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love-toxin · 5 days

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Trapped - Harley Kunuk

(cws: fem pronouns, stalking, 3rd party stalker, yandere elements, blood, gore, animal death, guns, murder, injuries [burns, punctures, bruising], graphic smut, mental illness [depression/anxiety], dismemberment, DDDNE)

word count: 25.8k

(A/N: ALSO PLS LOOK @ THIS HEADER ART BY @the-zipper <33!!)

This whole "get out into nature" thing really hasn't panned out for you so far, has it? It's a little embarrassing to be honest. All you wanted was to inject a bit of fresh air into your daily diet, all with the hope that it might improve your mental health–maybe your physical health, too.

Yet here you sit in the dirt, your scraped hands held close to your chest while a total stranger helps you out of the prickly situation you've stumbled into. Made even more humiliating for the reason that this particular stranger is….well, he's not any run-of-the-mill good Samaritan. Those types don't generally trek through stretches of wooded areas with no paths, armed with a hatchet on his belt and all manner of hooks attached to it to carry back the catch from his traps.

When you'd first spotted him through the trees after stepping in one of those rabbit traps (currently still clamped around your ankle) you figured he was a lumberjack or something. Maybe a serial killer with those dead eyes and stoic expression, but you'd prayed not. You could see his wild, unruly black hair tied back in a thick ponytail to keep it out of his face, his huge frame that stood hulking and tall next to the barren trees, his worn-in flannel under a heavy leather coat and jeans permanently stained with dirt and who knows what else…he gave off the impression of what you imagine a giant would look like, although the pale smattering of freckles over his slanted nose and the gleam of brown in his dark eyes as he turned had sent a strange shiver down the back of your neck. In fact, your cries for help had almost instantly died down when you caught him in your peripheral, because you feared he might be the type of person to take advantage of your suffering–he just looked mean, and you distinctly recall the way your breath hitched in your dry throat when he started walking towards you.

But you've learned your lesson to not judge a book by its cover, and quickly, because he's been nothing but helpful so far–with just a dash of sass in the process. You did step in his trap, after all, which he'd supposedly been looking forward to checking for a nice, fat rabbit to make a stew out of. And based off of how deep it's buried itself into your skin, it probably won't be any good for other rabbits with your blood all over it.

"You really shouldn't wander out here blindly. It's dangerous." His muttering like he's not even addressing you would otherwise put you off, were he not so close and handling your leg so gently as he pries the blunt claws of the trap off. He's been trying for the better part of twenty minutes, but without any tools aside from his hands it's been slow-going. He tends to be gentler when the touch trap scrapes against you or digs in deeper, so in a bid not to hurt you further he's abandoned the idea of trying to preserve the trap itself–now the aim is just to get it off you by any means necessary, and based off the blood from his own hands and from your leg, it's not going nearly as well as he would've liked. "Not just cause of my traps. There's animals out here, too."

"I didn't think it would be," You admit bashfully, a heat further rising to your cheeks. He glances up at you as stone-faced as he was before, but something in his expression flinches like he's intentionally trying to keep a wall up. The sounds of the forest around you luckily keep you grounded as you adjust your position, your hand tentative as it grasps his shoulder for balance. Does he work out? His muscles aren't that noticeable at first glance but you're positioned in a weird way, he probably looks a lot bigger when he's not so close you're practically breathing on him. Then again he kind of has to be, considering the snare is giving him more trouble than he expected and snaps back to dig into your ankle for the nth time–eliciting a pained yelp from you in the process–but with a gruff "Fuckin' piece of trash-" grumbled right next to your ear, he finally manages to wedge his fingers between your flesh and the steel and wrenches it back down with harsh, brute strength.

A sharp twang echoes through the forest, the sound and his hard motion startling you enough for your nails to dig into his shoulder through the leather. You'd be surprised if a big guy like him would even feel it, and you think that especially so when you cast a glance down and feel your heart skip at the carnage lying before you. You almost feel worse for the trap than you do yourself–you've got some stinging dents, scrapes, and punctures in your skin from the teeth clamping down on them, but with his bare hands Harley's bent the steel jaws back so far they've snapped off the base of the trap completely. One of them lies shattered in pieces in the dirt, the spring holding it all together looks completely bent out of place, and by all accounts it's completely unsalvageable. And completely your fault.

"Thank you. I'm really sorry-"

"For what? This?" He cuts you off by holding up a handful of his snare's remains, but only shows some remorse after the fact, like he's not used to the normalcy of human interaction…it's a big leap considering you don't know him from Adam, but you can only make assumptions about some strange man you've never seen who dresses like a lumberjack but can barely string a few words together at a time.

Harley tosses the mangled trap aside, completely oblivious to the way you flinch at the way it flies and tumbles to the soil in a discordant symphony of rough clanging. "It's garbage anyways. Hasn't caught squat…just you."

As he says that, his eyes draw over from the pile of junk back towards you, quietly creeping upward until they meet your own. Maybe you're imagining things, but you feel some odd sense of kinship with him…you feel like he's looking deeper into your soul than you realize, right up until he coughs and gets back up to his feet with a grunt.

"Don't step in my traps again, unless you turn into a rabbit."

All things considered, your nose scrunches a bit as the unexpectedly gentle giant towers over you once more. The snare had been covered in leaves and all manner of brush, plus he'd set it up right next to a rotting log that you'd stepped over and subsequently fallen down when the snap and the pain threw you off balance. Only a hawk could've spotted such a well-hidden trap in the midst of an otherwise empty forest, and you release a huff from your chapped lips as you struggle to stand with the help of his outstretched hand.

"If I'd seen the trap, I wouldn't have stepped in…uh, what was that? Was that supposed to be a joke?" Harley flushes at once, faster than your eyes can manage to process since he turns around so his back is facing you. He's already taking steps away, his nerves showing through his facade as he nearly stumbles over a tree root before steadying himself against the trunk.

"I mean it. Watch your feet around here."

"Uh…Harley, hey! Wait!"

To your surprise, he actually stops and turns back around to face you–this time with concern written clear on his features at how urgent your tone is. Wisps of black hair fly free from his ponytail and whip against his cheeks as a breeze suddenly blows through the empty trees, and more than ever you draw your arms tight around yourself to keep out the cold. You didn't dress for this weather most certainly, and part of you knows you don't want him to leave partly because you're losing that warmth that had made you feel so secure.

"Um…I, uh, don't know if I can make it back. I'm kinda far from home, and my ankle.." You glance down at the exposed patch of skin above your sneaker and Harley's eyes flicker before they follow, a trail of fresh blood dripping down your goosebump-covered skin as you put pressure on it. "...I-It really hurts."

You fully expect him to tell you you're fine, that you don't need any help, or that you're just being a baby and want more sympathy. But he comes back, draws closer slowly like he's approaching a wounded animal, and gestures behind you towards the stump you'd been leaning back against. When you sit yourself down on the cold, mossy wood, he rolls up his dirty sleeves and crouches down in front of you–this time with his face right near your knee, and you have to look anywhere but at his concentrated expression while he pulls your ankle into his massive grasp. It looks and feels so tiny in his hand, like you're a doll compared to him, and as much as your fingers itch to touch his hair now that it's so close you keep digging them into the stump below you. He just keeps observing the wounds, gently pressing a finger around the area of each while easing off when he feels you cringe in pain.

"...Hurts? Can you feel that?"

"Yeah, it…yeah, hurts. It really hurts. Sorry-" Somehow the touching, the eyes on your wound, they choke you up before you even know what's happening. The pain runs deeper than the physical sores and you know that, or you did, you just didn't expect it to well up so much that you find yourself shedding tears in front of a complete stranger. Your pitiful sniffles and wiping your nose with your sleeve are what finally attract his attention. Harley peers up from his deep concentration and you can hear his breath hitch in his throat, clearly unsure of how to proceed in the face of this unexpected development. If he were you, he might've just gotten to his feet and scurried away from the scene.

"...Wait here. I don't live far, I'll go get my kit and come back. Don't cry."

The way he says it doesn't feel patronizing, not like it should. You hadn't noticed until his face draws closer that through your tear streaked vision, his brow is set low and his brown eyes soft with a gentle glimmer of care. You catch a glimpse of his hand hovering near your cheek out of your peripheral, the warmth soaking into your skin–but before it can make contact, he's sucking his teeth and tugging it away before he stands for the second time. He repeats that command to stay where you are, and with a step back and a turn on his heels he's headed back in the direction he came from. He's out of sight in less than a minute, which is somehow oddly comforting as you dry your puffy eyes with your sleeves and sit there in wait, sniffling all the while in the cold. Hopefully he won't be long…hopefully he'll actually come back. You've got a good feeling he will, even as the minutes tick by and you hug yourself tighter when the cold of the late day sets in. It'll be dark before you know it, and on this leg you won't be getting far even if you'd brought a torch with you.

It's probably been a solid few minutes before the sounds of snapping twigs alerts you to someone else's presence. The angle confuses you though, because Harley left in the direction you're facing and the noise is coming from behind you. A whisper of something in the back of your head begs you to turn around, and just when you do, your line of sight aligns with a stranger who stops in his tracks as soon as you catch him in your vision. You're on your feet as quickly as you can be with one of them incapacitated, your heart jumping into your throat at the sound of him mumbling something incoherent in your direction.

He's definitely not Harley. Definitely not somebody you recognize either; older, squirrely, raggedy-looking but somewhat put together. A white coat sits on thin shoulders with sleeves that inch down over knobby hands worn with age, aside from that he's dressed just as any other trail walker you would see–at the actual trails at least, not this patch of forest that's further out of town and has a reputation for being bear country. You'd probably never even notice him if your eyes passed him on the street or a walk where the couples and families go on the trails, he seems like the typical older man you'd see anywhere. Except for those eyes that feel like they're bulging out from behind thick-rimmed wire glasses, roaming over you from head to toe and giving you an intense, icky feeling of being sized up like meat.

"Is that guy your boyfriend?" The staredown continues as he throws that strangely accusative question your way, hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket so you can't see what he might be holding. What you don't know he is holding.

"Uh, what? Do I know you?" You shake your head in disbelief, taking great caution to step back slowly enough that you don't slip on your weak ankle.

"I've seen you walking here alone. Is the big guy your boyfriend? Is he your dad?" He still has his hands in his pockets. Your brain won't stop imagining all the things he could be hiding in there–and the disjointed way he walks and the questions he's asking unnerve you to your core. And did he just admit he's watched you walking around here? This area of the woods isn't even remotely near a trail and you picked it for that very reason…unless it's an odd coincidence, it's forcing you to think back to every moment you've spent here and all the times he could've been watching. As if things couldn't get worse, your only reprieve is still nowhere in sight, Harley's footsteps nowhere near close enough for you to hear them. Who knows when he'll be back, either? It might be too late by then.

"I've got a lot of money. I can pay him." He steps forward and you take a huge one back. Your options are dwindling and you didn't have many in the first place. You can't possibly think he's harmless now that you're this far–he clearly has some creepy imagination and the only person who could save you, the only person who even knows you're here, definitely isn't close enough to hear you scream for help if you tried.

"H-He's coming back right now," You search for those words in the deepest pits of your stomach where your hope has fallen flat. The man glances around, his head turning in big, sweeping arcs to search the woods for any sign of said rescuer. Your heart hits the wall of your ribcage so hard you feel like you're gonna sink to your knees, or at least be sick all over the ground. You're not safe and you know it, and he knows it.

"I don't see him."

He takes another shaky, measured step towards you and you stumble back to take your own, but all you manage to do is trip and fall back on your behind in the mess of leaves underfoot. Those next few steps he takes towards his prey are quick and heavy in your ears, and in a burst of panic when you can finally get your voice out you sob Harley's name in a shaky, tremoring pitch that breaks with frantic desperation.

The doomed silence that follows is cut by the sound of wind whipping harshly through the trees–and in a matter of seconds, followed by the violent thwack that echoes throughout the woods as a blade flings itself across your vision and embeds itself in a tree trunk before you.

The hatchet marks a degree of separation between you and the man you hadn't realized had been stalking you for a while, landing barely an inch away from his nose. He staggers back out of shock and nearly falls over a root himself, but upon turning his gaze towards the source of the attempted assault, his bug eyes widen and he scrambles to run away with his tail tucked between his legs. No sense of relief washes over you until you spot your savior, his gait tense as he steps out from the trees and into the clearing–you only inhale a shaky breath when you see that long hair trailing down his back, the softness of his flannel sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he reaches out to grasp the handle of the hatchet. With a deft, one-handed tug, it dislodges from the dead tree with a rough crunching sound and falls to hang down at his side. He doesn't move to look over his shoulder at you until the man has disappeared from his vision, but when he does he finally sets the tool back on his belt and crosses that short distance to kneel in front of you, his first-aid kit dangling on a clasp on the opposite side.

You'd expect him to be upset by that rather violent reaction even if it's not directed at you, but he's cooled down already, enough that his touches are gentle on your skin. At least on the outside. There's a storm brewing behind his eyes that you thankfully won't have to witness, because all that awful business he's cooking up as revenge won't be for your precious, pure eyes.

"You okay?" His deep voice couldn't be more soothing than it is in this moment, your eyes filling with a fresh set of tears that, this time, he's quick to brush away for you with his calloused thumbs. His shushing and soft, sweet crooning don't fit the scary vision of the man wielding that frightening weapon, yet his soothing touches and words are so comforting you just end up melting into his warmth. Not a word of protest escapes you when he suggests taking you back home, nor when he carefully leans your crying self into his shoulder so he can slide his hands beneath you, and lifts you off the ground and into his arms with a grunt.

Your legs dangling over one arm and your back supported by the other, Harley bridal carries you away from the scene and through the forest down a path only he can see. One still filled with roots to trip him up and dry leaves to crunch underfoot, but he barely stumbles at all with you perched delicately in his arms.

"Did I scare you? I'm sorry." You shake your head and lift it from where it's buried in his neck, a trembling hand wiping your face for what feels like the millionth time today.

"No…no, he scared me, Harley. Thank you, I.." You whimper, your words falling apart as you hesitate briefly–but in the next moment you're clinging to him, his taut biceps pressed to your soft flesh and your arms pulled tight around his neck, warming his face in the process. Maybe that dark flush is just the cold, but maybe it really is something else after all. "Please don't leave me."

A shake of his head is enough to sate you, some loose strands of his hair tickling your skin as he readjusts his grip to keep you upright. Every time he moves, even encumbered by your weight, he does so with so much ease you feel like you don't weigh an ounce in his arms.

"I did catch you, so I guess I get to keep you." A smile curving against his skin goes unnoticed but the tug on his shirt as he steps over a fallen log doesn't, your instinct to grip him tighter when he's unsteady is what leads him to brace you closer to his chest. Safer.

"So I am a bunny now? You'd better not turn me into rabbit stew, then." You chuckle, a sniffle peppering your breath.

"You do look tasty." You tuck in your arm before elbowing him in the chest, not like it really does anything but tickle when he's built like a brick wall. But it's out of shyness and embarrassment because those words sound devious out of his mouth, that slowly-spreading grin and rumbly voice sending a palpable shiver up the back of your neck like he's speaking to your thoughts directly. Does he know? He acts coy, but is it that easy for him to tell that you like him? Because you do. You really, really do.

It takes everything in you not to press your lips to his cheek in thanks, because while it would be quite sweet you don't exactly want to cross any boundaries of his. You just enjoy the ride for what it is, Harley's strong arms cushioning you every step of the way until the shade from the trees overhead disappears and the ground evens out. By the time you lift your head to look, he's crossed the grassy field that separates the land between the forest and his home, and is already slipping through the side door to a decent-looking farmhouse by the road. A soft couch lies beneath a grand window facing the open yard and it's where he sets you down, supporting your weight right up until the moment you hit the cushions and release your tight hold on his shoulders.

It's a little embarrassing to be treated so delicately for an injury that isn't terribly serious, but that's exactly how Harley addresses it. He slips your mud-caked shoes off for you and drops them on the doormat outside, tosses the kit on his kitchen counter you're facing, and excuses himself for a moment to wash his hands and search for some stronger medicine in his bathroom cabinet around the corner. The room itself is wide with the kitchen on the far side and the living room on the other, an archway sitting opposite to the side door that leads to a hallway, at the end of which lies the bathroom next to a set of stairs you can't quite see from here, but you can only imagine are there since there's clearly a second floor above you. As kitschy as it is with the creaky wood flooring and a few minor patches of water damage against the 70s-esque wallpaper, it's the definition of cozy–a fireplace sits near you along with a coffee table and two armchairs, along with a rug that looks thick and soft with age. The cabinets in the kitchen all look like similar wood to the floor, the linoleum just as old but well-scrubbed and clean of any muddy boot prints or grass, and the cream-coloured vintage fridge hums quietly with a dozen or so notes tacked to it, with scribbly drawings of things to memorize rather than actual words. Even from here, you can make out things like a certain number of eggs to bring somewhere and a particular part of a machine that somewhat looks like it belongs in a truck. And with all the natural light filtering in from the huge windows, one by your head and the other facing out above the kitchen sink, the whole first floor of the house stays warm and comfy-looking even as the sun begins to set.

"Is this where you live?" You call out and he hums loudly in agreement, busying himself with digging around the shelves through the open door. You crane your head to peek outside again, curious about the odd little hatches you can see from here and the fences around some big, grassy open areas. You just barely manage to catch a glimpse of a larger, more impressive building a little further off that looks like it could be a barn, and suddenly the weight of the cushions shifts as Harley takes his seat by your feet with a tube of something clutched in his hand. With relative confidence he squeezes a dollop on to his finger, hands you the tube to make sure you're not allergic to whatever it is, and gently presses the cream to your skin and swipes it right over your wounds.

The hiss that erupts from you at that first touch halts his progress briefly, but he's back to rubbing it in once he's given you a look and probably realized that it's not that bad. It just stings–but as he explains, it's disinfectant, so it's important to apply before you're exposed to a nasty strain of bacteria.

"How–ow! H-How long have you lived here?" Wincing, you sit up higher against the arm of the couch to get a better look. One glance at the blood staining his hands turns your stomach, however, and you're quick to peer back out the window in the hopes of shifting your focus elsewhere.

"The farm?" He queries, gaze sliding towards those same structures out the window before he finds an answer. "...Long time. Twenty years, maybe?"

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-nine."

"No kidding." You crack a wobbly smile, the burning sensation having slowly run its course through your poor, abused ankle. "We're not too far apart. So you grew up on a farm?"

"Kinda. Just helped out."

"Do you have cows?"

Shhhrup. He snips off a length of gauze and pins it to your ankle with a warm finger, slowly rolling the band around it in wide, careful circles. On each pass around he pulls it taut to tighten it and stem the bleeding, though it doesn't mean it doesn't make you flinch each time.

"Yeah. Chickens, too."

"You do?"

"Of course. See the building there? That's my coop." Once he's finally finished with pinning the dressing into place, he helps you lean up with his palm held out, your fingers grasping it firmly to steady yourself as you peer out the window towards the direction he's pointing. The way he talks about it gives off a sense of pride, but that alone is clear by the smile that breaks his stoic facade when you ask if you can see the cows and the chickens.

"When your ankle's better we'll go outside and feed them. You can ride one if you want, if you promise to be gentle with her."

"I can ride one?" Your eyes sparkle with hopeful excitement, glimmering like sea glass and crystals among the sand. You're assuming it's not that detail that has him quirking up a brighter smile than before, but you would be wrong.

"Mhm. Marnie likes giving rides–we can bribe her with some celery I've got, too." He speaks with a hand on your wrapped ankle, neither of you even really noticing the gesture until it dawns on both of you, and you break your shared gaze and the touch in somewhat flustered fashion. Yet, even though he sits like a golem above you with hands retracting back to his own lap, you still can't help the thought that he's just so…soft.

Maybe not on the outside necessarily, but Harley gives off a comforting, warm energy that seems completely natural to him. You've seen the itchy discomfort and awkwardness of men who would strike fear into your heart by presence alone, the unintentional fidgeting that betrays bad thoughts and cues towards what they've really got on their mind–things that they would gladly do or say if nobody was around and the chance of getting caught was low. Passing comments that just barely scrape the surface of impropriety, gestures masked with kindness but bleed through with the expectation of something in return. Harley isn't like that, or at the very least he doesn't seem like that.

"Something to drink?" He stands up and off the couch in a swift motion, the remaining roll of gauze pinched in one giant hand along with the balm and the scissors. They look almost toy-like in his massive grasp, it's actually pretty cute.

"Water?" He nods, brisk in his actions but not in the movements themselves–he takes your orders like a soldier yet moves along in a relaxed gait, the path to the kitchen like a sixth sense and the air in the house so familiar he's breathed himself into every inch of it. If you asked something of him, he could say no. Yet his willingness to do so prods at you with the thought that maybe he never has said it.

From the cupboard he produces a tall, well-worn glass, and the tap shudders to life to spit a strong jet of water straight into it once he turns it. It squeaks with age and potentially the need of some upkeep, but when he circles back around the edge of the tabletop and brings it to you, it sits clear and cool as it meets your hands and desperately refreshing when you bring it to your lips for a sip. If you knew how many cracked glasses he owns, you'd probably be twice as grateful that the one you hold stays intact as you drain it. You've never been one to remember the necessities when out for a stroll, a water bottle being one of them–the stuff he's given you now, though? It could well be the ambrosia of the gods to your parched throat, your tongue having sat so heavy and dry in your mouth that the unpleasant feeling has become a nuance and not an irritant. Maybe it's his pipes or maybe it's him, keeping a close eye and taking the glass back when it's empty to refill it again–but tap water has never tasted so good, you could swear it on your grave.

"So.." He murmurs, handing back your drink and waiting for you to down another greedy sip before he continues. "It's getting late, and you should really rest that leg. If you're okay, I can take you back home. Or…" The way he trails off lifts a brow from you, curiosity overcoming you in a gentle wave.

"Or?"

"...Or you can stay here for a bit. I mean, you can come back if you really want to, and we can see the animals then. But if you want to stay–and, uh, I can keep an eye on yo–y-your wound–you can."

You lower the glass, now half-empty, into your lap. As much as you want to let your smile peek through at how sweetly he's asking the question, you can't help but wonder about the possibilities. Is this a ruse? Does he want to get me alone? Will he flip out if I say I want to go home? Part of you wants to test him, wants to say that you do and then change your mind to see how he reacts…but another part of you trusts him, maybe errantly, but you so rarely get the opportunity to just take a chance with fate. Maybe this time, things will be different.

"I don't really have anyone to check on me, honestly, and I live alone. Maybe…if it's okay, maybe I can stay? There's not even an elevator in my-"

"Okay," He breathes suddenly, but follows it up quick with an apology for cutting you off. The enthusiasm tweaks your anxiety just a little bit, but you try your best to smooth it over. There's no going back now. "Yeah. I'll set up the spare room for you."

Within moments he's up, but before he gets to that particular task, the labour of food dawns on him and he makes a detour into the kitchen. Despite insisting that you've already eaten before you left for your walk, Harley imparts upon you a bit of homemade jam and some kind of fried bread before he takes you up to bed, the former quite sweet and tangy while the latter is a bit doughy from a day in the fridge but still delightfully warm off a pan that he heats it up in. That and a cup of fresh, warm milk and honey is what sends you upstairs to bed, the steps creaking twofold as Harley carries you there like a lame calf that needs constant tending. Belly full, sleepy, and comfortable–things could certainly be worse than this, especially when you consider what could've happened if Harley hadn't been around to rescue you today. Things could be much worse, you've found.

The spare bedroom sits just off the top of the staircase, as the second door from the end of the hall with another diagonally adjacent to it. The moment he carries you in, you can tell this used to be someone's room–the bed has been flipped and fitted with newer sheets and blankets, the walls have been scrubbed clean, but there's still shadows of frames that once hung against the honeycomb-like wallpaper and a closet nearly bursting with boxes of old belongings. Once he sets you down on the bed, the doors of which Harley's quick to close after stacking them higher and sliding them back to fit snugly inside and hopefully make you feel a little more comfortable. His disappears for a moment, but returns with what looks like a long, thick maroon shirt in his hands that would probably drape so far down on you it would act as a nightgown.

"Here. I'll wash your clothes for you tomorrow–this should do for you tonight." He waits patiently outside the door while you change, takes the clothing through the crack when you open it, and you notice that he's completely turned away when he does so even when he could probably be sure that you're decent. He bustles away with them like a rabbit, and returns just when the crickets have started chirping to show you the door–literally.

"There's a lock here," He points towards the highest point of the bedroom door, and back down towards the bottom where a wedge of polished wood sits nearby. With a measured bump of his foot he shows you how to slot it underneath, and respectively how to tug it back out with a decent amount of force. "It looks shaky but it works. I lock both the doors at night too when I close up the barn. Windows too, but these ones are hard to open anyways." He demonstrates by crossing the floor in quick strides and tugging on the window, barely able to shift it upwards a few inches before shoving it back down with a healthy amount of grunting…and to say the sounds don't have you hot in the face would be a mistake, as benign as they are.

"I'm in the room at the end of the hall. Bathroom's next door. If you need anything, just holler or come get me." He finally offers you his parting words with a hand on the doorknob, about to step out but clearly with some hesitation lingering in the way he stands. Maybe he wants to stay with you, or maybe he's nervous about leaving you alone after today. It's endearing either way, rather than concerning.

"I'll try not to wake you up." You smile back at him, truly feeling the gratitude for his kindness, but he shakes his head.

"No, come wake me for anything. Even a glass of water–I don't want you walking down those stairs and getting hurt."

Ouch. Those words sting, they really do, but not because of his personal fault–rather because you can't recall the last time you heard something like that, the last time it was said with sincerity, and it hits you like a brick and leaves you aching with a hollow feeling that you don't know what to do with. Your hands lift to rub at your arms a bit awkwardly, shifting your weight from one foot and wincing when you attempt to do so to the other, but soon enough you find the courage to speak in the wake of concern you don't know if you deserve.

"You're really sweet, Harley."

"Sweet? I'm not sweet." His expression sours at once, a pout forming on his lips that almost doesn't fit his intimidating stature. He looks as if that word alone is an insult, yet the heat rising to his face gives him no bearing when it's so obvious that he's flattered.

"You haven't let me take a step on my own all day. You're really sweet, and really nice."

"Yeah, whatever." Unable to meet your eyes he pouts even harder to try and cover it up, turning his back on you with no better answer and grabbing hold of the doorknob on his way out. "Shut up, city-slicker. And don't stay up too late."

You nearly flinch when he doesn't slam the door closed, his bad attitude striking you more as cute than intimidating. Your ears perk at the sound of his footsteps outside, muffled through the walls and growing distant as he pads down the hall–and when his own door shuts quietly, you finally tear yourself away from the threshold and patter barefoot towards the plush bed. It's nothing special, and it's a bit old, but you certainly can't complain.

You can't help but think, however, as you shut off the lamp by the bedside and hunker down for a long night…it's just a little too cold for your liking.

Whispers hum at you in the dark, surrounding you in a blanket of voices and sensations that drench you in nothing but blackness. An incessant tapping grows in volume at the back of your mind, visions flashing by at random in a grotesque show of theatre–something burns, something hurts, and in a flash of climactic panic you shoot up awake in your bed, panting and gasping and grasping at things that aren't there.

You're alone again, but not in a good way. It takes a moment to adjust to your surroundings, reintegrate into the situation you're in, but a glimpse out the window at the farm and your hand brushing the cotton fabric of the blanket brings you right back down to earth. It was just a dream, and as you peer closer, the tapping in your head was nothing more than the branch of one of the trees whipping against the window in the wind.

You're up and out of your bed before you can really think about it, limping a little but finding steadiness as you brace the wall and the door handle before coming out into the hall. It's creepier at night, much quieter than you expected save for the noise of the wind outside, and it has you hauling yourself as quickly yet quietly as possible to get to the door on the very end; the door that creaks so softly as you open and close it behind you, but doesn't cause the warm, heavy body in the bed to stir. Even as you approach him and come round the other side that he's perched on, his breathing stays even and soft like he's nearly dead to the world.

"Harley?" Your whispers grow their confidence in the dark, the hem of the long shirt swishing around your thighs as you lean over the sleeping giant. "Harley, are you awake?"

You're wary of shaking him, but your hand just barely brushes his shoulder–when it meets his heated skin, the man in question flinches and rolls over with a groan, his arm sliding off his chest to dangle off the edge of the bed. Even in the dimness you can make out the squint of his eyes at the slivers of moonlight shining through the window, his hair tousled and splayed out all over his sheets since being freed from its ponytail. He barely tilts his head in your direction, but even so he acknowledges you with a slurred hum and a rub at his eyelids to erase the sleep weighing them down.

"I-I'm sorry–" Your fingers clench at the sight of his bare chest, the skin soft-looking and riddled with the deep edges of healed scars. "-I can't sleep. The noise-"

Without a word, Harley gropes for the blanket draped over him and grabs a fistful of it, tiredly lifting it up with a yawn. It's an idea almost too good to pursue, your brain momentarily wondering whether this, too, is a joke. But not one to give up the opportunity since he seems too sleepy to tease you, you take the bait and make quick work of crawling over his buff body to flop down on his other side. Your breath quickens in your throat as soon as you're settled, but you've got no time to dwell on the enthusiasm as Harley pulls the blanket up to your shoulder, shifts his hips up, and turns on his side to face away from you.

Is this really how fate has decided to treat you? You're not too sure you're a fan of enduring a string of so many awful things just to get one good miracle–but as the warmth of the bed lulls you in, you find your smile returning slowly as you snuggle into the sheets and relax next to the man whose hands you would gladly put your life into.

Within a few minutes of laying down beside him the space feels like it's growing larger and larger between you, the cold soaking into your veins and causing your feet to retreat further and further up under the covers. It takes a bit more time to work up the courage to search for a little more than that. Enough that you're sure he's probably fallen back asleep as you shuffle closer and closer, settling in again once your hands just barely brush his spine. That's better. Harley exudes so much warmth that you could consider him a human heater, although the chill returns when he flips over on a dime and those brown eyes are staring you down, half-open, in the darkness.

It doesn't take him even a moment to survey you, examine your intentions, think about you in any way–he mindlessly throws an arm over your body, while the other stuffs itself under your neck and loops through the space for you to rest your head on his bicep. What really kills your courage is the feeling of his warm, thick thigh brushing against your bare skin between your legs, your own clamping down around it on instinct before he brushes a place that'll really have you blushing. That wasn't his intention, but it's somehow more flustering that it wasn't. He just doesn't know what he does to you.

"Warmer now?" He murmurs, eyes fluttering closed while his fingers play with a few strands of your hair. Now, with him closer than ever, you can really feel the weight on your heart ease off. A smile graces your lips barely an inch away from his, even knowing you'll be spending the better part of your night wondering what it would feel like to kiss them. You hum your answer softly. "Good. Sweet dreams."

"You too, Harley." Your head falls back against his arm, and it's only a matter of time before the warmth of his body heat and the comforting embrace of strong arms around you lulls you into a deep, dreamless sleep. The only thing you remember waking you up is a brief time between then and the sunrise, when your eyes flutter open and you feel Harley's presence has disappeared for a time. But once slumber grabs hold of you again and you vanish into the land of unconsciousness, the only thing that causes you to stir is the distinct pitch of a rooster crowing from somewhere off in the yard, which inevitably rouses both of you into waking up.

You'd usually roll over to your side to check the time, but it dawns on you quickly that you're not in your own bed. This one is much cleaner, softer, and smells different–a bit like shampoo, cologne, and grass. Three things you haven't experienced nearly enough of in the last few months, but you've gotten more of it in the last 24 hours than you have for the entirety of the long depressive episode you've endured as of late. Your nose wakes to the smells first but you grow more alert at the heat on your back, Harley's hand pressed into the small of it to keep you cuddled snugly against his side. That tender gesture escapes you as soon as he slides his arms out and stretches them above his head, sitting up in the process for you to catch a much better glimpse of his bare torso in the sun's morning glow.

A myriad of scars mark deep, jagged edges in his skin right across the length of his back, littered by other oddly-shaped marks and bruises that look more like the result of many long years of farm work. The long strokes look more intentional, however–they almost look like flogging scars, as if from a switch or some other long, blunt object. It's unnerving, the way they cluster around one area near his shoulders where most of his exposed skin would be….and as much as you want to ask, your burning stare is enough to draw his attention to you and you don't dare to make him any more uncomfortable than you already have.

"I'll get breakfast ready." Your heart soars all of a sudden and it's a sensation that's quick to burn your cheeks, so all you can manage is a nod in reply while he gets up and quietly gathers some clothes so he can slip into the bathroom to change.

It's all so domestic; being here, the cozy house, the bed, the soft exchanges between you like it's all a part of daily life. Human connection is something you've missed these last few months, sure, but this is only something you've ever dreamed of–feeling cared for by someone who takes pleasure in your company. And Harley clearly does, because you can't imagine someone as sweet and handsome as himself entertaining another person without reason. Like you've seen before, he can be pretty off-putting and cold until he eventually warms up, but the fear that there might be something deeper to this arrangement still swirls in the back of your mind.

Harley ducks out of the bathroom fully clothed and drops the sweats he'd been wearing in the hamper on his way out, footsteps thumping down the stairs before there's a pause–and then the sounds resume with the clinking of dishes and running water. He could be a murderer, or a sex offender, or something worse, and you'd have no idea if he was until it was too late. But then again, you think as you roll over on your side and ponder getting up, he did save you from that creep.

Was it a ruse? A coincidence? Could they have been in league with one another? It's impossible to tell but you desperately want to believe that Harley's a good man. You don't want to slip into these feelings of distrust and fear again, you can't keep living like you expect everybody to hurt you. But then again, you really don't want to add more trauma to your pile or wind up dead in a basement altogether.

Frustrated and in desperate need of a distraction, you throw the covers off your legs and slide over to the edge of the bed, toes bristling at the chill of the wooden floors still cold from the night. He'd lent you his shirt, so you imagine he wouldn't mind you borrowing some more clothes–this morning you elect for a hoodie near the back of his closet, and a pair of jeans in a folded pile at the bottom from a bag labelled "Donate". Your underwear will just have to last another day but you're unfortunately quite used to stretching things as far as you can until you literally can't put it off any longer.

Luckily for you, the walls are close enough by the stairs that getting down them isn't too harsh, your hands bracing them every step until you can make it to the very bottom. Your companion doesn't seem as proud as you are when you show up in his kitchen, however, undaunted by your physical toils but still leaning on the countertop for support–the same one that he's preparing breakfast on just a foot or two away.

"I was gonna bring it to you," Harley utters softly, though his stoic expression shifts into something gentler when he catches sight of his clothes donned on your figure. "You're gonna slip on the stairs with that ankle."

"I'm okay," You insist, toeing your leg out and hiking up your pants a little to show off the bandaged wound…but your confidence falters when you realize just how swollen it's gotten overnight, the skin burning and puffy with a smattering of bruises peeking out from beneath the gauze. "...Oh."

Harley releases a sigh as he sets down the knife on his chopping block, and takes a step around the counter to brace you by the small of your back and guide you towards the dining table.

"Told you. Sit." The firmness of the gesture has your spine tingling, his warm palm like a heating pad on your lower back just from that simple touch.

"It really doesn't hurt that much," You swear as he doubles back to the cupboards and returns to start setting plates down. "Whatever you did really helped."

"Good…I'm glad." Harley shrugs and soon returns to the pan he'd been stirring, his movements calculated as he dumps in some chopped vegetables and flips the scramble over to check how far along it is. "How'd you sleep? You said it was loud."

"Oh…yeah, I think the window was cracked open. The wind got really loud and the branches started whipping against it…it just scared me a little, that's all."

"Shit," He grumbles to himself. "Knew I forgot to clip 'em.”

"It's okay," You offer him a sincere smile. "I slept much better afterwards, anyways."

For some reason, maybe nerves, Harley clears his throat and finds himself at a loss for words. He's busying himself with the finishing touches on the breakfast–buttering your toast and pouring out a bit of coffee into two mugs–but he doesn't find any until he's setting it all down at the table and coming close with the pan in one hand and spatula in the other.

"Well…er, that's good. I'm glad. I hope I didn't snore too loud." He murmurs over your shoulder as he reaches to spoon out some egg on to your plate; and keeping a close eye you can see he's separated the parts that are a little browner to fill his own plate. Aside from that, it's cooked just as you like it–and it smells amazing, and fresh. It's much harder to think badly of him when his cooking is to die for.

"I don't think I would've noticed if you did." You chuckle back at him, your fork digging into the scramble while he takes his seat across from you. "It was too comfy."

At that, Harley is rendered completely silent and fills the quiet space by stuffing his mouth full, his demeanor flat as he eats but his ears burning all the same.

And you can deal with that. It's not even really dealing, per se–you tuck into your own meals in silence, and it feels more normal than it should. When's the last time you shared a meal with someone and didn't feel the need to talk away the silence? You can't even recall, yet now with this stranger it's as easy as breathing. A bite of your toast crumbles in your mouth, the dryness reminding you of what happened the day before…and in no time at all your mind is drifting away and you're sitting, staring, eyes glazed over as you run through the events on a loop.

"...You thinking about yesterday?" Harley peers at you over his cup of coffee and peeks into your soul, your eggs barely picked at in comparison to his even though they smell better than anything you've eaten in months. It jolts you into meeting his gaze but not into forgetting what you've been agonizing over, and so you find yourself fiddling with your fork and working up the courage to just say what you're thinking.

"Yeah. It…I don't know. I feel like it's my fault."

Harley furrows his brow, his mug meeting the tabletop with a soft thud. "How so?"

"I just…I shouldn't have been walking there alone, clearly." You jut your foot out from beneath the table briefly, once again showing off the puffy soreness from underneath the covered wound. "And I guess I should've just been more careful. If you weren't there, I would've-"

"You shouldn't blame yourself." The sharp edge of Harley's voice cuts into the conversation, though his gaze flits away from yours and back again, soft as ever when he's fixated on you. "I'm not saying you shouldn't be careful, but you didn't do anything wrong. It's not your fault some people are just evil."

The shake of your head sours that look, your gentle smile probably giving him the idea that you don't believe him. That you're just humouring him. "You think that?" He looks down at you, the tines of his fork suddenly pointed in your direction.

"I think shitty people deserve whatever shit they get served. You don't deserve it just cause they're fucked in the head.” With those strong words lingering, he returns to the past few bites of his breakfast. ”Besides, you don't need to think about it anymore–I'll take care of it."

"What do you mean?" He nudges your plate closer with his knuckles, gesturing for you to keep eating. You pacify him with a bite, but you're barely done chewing when you ask again. "What are you gonna do?"

"Don't worry about it." Harley's hand brushes yours across the table as he reaches for the butter. "We're just gonna have a chat."

"About what? I know it's not gonna be about the weather."

"That's on a need-to-know basis, bunny. You don't need to know–now, eat. S'getting cold. And we have work to do." Another nudge and a scrape of your plate across the table, and you're met with a brick wall of decisiveness. But the nickname, it has you bowing your head and following his lead of swallowing down your breakfast, face warm and dark as you think about the rasp of his voice and the way that word sounds when you know he's talking about you. It swirls salacious thoughts into a brew in the back of your mind, your brain working overtime to cool the heat your heart is whipping up.

"I don't want you to get in trouble, Harley. Please be careful." He answers you with a grunt and a nod–a non answer. But it's as good as you're gonna get and you'd be a fool to try and extract any more out of his stony exterior.

By the time you're finally finished your breakfast, you've barely made a dent in your own coffee and sweeten it up with some milk he's put out to help it go down a little easier. Harley swirls the grinds he's got in his mug around, rolling a thought around his head before it finally ends up spilling out.

"So…when do you want me to take you home?"

Your honest answer is immediate, but you keep it bitten back behind your teeth. The insinuation stings a little, a lot, actually–yet you know it isn't a question he's asking because he's pushing you towards a desired answer. Looking him over and the way he's so relaxed, you know he's just looking out for you. There's something in the way he fidgets and warms up in your presence that makes you feel like he doesn't actually want you to go anywhere. "I have to feed the animals first, but I can drive you after that…or you can take a few days and see how you feel. You live around here?"

With a shake of your head, you chug back a swig of your coffee so big that it almost immediately gives you a headrush, though maybe it'll give you some courage to maneuver this conversation towards what you know you really want, rather than what you should do.

"Don't have a cellphone, but you can use the landline if you know the number. Let your family know where you are."

Family. That's a pretty pitiful word to describe what you've got. You feel your nose scrunch in disgust and you fold your arms over your chest, too wrapped up in your thoughts to notice Harley's questionable lack of confusion over your reaction.

"I don't really…I dunno if I'd count them as family." You mutter under your breath, hoping to push those thoughts back enough that they don't hurt you as much. "They're just people I…I know. I don't have many friends, either–I don't really have any. I don't think anybody's gonna be looking for me…"

Your bleak words fill a tense silence in the air, uninterrupted no matter how miserable they may be. It's unusual not to be intercepted by something like "They're your flesh and blood, they'll always love you!" or "Why don't you just talk to them, surely you can work things out!" like it's so easy to forget and forgive the things you've endured under the premise of some superficial relationship title.

"...I don't think I'd want them to."

Harley doesn't burden you with any of that. He just sits, listens, and quietly murmurs his question when you've let the silence fester long enough.

"Are you saying you wanna stay here? With me?"

Whatever you were expecting to hear, it wasn't that. Honestly you had kind of let your mind wander aimlessly and sort of forgot he was even there in the first place, quiet as he can be. You can't even begin to process that offer though, not when you're still so wrapped up in your own head and still feeling guilty for all the hospitality he's shown you thus far.

"That's crazy," You smile sadly back at him, reaching for your cup just to have something occupy your hands. "I wouldn't ask that of you. We don't even know each other."

The quiet as a whole is broken by Harley clearing his throat, another sip of coffee drained thoughtfully before he speaks again.

"It's more…if you want to. You can stay with me until your ankle heals, and then...we can see about you staying longer. Give you some time to think." As he speaks, he spots a forgotten corner of toast you haven't finished and plucks it off your plate to pop it into his mouth, swallowing it back with the help of his drink. "I'll show you around, see if you can handle the farm work. We'll go into town on Saturday to set up the booth, and you can walk the market with me."

Clearly he's been putting some thought into this, or his mind just works much faster than yours under pressure–either way, you're left almost speechless as Harley rattles off a plan like it isn't even odd to be planning a future with someone he literally just met.

"Well…what about rent? And-"

"The farm makes enough, and I already have more than I need. That's not an issue." He shakes his head to emphasize his point, draining the rest of his mug in a flash and balancing it atop his plate that he lifts to pull yours underneath. The only movement he allows you to make is to finish your own coffee, otherwise he shoos your hands away as you try to help clean up and stacks the dishes up in his hands with practiced ease, hauling them all into the kitchen to dump them into the sink.

"Won't I be a hassle?" You ask, turning in your chair to look at him over your shoulder as he rinses them with a quick hand.

"No, you'd be helping me. And…you'd be good company, too. It can get a little too quiet out here when you're alone." He only meets your eyes at the end of that thought, looking up from his damp hands with the smallest gleam of affection that you nearly miss.

Stay. You could stay, he's practically making a case for you to stay, and you want it so badly you can feel it pressing against your chest, threatening your heart to burst. You could leave it all behind and stay here, and…and, what? What can you possibly say to that now, when Harley clearly wants you here and you obviously don't want to go home? Would it be so wrong to indulge yourself, to let your past go and run after a future you've always dreamt of but never imagined you'd get?

It's decided without words, but it feels wrong not to declare it, at least for him to understand exactly where you stand.

"Okay. Yeah, I'll…I'll stay."

If you hoped for anything more you'd be asking too much, because the way Harley finally caves into that bright, rare smile is a sight for incredibly sore eyes, and it's more than enough to fill the quiet as he gently washes the dishes and passes them over the counter for you to dry.

"This is Custard." Harley cups a baby chick in his hands in the living room, having hurried out into the yard once the table was wiped and dishes put away. When he'd come back cradling something tiny against his chest, you hadn't assumed you'd even remotely know what it was he wanted to show you–but now, taking a look at him, your heart swells with adoration as if you're experiencing the feeling for the first time.

"Ohhhh!" The squeal escapes you without warning but it's completely unapologetic–your heart puddles at the sight of the little ball of fuzz, tiny chirps filling the room as it fluffs itself up in Harley's big palms.

"How about you keep him warm while I feed the hens? Here, he can eat this, too." He hands you a strawberry from the pocket of his coveralls, one he must've just plucked off the bushes that crowd around the henhouse. "One of the cows is giving birth soon, so I've gotta check if she's contracting yet."

"You're gonna have a baby cow soon?" You ask him with glistening eyes as he passes Custard into your hands, gently sliding the fluffball with legs over as it chirps in indignation. He nestles in and soothes himself once he feels how warm you are, though, and Harley rubs his tiny head with a finger that's still just a touch too big in comparison.

"Very soon. Could be tomorrow, or could be next week. You should help me think of names–the mom's name is Bea." With that he leaves you to entertain the little one while he steps out to take care of the chores, and as you sit back on the couch with the chick snuggled up in your hands, you take the chance to peer out the window and watch Harley work.

It's mesmerizing in a way. He's so focused yet you can sense his kindness in the way he moves, how gentle he is with his animals whether someone's watching him or not. The hens crowd around him the moment he approaches with the bucket, yet it's not just the food they're fascinated with–a few of them peck at his pant legs like they're trying to get his attention, vying for pats on the head or scratches down the back. One of them snuggles herself between his boots and lays there while he spreads the feed in the yard, moving only to ruffle her feathers when he steps over her to set the pail down and start reaching into the coop to collect their eggs. He's got a way with animals that you've seldom seen, and it brings a giggle to your lips when you watch him walk off out of sight and leave the hens clucking and some trying to chase after him as he heads to the barn around the back.

Custard nips at the strawberry, pecking away bits of it with a flutter of his cotton-ball wings as you hold it steady for him. The more he eats, the sleepier he gets, but even so he doesn't stop for love nor money to get every last bit of fruit and it's so adorable you can't stop watching him once you start. Soon, his belly puffs out full of fruit and tart juice, and your new friend finally settles down into a deep sleep with a flap of those tiny wings and a gentle chirp. Part of you is tempted to take the chick back to the henhouse and put his sleepy little self in the nests, just so you can have an excuse to go watch Harley work in the barn. But within the hour while you're watching the clouds go by the man himself returns, coming through the screen door with a bit of hay and dirt on his pants–and a smile once he sees Custard cuddled up in your hands on the couch. With a quiet pass off, he takes the baby bird and swiftly heads back out to put him in the coop. You're standing, waiting for him at the door once he comes back, and fortunately for him since he looks like he has something to ask.

"I have to go check the traps. You gonna be okay here by yourself?" The idea makes your throat dry up, and your heart still before beating much faster against your ribcage. Leaving? He's gonna be gone? For how long? What are you gonna do? How are you gonna feel safe? A million questions and more run through your head before you can squeeze a single one out.

"Wh..What if someone comes by?"

"People rarely do," He offers, a gentleness in his brown eyes. "But if that happens, just stay inside. I'll lock all the doors."

"What if it's the guy? What if he tries to get in?"

Harley suddenly gets serious, his breath fogging up your senses as he leans down to look at you whilst gripping your shoulders tightly in his rough hands. His warmth overwhelms you at such a tender closeness, his eyes stern and serious.

"Nobody's going to hurt you. I won't let anyone hurt you here. Can you trust me, just for this little while? I'm gonna come right back. I promise.”

Your lungs feel tight again. Hot. Your breathing isn't evening out and it's actually getting worse–you can tell you're on the brink of a panic attack but you can't fumble your thoughts into something coherent, you just cling to Harley's sleeve in the hopes that the panic will evaporate….and in that heightened, tense moment that feels like it's lasting forever, your heart sinks and your head whips around at the sound of the doorbell ringing. Harley huffs in frustration and sighs out a curse under his breath at the interruption, his hand lingering on your arm as he orders you to stay put while he heads around the corner and down the hall to answer it. You listen closely, rather than distantly as you feel the urge to dissociate, until the feeling fades as a distinctly southern accent fills your ears and breaks the terror of wondering whether that same stalker has followed you to this safe haven.

"The hell are you here for? I'm busy."

"The hell y'mean 'the hell am I here for'? It's Tuesday!"

That voice, heavy with an accented drawl, pipes up like a cat in comparison to a bear–and the shuffling at the front door only piques your curiosity more as Harley huffs and starts berating the stranger like they're more familiar than they seem.

"...Fuck. Listen–hey, not in the house! Take your shoes off, idiot!" Before Harley can stop him the stranger is suddenly standing across the living room, his golden eyes honing in on you immediately as he saunters up and barely misses your companion's frustrated grab for his collar behind him.

"Ooh," He winks. "See you've got company, huh? Hello darlin'." The young man is the picture of what you'd imagine a western cowboy would look like; a cowboy hat perches on his brown hair and his bronzed skin bears the tone of someone who spends much of their time outdoors…and that's to say nothing of the cowboy boots that clack their way across the carpet, complete with spurs that jingle with his every step. Yet his clothes seem exceptionally modern, the cream-coloured dress shirt and faux-leather pants giving off the visage of an office worker on a cowboy retreat. "Lookin’ like you seen a ghost. Elias Norwood, at your service–any way you'd like to be serviced."

Elias dips down and captures your hand in his, just barely grazing his lips over your knuckles in a chivalrous kiss before Harley appears behind him and yanks him away like a cat by the scruff of his neck. "You wanna get out, or you wanna wake up tomorrow as pig shit?" He growls, and Elias just laughs–partially in jest, and partially from genuine nerves–before he's shoved out the side door and just manages to catch his balance on the last step out to the grass. He shoots you a grin, a wink, and a wave through the window before he hustles out of view, seemingly heading towards the barn to take care of those aforementioned horses.

"I-Is he…y'know..?" You glance back at Harley with wide eyes, and the farmer shakes his head.

"Elias? No, he's not dangerous. We…we were married before. Not anymore." He's quick to qualify, even raising his left hand for you to see the absence of a ring on his finger.

"Oh."

"Yeah." The awkward silence simmers between you two as you take that in. Married? It's hard to believe Harley was married to someone so…different. A twisting and churning of your stomach bubbles your blood with unease–there's some sliver of irritation, envy, perhaps even jealousy in that moment. As hard as you try to cast the thought aside, it lingers while Harley remains so close. Yet it runs for long enough that Elias soon returns to interrupt it, that smarmy grin on his freckled face increasing the tension rather than cutting it as he pokes his head in around the screen door. "D'ya need your ears cleaned? Get out."

Harley aims that well-trained scowl back at his ex, who seems either gleefully oblivious to it or like he gets a thrill out of making your farmer friend mad. And though you struggle not to let it shine through, there's a twinge of satisfaction in your chest that foregrounds the erratic thumping of your heart.

"Naw, I can hear you. Won't hurt if you lemme know where you picked up this sweet little thing, though." It takes a second for you to understand that he's referring to you, which is just long enough for Harley to stomp over to the door and shove his fist into Elias' shirt for the second time. He shoves him backwards for the cowboy to stumble down the few steps and land on his ass in the dirt, but he looks no worse for wear even when his hat tumbles off his head and he just chuckles at the reaction. The screen door swings shut behind them but you can hear their muffled conversation from outside, not much more than a "Kidding!" from Elias and Harley's voice grunting a "Go tend your horses and fuck off." catching your attention. Eventually he returns, and in the far distance you can hear the whinny of a horse as Elias must be returning to where they're stabled.

"Here. I'm gonna give you my hatchet." Harley steps back inside with the blade at his side, the handle wooden and worn with age from many years of frequent use. When he closes your hands around the grip, your palms fill in the distinct indents of his callused fingers in the hilt. Your mind drifts to the way he threw it in the direction of your stalker, and it's even more impressive now, thinking back to how firmly it stuck in the tree and how much strength he may draw on when he's angry. Protective, rather. "Elias is gonna stick around while I'm gone–outside, mind you, not in the house. You feel scared at all, or in danger, you just swing. I'll take care of whatever happens after."

"What if I hurt him?"

Harley scoffs, his gaze pointed out the window at the barn until he swiftly returns it to you. "Nothing you could do to him he doesn't already deserve."

"H-Harley, if Elias-"

"He won't." He stares you down with a cold, stoic gaze, one that you can only imagine would drive fear and panic into those who don't know his real tenderness. "He won't hurt you. He knows how bad I'll hurt him back if he even thinks of it. As dumb as he is, he likes living–at least in one piece."

“But Harley-” Your eyes have started to water without you paying notice. But he does notice, and takes you under his arms in reply in a bid to soothe your high-strung fears.

"Listen, I swear I wouldn't leave you if I didn't have to. If I could, I would gladly spend every second of my day next to you." Your heart jumps at that sentiment, leaving your ribcage to poorly mask the desperate thumping of that fragile heart of yours against his warm chest. "But there's just some things I need to take care of. I'll be right back as soon as possible, I promise."

Though Harley pulls away from you then, electing to look you in the eyes as he makes that vow, you still find yourself comforted while his presence steadily dwindles. The hatchet hangs heavy in your arms as you watch him tug on his leather jacket and boots at the door, his trapping gear strapped to his belt and a thick canvas sack rolled up and hung in his inner pocket. With a pat on the head and one last reassurance, he's gone–out the side door and across the field into the forest, his image melding into the shadows of midday under the branches before he disappears completely.

Harley won't be back for hours, most likely. You reach a shaky hand out and click the lock shut on the screen door.

In all honesty, you weren't expecting the afternoon to be so peaceful. But somehow, even though Harley had reassured you of his vowed harmlessness, hearing the distant shuffles of hooves, whistling, and creaking of the fences as Elias passively reminds you of his presence makes you feel even less at ease than you would alone. At least you wouldn't be second guessing those noises as you keep to the living room, trying vainly to busy yourself in Harley's absence but constantly remaining vigilant for any sound out of the ordinary.

Could he get into the house despite the lock? You think, and yes, he probably could. You've caught a few glimpses here and there through the window of his tending–seen how he's tugged and calmed the horses with ease even at their rowdiest, his lean frame betraying the undiscerning eye as he's of decently toned muscle underneath. But so far he hasn't spared a glance towards you, not even checked to see if you're looking at him and hoping for an in to get him close to you. For the most part, when left to his own devices, he seems content with minding his business.

It's only when you've lost yourself in tuning the radio on the counter that a knock on the side door gives you a fright, your hands coming down on the counter in search of some defense until you realize it's just Elias. Unlike before, he's quiet and polite as he requests a drink from the fridge, his eyes betraying no sense of deceit, just exhaustion. He's sweating buckets and keeping himself propped up on the doorway with his arm, soaked from belt to boots in mud that the horses must've kicked up as he brought them back to the stables.

It's that tired, worn-out image of him that's lead you to this development–the screen still firmly closed but not locked, with you sitting on the floor inside while Elias perches himself on a lawn chair by the steps. It feels a bit like a setup for two house cats trying to get used to each other…yet the bizarre nature of the interaction hasn't seemed to faze Elias yet, especially not when you graciously didn't object to giving him a beer despite it being nowhere near 5 PM. He cracks it open outside and lets the foam settle momentarily, his sip long and followed up by a sigh of relief as he enjoys his reprieve from a day's hard work. While he seems content to sit in silence, it soon becomes too tense when you have a question that's dying to come off your tongue.

"....Is Harley a bad person?"

You just end up blurting it out all at once, the context lost on him when these are some of the first words you've spoken to him. Yet you're met with a chuckle and a glance over his shoulder, before he settles back in his chair and returns his gaze to the woods off across the field.

"Mh…define 'bad'." His voice is smoother this time around, less flirtatious and coy, but his words put doubt and anxiety back into your mind.

"Does he hurt people? Is he…he's not some serial killer, o-or sexual predator, is he?" A long pause draws out like curdled milk, spoiling any optimism about your current situation the longer it drags on. But this time, the way Elias breaks the silence actually brings you relief.

"...Really haven't known each other long, huh?" Elias fishes around in his pocket, just barely tilting his can for a dribble of beer to splash out on the ground, before producing a cellphone from his pocket and handing it back to you through the crack in the door that you open tentatively. "Look him up if you wanna. Kunuk's his last name. K-U-N-U-K." He takes another sip and scans the wooded horizon for any potential threat, or perhaps just the sight of a bunny hopping about or a fox making its nest.

"I'll give you my two cents, though, bein' that we were married an' all. Har's a stubborn ass, but he's a good guy." Your thumbs poise over the cracked lower corner of the phone, the search engine open and the box blank while the cursor blinks endlessly, waiting for commands. You're tempted to do exactly what he said, yet your ears are still perked to listen to Elias' apparent wisdom…if you could call it that.

"...He's been nice to me, I just…"

"Don't trust people?" He turns his head to look at you over his shoulder from his peripheral, a pursed smile barely reaching his eyes as you nod and he takes another hefty drink. "Makes sense. Don't hurt to protect yourself, 'specially round here. Wouldn't worry about him, though–as scary as he looks, there ain't nobody you'd want more to help you if need be."

"...I just don't want to be hurt anymore." Your voice shakes with uncertainty, a bit of your inner self slipping out in a moment of weakness.

"Take it from me, sweets: he'll hurt everyone but you."

"Even you?" He scoffs lightheartedly at your quick retort, and drains the dregs of his can before crushing it flat with both hands.

"I gave as good as I got. You treat him nice, he'll follow you like a dog. Treat him bad, he'll bite ya like one." His beer can crinkles softly as it struggles to return to shape, before tinging off the side of the recycling bucket that sits further along the side of the house as he throws it. “He's honest, I'll give ‘em that.”

What more can you say to that? He's not wrong, at least not from what you've seen of Harley in the short time you've known each other. As you quietly hand Elias his phone back and slowly open the door wider in the process, your heart begs the question…is it really okay to let your guard down now? Part of you desperately wants that to be true, but the other part keeps your hand well in reach of the hatchet you've propped up beside you, just in case you end up being wrong…again.

"There's your man of the hour." Elias' cheeky tone diverts your focus from your own thoughts, your head whipping up to scan the wooded horizon for a sign of him. Unbeknownst to you, his eyes widen slowly as the scene comes into focus, his hands coming down to brace the chair as he gets up from his seat. Now, finally, you spot him and get to your feet to see him better, pushing the door open completely so you can peer out and see the outline of Harley's muscly form drawing closer into the field from far away. Yet something about the way he's staggering is…off.

"Why's he walking backwards?" Your voice doesn't seem to reach the cowboy, his gaze fixated on some point off in the distance past your companion. Without sparing you a glance backwards, he gestures at you with tense shoulders and an order to get the gun, all while you struggle to stay on your feet without putting pressure on your bad ankle.

"Gun? What gun? Elias-"

In the distance, the sound and sight of Harley cursing and stumbling as his body hits the ground causes you both to flinch. And behind him, skulking out of the woods in a predatory march, is a huge, brown bear.

Elias shoves past you in seconds, flying into the house and dashing up the stairs so fast he's almost skating up on all fours, while you duck out the screen door and slip on your way down the steps, coming to a crashing halt on your hands and knees in the grass. Tilting your head up, you spot Harley's huge frame turning over as he scrambles to his feet, and with a booming roar the bear finally breaks out of its tempered walk and into a vicious charge. For someone so tall and bulky, Harley makes quick work of the ground separating him from the safety of the cabin, but not nearly enough with a fully-grown grizzly on his heels–and especially not when he's clutching his shoulder, close enough that your heart seizes at the blood soaking his clothes and dripping off his fists while he sprints. Once his eyes meet Elias', you watch as he grits his teeth and dives into the grass at the last second.

"Down!"

From behind you Elias bellows, a quick glance back giving you the visage of his lean frame and toned arms holding up a shotgun to peer down the sights. With little courage to think otherwise you obey and clap your hands over your head, muffling the crackling boom of the gun firing overhead as your forehead brushes the grass. You're hunched over still with your eyes squeezed shut as two more shots ring out in succession, but with a stinging silence following the third blast you finally peer up and let your hands shakily falter from your ears.

Is it dead? The fuzzy lump of brown fur lays unmoving in the grass, glistening with blood, barely thirty feet away. Close enough that you can smell the forest on it amidst the cloud of gunpowder. But not close enough to measure Harley's state, as he lay facedown in the grass mere inches from the bear–tears prick at your eyes in horrified silence, your mouth left agape behind your fingers even while Elias' hand grips you under the arm and hauls you up to your feet. Whatever he's asking you doesn't even reach you through your shock until he shakes you, his gait forcing you to move with him as the two of you cautiously but swiftly approach the scene.

"Harley?" Your whimpers ring out so clearly in the tense air, your fingers trembling as you reach out to him. It's impossible to tell whether he's even breathing up until the moment he finally, finally lifts his head to look at you.

"Fuck me," He lets out a groan, dazedly pushing himself up off the ground for both you and Elias to grab an arm, somewhat helping to lift him back up on shaky feet and tower over both of you. The blood in his eyes has him squinting and moving to rub it away, but when he's got a clear picture in front of him he moves on instinct–right towards you, his arms sliding around your shoulders to bring you tightly into his warm chest. He's breathing so heavily, panting like a dog out of breath from the run, and yet all his strength pours into squeezing you so hard he's dripping blood all over your borrowed clothes.

"Y'okay?" Elias lets the gun hang at his side, somehow more awkward with it now than he was actually shooting at something, like it's too heavy for him to bear.

"Sure. Mostly." Harley pants above you and presses his palms into your back, hoping to soothe you with some gentle strokes up and down your spine as you let out your crying sobs. Meanwhile Elias steps over to the bear and nudges it with his pointed boot, surveying it from all angles until he's satisfied that it's no longer breathing. "Nice shot."

"Damn right–better than you'll ever be!" Elias smirks with pride, his ego inflating before your very eyes as he turns back to face you two. Harley couldn't care less at the moment, though, his lips brushing the crown of your head as he murmurs reassurances to you, hoping to combat the sniffles and quiet sobbing into his shirt. "Hell! Ain't had bear meat in years–this fella's gonna taste so good!"

Somehow, even though you can feel Harley's hackles raise when he's around, the cowboy's dark humour raises your spirits a bit–it's at least enough to stifle your crying, his joking around killing the tension of the situation as he playfully picks up the bear's limp paw and waves it at you, which you're a bit ashamed to say gives you a giggle through the tears. He squabbles a bit with your companion about dragging it into the shed for him to butcher, but after awhile Harley convinces him to do it outside–by himself–and dispose of the entrails afterwards. Either way he's still off to get the tools to do so, and in the meantime Harley leads you back into the house and offers some newer, cleaner clothes to change into while he gets under a much-needed shower.

It's only a matter of time before you're sitting back on that same couch by the window, listening to the muffled sounds of water hitting the tiles in the room over, and peering out into the yard to see Elias hacking away at the carcass with a saw. Every so often you get a glimpse of him getting splashed in the face with a spurt of blood, or cursing audibly when he gets some on his hat, but soon enough he's carrying off huge chunks of meat back to the shed and picking hairs off his wet sleeves in the interim. Occasionally your ears perk at the sound of humming emanating from the bathroom, and the smell of blood that permeates the dirt and Harley's clothes mingles with the freshness of soap and aftershave.

Elias pops his head in the door and bids you goodbye sooner than you expected, his work rushed along by the gathering of dark, ominous clouds overhead. With a few string-tied paper packages under his arm he wishes you luck, but for what for you don't know. He only flashes you a wink and leaves a package behind before he slips back out the door, his car starting up and rolling down the gravel driveway just before the rain hits and starts pounding the soil and the grass outside.

"Dickhead. That's gonna be a mess to clean up when it stops."

Evidently Elias just barely missed him, because as if he popped up from thin air Harley's suddenly standing in the living room; bare-chested with soaked hair, a towel strung just low enough on his waist that your eyes instantly flick away. Your cheeks grow hot at the sight of that thick, dark smattering of hair trailing down his lower stomach, the image burned into your mind while you try to force those ideas of what he looks like further down out of your head. You finally have to force yourself to meet his eyes, but he's already looking at you once you do and you can only imagine what he's thinking. But, then, his gaze shifts to the paper-wrapped package on the counter and he breathes a soft sigh.

"I'm gonna start dinner soon. Gimme a hand?"

Of course I will. I'd do anything for you. The words beg to be released but you squash them right back down, swallow them back into your throat in a lump while you nod and wobble to your feet to wash up yourself while he gets dressed.

When you come back with clean hands and he's changed into fresh clothes from his wardrobe, there's a chair sitting at the counter across from him and a myriad of utensils and ingredients spread out everywhere. When you sit, he slides a wood-grain cutting board over and delicately hands you a knife, before piling a few damp potatoes in front of you for peeling.

The quietness between you doesn't faze you, really. You're used to people around you needing to break the silence, fearful of letting the air grow stagnant and causing an awkward shuffle for conversation–but this feels normal in some strange way, just like it did this morning. Maybe it's been helped by the time you spent with Elias. Harley ties his hair back and focuses entirely on the food, he strips the meat and trims the fat before tossing it into a pot over the stove, washes the vegetables, chops and drizzles oil in his pan and adjusts the heat without ever feeling like he has to entertain you. It's like watching him go about his business as he would whether you were there or not, which is oddly comforting as you take great pains to peel the skins off the potatoes without missing a single spot.

"Is your shoulder okay?" You finally break the silence not out of necessity, but because there's a lull in activity and you can't help but let your eyes wander towards his injury. It's wrapped at the very least, albeit clumsily. Part of you wishes you'd offered to help him, if only out of the desire to see his naked chest up close as the bandages peek out from beneath his flannel.

"S'fine," He rolls it out, wincing at the sting when the muscle stretches just a touch too taut. "Just grazed me. Nothin' to worry about."

"I am worried, though." You slice off a mushy spot on the potato and let it fall into the pile of abandoned peels. "You were bleeding a lot. What even happened?"

"It just smelled the game I picked up, wasn't like it was hunting me. I dropped it, figured it'd go after it, but it caught me when I tried to get away. Just had to keep it off my back til I got home." You're the last person to have any authority on the outdoors with your habits, but even so, something doesn't seem right with the way Harley explains it all. You can't quite place it at the moment, but his whole explanation just seems…odd.

Just then, as you're lost in thought and the sound of peels shlupping off the blade fills your ears, a wince of pain from your companion catches your attention. There, just beneath the hem of his sleeve, his wrist flexes with the weight of the pot and you spot it: a bright, fleshy patch of swollen skin running down his palm, the tender redness visibly aching with the sting of what could only be a burn. Harley definitely hadn't burned himself before he left this afternoon, nor did it just happen because you certainly would've noticed him yank his hand back if he'd burned it on the stove just now.

“...What about the burn on your hand?"

The thought escapes so quickly you don't have a chance to grab it. Curiosity seems to be your never-ending folly, yet your breath only barely quickens as he turns and looks down at you to answer. As brown and warm they are, as deep as they look, those eyes feel steely in this brief pause of a moment. Harley blinks absentmindedly, perhaps processing what you just said…and he speaks, slowly, softly, as if he were inching towards a deer alone in the depths of the woods.

"I found a campfire someone left burning.” His attention focuses back on the pot, a steady hand stirring the mixture to keep it from scorching. “Probably the same people that lured that bear with their picnic. People don't know how to treat the woods.”

In and out, Harley loosens that sigh and lets it slip into the air between you. It hangs there, swinging heavy like a pendulum, and the urge to keep the rest of your thoughts to yourself wins over all else. Maybe you still don't believe that, but…maybe you're just being a little paranoid.

The cabin wasn't anything special. It's tightly packed into an invisible square; the space of the house is small and dense in the tiny lot that it's allowed, but even that much is too much in these sacred woods. This place is where he found peace growing up, the trees listened to every secret he whispered and kept each one of them to the grave.

Now there's a little shit-shack taking up a spot here, garbage strewn outwards on the driveway and the root-laden lawn like the house itself is radiating filth. There was, at one time, an old lady that lived here alone. Mom–Erika, Elias' mom–used to take him by the hand and walk here to bring her things on occasion, be it pies wrapped in warm foil or casseroles with a dish towel draped over the top to keep the bugs at bay. It hadn't been long after that that they stopped seeing her, so his memory's still foggy, but he can still feel the ache of her knobby fingers pinching his cheek and the croak of her aging voice as she asked him about school and how he was getting on with Elias’ antics.

Seeing the place as it is now after being forgotten for so long, the matches in his pocket suddenly don't seem as heavy as they once felt. It's hard to tell with how the windows are blocked over, but by the absence of sound coming from within and the missing car, the new tenant must be out.

Leaves crinkle underfoot as he slips around the tree from which he's been watching, making short work of the distance from that hill to the door around the back of the cottage. As expected for one who lives out in the sticks, this door's been left unlocked–and in he goes, expecting all manner of frights yet with no idea of what's really awaiting him, the depth of cruelty and twisted fascination that meets his eyes once the hallway gives way to a bedroom. It's so cramped there's barely any room to look around more, the floor littered with papers and garbage that he's careful to step around with his damp boots. At least, even if he leaves footprints, they'll be the first thing to go when he finishes his business here. But more pressing than that are the photos tacked up over a hobbled old desk, the blackened fade of a marker ‘x'ing out all the subjects within…except for one.

It's you.

Every picture, every day, every lens flare and obscurity captured with the fervor of someone so obsessed that anything is better than nothing. Photos of you cluster around every spare inch of that corkboard and extend out to almost the entirety of the whole wall, not to mention the ones that catch overhead as he walks by that hang on clotheslines stretched across the ceiling. They're everywhere. This room–the collection, the garbage, the soiled bed in the corner, the draped-over windows–it reeks of you, and yet there's not a hint of life to suggest you've ever stepped foot here. He was right. But that doesn't stop Harley's fists from shaking with fury, a violent inferno building up within him as he catches glimpses of you in every peripheral. Twisted images of what this freak has been up to boil him into a rage barely quenched, and the vibrating intensity of his blood pounding in his ears only makes way when he finally tunes in to the presence of someone behind him.

"Who the hell are you?!" He's turned in a flash, so fast the man flinches at the reaction. It's him. He wants to know who the hell he is, huh? He wants to know the truth? He looks so confused at the sight of him, and he will stay that way until the end.

Harley mutters under his breath, fists shaking around the axe as he raises it over his head. Those bug-eyes widen in shock, but makes way for a type of fear reserved only for the horror of realizing one has met their own end.

After the bloodbath that ensues, it's all as much as a blur in his mind. A belt buckle catching on roots, a trail of blood, sloshing, the strike of a match in an otherwise empty soundscape…it's like the forest itself extended its tendrils and cast a veil over the villa, blanketing his world in silence as the house goes up in flames.

"Ever eaten bear before?"

Your mind has wandered quite far in the silence that's followed, to the point that the sound of Harley's voice startles you somewhat as you sit there gazing out the window. The potatoes have been peeled and cut, the scraps gathered for feed, and the pot that Harley's stirring is bubbling softly and smells divine.

"No, can't say I have." You smile up at him warmly as he turns to look at you, his gentle question soothing whatever worries remain in your heart. "Is it good? Or…gamey?"

"No, no, you'll like this. Trust me." His enthusiasm at your question is adorable–he gives the pot another stir before lifting the spoon out, and offers you a taste of the broth as a preamble for the bowl. He leans in close, palm cupped under the spoon to catch the mess, and the little mountain of potato chunks, meat, and softened vegetables explode into a firecracker of flavour the moment it all hits your tongue. Sure, the bear is a bit chewier than you're used to, but it's fresh and full of meaty juices that just scream ‘hearty’.

"Good?" Even if it wasn't, which it certainly isn't, you wouldn't have the heart to crack that hopeful look in his eyes. You're beyond glad you don't have to, and that your tongue swiping out to lick your lips is not an exaggeration but a sincere compliment. It's delicious.

"I'm glad." The smile that melts those hard-cut features warms you, but it only reaches his eyes for a moment before it starts to fade. "I don't get to cook for anyone anymore. I'm not great, but…it's one of the few things I like."

"I like your cooking!" You blurt out with some passive indignation, somehow aghast at the very thought of it not being true–the idea that anyone would tell him otherwise just boggles the mind.

Harley hums in response, his prideful smile providing you a look into his heart–all you sense is warmth and kindness, both of which you've craved so deeply you'd started to believe they didn't exist at all. While he switches off the burner, you slide out from your seat to pad around the counter and pick out the plates, eager to set the table as he reaches out to try and catch you–but the stew still needs his focus as it finishes, and you get a kick out of ducking away from him in a laugh as he tries not to let you exert yourself. Your ankle's feeling a great deal better, though, and finally Harley relents once you've started fussing about with the table setting.

Two glasses, two plates, two forks and knives, two pieces of bread and two bowls for the stew. The sight of it all laid out puts you at ease, but why? Is it simply because you're happy not to be alone? Or is it entirely because it's the man you're with that makes it feel so reassuring?

Either way, you need no ushering to take your spot and sit as Harley lifts the pot off the stove, carrying it as one would carry a modest book with his total herculean strength. Once the ladle comes out and he's filled both your bowl and his, you're practically squirming in your seat in anticipation as he takes his place across from you. The day has been tiring, emotionally, physically, and otherwise. This dinner feels like a reward, and who better to share it with than him?

But as you start to eat, and you tear a chunk off the roll that Harley made a couple days ago, the fear starts to creep back in. He's got his spoon practically glued to his mouth, understandably hungry after all he went through today…but can you really accept this as normal? Can you not admit that a few too many things have been off, and that you have questions you're still dying to find the answers to?

You've long considered your inability to settle down an annoyance, an unhealthy habit that prevents you from having fun and just living in the moment. But here, now, in this strange house with this strange man, you could imagine that such a habit might just save your very life.

"Can I ask you a question?" He hums and nods quietly, engaged almost entirely in his meal. If nothing else, you have to appreciate his impartial appetite. You dip your spoon in your bowl, careful not to take a bigger bite than necessary before you ask it…after all, it could blow up in your face for real this time.

"Elias, he…talked to me about you. He said you were trustworthy, and honest, even though you can come off…elsewise." Finally Harley raises an eyebrow, but his spoon pauses only briefly before he keeps eating, eyes trained completely on you. "I know you said he's annoying, but…why don't you get along with him? Really?"

You pick your words so carefully, yet Harley stares back at you like he's listening to an alien speak. It's unsettling, the way he just stops like he's frozen in place and picks you apart with nothing but a pallid gaze.

"Those are some big words." He eventually states plainly, and downs another heaping spoonful of his dinner. He seems to have picked the biggest chunk of meat he could find just so he could chew it for an eternity while he comes up with a better answer. Now his eyes don't meet yours the whole time he does, pointed down towards the spot behind his bowl like he's thinking the hardest he ever has.

"He's just selfish." He mutters after finally swallowing.

"...That's it?"

"He only talks to people if he thinks he can get something outta them. He'd rather take things from other people than get them himself."

"Were you ever in love?" The sigh he lets out, the fingers he runs through his hair, it strickens you with a moment of panic. That's a question that could certainly cross the line–but he clearly isn't as upset as you feared as he shrugs and sips another spoonful of the broth.

"...I don't know anymore. When I was a kid? Sure, I probably thought so. But…" His brown eyes pan up to you, and for the first time he fumbles with his next thought before he can get it out. "...I think I know better now."

You flush, and quietly sip down your own spoonful of broth. The meaty taste hangs heavy on your tongue, but it shifts into a sweeter sensation as it warms your throat on the way down.

"What about you?" He lifts his glass to his lips, his tone somewhat lighter like the weight of those thoughts have finally lifted off his mind. "You ever been in love?"

"No." Your tone flattens the whimsy of the conversation in an instant. Guilt starts to filter in at the realization, knowing he just poured his heart out to you…and then you start to fumble. "I mean…I-I'd like to be. But I just haven't felt that feeling yet, I don't even know what it feels like."

What sounds like a hum emanates from your partner, his next bite filling the silence as he chews thoughtfully.

"To me, it feels like home.” The tender, sweet tone he suddenly takes on oozes a sense of nostalgia, and without meaning to you're suddenly staring him down, rapt with attention as you hang quietly off his every word. “It feels like…knowing there's someone waiting for me, that they're missing me when I'm gone. That I have someone to come home to who helps me forget that the rest of the world exists."

Someone waiting for me. Someone that misses me when I leave. Someone who never wants me to go in the first place.

"Do I make you feel that way?"

It flies out of your mouth before you can pull the thought back, your hands left empty and cold as your heart slows to a sudden stop. Even Harley himself looks taken aback by your bluntness, silent and staring you down with his spoon poised just over his bowl.

That silence is deafening. This is the moment you were dreading. This is what you've wrought after all this paranoia: you've completely and totally made an absolute fool of yourself.

"...I-I have to use the bathroom."

Your ankle barely twinges with the pain you've adjusted to as you catapult yourself out of your chair, the legs squeaking as they scrape the ground followed by the loud, harsh thud of the bathroom door slamming shut behind you. It barely felt like you moved at all, yet the panic ensured that the shock in his expression burns itself into your mind permanently.

What an idiot. What a foolish, stupid, invasive thing to ask, what an absolute mess you've made of all of this. If Harley really felt that way, would he have just said it out loud? He seems to let go of all his thoughts with refreshing bluntness, so you can only imagine that this whole time it's been a farce. All those gestures you considered affectionate, all those kind words, those reassurances, that hug and the bed you shared–they were either the expressions of an overly affectionate friend or a person that's retained only surface-level feelings for you. Not love. How could it possibly be love? You've barely known each other a day!

It's stupid. It's just…it's all so stupid. This is the first time in these last couple days that you actually want to go home–you just want to leave this all, forget about Harley and all your messy feelings, and go back to the hell that you know because at least it'll be familiar.

It takes a long, long time for you to finally creak open the bathroom door, having agonized on whether to return to the table like nothing happened or just make a break straight for the front door. When you come back to the kitchen, your eyes flit towards the table to see it's been completely cleared away. Harley's rinsing a bowl in the sink and drying his hands on the towel, his back to you as you approach with no clue how to resume the conversation, or how to break the palpable tension at all.

But when he turns to face you, he shows no sign of even remote surprise at your return. His brown eyes pierce right through you, body and all–and before you can get a word out, he's suddenly coming closer and silences you with a kiss that completely takes your breath away. Heavy hands braced on your waist, he leans into the pressure of his mouth on yours to pin you right up against the counter, his palm snaking up the small of your back to hold you completely in place, completely pressed up against him.

What the hell? Are the first words that come to mind, but saying them would give off the reaction that's opposite to what you intend. Harley's warm. He's warm and he's right up against you, holding you, sinking his whole heart into this kiss as if he fears it may be his one and only. Your body melts against his force regardless of your anxiety, but that too seems to wane in the face of lips so soft and breath so hot it prickles your skin when he finally breaks it off. Harley's panting fills your whole space while his grip reasserts itself–he brings one hand up to cup your cheek, his rough thumb rubbing your smooth skin as he stands there and just takes you in.

"You do make me feel that way. You have since the first second I laid eyes on you." That gruff, callous indifference that you've seen in him on occasion has completely evaporated here. All that remains in his eyes is devotion, pure and sweet as milk.

"Harley-" His lips meet yours again, pressing you so firmly into another kiss you feel your head tilting back to accept it–Harley kisses you like he's dying for more and it's exactly what you wanted. This is what you wanted since the moment he laid his gentle hands on you, and you couldn't even put your finger on it because you were so scared of getting hurt.

"I didn't want you to leave–I don't want you to leave. I kept asking, I…I was afraid you'd say no." He murmurs in between kisses, groping at your body to keep you close despite you not making any move to go anywhere.

"I want to stay with you, Harley." You whisper back against his lips, which somehow seems to be the thing that stops him in his tracks and sobers him into speaking eye-to-eye.

"If you stay with me," He breathes out. "I will never let you go. You hear me? I won't let anyone steal you away from me, and I'll do whatever I need to do to protect you. You need to be sure." His hand brushes by your cheek to stroke your hair, needily touching you regardless of how fresh this development seems to be. He doesn't know how much you've been needing him back, though.

“I am.” You hush in reply, your voice sure and smooth as springwater. “I've never been more sure of anything.”

“I'm serious.” He murmurs as he holds your face with both of those massive, calloused hands. “I won't let you go. I won't forget about you. I will make you mine.” Those words are meant as a warning, but all you hear are the reassurances you've wanted for so, so long. Love, protection…and if it comes to pass, obsession. It's the wrong thing to ask for, you know it is. But the closeness and the care he's shown you, and wants to show you, are more than you could ever think to ask for.

You press your answer into his lips as firmly as you can. What melts you even more isn't that he accepts, nor does it so readily as he exchanges the lock of your mouths with twice as much fervor. It's that he breaks the kiss quicker than he wanted to with a grunt, and peels himself off of you like you've suddenly grown too cold to bear.

“Shit.” He glances around, avoiding your gaze until he's of the mind to draw back from you almost completely, face hot with guilt as his body reacts to your closeness. What he means soon becomes more obvious since he's put some distance between you–you can't help your eyes wandering downwards, and suck in a breath through your teeth in shock at his…enthusiastic reaction to your acceptance of his love. “I'm sorry.”

Harley's fingertips brush down your arms, still not quite able to break himself off from your touch entirely. He's got a look about him that says something more, the quick flit of his glances at you and the cautious hesitance of his flesh grazing yours hinting towards his own shyness. Maybe it's in this moment of exposure that he's able to push that wall down that he's been hiding behind, his true feelings coming to light after sheltering them for so long. Just as he's making a hurried excuse to nip into the bathroom for a moment, you put him on pause with your warm palms pressed to his firm chest.

“Stay.”

“What?” His expression cringes with incredulity. Did you really just say that? is written all over it.

“Stay, please.” You repeat yourself, your fingers curling inward to drag your nails lightly over his tough flannel. His arousal commands attention you're not quite sure you're confident enough to tend to, but you can't let it squander now. As meek as you are about it you gently place a kiss on his chin, and allow your hips to drift indiscriminately forward until they bump against his. At once he gasps through his gritted teeth, and though he grabs you in a tight hold as if to stop you, he doesn't make an effort to move you away as your clothes catch on his tented fly. Every movement seems to stir him further, a benign hug like the allure of a siren when he's this stiff and pent up for you.

“You know what you're asking?” His breathing labours the instant you press yourself up against him. He's just barely, barely holding himself back, keeping his composure together by nothing but a thin thread. “I don't own condoms or nothin’.”

“I guess we have to get used to it.” Your answer feels so innocent, yet so decadent in Harley's current state, that he offers you only a flash of lust across his gaze before he's hauling you up over his shoulder like a sack of flour. Across the living room, up the stairs, down the hall–the air peppered with a yelp and sudden laughter from you and grunts out of him as he rushes to his bedroom like a firefighter carrying you to safety. With a careful toss he's slung you down over the bed minus any potential strain on your part, and with the door kicked closed and a heady desire in his eyes he starts stripping layer after layer off of you like he can't wait a moment longer to see you in all your glory. You'd almost forgotten his injury until he stripped his own shirt off, his shoulder soaking the gauze with blood from his effort but not enough to bother him into stopping.

“Should we be doing this?” Your voice strains in a whisper as you watch him struggling to undo his jeans.

“I don't know.” He pants softly, pausing to press a heated kiss to your mouth before he returns to the task at hand. “I don't want you to regret it. But I really…like you.” He swallows that answer like a pill. It confuses him even more to hear you giggle, though.

“No, I meant–your shoulder, you're okay, right?”

Harley's whole face flushes as he realizes what you meant, and that his awkward yet tenderly sincere answer wasn't at all something he needed to say out loud. But though he coughs and shamefully mumbles out that he's fine, you can sense the ease that settles in the droop of his shoulders when you sit up and take the place of his fumbling hands with your own. In seconds you've got his button open, and with another kiss to the corner of his lips you delight in the shudders down his spine as you slowly drag his zipper down over his bulge.

“Hey, big guy.” You tease with a gleeful smile. Your eyes roam unashamedly the moment he's got his underwear tugged down.

“Shut up.” He huffs, embarrassed but somewhat proud at the way you stare so openly and in awe. Elias always had plenty to say about his body, but he was a sweet-talker. Your words are the only ones he really believes, which makes it all the more obvious how he's trying to appeal to you more as you start exploring him with your fingers, tracing your nails down his waist towards where it really counts.

“Harley?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we…” Your touch halts at the precipice, just barely within a hair's length of taking this to the next level. Forced to swallow at the realization that his endowment could prove an obstacle, you find yourself more humble about all those other things you're used to fretting about…they don't seem as pressing and scary when you're with him. “Can we…take it slow? I don't, uh…I don't really know what I'm doing.” You admit it guiltily, but Harley sighs a breath of apparent relief and settles in a bit more comfortably once you say it.

“It's okay.” He smoothes a hand over your neck, brushing the stray hairs away to pull you in for a warm kiss. “Yeah, I'm fine with that. It's been awhile for me, too.” The sound of him clearing his throat fills the thick air in the room. No matter where he is, it always seems like he's far away but so close he could be inside you at the same time. Despite trying to stay composed, Harley's eyes wander in the quiet moments that linger behind, and his shyness turns to intrigue and confidence the more he sweeps his gaze over your nude figure perched on his bed.

“...You look even better naked.”

“Are you sure?” The question comes out teasing and playful even though, at the heart of it, you're really serious about asking it.

“I'm sure.” Harley's breath hitches as you move, your nervous shifting to get comfortable causing a ripple effect through his body; a feast for his eyes at the new angles and a sight that makes him twitch in excitement down below. “Really fucking good. Your skin's like…velvet.” His voice reduces to a growl as he lets his hand roam, his fingers ghosting up your inner thigh until he settles his palm flush with your skin and starts rubbing the sensitive area with a possessiveness you've seldom experienced. “...Maybe I'll finally start buyin’ condoms after this.”

As much as you'd like to fire off some cheeky reply to that, there's not much willpower you can draw on when such a massive, hot-blooded man is squeezing your inner thigh and leaning in with the intention to please. He holds your gaze to ensure you're watching, and raises his hand up to his mouth while not breaking eye contact. He gently pushes his fingers past his lips, his soft tongue catching glimpses of the light as he coats them in spit, before reaching down quickly and hurrying to nudge them between your thighs. Whatever resistance you might consider is moot and futile. Why would you resist? Harley's gotten the full picture of you from end to end, hair to hide, and he…likes you. You heard as much from his own mouth.

Emboldened by his bravery, you scooch back just an inch to get a better picture of what he's attempting. His fingers hover lightly, itching to move in while still slick, and eager despite Harley swallowing around the lump in his throat as he mentally prepares for what's next. The spastic heaving of his breath is what leads you to bury your face in his neck and slowly guide his hand to slide his knuckles down your folds.

“Fuck.” The timing of his moan is almost comical. He wasn't expecting you to be that wet, surely, nor for your hips to jump when he manages to brush the tips of his fingers against the soaked edges of your entrance. Your body wants him so badly it's practically opening up for him–and despite the way you hide and cling to him in shame, he can't help chuckling lowly as he slowly spreads you open on his fingers. You can't hide the trembling shift of your thighs, or the squeezes of desperation as your walls welcome the long-awaited visitor. “Kiss me.”

It's a trap. The moment you lift your head, Harley's lips come down on you hard enough to knock you down; you go from sitting up to laid out on your back in moments, his knee sliding over your leg to drag it open further as he slips his fingers in deeper, past every knuckle until he hits that sweet spot that has you crying out into his mouth. This way you can't hide, can't smother your noises, and can't even whine about it–Harley flops down next to you with a satisfied, almost cocky grin while you wriggle and squirm on the edge of your seat.

“You're cute.” His voice is like a purr in your ear. Accompanied by the increasingly wet squelching of his fingers buried deep within you, it's hard not to feel like your whole world is nothing but Harley when he's showering you in attention you felt like you could never earn. He nuzzles his nose into your neck and pecks you lightly with a kiss that quickly turns more possessive–his teeth make an appearance at your tender skin, and though you anticipate a bite, he only scratches you lightly on the ends before tenderly sinking in. The deep, hard suck that follows accompanies a firm thrust of his fingers deeper inside, each one working in tandem to pull you apart and press you back together like warm, sweet strings of caramel.

“Ha-Harley,” You whimper out amongst the slick sounds of desperate pleasure, your stomach twisting up and tightening with your abdomen as Harley lays into you with his hands. His hard cock has been bobbing along your thigh as he fingers you, sliding dryly against your skin yet beading at the tip with need. He's grown swollen and stiff as bricks, but the moment you reach down to touch him you're stopped–his free arm slides under your neck as a cushion and he grabs your wrist before it moves, his stare hard and piercing despite the dark tinge to his cheeks.

“Not about me right now.” He mutters against your skin and presses his lips just below your ear, just above the spot he's made a distinct mark. “Just focus on this.”

“But I-” You cut yourself off with a squeal as Harley curls his fingers inward and hooks them against some deep, rough spot inside you that you've never realized was there. His tongue peeks out to flick at the bruise on your neck, lightly massaging the wound he made in the hopes that it'll soothe your nerves, and allow you to focus on the pleasure that's racing through your veins from top to bottom. “Ah-!”

The slick sounds ring in your ears–shuk shuk shuk shuk–as he takes you apart in every measured thrust of his fingers, his dark eyes locked on the curve of your throat as your head tilts back in ecstasy. When your eyes squeeze shut to focus on gripping the sheets and whatever else is in reach, Harley's skin grazes yours in a heated descent as he kisses his way down your body, trailing each one down your belly until his shoulders are settled between your sticky thighs. He turns his hand slowly to swirl the pads of his fingers inside you, and once he's there and staring up at you through hooded eyes he leans down and laps a slow, soft stroke of his tongue through your folds. The sudden jerk of your hips doesn't dissuade him, the reaction just makes him laugh in a deep, lusty tone as he focuses the tip on circling round your clit while his other hand presses your thigh down on the bedspread.

“Harley! Harley, Harley–H-Harley, ah-!” Your cries pierce the air but don't have any urgency aside from pleasure, no warning aside from wanting the sensations to continue even if you can't bear to look down at what he's doing. Harley's tongue lazily smothers your hot button in spit, his pink muscle a brush and your body a blank canvas. Each swirl of your hips as you mindlessly grind back into him feels traitorous, sinful against the sweetness you've tried to show him, and yet Harley acts as though you're just as innocent and beautiful as the moment he started touching you. It feels wrong to be taking pleasure from him in this way and to have all his attention focused on you, but Harley couldn't look more pleased when you finally peer down at him through the spaces between your shaky fingers.

“Hi.”

He interrupts the slick silence, as the bedroom is filled with nothing but panting and the wet shlups of him fingering you into oblivion. For once, he's got an almost cheeky grin on his face that's plastered with the wet sheen of your arousal down his chin. The hand that had been keeping your thighs apart reaches over your body to clutch at your elbow, but you quiver and close your fingers over your face again before he can try to pull them away.

“Look at me. Look.” His reassuring tone eases you into peeking out again, only to whine when you feel his thick fingers slide out and watching his lips purse as he messily sucks your taste off of them. You want to hide again…but you just can't stop watching. “That's my girl.” He murmurs, and slides those same fingers up the crest of your mound to rub more pressure into your now very swollen, very needy clit. “You gonna cum?” His whisper as he kisses your thigh has you upright in a jolt, your hands flying down from your face to grip the locks of his long, dark hair.

“Uh huh..” Harley's eyelids flutter into a lower, lustful gaze at how sweetly you whimper at him. His kisses trail inward until he reaches those soft lips again, and without another word to keep his mouth at bay he seals it over your entrance and starts to suck. That devious tongue of his wriggles like a coiled tentacle inside you, completely damning you in that weak moment as your hips start jutting and humping off the bed fully while you lose your composure in hot, wild abandon. Whatever foreplay had come before this was cinema–this is pure lovemaking, Harley's grunting like that of a beast as he eats you alive, and your body wasting its clamped tensity as you just let the moment finally take you over. His fingers dig into your waist to keep you down while you shake with want. The only moments where he lets up are to drag his tongue through your folds and push it back against your clit again, to purse his lips around it like a soft candy and suck until his mouth turns flush. That's where you eventually meet your end, your walls clamping down on nothing but air as he holds you tight and drags your orgasm out of you with a nibble of his teeth and a hard, suckling dance of his tongue until you've shaken yourself into a limp, hazy stupor against the pillows.

The next moment he draws you to his presence is when he's already kissed you. His arms flex minutely as he presses his hands to the bed, he hovers over you like a mountainous wall of muscle and scars while his tongue presses soft and wet against your lips. They're moist and cool, sticky from the air against his slick-stained skin and the sweat that drips down his back.

“I left bruises,” He pants. “Hope that's okay.”

“It's fine,” You whisper in a hushed voice, hoarse from the moans of his name that you're glad nobody would be able to hear. There's nobody else for miles. Where it once would've made you scared, now it does nothing less than comfort you.

“I love you.”

“I…love you too.” Chu. He kisses you again. A little harder this time.

“I'm glad.” Harley sits back on his haunches and waits, his hands lingering on your hips and over the bruises he left from grabbing you. He still hasn't wiped his chin, but it looks like he doesn't really intend to. It takes a while for you to manage the strength to sit up, but when you do, he's there to brace you and pull you up by your elbows to come chest to chest.

“Harley…I wanna do more.” You watch his throat bob as he swallows and his tongue flicks out to run across his bottom lip. He knows what you mean, thank god.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Say it again,” He breathes hotly against your lips, just barely brushing them with his own. “Say that you love me, and you want me inside you.” You shudder in response, his choice of words stirring something up inside you that you're still shy about giving up.

“...Please. I love you, Harley.” You close the gap with a gentle kiss and slide your arms up under his, the soft peaks of your chest squeezing up against him in a way that makes his breath hitch. “I want you to feel good. I wanna be the one to make you feel good.” The words come out so easily here. Somehow they don't even make you blush. But they certainly draw a rush of blood into Harley's face, who can't tear his eyes off you as he lays you back down to loom over you like he did before. Breathless, sweaty, tongue heavy in his mouth, and his eyes absolutely glazed with a combination of lust and love so thick they're indistinguishable from one another.

"Okay," Already panting softly in anticipation, he grabs hold of one of the pillows by your head and taps you on the hip to lift them up and off the bed. Once he's slid it beneath your butt, he moves you with those rough hands to flip over so you're laid on your belly, the pillow propping up your hips while he climbs over your legs and sits back on his knees to survey the sight before him. Your inner thighs glisten with slick that begs to be licked off, yet you can feel it in the rough way he grabs both cheeks in his hands that as much as he wants to, he's got what you asked for on the mind instead.

Harley's chest meets your back inch by inch as he lays himself down flat on top of you, bending over further and further until his warmth encroaches on your delicate skin and you jerk at the feeling of his weight settling on top of you. His strong arms perch at both sides of your head and a gentle kiss behind your ear is enough to soothe you that he's not going to crush you. His cockhead teases your opening, smearing precum and slick up and along your folds as he tests the resistance of your body against his frightening size.

“Are you scared?” His voice rumbles deeply through your back. Despite the slow shake of your head you're trembling like a leaf beneath him. A hand slides up your belly to cup your breast, soft and jiggly in his palm while he continues the trail of kisses down the side of your neck. “I won't hurt you. I swear.” He grazes the swollen, rubbery tip further through your folds, just barely prodding you and lubing himself up by grinding his length up and down, up and down again. He's really trying not to make it sting.

“I love you, Harley.” Your hips push back to meet him, urging him closer and hurrying his hesitation.

“I know, peaches.” He hums back, the nickname slipping out by accident in the heat of him starting to press into you, finally. “I know. I love you too.”

Then comes the stretch. The sting. The breath is squeezed out of your lungs the further he pushes, that rigid heat pulsing and scalding your every inch of tender flesh as he sinks so, so endlessly deep. Harley's hair slips down his shoulders and tickles your skin as his head hangs down over you, his stomach straining against your lower back to keep himself upright as he sinks into pure, heavenly bliss. No amount of preparation could've ensured a seamless entry with his breathtaking size, but the thickness of his fingers and the heft of his tongue were certainly worthy preludes to the goliath that Harley's managed to fit so impossibly snug inside you. He can barely keep himself present, his mind begging for him to float away on urges and primal instincts as his cock flexes inside you with need. The shakiness of his breaths against your ear make you think he's desperately trying not to cum–so do the ripples of the sheets beneath you as his fingernails dig roughly into them, his spare hand gripping your chest to the point of bruising. At the end of this all your body will be littered with Harley's possessive marks, and in some great way you feel that's how it's meant to be. It's what you really want.

Harley's position shifts up your back with a sudden jerk forward. The pressure squashes you flat against the sheets and leaves only your hips propped up by the pillow, yet it too strains under Harley's immense strength as he starts to spread you open with deep, slow thrusts. His heart, as steady and healthy as it is, beats like a rabbit's against your spine with the frenzy of lust. Shluk. Shluk. Shluk. Your body speaks for you in the sound it makes with every deep, intimate kiss he presses to your walls deep within. He fumbles with your chest with comparative meekness, his callused fingers sliding and pressing across the sweet flesh before coming to your nipple. He pinches it a bit hard with a thrust stealing his steadiness away, but at your wounded squeak he circles it with his thumb and apologizes with kisses up the side of your cheek. On top of you he resembles more a weighted blanket than a man, he covers you so entirely that he could nearly smother you.

"I like you like this." He murmurs into your ear.

"L-Like how? From beh–nnh–behind?"

"Yeah," He groans against your skin and sends a shudder down your back, another kiss lowered and pressed back to your shoulder. "But not what I was gonna say. Mnh.” His voice resonates through your bones like a lascivious vibrato. “...So fuckin’ wet.”

As he rumbles, your thighs press flat into the sheets with his weight and your skin smears with a growing puddle in the sheets–your arousal and his precum mix to trail down your legs like the puddle you feel your heart melting into. Harley's love and tenderness in his touch makes you want to throw your head back and scream as if you don't deserve it. But instead, you just feel tears coming on as all those feelings come to a head.

"Too rough?" He pants above you, breathlessly spotting kisses across the sweat-soaked skin of your neck. “Hey.” He brushes the base of your neck in a soothing sweep, his thumb coming down to rub circles into the taut skin as he listens for your little voice in the thick haze.

“No…no, s-so–so good,” Your moan echoes off his bedroom walls, barely able to reach his ears in the heat that's taken over the two of you. You're messing with a stranger, having unprotected, premarital sex–you would think this would be a moment you'd straighten up and be a good girl, but alas. You've been taken in by a wild man living on the outskirts of society, whose grin curves up against your skin as he humps his hips forward, hard.

“Gettin’ what you want,” He grunts, his thrusts papping wetly against you as skin meets skin, his body completely attuned to yours in the moment. It's like he's not another person anymore, but rather an extension of you…an extension of your pleasure as he draws it out with every movement he makes. “Makin’ me feel like–fuck,” With a gasp he shudders to a quick halt. The weight lifts off your body as he sits up and back on his haunches, his warmth still buried snugly inside you where he belongs, but he ghosts a rough hand down your spine before it comes to rest on the middle of your back. With that steadiness in place, he can keep thrusting with swift, bracing snaps of his hips and a cry of how good it feels to be inside you.

It's completely mesmerizing. There's no end to where he stops and you begin; your bodies move in erratic rhythm like dancers, sweaty and wet with arousal for each other that you can't quite place any one source on. It feels like he loves you with every ounce of his soul, and for him? Well, Harley just can't get enough of every sound and smell and taste of you, his promise to take things slow only broken once you start throwing yourself back on him with pleas for him to take you with everything he's got. You've turned into a needy thing, once innocent and anxious while now you're ready to demand what you want. And Harley can't get enough of that bossy brattiness, cause at his core, he knows it's out of knowing you can rely on him to give you everything you want. Because to you, he's enough.

What isn't enough is a measly few minutes of lovemaking. No, he isn't that type of guy–you can tell once he brings his heel up on the bed, and uses the new leverage to pound you down like dough into the bed you're melting into. Your shrieks of his name have broken past the cutesy barrier you put up; they're guttural and hoarse, your every syllable putting an even more dopey smile on his lips as he listens to you give in to your desires like an animal in heat.

"...Feel like a virgin again," He whispers to himself, breath heavy in his throat as he slides his knee down to dig into the bed next to you. In the next moment he pulls out suddenly, grips your hip in a tight fistful, and throws you over on your back just to climb over you again–this time with those brown eyes hazy and cheeks flushed as he looks down on you, palms pressed to your thighs to keep them open as he sinks back inside slowly. Your calves hang over his massive thighs as he spreads you open, the pillow under your hips helping you to arch off the bed with a squeal as he stretches you back out to let himself in again.

"Needed to see you," He moans, sweat trickling down his collarbone and sticking to your chest as he lowers himself to get closer to you. He just can't get close enough, not for his tastes. "See how fuckin' pretty you are. Gonna get me there with that dumb look on your face."

The slick, loud slaps of his bucking hips thicken the air between you, where it's already hung heavy before. On both elbows by your head he lowers himself down to meet you, and at your arms coming round his middle to scratch your nails down his back he chuckles and groans, lowering himself more until his stomach presses against yours. At your beckoning, his waist barely slides an inch from yours as he slams himself deeper, deeper, deeper still until you can't squirm any further off his shaft. The thick hairs that decorate the base grow slick and matted down as they meet your heady arousal, and the way they scrape against your clit has you spasming with an oncoming orgasm once again. Harley makes a mental note of that, his smirk as hot and seducing as ever as he pins your lips in another kiss.

“H-Harley, I-” You gasp out between his teeth.

“I know.” He grunts. “Feel it. Squeezin’ on me so tight. M'gonna give it to you–fuck–gonna give it to you, peaches.” The growl in his throat resonates through his whole body and straight into yours. The ripple effect has you straining, squirming, your body like heat and ice swirling together to make an absolute storm of ecstasy. It's peaking now, getting closer, hotter, his groans rising and growing more intense as he chokes out that he loves you-

Harley traps you in a tight squeeze as he meets his end along with you, his arms hugged tight around your throat like a chokehold while both your hips grind and fight for one another. He can barely keep his eyes in his head as they roll back ecstatically, but it's not as if you're any better–your wiggling and squirming doesn't cease until the very end, when the heat has finally started edging off into bliss and your orgasm fades into softened spots in your vision. When the two of you finally slump into each other in exhaustion, Harley's weight finally sinks in as lays atop you with heaving breaths.

The quiet that follows, however peppered with the laborious heaving of your chests, beckons you towards sleep. But you can't quite allow yourself to go there yet; there's a nagging sense in the back of your head as you lie still, unsure of where or how to move in the aftermath of such a union. Part of you wants to feign sleep for some reason, as if from some long-instilled instinct to protect your body from the man on top of you. You don't want to think of Harley that way, though. He does end up sliding off you before you can move, however…and when he shuffles towards the bathroom, you feel a whine erupting from your throat that you can't control. He mumbles something from the other room and there's water running for a minute, but you don't hear a word until he meanders back with a softness in his brown eyes.

“Shh, sh..” Harley murmurs to soothe your shaky whimpering as he returns with a towel in hand, his heat bleeding through the damp cloth as he presses it warmly to your skin. “I'm here. I'm right here.”

For the next several minutes, your partner freshens up all the spots that beg the most attention. He wipes your face clean of sweat first, up to your hairline, before moving down along your limbs and your chest to dab at the sore areas and the messes he left behind. He leaves to get a whole new cloth to towel between your legs, the warmth of the damp fabric softening the sting that's settled in after he went on a sensual rampage through your body. Once he's finished with a hail of kisses to soothe those aches he caused, he sits you on the toilet to let you go, your usual embarrassment somehow evaporated as he stands naked at the sink and splashes water on his face while you do so.

The sight of those fresh scratches down his back send a shiver of guilt through you. They're raw, red and puffy, some having left thin trails of blood from where you'd dug in and broken skin. Seeing them littered over the myriad of deep, old scars that riddle a violent past make you feel a sense of shame–but Harley only finds himself content and relaxed as he helps you up, refusing to let your bandaged ankle nor his wounded shoulder prevent him from sweeping you off your feet. He carries you the few feet back to the bed, and once you're laid down atop it, he crawls in beside you and throws the covers over your body with a promise to wash them tomorrow.

“I can wash them…” Your soft murmur is the first you've spoken since you'd finished making love. Harley chuckles lowly, and turns to lay on his back. He ushers you closer with an arm round your shoulders, and eases you in to lay your head on his naked chest and hear his slow-beating heart.

“You're not walkin’ tomorrow. Hate to break it to you.” You huff softly at him, but it comes out more like a soft sigh of air as you settle in tiredly for some rest. Maybe he's right. You certainly know these aches won't be going away by tomorrow, at the least. They might persist for days at that.

“I can try.”

“You can sleep.” He shifts a bit to get comfortable, his hand bracing your head before he starts threading his fingers through your hair. “Plenty else to do when you're better.”

“I don't want to be a burden, Harley.”

“Shut up.” He whispers softly, his words holding no edge as he leans down and kisses the top of your head. “You'll never be a burden.”

Those words, as tough as they come out, lilt you into sleepiness as your final walls break down. With nothing more to say, nothing to speak in a rebuttal to that honest and heartfelt claim, you silently snuggle into Harley's side and let your thoughts drift as he strokes you into slumber. His hand in your hair leaves a warmth down your back as he holds you, quietly urging you to rest as you feel the tension of your day slowly melt into nothingness.

Halfway through the night, you felt a shift of something growing unsettled beneath you. Still half-asleep, you remember only mumbling something incoherent as you felt the warm body slide out from underneath you. Harley had patted your head and whispered for you to go back to sleep, and before you could see where he'd gone you'd fallen right back into slumber, just as he'd asked.

You were awoken for the second time by a clacking thunk. Shooting up in bed, your head swivels from one end of the room to the other to search for what you fear might be an intruder–but as your eyes pass over the window, you soon heave a sigh and rub the bridge of your nose in some relief. The hardwood chills the soles of your feet as they hit the floor softly, and you shuffle over to the sill to grab the edge and pull it down to close with a grinding squeal of old wood. You can imagine that was Harley's doing, likely cracking the window open to let in a cool breeze and air out some of the humidity–though just like the night prior, you scowl at the sight of those same tree branches clacking against the window pane. Far be it from you to ask more of your partner, but maybe it would be in your best interest to take him up on that offer to clip the branches, if only to let you sleep throughout the night.

As you meander back towards the bed, it's then that you realize Harley still hasn't come back. His side is empty and cold, and from your recall it's been quite a while since he'd roused himself, and you by extension. Probably more than an hour, at least. With a curiosity that's likely better off going unsatisfied, you dig in his closet for something to cover with–a loose, holey t-shirt that hangs around your knees is good enough–and quietly pad through the hall and down each step, your ankle proving almost no problem at all by this point. Without any lights on and only the gleam of the moon through the windows, you wander to the first floor until you tune in to the sound of a distant thud. With each one that follows, you head towards the sound and find yourself crossing the grass in the dark, the light of the shed just outside the farmhouse glowing under the closed door. Cool dew wets your toes as you move silently, your curiosity growing at a steady pace as you hear a muffled clang and the sounds of metal hitting wood.

The moment your hand touches the loose door, and you call out Harley’s name as it opens…you know the gravity of that horrible, tremendously unthinkable mistake you made.

Crunch.

A glimpse of Harley turning his head, a step, and he's crushed something beneath his boot. Your gaze falls to the hard-packed dirt floor, and shinking beneath his sole are shards of glass. Amongst them are bent, wiry silver frames; a pair of glasses. Ones you would recognize had he not stepped on them in his instinct to call out to you, to prevent you from seeing what lay within his shed that he's tried to dispose of all day.

As your gaze trails upwards, you have to take in every stomach-churning detail of this awful scene. The first thing that registers in your vision is the blood; it's all over the walls and soaking the wooden table, the sight of it dripping off the edges being what clues you in to realize that the dirt below is swimming in it. Harley’s hair is tied up but he's got blood in it too, he's drenched in blood from the top of his collar all the way down to splatters on his boots. In his hand is a saw, one of those thin ones you've seen in butcher’s shops. On the table, lying out like the bear meat that had been cut there just hours before, is a limb. A leg, it looks like. Missing its shoe, but a leg from the thigh down all the same. There's a deep trough by the end of the table–one you recognize as the trough for feeding the pigs–but by the stench of blood and rot you can't bring yourself to peer into them. You're already feeling woozy from the humid reek of death in the air.

The coat that's lying in a heap under the table is what truly confirms the horror for you. You recognize it, even though it's no longer white–just like Harley's jeans and his bare chest, it's been stained a deep scarlet with blood. There's no doubt whose scattered parts these once belonged to. It all makes sense now why Harley was so patient, yet acted like there was something to hide.

It's when the realization hits that you finally work up the courage to meet his eyes. Harley–the reassuring, handsomely stubborn man that you admitted you love, stands with his brown eyes wide and his expression blank. He looks like a deer caught in headlights; not stoic nor angry, but just simply taken by surprise. His grip hasn't tightened on the saw, but it hasn't loosened, either. You've caught him red-handed. The silence is impenetrable.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Maybe he wants to say something. Blood dripping off the table and splashing into a puddle on the ground is the only sound that hits your ears amongst the silence. Harley stares, and stares hard, his lungs completely devoid of breath as you both hold the moment and wonder what to do. What to say. But what can be said? How can you reason out this shocking, horrific scene from a man you just laid with not hours ago? The man who loves you?

“I'll do whatever I need to do to protect you.”

The promise he made before stews in your mind like you're hearing it again for the first time. The blood, the parts of your former stalker's body strewn about, the look in Harley's eyes as he grips the saw…the breath suddenly sucks itself back into your body like you were seconds away from suffocating. You breathe in the fetid air that, by all rights should make you squeamish, but somehow…it doesn't. Not anymore.

"....Pig feed?" You query, a delicate finger pointed towards the trough piled with unmentionable chunks of flesh. With barely a breath in-between, Harley nods while never breaking his stare from you. Your hand brushes the doorway once again, eyes fixated on the saw with your nails scraping down the wood lightly, until your gaze eventually flickers back to meet Harley's. With your lips pursed tight, you offer him a nod and push off the wall to quit leaning against it.

"Okay…come back to bed, when you're done?"

Each blink from him signals an eternity in each of your minds, his grip so tight on the tool his knuckles are paling beneath the splatters of blood coating them. Harley nods back, his low voice just barely above a whisper.

"Okay." He sounds unsure of himself, but it disappears as he tries again. Much more confident the second time around. "Yeah. I'll be quick."

"Good." A smile slowly crawls across your soft lips, the sight of it sending Harley's stuttered breaths into silence again. The heat in his chest floods straight southward, and with a dry swallow his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip. He can't tear his eyes off of you even when you slip away, your hand lingering on the doorframe as you disappear into the yard with one last, gentle encouragement over your shoulder.

“Don't take long. Bed's too cold without you.”

#harley kunuk #harley x reader #harley kunuk x reader #yandere ocs #yanverse #male yandere #spicy writing #ellie writes #over 10k

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finniestoncrane · 2 months

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Task Force XXX

KTJL!Boomer x Harley x Fem!Reader, word count: 1.1k happy valentine's VILLAIN-TINES day to my beloved @worri-wort this is for the villain-tines exchange, and i am so glad i got terri because it was an easy task since we're both unhinged in a very similar way 🩵🩷 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: oral sex, threesome, reader has breasts and a vagina but no gendered language!

Your back arched away from Digger’s body, chest pushing out as you tensed up against the strokes of pleasure that curved down your spine and spread through your limbs, tingling over you, making it hard for you to keep quiet.

Boomerang’s fingers teased at your nipples as you rested with your back against his chest. You bit your lip, stifling your moans, but it was futile against his efforts at pulling them out of you. Especially when you could hear his breathing, the soft, cruel chuckles he let out against your ear, his lips occasionally sinking to your neck or shoulder to kiss you, gentle and romantic in contradiction to the way he squeezed and pulled at your breasts.

“You seem to really like that, babe. Glutton for punishment, huh?”

He had leaned in to whisper the words to you, his breath warm at your cheek, loose strands of his hair tickling against your skin. You let out a moan, hushed enough, you assumed, but you were quickly chastised.

“Shh! We gotta keep ‘em quiet, Boomer. Otherwise we’ll wake up Sharky… And I dunno if they can take all three of us. Unless you think you can, hun?”

Harley looked up at you from her position on the floor between your legs, her hands on your thighs, keeping them spread apart. One of your hands held onto her space bun, the other clamped over your mouth. You shook your head. This was enough. And if you woke up King Shark, you’d definitely make more noise. And you weren’t sure whether Deadshot would then want in on it or not, which if he did…

“Didn’t think so.”

Harley winked at you, folding her arms, balanced on your thighs, and batting her eyelashes at you.

“Alright, alright. I can behave, Harls. Besides, bad enough I’ve gotta share with you, let alone those two.”

He gestured towards King Shark and Deadshot, who slept as peacefully as they could knowing they were being watched over by you, Harley and Boomer. Technically, you were awake, and all three of you were listening carefully, senses heightened. But you seemed to be serving as a significant distraction from their duties.

Your lips parted, a long sound of joy almost wailing out before Digger clamped his hand down over you.

“Oh, so you can make ‘em scream, but I can’t?”

Looking up once more, Harley winked.

“I’m just better than you, so it’s harder for me to tone it down.”

Going back to the task at hand, she buried her face between your thighs, her tongue protruding as she lapped up and down your lips, parting them with the strong muscle, expertise not going unnoticed. The bridge of her nose settled against your clit, pressing down on it, stroking it as she moved from side to side. Every so often, Digger’s attention seemed to wane, loosening the grip on your tender, reddening nipples, as he got distracted by the show you and Harley were putting on for him. Her saliva, coating you, strands of it trailing from your body to her tongue as she pulled back to take a look at you writhing and twitching in ecstasy. George’s own drool collected in his mouth, spilling over his bottom lip as he imagined how you would taste, how good Harley felt with her face buried between your legs, and how much better it might be if there were two of them working hard to give you what you deserved.

With one more cruel twist of your aching nipples, he let go of you. Easing you up and gently resting you back down, he stepped around beside Harley, falling to his knees and flashing you both a grin before he pushed his way in beside her, lifting your leg and placing it over his shoulder to keep you spread apart as far as possible. His tongue flitted out and over your clit, and Harley rejoined him with a giggle, both of the wet, stiff muscles flicking up and down over your lips, intertwining occasionally in playful kisses where their lips met together and grazed over your sensitive, trembling skin.

Taking a brief second to speak, Boomer removed himself from the lure of your sweet, slick cunt and met your eyes.

“You might as well take up where I left off, keep your hands busy, babe.”

The mere suggestion of instructions, of being told what to do, made your breath hitch in your chest. One hand rose to your chest, clamping your nipple between your thumb and finger, making you whine in satisfaction as the sharp sting made your skin tingle. The other fell to the back of George’s head, fingers pushing under his beanie and knocking it off, grabbing his hair at the root as you forced him back to work, his nose against your clit as his tongue paired up with Harley’s.

“Your fingers are bigger, Boomer, you can do the honours.”

“Right-o, Harls!”

Jumping immediately at the opportunity, Digger dove two fingers within your walls, curving them up, hooked to hit the spot just right. Tapping at it, making your body convulse, your clit pulsing as Harley wrapped her lips around it in a soft kiss. She pulled away, and you could feel your chest sinking, aching for her to return to her delicious ministrations. Sensing your disappointment, she rushed to reassure you.

“Gymnastics, sweetie. Just getting into a more beneficial position for us both.”

She winked as she straddled your waist, facing away from you.

“Grab my legs, hun.”

Shifting her legs back, she rested them against your shoulders, sliding up until you were buried between them, the scent of her wet cunt in your face, just within reach of your tongue as you pressed it out to taste her. And she returned her attentions to you, lowering her head, her body resting against you, perfectly positioned so she wasn’t in the way of Boomer as he fucked you with his fingers, his other hand holding Harley’s chin as he whined at the view in front of him.

You were so focused on pleasing Harley, making her body shiver on top of you, that it took you a moment to realise that Boomerang was no longer anywhere near you. Peering out past Harley’s soft, distracting body, you found him leaning back against the wall, cock in hand as he stroked furiously, his eyes focused on you both. With a mischievous smile he spoke.

“Didn’t seem like you ladies needed me. ‘Sides, I’m quite enjoying the show.”

It was hard to argue with him, especially now that you had something to focus your eyes on, his open mouth and panting tongue, his thick cock in his strong hand, as you worked on your orgasm in tandem with Harley.

#finnie writes #harley quinn #harleen quinzel #harley x reader #harley quinn x reader #captain boomerang #digger harkness #george harkness #captain boomerang x reader #captain boomer x you #captain boomerang fanfic #suicide squad #suicide squad kill the justice league

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fandomnerd9602 · 11 months

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Harley cries tears of joy as Y/N and little Gilda run to her…

Gilda: momma!

Harley: my little cupcake! Hey baby.

Y/N: hey yourself.

Harley hugs her daughter tightly…

Harley: mommy found a way to go home

Y/N: really?

Harley: let’s just say I owe it to a little birdie.

Robin, watching from a distance, smiles…

For @joeyr601

#gotham knights #Gotham #harley queen #dc harley quinn #harley quinn x reader #harley quinn #harley quinn imagine #dc comics incorrect quotes #dc comics #dc comics fluff #dc comics imagine #harley x reader

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lonleydweller · 8 months

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May I request an Arkham!Harley who's somehow friends with someone who is the complete opposite of herself? Calm, collected, and stoic, but still a very strong fighter. Not to mention, very tall, too. Like, an opposites attract kind of dynamic!

🌹Arkhamverse Harley with complete opposite friend🌹

!Warnings!: none

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●She always makes to comment of opposite attracts. Even with friends! She wouldn't want it any other way! It's a nice break and contrast from Mr.J!

●She'll be trying to get you to laugh and lighten up a bit from time to time. She sees it as a fun challenge to try and break that stoic interior! When she does she's all happy and boasting.

●If you're tall enough, or strong enough, she'll joke about you being her taxi and piggy back rides. Will constantly ask you to grab things for her, even when she can grab a chair or use her hammer. She just finds it fun to bug you.

●You also help regulate her in a way and keep her from doing something too impulsive based on her emotions. You have saved plans more than one time thanks to the dynamic yall got going.

●However other times yall are running around wreaking havoc, beating the shit out of people. Tag teaming, tossing people around like baseballs, no one can touch either of you. A frightening dou.

●She'll definitely show you off to the thugs, goons, and other rouges. Look at her badass quiet friend! They can snap any of them like a twig!

●You two are two very dangerous peas in a pod!

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#writers on tumblr #dc #dweller's writing #arkhamverse #arkhamverse harley quinn #arkham asylum #Arkham city #arkham knight #gotham rogues #Arkhamverse Harley x reader #harley quinn #harley quinn x reader #harley x reader #arkham harley

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jomsimagination · 24 days

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always you || harley quinn x fem! reader

in which, harley always ends up with you.

it all started as an innocent thing. it was you being friendly, but even before harley knew your name she fell in love with you.

you would just usually give her a dollar to buy her favorite sandwich and she would go away. but after a few months, she stuck around, waking up with her burning down you’re kitchen, or on somedays you’d wake up with her just staring at you with pure admiration.

of course it was creepy, but then you got used to it. you don’t know how she would get in your apartment in the first place, but it was harley, so you really shouldn’t question.

on some days, when you got off of work you would see her in your couch eating food from your fridge, you’d kick her out of your apartment, since you can’t afford two people, plus she was a criminal, you couldn’t afford to go to jail.

but then, it was harley, she’d promise you no harm will ever go your way. but still you kicked her out. then you’d nail your windows shut. to stop her from entering your apartment. it did work for a year, and you were scared to admit it bu last year was gray. and as much you hate it, she brought out the best in you, and that she was the color of your life.

but then this specific night, a knock woke you up, you worked a nine to five, so of course you were angry. “what do you want.” you grumbled, as you rubbed your eyes, opening your door. “oh i’ve missed you!” harley exclaimed, hugging you tightly.

“h-harley.” you mumble, super tiredly. “i missed you so much, y/n.” she said again, pulling away with a big smile. “it’s 3 am, what are you doing?” you ask her. “well i missed you, and i just got out of prison!” she exclaimed, as your eyes grew wide in shock.

“what? so you go to me?” you pull her inside your apartment, checking if anyone saw. “oh c’mon, you missed me too.” she smiled, that stupid and wicked smile. “no. look you’re gonna get me in trouble. okay, so leave now.” you say with a stern look, as you open the window for her.

“what. makin’ me leave already?” she says, with a sadistic smile. “yes. now go.” you weren’t backing down, you wanted her out. the only things she brought you is trouble, and a couple furniture, and some jewelry she stole, but still, trouble.

“oh c’mon, hon. don’t be like that. i missed you, and you probably missed me too.” she steps closer to you, a soft smile on her lips, the moonlight shining upon her face. “c’mon, just a few more minutes?” she asks, her hands wandering to your waist, as her lips slowly went to yours.

you could’ve pulled away, but instead, you deepen the kiss by wrapping your arms around her neck, holding her closely. you guys kissed for a few more seconds, until her tongue poked your bottom lip, and you let her enter.

her tongue exploring every part of your mouth, you only pulled away so you could get some air. she looked you in the eyes, watching your every move, when you regain your breathing, she tugged on the hem of your shirt, then pulling it off.

she was like an animal, as soon as your shirt was off, she grabbed your hips, throwing your shirt off somewhere. she lifted you up, easily like you were paper, allowing for your legs to be wrapped around her. then kissing you once again.

she entered your room, and once you were laid down on the bed, she took off her shirt and your pants. after that she slowly but surely kissed down your body, removing your undergarments in the process.

she kissed down your body until she reached your core, lifting your legs on her shoulders, she kissed and made hickeys on your inner thighs before—you know what’s next.

let’s just say you—well she went all night long, until you even couldn’t move anymore in tiredness. the next morning. was interesting, you woke up with the smell of coffee on your night stand, and a note saying;

Dear, y/n, my sugarplum

sorry i cant be with you as you wake up, i had to go early, but i made coffee for you :) its not as good as your coffee, but i had to make up for all the soreness youre probably having right now :) i hope you enjoyed last night i surely did ;) i miss you.

it was sweet, she was sweet, she also kind of gave you the best after care, she was absolutely precious, despite what she looked like, but still, she was the best. and she looked absolutely gorgeous under the moonlight.

you left your apartment with a smile on your face, you were glowing to say so, maybe you really did have something to live for. maybe just maybe.

and there you are, weeks after your encounter with harley, taking off the nails on your window, leaving your windows unlocked, looking at the moon before you sleep, cause it still reminded you of her. maybe you’re down bad for her.

you waited for weeks, which turned into eight months, and that was when you lost hope, maybe she wasn’t gonna ever come back. so now you’re back in your gray life, your gray life without your color—without harley.

and here you are, walking to your apartment, seeing it was unlocked and slightly open, you didn’t leave it unlocked or open. so you’re clutching your bag ready to pounce on who ever is inside.

and once again you acted before you thought, and now you’re hitting on whoever is in your apartment. “ow! ow! honey, stop! look i know i didn’t show up for a few months but stop!”

and when you heard that voice it brought you to hit her more, “hey! stop.” she used her stern voice on you, and that’s when you stopped. “honey, i’m—hit me with that bag again and—“ she stopped herself, because you were someone special to her.

“and what? you’re gonna kill me?” you say, not backing down. “bub, cut it out.”

“you know what? kill me! i don’t care! in fact i’m glad it’s you! so you’ll go through pain for once!”

“you thought i never went through pain before!? my life before becoming who i am now was all about pain! pain and pain! and when i met you…”

“oh i don’t care! go to the person who made you that way!”

“are you jealous?” she asks her voice soft. “no! i’m tired of being the second option! tell me who do you stay with when you aren’t with me?”

“j…” you knew who, she knew you knew exactly who it was. she knew you were hurting already and she made it worst, she knew all of that. but she always came running back to you, well only if joker betrayed her or broke up with her.

“exactly. now please let yourself out.” you say, feeling tired as you walk to your room, and just lay down on your bed, staring at the celling.

and she did, you could hear the door close. so officially your unofficial relationship with harley was over. and for the next two years, she’s never showed up, not on purpose of course, you sometimes see her on the street getting chased by the police, or leaving her favorite sandwich place.

your life was gray, but still at least it wasn’t colorful anymore, who said you need color in your life to be happy. you weren’t the happiest, only a little, but it’s a start. right?

you admit it, you missed her, she missed you too, resolving into watching you from afar instead, watching as you laugh with your office friends, eating at your favorite restaurant, the only times she felt sad was when you celebrated your birthday alone. she couldn’t go to your apartment anymore, since you started to lock your windows and doors close, and that your door said ‘no harley quinn!’ but watching you from afar would suffice.

she truly missed you, even more than the joker—wrong she only missed you. she only wanted you. she wanted the one thing she can’t have. it’s always been you—always you.

A/n another another shitty post! but at least.

#harley quinn #harley quinn x reader #harley x reader #angst?

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angstyandromanticwriting · 5 months

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Harley Quinn X FemWerewolf!Reader Angsty, Cute and Fluffy Prompt with a somewhat cliffhanger ending

• Occurs after the events of the third film (The Suicide Squad - 2021) + there’ll be a part two at some point

!TW: Violence, jealousy, self-doubt, anxiety, separation anxiety, blood/presence of blood, weapon(s), swearing, threat(s), violent intentions, mention of nightmares/nightmares in general, murder/mention of murder, mention of a previous near death experience, self put-down(s), mention of being bullied, bullying, implied suffering from depression, implied swearing (‘curse’), insult(s), implied poor treatment by family, implied being close to death/wounded, mention of previously being abused by an ex, injury detail, implied nudity, mild blackmail, mention of an ambush, being assaulted, mention of hickeys, unconsciousness!

After a little while of having to stay in that overcrowded base for the whole day, Bloodsport had reluctantly managed to get Waller to consider allowing you and Harley more time with Cane and Bruce back at the new Birds of Prey base, and somehow she had found herself in good spirits enough to accept his suggestion, so you both found yourselves - the next day - waking up in the spare room that Renee and Canary had organised for you both. You’d woken up before her, or just managed to, and would frown when you found you could still pick up the man who she’d previously been with’s scent, tainting her sweet one, so you would try and quietly inch even closer to her without waking her up, wincing when she’d moved a little, but you would express relief upon noticing that she’d not fully woken up, despite her previous movement. You would then bury your face into her shoulder, your fangs unfolding whilst you did subconsciously; the wolf within you was dying to come out again, and change her, but you tried to fight it back to the best of your ability, whimpering quietly whilst you did, and were instead leaving little nibble marks on her neck, and shoulder, rather than digging your fangs into her; a temporary marking, because that’s all you believed you could do. Despite the fact that she’d told you before that she wanted you to change her, eventually, you found you couldn’t, not wanting her to have to live like you’d had to live; in fear of constantly being hunted, having to experience forceful and painful transformations on full moon nights, having to struggle to control yourself whenever in moments of overwhelming outbursts of emotion, and having to constantly have been on the run a few times. Also, it meant that she’d have to spend more time stuck on earth with you, and you believed she’d be better off remaining human for that reason, alongside the others ones. Once you’d finished, and had left several little marks along her neck and left shoulder, you forced yourself out of bed to make breakfast and coffee for her, Cane, and yourself, whilst they both began to stir awake.

🜚

Harley had managed to get herself awake before Cane, but wouldn’t get out of bed until she had, upon finding the little marks you’d left on her; they’d been paining her a little, ever since she’d woken up, and she soon found that a couple of them were bleeding a little bit, prompting her to wonder why you’d left them, and had evidently done so hurriedly. As soon as she entered the room, you faltered; you could still pick up the man’s scent tainting her’s, though you’d left the marks on her neck and shoulder, and it was painful for you to have to remember the night you thought you’d lost her; that she’d forgotten about you, and stopped howling because she hadn’t responded. However, once she’d gotten closer to you, and had her arms wrapped around your waist, you could finally pick up that your scent was mixing with her’s again, and it made you feel a little better. “Good morning, Alpha,” she cooed, and you would smile lovingly over at her, before noticing that she was wearing your shirt, and you would smirk, whilst your eyes locked with her stunning icy blue ones in the best way possible.

“Good morning, beautiful,” you returned, “is that my shirt?”

She winced, acting as if she hadn’t realised that she’d accidentally put your’s on, instead of one of her own shirts or t-shirts. “Shit, sorry - I didn’t realise,” she answered, and you would giggle, before shaking your head.

“Don’t apologise,” you replied gently, before turning around to face her, and lifting your right hand up to her left cheek, prompting her to melt into your touch subconsciously, “it looks good on you; a lot better than it looks on me.”

“I doubt that,” she remarked, and you then found yourself subconsciously glancing down at the marks on her neck which had evidently been bleeding, and you would falter, a pained expression on your face; you didn’t realise you’d been so reckless, whilst you had been creating the marks, “hey - what’s wrong, Alpha?”

“I hurt you,” you whispered shakily, your voice barely audible whilst you did, but she still hadn’t heard what you’d mustered, regardless, as Cane had now re-entered the room after briefly visiting the toilet to brush her teeth, “I’m so sorry, Quinzels, I - I didn’t realise-..”

She would then guess that you were talking about the marks, and would quickly shake her head, but you would move away before she could ease you into a hug, wanting to try and provide comfort to you, and reassure you that the marks weren’t bothering her, and hadn’t been paining her. “What’s going on-?” Cane questioned, suspicious, and Harley would wince, before looking over at her, after she’d been trying to look at the marks again, herself, whilst you were stood unnaturally still in the corner of the room, a pained expression on your face; you couldn’t believe you’d hurt her like you evidently had, and hated yourself for it.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” she answered, as if everything were okay, before she walked up to the nearest mirror to check the marks again, wondering if they’d gotten worse, as you’d reacted as if they had, but they looked almost the same as they did, before, when she’d first noticed them, except the blood which had been previously escaping a couple of them was now dried up.

You couldn’t help, but watch whilst she did, your eyes dimmer than they usually were; the tears within them weren’t even making them glisten like they sometimes did, whenever you found yourself crying for whatever reason. “What are you looking at-?” Cane inquired, and you would briefly look between both her, and Harley, before you stared down at your feet, allowing the smallest of the currently invading tears to escape, and slide slowly down your cheeks.

“Just a spider bite I got a little while ago,” Harley answered, before smiling back over at Cane, and you. “Don’t worry about it - Y/n’s just upset because she feels bad for not stopping it from happening-”

“Harley,” Cane interrupted, “I know when you’re lying to me - what happened?” She would then appear shocked, and disheartened, whilst she looked over at you, before looking back at Harley again. “Did - Did Y/n hurt you?” She questioned, and you would falter again, whilst your heart began to ache even more excruciatingly than it had been, before.

“Of course not,” she replied, “she’d never hurt me-”

“Harley,” you mustered, your voice close to a whisper again, and she would fall quiet, before glancing over at you, a pained expression on her face whilst she did; she hated seeing you upset like you evidently were, now, “there’s.. there’s no point lying; I’m so sorry, I’m a monster, I just-.. I couldn’t stand smelling - him - on you, a-and I hate myself for it.. If - If you could, m-maybe - find it within you to forgive me-”

“Don’t,” Cane hissed, before she reached for the baseball bat Harley had given her a little while ago, and snatched it up off of the table so she could throw it in your direction, but you would manage to quickly dive out of the way before it could hit you, and it - instead - smashed into one of the windows behind you.

“Cassie!” Harley shouted, before grabbing her and gingerly shoving her away from you; she was worried, and didn’t want either one of you to get hurt. “What the hell is wrong with you?” She demanded, before looking over her shoulder at you to make sure that you were okay; you appeared to be unharmed, now sitting up with a guilty, as well as hurt look on your face, though you found you couldn’t blame Cane for her previous action, believing yourself to be a monster. “Go to your room!” She instructed, and Cane would roll her eyes, before dragging herself out of the room, and Harley would then rush over to you, but before she could crouch down beside you, and hold you close to her, you would move away, a pained expression on your face whilst you did; you were terrified that you might end up hurting her again, and couldn’t let that happen; she meant more to you than life itself, and you would never be able to forgive yourself if you hurt her even more than you previously had. She would appear disheartened by your moving away from her, but understood why you possibly might have; she knew you too well, now, and wished you’d stop viewing yourself as the monster you believed yourself to be, and always had, ever since you’d found out about your true nature, a few years ago now. “Y/n-”

“What the hell happened in here?” Renee questioned, upon rushing into the room; she’d heard the commotion. “Seriously? I thought you had the dog under control, Harley-”

“I’m not a dog,” you uttered, “and it was just an accident.”

“A - A minor misunderstanding,” Harley added for you, “Cassie thought that Y/n had hurt me, but - she didn’t, and she then threw her baseball bat at her, but Y/n managed to dodge it, and it went through the window, instead.”

“Jesus Christ,” Renee remarked under her breath, “well - I don’t care how, but we need to get this mess cleared before Waller and Bloodsport drag you both back home, otherwise you might not be allowed back, if they see the place like this after you’ve both been here; you’d be in deep shit, I imagine, if they found out.”

“Well they won’t find out,” Harley chimed, as if nothing had happened, “this place’ll be as clean as a whistle by the time they get here, won’t it, Alpha?”

You nodded, forcing a smile up at both her and Renee, before you looked away again, worried that you might break down in front of them both any second now. “Something did happen between you both, didn’t it?” Renee guessed, and both you and Harley would falter, before glancing over at her again. “Y’know what - I’m not even gonna bite,” she decided, “it’s your business.” You all would then force yourselves to clean up the room to the best of your ability, just in time for Waller and Bloodsport’s arrival to take you back to the main camp the others were currently residing within.

🜚

Whilst you and Harley were both walking back toward her and your makeshift room, upon your arrival back into the main camp, you would unfortunately come across Falcon, who would smirk when he noticed you both approaching, before he got up, and slowly walked toward you. “I swear to god - one annoying word out of you, and I’m knocking you on your ass,” Harley warned, whilst subconsciously intertwining the fingers of her right hand with the now trembling fingers of your left, “so you better take some time to think about what you’re gonna do next, wise guy.”

“You think I’m wise? Thank you-”

You would find yourself growling quietly over at him, but before you could do anything, Harley would hold you back, her arms around your waist whilst she did, and you would try not to struggle, afraid of hurting her again, and losing control of yourself whilst you were within her hold; the wolf within you was scratching at the surface, evidently desperate to escape and tear Falcon to shreds. “Did I, or did I not just say that I’d knock you out if you didn’t leave us alone?” She hissed, before encouraging you to continue walking alongside her, which you did, when you felt able, subconsciously sticking to her side; you liked to always be in physical contact with her whenever you could be, as you hated being away from her, and wanted to be close to her at all times so you could protect her, and revel in her presence; you felt safe, and whole whenever you were with her, as if all the bad things that had happened to you in the past hadn’t actually happened, or weren’t bothering you anymore than they had been, before you’d both first met, and you imprinted on her, resulting in your past becoming less painful for you as you had been only focussed on making her happy and devoting your life to her ever since that day.

Harley then, once you’d both gotten into your and her bedroom, eased you closer to her, so she could carefully turn you around, and connect her lips to your’s delicately, prompting you to instantly melt into the kiss subconsciously. The kiss soon began to deepen, but you would falter as soon as you were reminded of what had happened earlier, and of how you’d evidently hurt her, seeing as the marks you’d left had evidently begun to bleed, after you’d administered them to her whilst she had been sleeping peacefully beside you. “Quinzels,” you murmured, your voice close to a shaky whisper, whilst you connected your forehead to her’s affectionately, “we can’t; I hurt you-”

“You didn’t hurt me,” she contradicted gently, before lifting her right hand up to your cheek, and you would melt into her touch whilst she did, “a-and - and I know why you gave me the marks, Y/n; I get it, a-and I’m so sorry; I’ve been trying to be rid of his scent for a while now, a-and I didn’t realise it was still on me, but it’ll be gone soon, I promise; I love you, Alpha, only you, a-and that will never change; he meant nothing to me - nobody could ever mean as much to me as you do.”

“I love you, too,” you returned, before allowing yourself to brush your lips against her’s again lovingly, “just - p-promise me-.. promise me that we’ll never have to be apart again - it was painful, b-being away from you; it always is.. even if.. even if we’re simply just not in the same room together; I can’t live without you.”

“We’ll never have to be apart again, I promise,” she cooed, “I can’t live without you, either - every night, ever since I lost you again, I couldn’t go to sleep without having at least one nightmare or two about that day you’d gone over the cliff, a-and-.. I spent - even more of those nights crying, rather than sleeping, especially after-.. after I couldn’t hear you howling anymore, b-but.. that was my fault, if I’d just responded the day before, after I’d killed him, I would have known that you were alive, and hadn’t forgotten about me-”

“No, Harley,” you whined, between the small kisses you both were exchanging, “it wasn’t your fault; I was just-.. being stupid, like I always am - I should have known t-that - that you were distracted, after you killed him; I shouldn’t have just given up and walked away like I did.. o-or - I could have at least just - continued howling for you; I shouldn’t have made you feel like I’d forgotten about you, because I never could; I love you too much, a-and I always will, no matter what.”

“It wasn’t either of our faults,” she claimed, “all that matters is that you’re here now, and always will be, right?”

You would smirk, before nodding, and picking her up off of the ground, prompting her to giggle whilst she clung to your shoulders. “Always,” you reasserted, before kissing her passionately, and delicately, whilst you carried her over to your and her bed.

🜸🜚🜸

Whenever Waller was in good spirits - a very rare occasion - she allowed you and Harley to sometimes take Cane to the school she was attending, alongside a couple members of the Birds of Prey, of course; she’d never let you both go alone, for fear that you’d try and run away, or go on a trouble spree - a double trouble spree, you liked to call it, whenever you and Harley set about messing around and creating havoc in your college lessons together. “Remember - if anyone gets on your nerves, pick up the closest chair, and hit them over the head with it,” Harley reminded her, and Renee would add quietly for Cane to not do what Harley had just advised her to do, “have a good day!”

Cane would then throw her arms around Harley, before awkwardly looking over at you; she still wasn’t sure if she should trust you, or not, after what had happened a short while ago with the marks you’d given Harley. “Thanks,” Cane replied, before dragging herself away, though she didn’t really want to, as she’d been finding herself getting bullied often recently.

“She hates me,” you murmured, and Harley would glance over at you, a pained expression on her face, before she lovingly intertwined the fingers of her right hand with the fingers of your left to try and provide comfort to you.

“She doesn’t hate you,” she contradicted, “she just needs - time, I guess, after-..”

“After I hurt you,” you uttered through gritted teeth; you still hated yourself for what had previously happened, and Harley would quickly shake her head, before turning to face you, a hurt look on her face; she hated seeing you like this; like you could break down with any passing second; tears had begun to invade your vision, blurring it, but you were trying, and failing, to fight them back.

“You didn’t hurt me,” she claimed, “I couldn’t even feel them, not enough for me to deem them as being painful. Besides..” She then grinned over at you, before wrapping her arms around your waist, so she could ease you closer to her. “I like it when you mark me, Alpha,” she remarked, and you would be surprised, evidently not expecting her to have liked what you had done, “I want people to know that I’m your’s - but - I also want people to know that you are mine, so-.. I was wondering if - maybe - you’d let me mark you, too.”

You would smirk back at her subconsciously, whilst your eyes began to glint. “Of course I will,” you replied, “I’d love for you to mark me; you know I would.”

“Good,” she chimed, “then I will.” She then glanced back judgementally at Renee and Canary, who were currently watching you both, until she looked back at them, and they quickly looked away, prompting her to return her attention to you, before she leaned forward so she could add - in your left ear - a whisper. “Later,” she promised, before surprising you by gently nibbling at the shell of your ear, prompting you to giggle, as well as seem to purr a little, though you weren’t anything like a cat. She then found herself giggling alongside you; she clearly had found your reaction adorable.

“Leave me alone!” You heard a familiar voice cry, and would immediately turn your head in the direction of it to find that someone had shoved Cane down to the ground, angering you instantly as you began to growl quietly, your irises flickering dangerously between a bold orange and their normal colour, whilst your fangs subconsciously unfolded, and your body began to heat up like a furnace; the wolf within you was scratching at the surface to escape, and maul the children who were bullying her.

“Y/n, no!” Canary whisper-shouted, before throwing her arms around you to try and hold you back, whilst Harley looked on at the group in shock; she couldn’t believe they were daring to bully her like they were, with the probably now confirmed rumours going around that you and Harley had adopted her.

You would strain your ears to try and hear more of their very much one-sided confirmation, whilst struggling a little in Canary’s hold; you were desperate to help Cane, as you were sure that you’d never forgive yourself if you let her get hurt, too, and wanted to prove to her that she could trust you, always, like Harley could always trust you, too. “Why were we even asking her to do our homework for us, anyway?” The second girl inquired, whilst sneering down at Cane. “She knows nothing,” she continued, before lowering herself down a little, whilst her hands were resting upon her knees, “isn’t that right? You’re adopted, so you probably aren’t even being helped with your own homework, anyway - not that two freaky convicts could teach anyone anything-”

You couldn’t take it anymore as you broke free of Canary’s hold, gingerly shoving her away, before you rushed over to the group, Harley and the others hot on your heels; they were afraid of what you might do; what might happen to you if you did hurt anyone, specifically, in terms of Harley; she was terrified of losing you again, and knew that Waller wouldn’t even hesitate to put a bullet in your skull if you ever did decide to hurt anyone again, or to go against her very specific instructions to not cause a scene, or draw too much attention to yourselves whilst you were over at the Birds of Prey base, or escorting Cane to school like you had previously been doing, until this moment. “Hey-!” You hissed over at them, and they would each be startled by your sudden interruption. “Leave her alone!” You demanded, but Harley would manage to hold you back, before you could get any closer to the bullies, no matter how much she wanted you to teach them a lesson for messing with Cane; she couldn’t let you get taken away from her again. “Go inside, Cassie,” you commanded gently, and Cane would reluctantly rush off, though she wanted to stay with the group, feeling safer with them, and a little safer with you now, too, “I swear if I ever see you lay a finger on her again-”

“Y/n,” Harley cooed, and you would relax instantly, upon hearing her voice again, a warm shiver running down your spine whilst you did, and everything that had changed returned to the way it had been, before, “it’s okay, now - Cassie’s fine, and these little brats will never hurt her again, I’m sure they won’t - look at me.” You would glance over at her, and couldn’t help, but smile whilst you did; her presence always made you feel warm, fuzzy, and light, somehow, and you found yourself wondering how you’d survived the years you’d spent in a dark place away from her.

Harley then smiled lovingly back at you, until you were both distracted by Renee speaking up after the bell had rung out from within the building Cane had run into a brief moment ago. “Haven’t you both got somewhere to be, now?” She questioned the two girls, who would hesitantly rush off to their classes, and once they were out of sight, Renee turned to face you both. “We gotta get back, before Waller and Bloodsport get there, and wonder why we’re taking so long,” she stated, and you both would begrudgingly agree, before following Renee and Canary back to the base, just in time; the cars to escort you both back were arriving, just as you were all walking up the drive alongside them.

Before you could get into the black car in the middle, Canary caught your left arm, prompting you to look over your left shoulder at her. “I expect, when you come back tomorrow with Harley, that things will be better between you and Cassie,” she expressed, “or, at least, I’m hoping they will; it was nice of you, to stand up for her like you did, and I’m sure she appreciates the gesture.”

“I hope so,” you replied, “but - I wouldn’t be surprised, all the same, if she still hates me; I should never have left those marks-”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Canary interjected, “she just - needs more time to get to know you, like she has with Harley. Trust me, tomorrow is gonna be the start of something new; I can feel it.”

You would scoff, before looking away from her. “Thanks,” you uttered, “but I only ever trust my instincts when they’re linked to Harley; I can’t - feel any of you, yet, n-not even Cassie, but-.. I guess - I’ll just have to wait and see. See you tomorrow.” You then got into the car beside Harley, before closing the door, and smiling lovingly over at her; she appeared to be hopeful, too, that you and Cane would get along more, but would simply smile warmly back at you, before she shuffled closer to you and rested her head on your right shoulder; she didn’t want to upset you by pressuring you about the situation even further. “Get some sleep,” you cooed, and Harley would nod, whilst her eyes locked with your’s in the best way possible, prompting her’s to glint, and your heart to skip a beat, overwhelming you like it usually did, but you would try and hide it from her, embarrassed, “we’ve still got a long day ahead of us.” She would then groan, and nod gravely, upon remembering that you both, and the others would probably have another training session to return to. “It’ll be over soon, don’t worry,” you continued gently, “as soon as we deal with that asshole politician, and it’s army, and then we’ll be able to find someplace to stay with Cassie, and Bruce; somewhere we won’t have to worry about anyone separating us again, and guess what we’ll do after that-?”

She would appear intrigued, before lifting an eyebrow up at you, whilst she tried to think. “W-What will we do?” She inquired, and you would falter; you thought she’d answer immediately, and wondered if she’d forgotten about what you’d promised her a few times now, already. You then found yourself thinking about how you’d overheard her and the man talking, before you’d run away, and about how she’d been considering the fact that she liked how Harley Luna sounded, prompting you to falter, a pained expression on your face whilst you did. She would then appear worried about you, upon noticing that you seemed upset about something. “Y/n?” She cooed, and you would wince, before managing a soft smile down at her, whilst you tried to think of something else to say; you were doubting that she’d want to marry you, now, after everything, and so were worried about how she would react if you brought it up to her. “Are you okay, Alpha? You went all sad on me all of a sudden,” she mused, and you would nod quickly, before affectionately connecting your forehead to her’s, and she would smile back at you, prompting your heart to begin to race alongside her’s, “what are we gonna do, after we find a good place to stay?”

“We’ll-..” You murmured, before wincing again, but this time you managed to hide it from her; you didn’t want to upset her. “I’ll change you,” you stated, and she would be surprised; she didn’t think you’d ever change your mind, or appear so eager to, after you’d been so against the idea, before, “I’ve been - putting it off for too long, now, I know, and I’m sorry-”

Harley then silenced you by delicately connecting her lips to your’s, and you would subconsciously melt into the kiss, your eyelids fluttering shut whilst you did. Once it was over, you found yourself wearing a dazed expression on your face, prompting her to smirk up at you, amused by your reaction, as well as revelling in how it was only her who could make you feel this way. “I love you so much,” she expressed, and would then lift her right up to your left cheek, prompting you to lean into her touch, whilst you found yourself getting lost in her stunning icy blue eyes again, “w-what - what will we do, after that? After you change me?” She was evidently angling for you to bring up a specific part of your and her plan, but you would doubt - again - that there was any possibility of her wanting to marry you, so you thought maybe she was just curious about what else you’d all do together.

“I’m not sure yet,” you answered, whilst staring down at your hands, and she would appear disappointed by your answer, wondering if it meant you didn’t want to get married to her anymore, “I guess we’ll just - h-have to wait and see.” She would then nod gravely, before resting her head on your right shoulder again, and letting her eyes close, whilst you found yourself fighting back tears beside her silently for the remainder of the journey.

🜸🜚🜸

Like you’d been thinking that they would, things did seem to improve between you and Cane, the next day, just not as much as you’d been hoping they would. Whilst you and Harley were cuddled up together in bed, you would be startled to wake up to something quite soft bumping you on the left side of your head. You would protectively hold Harley close to you, whilst you looked in the direction that it had come from, only to find that Cane was stood by the door, and that she was holding what looked like a nerf gun in her hands, prompting you to ease up, and grin over at her, whilst your eyes began to glint. “Did you seriously just shoot me in the head with a nerf bullet?” You questioned, and Cane would shrug, before tilting her head partially.

“I might have,” she answered timidly, before lowering the makeshift gun a little, “I just wanted to wake you up to say thank you, I guess, for standing up for me yesterday.” Harley then found herself beginning to stir beside you, but once she could hear that you both were talking, she would try and act as if she were still asleep in your arms, whilst listening and smiling softly. “A-Anyway, I gotta go to school, so-”

“School-?” Harley spoke up, surprising you both; you’d thought that she had gone back to sleep, but evidently hadn’t as she was suddenly so awake, and energetic, sitting up beside you, whilst appearing startled, as if she’d forgotten something.

“It’s Monday,” Cane reminded you both, and you would wince, whilst Harley couldn’t help, but curse beside you quietly, and you both would instantly get out of bed, “did you guys seriously forget, already? Jeez, that’s what my ex-family used to do, too-”

“Hey,” Harley whined, “we’re nothing like them, we were just - well.. we didn’t get much sleep last night-”

“Gross,” Cane remarked, and you would wince, before looking away; you’d both not done what she had been assuming you had; you had just been struggling because you’d had a nightmare, and found you couldn’t stop thinking about how she had been with that man, after you’d both been separated again. “Anyway, I’ll meet you both down there, whenever you decide to get ready,” she added, before rushing out of the room, and you would glance over at Harley, a pained expression on your face, before dragging yourself into the bathroom to get ready, whilst she wondered what your look had meant; she hated seeing you upset, and wanted to do all she could to try and make you happy again, so she vowed that she would, starting from the moment you had left the bathroom after you’d finished getting ready alongside her.

🜚

Harley would be surprised to find, that night, you crying quietly outside, whilst the others were sleeping; you’d snuck away after you’d heard her snoring quietly beside you, as you didn’t want to disturb her, and knew that she’d not be woken up if you did, like she had been the previous night. “Y/n,” she cooed, and you would falter upon hearing her voice, “what’s wrong? W-Why are you crying?”

“I’m not crying,” you claimed, and she would scoff, before sitting on the step beside you, whilst you tried to wipe all of your tears away, embarrassed; you hated being caught crying, especially by Harley, as you were worried about her perceiving you to be weak, when you were meant to be strong for her; you didn’t want her to think that you couldn’t protect her, being her mate, and were terrified that you might end up losing her, “Alphas don’t cry, e-especially not in front of their mates..”

She would realise, and shake her head in reply; she didn’t want you to think that you couldn’t cry in front of her, like you were evidently trying not to, right now. “Look,” she began gently, before intertwining the fingers of her right hand with the trembling fingers of your left, “just because you think that you’re not allowed to cry, t-that doesn’t mean you have to be alone, when you do - and it doesn’t matter if it’s me you cry in front of, because it will never change how I see you; I will always love you, Y/n, and I’m always gonna be here for you, t-through both the bad times, and the good, always.”

You would falter again, thinking about how you’d always believed that you both would get married, and it pained you to think about how this might never be the case anymore, after she had considered so closely marrying someone else. “For better, for worse,” you murmured, and Harley’s eyes would begin to glint, whilst a smile began to tug at the corners of her lips subconsciously; she was hoping that you were still considering marrying her, like you’d promised you would many times, before. “You would both have.. have said that to each other,” you mused, prompting her to grow confused, and resulting in a puzzled expression finding it’s way onto her face, “and then-.. you would have become Harley Luna.”

She would realise, and begin to feel guilty all over again; you were evidently still hung up over what had happened, before you’d both been reunited. “N-No, I wouldn’t have-”

“Why wouldn’t you? I thought you liked him, a-and the name,” you contradicted, and she would feel overwhelmed all of a sudden, not sure of what she could say to make things better, so she found herself stammering a lot more whilst she tried to think of how she could rectify the situation, “just tell me you forgot about me..”

“If I did, I would be lying, and I don’t wanna lie to you, Alpha,” she replied, a hurt look on her face whilst she did, “I love you, a-and - it wasn’t just the fact that he was planning on killing more kids that made me pick up that gun, it was also because-.. despite everything that had happened between us, before - I felt that you were still alive - in that moment - and so I-.. I thought it would be better if I killed him for that reason, too, because I wanted to find you, Y/n; you’ve never actually betrayed or abandoned me for no good reason, before, a-and even if you had - I was still hung up on you, and our promise - so-..” She then stood up after you had a brief moment ago, prompting you to hesitantly turn around, whilst your eyes began to glisten, and it would pain her to see that they were; she hated seeing you upset. “There’s only one person I wanna marry, Y/n,” she continued, her voice close to a whisper, “a-and-.. it’s you, always you, and I would have brought the ring out here with me, but I didn’t think t-that-.. that I would be proposing like I am, now - just tell me it’s romantic, at least.”

“It’s more than romantic enough, for me,” you reassured her, whilst wrapping your arms around her waist, and she would smile lovingly over at you, before wrapping her arms around you, too, “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” she returned, “n-now - would you make me the happiest woman in the world, b-by becoming my wife? I swear I’ll bring the ring out later-”

You would then lean forward to connect your lips to her’s delicately, and she would melt into the kiss subconsciously alongside you. “Of course I will-!” You chimed, before kissing her lovingly again, and she would hold you even closer to her, but you would welcome her action, managing to control yourself a lot better even when your fangs had unfolded. You then picked her up off of the ground, prompting her to giggle, whilst she clung to your shoulders, and connected her forehead to your’s affectionately. “We should continue celebrating inside,” you stated, appearing flustered whilst you did, prompting her to smirk up at you; she evidently knew what you were hinting at, “it - it’s-.. getting cold, a-and - I want my princess to be warm.” She would instantly be flustered by you referring to her as your ‘princess’, and soon found herself blushing, whilst she tried to hide it from you, prompting you to giggle breathlessly alongside her. “What do you say?” You inquired, only wanting to do whatever she wanted to do.

“I’d love to,” she answered, and you would express relief, whilst your eyes seemed to light up a little alongside her’s. You then briefly connected your lips to her’s one more time, before you carried her back inside, and up to your and her room.

🜸🜚🜸

“Seriously-?” Cane remarked, upon finding you both playing a card game on the Kitchen table in the morning; sometimes you both just found it fun to do, especially when you were equally as competitive as one another. “You’re both so old and boring,” she added, “can’t we go and do something else?”

“How does playing cards make us old and boring?” Harley questioned, and Cane would think about it for a moment.

“Because it just does,” she answered, “c’mon, I’m bored.”

“I’ll just take her out,” Huntress spoke up, “since you guys are clearly too busy to even bother.”

You would grimace over at her, and Harley would wince when she noticed, before beginning to pack up the cards. “Why are you such a raging bitch all the time?” You hissed back at her, and she would scowl back at you, before getting up, and forcing herself from the room.

“Y/n,” Harley cooed, and you would instantly relax like you usually did whenever you heard her voice, but would begin to feel guilty - instead - when you noticed the look on Cane’s face.

“How could you say that? You know what she had to go through before,” she retorted, and you would falter, a pained expression on your face, after Cane had rushed off to go and find Huntress and make sure that she was okay.

You would look over at Harley, who appeared to be feeling guilty, too, for not telling you about what had happened to Huntress when she was only a little girl. “What did she have to go through, before?” You inquired, and she would hesitate, before deciding to tell you, though she’d not been sure if she should, last year, whilst you had both been fighting the Omegas alongside the Birds of Prey.

“I guess it just - makes her mad; the fact that you remind her a little of herself; you both had it rough, before, and I guess I did a bit, too,” she mused, after she’d told you everything about the Bertenelli Massacre, “and she doesn’t like to think about how you didn’t end up killing your father after all that stuff he did to you, aside from the fact that she does kinda have some anger issues, sometimes, but not all the time.”

“I can’t believe I never noticed that before,” you mused, feeling awful for how you’d reacted to her remark, earlier, “do you think she hates me, now?”

“I wouldn’t say she hates you,” Harley answered gently, whilst trying to smile reassuringly over at you, and holding both of your hands in her’s to provide as much comfort to you as she possibly could; she didn’t want you to be upset again, “she’s just - getting used to you.”

“I thought she already had, last year,” you admitted, “I saved her life, remember? And Renee’s.”

“I know,” she replied, “but - maybe - maybe it’s just still too early, for her; I think she just needs more time, and then things will be better than they ever were, I promise - I could also try and talk to her for you, if you want me to?”

“No, it’s fine,” you reassured, before shuffling closer to her timidly so you could wrap your arms around her, and she would instantly return the hug, cradling you close to her, “b-but - thank you, Quinzels; I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, either,” she returned, “oh, and don’t worry about Cassie - she’ll come around, just tell her that you didn’t know about Huntress’ family, and - didn’t mean to say what you said the way she thought you did.” You would nod gravely, evidently nervous about messing up, but you would try to hide that fact from her, for fear of worrying, or upsetting her. “Wanna go and find them with me-?” She inquired, and you would think about it for a moment, but before you could answer her, you heard howling nearby, and faltered, guessing that there were Omegas in the area.

Luckily, Harley hadn’t heard them; you knew you’d have to go out there and hold them off to the best of your ability with the pack you’d arrived with, except they seemed skeptical of you after they’d found out that you were working alongside humans, and had even imprinted on one. “I-.. I have to go and do something first,” you stated, and she would appear surprised; she hadn’t been expecting that response from you, and would immediately begin to wonder what you were planning to do, “the others - they’ll be hungry, and aren’t particularly used to human company; I should help them hunt for a little while.”

“O-Oh, okay,” she replied, and you would frown when you noticed that she appeared disheartened to hear that you’d have to go out for a little while, “I didn’t even know that they had followed us here.”

“They always do,” you explained, “I guess I - am their Alpha, after all, though they think I’m - strange, now.” Harley couldn’t help, but giggle, and shake her head a little whilst she did, prompting you to smile lovingly over at her subconsciously; you evidently thought that her reaction was adorable. “I’ll be back soon, I promise,” you claimed, though you knew that there was a chance that anything could go wrong, but would try not to think about it; you were terrified of being torn away from her again, and returning to her with several scratches and bruises, prompting her to appear shocked, as well as hurt, and worried to find that you had been wounded, so you knew you’d have to be as careful as you possibly could, and would have to wear somewhat baggy clothing if you did end up getting hurt, to hide whatever wounds you might return with, “I love you, Sparkle.”

“I love you too, Nugget,” she returned, before hesitantly releasing you, and allowing you to get up, so you could drag yourself toward the front door of the new Birds of Prey base, “a-and be careful out there - promise me you will.”

“I’ll be careful, I promise - there’s no way I’m not returning to you in one piece,” you cooed, and she would smile to the best of her ability back at you, though she was worried, and found herself even beginning to doubt that you would; something she found herself hating herself for, until you had managed to return to her just about in one piece, “s-see you soon - possibly half-an-hour-ish?”

“It better be half-an-hour,” she agreed, and you would grin feebly, before nodding, and rushing out to the waterfall, where your pack were currently resting together.

After things had gone wrong, like you had been hoping they wouldn’t, you found yourself wondering if you might actually die; the Omegas had actually managed to ambush you and the pack, and had evidently been planning this attack, all along; they hadn’t just been passing through, like you thought they had been. Like you usually did during your lowest moments, whilst you were trying to drag yourself away from the pack without them noticing, you found yourself thinking about how they would all, including Harley, Cane, and the Birds of Prey, be better off without you slowing them down - especially Harley, and it didn’t help you to think about how she had been considering actually marrying the man she had briefly been with whilst you were gone, and supposedly dead. Nor did it help to remember everything that had happened, before that: the fight you and Harley had had, before you’d gone over the cliff in an attempt to save her life; the day she’d found out that you’d actually been the one to kill her ex, Max, shocking her, and resulting in her believing you to be the monster you also thought yourself to be, and the day you’d disappeared for a couple of weeks whilst Max had been abusing her, after finding out about what you were, but you could have still helped her, though you were worried about what might happen if she found out about you being a werewolf, before, and you hated yourself for letting him hurt her the way he had been, before she’d managed to break up with him. You would be startled by the sudden ringing of your phone, still laying beneath the willow tree beside your clothes; you’d left them there, before changing, and tracking the area with your pack, which you could hear were now beginning to panic, after you’d muted the bonds between you and each of them, except for Harley, but she still remained to be unaware of what had happened a moment ago; she would soon find out, beginning to panic you even more than you had been, before; you didn’t want her to go out looking for you, and to get herself hurt, too, or to upset her by having her find you in the state that you were currently in, but at the same time, you knew she’d be equally suspicious if you didn’t answer the phone, as you could see that it was her calling you, so you would hesitantly give in, and change back painfully, before accepting the call feebly, and holding your phone up to your right ear with your now shaky and blood-stained right hand. “Y/n-? A-Are you - Are you coming back soon-?” Harley inquired, and you would frown, feeling guilty all over again, before you subconsciously shook your head, whilst your tears began to slowly run down your cheeks. “I miss you so much,” she expressed, and you would feel even worse, wishing, now, that you’d not decided to try and fight the Omegas off, “a-and it’s been longer than half an hour now; you promised me you wouldn’t be any longer.”

“I’m sorry, Quinzels, but,” you murmured, whilst wincing, and leaning heavily against the trunk of the tree behind you, “I’m gonna be a little-.. a little longer.. S-Something came up, a-and-”

“What?” She interrupted, before subconsciously rising from the sofa she had been perched upon. “What happened? Y/n, are you okay? Where are you?” She questioned, and you would hesitate, before deciding you shouldn’t tell her, not wanting her to come looking for you, and you most certainly didn’t want her to find you in the state that you were currently in.

“I’m okay,” you lied, unconvincingly; your voice had managed to crack, and a whimper followed; the pain was gradually becoming more and more excruciating with every passing minute, “just - don’t worry about me - everyone’s fine, a-and - and I’ll see you soon.” You then quickly hung up, and threw your phone away from you, before you whined softly, and let the back of your head rest on the trunk of the tree; you were waiting for death to finally envelope you, so Harley wouldn’t have to be held back, or burdened by you anymore.

🜚

“Y/n!” A familiar voice cried, and your eyelids would slowly open, though they were heavy, and left your eyes appearing half-lidded, as well as dark. “Oh thank god,” the figure whispered shakily, after you’d opened your eyes, and you would squint to try and clear your vision, and once it had cleared just enough, you found your heart beginning to race; Harley was leaning over you, her cheeks tear-stained, and eyes glistening, “s-say something, please.”

You would manage a weak smile up at her, whilst beginning to splutter up and choke on your own blood again, until she carefully lifted you up a little, and cradled you close to her. “I-..” You managed, your voice barely audible, and a strained sob would manage to escape her lips; she was terrified that she might still lose you, if Renee and Huntress didn’t return soon with the medical equipment needed to patch up your scratches and gaping wound on your right side. “I must be in Heaven,” you mustered, and she would tilt her head partially, before shaking it, and lifting her left hand up to your right cheek, so she could use her thumb to delicately brush away the small tears which were managing to escape your eyes.

“Not - Not yet, Alpha,” she replied, her voice trembling whilst she did, and she would then lower her head a little so she could connect her forehead to your’s affectionately, “you aren’t leaving me like this - when you do get to go to Heaven, it’ll be with me, okay? You’re not leaving me again; I won’t let you. We belong together, and we’re meant to do everything together; go everywhere together, and that’s what we’re going to do.” She then looked as if she’d remembered something, and would smile lovingly down at you to the best of her ability, before taking out your ring, and offering it to you. “Now that you’re - in your human form again, I was thinking that you might wanna wear it,” she stated, and you would smile back at her faintly, before nodding, and offering her your left hand so she could slip the ring back onto your finger gently. “Why didn’t you tell me about the Omegas? We could have gone with you-”

“You would have gotten hurt-”

“We would have been fine,” she contradicted, “and you wouldn’t be on the verge of-..” She would falter, and her eyes widened a little, before she looked around, desperate for Renee and Huntress to reappear with the kit.

“Quinzels,” you murmured, and she would glance back down at you, a pained expression on her face, prompting your heart to sink, “d-don’t-.. Even if I.. Even if I do die-”

“Shut up,” she interjected, “you’re not dying; I won’t let you die, n-not without me. If you die, I die-”

“Nobody’s dying today,” another familiar voice sounded out, and you both looked over to find Huntress and Renee rushing toward you, “we’ve got the kit.”

Harley expressed relief, and you would smile lovingly up at her. “You were right,” you mused, “we will die together, a-and go to heaven together, as long as - when the time comes, you still want to.”

“Of course I will,” she responded, “there will never be a time when I don’t want to go to heaven by your side - or wherever we do end up together; I love you so much, a-and that’ll never change, I promise.”

“I love you, too,” you returned, whilst Renee began to treat your wounds, and Harley provided as much comfort to you as she possibly could whilst Renee was doing everything she had to do to try and keep you alive, “and I always will, n-no matter what..” Once Renee had finished treating you, Harley then carefully carried you back to the base, a blanket wrapped around you whilst she did, as you had been naked when the group had found you in the state that you had been in, and you soon found yourself falling asleep in her arms, whilst feeling safe and as if nothing could ever hurt you again, as long as you were in her arms like you were, now.

🜚

“What were you thinking? You have the dumbest Alpha instincts I’ve ever heard of,” Cane ranted at you; she’d, too, been surprisingly shocked and worried after hearing about what had happened to you, “people should be calling you goofy rather than Alpha-”

“Oi,” Harley interjected playfully, whilst she was holding you close to her, her arms around your waist protectively; she was worried that something might try and hurt you again after what had happened to you earlier, “only I’m allowed to tease her about that. Anyway-”

“Would you quit eating my fucking food?” Huntress interrupted, whilst she stormed into your and Harley’s bedroom, and she would wince; she’d evidently unintentionally taken whatever it was that had previously belonged to her.

“W-Wait - was that your burrito in the fridge?” She inquired, and Huntress would scowl over at her; it evidently had been her’s. “Why didn’t you say so? I - I just-.. I don’t know, Y/n was hungry, so-”

“Just - don’t do it again,” she uttered, “I’m gonna have to start writing my names on things now, I guess.”

“Good idea,” Harley chimed, “I should start doing that, too; that was smart-”

“Big whoop,” you murmured, whilst hiding your face from them, “that’s - that’s an easy thing to come up with; I could come up with something like that so much faster.”

Harley would then smirk down at you, whilst Huntress rolled her eyes, before leaving the room. “Aww, is somebody jealous?” She inquired, and you would scoff, before shaking your head, evidently in denial. “Don’t worry,” she cooed, before delicately connecting her lips to your’s, and you would instantly melt into the kiss, whilst butterflies began to flutter around in the lower depths of your stomach, overwhelming you in the best way possible, “you’ll always be my number one, little wolfy, no matter what.”

“G-Good,” you replied, your face instantly a lot brighter than it had been, before, “because you’ll always be my number one, too - always, I promise.”

You then winced, finding yourself feeling tired again, and Harley would smile sadly down at you, after you’d yawned, and your eyes were half-lidded again. “You should get some more sleep, Alpha,” she advised, “you’ve had a long day, and need to rest to get better for me.” You would nod gravely, and Cane would hesitantly stand up, though she’d rather stay to make sure that you were okay, after what had happened not too long ago, now. “You should get to bed now, too, Cassie; you’ve got school tomorrow,” she reminded, and Cane would wince; she’d completely forgotten, “goodnight.”

“Night,” Cane returned, before dragging herself from the room, and leaving you both alone again.

“You - You don’t need to stay here all night, if you’re mad at me for lying, earlier,” you reassured her, but she would shake her head quickly, before resting her head on top of your’s affectionately, and stroking your hair with her left hand.

“I’m not mad at you,” she claimed, “I’m just glad you’re okay, Nugget, but - just - promise me you won’t ever lie again, because - I could have lost you, today, and-.. I-.. I don’t ever want something like that to happen, ever again.”

“I won’t, I promise,” you responded, “and you won’t ever come even close to losing me again, like-.. like you did, today.”

“Good,” she replied, “now - get some sleep, Alpha, and hopefully you’ll feel a little better, tomorrow.” You would then nod, before briefly connecting your lips to her’s again affectionately, and once it was sadly over, you buried your face into the crook of her neck, after letting your eyelids flutter shut.

🜸🜚🜸

“No fair,” Cane whined, after the Christmas party you’d all set up gradually came to a close, “I should be able to stay, too, and to have access to all those drinks you guys have been having - not just the soft stuff-”

Harley would snort alongside you, amused by Cane’s reaction. “I knew it!” She chimed, and Cane would grunt, before looking away from you both. “You’re just jealous that we can drink, and you can’t,” she pieced together, and the Birds of Prey, including even Huntress, would burst out laughing with you both, “don’t worry, Cassie, you’ll get there eventually, and just think - tomorrow morning, you’ll have all your presents to open - exciting, right?”

“Sure,” she uttered, before begrudgingly dragging herself up the stairs, “night!”

“I guess we should be heading off to bed, too,” Renee mused, “got a few thugs to catch tomorrow, after you’ve both returned to the other side with Waller and Bloodsport.”

Harley would appear disheartened by the reminder, but would try to hide it from them; she liked being away from the mission you both were currently on, and it only made you want to try and fight even harder than you already were to end it; to kill the Omega Prime Minister, and his army of both Omegas beneath him and hunters. “I suppose it would probably be sensible,” she remarked, though she’d rather stay up, “gotta-.. be prepared - for training, tomorrow - and pushing the next bout of hunters and stinky Omegas back. What do you say, Alpha?”

“You’re right,” you corroborated, before standing up after her, and smiling over at the others, “we’ll see you all in the morning to do the presents - c’mon, Quinzels.”

“Night, guys,” she concluded, before following you up the stairs to your and her bedroom, but it wouldn’t be long before you’d both be woken up again by more howling close by, except it wasn’t the Omegas this time, it was your pack calling for your assistance; they’d devised a plan to try and infiltrate the hidden base the Omega Prime Minister had been currently residing in recently to try and trick the group, and ensure his own ‘safety’ whilst building his army up even more.

🜚

You would tense up immediately after hearing your pack howling for you, and Harley would wake up shortly after you had, upon hearing them. “Y/n-? What’s going on?” She inquired sleepily, before sitting up, after you’d gotten out of bed to look out the window, finding each of them stood below, and some weaving between the trees behind those stood at the edge of Apocalypse Forest. “Is it the Omegas again?” She pried, and you would hesitate, before glancing back at her; they’d phased to you their plan through their pack bond which was connecting them to you, and you were afraid of how she might react if you told her about it, whilst at the same time feeling bad for considering lying to her again, after you’d promised her before that you wouldn’t.

“No,” you claimed, before turning to face her fully, and she would shyly walk up to you, before wrapping her arms around your waist, and you would smile softly over at her, whilst you returned the embrace, and she buried her face into the crook of your neck; she was worried about what their sudden outburst might mean for you both, and was terrified that she might lose you, if whatever they were planning on doing resulted in them being ambushed again, and you almost being killed, “they’re just - bombing me with all the: ‘I really wish you were here right now with us’ kind of things, as it’s basically-” You would quickly look up at the clock, to make sure that it was past Midnight, now, “well, Christmas day, now - we’re just past midnight.”

“Oh,” she replied, whilst expressing relief, and smiling lovingly over at you, “w-well, if you want, we could - go down there and spend some time with them?”

You would hesitate, before shaking your head. “Tomorrow,” you answered, whilst lifting your right hand up to her left cheek, and she would subconsciously lean into your touch, before leading you slowly back toward your and her bed.

🜚

The next morning, you’d made sure to get up earlier than the others and Harley to talk to your pack, and to try and negotiate a time for you all to try and infiltrate the Omega Prime Minister’s base, but you would also request for them, before concluding the secret meeting, to not say a word about the plan, at least until Christmas and Boxing day had passed, so you could all have a couple of somewhat more peaceful days, before the approaching - supposed - final battle, and once the secret meeting had been concluded, you snuck back up to your and Harley’s bedroom to rejoin her in bed, until she and the others began to stir.

“What? It’s not my fault that I look better in your clothes than you do,” Harley remarked playfully, after you’d found yourself staring longingly over at her; you’d offered her the jacket that Canary had bought for you so she could try it on, and you would smirk, amused by her response to your subconscious action.

“Damn right you do,” you corroborated, before leaning forward to kiss her lovingly, and she would melt into the kiss, whilst smiling warmly against your lips, but you would both try not to deepen it, no matter how much you wanted to, as the others were in the room, and neither of you wanted to make things awkward. “I love you so much,” you expressed, your voice close to a whisper whilst you did, and she would grin over at you, her eyes glinting whilst she did, before she connected her forehead to your’s, wishing you could both stay there for longer, with Cane, Bruce, and the Birds of Prey, “M-Merry Christmas, Quinzels.”

“Merry Christmas, Alpha,” she returned, before you both returned your attention to Cane, who was in the process of opening her gifts from the both of you.

🜚

After Christmas, and Boxing day, you still found you couldn’t tell them about the plan; you were terrified of how they might react to it, and even more so whenever you found yourself thinking about what could happen to Harley, if it was carried out; it was extremely risky, and could potentially lead to many more deaths than you’d been expecting, or hoping it would. However, your hiding it began to frustrate your pack, and Cane soon overheard you fighting with them about it, but she wouldn’t say anything to Harley or the others, after you’d - a few days before - found out that she’d been going out, in secret, with one of the boys from her school. “I won’t tell, if you don’t,” she stated, after you’d realised that she’d had to have been listening, upon you finding her waiting for you inside the base, and you would nod gravely, before you both awkwardly returned to the living room, where Harley, Bruce, and the Birds of Prey currently were, watching tv together.

🜚

“Got anything to say to us, before we go to bed?” Harley inquired, and Cane would wince, before shaking her head. “Oh c’mon,” she whined, “it’s only a simple, yet meaningful three words, Cassie.”

You couldn’t help, but giggle softly, amused by her attempts to try and get Cane to say the three words you both loved to hear. “Fine,” she gave in, “I - love you both - ugh, that’s disgusting, now get out; I’m tired.”

“Good,” she chimed, “we love you, too - we’ll get out of your hair, now. Goodnight!”

“Night,” Cane returned, and Harley would then get up off of the edge of her bed, before leaving the room, and waiting for you by the door of your and her’s.

“Night, kiddo,” you replied, before hesitantly pushing yourself off of the doorframe, and toward Harley. She would smile lovingly over at you, glad to see that you and Cane were getting along much better, now, before opening the door for you, and you would smile your thanks back at her, before slipping into the room, and she would follow immediately after, closing the door whilst she went.

🜚

The next morning, you had been called by your pack again - well, you thought you had been, but it had been two members in particular who had summoned you, and it worried you to find that it had been them - Caesar and Michael - the two members you found yourself having the least amount of trust in, after they’d almost gotten you killed by abandoning you after the ambush which had come before you being reunited with Harley again. It didn’t take you long, to deem your decision to answer their call a bad one; you soon found them beating you; they evidently - and had made it exceptionally clear - that they didn’t like the fact that you’d been holding back their plan, and hadn’t even told anyone about it yet, aside from the fact that they disapproved of the fact that you’d imprinted on a human, and hadn’t changed her yet - they also just didn’t like you, and hated the fact that they had to follow you. Once they were done, you found yourself limping back toward the base, and would falter as soon as you noticed Harley stood by the back door, hugging herself whilst she did; it was currently quite cold out - 9 or so degrees, you recalled, after you’d checked a little earlier upon waking up to them howling for you.

Her heart would sink, upon noticing all the cuts and bruises you’d returned with, and the small blood trail you were leaving behind you, evidently from your right leg. “Y/n,” she mustered feebly, before rushing over to you, and throwing her arms around you. “Are you okay? W-What happened? Who the fuck hurt you?” She questioned, after holding you at arm’s length, and you found you couldn’t even respond, feeling much too weak to, and you found you even couldn’t hold yourself up for much longer, and began to lean heavily against her, prompting her to protectively wrap her arms around your waist, whilst she looked around, after hearing chuckling nearby; Michael and Caesar had evidently been following you. “Show yourselves, I dare you!” She demanded, and they would step out, like the fools they were. She then brandished her spear, and lugged it in their direction, prompting them to swiftly retreat with their tails between their legs; they’d changed back to make a faster getaway. “Don’t you ever come near her again, because I will kill you next time!” She threatened after them, before returning her attention to you, her eyes again full of the concern she was currently holding for you.

“You’re-.. gonna be in deep shit, w-when-.. when their mama finds out you threatened them like that,” you managed in a shaky whisper, and Harley would shrug; she didn’t care, evidently, as she was only focussed on protecting and treating you, in this moment.

“I don’t care what she tries to do to me,” she replied, whilst slowly leading you back toward the base, “you are all that matters to me, Alpha; without you, I have nothing-”

“That’s not true,” you contradicted, a hurt look on your face whilst you glanced over at her, “you’ll always be everything, e-even without me, and you should care about what she might try and do, because when werewolves want revenge, it gets-.. very - bloody.”

“I hope you’re right about that, because I like a messy battle,” she remarked, “but don’t worry, I’ll try not to - well, kill her, if you’ll permit me to try and defend myself if she does decide to try and take action against me?”

“Only if I’m not there to try and defend you, myself,” you hesitantly corroborated quietly, and she would beam over at you, finding how you always being so protective and willing to defend her flattering, and the thought seem to even fluster her a little, “o-or if I get knocked out, or something, b-but - that won’t happen, I promise; I won’t let it.”

“You don’t always have to be so quick to try and risk your life for me, you know that, right?” She inquired, and you would falter, a look of disbelief on your face, whilst you were looking over at her again.

“Are you kidding me?” You responded, and she would simply shake her head, whilst intertwining the fingers of her free left hand with the trembling fingers of your pale right one. “I do have to,” you claimed, “not just because I want to, but because I can’t let you die; I can’t live without you, Quinzels, you-.. you mean-.. everything to me; more than life itself, a-and-.. if I lost you, I’d lose everything, including everything within me keeping me the way I am; I exist only for you, a-and that’s all I want, hence why I gave you my stone wolf, remember?”

She couldn’t help, but smile lovingly over at you, whilst tears threatened to escape her stunning icy blue eyes. “I love you so much,” she expressed, and you would try to return the significant three words to her, but before you could, you found yourself on the verge of collapsing again, and would whimper quietly whilst you did, but she would manage to catch you and hold you up again before you could hit the ground. “It’s okay, Nugget,” she cooed, “I’ve got you; I’ll never let you fall, ever, I promise, and I swear I will do everything I can to try and stop you from losing me, as long as you promise me that I’ll never lose you.”

You would smile softly up at her, wondering why - especially when she was still human, and had more free will - she still cared about you the way that she did, and still wanted to be by your side: to be your mate, after everything you’d both been through together. “You’ll never lose me, I promise,” you returned, “I love you, m-more than anything, and I will always fight just to be able to stay by your side, even when you decide you don’t want to be my mate anymore.”

“Y/n,” she whined, a hurt look on her face, and you would wince, “you - you know that that will never happen; I love you, and I could never love anyone else as much as I do you, you know that, right?”

“I know,” you replied, trying not to appear doubtful, though you were; you would always worry that she might find someone better than you, and leave you to rot and become an omega, or even to just die, but at the same time, you hated yourself for thinking that she would do that to you, when you knew, or rather hoped, that she wouldn’t consider hurting you like that, “you-.. still want me to change you, right? Once - Once this is all over?”

“Of course I do,” she answered, “I wanna be a big scary wolf, like you; you’re awesome!”

“Then you will be,” you chimed, glad to hear that she hadn’t had a change of heart, “but if you ever do decide you don’t-”

“I’ll always want to be like you,” she reassured, “now c’mon - I gotta get you patched up, before the big scary mom comes looking for me.” You would wince, before nodding in agreement, and nervously looking over your shoulder to check that she wasn’t already stalking you both, which she didn’t appear to be; she still had yet to hear about how Harley had threatened them, but little did you both know that she would be in agreement with you both that Harley had done nothing wrong; she’d only been defending you - her mate - and that was natural. You would both also be glad to hear that she’d punished Michael and Caesar for attacking you like they had, and that they wouldn’t be bothering you as much as they had been, anymore.

🜚

“I was wondering - why would they even attack you like that?” Harley inquired, after Renee had patched you up again, like she’d had to, before, not too long ago, now.

You would falter, and try to quickly think of an answer, afraid of how she might react if you told her about the plan you’d been recently hiding from them. “T-They just, er-.. well, I suppose they’ve never really liked me very much, a-and - probably wouldn’t mind being alpha, themselves,” you stammered out, and she would appear disappointed; she’d actually found out, after briefly leaving the room, and coming across your diary, that you had been hiding the plan your pack had come up with for a little while now - she couldn’t believe you were lying to her again, after you’d promised her that you wouldn’t.

“Really?” She questioned, and you would nod quickly, suddenly appearing frightened of something; you were worried that she already knew, and would begin to curse yourself when you found out that she did. “Because - that’s not what your diary said, in it’s most recent entry,” she contradicted, and you would fall quiet, a pained expression on your face whilst you did; you couldn’t believe you’d left it out like you had, and had now evidently upset her again, like you’d vowed that you wouldn’t anymore.

“Harley,” you whined, but she would cut you off by dropping your diary down onto your and her bed beside you.

“When are you gonna start keeping your promises?” She pried, her voice briefly trembling whilst she did, before she stormed out of the room, and you couldn’t help, but break down a brief moment after she’d left you alone in the room; you were sick of hurting her by trying to do things that you thought would protect her, and wished she’d just give up on you, and find someone better than you. You even found yourself subconsciously slipping the ring off of your finger, and setting it down on the bedside table, before you forced yourself out of your and her bed, and limped toward the window, intending to give her some more space, though you weren’t currently in the same room anymore; you didn’t want her to feel as if she had to do anything else for you, after you’d upset her again, so you hurriedly removed your clothing, before leaping out of the window, and tearing into your wolf form mid-air whilst you did, so you could stagger toward Apocalypse Forest, and the waterfall you’d grown up, and found yourself changing with.

🜸🜚🜸

The next day, Harley wouldn’t know that you’d gone, until the morning came, and you were all, excluding you, of course, sat around the kitchen table eating breakfast together. Things seemed to be okay, until Harley had noticed that Cane had been trying to hide the left side of her neck, prompting her to grow suspicious of her, and to, when she was least expecting it, lean over suddenly and move her hair out of the way, revealing a few dark marks which shocked Harley, and Renee alongside her, after Renee had managed to get a not-so-good look at them, too. “Cassandra Cane, are those hickeys on your neck?” Harley questioned, and Cane would then wince, before rushing up to her room, but before Harley could follow her, Renee would stop her, worried about her possibly going about things the wrong way, in response to Cane’s evident actions behind each of their backs.

You would then burst through the back door, upon sensing that Harley had been distressed by something, worrying you; you’d thought that she was in trouble, evidently, and was terrified of the possibility of her getting either hurt, or killed. ‘What happened?’ You phased, and had forgotten that they’d thought that you were still upstairs in bed, after you’d had to be treated.

You then rushed up to Harley’s right side to examine her, and try to find any wounds she might have somehow been given, whilst you had been away from her. She would then shove you away gently, after she’d regained composure, and you would falter, whilst beginning to feel guilty all over again for lying to her, and upsetting her the day before. She would feel bad for pushing you away upon noticing the hurt look on your face, before standing up, whilst her eyes began to glisten. “You’re sneaking out now?” She hissed shakily, but before you could answer, she would rush forward, and crouch down in front of you so she could throw her arms around you; she was just glad that you were okay, and hadn’t returned in a worse state than you had been in, before. “I’m so sorry,” she whined, before pressing her face into the crook of your neck, whilst she began to cry, making you feel even worse; you hated seeing her upset, and wished you’d not lied to her, and the others about the plan, “I shouldn’t have stormed out like that, I know; I should have given you a chance to explain-”

‘No, Quinzels,’ you interjected gently, whilst tears began to cloud your vision, too, ‘you were right for reacting the way you did; I shouldn’t have lied like that, I was just scared of telling you and the others about their plan; it’s - it’s incredibly risky, a-and.. and - I could lose you; I can’t let that happen-’

“Every plan we come up with to end this is gonna be risky, Alpha,” she reminded you, “there’s nothing we can do to try and make it any safer, and.. there’s equally nothing we can do to try and prevent anything happening to any of us; to prevent any-.. casualties.. we’ve just gotta try and - avoid them, and think positively; we can end this, Nugget, I know we can, and I can’t promise that we’ll get out of it completely unharmed, or alive, but - I believe - if we try hard enough; if we fight hard enough, and stick together - we can.” She would then delicately brush away a stray tear from your left cheek with her right thumb, as her right hand was now resting upon it, prompting you to subconsciously lean into her touch, whilst you locked eyes with her in the best way possible. “Can’t we?” She inquired, hoping you believed that you all could, too.

You would then smile softly over at her, whilst your eyes began to glint, prompting her heart to skip a beat, and a smile to tug at the corners of her lips again, before you nodded. ‘Damn right we can,’ you answered, and she would beam victoriously over at you, until Cane re-entered the room, appearing worried again.

“Y/n’s not-..” She would fall quiet, upon noticing you with Harley. “Upstairs anymore,” she concluded quietly, before warily stepping back, and you would wonder why the atmosphere in the room had suddenly grown to be so intense, prompting you to look between Harley and Cane for a moment, a puzzled expression on your face whilst you did.

‘What’s-’

“Someone’s been giving Cassie hickeys,” Harley answered, and you would suddenly falter again, before grimacing, and subconsciously rising, whilst your irises began to flicker dangerously between their bold orange colour and a bright red.

‘I’ll kill them,’ you growled quietly, and Harley would wrap her arms around your neck to try and provide comfort to you, and calm you down; she was worried about you possibly getting into trouble with Waller if she found out that you had tried to maul a child.

“Nobody’s dying today, Nugget,” she cooed, before returning her attention to Cane, who was shifting uncomfortably in place, “just - tell us - what’s their name? Are they in your year?”

She would suddenly appear fearful, worried about what Harley might be planning to do to her boyfriend, Noah. “W-Why?” She questioned, and Harley would wince, before thinking for a moment, and shrugging a little whilst she did.

“Oh, nothing,” she answered, but Cane wouldn’t believe that, at all, “I just wanna talk to them, nothing particularly serious.”

“You can’t-”

“I think I can, and I will-”

“Harley,” Renee warned, but Canary would find herself amused by the situation, as well as concerned about what Noah might end up doing to Cane.

“I think we should, Renee,” Canary corroborated, “just to make sure he’s suitable enough for her, and to set some boundaries.”

Renee would think about it for a moment, before begrudgingly giving in, and nodding. “Fine,” she replied, before turning to face Cane, “where do they live?”

🜚

“Oh c’mon,” Cane whined, “please let me go with you-”

“No,” Harley interjected, and she would groan, evidently frustrated, as well as worried about what might happen to Noah.

“Why not-?” She retorted, and you would smile reassuringly over at Harley, noticing she seemed a little annoyed, still, after what has happened, with her finding the hickeys on Cane’s neck.

“Because I’m pretty sure I told you to stay in the car,” Harley answered, and Cane would grunt, before turning away from her, and you would shuffle toward the car door after she’d gotten out next to you, “make sure she doesn’t try to escape, Alpha, I’ll be back soon.”

She would then lean down to briefly connect her lips to your’s lovingly, and you would instantly melt into the kiss, before smiling warmly back at her after the kiss had sadly ended, whilst your heart began to race. “Good luck trying to get through to them,” you offered, and Harley would wince, before smiling her thanks back at you, and rushing off to catch up to the others who were waiting at the gate of Noah’s parent’s house.

You would then turn to face the centre of the car, and could feel that Cane was glaring over at you. “You promised they wouldn’t find out,” she reminded you, and you would falter, “where were you?”

“Out,” you answered simply, “I had to-”

“No, you didn’t,” she contradicted, “you probably just rushed out for some other selfish reason; you’re pathetic.”

You would sigh, before nodding your head gravely; you knew she was right; you’d felt as if you had to be away from them for a little while, to try and protect them, and to take your anger and sadness out on the tres and boulders you came across. “Yeah,” you murmured, “you’re probably right about that, kiddo; I could have stayed, and this wouldn’t have happened-”

“Do you know what I’m gonna have to do, now?” Cane inquired, and you would nod again.

“Tell them about the plan I’ve been trying to hide from them,” you answered, “but - it’s too late.. they already know about it, now.”

Cane would fall quiet for a moment, shocked, as well as irritated to hear that she now had nothing to mentally burden you with, for letting them find out about her and Noah. “How?” She hissed, and you would bow your head a little, whilst you thought about how there was a chance you could lose Harley, if the plan was carried out, soon finding yourself fighting back tears again; you were terrified, and found you couldn’t prompt yourself to be positive about the plan, at all, after a few nights of considering every single possibility. “For god’s sake,” she continued, and you would try to swallow the lump in your throat, before nodding again timidly.

“I could still be hurt, y’know, even if you don’t have anything else to tell them about me,” you replied, “even though it wasn’t you who told them - If I lost Harley, I don’t-..” A strained sob would manage to escape your lips, but you would try and cover it up with a shaky and unconvincing cough. “I don’t know what I’d do,” you expressed, your voice barely audible, “I’d lose.. I’d lose everything, a-and.. I could become an Omega; like one of those monsters. I could - hurt - so many people.. She’s the only one keeping me tethered to this world; I exist, and was made only for her, and if she dies, I would rather die, too, alongside her.”

“So you’d kill yourself, and leave me to fend for myself?” She guessed, and you would glance over at her, whilst the tears streamed down your cheeks.

“You’d be fine,” you claimed, and she would scoff, before looking away from you, “you have the Birds of Prey-”

“But you aren’t them; you and Harley are supposed to be my parents,” she interrupted, and you found you couldn’t respond; you weren’t sure how to, “screw you.” She would then swiftly take off one of her sneakers, before hitting you across the face with it, shocking you, and allowing her to quickly lean over you and snatch the car keys from you so she could unlock it, and sprint away from it.

“Cassie!” You called, and would stagger out of your side of the car, but you found she had disappeared from your vision by the time you’d managed to get out, and recover yourself. “Shit,” you spat, whilst Canary and Huntress attempted to run after her, and Harley and Renee had decided to return to you, “I’m so sorry, Quinzels..”

Harley would falter when she noticed the red mark on your right cheek, and you would bow your head again after she’d released your chin. “She hit you-?” She mused, but you wouldn’t respond, finding you couldn’t; you were trying not to cry again, feeling guilty for letting her run away like that. “Y/n,” she cooed, “look at me.. Does it hurt? D-Do you want me to get you anything?”

“I don’t need anything,” you tried to reassure her, before anxiously looking toward Apocalypse Forest, “but Cassie might; she’s heading into Omega territory.”

“We’re gonna get her out,” she promised, “and they won’t even touch her, I’m sure they won’t.” She would then turn to face Renee, who was evidently worried, and anxious to go after Cane, before the Omegas could get to her. “C’mon, I wanna have stern words with her, before the Omegas can,” she encouraged, and Renee would nod, before rushing toward Apocalypse Forest alongside you both, “I’ll make sure she won’t hit you again like that, and I’ll get that mark to fade and the pain to go away before the sun’s gone down, I promise.”

“Don’t bother,” you responded, “it was my fault, Quinzels..”

She would appear puzzled, glancing over at you, whilst she began to slow down a little after you had. “What do you mean?” She inquired, and you would wince, before looking away from her. “Y/n-”

You would both be cut off by a roar nearby, and you would falter, noticing the Omega running toward you both. “Look out-!” You cried, but she would be - despite her attempt to jab at the omega with her spear - knocked down, and would fall unconscious as soon as the back of her head had hit the ground.

~~~~~

Hope you enjoyed it! ❤️

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drunk-cryptic-witch · 2 years

Text

Harley: y/n y/n guess what!

Y/n: What

Harley: I replaced Parker’s pills with those fake ones that turn into little animals

Y/n: Oh that’s evil *half scared half interested*

Peter, from the other room: I THREW UP A ZEBRA

#Peter Parker #peter parker incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes #incorrect peter parker #incorrect harley keener quotes #incorrect peter and harley #peter x y/n #harley x reader #mcu #incorrect mcu quotes #marvel #incorrect marvel #incorrect marvel quotes #peter x reader #peter parker x reader

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yanverse · 5 months

Note

stop cuz as a fellow Lazy Girl ™ who also simps for Harley I'm wondering what tactics he would employ if you just like, wouldn't wake up/get out of bed or dawdled too long on your chores.

It depends on how much he likes you! More how comfortable he is around you, though. If you're not that close it's just:

"Get up."

and not much else. If you still refuse after that he might just give it up if he can't be bothered (which is rare) or, more likely, you'll get the covers thrown off you and dragged out of bed to come do your part. He'll carry you over his shoulder if he has to, cause he's sure you'll start making yourself useful if he threatens to make you haul crap outta the barn with a shovel.

But if you're comfortable, captive, and semi lovey-dovey? Harley might smack you with a pillow and try to be serious about it, but he's got a grin peeking out when you sit up with mussed hair and a pout. As for dawdling on your chores, he'll have grown used to your antics and it'll be more endearing than annoying. So, if anything, he'll just deliver a nice, hard smack to your ass as he passes by and smirk over you whining about it--or feeling the impact so hard you stumble over and have to catch yourself on the fence. That should get you going, right?

#harley kunuk #harley kunuk x reader #harley x reader #yandereverse #male yandere #yandere ocs #ellie writes #phantom-ofthelibrary #anons

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gettinshiggywithit · 1 year

Text

Marvel x monster high!

inspired by @multiverse-of-yn

word count:-1127

tw:- nothing that i can think of(maybe just that its not edited... :' 3)

pairing:-harley,peter,morgan x platonic!teen afab reader

with a cameo by clawdeen,draculaura and frankie stein

(will this become a series? who knows?)

clarification:- reader is from our world but can travel between universes to whichever she wants.also its like she's visited different fictional universes and is friends with a of of fictional characters!

ps. this is an old piece

It was a standard morning at the avengers compound and peter parker was in his assigned room,scrolling away on tumblr.

When suddenly,a bright pink,purple and blue portal opened up in his doorway.

Peter merely looked up and went back to scrolling and out of the portal came a (y/h/c) haired girl.

She stepped into peter’s room and closed the portal behind her.afterward she walked on over to peter’s bed,plopped down next to him and leaned on his shoulder.

“sup webs!” she said while watching him scroll.

“um nothing much y/n/n.just goun through the ‘ol hellsite,”he put his phone down and turned towards her, “what about you?how’s everything over on Earth-1218?”

“um still pretty non-super.basic as ever.”she said while yawning.

“so what brings you over?”peter asked.

“was bored,thought id visit my favourite web slinger!”she said over-enthusiasticaly.

At this peter got up off the bed and took her with him.

“well then lets go meet the guys!”the familiar spark in his eyes had returned and Y/n knew his social battery was finally at 100%

They walked out of his room and over to the common room where everyone was seated doing their regular stuff.

As soon as the duo walked in,the heroes visibly brightened.

“Hey kid! What brings you over to this side of the border?”asked tony from the kitchen island where he was making what Y/n could only guess was his Nth mug of coffee for the day.

“nothing much tony,just thought id visit you guys.” She said with a smile.

“its good to see you y/n/n .” Said bucky barnes as he enveloped the teenager in a bear hug.

“Buckyyy,” she squealed out as her older-brother-figure gave her a head pat. “whoa! You got a hair cut?!” she said outloud.

“yeah,how’d I look?”he asked as turned around.

“you look so different.” She said, “but- its a good different! You look way younger”she concluded.

“thanks kid!”He said,clearly happy with her response.

Next, she made her way over to the couch where peter had seated himself down.

“TV?”she asked and he nodded.

She picked up the remote to turn the tv on when all of a sudden she heard a sarcastic little voice and launched herself out of the couch and tackled the owner of said voice.

Harley Keener had no idea what hit him and when he looked down at the cause for his fall,to see his interdemential-travelling friend. “well hey there.” He said

“HIIIII!,” she practically screamed back.She hadn’t seen Harley since 2019.

He never seemed to be around when she happened to visit.

And a second after their little exchange Y/n heard a little giggle and looked up to see tony’s daughter,Morgan Stark standing a few centimeters away from where Harley had been standing just a moment ago.

She immediately got up and scooped up the little stark and gave her a kiss on the cheek and she started laughing even more.

“how’ve you been, bean?”Y/n said through her own laughter.

“Im oka-he-he”she said through little laughs.

Next she brought her over to the couch and Harley joined her.

Tony watched this whole ordeal and smiled his signature proud-dad smile.

“okay, shall we actually watch some TV now?”peter asked exasperatedly.

“yeah lets!”replied morgan.

At this the older avengers filed out of the room waving good bye as they went,it was going to get really loud really fast now that all four of Tony’s kids,both adopted and biological,were in one place.

The quartet just waved and didn’t think anything of it.The knew they were a little loud and they didn’t mind their older friends leaving.

This way they had more room to fool around and just have fun without having to worry about bothering anyone else!

Harley saw that both the web-slinger and his world-hopping buddy were busy and snatched up the remote from peter’s hand.

“HEY!” exclaimed both Y/n and peter in perfect unison.

To which he casually retorted,“well you guys weren’t gonna turn it on anytime soon.”

They mumbled out their protests but didn’t do anything to get the remote back.

Harley pressed the big red button and turned on the TV to a familiar and nostalgic little jingle.

Both peter and y/n’s eyes widened to the size of saucers and they had huge grins on their faces.

Harley immediately face-palmed. He recognized it too.

“MONSTER MONSTER HIGH MONSTER HIGH MONSTER MONSTER HIGH,FREAKY CHIC AND FLY MONSTER HIGH,WHERE STUDENT BODIES LIE!!!”

The duo belted out the lyrics to the monster high fright song and morgan just stared at them in wonder while Harley covered his ears.

After the anthem ended,the duo went on a rant about the series from their childhood while commenting on the new wave of dolls and how absolutely sacrilegious they were,and how maybe the new creeproductions could make up for it.

They even roped morgan into it and while the three of them were occupied,Harley changed the channel and started watching battle bots.

And five minutes later Y/n gasped out loud and everything went silent,apart from the robot match on the television.

“what??”asked peter in a small voice.

“I HAVE A GENIUS IDEA!”exclaimed Y/n.

Next she leaned in and told peter and morgan her idea.

“OKAY!!”came their reply and Harley knew they’d definitely rope him into it.

Next the three of them got up and dragged Harley along with them

“where are we goin?”asked already Harley knowing that he wasn’t going to like it.

“We,my little friend,”started Y/n, “are goin on over to monster high!”

“Wait what?!”said Harley, “how??”

To which Y/n wacked him on the head, “my little trick you wackus bonkus!” she said.

“that’s not the joke-, okay fine but wont they be, oh I dunno weirded out by the sudden appearance of a few normies’”he asked.

“well I already know them and- wait how do you know we’d be considered normies??” she asked

“I…I watched a few episodes okay!” he admitted.

“I knew you were a man of culture,keener!” said peter,posin dramatically with his hands on his hips.

“okay whatever,lets get goin,or do you guys wanna stay and chat?”he asked,a smug look on his face.

“right!”said Y/n

“buckle in boys and girl,we’re goin to the most skull-tastic highschool ever!” and with that she opened another portal right in the common room.

They all stepped through and the next thing they knew,they were in a crowded hallway filled with different students from the student body of the most iconic monster school.

“Oh my fangs! Y/n is that you??”they heard a little voice and when they turned around,Y/n,peter,Harley and morgan were met with the iconic, trio of Clawdeen wolf,Draculaura and Frankie stein.

“No way…..” said peter in disbelief.

“yes way!” said Y/n.

“guys meet my ghoulfriends clawdeen,ula d and Frankie!”she added “and ghouls,meet Harley,peter and morgan!”

dividers by @justlgbtthings

Please don’t repost my work here or on any other platforms, but tagging and reblogging is most welcome??

id love to hear your thoughts if u have any!

#monster high #clawdeen wolf #draculaura #frankie stein #harley keener #peter parker #morgan stark #marvel #mcu #marvel x monster high #marvel x reader #harley x reader #peter x reader #draculaura x reader #clawdeen x reader #frankie x reader #monster high x reader

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good-night-doll · 2 years

Text

Kissin' in the rain~

:While some people party and get drunk on alcohol to celebrate, dancing in the rain with Harley Quinn is certainly your way of doing just that.

Word count: 548

Warnings: None

(I haven't proof read it yet so be aware, thanks!)

You've never been so hypnotised by anything in your life, the way her hands rest on your shoulders as you rock around in circles under the bleeding sky is mind fogging.

Her makeup is smudged along her face from the rain that dribbles down so effortlessly, polishing her pink, plush lips and shining her eyelashes as she sheepishly bats them your way.

"Isn't this better?" Her voice comes out like honey, regaining its touch with reality instead of pulling on the insane stings. She sounds like the Doctor Harleen Quinzel you've heard about, not the bat-shit crazy psycho you've grown to admire. It's a change you don't necessarily mind.

You hum, protecting the smile you so desperately want to share with the world. "Being out here is certainly doing something to me" she lets out an airy laugh, fiddling with the fabric seams of your outfit as her lips part ways.

"I've got that feeling too," she whispers, teeth barely visible through her own sly grin, her eyes moving from your own to your lips. "But mine's different"

"How so?" her face contorts slightly, looking more seductive from the twitch in her lips and the hooded eyes."Wouldn't you like to know?"

Her hands move side to side on your shoulders, rubbing them teasingly before wrapping around the back of your neck as she drags herself closer. Her wet forehead on yours as you both close your eyes, just silently embracing the comforting moment- still rocking peacefully in the rain together.

Your breaths mingle with passion and lust, thoughts linger with questions and desires, hands move with grace and minds of their own.

"Want me to show you?" Harley asks, hands sliding further down than expected, earning a small yelp from you. You nod, your noses rubbing together in a small Eskimo kiss.

Without further confirmation, Harley tilts her head up, bumping her plush lips with yours. Her lips are soft and smooth as they eagerly move against yours, wanting to get the most out of this heartfelt moment. The intimate action is intoxicating. Her bubblegum sweet lips are addictive like the drugs being handed out to helpless teenagers each night. Kissing her is a sin, but pulling away would feel like an even bigger sin.

Harley hesitantly pulls away, taking deep breaths as she just stares at you, cheeks finally gaining the colour they've always lacked, the pigment of blush pink making an appearance. "I don't think I got that. Mind telling me again?" You sheepishly whisper, looking at her as she only grins, leaning back in once her breathing was practically even again.

Her lips capture yours once again, savouring the moment for a second time with a smile playing the part on her dangerous lips.

The faint hammering of your heartbeat rings in your ears and the pulsating growth of your heart throbbing for the woman in front of you only confirms one thing. She's the one you love.

"Did you get it that time?" She cocks her head, licking her lips as she looks into your eyes, accessing your soul. "I have a few other ways to tell you if not" you breathe out heavily, smiling to yourself as you stare at the love of your life.

She's insane, she's brilliant, she's Harley Quinn.

#harley quinn #harley quinzel #gxg #harley quinn x reader #reader #reader insert #dc #gotham #dc universe #dc harley quinn #harleen quinzel #dc imagine #harley quinn imagine #harley x reader

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amphibiahawks321 · 1 month

Text

Harley Quinn : is it just me or does Y/N's ass lookin more fine today?

Deadshot : Groans first, why are you saying that to me of all people Second, have you ever tried not to be open minded....

Harley Quinn : Ha! yeah no!

Harley Quinn : HEY Y/N!

[Y/N heard Harley called]'

M!Reader : ???

Harley Quinn : Your ass lookin mighty fine today!

[Deadshot facepalm]'

M!Reader : ......

M!Reader blushing : What-

#male reader #dc x reader #reader x dcu #reader x dc #dcu x reader #reader x harley #harley x reader #harley quinn x reader #reader x harley quinn #harley quinn #dc #dcu #dceu #dceu x reader #reader x dceu

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love-toxin · 11 months

Text

Trapped - Harley Kunuk

a/n: for reference for any new lovelies--this is a piece featuring one of my ocs <3 this is cut to be a little shorter but lmk if you'd like me to finish the next part!

(cws: gn!reader, yandere, depression/mental illness, non-yandere stalker, blood, injury, nightmares, meet-cute, minor violence, misuse of farm tools, teasing, protective yandere, mutual pining, sharing a bed, fluff and comfort)

word count: 7.3k

A sharp twang echoes through the forest, the sound and his hard motion startling you enough for your nails to dig into his shoulder through the leather. You'd be surprised if a big guy like him would even feel it, and you think that especially so when you cast a glance down and feel your heart skip at the carnage lying before you. You almost feel worse for the trap than you do yourself–you've got some stinging dents, scrapes, and punctures in your skin from the teeth clamping down on them, but with his bare hands Harley's bent the steel jaws back so far they've snapped off the base of the trap completely. One of them lies shattered in pieces in the dirt, the spring holding it all together looks completely bent out of place, by all accounts it's completely unsalvageable. And completely your fault.

"Thank you. I'm really sorry-"

"Don't step into my traps again, unless you turn into a rabbit."

"I mean it. Watch your feet around here."

"Uh…Harley, hey! Wait!"

"...Hurts? Can you feel that?"

"...Wait here. I don't live far, I'll go get my kit and come back. Don't cry."

"Uh, what? Do I know you?" You shake your head in disbelief, taking great caution to step back slowly enough that you don't slip on your weak ankle.

"I don't see him."

"Did I scare you? I'm sorry." You shake your head and lift it from where it's buried in his neck, a trembling hand wiping your face for what feels like the millionth time today.

"So I am a bunny now? You'd better not turn me into rabbit stew, then." You chuckle, a sniffle peppering your breath.

"The farm?" He queries, gaze sliding towards those same structures out the window before he finds an answer. "...Long time. Twenty years, maybe?"

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-nine."

"No kidding." You crack a wobbly smile, the burning sensation having slowly run its course through your poor, abused ankle. "We're not too far apart. So you grew up on a farm?"

"Kinda. Just helped out."

"Do you have cows?"

"Yeah. Chickens, too."

"You do?"

"When your ankle's better we'll go outside and feed them. You can ride one if you want, if you promise to be gentle with her."

"Mhm. Marnie likes giving rides–we can bribe her with some celery I've got." He speaks with a hand on your wrapped ankle, neither of you even really noticing the gesture until it dawns on both of you, and you break your shared gaze and the touch in somewhat flustered fashion. Yet, even though he sits like a golem above you with hands retracting back to his own lap, you still can't help the thought that he's just so…soft.

"Can I get you something to drink?" He stands up and off the couch in a swift motion, the remaining roll of gauze pinched in one giant hand along with the balm and the scissors. They look almost toy-like in his massive grasp, it's actually pretty cute.

"Or?"

"I don't really have anyone to check on me, honestly, and I live alone. Maybe…if it's okay, maybe I can stay? There's not even an elevator in my-"

"I'll try not to wake you up." You smile back at him, truly feeling the gratitude for his kindness, but he shakes his head.

"No, come wake me for anything. Even a glass of water–I don't want you walking down those stairs and getting hurt."

"You're really sweet, Harley."

"You haven't let me take a step on my own all day. You're really sweet, and really nice."

You can't help but think, however, as you shut off the lamp by the bedside and hunker down for a long night…it's just a little too cold for your liking.

"Harley?" Your whispers grow their confidence in the dark, the hem of the long shirt swishing around your thighs as you lean over the sleeping giant. "Harley, are you awake?"

"I-I'm sorry–" Your fingers clench at the sight of his bare chest, the skin soft-looking and riddled with the deep edges of healed scars. "-I can't sleep. The noise-"

"You too, Harley." Your head falls back against his arm, and it's only a matter of time before the warmth of his body heat and the comforting embrace of strong arms around you lulls you into a deep, dreamless sleep. The only thing you remember waking you up is a brief time between then and the sunrise, when your eyes flutter open and you feel Harley's presence has disappeared for a time. But once slumber grabs hold of you again and you vanish into the land of unconsciousness, the only thing that will cause you to stir is the distinct pitch of a rooster crowing from somewhere off in the yard, signalling the dawn of a new day that may very well be the start of the rest of your life.

#harley kunuk #harley x reader #harley kunuk x reader #gn!reader #yandereverse #fluff #ellie writes #7k

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