summary: you accidentally discover your long-time crush/sister's best friend is kid danger, who so happens to be obsessed with you, and now you're stuck.
warnings: platonic relationships, dark-ish, attempted sexual assault, (mild) violence, (mild) blood, henry's a bit possessive (mainly implied), bookworm!reader (implied), henry's more morally grey in this fic, yandere themes.
disclaimer: reader's slightly younger than the main trio at 17, whereas Charlotte, Henry, and jasper are 18. I just made Charlotte and y/n sisters for the fun of it.
not as dark as you'd think tbh, but I will probably make it worse as I continue writing for Henry danger.
for @herdarlin (hopefully you like it <3)
You and your sister Charlotte were pretty close, even as the two of you got older and were pretty different, somewhat. You, for an instance, had a lot of friends and was pretty social. Charlotte really only had three good friends, Jasper, Henry, and Piper. Not that it was a bad thing.
the one thing you two were pretty similar on was your intelligence. you both worked hard in school, got very good grades. You planned on studying abroad at some point, definitely out of Swellview.
You wanted to get out of Swellview in general.
Charlotte felt the same way. Unlike her you had a year left at high school. She was a senior. You were slightly jealous about that.
It was a little late at night and you sat at your desk, your nose in the textbook you were studying for the test.
You could hear some chatter in Charlotte’s room and now you’re curious. Has she snuck someone in? Henry, maybe? You used to tease her that she and Henry were dating, but it’s obvious now that they’re just friends.
You open your door to see Charlotte and Henry in her room. Her door's open, which is sort of stupid, because they're quite loud. It’s like they’re arguing about something.
“What’s my favorite married couple doing?” You ask and your sister jumped.
“Y/N, what are you doing in here? You’re not supposed to be up,” Charlotte groans.”And for the last time we’re-“
“Not dating, I know. It’s just hilarious to see the look on your face.”
Henry chuckled.”Your face is priceless, Char.” “Shut up,” Charlotte joked.”So why are you in here?”
“I heard some noises,” You say.”And anyway, Dad will kill you if he sees a boy in here. You normally don’t go against the rules.” “Exceptions are made and Y/N, please don’t tell,” She begs.
You smirk, this could be a good opportunity for blackmail."Admit that you and Henry are dating first." Henry laughed, and Charlotte wasn't amused at all.
"Well I can promise you we're not dating," He says."But trust me, people seem to think that a lot." Charlotte gives him a look."Remember why I even let you in my house, Henry. So you won't tell?"
"I won't, I was just teasing."
The two of you have always covered for each other, so you're just returning the favor, but something feels off right now. You can't explain it, but eventually, you will.
You didn't like admitting you've always had a crush on your sister's best friend, you have for years. At least since you were like twelve. You just never said anything.
You went back to studying, putting what happened out of focus.
For now.
You had almost caught them. You'd figure out the truth sooner or later. At school, you were by your locker when you hear that same annoying voice you dread hearing.
"Hey, gorgeous."
It's stupid Mitch, he knows you're not interesting in an asshole like him. Besides, he's a total creep. "Not interested," You snap."I admire you not giving up, though." "So..." He said.
"Leave her alone, Mitch. She doesn't want you."
You hadn't even noticed Henry was standing behind you, jaw clenched and clearly annoyed.
"And what will you do about it, Henry?" Mitch asked. You remember when Henry was smaller, now he's taller.
"Trust me, you don't want to find out, so let's just save the trouble and leave her alone, yeah?" He asks. "Henry, you don't have to help, I can handle myself," You said, but the tone was unsure. You knew damn well you couldn't.
Not with a guy who's physically more stronger than you.
"You heard her," Mitch replied."Besides, Hart, you can't-" He doesn't even get a second before he was punched right in the jaw. You stand there, shocked.
You thought at first he'd stop.
He didn’t. He continued on. "Henry!" You exclaim."Stop. That's enough." Jasper and Charlotte had to be the ones to pull him off of Mitch, who at that point, was near unconsciousness, blood was everywhere.
"Henry," Charlotte frowned."A word?" He sighs, but he follows her.
It was a red flag.
but, did Mitch not deserve it? you felt conflicted. Afterward, you're just... numb. It also seemed like Henry just wasn't around as much, which wasn't normal. You figured your sister said something, so you decide to be incredibly stupid and sneak into his window.
You had a huge crush on him, so what can you say?
You see Henry sitting on the bed, and you knock at the window, making him jump. He opens it, though. "What are you doing here?" "To talk to you, why else would I be at your window?" You reply.
"Well, it's not really the best time."
"No, I think it's the best time," You insist."We have to talk, anyway." He lets out a sigh."I guess." "What happened today? From all the years I've known you, You never lose your temper like that," You ask. He was pretty calm, that was admirable.
"I don't know," He admits."I guess... I was just mad, he's hit on you more than once, and he thought he could do it again." You smile."I appreciate it, Henry, I do, I just don't want you to lose control."
"It's hard not to with you."
You shouldn't have liked that as much as you did. "I get feeling stressed out and angry, but Mitch? He's just a creep, he's not important, and also, doesn't deserve your emotions," You reply.
"Jesus, you and Charlotte are pretty much the same."
You laugh."To an extent. We just both think logically. And I know you, too, Henry. You're... amazing. don't let one asshole determine that." "Yeah, you're right," He said."At least he's in the hospital, though."
You nod."I'm not sure if I'd count that as a good thing, but sure." He chuckles."Everything's just changing. I'm changing." You reply,"We all are."
"It's just complicated," Henry said."I want to stay away because I know it'll only hurt you in the end but I can't."
Now you're not sure what he means. "Henry, you don't have to," You say."I don't want you to. You mean a lot to me." This sounds like a lot of books that you've read, and you love them.
now, though, what are you supposed to do? just let him pull away and become a worse version of himself?
"I'll always protect you, Y/N. That's what scares me."
You hated walking at night.
But, alas, here you were. it wasn't safe at all, and you knew that, but you tried to be as careful as you could be. What had happened was you were working late at the bookstore, the job you loved, and you couldn't get a ride home so you had to walk home.
I'm never walking at night again, you thought. it had always been a risk.
But tonight, especially. You saw an alleyway, but decided not to go that way until you're pulled in.
“Let me go!” You exclaim. You had your pepper spray in your bag but he had ambushed you and you dropped your bag.
“How much money do you have?” The man sneers. “Not much, now let me go!” You exclaim. You aren’t an idiot, you don’t carry cash on you. And your card isn’t even your purse. You keep it safe at home.
"Hm, nothing? Well, at least your pretty face is worth something."
You scream and kick as he gropes you, his hands everywhere on you and you feel disgusted, you almost want to vomit. You feel so powerless, and maybe you are, but he's so much stronger and you normally, normally, are very much capable of taking care of yourself.
You close your eyes and prepare for the worst when you feel him being shoved away from you. You open your eyes and see Kid Danger, right there.
"Kid Danger?"
You blink, partly in shock, and the part of you that's a big fan wants to just squeal and tell everyone you saw him. "Are you okay?" He asks, helping you stand up.
"Mhm, physically, at least."
"See? I'll always protect you."
You stare, and it hits you suddenly. Kid Danger's Henry. Though, it's always been obvious, the mask doesn't hide much, but swellview isn't known for having geniuses.
"Oh my god, Henry!"
"Shh," He said, muttering under his breath," Shit." "Well, if you didn't want me to find out, don't say something I know you said," You say, crossing your arms.
You gasp when you look at the guy who assaulted you."Seriously?" "Hey, it's no big deal, he deserved it, anyway," Henry said, trying to justify the fact that he had pretty much killed the guy.
He was badly beaten, blood everywhere. His face? Unrecognizable. You don't feel sad, but you're horrified at what Henry had done, because He's Kid Danger, he's a hero, he's supposed to be one, anyway.
Now, you're not sure.
"I'm worried, Henry.." You frown."What's going on? Be honest, you can be, now." "Shit, Shit, Ray's going to kill me," He murmurred. "Um, what?" You say.
"I'm really sorry for this."
"Hm?"
Suddenly, you're stunned and knocked out. But when you do wake up, you realize VERY quickly that you're in an unfamiliar room, and not in your bedroom. But you can hear some talking, so there has to be other people.
You groan as you stumble a little, there's some bruises on your arm from that guy. The visual picture of what he looked like after Henry had nearly killed him to death was in your head, and it was disturbing.
"Oh hey..." Your sister said. "Charlotte! You knew?" You exclaimed. "Well, uh, yeah, but in his defense, I figured it out," She said. Then Jasper came out of the elevator with Piper, who freeze when they see you.
"Are you kidding me?"
"Why is Y/N here?" Jasper asked. "I could be asking you the same thing," You say."I just want to know what's going on! And why I've been left in the dark!"
"Because for one, we all made an oath, and two, it's safer that way," Charlotte explained."But it doesn't matter anyway. Let me guess, Henry slipped up?"
"Mhm. But it was kind of obvious this whole time, is everyone just blind?" You ask. "Eh..." They said in unison. "I guess I'm an idiot," You groan.
"The only idiot here is Jasper."
"Hey!"
"Am I wrong?"
You laugh."Thanks. Speaking of, where's Henry?" "Ray's lecturing him right now," Charlotte said."With Schwoz, apparently." You squint your eyes."I might need a little bit more context than that. Is Ray Captain Man?"
She nodded.
"And Schwoz is-?"
"A super genius who basically created all of this," Piper explained. "Great," You sigh, plopping down on the couch."Why was I brought here rather than the super comfortable house that I live in?"
"Because you may or may not be targeted by a supervillains,” Jasper blurted.
“WHAT?”
You are naturally both angry and shocked, and also afraid. Charlotte laughed nervously.”Jasper wasn’t supposed to say that.”
“Henry and Ray are dealing with it right now,” Jasper then continued.
“you weren’t supposed to say that either. But we also thought you might be unconscious for a little bit longer.”
You roll your eyes. Secrets, secrets, and even more secrets. "Well, okay, but I think now I'm owed the truth," You say. "You can be angry," Charlotte told you."But can you at least understand it was with good intention?"
"Yes," You say, calming down a bit."I know you'd never lie to me unless you had to. I'm just shocked Jasper's kept a secret this long." "Hey! I'm pretty good at keeping secrets," He defended."But, fair point. We really did just try and protect you. Especially Charlotte and Henry."
"I know, I just really want the truth now."
Charlotte sat down next to you and began explaining. It all just kind of happened. You quickly understood the situation. You still were somewhat angry but you at the same time calmed down and now felt a bit more graceful.
“Trust me, Henry was wanting to tell you for years, how can you not see that he’s in love with you?” Charlotte chuckled.
“What? I never saw it that way,” You admitted.”But I just thought he liked you.” Charlotte burst into laughter."That's never been the case at all! I think you just let your judgment get clouded. I mean, seriously!"
"Okay, you don't have to keep on judging," You laugh. "I'm not, just pointing out the obvious," She replied. "Okay, Okay," You snicker."When will Henry and Ray be back? I kind of want to talk to Henry, about... last night."
"Soon, hopefully," Piper commented."Although lately they've both been pretty tense." "Tell me about it," Charlotte commented."Anyway, Y/N, I wouldn't worry too much."
Except I should be, I saw what he could be like, You thought, but didn't say this out loud. he did save your life and you are thankful, but still, what the fuck was that?
Your emotions were all over the place right now. On one hand, you are grateful that you at least were given the truth and they didn't just lie even more, on the other hand, your crush is Kid Danger!
Well, it made sense now as you actually think about it.
His excuses never made much sense and an idiot could put two and two together eventually.
Suddenly, you see Henry and Ray come down from the tubes. That was cool, the technology in this place was fascinating, and pretty advanced for the modern times. Schwoz must really be a genius.
"Oh hey... Henry said, awkwardly. "We have to talk, right now," You insist, a bit more stern that you'd like but you weren't going to just sit around and avoid conflict forever.
"Right. It's long overdue."
"Someone's in trouble," Ray whispered, and a few of them chuckle. "Seriously, I just don't understand, you're giving me mixed signals, Henry!" You exclaim."I'm not mad as I should be about this, because a superhero has to keep secrets, but one minute I think you might like me, and then the next you actually don't."
You hated that he still made you feel this way, You just wish you could get over him, but you couldn't. The two of you had managed to sneak away so it was just you and him.
"I do like you, a lot, I just... can't, Y/N," He said."You don't understand. It's not a healthy feeling at all." "What are you talking about?" You asked. "I want you, and I thought for a while maybe it'd be better to just bury and bury, but I was just digging my own grave," He explained."You consume me."
That shouldn't flatter you, or make you feel some sort of way, but it does.
You want to say something.
"It's like I lose control when it comes to you, which is obviously shitty considering I'm Captain Man's sidekick," He groaned. "Henry, I'm not... mad," You say."I should be, I really fucking should be. No, I should be scared but I'm not."
"Then fuck it."
He kissed you, pulling you in and you can't help but kiss back, it's possessive and far from gentle, but the roughness is exactly what you craved, and you were once ashamed of it.
Warnings: this fic contains violence, age gap, noncon. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
18+ only, explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
You voted, I wrote it. This is June 14th’s fic! (It's late. Sorry)
Lloyd Hansen + “I just need you close to me.” (Medieval AU)
I welcome and appreciate all feedback. This means replies, reblogs, and asks. I do prefer if you can reblog and share my work along with your thoughts. <3
Restlessness stirs your skirts. You pace around your chambers, from canopy to fireplace to window. You stop at the last and peer out onto the blooms trimmed in perfect geometric patterns. You sway back and forth as a swell of unease chases at your heels.
You spin and hurry to the door. You poke your head out and find your usual guard, as vigilant as ever. Sir Lloyd looks at you from the corner of his eye, his nose cut in a stoic profile over his tufted mustache. His light armour clinks with his movement as his hand tightens on his pommel.
“Princess,” he intones flatly.
“Ah, you’re here.” You reply.
“As ever.” He states as a fact.
“Mm,” you hum. Ever since your father put you at the guard’s charge, you’ve felt a twinge of guilt. He isn’t the sort to find glory in watching over a naive princess. “And I am as ever grateful for your protection.”
His cheek dimples and brow arches. His eyes drift back to the opposite wall. You cannot blame him his resent.
“You require your lady maid, princess?” He asks.
“No. Unless, do you think?” You step out fully and touch the net over your hair. “Would a duke prefer my hair loose, sir?”
Sir Lloyd keeps his eyes on the stone. “I’ve sworn all the attention I might pay to lady’s tresses to your father. I fear I’m not much versed in braids and curls.” He looks at you again, once more without turning his head. “The net becomes you, however.”
“Ah, sir, you are silly.” You clap your hands. “No, I didn’t need Mercia. I only… I hoped to sneak away to the gardens. I thought some roses might be nice to receive the Duke.”
His eyes narrow and his armour rises and falls with his chest. “Princess.”
“You wouldn’t have to come. I’ll be quick.”
“You know that I must, princess.” His thumb rubs the metal ornament at the top of his pommel.
You pout and nod. He is correct. You are to go nowhere without company, least of all, his. You pity him the task of acting as your shadow. You suppose your days seem as folly to a knight and royal guard.
“I suppose then you might call Mercia and I would send her.” You resign.
He sighs again and tilts his head. “We will go, princess.”
Your smile beams and you bounce on your toes. “I must bring a basket. I will be quick, sir.”
You turn and leave the door open. You snatch up the woven basket with the twisted handle and shuffle back to the corridor. As you emerge, Sir Lloyd reaches to pull shut the door. You swing the basket in triumph.
“At your delight, princess.” He gestures with his gloved hand.
You stand taller and set off down the corridor. He walks just a step back. You can hear his armour and the hard soles of his boots.
“What colour do you think, sir?”
“A flower is a flower,” he harrumphs.
“No, not just a flower.” You trill. “Red is for love and charity. A kind colour. White would be innocence, and I suppose, heavenly. The purple would be too royal, would it not? Too pretentious? Or pink for grace and romance…”
He’s silent as he skirts around you. He goes down the first step of the staircase and offers his hand. You brace his wrist as you descend and he assures your balance. He makes a slow descent.
“And what should they mean if your father denies the betrothal, princess?”
“They will be something pretty to cheer me.” You shrug. “Father said he didn’t mind the Duke.”
“Your father has never met a person he did not mind. He will find fault in a child at play.” He scoffs. “With respect, princess.”
“No, you wouldn’t be untrue. My father is…elusively temperamental.” You drone as you come to the flat stone. “Perhaps then the flowers would be for me. A measure to calm my nerves as I wait anon.”
“You…” he begins but stops himself, as if thinking better of his thought. He continues. “You are anxious for your suitor, princess?”
You look at him over your shoulder. Servants rush to open the doors as you approach. “I am. It is kind of you to ask though… there are many troubles bigger than mine own.”
“Whatever troubles the princess is my duty to ward off.” He assures. “That is as your father bid.”
“And to you, I apologise. I’m certain you’d rather be ahorse or at least, have reason to draw your sword, sir.”
“I shouldn’t long for it for it would mean you are in danger.” He says as he follows you out into the sunshine.
You make your way to the gardens and delve into the hedges of intertwined thorns and petals. You see a blushing pink bloom and hurry forward to touch it. You feel along the stem and squeak as you pull your hand back.
Sir Lloyd approaches and opens his gloved hand. “Princess.”
You show him your pricked finger. The blood beads at the tip. He pinches, firm but gentle, and tuts.
“Do not touch. A duke would be appalled to see such fine fingers tortured.” He bids. “Point and I will cut whatever you like.”
“Oh, sir, thank you.”
You pull your hand from his and fix the basket over your other arm. “That pink one that bit me, sir.”
He gives you a look and you giggle. He slides a long dagger from his belt. You watch the metal and your eyes widen. You never paid much heed to the weapons he carried. They would never be used against you, thus you never worried.
He delicately slips his hand around the stem, careful not to disturb the petals, and he cuts through the thorns. He lays the rose in the basket as you hold it out.
“Pink, romance, you said, princess.”
“Or grace. Or heavenly perfection.” You muse. “But I only like the shade, sir. Don’t you?”
He turns to cut some more pink blooms. “I’ve not much of an eye for these things,” he holds up another rose, this one with white at the base of the petals and pink along the edges. He looks at you over it. “Though I can see beauty when it is in front of me.”
🌹
Compline rang out from the cathedral bells ages ago. It is late and you are just as restless as you’ve been much of the day. You are adrift somewhere between dusk and dawn. Alone.
The duke did not arrive. Not as they said he would. Has he turned back with doubt? Or has something worse befallen him? No, those things are only wives tales.
You sit against the headboard, still in your lilac gown, with the net still in your hair, and the chain around your neck bearing your mother’s bequeathed gem. Your slippers even remain on your feet as you wring your hands and wait. As the night wears on, so do you. Your head bobbles and dips.
A knock at the door gives you a start. The door opens and Mercia enters. The lantern flickers at your bedside. She gasps.
“Princess, you’ve not slept!” She decries.
You hush her. “Is there word of the duke?”
“Oh, Princess, you mustn’t worry so. You must be ready for when he does come. You will be dreary with fatigue–”
“Have you heard anything?” You plead with her.
“No, Princess. Nothing. I’ve only come as morning approaches.” She explains.
“Go then. I have no need of any but the duke.”
“Princess, perhaps some rose tea or–”
“Please, leave.”
She obeys. Your mind races with worry. Was it you? Or your father? He can be demanding and rather particular. Perhaps he saw the duke and turned him away…
Another knock comes before you can slump. You call for the visitor to enter. It is only Sir Lloyd. He does not enter often. Only with your father.
“Princess.” He greets. “The maid says you are unwell.”
“The maid lies.”
“You’ve not slept, princess.”
“So I’ve not,” you cross your arms. “And the duke has not come.”
Sir Lloyd stares at you. You shy away and look at your skirts. You huff.
“You should rest. It is my duty to see you safe and well. You will not be without sleep.”
“Sir. You needn’t worry so. Only keep the wretches out. That is your duty.”
He is quiet. He backs up and pulls the door with him. “So it is,” he utters before it closes entirely.
🌹
Your father enters without pretense. He is a king, he needs no welcome or permission. You sit at the window, in the same lilac gown as these last two days, with the same gnawing dread in your gut. Sir Lloyd stands at the door, hand on his pommel and shoulders straight.
“Daughter,” the king says in his cold tone. “We’ve news of your suitor. He will not be your husband.”
You gasp and stand. You nearly tip from exhaustion. “But why not? Where has he gone?”
“Slain. Dead in the dirt. Some bandits.” He says without compassion.
You put your hands to your cheek in horror. Sir Lloyd’s brow twitches slightly but otherwise, he is unbothered. Your father growls.
“Rather inconvenient. I tire of meeting these upstarts. All they do is recite their useless titles and praise a maiden they’ve never laid eyes on. I do not require love, I require money, lands. And now his shrew of a sister will hoard it for herself.” He throws his hands up. “Rats.”
He turns and stomps to the door. Sir Lloyd clears his throat. “And the bandits? Are they not a threat to other travellers? If they would assault a noble, what might keep them from the very same upon the royal person? The summer progress is not far away, your highness.”
Your father snorts. “Always my cleverest knight, Hansen.” He smacks his knuckles on the guard’s arm. “Go on then. Deal with the rabble. Make an example as you do.”
“Happily,” Sir Lloyd bows his head. “I will have Nikolai take my place here until I return.”
“If he isn’t sober, let me suggest Geralt.” Your father retorts before he strides out.
You stand, stunned. You back up and sit on the window seat. You hang your head.
“Dead?” You whisper.
“Princess,” Sir Lloyd says. “I will avenge your suitor. In your honour.”
“Death and more death,” you turn onto your side and crumple up. “I thought… I hoped…”
You close your eyes and hug yourself. You hear the guard come close, sense him even. Almost as if his fingers hover right above your cheek. He exhales.
“I will have Mercia bring you some lemon water and milk. You must calm. Sleep, princess. I will not be long in my justice.”
🌹
You languish in bed, defeated by fate. How many times must this charade be played out. The first lord your father chose was too short and squat. The second made a bad jape and nearly got the axe. The third complimented and earl your father despised. The fourth and the fifth annoyed him for no particular reason. Now the sixth has perished to some forest-infesting scoundrels.
Mercia brings you meals you do not touch and says words you do not hear. You are a princess. You are meant to marry a fine man; to love him; to be cherished. You long as any does to be wanted. For once in your life…
It is night. The window lets in a night breeze to soothe the stagnant air. There are voices in the hall. You perk up at the familiarity of the latter tone. Footsteps trod away.
A gentle tap comes at the door. You do not move. Slowly, the hinges groan.
“Princess,” Sir Lloyd’s shadow stands at the wall.
“Good knight, you’ve returned.” You say without rising.
“So I have. Victorious. The beast that slew the young duke have been dealt with.”
You sit up as your fatigue slakes away. “You…”
“By my hand. In your name.” He assures.
“I… but the duke is dead, still.”
He exhales loudly. He closes the door, from the inside. You turn your legs over the side of the bed and fumble to strike flint to light the lantern. He nears and takes it from you, doing it himself. He smells like iron.
“Sir?”
“I’ve ridden all night to be sure I could be here. That I could protect you from heels such as those I’ve seen off to their fates.” He sneers as he backs up.
You look up at him. There is a dent in his shoulder armour and a reddened patch on his cheekbone. You rise and lift the lantern. You follow him as he strides to the window.
“Sir, you’ve been injured?”
“I’ve had worse.” He stares out at the night.
You bring the lantern closer to see him better and he turns away. There’s something amiss. He has changed. He moves in a prowl as he considers the room. He pauses to touch the wilting flowers in the pot on the table. The ones he cut for you. He bends to smell them.
He stands and snickers. “The very purse I filled are now on my own belt.”
You stare at him and set the lantern down on the other side of the pot. “What do you mean, sir?”
“It is ironic to think, men as me, are paid to wield death upon others and it is called honour. Others are paid for the same and deemed criminals.” He scoffs. “I suppose it is all in who is felled and who is paying.”
You frown. Your chest flutters and your mind swims. You don’t understand.
“Sir, your words confound me.”
He bends forward and flattens his palms on the table. He hangs his head and lingers like that as you listen to his breath. He inhales deeply and stands at full height. You never noticed before how fearsome and gargantuan he is. There is blood upon his armour still, it catches the flame’s flicker.
“Your father bid me protect you and it is what I’ve done.” He says.
“Sir?”
He walks around the table and you turn to him. He stands before you. He looks down at his hands and brings them up next to your arms. He shudders.
“The duke was better dying on the road. It would not be right to slay him on his wedding night.” He drawls as he closes his hands around your arms and drags them up. You shiver.
“What…. You don’t mean? You…”
“I did my duty. I protected you. I kept you from some spoiled duke who would not care for you as I do.”
“Sir? You cannot– you jape. You play with my wits.”
“Darling princess, I am sworn to do all and anything for you. To my spirit.” He brings his hands up to the sides of your neck. “My only desire is to have you safe.” He leans down and presses his lips to your forehead. You quiver as your eyes crest with hot tears. “I just need you close to me… and he would’ve taken you away.”
Your pathetic snail boyfriend who makes everyone around you nervous and uncomfortable because he's always stalking and following you with those bulging eyes and excessively nervous attitude that your friends describe as a "creepy weirdo"
The poor thing is completely obsessed with you. I can't believe that a goddess like you would agree to be the girlfriend of someone as pathetic as him. That's why he wants to get you pregnant so badly, so you'll never be able to leave him. He would make you so happy... he would be the best father, lover, and husband. He would take care of everything, he would be your slave throughout your pregnancy, for your entire life...
Pathetic snail boyfriend who loses his mind when he sees you walking around his room in those short sweatpants that fit your ass perfectly. Why is your ass so sexy? He ends up clinging to you to hide the huge erection in his pants. He smells your hair, his penis throbs against your ass, his skin gets incredibly sticky and slimy, which makes you scold him, though you don't push him away...
Surely that means you want him to fill you with his eggs... right?
Warnings: this fic will include dark content and possible untagged elements such as noncon. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
You voted, I wrote it. This is June 3rd’s fic!
Nick Fowler + “Why don’t you try it and see what happens.”
I welcome and appreciate all feedback. This means replies, reblogs, and asks. I do prefer if you can reblog and share my work along with your thoughts. <3
Please check my pinned post for more information on my blog, stories, and asks!
Do one kind thing for yourself today and take care.💖
The tray balance on-top of two others leans dangerously. You angle with it to keep from disaster. You search for a place to put down the stack of coffee cups amid the agents sat around the tables and the devices and empty cups across the top.
No one notices you as they focus on the large screens and give directives. You go through the cups marked by balance of sugar and dairy. Jensen takes three sugar and three cream, Everett takes his black with a shot of espresso, and Barnes takes his with a single dash of milk. You cycle through the menial tasks of doling out caffeine. The last is Fowler. Plain black. Simple.
He focuses on the screen as the hazy noise of music rises from the speakers. There's a silence among the agents as they intently observe what's going. You don't dare look. Your credentials allow you to do the coffee runs and grunt work. You don't see any you aren't seen.
"We need to get in there..." Everett growls.
"No shit," Barnes retorts.
The two men scowl at each other. Jensen inhales nervously and Fowler sits back as he notices the freshly renewed cup. You clean up the empties as the agents fester in frustration.
"The woman." Fowler says and pauses to lick away a droplet of coffee from his lip. "That's the in."
"And what do you propose? This isn't your Tinder profile--" Barnes chides.
Fowler scoffs. "Jealous?" He sets his cup down and taps the side. "That's not what I mean but you know it's probably the easiest way in..."
Everett rolls his eyes and the other men groan. Fowler arches a brow and looks around as you drop the empty cups into the bin. The hollow clatter draws his attention. His cheek dimples.
"Mace is too old. Walker likes them young, doesn't he? All the other agents look like moms or worse, widows."
"Charming," Jensen comments.
"More than you, pal. Tell us again how Willa shot you down." Fowler rebuffs. Jensen sinks down.
You head for the door and something taps the table.
Your name stops you short. You nearly let out a squeak. You didn't think any of them knew it. You typically respond to the call of "intern" or snapping fingers.
You turn slowly. "Sir, is it the coffee?"
"Come here." He ignores your offer for a second run.
You glance around, wilting beneath the gazes of seniority. You cross the room, playing mindlessly with the security badge clipped to your belt, and approach Fowler. He spins his finger as you near.
“Spin.” He stands.
You take a step back but obey. You face the other agents and squirm. Fowler grabs your blouse at the sides and pulls it taut around your middle. You look down as your eyes round.
“Huh?” You utter.
“How old are you, sweetheart?” He asks.
You blink and shrug. You’re so confused and embarrassed you can barely think of the number. “Twenty-three, sir.”
“Bout the same age as Walker’s plaything.”
“Fowler, what are you on about?” Barnes crosses his arms and leans back, leg swaying.
“I know I’m the only one who can pull it off,” Fowler steps up beside you and slings his arm around your waist. You chafe and clasp your wrist to keep from collapsing. His other hand comes up to slide off your glasses. “Pop in some contacts, get some gloss on those lips,” he pokes your mouth with the end of the your glasses’ arm, “short dress…”
“She’s a goddamn intern,” Everett argues.
“Which means she’ll be believable as the mindless bimbo on my arm.” Fowler chuckles.
“Um, sir…” you protest weakly.
“Relax, honey. It comes with a pay raise.” He squeezes your side. “Besides, you’re young. Live a little.”
“The director’s never going to bite,” Everett snorts.
“Really? Maybe if you ask but she likes me.” Fowler folds up your glasses and hooks them over his jacket pocket. His arm slowly drags from around you. “We need to get in and we’re not gonna waltz in smelling of fuzz. So… she’s our way. Get in with the girlfriend or whatever.”
You sniff and frown.
“She’s gonna blow it. Look at her.” Barnes shakes his head.
“I got time to train her up right,” Fowler grins as he grips his hips. “Boys, how many times have I got shit done? Whole lot more than any of you.”
“If you exclude Barcelona,” Everett sneers.
“And Capetown.” Barnes adds.
You look around. “Um…”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Leave it to me.” Fowler turns and taps the tip of your nose. “I’ll get your clearance… and a stylist.” He saunters back and sits down. He lifts his coffee and you wring your hands.
“Uh, sir, my glasses…” You eke out.
He smirks. “Get rid of them.” He slides them off his pocket and holds them out. You take them and nod. “Good girl.”
👄
As much as your reticence keeps you in the background, it can just as easily get you into trouble. Your passiveness is hardly a defense to someone like Fowler. When he says something, he has no question that it will be heard. When he makes a decision, there’s not a single doubt that it’s what will happen.
It all goes by in a terrible whirlwind that leaves you breathless. You’re disoriented as you find yourself in a hotel room staring at a dress with too many straps. You cross your arms tightly as you chew your lip.
A soft noise brings your eyes up to the mirror to your right. Past the reflection of your new haircut and perfectly glowy face, you watch Fowler strap on his shoulder holster. Your nerves roil in your chest and you fidget. You look back to the dress and touch the glimmery fabric.
“Just follow my lead,” he says, for what would be the dozenth time. “We’ve gone over this.”
“Yes, sir.” You bring your thumb up to bite.
“No. No, sirs. I’m Tate and you’re Arielle. Remember the briefing.” He commands.
You flinch and look at him. “Sorry, I’m… I’m nervous.”
“Don’t be. I got you.” He assures as he slides his gun into his holster.
You look down again. You pick up the dress and hide in the bathroom. You change into the tight fit and face your reflection. You look ridiculous. All you can see is cleavage and thigh.
“Arielle, honey,” Fowler calls to you as the low hum of music comes from the suite. “Can’t hide all night.”
You sigh and close your eyes. You gather what courage you have and go back out. Fowler has his jacket on as he skips the track on his phone. A slow R&B groove plays as you sit and pull on the too high shoes.
“Come on,” He beckons to you.
“What?” You stare at him. “I can’t dance.”
““Why don’t you try it and see what happens. Gotta make it believable.”
“Er… I don’t know.” You struggle to stand but gain your balance. Despite practicing in heels for weeks, you’re still unsteady.
“Don’t know how to dance? Jeez, honey, you’re too damn young not to do anything.” He nears and grabs your hand. He pulls you against him. “Just feel the music.
“Sir– Tate.” You babble.
“Like this.” He grips your hip and presses your pelvis into him, guiding your arm over his other shoulder. “Close, sway with me.”
You could melt as his warmth clouds around you and the scent of his cologne fills your nose. You mimic him as best you can, falling into the rhythm. He squeezes your hip, fingers stretching onto the cushion of your rear. He growls and inhales along your hair. His nose traces your forehead.
“Like that, good girl.” He coaxes as he moves you with him. “Pull your hand down, touch my chest.” He directs. You obey and feel his muscle through the layers. His collar is undone and shows off the top of his muscled chest. “Is that so hard?” He asks.
“Um… no, it’s… it’s okay,” you say.
“Well…” He moves his hand across the back of your skirt. “I know I am.”
He chuckles and kisses your forehead. You wince and push on his chest. Does he mean what you think? He snickers and squeezes your ass before he lets go.
“Gotta get used to it, honey,” he rubs his fingertips with his thumb. “Gonna have to play this out. Make it believable.”
“I know, I’m trying…”
“You can do it, sweetheart, I know you can.” He tugs on the top of his belt and turns, shifting as if to adjust his pants. “You know, it doesn’t all have to be work.” He grabs his phone and stops the music. “A little play never hurt anyone.”
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon and coercion and possible untagged elements such as noncon. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
You voted, I wrote it. This is June 2nd’s fic!
Lee Bodecker + “Just relax and it will be so much easier."
I welcome and appreciate all feedback. This means replies, reblogs, and asks. I do prefer if you can reblog and share my work along with your thoughts. <3
Please check my pinned post for more information on my blog, stories, and asks!
Do one kind thing for yourself today and take care.💖
Hopper gives you lift across town. You barely hear him chattering about his jumpy engine or the no good youngins as they stand on the corner. You're too fraught over what's behind you and what awaits you.
You thank him as you get out, promising him some eggs from the hen the next time she lays. He says it's no worry. You head down the street as dread scales up your spine.
You sigh and stare at the metal star hammered onto the wood sign. The sheriff's office is one of the few buildings that isn't ramshackle and leaning. And it is unfortunately not so unfamiliar to you.
You hitch your hand bag from your elbow to your shoulder and scurry forward. Your hands shake as you balance the baking dish, the smell of cinnamon and blueberry wafting up. All it does is curdle your stomach.
As you enter, you greet Carrington, a junior officer sitting by a metal fan and sweating. You know him from the days he used to play with your son, Dale. It's too bad they didn't stick together.
"Cary," you greet him out of habit, then correct yourself. "Private."
"Ma'am," he dabs his pale forehead wothia handkerchief.
You give soft smile, nerves tied up in your cheeks.
"How much this time?" You ask as you clutch the dish tighter.
"Ain't got no bond yet." Carrington explains as his eyes dip down to ridged white porcelain.
You nod and your lips straighten. "What was it this time?"
"Ah, Mrs...." A drawl answers your question.
The sheriff appears behind the private, sauntering up with a coffee in hand. He stops by Carrington and pats his shoulder. "Ain't I tell ya to let me know when she got here?"
"Sir, she just--"
"Ain't no thing." Sheriff Bodecker tuts and slurps from his cup. "What we got today?"
You look down at the baking dish. "Blueberry crumble with a buttered crust, Sheriff."
"Always so sweet," he purrs and tosses the empty paper cup on the bin under the front desk. "Ya come back. There's talkin' to be done.”
“Alright, Sheriff.”
Carrington gets up to lift the door between the front and back of the sheriff’s office. He lets you through with a ‘nice ta see ya ‘gain, ma’am.’ Sheriff Bodecker waves you on with his arm and leads you from the side, walking so close his sleeve brushes yours and your wide hip presses against him briefly.
“You sure do know how to soften a man,” he reaches over to peek under the cloth over the dessert in your hands. “Too bad the mister up and ran like that on ya.”
“You know, I barely remember what his voice sounds like at this point.” You scoff.
“Mm, yeah. You’re a good mother. Specially to a boy like the one you got.” He stops to open his door. You hesitate. “Missus,” he leans in. “I figure this conversation is best done privately.”
“Oh,” you blink in alarm. “Is Dale okay? Is he hurt?”
“Now let’s talk. Just you and me,” he nudges you gently.
You nod and swallow. You step into his office and he follows, closing the door behind you. He twists the small plastic rod to close the blinds then turns to you.
“Please, make yourself comfortable.” He insists.
You set the pie dish on his desk and rub your palms together. You shift on your low heels then make yourself sit. He paces as you stare at the files stacked on his desk.
“I know how hard you been tryin’ with the boy and for so long.” He intones.
“Oh, Sheriff, what did he do this time? Is it bad? Is anyone hurt?”
“Ah, ya see. You’re such a sweet woman. Minding everyone but yerself.” He rounds his desk and faces you. He leans on hand on the edge and reaches to slide the crumble across. “Your boy’s well past grown by now.” He tugs the cloth off the dish and sucks his teeth. “He needs to take care of himself. Ya know, one day someone’s gonna get him that don’t like home baking so much as me.”
“I’m sorry, Sheriff. I’m trying. I really am. I got him that job down at the hospital. I check in on him on my shifts, ‘tween folding sheets but… I don’t know.” You lean forward, clutching your handbag in your lap.
“How long we known each other, huh? You call me Lee.” He says.
“Sir, I… Lee,” you snivel. “I promise, it won’t happen again.”
“How many times have you said that to me?” He challenges with a tilt of his head. His thick fingers trace the edge of the dish.
“Too many,” you mope and sit back and defeat. “How long do ya think he’ll get?”
“Mm, now, we ain’t beyond bargaining,” he looks down at the pie. “Thing is…” He pushes his fingers through the crumbled top and down into the berry filling. “Pies and tarts and gonna pay his bond no more.” He moves his fingers up and down, coating them in the blue juice and jam. “Man gets hungry for more’n that.”
He pulls his fingers out completely and lifts them. He watches you as raises them in front of his mouth and sticks out his wide tongue. He licks the berry off slowly and pushes his fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean. The whole time, his eyes are on you.
You squirm and hug your purse tighter.
“I don’t got much from workin’ down the laundries, but Edwina said I could help in the field–”
“Mm mm,” he hums and licks his lips. “Money ain’t do much. I got ‘nough. You know, Howard Hewitt pays me ‘nough not to go in his shed.”
He chuckles and stands straight. He puts his hands on his hips and looks down. You follow his gaze down his stomach to the front of his khaki pants. The tenting is obvious as he wiggles his pelvis. You gasp.
“Sheriff.”
“Lee,” he insists as he grabs the back of his chair and rolls it out. He lowers himself down and sits with a sigh. He drapes his arms over the wooden rests. “Even with your hips, you can fit underneath.” He taps his toe under the desk.
“You can’t…”
“How long since you touched a man?” He asks.
You look down, lip trembling. “You can’t mean it, sir.”
“Why? Ya still a woman. Still got a pretty face, a pretty mouth.”
You wince and peek up at him. He runs his hand down his tie and smirks. “You love your son, don’t ya?”
You bat your lashes and nod, “of course.”
“And you’ll do anything for him?”
“I would,” you whisper.
“Then do it.” He demands.
You flinch. You sniff and look down. You grip the purse tight and slowly lift it. You shake as you stand and turn to put it on the empty seat.
The sheriff hums again. “That’s a nice skirt on ya.”
You close your eyes as your body goes rigid. “Thank you, sir.”
He clears his throat.
“Lee,” you correct yourself.
“Mmm, good girl.” He praises.
You shudder. You don’t think even in your youth anyone called you that. You keep your head down and turn with stiff shoulders. You near him cautiously. He rolls his chair back slightly and swivels to you.
He stops you with his hands on your waist. You quiver. He squeezes your soft sides and his thumbs press into the pillow of your stomach.
“You got a lot to offer a man,” he drags his hands up to your chest. “A lot…” he gropes you. “Unbutton your shirt.”
You keep your eyes down as tears tingle along the brims. You start at the top and pick free each button. You reveal the faded silk bra underneath. Your nipples poke at the seams.
“Woah, now… you do got a nice set on ya.”
He bounces your tits in his large hands. You close your eyes and shiver. His thumbs hook around the edges and pull the cups under your chest. He hooks his hand around your back and guides you to bend. He takes a nipple in his mouth and you gasp. He teases with his tongue and sucks. He pops his lips off.
“Tastes as good as your baking.” He growls and teeths your flesh.
Your body locks up as you swallow down your fear and shame. You open your eyes as you hear the chair creak. He sits back and purrs.
“Alright, you don’t touch a thing. You leave yourself just as you is and you get to work.” He reclines and puts his hands behind his head. “I know it’s been a long time but you don’t forget how.”
You brace the desk to keep yourself steady. You get down, one knee at a time. You stare at the khaki along his calves. He pushes his legs wide.
“Undo me. I’m startin’ to hurt real bad.” He commands.
You get closer and reach for his belt. His large stomach rises and falls with a gritty breath. You unbuckle his belt, fumbling to get it apart.
“Just relax and it will be so much easier.” He drawls as he reaches to pet your head.
You don’t look up. You can’t. You’re burning up in a pool of humiliation. You open his fly and stop to shake the tremble from your hands. It has been a very long time and your husband when he was around was never patient.
He lifts himself and helps you get his pants down. Then you roll down the elastic of his briefs and his dick springs free. You let go as he lowers himself back to the seat and you gasp. He chuckles as your eyes round. He’s a lot thicker than your husband. Longer too.
His length is lined with veins and twitching as you stare dumbly. He moves it with just a flex of his muscles and your lashes flutter. You lick your dry lips.
“All these times you brought me something sweet to eat and I never offered to feed ya, huh?” He leans forward and takes your head between his large hands. “Well, I got more’n enough to fill ya up, honey.”
