on me. Then, after a few months, I got the call from the Director about a slightly calmer job. They knew I wouldn’t stop working so maybe a calmer situation was best.” You looked back to Beau, a small smile on your face. “And then you called. And I took the job and...now we’re here.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You looked down for a moment and closed your eyes, shaking your head. “Don’t be. I had - well, the Director and I had one of the tech analyisists black out my file. Garcia - even she couldn’t get into it. The team knew most of what had happened to be but some things I wanted to keep to myself.”

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this earlier?”

“I didn’t want to go back.” you answered honestly. “I have enough flashbacks as it is. And my team back in Quantico...they all knew and I could see that look in their eyes. That look that was watching my every move, just waiting for me to explode or crumble. I love them, but I couldn’t take it. And I can’t take it from any of you, either.”

“Well...” Beau made sure you were looking at him. “If you ever want to talk, I’m here.”

You nodded with a weak smile on you face. “I know.”

A few minutes of silence passed between you two. Cassie and Jenny were still busy at the bar and the band was still playing. You were watching people dance on the wooden floors and, as Beau turned back to look at you, he got an idea. 

Shifting from his side of the booth, he finished his ceer and held his hand out.

“Come on.”

You looked to him with a small laugh. “What?”

“We’re dancing.” he told you. “Come on.”

“Beau...”

He held out his hand, that look in his eye. He wasn’t letting an opportunity like this pass. 

“Dance with me, Darlin’.”

You looked to the crowd with a small scoff - was he really asking you to dance? 

“But I don’t know how.”

He gave a small shrug and pout. “We’ll learn together.”

It took a moment, but you agreed and he took your hand, pulling you up and towards the dance floor. 

“Like this?” You placed your hand in his and your other on his arm.

Beau nodded, then placing his hand on your waist to pull you a little closer and you both, slightly awkwardly but still comfortable, danced. 

He spun you out before pulling you back in and before you knew it, the awkwardness was gone and replaced with smiling faces and laughter. 

Meanwhile, back at the bar Jenny handed Cassie a 10 dollar note. 

“What-?”

“Look.”

On the dance floor, yourself and Beau were now in a slightly slower dance. Close. Intimate. Or close to it, anyway. Either way, Jenny knew she’d lost. 

Cassie smiled widely. “Ah-ha. I knew it.”

“Yeah, yeah, gloat all you like.” Jenny took a sip of her beer. 

“Before you know it, they’ll be like Bonnie and Clyde but on the good side of the law.”

Jenny pointed to Cassie as she swallowed her beer. “I am not betting you on that.”

“Ten bucks it’s in the next two years.”

Jenny grumbled. “Fine. But this time I am having Denise take note because I’m still sure I won the bet about those two becoming friends.”

“Hell no, I won that one.”

“Whatever you say.” Jenny answered before they both looked back to Beau and yourself. 

“They look happy, don’t they?”

“Yeah,” Jenny smiled. “They do.”

#beau arlen #jensen ackles #beau arlen x you #beau arlen x reader #big sky #dean winchester #big sky x you #criminal minds crossover #fluff #trigger warning #danger #criminal minds #emily prentiss #bau #homicide detective #fbi #Sheriff Beau Arlen #jenny hoyt #cassie dewell #denise #dewell and hoyt private investigators #penelope garcia #x you #x reader #criminal minds x you #happy ending #dancing #the boot heel #deputy poppernak #detective au

[honeydrrop]

so, do you come here often

#my art #drawing #artists on tumblr #digital artist #digital art #sapphic artist #wlw #character design #oc #wlw art #wlw artist #wlw ship #wlw characters #wlw post #sapphic artists #sapphic art #sapphic #lesbian art #alternate universe #au #detective x criminal #detective #criminal #oc artist #my ocs #oc art #ocs #oc artwork