#a gun would solve this issue

[emlos]

im so fucking conflicted man, like this is making me cry

[nyssasorbit]

.

[pedgito]

𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐘 | Joel Miller x reader

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summary | you've got an issue and joel's willing to solve it. after all, what are neighbors for?

author's note | this was a prompt from a meet-weird thing i saw ages ago that was originally supposed to be javi, but jo (@undercoverpena) gave me the beautiful idea of making it joel and it spurred this monster.

content warning | established friendship, caught during sex, does the apocalypse having working appliances? probably not, but for the sake of this fic distend belief i beg. oral (eating out from the back), unprotected piv, subtly cocky!joel miller, he's a good ass neighbor, okay?, unbeta'd.

word count — 5.6k

Joel’s fixed this damn machine seven times, convincing himself every time that it was the last time. Shocker, it wasn’t. This time didn’t even last a month. He’s desperate now.

He would usually haul the load all the way to the communal laundry house closer to the group of joined townhomes that housed most of the younger adults—the spry and bright-faced ones who sprung up at the mention of patrol or work, any prospect of toting a gun around with any sense of leadership. They were eager, he couldn’t say the same for himself.

He was old, weathered—years of routine he had created to get the job done and get the hell home.

And truthfully, as he tapped the wrench against the metal machine, chin tucked into his palm as he scratched at his beard, he almost complied with the idea that he would just have to tough it out. Scrounging for parts was nearly impossible—dumb luck, really. In the past several years they’ve picked this town clean, bone-dry.

He’s elbow deep inside the barrel of the dryer when he hears the knock at his door, bumping his head against the rim of it as he exits and cursing under his breath as he pushes to stand, joints creaking and popping in disapproval. 

He can smell you before he sees you, the familiar scent of fresh-baked goods following you everywhere—Joel couldn’t feel guilt for being one of the folks addicted to your cooking. 

Grains had been hard to come by since the epidemic hit, everything was tainted on a global level. It took years and years of Jackson growing its own stock of wheat for things like pie or a nice, gooey cinnamon roll to even be plausible anymore. But, they were managing well so far.

“Saved ‘em for you and Ellie,” You tell him, a small plate of still hot brownies covered with parchment paper, dawning that trademark smile that Joel has come to love, tapping his fingers against the door frame as he passes the plate off to a quickly approaching Ellie.

“Girl’s got the nose of a basset hound,” Joel looks on in amused bewilderment as Ellie throws a mouth-stuffed thanks over her shoulder, “sorry ‘bout her.”

You wave her off whole-heartedly, taking in his sweaty appearance and casual attire. You were used to him in jeans and thick flannels, not a graphic tee and pair of sleep pants. He’s almost always dressed like he had to run at a moment's notice, you weren’t even sure he owned anything different until now.

“Everything good?” You question him, a small laugh escaping your throat.

“Damn washer and dryer is out again,” Joel explains, throwing a hand vaguely over his shoulder.

“Both of them this time?” You ask, “Damn.”

“I can fix ‘em, just a matter of finding the right parts,” Joel tells you, “ looks like I’m gonna have to hand wash again.”

Joel was a friend. You helped friends. It seemed like a no-brainer really, opening your mouth without thinking it through, the kindness tumbling out despite yourself.

“Oh, you’re welcome to load yours up at mine,” You offer and Joel looks immediately apprehensive, the southern charm and well-mannered tone gearing to creep up on you.

“Now, I don’t mean to make you feel like you have to—”

“Joel, I wouldn’t offer it if I didn’t feel comfortable with it,” You remind him, “seriously—anytime, just try and bring your own detergent—and for the love of god, empty your pockets before you put ‘em in.”

Joel chuckles tiredly at that, rolling his eyes as he nods in agreement.

“Got it, of course, sweetheart.”

“I leave an extra key under the rug, so if I’m ever not home just come in,” Given that Joel was Tommy’s brother, you knew he wouldn’t be up to any trouble, “sound good?”

“Yep. Anytime—just make myself at home.” Joel confirms and you nod with an even wider smile, waving a pleasant goodbye as you trailed down the stairs and made your way to the house you inhabited next door.

Right, anytime.

Unfortunately, Joel took that a little too literally.

-

Joel managed to scrounge up the courage a day later, tumbling into his house on tired legs after a lengthy patrol up at the cabin lookout, scooping the basket up in his arms and heading out his front door, taking the short walk to your house.

The lights were off, but that wasn’t unusual. Joel knew you liked to stay late nights in the town’s mess hall, often working on prep for the following morning to make the load a little lighter and sleep in a while longer, so when he fishes under the doormat for the key he thinks nothing of it.

And as the door swings open, it is still fairly quiet. Though, he can hear your own dryer running upstairs. He’s got the layout down too, having shared more than a few nightcaps with you. Friend to friend and nothing more, even if you had always felt a little more strongly toward being affectionate. A hug or a kiss on the cheek from time to time, he never pushed you away. Joel never seemed like the type of man who openly showed affection, even toward a friend. But, he was good, reliable–most of the time.

He reaches the stairs with trepidation as the sounds grow louder and part of him wonders if by some uncanny coincidence your dryer might be growling and rumbling on its own final leg. 

The moment his hand reaches that doorknob and turns he realizes he’s made a mistake.

He’s caught you at a…bad time. Head thrown back with your mouth hung wide, whatever noise you’re making was mostly drowned out by the nagging sound of the dryer as it tore through the spin cycle but he hears the tailend of it, a soft moan of pleasure from the man who’s buried inside of you right now, both of you naked from the waist down but your breasts on full display with your shirt tucked under your neck.

“Benny?” Joel asks, slightly amused.

You lift your head at the sound and spot him, your feet nearly slipping out from under you as you scramble to push Benny away, who perks with an even more perplexed, “Joel?”

“Goddamn it, Joel,” You curse behind gritted teeth, furiously readjusting yourself, pulling your sweats back on and over your ass and your shirt down, “What are you doing here?”

Joel looks down at the basket still clinging to his hip before back up at you, wordlessly.

You sigh through your nose with a tight lipped frown, cheeks puffing out as you brushed your fingers through your hair and down—Benny was still scrambling to redress behind you, unable to pull his gaze away from Joel.

“Benny?” Joel mouths at you quietly, eyebrows raised curiously.

You walk toward the now open door slowly as Benny buttons his pants and you shoot Joel daggers with your stern gaze.

Cut it out.

Joel smirks slightly, cheek dimpling with the action as he side-steps Benny, who leans around you and kisses your cheek—it was a kind gesture but given the situation, in horrible taste. You force a polite smile and once Benny is a far enough distance you hit Joel firmly in the arm as he passes by you and into the laundry room.

You walk Benny to the door with a million thoughts racing through your head, offering a distracted goodbye before you’re locking the door and racing back upstairs with determined footsteps and Joel has already loaded his clothes in the washer, turning the knob to set the load size and time.

“Benny?” He echoes his earlier questions, “Really?”

“What? Are you judging me?”

“No—just, that kid’s had quite an obsession with you for some time now. Just…surprised is all.”

Your lips pull together in a disapproving but nonchalant frown, taking his words for the bullshit they are.

“When I said anytime that did not extend to the middle of the night, Joel.”

“You’re usually still at work,” He supplies—and really, he’s not wrong, “M’sorry. I mean that.”

“Well, now I’ve gotta deal with the fact you’ve seen me naked,” You cross your arms over your chest and lean against the doorframe and Joel’s eyes track you for a moment, smiling with amusement at the thought.

“What? You want a fair trade?” Joel teases, “‘Cause, darlin’. I don’t mind—but it was an accident. Besides, ain’t nothin’ I haven’t seen before.”

He means it in a broader sense, but you can’t help the eye roll it induces. 

“No, no,” You chew at your bottom lip, watching Joel place the empty basket on top of the washer, “I can finish that up if you want to get some sleep. I know you had a long patrol today.”

“Oh, did you?”

He’s teasing you.

“Don’t push it, old man,” Joel shakes his head at that jab and chuckles, “Ellie clued me in when she picked up some sandwiches for her and Dina earlier.

He’s not going to pass on the offer, though. He nods, rubbing a hand over his tired face.

“Jesus—just…Benny?” Joel reiterates again, “Didn’t think the kid had it in ‘em.”

“Out,” You say with an over-pronunciation as you drag his slow and progressive steps further out of your laundry room and into the hall, “or you’re off my dessert list for a month, Miller.”

Joel smiles at you knowingly, “You wouldn’t dare,” He retorts, knowing you too well.

You wouldn’t make him suffer like that. Or Ellie, who wouldn’t hesitate to murder Joel if he robbed her of that pleasure. Not literally…but, she would carry a few choice words for him.

“Seriously, though, thank you,” He nods, leaning down to press a kiss into the crown of your head—an often familiar gesture when you parted after a long night of nonsensical talk and a couple glasses of wine or whiskey, depending on how hard the day had been, “I appreciate it, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, yeah—”

“And I do apologize for…not knocking and showin’ up at such a weird time.”

You shrug, “You’re forgiven. Just…don’t give Benny a hard time. He’s a good guy.”

“You’ve got my word, darlin’.”

Joel was determined to be on his best behavior, clearly.

-

It takes Joel a couple weeks to find the parts he needs and luckily there are no more run-ins on your midnight sex-scapades, still feeling the embarrassment from the first one. Joel doesn’t even seem to remember it after a couple days, thankfully. He was bypassing it for your own benefit, truthfully. And you knew that.

Selfishly, you're glad to have your appliances back to yourself. 

They’re good, solid, reliable—until they aren’t.

Your washer shits itself mid-load and you can hear it from downstairs. A loud screeching noise before an even louder pop that has you groaning loudly because you know. You can feel it.

You can’t even bring yourself to go check, peering through the window of your kitchen and catching a fresh pot of coffee in the house across from yours, a man coming into view and his stark white shirt contrasting the black coffee cup in his hands. He catches you out of the corner of his eye and looks at you with a quizzical amusement, smile tugging at his face.

Joel was always up before the sun rose, so with the sun just creeping into the sky you’re sure that’s his third or fourth cup of coffee. He reaches over his sink and fiddles with the latch on his window before heaving it up, watching as you struggled to do that same but eventually managed.

“You run outta coffee again?” He asks, sipping at the bitter, black coffee in his mug.

“No,” You reply quickly, slightly exasperated as you chew at your bottom lip, debating how to pop the question and feeling nervous under Joel’s intense gaze, curiously wondering if he’s still picturing you naked. He’s never explicitly mentioned it since, but you have caught him in the act.

Wandering eyes, gazes catching when your back is turned for half a second as you bend down or move in a way that exposes too much skin.

“My washer broke,” You cut to the chase and Joel chuckles at how comical it is, in hindsight.

Was this karma? It was definitely karma. 

You’ve never asked Joel for anything—despite your often bouts of kindness toward him you never expected anything in return, not even a favor.

“Doors open,” Joel nods toward his front door out of view, an invitation like you offered him.

You didn’t even hesitate, pushing the window close and bounding up the stairs.

-

You’re already loading your things into his washer before he appears around the corner, peeking his head in, coffee cup still in hand as he takes a few more steps and leans against the wall beside the washing machine and your eyes glance at him briefly before you continue moving the clothes, watching him watch you from behind the rim of his mug.

“I can start them and come back,” You tell him, “so I won’t be lingering around here all day.”

“No Benny?”

You stand up as you close the washer, deadpan stare pointed in his direction.

“You can be such a nosy neighbor, you know that?”

Joel shrugs, a smug smile covered behind his sip of coffee.

“It was just a few times. Besides he’s…too much for me.”

You turn the dial to start the load and it rumbles to life with a simple press of a button.

“You wanna talk about it?”

It wasn’t completely unnatural for you two—you knew quite a bit about Joel now: his life before, his work, his daughter…all things that come with trust and time. He’s waited patiently for you and you’ve given him peeks into your life, but nothing like this.

“It’s a long story, Joel.”

“Got time,” He smiles slightly, “I’ll go grab you a cup of coffee—sit down.”

You look around briefly, not a chair in sight. So, you raise yourself up just enough that you can slide your ass over the top of the washer, bare feet dangling off the floor and you wait, the subtle and quiet shake from the beginning of the load process keeping the awkward silence at bay.

Joel turns the corner a few minutes later with your cup, made up just to your liking and you nod with a gentle smile, taking the cup from his hand and allowing yourself a few generous sips.

“So—that night, you caught us,” You can laugh at the instances now, so you do in a soft, clipped manner, “it wasn’t the first—it had been a month by that point and he just caught me by surprise, showed up that night and things just got a little out of hand.”

Joel’s eyebrows raise in interest but he urges you to continue, leaning against the wall in front of you now, resting his mug on the shelf just above his head as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“He’s a good guy, don’t get me wrong—but I don’t do serious…I can’t, now with how things are. And I know a lot of people think the opposite, seize the moment and all that shit,” You sigh, a deep and heavy sound that expands and releases from your chest, “he was already talking about moving in, the idea of us having kids—so that night I just tried to distract him.”

“With sex? Seems a little…counter-productive, don’t you think?”

“Don’t judge me, Joel,” You warn him but it’s edged with a playfulness that Joel recognizes. You didn’t have a mean, deceptive bone in your body and Joel knew that from the first conversation he had with you.

“I needed him to shut up,” You groan at the thought of the conversation as it replays in your mind, “I’m trying to wash my clothes, he’s talking to me about babies. I do not want kids, Joel. Ever. At least none that are biologically mine. Who would want to bring a kid into this world?”

Well…Tommy. The thought comes to you after the words have already left your mouth and your heart sinks into your stomach, looking at Joel apologetically.

“Sweetheart, don’t even try to apologize. Ain’t nothing wrong with it.”

“It makes me sound horrible, I know but—”

“I’ve done my time—it’s none of my business how others choose to live. Besides, I’m pushing sixty, I don’t have to worry about all that…sorry, I’m not trying to be crude here.”

You nod knowingly with a smirk tugging at your lips, taking another sip of coffee before handing the mug off for him to place it next to his own, ready to slide off of the washer before Joel interjects with another question that catches you off guard.

“He treat you right, at least?”

You tilt your head with that same knowing smirk, pushing Joel away at his hip with your foot as he leans up from his position against the wall—Joel’s never flirted, always promptly skirted around the issue and went about it more gentlemanly. He’s not abrasive and straightforward like most of the men in Jackson, but damn did he know how to make you feel special.

Undivided attention, constant subtle compliments, giving up some much-needed sleep for a simple late night drink with you—part of you was too terrified to make your own move and make it clear just how badly you wanted just a small taste of him.

You’ve heard whispering, minimal talk from a few of the women in town. Joel didn’t often make his rounds but when he did, he left an impression. And you had every right to be jealous, because with him standing in front of you now—you knew it would be easy to say no and he would fix you right up, finally crossing that line that he’s been carefully dancing around for a few years.

“He’s a bit…timid,” You shrug, “and he doesn’t really…”

The air lingers and the side of Joel’s mouth pulls up—you don’t have to say it.

“Joel, don’t do that,” You shove at his shoulder as he approaches you, his hands pressing into the contraption you’re on, curled around the metal, “—he’s just…eager, but not in a good way.”

There’s a glint in Joel’s eye that leads you to believe he’s not thinking about Benny’s less than experienced sex life, feeling the sudden jitteriness from the coffee as your chest rises with a deep, shaky breath and Joel eyes the time over your shoulder.

Forty-five minutes and some change, plus the time to dry because Joel already knows you aren’t going to trouble yourself with walking the damp laundry through this cold, muggy weather.

“So, no then?” Joel asks.

He could have treated you better, sure. But, he wasn’t the worst.

But, the way Joel is staring at you knows makes everything and everyone dull in comparison.

You shake your head in agreement, chewing at the inside of your bottom lip as your hands fall to your lap, his hands ncreasingly closer to the tights covering your legs, suddenly feeling his thumb graze your hip. You both glance down at the action and your breathing halts, watching as his right hand slowly engulfs your thigh, fingers digging into the soft material and dimpling your skin underneath, his thumb only a few centimeters from dipping into the inside of your thigh.

They part on their own, welcoming Joel in wordlessly and his left hand echoes the other. His face is level with your own, staring down at your lips briefly before meeting your eyes and you’ve seen that look before—the adoration when he thought you weren’t watching, secretly you had become good at catching those glances, but Joel wasn’t trying to hide it now.

And it quickly dawns on you in the moment—he was jealous. Of Benny. Or really, any man that had come before him. But, he was using him as the scapegoat.

Honestly, you couldn’t even care.

“You want someone to treat you right?” He speaks softly and if you weren’t so close you wouldn’t have heard him, “I got you, sweetheart. I swear.”

He’s not looking at you anymore, eyes dragging down the bridge of your nose to your lips again. But, you are looking at him, flooded with that tricky feeling that creeps up on you when you want things you know you shouldn’t.

“Joel, I told you—I don’t do serious,” And you hold your breath for the response, wondering if that would send this moment crumbling to dust, but Joel doesn’t miss a step.

“Good for you,” Joel dotes, “neither do I.”

Then he’s on you, the press of his lips in a heated kiss sends you tumbling back, caught by the warm slide of his palm over your back to pull you in, throwing your arms over his shoulders as he pulls back briefly, just enough for you to open your mouth to speak, but his tongue finds its way inside and the words fade away.

Just friendly, my ass—you think.

If you had known he kissed like this—you would’ve jumped at the opportunity months ago; a night spent drinking too many glasses of wine and laughing over some movie far before your time, but not his. 

He was so entranced, giving you all the details, but you couldn’t help giggling over it, too touchy to be considered friendly.

You’d both cut it short quickly when Ellie popped in halfway through the movie, and beyond that, it never grew.

Until now.

“Sweet,” Joel notes with a subtle smile, his hand dwarfing the size of your neck as his fingers wrapped around the column of your throat, holding you firmly in place as he maneuvered you toward and away from the kiss as he pleased, swallowing every tiny moan that escaped your lips when his other hand squeezed at your thigh just a little too hard.

“All that sugar,” In your coffee, the taste lingering on your lips and he licks around them teasingly, pulling away briefly to look at you, your eyebrows raising in question as the gears turn in his head, “—you still with me?”

“I’m just wonderin’ if you’re okay with this,” Joel speaks candidly, his eyes trained on his thumb as it rubs against the middle of your throat, traveling up under your chin and tipping your head up slightly, watching as you swallowed, “before I take this further, jus’ need to know.”

You nod jerkily, not even a second of hesitation. 

“You would have known the moment you kissed me, Joel.”

In turn, Joel nods slowly before he speaks, stealing the air from your chest.

“Alright then, pull these down for me,” He tugs gently at the material clinging to your thighs before both of his hands find the spot behind your knees and tug until your feet hit the floor, “and push that pretty little ass out for me.”

The absurdity of this language on his tongue makes you giggle but abide in an instant, struggling slightly as the material bunches at your ankles and Joel helps you the rest of the way, tossing your pants aside before he’s kneeling despite how his body protests, too eager to give you a taste of the pleasure you deserve and he’s grabbing the cheeks of your ass and squeezing them between his hands before he’s leaning up to bite playful at the soft flesh.

He groans quietly against your skin, the press of his aquiline nose against your ass as his fingers fold around the string of your underwear and pull, dropping them down to your ankles and off and then his tongue is flat against the seam of your cunt, gasping as you fall forward and your own fingers clawing against nothing.

“Joel!” You squeak out as his fingers dig hard into your ass, forcing you up on your tiptoes as devours, licking into your cunt as it quivers around his tongue. 

Your hand pressed against the wall in front of you to keep your chest from hitting the washer, feeling your pussy tighten around the finger that enters alongside his expert tongue, a soft groan erupting out of him from behind you. That smug motherfucker was attempting a teasing huh under his breath as he busied himself with the task of eating you out from the back and you couldn’t even think straight. 

‘C’mon, baby,” He coos between his alternating licks and slurps of the heady slick that dripped from your cunt, “come all over my mouth, let me taste that sugar.”

It’s absurd, the way he’s speaking to you now. Your eyes squeeze shut as his thumb finds your clit amongst the chaos of his tongue and fingers, face heating up at how noisy your cunt sounded over the dull shake of the washer and Joel’s satisfied moans, occasionally massaging at the back of your thigh when your legs shake with the creeping feeling of your impending orgasm.

“Oh,” You squeal, reaching behind you to dig your fingers into his hair, panting out in desperation, “—fuck, don’t stop! Joel, right—right there,” and then glance you take back at him, his eyes peeking open from his position below, on his knees and dutiful to you and you alone, well…

It sends you tumbling over the edge as his thumb rubs over your clit quickly, soothing you through the aftermath as he laps up the mess you’ve made all over yourself, dragging his tongue along the inside of your thigh because if you knew anything about Joel, he didn’t waste a meal. 

And you were just about the finest he’s tasted.

You clear your throat as you rest your feet flat on the floor, feeling the faint quake in your legs as Joel rises slowly, forcing you to swallow down a giggle as he winces and he can see it on your face.

“Worth it,” He excuses himself, “don’t look at me like that.”

“No old man jokes?” You sound sad and Joel can’t believe it.

He shakes his head.

But, the smile that breaks out on your face quickly diminishes any comeback he has.

You begin to push him away with a hand gripped in his shirt, carefully avoiding the obvious bulge in his sweats as you reach for your tights, ready to redress and drop to your own knees as a favor but his fingers are wrapping around your wrist, pulling your attention back to him.

“I meant it,” Joel tells you, tilting his head to catch your gaze.

You smile wide and tilt your head to mirror him, “I think you proved your point—Benny is a pathetic man who doesn’t know how to make me come, blah blah…”

“My job ain’t done if you’re still thinkin’ about him, darlin’.”

His eyebrows raise in challenge.

Okay, you’re game.

Wordlessly you allow the hands at your hip that guide you toward the front of the joined appliances, his fingers sliding under your top until you get the hint to pull it off, your breasts bouncing free from the shirt—the few bras you had were already in the wash, big deal.

Joel chuckles and stops for a moment, admiring the sight of your breasts for the second time that month, albeit more openly this time. He reaches forward and rubs his thumb along your nipple, watching the nub harden under his touch and you bite at your bottom lip, eye fluttering closed at how sensitive they were to touch, something other men never took the time to notice.

“You like that?” Joel asks with a creeping grin.

You nod, watching as he squeezed your tits in his hands, showing your nipples ample attention as he circled them with his thumb before leaning down slightly and swiping his tongue over the hardened nubs, sucking your breast into his mouth and his eyes peer up, gauging your reaction which quickly developed from a soft giggle to a loud moan.

“Clothes,” You breath out, “off—if you still have a point to prove.”

A point that you wanted proven. Hard.

Joel pulls away and yanks his shirt over his head, allowing you an unobscured view of the mix of muscled shoulders and his softened stomach, running your hand over the patch of hair at the center of his chest and down, right along his hips until his own fingers hook around the fabric and pull his sweats and boxers down in one motion, his cock catching against the edge of his waistband before it bobs back up toward his stomach.

You find yourself smiling despite yourself, forgetting for a moment that Joel was standing there and watching you, feeling your mouth water at the sight of him hard and leaking at how just getting a small taste of you had turned him on that much, precum leaking slowly from the tip and he wraps his hand around himself, other hand tapping at your chin to drag your attention back up to his face, reminding you he was still there.

“Got somethin’ on your mind, sweetheart?”

You shake your head furiously, “No, no—no, nothing. Just, uh—”

“I’ll start slow,” He tells you and with the size of him, thick and girthy in ways you’ve only imagined or pictured in your head, it’s daunting, “are you still alright with all of this?”

Your face softens and you nod, appreciating the repeated check-ins, the need for confirmation, but it pulls at your heart as you wonder why he feels the need to ask so much. As if he was fearful you would change your mind on a dime—Joel was fine with that, but he was more worried about the change in dynamic. Thankfully, you were determined for that not to be the case.

“I’m pretty tough,” You shrug, a playful smile gracing your face.

Joel nods absently as his fingers drag along your waist before catching behind your knee and pulling it up over his hip, both of your eyes dragging down to his cock as he tugged at himself a few times, his brow furrowed as he spread your lips apart with the head, dipping his hips down slightly to catch against your hole before he pushes in slow, one solid stroke that steals the sound from your throat and transfers to his own. Joel groans out softly as he pushes into you, his hands gravitating toward your face and wrapping around the sides of your neck, tilting your head back to mouth at your skin, his tongue dragging along your collarbone before sucking and nipping gently at your skin.

“Don’t I know it,” Joel responds after a while, “find something to hold onto.”

Your soft giggle of excitement shoots down to your core and your fingers wrap around the edges of the washer and Joel pulls back swiftly before he’s snapping his hips back into you before repeating the process several times, the jolt of the machine hitting the concrete wall behind you drowned out by your loud moans, quickly swallowed up by Joel’s lips as he pulls your mouth to his, breathing into it with every sharp snap of his hips.

“Harder,” You beg, biting at his bottom lip as he groans, using his fingers intertwined into the hair at the nape of your neck now to pull your head back and he pulls his hips back quick, bottoming himself out inside of you so forcefully you feel like your legs might give out, his cock rubbing against your already too sensitive g-spot and continuously finding a way to bring you closer and closer to the edge, “fuck—yes, yes. Joel, oh my god—”

“Yeah,” Joel goads you, his eyes drawn closed as he tries to keep his own orgasm at bay, “give it to me, baby—wanna watch you make a mess on my cock, alright?”

Easy, you laugh airily and feel the instinctive squeeze of your walls around Joel’s cock as he pulls your face to his, foreheads pressed against each other as he angles his hips back and slams into you one last time before you come undone, head falling back in a similar position to how he caught you a few weeks ago, this time for him. 

Your grab for his shoulders suddenly, blunt fingernails digging into his skin and he takes a few harsh breaths through his nose before he’s pulling out, hand grasping his cock as he jerked himself a few seconds before he comes in thick, short spurts against your stomach, squeezing at the head of his cock as he drags it through the mess he’s made.

His expression is nothing short of mesmerizing, mouth hung open just enough that his tongue can drag over his bottom lip before his teeth are taking its place, eyes drawn to your skin.

Wordlessly, he pulls away on his own pair of shaky legs as he reaches for his wrinkled, worn shirt and brings it to your stomach, cleaning up the mess with a faint smile on his face.

“You know, I think it might take me a bit to fix my washer,” You tease, “so—I might be over here bothering you for a while.”

Joel peers up at you, his head still tucked down as he wiped at your stomach.

“Fine with me.”

Then he’s peering over your shoulder, watching as the washer time inched toward zero, dinging behind you. You turn around, letting your leg fall from his hip finally, ass brush against him in the process and Joel can’t help the way his eyes refuse to leave the sight of it.

Only feeling slightly guilty when you catch him this time, not giving him the pass you usually do.

“We’ve still got about an hour left if I dry them here,” You tell him, “anything else you wanna prove?”

Joel’s tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek, eyes dragging up toward the upper level of his house before flicking back toward you, a smile plastered on your face.

“I can think of a few things.”

divider creds: @/cafekitsune

[chunghasweetie]

𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐔𝐏 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 | J.JK

— pairing | fem!oc x gangsta!jjk

— summary | gangsta jk wants to crash at her place but she got a lil some up her sleeve

— warning | bad writing (i’m doing my best)

cussing, angst, smut, unprotected sex, illegal activities, gun play, mention of head, oc gets fucked with a gun, whining, cum eating, dirty talk.

— word count | 3.9k words

— song suggestion | gangsta (orchestra ver) —kehlani

It was the same thing everyday.

Work, go home, sleep.

Nothing ever changed and it had been like that for way too long.

She needed to switch things up somehow but she didn’t even have the energy to think of what could solve her issues.

Until he came along.

The two met at the liquor store randomly at around 2am. They reached for the same bottle, chuckling at the similar intention.

She immediately caught his eye. Which was surprising to her since she was in her pajamas with messy hair and no makeup.

He asked for her number and they had little meetups here and there.

He was so secretive and mysterious about what he was doing. Not in a gross, womanizer way. In a way that made her want to learn more about him.

He was ‘Jeon’ in her phone. She didn’t even have his full name.

He was inked up in tattoos. Tall and definitely bulky with muscle all over him. He was crafted beautifully.

He had a nice car. She noticed the extremely dark tint and possibly illegal modifications applied to the vehicle.

She had no clue what kind of job he worked or what he did in his day to day life.

Until one day he finally told her. He was the Jeon Jungkook that had been on the run for multiple crimes and ran a large gang in the city.

And she’d been fucking him the entire time.

He knew from the start she wouldn’t turn him in. He had her wrapped around her finger.

He knew all about her dilemma. How she needed that change in her life.

He was more than willing to provide that escape.

She craved something new, and he was just the man to give it to her.

“Let me come over baby.” He spoke on the other line. “Miss you.”

She was on her couch, biting her lip.

She knew he was not a good man at all. She knew that from the beginning. For years she promised herself she’d never be associated with any one of the sort.

Always following the rules got so boring.

“Don’t be like that.” Jungkook hummed. “I just wanna see you. You don’t want to see me Y/n?”

His voice was so dominant and demanding. He was strict and for right to it.

He somehow was able to have his own phone number that was untraceable by the police.

He was crazy good at avoiding getting caught.

“Okay.” Y/n gave in.

“Mm knew you’d be smart about this.” Jungkook chuckled to her, hanging up and getting in his car to head to her apartment.

She tilted her head back on her couch, sighing.

She didn’t think it would come to this. She thought things like this only happened in stories or in the movies.

This was the last thing she was thinking about. She couldn’t help herself though.

How could she? Jungkook may have been a criminal but he was so hot.

His voice was like a pied piper.

She was so drawn to him. His looks, his charisma, his body, everything.

She wouldn’t call it love. She couldn’t call it love. It was mere attraction and that’s all she labeled it as.

She always thought he looked like he was straight out of a TV show. Although he was rough around the edges, he was super sweet and caring considering what his lifestyle was like.

“Open up mama! Cold as fuck out here!” He yelled out, snapping her out of her thoughts.

Jungkook was at her apartment door, dressed in his white tank and tan cargo pants. His tank emphasized his muscular, tattooed arms so well.

He had a bouquet of roses in his hand, waiting for his girl to answer the door.

He was always doing such romantic gestures for her. There would be nights he wouldn’t want to do anything sexual. Simply coming over to spend time with her.

Once Y/n opened the door, he couldn’t help but curve his lips into a smile.

“Well look at you.” His eyes moved from the bottom to the top of her body. “Gorgeous.” He stepped in, immediately wrapping his arms around her once she shut the door.

She took a silent inhale. He smelt so damn good.

Maybe it was something in the cologne he was wearing that made her so attached to him. His scent instantly sent her into a trance.

“Hey.” Y/n replied. “Was just about to make dinner.”

“You were?” He mumbled against her neck. “Make me something baby.”

She nodded, agreeing. “You’re gonna have to let go of me.”

“Ugh fine.” He groaned. “Spending the night again. Cops looking for me alllll over.”

He knew they’d never find him, but the excuse always worked.

“That’s fine.” She nodded.

She did get anxious when he’d say things like that.

He was a fugitive and she was keeping him in her home.

Jungkook went up to her room, getting comfy in the clothes he already had over there.

She had started cooking for the both of them, making some chicken and rice dish she seen online.

As Y/n focused on her cooking, Jungkook was leaning back on the counter, simply staring at her.

“I like this.”

“You like what?” She blinked.

“Seeing you all domestic and shit.” He chuckled.

“I’m just cooking dinner.” She smiled.

“Mm it’s more than that.” He chuckled. “Making me a nice meal, having clean clothes for me, gonna tuck me into bed later. Love when we play house like this Y/n.”

She blushed. “I guess it is nice.”

“Food smells good.” Jungkook inhaled. “You smell better.” He wrapped his arms around her waist.

“I’m wearing that perfume you bought me last week.” She told him as she was making his plate.

“Oh really? It smells even better than it did in the store.” He hummed against her neck. “You’re wearing the jewelry I bought you too.”

“Of course. Never taking it off.” She chuckled.

“Good. If I’m iced out my girl gotta be too.” He planted a kiss on her neck.

“Well it’s very nice to be spoiled like this.” She giggled, handing him his plate. “Now go eat while it’s hot.”

He removed his body from hers, taking a seat at the table.

“Taste test it baby.” She told him, “I’ll start eating in a minute.”

He nodded, trying the food.

“How is it? Good?”

"Good's an understatement. Shit's fucking amazing, baby." He takes another bite and watches her.

“Yay! Happy you like it.” Y/n replied from the kitchen, trying to clean up some of her mess.

"You ain't made yourself a plate yet? Come here and sit." He looked over at her.

“Okay okay.” She nodded, getting a beer from the fridge for him. She made herself a plate finally and sat down at the table.

He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest after she set the beer down in front of him. "Ain't no one else gonna take care of me like this. I’m lucky to have you.”

“You are.” She laughed. “Doubt any of those other girls know how to care of you.”

“What other girls?” He rose his eyebrow. “Jealous of the girls I’m around?”

“How could I not be?” She questioned. “I just don’t understand.”

He smirks as he picks up the beer and takes a long swig, his throat moving as he swallows.

“Don’t understand what?”

“Why you stick around me.” She spoke. “There’s girls who do the same shit you do. You and your boys go out and there’s strippers and bottle girls. I’m a regular ass person.”

He frowned at her, looking honestly confused. "What the fuck you talking about mama?" He asked as he leaned back in his chair and shook his head.

"I chose you because of you. Fuck all these other bitches. You're the only one who can handle my shit." He said honestly.

“That can’t just be it.” She shook her head.

“So what? You think I’m just in it for a good fuck?”

“That’s not— exactly it.” She sighed.

She could tell he’s growing a bit irritated but it was bugging her.

She knew guys hated that sappy shit. But she couldn’t help that she was getting her emotions get in the way.

He leaned back again, crossing his arms over his chest. He stared at her from across the table before speaking.

"Then fucking tell me, Y/n. What is it?" He asked, his voice growing softer but still holding onto that edge of annoyance.

“Forget it. Nevermind.” She sighed, finishing her food and taking her plate to the sink to wash it.

He watched her finish her food and take the plate to the sink. "You can't start a conversation like that and then drop it, babe." He said.

He began walking up behind her as she washed the plate. "You wanna know why I'm with you?

“I just want to know what we’re doing here. You’ve been coming over for months now and you’re doing all these romantic things for me and I just want to know what’s up.” She spoke honestly.

He stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist gently, resting his chin on her shoulder. "I like you here, like this. I like showing you a good time, you know?" He turned her around in his arms and gazed down at her.

“What does that even mean” She mumbled as she washed plates.

He lifted a hand to her cheek, thumb brushing against it gently. "It means I like being with you, mama. It feels...right.”

He leaned in closer to her, eyes searching hers. "I like spoiling you, taking care of you. Feels different than anyone before..."

As much as she wanted to pester him more about the subject, she didn’t say anything else.

He seemed to notice the hesitance and smiled softly, ducking his head to press a soft kiss against her lips. "You don't gotta overthink it, Y/n. It's just...good, okay? You know I love you.”

She finished up the dishes, putting them away to dry.

He watched her for a moment, before moving to her side and starting to help her with cleaning.

His hand brushed against yours, sending a shiver down her spine.

"Y/n, it's okay. I promise you." He whispered, leaning in to press another kiss against her temple. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” She thanked him. Her lips curved into a smile. “I mean it is cute to see this buff tattooed bad guy get all sappy and shit for me for me.”

He chuckled and shook his head, his eyes crinkling up with amusement. "You better not tell anyone" He threatened, his voice dropping lower as he spoke. "You love it though...”

“I guess I do.”

He laughed softly and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "I know you do." He whispered, his arms tightening around her as he let out a content sigh. "You're the only one who gets to see this side of me.”

“I’ll consider myself lucky then.” She laughed. “I was successfully able to tame the beast.”

He chuckled lightly and pressed a kiss to her neck, holding his arms tighter around her.

"You did more than tame the beast, baby...you own me completely. Shit, you could put a leash and collar on my ass anytime." He whispered hotly against her neck, his lips ghosting over her skin as he spoke.

She couldn’t help but laugh at his joke.

“I could keep you laughing and satisfied all day, if you'll just let me." He mumbled.

“Oh I’d let you anyyyy day of the week.” She laughed. “See what you’ve done to me?”

“I haven’t done shit baby that was all you.” He chuckled.

“Whatever.”

"Yeah, yeah, yeah whatever you say, baby." He picked her up effortlessly, “Let’s go upstairs hm?”

“Thought you’d never ask.” She agreed, allowing him to take her.

He chuckled, lifting her over his shoulder and carrying her upstairs as he kissed her thighs and gave your ass a playful squeeze. "Look at you...so fucking fine. You know I can't resist."

“Oh my gosh Jungkook.” She blushed as they got inside her room.

"That's right, babe. I got you...right where I want you." He tossed her onto the bed before crawling up to her body, kissing and nibbling at her neck. "If only these walls could talk..."

“Jungkook!” She hid her face in embarrassment, getting flashbacks of all the different things they had done in her room.

"Oh come on, don't hide from me now, Y/n." He kissed her cheek as he caressed her face.

"Do you remember the first time we fucked in this room?" Jungkook smirked and laughed. "You were begging for my cock, mama.”

“That’s not what happened!” She instantly denied.

Jungkook laughed harder, his eyes shining mischievously.

"Oh yes, you were mama don’t play! And when you finally got it you were screaming your lungs out. Kept going on and on about how it was the best sex you’ve ever had…” He continued, not giving her the chance to speak.

“This is so humiliating.” She groaned, hiding her face in embarrassment by flipping the blanket over her face.

Jungkook tugged the blanket down a little, showing her face again. "Don't be shy, Y/n. I fucking loved it when I made you scream my name. And made you cum on the first try?" He crawled on top of her again, his knees on either side of her hips.

“You’re so annoying.”

Jungkook chuckled. "That's not what you were saying when I had my cock in your mouth, babe."

His eyes glinted with amusement as he leaned down to kiss her. "I can make you forget all about your embarrassment again, if you want?"

“How’re you going to do that?” She asked, playing dumb.

Jungkook kissed her slowly, running his tongue along the edge of her lips.

He reached down between her legs and began rubbing, his touch firm and confident. "Do I need to give you a reminder right now?"

He immediately earned a soft moan from her, making him to smirk to himself.

Jungkook smiled mischievously, his fingers never leaving that soft spot between her thighs.

"That's a good girl. Just like that." He began driving his fingers in rhythm with his tongue, letting out a moan of his own. "Is this better, Y/n?”

“Mhm!” She moaned, nodding her head quickly.

Jungkook chuckled against her lips, picking up the pace at her small moan.

"You're fucking soaked, you know that, right mama?" His voice was low, amused. "Looks like I can still make you wet."

She could feel his gun pressed against her from his waistband. It drove her fucking insane with lust.

Jungkook felt her press closer, rubbing against his gun. He smirked at her before moving his hand, placing the gun in plain sight for her.

"See something you like, babe?" He said with a chuckle, twirling it around his finger.

“I-I feel it.” She croaked. She had always been curious about his gun in ways she never thought she was the type to fantasize about.

Jungkook grinned, setting it down gently. "Wanna touch it, babe?" His voice was low and inviting.

He took a step back, giving her room to move. "Just be careful, though. It's loaded." He teased.

She nodded quietly, “I do.”

Jungkook watched her grab the gun, letting you get a feel for its weight. He didn't interrupt, just watch her curiously.

"You like?" He asked with a smirk. "Don't tell me you have some kind of fetish for guns."

“I- um.” She swallowed, “Something like that? Well I’ve never done anything but— I’ve been curious.” She handed his gun back to him.

Jungkook took the gun carefully, his smirk growing into a full-on grin. "I knew it."

He whispered seductively. "Why don't we test out that curiosity of yours?" He suggested with a raise of his eyebrow.

“How?”

Jungkook pulled her a little bit closer, his free hand wandering up her side before resting on the edge of her waist.

"Do you want me to fuck you with it? How does that sound?" He smirked, unloading the gun in front of her. He places the gullets on her nightstand.

She nodded, letting a quiet ‘please’ slip from her lips.

Jungkook let out a low growl at her response, his grip on the gun tightening.

"You like that idea, Y/n?" He asked. His free hand wandered to the hem of her shirt, slowly lifting it upwards. "Lay back."

She didn’t hesitate to do so, laying back.

Jungkook bit his lip seductively as he looked down at her, the gun clicking gently in his fingers. "Fuck, yes." He said admiringly.

He bit his lip, placing the gun down in a position of reach before trailing his fingers lower and low on her stomach.

Her pussy was sopping wet with need. Her core aching as she watched the now unloaded gun in his hand.

Jungkook watched her with a lustful gaze as he heard her words, biting his lip again before placing the gun on her lip.

"You're so fucking wet for me already, huh? Mama so ready to get fucked with my gun huh baby?" He asked.

“So pretty Y/n.” His hand sliding lower still until he could feel her wetness. “Get the gun all nice and wet for me baby.”

She kept her gaze on him, spitting and sucking on the muzzle the gun like she was told to.

Jungkook groaned at the sight, glancing down at her almost hungrily. "Fucking hell you're such a hungry little girl, y'know that?"

Jungkook couldn't resist her whiny plea any longer, as he pulled the gun out of her mouth.

He lined the gun muzzle up with her entrance. He slowly slid the gun inside of her, gasping at the sight.

A gasp and an ‘oh fuck’ left her lips. Once adjusted, she instantly melted into the feeling, a moan leaving her lips.

It felt better than how she ever could’ve imagined it to be.

Jungkook groaned at her reaction, watching as he slowly slid the gun in and out of her.

"Fuck Y/n you're loving this aren't you? You're such a slut for my gun and I just now put it in you.” He chuckled.

“J-Jungkook” She moaned out his name, biting her lip. “Fuck that feels good.”

With her voice echoing his name, Jungkook lost control of his actions.

He began thrusting the gun in and out of her faster, even pulling her legs over his shoulders.

"Shit you like watching me fuck your pussy with my gun huh?” He spoke to her. “Been practically humping me for weeks. All that to get to my gun huh baby?”

It was so true.

Whenever they made out she would get super close and grind herself on the imprint of his gun. She almost could cum off just rubbing against it.

“Oh fuck yes!” She whined, “Jungkook I fucking love this.”

Jungkook loved her weak voice. Watching her squirm only made him plunge the gun faster.

"Looking so good taking it in. I wanna fuck you all day like this." He whispered seductively in her ear, sucking on her bottom lip.

Her wetness coated the gun, “F-Fuck oh my gosh” She whimpered. “A-All this time I— Fuck” She could hardly talk.

With the gun still inside of her, Jungkook grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him.

"All this time you wanted my gun? Every day I'd bend you over and plow you right... fucking... here..." He grunted. “But this gun was all you really wanted hm?”

“Mmm I— just wanted it so bad jungkook you don’t understand.” She quivered her lip.

A smirk appeared on his face as he began to thrust the gun harder and deeper inside her.

"I understand now baby. I know how badly you wanted it." He growled, grabbing her hips with both hands.

Jungkook smirked, thrusting the gun even harder, making her whimper. "You're such a dirty little slut for me. That's right baby, tell me how much you need my gun to get off.”

“Jungkook please— Feels so fucking good. Never had anything like this. Mm— such a slut.” She was rambling.

The way the gun was penetrating her made her whine with pleasure as it stretched her in the best way possible.

“Came so— so many times. Just from the thought.” She kept going. “Fuck— I was changing the sheets every damn hour”

His cocky grin widened as he pressed the gun deeper, his other hand traveling down to her soaked pussy.

He teased her clit with his fingers, "That's my girl. I want you soaked for me every damn hour.”

“Fuck— You’re killing me.” The double stimulation overwhelmed her.

"Is that too much for you baby? Can't handle it?" He chuckled, thrusting the gun harder, before pressing his fingers deeper, curling them to hit her g-spot.

She gasped again, gripping onto the sheets. “I-I can just— Shit it’s too fucking good” She cursed, grabbing onto her breast with her other hand.

"You love it, don't you baby? When I take control like this." He leaned down, pressing his lips against her ear. "I own every inch of you, and you fucking know it. Whether it’s my cock or my gun.”

She was milking his gun with her juices, whimpering and whining. The gun was fucking her absolutely stupid.

“D-Don’t think I can take any more.” She managed to get out, “W-Wanna cum on the gun”

Jungkook laughed, shaking his head as he continued to thrust the gun into her, pulling the trigger back twice.

The empty clicks filling the room, while he got to touch her throbbing pussy. "You want to cum, huh mama?”

“Jungkook please” She begged him to cum. The sounds of the empty clicks driving her insane.

“You're crazy mama. Absolutely insane." He groaned.

He pulled the trigger back one last time, hearing the empty click after he was spent.

“Jungkook please! I want to cum so bad!” tears of pleasure ran down her cheeks.

"You're more desperate than I thought." Jungkook grabbed her hair, pulling hard as his other hand began rubbing your needy little clit hard.

"Cum on the gun Y/n."

She didn’t waste a second, letting her juices flow and drop down the gun barrel.

He felt his cock twitch at her screams as she came, splashing hot cum all over his hand and the gun.

"Good fucking girl. Now clean this shit up.” He aimed the muzzle of the gun facing her mouth.

“W-What? You want me to clean it?”

“That's what I said." He replied with a snarl as he began stroking his cock again, dripping wet cum from the tip of it.

She obeyed him, sucking and licking her cum off of the gun. She dragged her tongue all over the barrel, looking into his eyes as she did so.

His hands gripped the gun tightly as he watched her sucking and licking her cum off. It was perverted as hell, but his cock was twitching again.

His eyes darkened, and he felt his cock twitch at her words, the sight of her on her knees with his cum mixing with hers.

"I know.." He purred as he pulled the gun away from your her. "Now come here. I got something else for you to suck.”

[waywardducks]

Batboy’s favorite dates

All characters are 18 or older ໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১

Dick<3:

Honestly, where ever you're happy, he's happy. He's pretty outgoing, concerts, amusement parks ect. He likes exciting dates, by he would never say no to a night in with extra cuddles. He likes to lay out options and let you decide, because like I said, what makes you happiest is ultimately what will make him happiest.

“Your favorite band is in town next month, guess who just scored front-row seats!”

Jason<3:

Bookstore trips and quiet days out are Jason’s go to. Maybe a motorcycle ride out to the bookstore, then to a gun expo and home for some homemade dinner and some good old fashion Netflix and chill. He also seems like a 3 am local 24/7 diner date kinda guy.

“Get dressed, we’re going out.” No questions asked.

Tim<3:

Tim is a gamer and hella neurodivergent. A night in playing video games, eating take out, chugging weird monthser and sour candy concoctions, and case file solving is the perfect date. He likes to spoil you too, romantic dinners, long drives to small towns he thinks you’ll love, shopping trips and Galas.

“Hey, put this on. There's a new restaurant I've been wanting try. I think you’ll like it.”

Damian<3:

He’s a man of culture and a rich boy, you know your dates are elite. Art galleries, expensive restaurants, and museums. He loves a quiet date, something peaceful. Aquariums and animal sanctuarys are always a good go to. Maybe a pottery class, a wine and painting date. Anywhere you too can talk quietly and be together.

“The Gotham History Museum has a new ceramics exhibit. Shall we go together?”

Bruce<3:

Bruce is a classy man. Wine tasting at an expensive Italian restaurant, Galas (a new gown of your choice for each one), a day out on his yacht, he’ll fly you to the keys just so you can walk on the beach together. Money isn't an issue for him, he'll start each date with a new piece of jewelry and beautiful flowers.

“These earrings reminded me of you, they match your eyes perfectly.”

[amazinglyashy]

Hi hello!!! I saw tons of your work and I'm very impressed with your skill! If I may, may I request the LaDS Men with Reader who sometimes stare at kids who are having fun with their parents or spending time with each other because Reader doesn't have a good relationship with her family and felt envy to those kids who got to spend time with their parents.

I wanted to know how would they react and do! If my words are confusing, feel free to DM me! Thank you for your time!!

Everyone keeps yelling at me in the tags about me personally attacking them with some of my posts, yet YALL ARE ATTACKING ME WITH PROMPTS AS WELL, POT MEET KETTLE! Thank you so much for this prompt <3 I felt this one personally :'D So I had fun writing it!

LaDS men when you get emotional in public seeing parents and their kids in public

Zayne -

It's… difficult for Zayne to watch.

He knew you when you were both younger, but old enough to know that what was happening to you was… not good. But still too young to do anything about it himself.

It hurts to see you look at families and know exactly what's going through your mind in that moment, but he does his best to quell his own emotions and keep them in check. You don't need to be worried or feeling any kind of guilt for making him feel hurt on your behalf. He wants you to express things in a way that'll help you, without being conscious about how he might be feeling.

Zayne stays quiet though. Sometimes it's good to get you away from the bad thoughts wracking through your mind, he knows that. But other times? You have to process it. You have to get through the painful and the ugly in order to start healing, and you have to do the fighting on your own. Inside your head, where he can't help you.

But out here?

He'll do anything for you.

Anything you ask, anywhere you want to go after you snap out of your envy and thoughts, you can consider it done.

He might not be able to help you- might not be able to stop those feelings of envy and sadness from even entering your mind before they make a home there, even if for a little while-

But he'll help you in any other way he can.

Sylus -

"The people closest to you might be the ones who want to kill you the most."

Sylus keeps so many tabs on you, even prior to your eventful meeting, that he knows good and well what the relationship with your family looks like. And there's more than one reason to why he said this to you, gun in your hand and legs straddling his lap. He may not believe they want to kill you, or may be he does depending on the circumstances, but what he does know is that you're safe with him regardless.

That doesn't solve the whole 'emotions' aspect of it, however.

He'll place a hand on the small of your back, ushering you forward. It's not that he doesn't want you to watch the family, it's just he can see the clouds forming in your eyes, and he'd rather you get emotional somewhere more private, for your own sake. He didn't need you feeling humiliated for getting misty-eyed in public on top of the already complex emotions you were already feeling.

Even if you're not close to tears, it's still better to him to get you away. He wants you to feel safe enough to do so, if your feelings bubbled up unexpectedly and you suddenly needed to cry, he wanted you to be somewhere you could.

And he knows you know you're already with someone you could cry around, as well.

Sometimes, he'll ask about it, just to allow you the space to vent. Oftentimes, he just keeps quiet, letting you process the thoughts going through your mind.

He's right there though, no matter what you may need.

Xavier -

"That looks good, would you like one too?" He'll ask, referencing the ice cream cone the kid is holding, knowing fully well why you're staring.

He has his own generous share of family and parental issues, so he knows how you feel. And after hearing some of your childhood memories, whether they were about your feelings or if he just gathered that information from in between the lines- he can relate to you well.

But... he'd rather not let you dwell too long, if he can help it.

The way he sees it, is you already spent a long time in pain. Years upon years of it, wondering if you would ever get the approval- love, care- from your family that was never going to come. Your own forever waiting and hoping and trying to make a relationship work that was always destined to fail, because the deciding factor on it's success or failure was not on you. It was never on you.

And he doesn't want you to waste more time feeling sorrow over something you've already dug a knife into your gut over, so many times already.

But if you need to- feel what you're feeling, be a little wistful, or even cry- he's here for you. He's here for you no matter what you need.

A shoulder to cry on, a big hug, a favorite movie on the couch later that still reminds you of a time where you chased after affections that were sadly never meant for you- but the happy parts that made you laugh alone in a room raised on a television-

He's got you.

Rafayel -

Rafayel's heard the stories.

Whether it's about your babied little sibling getting a bike after asking once when you spent years begging and saving to buy your own, being treated to the bare minimum of care by your parents, or something more insidious-

Rafayel has heard all of the stories from you by now.

So when he sees you looking abnormally long at a family, when nothing particularly funny is happening- the kid isn't saying something insane, the parents aren't trolling the kid, etc- and he sees your far-away expression, it's like he's pulled up a chair in the recesses of your mind to join you in your melancholy.

It's better than you suffering alone.

"Hey cutie. How's it going?"

He'll ask you after a while, having been with you the whole time, so he knows exactly how it's going. But his words are less out of concern for you and more to snap you out of the daze you're in. He doesn't mind if you feel sad, he's here for you no matter what, but he just doesn't want you to start and spiral.

He knows there's not really anything he can do. It's just a part of you now, the pain of the relationship you'll never get to have, that's nearly there but just an inch away from your fingertips every time you reach for it, no matter how much you try and strain yourself to grasp it. And he knows he can't exactly fill that hole.

But damn if he's not going to be with you throughout every bad thought, bad day, bad experience.

You're stuck with him, and he'll love you through it all.

[mullermilkshake]

A lasting impression - Part one

Part one, Part two, Part three, Part four

You face some issues only your husband can solve.

Wife!reader x Yakuza!Sukuna

Tags: Yakuza AU, female reader, established relationship, graphic depictions of violence, gore, murder, eye gouging, blood, kidnapping, restraints, blindfold, references to non-con.

"We need you to come with us, Madam Chairman."

Just like that, two men blocked your entrance to the fourth story elevator. Two men you had never seen before.

"Says who?" you said, watching the elevator doors slow to a close behind them.

There was no real reason to be threatened, not with your body guard waiting for you down on the ground floor. You knew immediately that they were Yakuza at least by the distinction of their clan crest, but none belonging to the Ryomen clan.

That crest you did not recognise.

"Says my nine millimetre," the man on the left let the barrel of his pistol barely poke out from the fabric seam of his suit jacket.

Okay, maybe there was a little reason to be alarmed, yet you weren't. There had been times like this and far worse you had endured that allowed your calmed composure.

"Where do you want to take me?"

You were due downstairs right now, and give it five minutes, your guard would make the connection and come to you instead.

Usually it was Uraume who accompanied you on ventures into the heart of the district, but today was different.

"That's none of your business."

Well, this is interesting. Just a coincidence that a new guard arises and now you had a gun pointed at your face.

"Alright then, lead the way," this couldn't have been worse than that time in Nanami's office, before you had even met Sukuna.

All that blood.

The elevator dinged open though all you focused on was that gun cocking and clicking to the left of you. Each man either side to underestimate you.

Because you had Sukuna for a husband.

Leaning back and welcoming the cool reflective surface of the elevator glass, you brought your foot up with little time until the elevator reached the third floor to descend lower.

You were able to slip your stiletto off and get one good grip onto it, waiting for the elevator to ding past the floor and descend to the next.

With one quick countdown, you swung your arm, aiming the tiny point of the shoe into the mans eye, waisting no time to pull and yank to grab at his gun.

"Arghhh!" he clawed at his eye and thrashed around to pull out the stiletto heel along with his eye.

"What the fuck?!"

The barrel of his gun looked directly at the other man, pressing up against his chin. "This gun is mine now. You'll be foolish to try and take this from me."

As you suspected, he had a gun too, tucked just at the side of this ribcage in its own little holster. You snatched it away from him and backed away pressing all of the elevator buttons to get out.

"You underestimate me if you assume I'd go willingly."

"All we're doin' is following orders you stupid bitch. You've just made this worse for yourself."

"That's for me to know, and I guess I'll find that out too," the elevator doors opened, "so please excuse me."

Waiting for the doors to close, the cartridges of the guns dropped out and clattered on the floor. Your other shoe came off and slid halfway across the hallway.

The guns and ammunition ended up in separate trashcans whilst you tried to get through to your husband. you were no longer safe in the district let alone the building.

"What is it?" he answered after three rings from the pay phone on the wall.

“Sukuna.”

His tone shifted to a smoother score instead of pointedly answering. “Why are you calling from a pay phone?”

It was because you never called him directly. "Something's gone wrong, I need-"

You hadn't looked behind you down the long hall and the door just down the way. You only noticed when you turned and saw the largest woman you had ever seen.

It was stupid. Lights out.

Fuck.

When you came too, your eyes were covered with an opaque fabric, light like silk and heavy enough not to budge under your movement. The stringent pain lining your eye socket was more than enough to set you in a dazed state.

"Madam Chairman, you’re awake.”

You said nothing, drawing in long dreary a as silently as possible. There was a shifting like scuffling which dragged what sounded like a chair leg across the floor.

Whoever it was let out what could only be described as a disappointed sigh. “You’ll fetch a hefty sum from that old bastard to get you back... Do you think he'd still pay the same if we returned you damaged?"

There was no way you could recognise that voice just on memories alone, you meet a lot of people in diverse settings. It was deep, harsh on the lips, grating as though this man had smoked every single day of his life.

"Do what you want," despite your instincts fluttering in the pit of your stomach, you kept up your exterior, "it's not like I have a choice, right?"

The man chuckled with amusement. "That's true, you don't. Still, you aren’t what I thought you’d be. There’s not an ounce of fear in that heart, is there?”

"Will you at least explain why I'm actually here?"

“It’s not for me to tell you, that’s down to my boss.”

"So why waste my time and ask stuspid questions?" Sukuna had rubbed off on you far more than you realised.

You didn't dare let the thought cross your mind of what this lecherous man had in store for you, his mind obviously full of filth to see clearly. Most people would have panicked, but, in the end, you knew Sukuna would always come to your rescue.

Just like now when the ear splitting sound of a door being kicked in with enough force to rip the hinges off and clang against the floor.

And then, the man changed his tune. "M-mr Sukuna."

You sat still and upright, wincing every now and then to the sting at your cheek, listening to the punches thrown and various wood creaking and snapping with clear signs of struggle.

Not one word was uttered, pleaded or yelled in whatever sized room you were in, but the volume of sounds led you to believe you were inside a small one, maybe no bigger than a box room. The vibrations were close by yet nothing touched you, nothing whizzed past you in a narrowly avoided throw past your head.

Then it all stopped and your blind fold was pulled from your eyes.

"Hello, love," you said, seeing Sukuna's entire face splashed with red.

It wasn't all from one man, no way.

"Your face. Who did that?" his tone was softer than usual. “Perhaps I've already killed him. That’ll be a shame.”

Leaning into his touch as he caressed your cheek, Sukuna untied you using the point of his knife to cut through the restraints.

“A tall woman, taller than Gojo. Biggest person I've ever seen."

"A Woman?"

You nodded and took his hand to steady yourself. "Yeah, I'd never seen her before."

Sukuna looked around the room you hadn't taken a glance of yet, watching him closely rub the smears of blood from his cheek.

"I have an idea who, but for now I'll take you to the car," he picked you up and carried you out of that little room.

Blood, far too much for one person. However, there was just one body in there in a bloodied and crumpled heap in the corner.

And then the question had been answered as soon as he took you out of that little room. There were several men on the ground, all in the same viscous star as the other man, lying crumpled on the ground in separate heaps of mess.

"Someone get her feet covered. Now."

He didn't put you down even once he had walked the entire two levels down to the ground floor to the car. There was Uraume, pulling open the car door and slipping off their own shoes for you.

"It's fine Uraume, I'll be alright-"

"Take her home," Sukuna didn't get in with you, but he took a hold of your hands, "there's something I must do before this is dealt with, I'll meet you as soon as it's finished."

There was no way he was walking or getting a tact, surely? He was head to toe covered in red and it would have dram attention. There was no way he could pass this off as a costume or that he had been attacked.

The police would have a field day. Still with that in mind, you didn’t question it.

You nodded a nonverbal clarification. "Alright. Just... be careful."

In a split decision, he climbed inside the car and clicked the door shut. It was so that no one else saw.

"I'm always careful. There's a line people are foolish enough to cross and it's not even a fine one. There's a debt to be paid and I'm going to collet it personally."

He brushed the tips of his fingers over the swelling part of your cheek and eye. "No one touches you and has hands to touch themselves with afterwards."

It shouldn't have been as romantic as it was. "I knew you would come for me."

"Always."

He pressed his lips over the knuckles of your right hand and climbed back out, speaking indistinct able words to Uraume who climbed in once he left.

There was only one way this was going to end, and worrying over it was only natural. Especially when your adrenaline started to wear off and the weight of everything came down on you like a ton of bricks.

Those who crossed Sukuna never had the chance to even think about doing it a second time.

[anthurak]

Something I was always a little concerned about in the lead-up to Hazbin Hotel was that Charlie was going to be a bit too passive of a character, ie; leaning only into the ‘kind, optimistic Disney-Princess-in-Hell who just wants to help everyone’ vibe and not really have much else going on as a character. Which in turn would make her feel kind of bland next to the big, over-the-top or dramatic personalities like Angel Dust and Alastor.

But thankfully, that is not what happened and there’s actually a lot that I like about what the writers are doing with Charlie, particularly in the potential future development and reveals they seem to be setting up.

First off, I like how Charlie generally comes off more like an over-the-top caricature of that ‘Disney-Princess-in-Hell’ vibe, ie; SUPER energized, enthusiastic, affectionate and emotional, often to overbearing degrees that get on everyone’s nerves. It’s generally funny, or at least amusing, and lets Charlie stand out alongside the other big personalities in the cast. Funny enough, she’s actually a lot like Blitzo in this regard, minus the seesawing into extreme abrasiveness.

And more importantly, we’ve already gotten major hints all but confirming that this over-the-top personality is largely a façade, and that Charlie actually has some very clear issues and baggage that she’s working VERY hard to keep buried beneath the surface. Again, much like Blitzo.

Like how in the trust-fall exercise in episode three, despite asking everyone to reveal something personal, Charlie actually bullshits just as hard as Angel Dust and Sir Pentious with her whole ‘I love you all!’ bit. Sure, it’s not like she was lying or being insincere, but it’s clear that was NOT something truly personal for Charlie. And in episode 4 we have Husk straight-up calls out Charlie as ‘wanting to solve everyone’s problems but her own’.

Then of course we have the brief glimpses we’ve seen of Charlie getting angry. Both the times we’ve seen Charlie dealing with some truly despicable and horrendous characters, we’ve seen that rather than lacking the ability to get angry, Charlie is often working to hold herself back. In both her encounters with Adam and Valentino we see points where Charlie is clearly NOT intimidated or afraid of them at all and seems fully prepared to throw down, only being stopped by reigning herself in or by someone else (in this case Angel) stopping her.

Again, it all paints Charlie’s big, bubbly, hyperactive exuberance as something of a front, a way for her to bury a lot of thoughts, feelings and general baggage she doesn’t want to face. Just like what the show has already explored with Angel and Husk.

It actually raises some interesting questions as to what’s REALLY driving Charlie in running the hotel and trying to help Sinners. For one, Husk has already pegged Charlie as ‘wanting to solve everyone’s problems but her own’. And going back to thematic crossover with Helluva Boss, I can’t help but see some potential parallels between Charlie creating the Hazbin Hotel, and Blitzo creating Immediate Murder Professionals.

I think it’s pretty clear at this point that half the reason for creating I.M.P. was as a coping mechanism for Blitzo, or rather the assassination business in general. Something that we’ve gotten hints to as early as the second episode in Blitzo’s back and forth with the Robo-Fizz (“Does anyone love you, Blitzo?”/“No. But I’m really good with guns now!”). With the other half of the reason Blitzo created I.M.P. clearly seems to be to create a surrogate family, as seen with how much he tries to insert himself in the M&M’s lives. Possibly even a specific attempt to replace the family he unwittingly destroyed fifteen years ago.

So I really have to wonder if we’re going to find out that Charlie creating the hotel and her goal of redeeming sinners is in part likewise a coping mechanism and escape for her own baggage.

It’s actually really interesting how episode two first introduced the idea of people opening up with Sir Pentious, then episode four dived further into the concept of the walls and fake personas people put up to hide from their pain and trauma with Angel Dust and Husk. With those two opening up and starting to let their walls down to each other, and by extension we the audience, I think it makes Charlie’s own façade all the more noticeable. It’ll be pretty interesting if Charlie actually winds up being the toughest nut to crack when it comes to opening up about their real issues and baggage. Yet another interesting trait she shares with Blitzo.

All in all, I’m really liking what the show has been doing with Charlie as a protagonist. And I’m REALLY interested to see where the story is going to take her.

Particularly what’s going to happen when she reaches a breaking point…

[sadiestarrs]

To Meet A Jinx

this is part one!!

Warnings: none :)) just one mention of a gun

A/N: this is my first arcane/ jinx fic so if it's terrible I'm sorry lol

Plot: You work for Silco and his infamous adopted daughter Jinx, except you’ve never met her until now.

Word count: 1,535

Everybody in the city knew about Silco’s insane, blue-haired, and seemingly manic daughter, Jinx. Working for him meant that you were around his henchmen 24/7 and they definitely talked about her.

Most things said about her ranged from the fact that she looked innocent but could blow your face off or that she did actually blow someone's face off that day.

You had heard Sevika complain, too, especially on shipment days. They were always the busiest and most stressful. Silco made sure to have his trusted members on the ship “just to be safe”. 

He had no reason to make everyone work, mostly because he had Jinx. Everyone knew that she could take on twenty people double her size and still win. You hadn’t seen her do anything remotely close to this but it wasn’t hard to believe.

When more than half of a city knows you for being a bloodthirsty killer, of course, they would be weary. But you still weren’t that convinced.

Some older workers talked about a young Jinx running into Silco’s arms with him hugging back and taking her in immediately. Silco didn’t look like the type of guy to appreciate hugs from anyone but it was clear he loved Jinx. And that had to be for a reason.

“I want you to keep an eye on those two,” Sevika says to you, directing people carrying crates. The two men she pointed at were getting on each other's nerves, shoving and bumping one another for no reason. They must have had other issues away from work. 

Your main job was to solve disputes and help Sevika. It didn’t take much but when there were problems, they were always big.

The two guys had moved out of sight and started bothering each other again, causing commotion and yelling. Before you could get around to them, three shipments were falling on the floor, creating a bright purple pool on the ground. 

Everyone had started shoving, making it too much to handle. People were on the floor, glass was being shoved into the soles of your shoes, and most importantly, nearly 500 coins worth of shimmer had been wasted.

Sevika was definitely going to blame you and no one would fess up. You couldn’t even get to the core of the fight before being shoved to the floor and cutting your hand on a large shard of glass.

It didn’t take much to lose all hope for the future. Not only would Silco fire you, but he would make you pay one way or another. None of those things were appealing, especially considering the fact that you desperately wanted to leave this chapter of your life behind. But not before getting a bit of cash and ditching Zaun.

You were sitting helpless, contemplating your life when a shot was fired. It was hard to see through the crowd but it stopped everyone, all the men scattering and moving away.

In front of you was a, surprisingly short, girl, braids nearly touching the floor, holding a revolver and looking around the ship.

No one made eye contact with her. No one went near her. They all went back to their original places as if the fight never happened.

Jinx.

Just her presence alone was enough to make everyone nervous. You hadn’t even realised that you were still sitting on the floor when she came towards you, holding the gun’s handle out. 

It took you a few seconds before realising that she was helping you up. It was enough to make the workers stop. From the corner of your eye, Sevika stood, arms folded, looking at the both of you. You could have sworn that she was laughing when you held on and got up. 

It brought you extremely close to her face, enough to see her baby-blue eyes glimmer. A smile pokes from the side of her mouth. She stood, analysing your face, eyes, lips. You couldn’t move if you tried, she had hypnotised you.

“What the hell is happening here?”

Silco appeared, frozen on the spot. “I spend half of my life working to make life better for all of you and I’m paid with this?”

It was almost symbolic, the liquid sitting under his shoes, mixing with the dirt and mud on the ground and turning into a deeper purple.

“Jinx?” He looks at her but she doesn’t deviate from you. Her body was rigid, completely cornering you.

Confusion was apparent in his expression, looking over at Sevika who only replies with a smirk.

“Jinx!”

Another glimmer appears in her eyes just before she turns around and walks past Silco, no words said.

No one moves or says anything but everyone was looking at you. Sevika pushes off of the wall she was leaning on, leaving the ship, still laughing.

If it wasn’t for your increased heartbeat, you would have questioned the event but too much had happened. Why did she help you up? Why did she analyse you? Why did she ignore Silco?

The questions rushed to your head faster than you could comprehend and faster than you could move after Silco ordered you to go with him. 

He simply pointed, and yelled, “You!” starting to walk faster than you could keep up with. 

______________________________________

“What relationship do you have with Jinx?”

Standing in front of Silco in his office with Sevika next to him was never a place you imagined to be. It almost felt like being in a principal’s office and getting scolded.

You didn’t have a “relationship” with Jinx. You had only met her a few minutes ago on the ship. Everything that happened was unplanned and, frankly, strange. And being interrogated by both of them didn’t help.

“I-I don’t have a relationship with her.” The words were staggered and hard to come out. Your heart had only slowed by a few beats but you could still feel it against your skin.

“That isn’t what I saw. Jinx doesn’t do things like that, meaning that you must have something to do with her.” 

His reasoning didn’t make any sense. Just because she looked at you for a few minutes doesn’t mean that anything happened. 

“Jinx is like a daughter to me. I would hate to have anything happen to her.” Silco continues talking, fiddling with his shimmer eye injection tool. It was nice seeing how much he cared for Jinx but in the end, nothing would happen between you two for a multitude of reasons.

Besides, Jinx didn’t seem like the type to be in a relationship. She was probably too busy blowing things up and creating gadgets.

“You’ll keep your distance. If it wasn’t for her you’d be paying for the lost shimmer right now. Don’t come in next week.”

If it wasn’t for her? Did Jinx help you? What could she have said to make Silco excuse you? You couldn’t walk out of his office quickly enough when he finished. It had turned into a hotbox with his continuous smoking, and you desperately needed air.

Just as you walk down the stairs to leave through the Last Drop, there she was, sitting at the bar and leaning dangerously far back.

“Heya toots!”

She springs up, walking towards you and trapping you in a tight hug at the waist. It was a stark difference from only an hour ago.

“Hi,” you say, walking down the stairs and stopping, awkwardly waiting for her to speak.

“Sorry about earlier, I just couldn’t take my eyes off of you.” You tell her that it’s no problem, trying to ignore the comment and your heartbeat increasing again. “Thanks for helping me with Silco.” 

She shrugs, crossing both arms behind her back. “Yeah, he gets like that sometimes.” You both stand in the awkward silence. Luckily, the bar was empty but it was surprisingly chilly. All you wanted was to leave and try to forget everything that just happened.

“I’ve been watching you for a while. You seem pretty cool.”

The compliment was nice and well-intentioned but the more you thought about it, the more worried you became. She watched you? 

“Would you wanna go out sometime? It doesn’t have to be out out, but somewhere we can talk.”

All you could do was nod. It was stupid in hindsight. Silco had just spent twenty minutes telling you to stay away from her and but here you were, practically agreeing to go on a date. 

“Cool! I’ll see you here tomorrow!”

Here? Tomorrow? It was too soon and too close to Silco. Whether he would be out or not, Sevika and other henchmen would be nearby, not to mention all of Silco’s other enemies. It was all a bad idea. 

But you still agreed. It would be nice to talk to someone new. And you were sure that saying no would have a painful consequence.

Jinx smiles again, hugging you once more before disappearing up the stairs, leaving you standing at the bottom of the steps.

“Good luck.” You look behind the bar and see Chuck emerge from underneath the counter.

 “She’s a crazy one.”

[absurdthirst]

The Songbird and the Spaniard {Pero Tovar x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 13K

Warnings: Mafia AU, 1960s, threats of violence, greed card marriage, mentions of communism (McCarthy-ism era), violent assault, anger, rough sex, loss of virginity, communication issues, mentions of infidelity, confessions, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex

Comments: Pero Tovar has a problem, he's being deported. So he solves it by threatening you to marry him. A marriage for a green card, quickly complicated by the possessiveness of the mob boss and the rough taking of your virginity.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

The lounge is reminiscent of a 1920’s jazz club. It was the vibe that he wanted and what Pero Tovar wanted, he got. The velvet cushions on the chairs were always bearing the weight of people who wanted to come and have a good time. To gamble, smoke, drink and sometimes fuck in a club that was taboo because it had rumored ties to the mafia. Only people that know that it’s true are the people that work there. As one of the headliner singers, you are well aware of how dangerous the man you work for is, and you despise him. 

You smile at the crowd as you sing, your nerves fading as you serenade the drinkers, the gamblers, the lovers. You have been working at the club for a few years, hired by William, and you love it. The 60’s is in full swing and your mini dress sways around your thighs as you sing. Pero is sitting at the booth in the back, his dark eyes crinkling as he laughs at something William says to him, whiskey in his hand and cigarette in the other. “Boss. There’s a man here for you.” Rita, the coat check comes over to Pero, nervous since he has been cold to her since he fucked her a few nights ago in the cloak room. 

“Why don’t you send him over?” Pero asks, tapping his cigarette on the side of the ashtray. Rita nods and gestures for the man to come over. The man sits, setting his hat down on the table, “you’re a hard man to find Pero Tovar.” He says and Pero narrows his eyes slightly. “And who has been looking for me?” 

The man chuckles, “my name is Mr. Taylor. You’ve received letter upon letter from US immigration. You’re being deported. You arrived from Spain in 1937 as a refugee from Franco but you have failed to disclose if you’re a communist. You have ten days to book your ticket from the US otherwise we will remove you ourselves.”

Pero growls, stubbing out his cigarette and leaning over to grab the wad of cash out of his pocket. “How much to stay?” He demands. “I am no communist, I’m a business owner. This club.” He tells the bureaucratic prick. “I cannot go back to Spain, my life is here.”

Mr. Taylor snorts, “no amount of money will fix this. You have evaded me for too long. You have a week to get your affairs in order before I come back to escort you to your plane. I cannot be bought. We cannot have a communist here and you have not applied for citizenship. You will be leaving the US next week.” Mr. Taylor says as he stands up and hands the letter to Tovar. “One week. I’ll see you here or you will be arrested and detained.” He says before he spins on his heel and exits the club.

“Fuck.” Pero hisses, itching to reach for his gun but it would only make matters worse. William, knowing his friend and business partner, reaches over to take the gun from him under the table so none of the guests will see. “I told you that you shouldn’t ignore the letters.” He snorts, shaking his head and smirking slightly as Lin Mae watches from her sit across the room. His lovely bride is the security for the place and is far better at keeping the peace than even the threat of the mafia. “It’s an easy fix.” He tells the Spaniard easily. “Marry a citizen. Then you can stay.”

Your eyes find Pero and William, a man walking away from their booth, and you see the thunderous look on Pero’s face. He’s pissed off. You smile against the microphone, loving to see Pero not getting his way for once. The band finishes the song and you smile at the applause. “Thank you. I’m going to take a break but I’ll be back in five.” You announce and step off of the stage to walk over to the bar, ordering your vodka soda.

“What about Rita?” William suggests, the bastard laughing at the entire situation and making Pero want to smash his fist into his perfectly straight teeth. “Fuck no,” Pero snorts, motioning for the waitress for his section to bring him another whiskey when his eyes land on you. “Bitch’ll think that I really want to marry her and spit out babies.” He had avoided her after she had been clingy after the fuck in the coat closet, he doesn’t like that kind of shit.

“Thanks, Frank.” You smile at the bartender who  hands you your drink. You sit down on the stool and have a sip, glancing around at the club. It’s busy for a Wednesday but not as busy as the weekend. “What about…?” William jerks his chin over to the bar where you are sitting. “She definitely doesn’t want to have your babies.”

Pero snorts, his eyes sliding along the sleek lines of your dress and caresses every curve hungrily. “She would rather cut my heart out with a spoon.” He grunts, admiring the hatred you seem to harbor for him. It just makes him want you more. To possess you and watch you spit and hiss under him until you start to moan and writhe in pleasure. “That’s perfect.”

You set your empty glass down and make your way back to the stage but before you make it, Tovar steps in front of you. “Excuse me, Tovar. I need to get back on stage.” You huff, wondering what your boss wants. He’s been chasing Rita around the club lately so you don’t know why he is stopping you from getting back to your set. “I need to talk to you in my office.” He grunts and you roll your eyes, “don’t you want me back on stage?” His dark eyes stare at you, showing he’s not interested in an argument and you huff again. “Fine.” You stride onto the stage, whispering to the guitarist to keep playing until you come back. “Boss wants to see me.” You explain and Rico waggles his eyebrows. "As if." You wrinkle your nose and make your way off the stage, down the hall to Pero's office.

Sitting behind his desk, Pero wonders exactly what he needs to say to get you to marry him. Hating that he finds himself in this damned situation, but he needs to stay. He hasn’t been to Spain in nearly thirty years, his home is here and he’s not leaving.

“You know, I was in the middle of a set. William won’t be happy that I’m not out there getting the old men horny so they buy more booze.” You shut the door behind you to see what he wants.

“This is more important.” Pero motions to the chair in front of the desk and makes a show of pulling his gun out from the holster at the small of his back and setting it on the desk before he lights up a cigarette and stares at you for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to tell you. Being blunt is his nature and he decides to go with that. “You will need to be here tomorrow at ten in the morning in a white dress.” He orders, pointing at you with the cigarette held hand. “We are getting married.”

You stare at him for several seconds. “You’re fucking joking, right?” You choke. He stares back at you and you laugh, throwing your head back. Your chortles echo off of the walls of his office until you notice he’s not joking. “You’re not joking.” You choke again, “you’re not joking. Why- what the hell, Tovar? Explain.” You demand, shifting closer to his desk.

“You want to keep your job?” Pero growls, shooting you a dark look. “Fuckers from immigration are trying to deport me. You’re a citizen. We get married, I can stay and you can keep singing in my club.” He snorts. “And I don’t have to worry about you wanting to stay married after I get my green card.”

You shake your head, “I could go and get another job in another club. It’s the 60s. Women have freedom. I don’t have to be married and shoved into a kitchen anymore. I could easily get another job.” You scoff, unable to believe he has the gall to demand you marry him. Pero picks up his gun and aims it at you, making your eyes widen, “you can’t easily get another life.” Your stomach twists at the look in his eyes, cold and emotionless like he could pull the trigger and carry on about his day. If you don’t do what he wants, you’re dead. “O-okay. I- I- I’ll do it.” You whisper, eyes still fixed on the gun that you know has killed many men.

It should upset him that you would believe that he would shoot you, but it doesn’t. He’s getting his way and that’s all that matters. “Tomorrow.” He growls, slowly setting the gun down. “We get married so that prick can kiss my ass when he comes back to try to kick me out.” He smirks and takes a drag off his cigarette. “You can go finish your songs now.”

You narrow your eyes at him, knowing that you’ll do everything you can to make his life hell when you’re his wife. He doesn’t know what he’s signed himself up for. You won’t be some little wife cooking his meals and cleaning his apartment. You stand up and spin on your heel, not saying another word as you leave his office and go back to the stage but not before grabbing another glass of vodka soda. 

****

You sigh as you stand there, the only white dress you own goes down to your calves and it sways as you stand in the club, waiting for Pero who is late. He walks in and you huff,  “you’re late.” He chuckles and you hate that you like how he looks in the blue suit with his hair slicked back. He looks good. “I had to celebrate my last night of freedom.” He smirks and you scoff, “like you’re not going to fuck every whore from here to Harlem anyway.” You shake your head and grab your purse, “can we get this over with?”

“Eager to be my wife, hermosa?” There are witnesses milling around, so Pero grabs your waist and hauls you close to him. He can see the way your eyes widen slightly, your breath catching in surprise. You’re scared of him and while it might annoy him later, right now it’s useful. “Don’t worry, soon you’’ll be mi esposa and I will have you in bed screaming my name.” In order for Pero to stay, immigration must believe that the marriage is real, so he’s already sent guys over to your apartment to pack it up. You will come live with him.

“Screaming to get away from you.” You whisper, knowing you need to sell this otherwise you’ll be going to jail and he will be deported. Or you’ll be killed. His arms tighten around your waist in warning. You lean in to caress his cheek. He’s shaved and you press your lips to his cheek, your eyes open as you do it. “Let’s go get hitched.” You say with a smile on your face but your eyes burn into his.

The entire process is fairly simple, and it doesn’t take long before the two of you are standing in front of a magistrate. Pero holding you close and plastering a happy look on his normally dower face to prove that he’s wanting to do this and not just stay in the country.

You recite your vows, your hands on his and you are surprised when you see the ring he slides onto your finger. You didn’t imagine he’d have one and he hands you the one for you to slide onto his left hand. The magistrate declares you husband and wife and you don’t get a chance to prepare yourself as he leans in to press his lips to yours.

Your lips are soft, much softer than he imagined and the surprise parting them allows him to take complete control and kiss you like he wants to. His tongue sweeps into your mouth to take possession and map the inside with strong, determined strokes while your fingers dig into the jacket of his suit.

Your mind blanks when he kisses you so thoroughly. You never imagined him to be such a good kisser and you are disappointed when he pulls back until he offers you a cocky smirk that makes you barely refrain from glaring at him. After you sign the marriage certificate and Pero hands over some money, “to expedite this beautiful creature having my last name,” you leave the courthouse. “So, I guess I’ll wait until we meet with the immigration agent. I’ll see you at work.” You say, adjusting your purse and spinning on your heel to get away from him.

Pero snorts and grabs your arm, dragging you back against him. “Where are you going?” He demands. “I cannot have someone thinking this marriage is a sham.” You snort but he smirks at you. “My men are packing up your dresses and panties, hermosa. You live with me.”

Your eyes widen, “living with you? Fuck no.” You hiss and he shakes his head, “you have no choice. Unless you want to be six feet under.” His smile drops and you swallow harshly, “fine but I get my own room. I’m not sleeping with you. Or fucking you.” You growl, pressing your chest against his to show him he can’t control you.

While he might not have expected you to fuck him, Pero doesn’t like rejection. He likes to be the one to call the shots. Grabbing your chin, he hisses at you, his dark eyes narrowing in annoyance. “Who said I wanted you?” He spits. “I like soft women, warm and pliant, not a cunt so cold it would freeze my dick off.”

You wince at the way he grips your chin, keeping you close to him. “You have plenty of options you can pay for.” You hiss at him, “you can’t buy me. I’m doing this to stay alive.” You remind him, “let’s go. I want to change out of this dress and prepare for my set tonight.”

Pero lets go of your chin and snorts as he steps back from you. “That’s right.” He straightens his suit jacket and pins you with a dark look, almost glaring at you. “Remember who you are married to now.” He warns you. “I won’t tolerate you being a whore while you wear that ring.”

You want to spit back at him that you’re a virgin. You wanted to give yourself to the man you love but it looks like that won’t be happening anytime soon. You snort, “you don’t own me.” You try to rebel even under the dire circumstances. “That’s where you’re wrong, esposa. I do.” Pero declares and you huff, striding off to his waiting car without looking back at him.

Pero watches you walk away, admiring your ass and hissing between his teeth. You’ve made it very clear that you cannot stand him, yet out of all the women at the club, you are the one he craves. To tame you, temper you. Or maybe he just likes the spit and vinegar you give him, instead of just falling to his feet. Now he has you in name, but he cannot touch you.

You slide into the car and Pero follows, immediately lighting up a smoke when the car pulls away from the curb. “Can you open the window?” You ask and he rolls his eyes, rolling down the window but he exhales away from you. When you arrive at his apartment building, you’re impressed. It’s in a nice part of town. Certainly nicer than your place in Brooklyn, and you sigh when the driver opens your door after he pulls up to the curb. You walk in and the doorman greets you. “Harold, this is my new wife.” Pero introduces you, the cigarette long snubbed out but the smoke clings to his jacket. “Wife?” Harold is shocked and you lean into Pero to sell it, “we wanted to keep it private, you know, because of the baby.” You say, sliding your hand down to your belly and Pero hisses through his smile. “Come on, esposa, let’s get you settled.” He says and his grip on your waist tightens as you head into the elevator. “What the fuck did you say that for?” He growls and you giggle, leaning against the wall. “Wanted to have some fun.” You smirk and Pero shakes his head, “he’s going to know when you don’t get bigger.” He points out and you shrug, “shit happens. He doesn’t need to know.”

Pero lets go of you and stares at the numbers on the elevator as it goes up. Annoyed that you caused more drama than you needed to. Starting to regret this, but then he remembers that he has to have you as his wife, for his future here in America. “Mierda.” He hisses to himself and sighs when the door opens on the top floor, the penthouse suite of the building. “Home sweet home, esposa.”

Your eyes widen as you step out of the elevator, a view of Central Park ahead of the floor to ceiling windows and you are in awe of the luxury he lives in. "No wonder you don't want to leave." You murmur, taking note of the expensive furniture. You walk into the living room and find the door to the kitchen, gasping at the beautiful appliances and space that is almost the same size as your apartment. "Oh, I want to cook in here." You squeal, excited by the fridge and the top of the range stove.

Pero smirks, shucking his jacket as he listens to you go through the kitchen, exclaiming over the latest modern appliances. Even the microwave with the turntable and an electric can opener. He chuckles at your change of attitude but he doesn’t point out that it’s a wife’s job to make meals for her husband, knowing you wouldn’t appreciate that.

You turn to look at Pero as he walks over to the bar cart, "you want a drink?" He asks and you nod, "gonna need one after this morning." You take the glass of whiskey after Pero pours it into a crystal glass. You take a sip, "so where is my room?" You ask and he doesn't say a word as he escorts you down the hall to your bedroom, your things already there. "How did you- never mind." You scoff, knowing he's powerful enough to move mountains...just not regarding his immigration status.

He had anticipated you asking how the hell your things are all here, but you apparently figured it out. He smirks slightly and pulls out a key from his pocket to set it down on the table near the door. “This gives you access to the penthouse.” He tells you. “Don’t lose it.”

You turn to look at Pero after he sets the key down, “I won’t lose it.” You promise and he stares at you. Those dark brown eyes. If he wasn’t such a demanding asshole who chased women, you’d want him, but he’s too wild to tame. “I’m going to settle in.” You declare, hoping he gets the hint, and he does. You shut the door behind him and sit down on the bed. Your ring catches the light and you wonder what the hell you’ve gotten yourself into.

It’s strange to have a woman in his apartment. He never has before. Not to sleep. His liaisons normally happened at the club or a lesser apartment he kept for activities, preferring to keep his actual home for himself. He pours himself another drink and listens to you start to move things around in your room and he huffs to himself. Deciding that he should just go back to the club and work so he won’t dwell on the fact that he has a wife and a sham marriage.

****

When you arrive at the club, Tovar is already there. He left hours ago and you thought you had to figure out how to get to the club on your own but you’re soon told by the doorman that there’s a car waiting for you. You arrive at the club and walk in, his ring on your hand, and your head high when you see Pero talking to the bartender, a glass of whiskey in his hand. You walk over to him, “hello, husband.” You greet him, wondering if he’s told the rest of the staff about his new status.

Pero lifts a brow, unsure if you were wishing for the staff to know and glances back at the bartender to see his reaction. “Vodka soda for my wife.” He grunts at the man. “Twist of lime.” He knows your drink, watching you more often than you realize and turn back towards you. “I’ve moved your set up.” He tells you. “You’re performing first tonight.”

“Why?” You huff, knowing that the crowd is always difficult for the first person on stage. He has the jazz trio who usually go first and they warm up the crowd for you. You hate being first. Frank hands you your drink, his eyes flicking down to the ring on your hand and he raises his eyebrows. You shake your head and sip the drink, turning back towards your husband for his answer.

Of course you would be annoyed. “So you can leave early.” He had thought he was doing you a favor, letting you leave the smoky club before the wee hours of the morning when you normally finish, but you aren’t appreciative.

You huff, knowing he only wants you to leave early so he can chase Rita or one of the cocktail waitresses around. “Fine. I’ll go on first.” You down the rest of your drink and make your way to the stage, speaking with the band who are confused that you’re up first. “Boss’s orders.” You tell them and a few minutes later, you’re singing. You can feel his eyes on you, watching you from the front row. It’s not Pero watching you. It’s another man. His eyes burning into you, licking his lips as you croon to the song. You try to ignore him, finishing up the first set and you make your way over to the bar for another drink. 

“You sing beautifully.” A voice coos in your ear and you turn your head to see the man from the front row of tables. “Thank you.” You offer him a polite smile and he leans closer. “Can I get you a drink?” He asks and you hold up your still full glass. “Already got one.” He nods, “maybe when you’re done with that.” He gestures to Frank to get him another round. “So…what’s a beautiful woman like you, doing singing in a club? You should be in an expensive home, my home, having my babies.” He smirks, thinking you should be fawning over him but you wrinkle your nose. 

“I have a rich husband.” You flash your ring at him and he grabs your hand, “that’s a piece of tin. I could get you a bigger rock. And a bigger cock.” He chuckles, his other hand finding your back and his palm slowly slides down until it’s on your ass.

Pero had watched from his booth until the stranger had ordered you a drink. Growling under his breath when the bastard sends you a cocky smirk that makes him get up and start striding over to you. Feeling jealous and territorial over you, even if you are only his wife on paper. You flash him the ring but the bastard just scoffs. His mistake is when he touches you, making Pero see red as the hand reaches your ass and he decides he will break every one of the bastard’s fingers. Not bothering with niceties, he grabs his hand off your ass, not saying a word until the man turns in surprise and then cries out in pain when Pero snaps his wrist before letting go and slamming his fist into his smug face. “Didn’t your mamá teach you not to touch another man’s wife?” He growls, grabbing his neck and slamming his face into the bar before he can react, spewing blood everywhere. “My wife.”

You stumble back in shock, eyes wide at the blood splattering on the counter and Pero doesn’t stop. He gestures to Frank, “get it for me.” He demands and Frank nods, not hesitating to grab the hammer from under the counter. Tovar grabs the hand that touched you, keeping it pinned to the counter and the man cries out in pain from his broken wrist. “You need to learn you should not touch what doesn’t belong to you, cabrón.” Pero growls and grabs the hammer, bringing it down on the fingers of the man who dared to touch you. You can’t breathe, can’t do anything but watch as the violence continues, your husband smashing the man’s digits with the hammer while he screams in agony. 

“Pero.” You choke out, knowing you shouldn’t say anything for fear of your own safety but you need to stop this before he kills him. “Enough. That’s enough.”

Pero doesn’t stop until he has smashed all five fingers with the hammer, aware that the music has stopped and everyone is gapping in horror at the scene. The man’s hand is mangled, bloodied - ruined. His dark eyes slide over to your terrified face but he looks back at the bastard who has pissed his pants as he sags against the bar. Pero drops the hammer and grabs his jacket lapels to yank him closer, ignoring the man’s whimpers of terror and begging for his life. He’s pathetic and no longer the cocky braggart of a few minutes earlier. “Touch her again and I will kill you.” Pero hisses. “Look at her and I will carve your eyes out of your skull.” Sobbing, the man shakes his head. “I won’t, I won’t, please- just- just let me go.” Pero grunts in disgust and pushes him away, letting him fall to the floor as his men surround him. “Get him out of here.” He growls and grabs your hand to drag you towards his office.

You let him drag you to his office, still in shock from the display of violence. You’ve seen hints of it. A punch here, a shove there, but you’ve never seen anything like that. Pero shuts the door behind you, his chest heaving and you stare at him. “Why did you do that? I had it under control.”

“His hand was on your ass and you had it under control?” Pero roars, grabbing you by the arms and pushing you against his desk. Crowding you with his body and trying to get himself under control but he’s failing. Losing his mind at the idea of that bastard touching you when not even he has touched your ass. “No one touches my wife.” He growls, crashing his lips to yours violently.

You should push him away, you should scream at him, but the possessive way he kisses you, the way he owns you. It has you pushing yourself against him, gripping the labels of his jacket as you kiss him back.

He would stop if you pushed him away. That’s what he tells himself as he grabs your hips and throws you up onto the surface of his desk. Hungry for you, his veins still swimming with violence and passion, fusing together and coming out as lust. His cock is already hard and he drags your panties down after pushing your slinky dress up to your waist. Pero’s tongue maps your mouth brutally and he swallows your moans and grunts as he unbuckles his belt with one hand, the other between your thighs and pushing two fingers inside your cunt.

Your cry echoes off the walls of his office as he pushes two thick digits into your shamefully wet pussy. You should push him away, tell him no, but you can’t. His display, his animalistic claim over you has you needing more and when his fingers curl in your pussy, you gush with need and desire for your newly minted husband. “Fuck me.” You beg, not knowing what you’re asking for other than to feel more of him.

Your words snap what little self control he has. Growling as he tears his lips away from yours, he bites along your jaw and down your throat as he pulls his cock out of his trousers, the same ones he had worn when he married you and slots himself between your thighs. He doesn’t ease into you, he can’t. He drives into you with one harsh, demanding thrust and groans your name as he claims you.

Your scream is smothered as you bury your face in his neck, the pain of his intrusion fading after a few moments but he doesn’t stop, pulling out to thrust into you without giving you a second but you cling to him. The pain fading and you moan when he starts to feel good as he moves inside of you.

“You’re mine.” He hisses in your ear. “My woman, my wife.” He knows that after this moment of insanity, you will be spitting and striking at him again, pushing him away. For now, right now, you are his to take. To protect. His lips continue to kiss and his teeth continue to nip your skin. Gorging himself on you while he fucks the tightest little cunt he’s ever had. Groaning your name when you flutter around him, it just makes him fuck you harder, the desk shaking under you from the intensity of his thrusts.

Your nails dig into his back as you slide your hands behind his back under his jacket. His cock pistons in and out of you, his eyes black as he stares at you, words of possession falling from his lips and you shouldn’t find this as hot as you do. He’s an animal but your walls are taking him eagerly, gushing around him with each moan of your name. Your hands let go of him and you lay back on his desk, arching your back as you knock the pen holder and papers from the surface, your eyes closing as the pleasure builds in your belly, his pelvis rubbing just right against your clit in this new angle.

You are gorgeous and pliant under him. Yielding to him in a way he never suspected and he can’t even stop to tell you how sexy you are. Grunting as he holds tight to your hips and uses you as an anchor. He watches you, wanting to push more of those moans out of your pretty mouth as he rocks into you. Looking down to watch his cock push in and out of your cunt, he twitches and ramps up the pace, knowing he will cum soon. 

Your hands find purchase of the edge of his expensive oak desk, your chest pushed up and heaving as he fucks you hard. Any venom you had for him seemed to leave your body as soon as he starts fucking you. Your thighs start to shake and he grabs them, pushing them back towards your stomach, sinking even deeper inside of you. “Oh shit!” You cry when he hits something indescribable inside of you. “To-Tovar. I’m going to - I think it’s-” You can barely speak as his hips hit the back of your thighs and seconds later, you’re clamping down on his cock.

He hisses, eyes rolling back as your walls grip his cock like a vice, feeling the tingle at the base of his spine. Happy that he had made you cum and soak his cock before his own orgasm. You are so tight around him that he can only give another three thrusts before he is pushing deep, kissing your womb with his cock as he starts to paint your walls with his seed. Grunting and groaning as he fills you. 

You open your eyes to watch him as he cums, jaw clenched and eyelashes fluttering on his cheeks as his cum fills you up. You relax, slumping on his desk as he rocks through it until he stops, his hands caressing up your thighs and you shift to sit up as soon as he pulls out. You stand on wobbly legs, his hands gripping your waist to steady you and you manage to pull together enough balance to bend down and grab your panties, pulling them up your legs to keep his cum from dripping down your thighs. “I should - I need to get back to my set.” You choke out. His hand comes to grab yours but you manage to evade his grip, “wait-” He says your name but you’re already slipping out of his office, heading to the bathroom to process the fact that you just had sex with your maniac boss who is now your husband.

Pero frowns as he stares at the door you had left opened, confused by the way you had just run away like he was the devil. You had told him to fuck you, begged him, and now you couldn’t get away from him fast enough. Clenching his jaw, he tucks his cock away and looks down at his hand, the skin bruised on his knuckles from where he punched that asshole. “Hijo de puta.” He hisses, storming out of the office in need of a drink.

You step back on stage after you clean yourself up, another drink in hand, and you are starting your song as Pero stalks through the club to sit in the booth where William is. Your voice seems boxy in your ears as you try to focus on your performance but you’re constantly watching Pero. You shouldn’t have given in to him. Nothing good can come of it. He will be on to the next shiny thing when he’s done with you. When he got what he wanted: his citizenship.

“You made a scene.” Willam comments as Pero downs his first drink and then motions to Rita to quickly bring him another. He cuts his eyes back over at his friend and reaches out to take the Irishman’s drink. “So?” He grunts and William smirks. “Because he touched her?” He asks, making Pero growl, “she’s my wife. You would have killed him if she was Lin Mae.” That comment just makes the other man laugh even more. 

“So why is she watching you now and you are drinking like you are trying to forget?” He asks as the waitress brings another drink over with a sultry smile for the Spaniard that he completely ignores. She pouts as she saunters off and Pero stares down at his drink for a moment before he answers. “Fucked her.” he admits, tossing back the drink in one gulp.

William keeps his expression neutral to not tip you off since you’re watching but his eyes widen slightly, “you fucked her? You know…shit, brother. She’s not the type you fuck and walk away from.” William shakes his head and Pero snorts, slamming the glass on the table. “She walked away from me. Left before I could even tuck my cock away.” 

William sighs, “you better know what you’re doing. She’s not the kind of woman you fuck around. Not like Rita. She’s too good for you.”

His eyes find you up on the stage again, crooning into the microphone and he sighs. “I know it, cabrón.” He admits quietly. “I’ve always known it, that’s why I wanted her.” He pushes his drink away and leans back in his booth, watching you from the shadows as he was meant to do. You had the spotlight on you, he lived in darkness. He had let the darkness touch you because of his own greed and he couldn’t do that again. Not when you wanted to leave just as soon as he got his green card.  

You finish your set and take your place at the bar again, ordering a club soda, no vodka. You need a clear head. Pero doesn’t come over to the bar, and thankfully no one else does. You see Rita rush down the hall to Pero’s office and sigh, knowing that she will always be in his head. She’s a good time and you’re…complicated. When you don’t see Pero, you decide to head home. Grabbing your purse, you figure you’ll use the subway, leave the car for Tovar since he will probably be home late. You have a bath after you arrive back at his penthouse, soaking in the tub with a cigarette to relax and clean yourself after he fucked you. You’re sore, aching, and the hot water does wonders.

“Come on baby- I can suck your cock.” Rita pouts and licks her lips as Pero pushes her away. He had gone to his office after your performance, not interested in watching the band and the clingy bitch had followed him inside. Obviously not getting the hint when he told her to bring him a drink from the bar, she continues to annoy him. Wanting more than he is willing to give. 

“I’m married.” Pero shakes his head, waving her towards the door. “I’m not fucking you again, or letting you suck my cock.” 

“Come on baby. Don’t be like that. She doesn’t have to know. Why the hell did you marry that cold bitch? You could’ve had me. Whenever you wanted. I would’ve given you the world. Kids. Blowjobs.” She smirks, shifting to sit on his desk. “All you have to do is ask and I’ll be yours. You can keep your little wife but I want to be your whore.”

Pero narrows his eyes dangerously, pissed off that she would insult you. “Get the fuck out of my office.” He hisses. “You’re fired.” Her mouth drops open in shock and she gasps. “What? Pero- baby-” Slamming his fist on the desk, he shoots out of his chair. “Get out!” He shouts, making her flinch in fear. “Don’t ever fucking come back!”

She scrambles off of his desk, knowing the look in his eyes is one to not be fucked with. He’d never hurt a woman, his mamá would smack him from her grave, but Rita doesn’t know that as she rushes out of the office, getting her purse and practically sprinting out of the club in tears.

William walks into his office right after Rita runs out, staring at Pero like he’s lost his mind. “Tell me you didn’t-” He starts but the Spaniard cuts him off. “Fire her? Yes, I did.” He grunts, gathering his papers and stuffing them into a rarely used briefcase. “Cut her last check, pay her cash, I don’t fucking care, but she doesn’t set foot back in his club again.” 

William nods, “I’ll get the guys to give her cash. Jesus Christ, my friend. You have got it bad. You need to get this under control before you lose it all. Go talk to her. I’ll make sure everything is closed up here.”

He grunts, sure that his friend is being over dramatic. He’s not going to lose anything. Because of his marriage to you, he will be able to keep what he’s worked hard to build. Still, he nods and strides out of his office, needing to get home and find out why the fuck you ran away from him.

You are in a robe, preparing a cup of tea when Pero arrives home. Much earlier than you thought he would, and he sets his briefcase down on the kitchen counter. “Rita didn’t take long then.” You snort, pouring out the hot water from the kettle as Pero stands there.

He ignores the barb that you throw at him, watching as you make yourself a cup of tea. “You left without letting me know.” He grunts, wondering why you get under his skin as much as you do. Looking softer than you had before, he likes this look on you.

You turn to look at him, “I figured you were busy and I didn’t want to disturb you. I saw Rita heading into your office so I didn’t want to walk in on something I don’t want to see.” You shake your head, turning back to your tea, putting the tea bag in. “Do you need something?” You ask, not looking back over at your new husband.

He frowns at your back, unsure why you keep bringing up Rita like he was still fucking the girl. It was one time. “She’s gone.” He announces, “fired.” Moving over to the cabinet, he gets out another tea cup for himself since you didn’t offer him a cup.

You feel guilty that she’s fired but then you remember how she would brag about sleeping with the boss. “You fired her? She - she used to say that she was sucking your cock every day.” You hand him a tea bag, unable to be too cold to not help him with a cup of tea.

Pero snorts and pours the still hot water from the kettle into his cup and adds the tea bag with two cubes of sugar. “I fucked her one time. In the coat room.” He admits. “She didn’t suck my cock everyday and when she pushed me to fuck her tonight, I fired her.”

You shake your head, knowing you shouldn’t care. Not this much. “Why? She was offering herself to you on a platter. Most men would have taken it.” You stir your tea, looking down at the cup. 

“I’m not most men. I’m married.” 

You frown and look at him, “I never expected you to be faithful.” 

He scoffs, “my mamá would kill me. She taught me that you don’t hit women, you don’t cheat on your wife, and you protect what’s yours.” Your eyebrows raised, shocked at the way he has more morality than most men around. “I- I never would’ve - you seem like the type to love ‘em and leave ‘em.”

“When I was single, I fucked who I wanted.” He shrugged slightly and doesn’t mentioned that he wanted to fuck you and he had to marry you in order to do that. “While you had to marry me and despise me, I will not shame you with affairs.” He promises. “But I expect the same.” That is a warning for you and just a statement of fact. Anyone you slept with, he would kill.

You scoff, “you don’t need to worry about that. I’m not - that isn’t something I do. I was a virgin.” You confess and he frowns, “who did you lose your innocence to?” He asks, wondering why you’re telling him this. “You.” You whisper, staring at your cup of tea.

Pero freezes, dropping his spoon into his cup with a clatter and stares at you in horror. “I- you gave me your innocence on my fucking desk?” He rasps out, feeling horrible that he had not known nor shown you any kind of tenderness when he had touched you. “I- Mierda. I should have treated you better.”

You shake your head, “I didn’t protest and - and I wanted to see what all the fuss is about. I was saving myself for the man I love but with marrying you, it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen anytime soon so I figured I’d get it over with.” You shrug like it doesn’t mean anything.

Your words hit him like a bucket of water being dropped over his head. A stark reminder that you hate him. “Right.” He grunts, picking up his cup. “Now you know what it’s all about.” He spits before he turns and walks out of the kitchen stiffly.

You watch him leave and lean against the counter. You don’t know how you’re going to survive being married to Pero. He’s complicated and you regret your words. You sip your cup of tea and decide to take it back to your room. You’re Mrs. Tovar now and you will need to navigate your complicated faux marriage.

****

“I have to say that I’m surprised to see this.” Mr. Taylor’s lips are pressed thin in displeasure as he inspects the marriage certificate thoroughly, as if expecting to find it to be a forgery. “I was unaware you were engaged.” Pero arches a brow and leans back in his chair, taking this meeting in his office and blows a puff of smoke up into the air. “You did not ask.” He points out, his other arm wrapping around your waist and tugging you closer on the arm of his chair. “But you cannot deny I have taste.”

“You certainly do, Mr. Tovar.” Mr. Taylor says, his eyes trailing along your form and Pero pulls you closer, his possessive nature on display. “He’s too sweet.” You murmur, leaning in to press your lips to Pero’s turning his cheek to ensure you can kiss him properly. His tongue pushes into your mouth and you pull back a second later, pecking his lips. “So…this has become a green card situation. One that I find to be very convenient since this is dated after our meeting.” 

Mr. Taylor tilts his head as he looks at you, “would you say your husband is a communist?” He asks and you scoff, “a communist? Mr. Taylor, my husband escaped Spain to avoid being in Franco’s army. He is a pure patriot to our country. He loves America. He loves freedom. He would never be a commie. He abhors the very ideology.” You explain, shaking your head and Mr. Taylor hums, his eyes darting back to Pero. “Very well. It seems that things are in order but any word of you joining a local sector of the communist party or if I get a whiff of anything amiss, I’ll be back.” He promises, signing a piece of paper and handing it to Pero.

Pero snorts and snatches the paper away from the little prick. “Then it will be a pleasure to never see your face again.” He grunts. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

Mr. Taylor stands, packing up his briefcase and you offer him a hand, helping him pack up. “Thank you. My husband is very happy to stay here and I’m happy he is. Especially for our family.” You say, sliding your hand down to your stomach. “Congratulations.” The immigration officer says and makes a quick exit from Pero’s office. 

When he’s certain the man is gone, Pero tuts, “can you stop telling people you’re pregnant?” He huffs, taking another puff of his cigarette. “Why? It sealed the deal. He won’t deport the father of an American born baby.” You raise your eyebrows, “just selling our happy union, baby.” You coo sarcastically. Ever since that night that Pero took your virginity, you’ve barely talked. Just a few words here and there between meals and going to the club.

He snorts and shakes his head. He knows you aren’t pregnant, the box of feminine napkins in your bathroom making it clear you had bled since he had taken your innocence. He had been surprised to be disappointed by that knowledge but he hadn’t said a word. “I should get back to work.” He stubs out the cigarette and looks back down at the paper Mr. Taylor had left. “Are you singing the last set tonight?” He hadn’t taken charge of your times since that first night, giving you control over when you perform.

You nod, “yes. Me and the guys have been working on some new songs. I think the crowd will love them.” You say, grabbing your purse, “so I guess we will be divorced as soon as your green card comes in.” You walk out of his office before he responds, not wanting to hear the answer.

Slumping down into the chair, Pero hisses a curse and reaches for his cigarettes again. The silent stalemate between you two is apparently still ongoing and he doesn’t know what to do. He hates that you can’t wait to be away from him. Hates that you are counting down the days until you are no longer his wife.

You are nearly done with your set when your husband comes out of his office to sit down with William in their normal booth. He gestures for a drink to be brought over and you start the song you’ve been practicing with the guys. “Looking out to the morning rain.” You sing, your eyes sweeping across the crowd as you croon the song, “‘cause you make me feel like a natural woman.” You sing the line and look over at Pero.

His grip of his glass tightens as you seem to sing to him. Leaning forward and watching you with the intensity of a starving man hunting his dinner.  The low whistle beside him turns into an amused chuckle but he doesn’t take his eyes off of you. “Still obsessed with your wife, I see.” William teases Pero. “Have you told her you love her?” He asks, making the Spaniard snort. “She wouldn’t believe me.” He murmurs, still watching you as you continue to sing the ballad. “Waiting to divorce me.”

You finish the song to a roar of applause, your eyes still on Pero as he stares at you and your set is over. You take a bow and thank the band before you walk off the stage, making your way over to Frank to get another drink. You feel him before you see him, his body warm behind you as he leans over to snub his cigarette out in the ashtray on the counter. “Are you ready to go home?” You ask him, turning your head to look at your husband. You’ve been traveling back and forth together since that night you took the subway.

“Yes.” Pero nods and glances at the bartender to make sure he doesn’t need anything. “Are you changing, or wearing your dress home?” Some nights you want to change, some nights you want to get home as quickly as possible.

“I’ll wear it home. I’m ready to get out of here. It’s been a long day.” You tell him and he nods, getting one of the girls to grab your coat and purse while you finish your water. William comes over to bid you goodnight, “have fun, kids.” He winks and heads over to see his beautiful wife who is running security. You snort at the Irishman and Pero holds your coat up for you to slide your arms into it. "Thank you." You murmur and he nods, escorting you outside to his awaiting car. "Did you like the new set?" You ask when he is beside you, the streets passing by.

“It was moving.” He loved it, but he also hated it, knowing it wasn’t for him. You hate him and he’s honestly expecting you to quit the club after you divorce him. “The crowd loved it. You did a great job.”

“Thank you.” You murmur, looking out of the window. You wanted him to say he loved it. It was for him. During your time living with Pero, you’ve come to discover the smallest details about him. He donates money to the families of the neighborhood he lived in when he first came to the States. They are struggling so he helps them out. He has noticed what food and drinks you like, ensuring that the housekeeper has them stocked for you at all times, even your toiletries. He listens to the radio intensely, especially love ballads. Something you never expected. Each day, he chips away at the hatred you had for him and shows you the man he is beneath the harsh exterior, the shell he’s had to build to survive in this city. You could even dare say you’re falling for him. That’s what makes this so sad. He will ask you for a divorce as soon as he’s able and you’ll be back in your tiny apartment in Brooklyn wondering what could’ve been if this was real.

The drive is silent and Pero wishes you would say something. Even if it’s to rage at him. The politely stiff, cold semblance of manners between the two of you irritates him. Making him long for the days that you would rage and spit at him. He drums his fingers on the car door and sighs when it pulls up in front of the apartment building. Neither one of you speaks on the elevator, and when the doors open to the penthouse, you move to step out. “Are you hungry?” Pero asks, breaking the silence and making you turn towards him. “I’m hungry. Thinking about making something to eat.”

You nod, “yes. Starving. I didn’t eat lunch because I was rushing to get my hair done for when Mr. Taylor arrived. I wanted to look my best for him.” You confess, “and for you. As your wife…pretend wife.” You add, making your way through the penthouse to the kitchen after kicking off your heels in the hall.

He hates when you make little comments about being his pretend wife. Rubbing it in his face that you don’t want to be around him but he forced you to. Feeling guilty because you are so obviously unhappy even living in the most luxurious apartment he could give you. He follows you and shakes his head. “You go change.” He shrugs out of his suit jacket and starts to unbutton his sleeves. “I will make us dinner. I know you want to get out of your dress.” You told him once that you enjoy dressing up but you preferred being comfortable and he agrees with you. You look gorgeous in the shorts and little shirts you wear around the apartment. Liking it better when you wear no makeup.

“Thanks.” You make your way to your bedroom, taking off your jewelry and you reach behind you to try and pull down the zipper of your dress. You’d barely managed to get it on earlier in the day. “Pero, can you help me?” You call out, grunting as you try again to pull the zipper down but failing.

Pero had been heating up the pan, the chopped vegetables and chicken the housekeeper had prepared labeled in the Tupperware. He sets everything down and walks towards your bedroom. He has stayed away from your bedroom and it’s the first time he’s been inside since you’ve moved in. Your back is to him and you look over your shoulder, almost giving him a come hither look that makes his cock twitch. “Your dress, hermosa?”

“Yeah. I zipped myself into it. Can’t get myself out of it.” You chuckle softly and turn your head so he can see the zip at the nape of your neck. His fingers grip the zipper and slowly he pulls it down. You can feel his warm breath on your back as your skin is exposed, his knuckles dragging along your spine as he pulls the zip down. “Thank you.” You whisper, closing your eyes at how close he is to you, you can feel the warmth from his body.

“You’re welcome.” He murmurs softly, resisting the urge to caress your waist. He is already half hard and steps back. “Chicken and vegetables good?” He asks, wanting to make sure you just don’t want some eggs or something.

You nod, "that's good. I'm starving." You say and let the dress drop. He is your husband so you don't care if he sees your bare back and underwear. You walk over to the dresser to grab some shorts and a t-shirt, feeling his eyes on you. "Are you going to make dinner?" You ask, turning to look at him after you pull the t-shirt over your head.

“Yes.” Pero spins on his heel and rushes out of your bedroom, cock pressing against the zipper of his trousers and he reminds himself that you haven’t wanted him to touch you since that one night he took your virginity. He goes back to the kitchen and moves the pan back to the flame.

You sigh when he leaves your bedroom and you head into the ensuite to wash off your makeup. By the time you arrive back in the kitchen, dinner is cooked and waiting on a plate for you. "Thank you." You smile at Pero, "this looks great." You take a bite and groan, starving after a long day at work and you practically devour the meal. Pero remains silent, watching you while he eats his food. "That was great. Thanks baby." You say without even thinking about it.

Pero nearly chokes on the bite of chicken, coughing slightly and he wonders if you are trying to torment him tonight. “You are welcomed.” He grunts and tries to not look at you, knowing he will stare at your pretty, bare face and want to touch you. He's thought about nothing else but showing you how he should have made your first time, but you’ve not wanted anything to do with him. Not that he blames you.

You stare at him, watching him eat, and it hits you. You love him. You don't know when that happened when you used to think the man was a monster, beating men up without a thought, and the womanizing. He hasn't been with another woman since you've been married, as per his word, and you believe him. Your eyes widen at the revelation and Pero is none the wiser. "When do you think your paperwork will come through for the green card?" You ask, leaning back against your chair.

Pero has a secret and it’s one that will piss you off. He’s had the paperwork for a week. He’s sat on it because he doesn’t want to divorce you yet. Hoping that some kind of miracle will happen to make you realize he would be a good man to you, you will never believe that. He huffs slightly and shrugs. “Hopefully this week. You will be happy, eh?” He smirks slightly, hiding the way it makes his heart hurt. “Have your freedom back and now that you are no longer pure, you can fuck who you want.”

Your heart shatters at his words, knowing he has used you completely. Your body, your heart, your nationality. “Yeah. I can fuck Johnny the new bassist. He keeps asking me to come over to his place.” You say, venom in your voice as you jab back at your husband.

Pero’s fork clatters to the plate and he pushes back from the counter so hard the barstool scrapes on the floor. Not caring, he dumps the dish into the sink, ignoring the way the plate breaks and he whirls around. “I’m going back to the club.” He growls.

“Why? So you can find someone to fuck? The virgin wasn’t enough for you? I gave you my virginity because I - because I wanted you and you’ve never looked at me since. Haven’t touched me even though I just practically stripped off in front of you. I know English isn’t your first language but fuck, do I need to spell it out for you? I wanted you to touch me. I have - I have been hot and cold but that’s only because I didn’t think you wanted me again and now you have the audacity to be mad because I want someone to want me.” You finish your rant, chest heaving as you stare at him.

Pero clenches his jaw, breathing heavily and he growls when he rushes forward and grabs you. “You think I don’t want you?” He hisses, shaking you slightly. “You hate me. You tell me every chance you get that you cannot wait to be rid of me and I hate that I was not gentle with you.” He confesses. “That I didn’t treat you like the fucking exquisite creature you are.”

Your eyes widen at his confession and you shake your head, “I don’t hate you. I never hated you. I hated how you behaved. The skirt chasing, the way you would speak to me. I never hated you. I - shit - you know what I hate now? The fact that I love you.” You choke, “and I thought you were the one who wanted the divorce. That you wanted to be rid of me so you could go back to your ways.”

“I chased skirts because I couldn’t have you.” He tells you. “I’m not a good man. I’m a killer, a thief, a liar, but you are the only woman I wanted so badly I would lie to her to have.” Your brow furrows in confusion and Pero shrugs. “Would have never laid a hand on you if you had refused to marry me.” He confesses.

You stare at him, absorbing his words, and you can’t help it. “You are an idiot.” You surge forward to press your lips to his, your hands cupping his cheeks and you press your body against his, wanting him to know how you feel.

Pero grunts in surprise, expecting you to hit him, not kiss him. Wrapping his arms around you and pulling you impossibly tight against his body and kissing you back with a hunger that shows you every time he’s ever thought about you.

You moan into his mouth, your hands sliding up to mess up his slicked back hair, your tongue sliding against his. You’ve thought of him every night since the night he took you on his desk. “Pero.” You whimper when his lips slide along your jaw, “I don’t care about - about - you being a good man. I just want you. The good and the bad. You’re a good man. You don’t let people see it but I do. I want you.”

Pero pulls back and he stares into your eyes. “Let me take you to bed, hermosa.” He begs softly. “Show you how I can touch you. How you deserve to be loved.”

​​You nod, “take me to bed, esposo.” You order, sliding your hands down to start unbuttoning his shirt, you want to see all of him. You want to strip him down and have him on a bed instead of his desk.

He bites his lips and watches you so he doesn’t grab you up and carry you into the bedroom to immediately undress you. “I love you.” He murmurs quietly, his eyes dark.

Your breath catches at his confession. Something you never thought you’d hear him say. “I love you.” You murmur back, caressing his chest once his shirt is unbuttoned. “I want you to make love to me, like a husband does.”

Nodding, he reaches for your hand and leads you towards the master bedroom. His bedroom. He wants you there. “I have never had sex in this apartment.” He tells you softly, hoping you understand the meaning behind it. “You are the only woman to be in this bed.”

Your heart thumps at the news and you smile, leaning in to kiss his clavicle once you’re in his bedroom. “I love you, baby. I need you.” You whimper, sliding your hand lower from his chest so you can squeeze his cock through his pants.

Pero groans and grabs your hand. “No, hermosa.” He growls softly. “You are my precious little virgin.” He tells you with a smirk. “You are going to strip off your clothes and spread your thighs so I can eat your pretty cunt.”

His words make you shudder with lust and you nod, letting go of him and stepping back to reach for the hem of your shirt. You pull it over your head to expose your tits to his gaze for the first time.

“Fuck those are pretty tits.” Pero groans, reaching down and palming his cock. “My wife is gorgeous and I am a lucky bastard.” He will try to give you sweet words, knowing you need them.

You love his compliment so you push your shorts down your legs along with your panties, stepping out of them to stand naked in front of him for the first time. “You are.” You smirk, “and so am I.” You walk backwards to his bed, crooking your finger at him before you lay down on his sheets. “Come on, show me what you got.”

Shrugging off his shirt, Pero drops it onto the floor and unbuckles his belt. Sliding it out of the loops and smirking as he watches you as he bunches the belt in his hand. “I should beat you.” He growls playfully. “For teasing me. Taunting me everyday.”

You scoff, “teasing you? I haven’t done anything. I’ve been a good girl.” You shift to sit up on your elbows. “You wouldn’t dare beat me. I’d get William to kick your ass.” You tease, spreading your legs to show him your pussy.

“Your perfume.” Pero groans, flicking open his pants to relieve the pressure. “It fills my apartment, driving me crazy. Your face, clean and make-up free is beautiful.” He reaches out and grabs your ankle, kneeling on the bed.

“Pero.” You look up at him as he hovers over you, his dark eyes burning into yours as his hand trails along your calf. “I want you. I need you.” You murmur, wanting him to know exactly how you feel.

He smirks as he nods. “You have me, hermosa.” He coos, fingers sliding over your knees and up your thighs. Humming as he combs through the neat patch of hair covering your cunt. “Now let me show you what I’m going to do with you.”

You moan when his fingers slide through your folds and your head tilts back, your eyes closing at how he’s making you feel already. “Baby.” You whimper when his fingers rub your clit. You’re already wet for him, you need more from him.

“I’ll take care of you.” Pero promises, flattening himself onto the bed and pushing your thighs farther apart. “I promise.” Winking at you, he lowers his mouth to your cunt and slides his tongue through your folds.

“Oh my - shit.” You hiss when his hot tongue flicks over your clit. “That - that feels amazing.” You confess, sliding back on your elbows to lay flat and you look up at the ceiling as his tongue laps at your cunt. You’ve never experienced this before and it feels better than any book has described it to be.

He hums, curling his tongue around your clit and flicks it sharply. Watching your tits heave and your hips rock down. You are exquisite and he’s eager to taste more. Wrapping his arms around your thighs, he holds you open and licks deeper into your cunt.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, a moan escaping your lips as his tongue pushes into your cunt, curling while his nose presses against your clit. “Shit. You - it feels so good. Keep - keep going.” You order, feeling powerful that this powerful man is between your thighs, worshiping you.

He’s not stopping. Nothing in the world would have pulled him away from your cunt right now. He growls into your folds before he pushes his tongue deep into your cunt and presses his nose to your clit.

You cry out, thighs trying to press against his head but he keeps your legs open for him so he can tongue fuck you. His nose presses against your clit and he moves his head from side to side.

He wants to devour you, to completely overwhelm you and make you cry out. He groans and doubles down on how vigorously he licks into you.

“Shit. Pe-Pero. Oh God. I’m - it’s good. So good. Oh baby, I’m gonna - fuck!” You cry out, thighs shaking as you cum, soaking his chin as you fall apart under his tongue.

Pero groans, lapping up every drop of your orgasm with the slow flicks of his tongue. Working you through the release until your moans turn breathless and you are squirming under his tongue.

Your fingers pull on his hair, “come here.” You order and he reluctantly pulls back from your pussy and he shifts up your body. His lips pressing kisses along your stomach until he’s taking your nipple into his mouth. You reach down to squeeze his cock through his pants, wanting to see all of him. “I want to see all of you, baby.”

It makes his smirk turn even more wicked and he pulls up to his knees to open up his pants the rest of the way. Standing on the bed and pushing down his trousers and briefs together to kick off.

Your eyes widen at the sight of his impressive length, uncut, and throbbing. You shift onto your knees, your eyes on him as you grip his cock, pushing the foreskin down so you can flick your tongue over the leaking slit. His groan emboldens you and you wrap your lips around the head, taking him deeper into your mouth:

Pero groans your name, pulling his hips back and making you whine softly. "You should not." He pants quietly. "I won't last."

You pout after you let his cock drop from your mouth. He shifts to kneel, grabbing your waist to lift you up onto his pillows and your hands caress his back, feeling his muscles move as he kneels between your hips. “I love you.” You murmur, “my husband.”

He hums, caressing your waist and he gazes down at you softly. "I love you too, esposa." He leans down and presses his lips to yours. "Now, I will make love to you." He whispers against your lips as he rolls the foreskin back and lines up to slowly sink inside you. Taking his time and pushing in a fraction of an inch at a time.

You moan as he pushes into you. You’re wet enough to take him but there’s still a slight pinch from the girth of his cock. “Oh.” You exhale, eyes closing as he pushes deep, rocking into you inch by inch until his hips are pressing against your thighs, your legs wrapped around him.

"You are so tight." He groans, softly, pushing his arms around your body and pulling you close. "I should have known you were pure."

You caress his shoulders up to his hair, tangling your fingers in to drag his face to yours, pressing your lips to his. His cock twitches inside of you and you whimper into his mouth when he pushes your leg higher up his hip so he can sink deeper inside of you.

Pero groans and kisses along your jaw. Slowly rocking into you and setting a sedate pace. Making love to you rather than fucking you. Kissing every inch of your skin that he can reach while he fills you.

He's taking over your senses, consuming your body with his and you moan when he picks up the pace a little. "Yes. Oh shit. You feel so good, my love. Can't believe - can't believe we wasted so much time. Could've been fucking each other."

He chuckles quietly and nuzzles into your neck gently. “I love you, mi amor.” He murmurs, loving how soft you are for him right now, how you are moaning his name.

He's so different from the man who roughly took you on his desk after destroying another man's hand. This Pero is gentle and loving, a man you're proud to call yours, and you rock your hips up to meet his, finding the rhythm he has set.

The violence is still there, simmering under the surface but he would never hurt you. He would kill for you, hurt on your behalf, but he would never put you through any kind of pain.

His jaw clenches when you start to flutter around his cock. His pelvis drops so he is grinding against your clit, and you grab his hand bringing it to your neck. You want him to squeeze, to show you that he'd never hurt you but he's capable of killing others who would do you harm.

His eyes widen and he nearly drags his hand away but you make a sound of protest. Making him keep his hand there and he starts to squeeze ever so lightly.

You moan when he starts to squeeze, giving you what you want. To know that he'd never hurt you, never do anything to harm you, has you clenching around his cock. You're so close.

You are like a vice around his cock and Pero groans your name, enjoying how dirty you are. How filthy his innocent little wife is. “I could snap your neck right now.” He growls, squeezing a little harder.

His words send you over the edge. The knowledge that he could kill you but wouldn't, has you soaking his cock and you moan his name, shaking beneath him as you cum.

It’s the most beautiful thing that he’s ever seen. Watching you fall apart under him while he slowly rocks in and out of you. Sliding his hand from your neck to your cheek, cupping it gently. “That’s it, hermosa. Cum for me.”

You shudder under him, closing your eyes when the pleasure overtakes your body, and you whimper his name as he works you through it. He slows down, in no rush for this to be over, and you catch your breath. "I want to ride you." You murmur, pushing on his chest slightly.

“Really?” He groans at the idea and slowly pulls out of you. Turning onto his back and reaching for you again. Eager to touch you as much as he can now that things are different between you.

You shift, straddling his thighs and you reach between you, gripping his cock. You lift up to position him at your entrance and you slowly sink down onto him. He feels so much bigger in this position and you gasp, "goddamn." You murmur, "you gotta- show me what to do." You request, not wanting to disappoint him.

You could just sit on his cock and he would be happy, but he slowly starts to grind you down into him. Holding your hips and rocking you onto his cock and twitching inside you. “Fuck, amor.” He grits out. “So tight like this. My wife, riding my cock like a whore.”

You playfully slap his cheek, "only yours. Your whore." You smirk and lean down to kiss him, changing the angle inside of you, and you moan against his lips. You rock back onto him, picking up the movement from his guidance, and you gasp when he smacks your ass cheek.

He chuckles quietly and slaps your ass again. “Ride me then.” He grunts. “Make yourself cum on my cock.” He smirks. “Tomorrow you can ride me at the club. Sit on my cock while I do paperwork.”

"Yesss. Want everyone to know you're mine." You confess, shifting to sit up straight. Your hands on his chest as you rock your hips. "Fuck, Pero. This - it's so good." You confess, throwing your head back. Pero surges up, his hands on your back as his lips wrap around your nipple. He bites and soothes with his tongue, making you cry out. "Fuck baby. I - shit." You choke, your fingers tangling in his hair. His hand slides between you to rub your clit and you're gone. Shaking above him, you clamp down on his cock while he rubs your clit to work you through it.

Pero groans against your breast and takes over. The way you cum for him has him chasing his own end. Bracing his feet, he thrusts up into you harshly. “Te amo, esposa. I love you.” Pero starts to babble, losing control of his mouth. “You’re mine. Always mine. Never letting you go. Didn’t- didn’t want to tell you I have my paperwork. Didn’t want you to leave me.” He presses his face to your chest and moans your name, pushing deep and filling you with his seed in hot, pulsing waves of pleasure.

You collapse against him, panting to try and catch your breath as he fills you up and he kisses along your neck, relaxing beneath you. You take a few moments to recover until you are pulling back to look at him, “wait…you’ve had the paperwork?” You ask, a frown on your face.

Pero’s eyes slide away from you guiltily and he huffs slightly. “My paperwork came in last week.” He confesses, knowing you will be upset at him. “My green card is in the safe here in the apartment.”

You push back from him, sitting up, and you shake your head. "Why didn't you tell me?" You ask, pissed at him for lying to you. "I - I thought you'd leave me. I thought you'd want to divorce and I wanted to delay the inevitable." He confesses, "I didn't want to endure the heartbreak." You stare at his remorseful expression, those dark eyes soft with emotion and you forgive him. His actions were bad, but his intentions were good. "You stupid bastard." You murmur, cupping his cheeks as you lean down to kiss his lips. "No more lies. No more secrets. Otherwise, we are over. I can't handle your lies. I can handle everything else."

“Honesty.” Pero promises, holding the back of your neck to drag your lips back to his once more. He has lied to get you to marry him, hidden his true intentions from you, nearly killed a man for touching you - but the best thing of all is that he has managed to steal your heart. Pero Tovar is a dangerous man, but you are the songbird that has tamed him. He is yours.

[nickeverdeen]

Hi could you do a five hargreeves x female!reader where reader is normal and doesn't have powers but she's a genius and basically has a photographic memory, and she meets five and he's a bit mean and snarky but eventually he starts to fall for her

I also think it would be funny if she was kinda best friends with Klaus and he kinda teases her about five, but you don't have to include that

Guns And Brains | Five Hargreeves x genius fem!reader

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x fem!reader, Klaus Hargreeves x fem!reader (best friend)

Warning: None

PS: Sorry for the unoriginal title

———————————

You were used to being the smartest person in the room. It wasn’t arrogance; it was simply a fact. Your photographic memory allowed you to absorb and recall information with an almost eerie accuracy. In school, you never needed to study, and in life, you rarely encountered a problem you couldn’t solve. You had grown accustomed to the bemused looks and occasional irritation that came from people who found your talents either intimidating or annoying.

Yet here you are, standing in the middle of an ancient-looking mansion, face-to-face with a boy who exuded an air of superiority that rubbed you entirely the wrong way. Five Hargreeves—if you remembered correctly from the vague mentions in tabloids about the dysfunctional Umbrella Academy—was a strange, prodigious enigma. He looked like a teenager, but there was something in his eyes that suggested he was anything but.

From the moment Klaus had introduced you, you could sense the tension brewing. It wasn’t just the way Five had narrowed his eyes at you, or the clipped tone he used when addressing you. It was the challenge in his gaze, the unspoken assertion that he was smarter, quicker, better. The way he practically dared you to prove him wrong.

“Who’s this?” Five had asked, his tone flat and disinterested, as if your presence was more of an inconvenience than anything else.

“This is Y/N,” Klaus had said cheerfully, apparently oblivious to the storm clouds brewing between them. “She’s got a brain like a supercomputer—remember everything she’s ever read, seen, or heard. Thought she might be able to help us out.”

Five’s eyes had flickered with something—annoyance, skepticism, you couldn’t quite tell. “We don’t need help,” he’d said brusquely. “Especially not from someone who thinks they can waltz in and solve problems that are far beyond their understanding.”

And there it was—the gauntlet thrown down. You had felt your spine stiffen, your own competitive streak flaring up in response. You didn’t like the way he assumed you were just some book-smart outsider with no practical experience, especially when he hadn’t even given you a chance to prove otherwise.

“I’m not here to solve your problems,” you replied, your tone sharp. “But from what I’ve heard, you could use all the help you can get.”

Klaus had tried to mediate, sensing the tension. “Alright, kids, play nice. We’re all on the same team here.”

But you had seen the look in Five’s eyes—a mix of condescension and irritation. He clearly didn’t think much of you, and that was something you weren’t about to let slide. If there was one thing you despised, it was being underestimated.

The first few days in the mansion were… interesting, to say the least. Klaus had introduced you to the rest of the siblings, all of whom had their own unique quirks and issues. Luther was stoic and serious, Allison was kind but guarded, Diego was intense, and Viktor was quiet, almost withdrawn. They were an odd bunch, but in some ways, you felt more at ease with them than you did with Five.

Five, on the other hand, seemed determined to make you feel unwelcome. Whenever you offered a suggestion, he’d shoot it down without a second thought. When you tried to engage him in a discussion about the theories he was working on, he’d dismiss your opinions with a wave of his hand, as if your thoughts were nothing more than background noise.

It was infuriating.

At first, you tried to stay calm. Your reminded yourself that you were here to help, not to butt heads with a stubborn man who had likely seen more in his lifetime than you could ever imagine. But as the days passed, you found your patience wearing thin.

The breaking point came one evening when you were all gathered around the dining table, discussing the latest anomaly that Five was trying to unravel. He was pacing back and forth, spouting off calculations and theories at a rapid pace. The others were listening intently, but you could see the confusion in their eyes.

“Maybe if we adjusted the parameters slightly,” you suggested, your tone measured, “we could account for the temporal flux and—”

Five cut you off with a snort. “That’s a ridiculous idea. Adjusting the parameters would only destabilize the entire equation. You clearly don’t understand the complexities of time travel.”

Your jaw clenched. “And you clearly don’t understand the value of listening to other people’s input. Just because you’ve traveled through time doesn’t mean you know everything.”

Five stopped pacing and turned to face you, his expression cold. “I’ve spent decades—decades—working on these equations. You’ve been here for a week. Don’t presume to know more than I do.”

The room went silent. The others exchanged uneasy glances, but you didn’t back down. You were tired of Five’s arrogance, tired of him treating you like you were some naive child who had wandered into his domain.

“Maybe I don’t know more than you,” you said, your voice steady. “But I’m not an idiot, and I’m not going to stand here and let you treat me like one. If you’re so confident in your theories, then why not test them? Or are you afraid that someone else might actually have a better idea?”

Five’s eyes narrowed. “Fine,” he said, his tone icy. “Let’s test it. And when it fails, you can stop wasting our time with your half-baked theories.”

You didn’t respond. You simply nodded and turned your attention back to the problem at hand, determined to prove him wrong.

The next few days were tense, to say the least. You and Five worked together, but it was clear that neither of you were happy about it. Every interaction was laced with sarcasm and thinly veiled insults. Yet, beneath the hostility, there was a grudging respect forming, though neither of you would admit it.

Despite his arrogance, you couldn’t help but be impressed by Five’s intellect. He was brilliant, there was no denying that. His mind worked at a speed that rivaled your own, and his knowledge of temporal mechanics was unmatched. But he was also infuriatingly stubborn, refusing to consider any idea that wasn’t his own.

For his part, Five found himself both annoyed and intrigued by you. You were smart—smarter than he’d initially given you credit for. Your insights were often sharp and on point, even if he was loath to admit it. But what bothered him the most was how you challenged him, pushing back against his authority in a way no one else dared to. It was unsettling, and yet… he found himself drawn to it.

One afternoon, as you were pouring over another set of calculations, you suddenly spoke up.

“I’ve been thinking,” you said, not looking up from the paper in front of you.

“Dangerous,” Five muttered under his breath, but there was no real bite to his words.

You ignored him. “You’re right about the temporal flux destabilizing if we adjust the parameters too much. But what if we didn’t adjust them directly? What if we introduced a stabilizing agent that could counterbalance the fluctuations?”

Five paused, considering your words. It wasn’t a completely ridiculous idea. In fact, it was… interesting. But he wasn’t about to let you know that.

“It’s a long shot,” he said instead, his tone dismissive.

“Maybe,” you conceded. “But it’s worth a try. Unless you have a better idea?”

Five scowled, but there was no real heat behind it. “Fine. We’ll try it your way. But don’t get used to it.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you replied, a small smirk playing on your lips.

As you worked together, there was a noticeable shift in the air between you two. The barbs were still there, but they were less sharp, the insults less cutting. It was as if you were beginning to acknowledge each other as equals—rivals, perhaps, but with a mutual respect that was slowly, begrudgingly, forming.

Weeks passed, and the initial tension between you and Five began to ease, replaced by a rhythm of sorts. You still bickered, still challenged each other at every turn, but there was a camaraderie in it now. A strange, twisted camaraderie, but camaraderie nonetheless.

The others noticed it too. Klaus, in particular, found endless amusement in your interactions, often teasing you about your “little crush” on Five.

“Admit it,” Klaus says with a grin. “You two are just one good argument away from kissing.”

You roll your eyes, brushing off his comments, but you couldn’t deny that there was a certain… tension between you and Five. Not that you would ever admit it out loud. The last thing you wanted was to give Five the satisfaction of knowing he got under your skin in more ways than one.

But the turning point came one evening, when you were working late in the mansion’s library. The room was dimly lit, the only sound the soft rustle of papers as you pored over your latest set of equations. You were focused, your mind fully absorbed in the problem at hand, when you felt a pair of eyes on you.

You looked up, only to find Five watching you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, neither of you spoke. There was something in his gaze, something that made your heart skip a beat.

“What?” You asked, your voice softer than you intended.

Five hesitated, as if weighing his words carefully. “You’re not as annoying as I thought you were.”

It wasn’t exactly a compliment, but coming from Five, it was close enough. You felt a small smile tug at your lips. “You’re not as unbearable as I thought you were either.”

Five’s lips quirked up in the faintest hint of a smile. “High praise.”

You fell into a comfortable silence after that, the tension between you two shifting into something else. Something neither of you were quite ready to name.

[pumpumdemsugah]

I don't trust white queer or trans people

What this "woc have higher levels of T" and "Black women don't fit eurocentric hormone levels" ( said by left leaning people ) shows is what many of you take away is WOC, especially Black women are seen as masculine because you think there is a biological basis for this idea and don't see it the same way people see police calling Black men and boys bigger or holding a gun to justify police brutality

White queer people love the " how can you tell someone's hormone levels without a test" until they're presented with a Black woman then they know and they're happy to say whatever unscientific neo-race science shit about Black women they like to prove a point about not making assumptions about peoples bodies but Black women aren't people, we're points, tools and vehicles for credibility so we're whatever your argument needs to work. Tbh i think the only reason many of you even use that line wrt trans people is trans people can be white. If only Black people were trans, many of you would be comfortable pushing ideas you call fascist when conservatives do it. White people always find a way to present themselves as more evolved than the lowly existence Black women occupy because why are you talking about my body and why do i see people claiming stereotypes that DO NOT apply to Black women apply to us like being hairy. At this point many of you view us as an empty vessel to dump and pin any negative idea on. We're literally seen as balded headed. I'm not interchangable with other WOC or other stereotypes

All many of you have taken away is treating Black women like a modern day 3rd gender so OF COURSE we're treated differently, our bodies are problem others need to learn to stomach and taken the focus off the fact we're seen as aggressive because of the legacy of slavery. You can not own people as property and present them as people, you need a justification for enslaving an entire group of people. You lot genuinely think Black women are being targeted because we are different and brutishly made. The blame goes from the people doing this to casting Black women's bodies as a gender conundrum that has yet to be solved. Slave masters were never confused.

Its easier to justify slavery and colonialism when you pretend the people you're doing it to aren't people the way you are as white person, they aren't civilised and many of you have come to this conclusion about us again and don't see the issue of YOU finding a scapegoat to distract from your violent behaviour.

You lot hear " Black women don't fit white femininity" and you think yes, its because they're universally all big Black brutes and you think its leftism because buzzword buzzword and we're meant to see this as solidarity because you got some self loathing Black woman to agree. Black women are seen as masculine as an excuse to abuse and rape us, its not simply some issue of representation or accepting us, its used to justify harm and many of you have taken a discussion of violence against Black women and erased violence against Black women from it. And then have the gall to call it solidarity and not white entitlement when you've ignored our history and suffering

[luvly-writer]

Crimes of a Mother

Batfamily x Latina! Reader

—•—

Author´s note: Hello! Hope all of you are okay! Welcome to my new...whatever this is! (I have no idea if this will be a series or just a one shot...If it does become a series, it will definitely be a short one unlike the others) This is not in ANY of the universes of my other fics. Hope you enjoy!

Warning: None

General Masterlist:

Masterlist:

—•—

City lights. A scream. A dark looming shadow. A manor. Gun shots. It was the same dream every night. A city dark as night and curious as a cat.

Unraveling the never-ending mysteries that Gotham had to offer was one of my fascinations in life. For the longest time, I had held a certain obsession with the city. It always felt as if something was out there...calling me towards the magnificently mysterious place. Mom always tried to discourage it and would say that the city held secrets that would be unwise to uncover. It was a recuring argument in my household and it got worse the moment I told her I was striving to enroll on Gotham University.

SMACK

I snap out of my daydream.

-You know...normally, I don´t mind when you space out, Yn, but if we expect to make it out of here and straight to GU, we seriously NEED to study.

Taylor, my best friend ever since childhood, dropped a book on my desk, and looked at me impatiently. Charles, snorted from his place in my desk chair, watching the entire ordeal amusedly.

-You know it's bad when Tay is the one that wants to study and not you, Y.

-You know, you don't have to follow me all the way to Gotham. Brings out your attachment issues.

-First of all, you bitch, OF COURSE we have to go there. We are the iconic trio of Robinson Academy; we can't be separated. And second, Yn Salazar, you are forbidden of going into this mystery solving quest without your trusty sidekicks. How else is the documentary of your life supposed to be entertaining if you don't have the two dazzling, gay, and hilarious side characters who everyone will make edits of. Duh!

Said Taylor, throwing herself on my bed.

-It is the last Spanish test! Vamos a estar bien, chica! Mr. Soto will probably give out like a short quiz for us to be done with Senior year. Besides, we are ALREADY in! Forgot that piece of information?

Taylor opened her mouth and just shrugged, making Charlie and I laugh.

-Fair.

-Now, let's finish setting up and get started.

We move efficiently, setting up the camera on its tripod and strapping each tiny microphone to ourselves. We get settled on my bed and hit record.

•[Recording]

-Hi! My name is Yn Salazar. Born and raised in Puerto Rico. Currently, it is May 2nd, a week before my last day of high school and three weeks before my graduation. These are my best friends, Charles Martinez and Taylor Perez. Following today, we will be headed for Gotham University. Why Gotham precisely? Well, Gotham is a city full of mischief, madness, and chaos; and I plan to uncover it. From cryptic, to vigilantes, to rouges, this will be only the first of many time capsules. Beware Gotham, I'm coming.

—•—

A FEW MONTHS LATER

Unlike most college students, Charlie, Taylor and I had decided to not go on the dorms and find a three-bedroom apartment close to campus. Seeing as the three of us came from families that were economically well and rent was unsurprisingly cheap in Gotham, we had finally settled last week. Our apartment was fully furnished and decorated, and we still had a few weeks before classes began in September. I had just ended a call with my mom and headed for the living room, where Charlie was seated rewatching House of the Dragon. Taylor was in the kitchen trying out a new recipe she found on Pinterest.

-Ugh!

I say as I throw myself on the couch dramatically

-Your mom still thinks it is a bad idea to come to Gotham?

Taylor screamed from the kitchen.

-YES! I will never get it! What is in here that puts that woman in such a bad mood? All my life, my one dream has been to come to Gotham, I mean this is where every criminal journalist thrives! She is always so paranoid of this city and telling me that the secrets I would find here should stay hidden and for me to give it a rest. I think it is because my father lives here and if he does, who is he? Every time I ask, I get the same speech of powerful men and their ways...My mom has good judgement! I don't think she would have been with just anyone. For fuck's sake, she is one of the smartest and highest paid psychologists in Puerto Rico. I need to find out what this city is hiding...what happened to mom when she lived here.

-More like who happened probably

Muttered Charlie.

-EXACTLY! It is even worst that she sent me here with this letter to give to a Mr. Bruce Wayne.

-The Billionaire? (T)

-I guess...maybe I can interrogate him and see if that gets me a lead on this entire thing.

-When are you going? (C)

-After we drop you at soccer practice and T at rehearsal.

-FUCK I THINK I BURNT IT!!!

-TAYLOR!!!!

Charles and I got to her rescue laughing.

-Looks like we will be having takeout tonight

She said with a laugh

----

-That is one creepy ass manor...

I mutter from my driver seat. I press the button on the intercom near the gate. It buzzes and a voice with a distinct English accent speaks up,

-Good evening, with what may I help you today?

-Yeah...uh...hi! My name's Yn Salazar. I came to deliver a letter for Mr. Wayne...it's from Valentina Salazar.

-Oh dear...I'll let you pass straight away.

I hear the gate buzz and open. I drive in and park my car just outside. We had all pitched in and bought a car because we knew Gotham was not the best of places to walk around during the night. So, this is more convenient.

I take a deep breath and grab my bag, making sure my notepad is there, with my phone and wallet. I double check that the letter is there and once I see it, I get out of the car and lock it. I walk towards the entrance and just before I go to open the door, a man dressed like a butler opens it.

-You must be young Miss Salazar.

-Yn's just fine, and yeah that's me

The man takes a second to look at me, slight shock in his features. I observe him from head to toe and try to give him a smile. Top ten weirdest encounters ever. He moves aside and gestures for me to enter.

-Right this way, miss, Master Bruce is in his study expecting you.

I inspect everything around me as I follow the man. As we walk past one of the doors, I hear a bunch of screaming and I peak inside. Five guys, all varying in sizes and two girls, one blonde and another with raven hair are seen playing Mario Kart. I stay for second when one of them catches my eye and we make eye contact. He furrows his brow and I panic and leave, catching up to the butler.

We finally reach the study, and he knocks. A faint “Come in” is heard and I'm led inside.

-Young Miss Salazar

The butler announces and takes his leave. The man, Bruce Wayne takes one look at me and goes rigid. We stay a few seconds just looking at each other. His eyes show shock and disbelief. Mine I can guess show curiosity and uncertainty.

-This is for you!

I cringe at how awkward I sound. Great job, Yn, he already fucking knows that. He coughs and nods as I walk towards him and hand him the letter. I take a seat and wait patiently for him to open it and read it. I play with my fingers as silence engulfs us.

-You are Valentina's kid?

-That is corrrect

-How old are you?

-I turned 18 back in February.

-I see...

His face pales at the revelation and he continues reading. I didn't think it was possible for this man to get any paler, yet he does once he is done reading the letter.

-How did you know my mom?

I went directly to the point

-We were close friends

-How close? She never once mentioned this supposed friendship

He flinches at that statement,

-Valentina is a woman of many secrets

-On that we can agree, how close?

He observes me for a moment, and I harden my gaze on him. The corner of his tilts up slightly, clearly amused by me.

-Close

-How informative of you. Did you attend Gotham Academy together?

-Yes.

-Hmmm, have you any clue on why she left Gotham?

-I don't think it is my position to give that information

-How noble, have you any memory of who were her friends aside from you, of course?

-I may. Yn, is it?

-Yes.

-I suggest you follow your mother's advice and keep away from this. Your mother is a good woman and anything from the past should be placed at rest. Some skeletons are meant to stay in the closet.

-Did you know who was my father?

I push one last time and I see him take a sharp intake of air.

-Ah...so you do, wonderful.

-Yn...

-Thank you for your time today, Mr. Wayne. I can assure you this won't be the last time you will see me. Here's my mother's number. You can call her and tell her yourself that her plan to shoo me away from my investigation has been unsuccessful and that getting her “close friend” to deter me from it as well will do nothing. Good day.

I stand up to leave and Mr. Wayne just observes me as I take my leave. Alfred, who I just learnt his name, leads me back to the door. We pass by the kitchen where the group I saw earlier are gathered muttering. They see me and quiet down, just observing me. I raise my eyebrow at them. I hear a low “He got another one?” as I continue on my way. Finally, we get to the door, and I thank Alfred for him time. I get on my car and look up, seeing Mr. Wayne watching me from one of the windows and the group of people trying to be discreet from another window. “This won't be the last time they see me for sure”, I think to myself as I connect my phone to the car and play Running Up That Hill by Kate bush as I drive away.

—•—

Back in Bruce's study, Alfred interrupts his train of thought as he watches the car leave.

-Is that who I am to believe it is?

-And who might you think that is, Alfred?

-Don't play coy with me boy, I can detect a Wayne from a mile away. That girl is yours.

Alfred replied courtly. Bruce walks back and hands him the letter. His eyebrows raise high on his head as he reads.

-I have never met anyone with Wayne blood that was not troublesome, and it seems, this one will keep you with your hands full for some time.

-What gave her away?

-Her eyes, master Bruce. That scrutinizing and calculative gaze is one that can only be found in anyone related to you, blood or not. You have another young detective in your hands, and this one just as brilliant.

-That is what worries all of us.

-•-

Tell me what do you guys think about this draft? Should it be a fic? Are y'all interested? Should there be a taglist? Leave me a comment or a reblog :)

[gildedphoenix]

Fire Escape - Dead on MAYn Day 1

Prompts uses: -Courting rituals -Flickering -Dinner interrupted by a fight -“Are they gone yet”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Not beta read. 6k words. Jason has a stressful day and shares dinner with his downstairs neighbor, Danny. The following week, Danny leaves something for him. A courting ritual between busy, stressed disasters.

AO3: Fire Escape Dead on MAYn Blog @deadonmayn

Fire Escape 

Life as a vigilante was stressful. Their world was not always easy. Cases did not always wrap up nicely in thirty minutes with everyone skipping off, hand in hand. 

This was definitely one of those bad days. 

A child trafficking case, after dragging on for the last 3 months, ended horribly. The head of the ring got away before Hood and Nightwing could to box him in. Most of the kids were already gone, whisked away to another location while Jason and Dick were fighting to reach them. And the kids they were able to find? Jason took a deep breath. This wasn’t a night he would be able to forget anytime soon. 

He wouldn’t be sleeping tonight so after Dick left, Jason cooked. He made chicken and bacon stuffed shells with a creamy marinara sauce. The recipe always took forever but it was a welcome distraction. Jumbo shells, chicken, bacon, broccoli, cheese, and sauce and a dozen other components to prep and cook. No time to think of anything else.

Two hours later, Jason was still wired, but he had stuffed shells. Enough for his whole family, if he was honest with himself. Enough to feed those kids who didn’t make it. Enough to fill the stomachs that hadn’t been full in so long but would never be hungry again. 

Jason was broken out of his despair by a noise on the fire escape. His gun was in his hand without conscious thought. Slow, steady steps took him closer to the window until he could see the potential intruder. 

Jason's shoulders dropped back down as he spotted his downstairs neighbor outside their window. It wasn’t unusual to see Danny out on the fire escape, one level down. Nothing unusual. Nothing to be concerned about. 

Jason reupholstered his gun before Danny spotted him and turned back to the kitchen. They’d introduced themselves when Danny moved in a few weeks ago at the beginning of the fall semester but hadn’t interacted much since then. 

Grabbing the casserole dish and an extra plate and fork, Jason stepped out onto his level of the scaffolding and called down to Danny. 

“Hey, you want some food? I made too much and can’t possibly eat it all.” Jason set the dish down between himself and the stairs and started in on his own plate. 

“Oh my god, Yes! I haven’t had food all day! You are a life saver. A knight in shiny armor.” Danny made his way up the stairs and peeked his head just above Jason’s level. He reached slowly for the extra plate and serving spoon while watching Jason. Jason motioned a little ‘go ahead’ with his own fork and Danny’s face lit up as he scooped a modest portion of shells onto his plate. “I was stuck in meetings all day. The council just wanted to drag everything out and every issue solved spawned two more. And it’s not even like they listen to me,” he stopped, eyes wide and he put the serving spoon back in the dish and looked intently at his own plate. “Not that they would. You know. I’m just a,you know, just an intern. I’m not even paid. Just an unpaid internship. Yep. I’m just there to take notes and get college credit. I’m an engineering student at Gotham U.” He glanced over at Jason, eyes a little panicked as he tried to sell his obvious lie. “But I don’t wanna bore you. You probably have a real job with real stress. I’m just an intern student. Aaaaaaand I’m gunna stop rambling now and go eat. Yep. Thank you.” 

Danny clammered back down the stairs (and Jason could swear he missed that last step based on the noises) before settling down against the wall next to his window. With a chuckle, Jason took another bite of his food. “You’re right, my job is stressful. That doesn’t mean you’re day can’t be stressful too, though. Stress is relative. We all handle it differently. It’s how I ended up making too much food. I’ve got a big family and I just went on autopilot and before I knew it I’d made enough to feed them all, even though none of them are over tonight. It’s still a nice way to decompress. I’ll give them a call tomorrow to see if any of them want some but this dish is better fresh.” He leaned back against his own wall, eyes closed, taking in the steady constant noises of the city. The chatter of Crime Alley and the more distant rumble of Gotham. It was several minutes before Jason heard Danny call up again. 

“This is amazing. I don't think I’ve eaten anything this good since….Actually never. I definitely can’t make anything like this and my parents didn’t really do home cooked meals.” 

Jason glanced down through the grates and Danny was scraping the sauce off the plate onto his fork. Jason decided to show some mercy before the poor guy started licking the plate. “Feel free to grab more. I’m not gonna eat this all and my siblings should have clairvoyantly known I was cooking if they really wanted any.” Jason chuckled a bit but it also didn’t seem that unrealistic. 

“Thanks! I’m going to be full for a week after this.” Danny popped back up the stairs, his face lit up in joy, as he pulled the dish over to him, spooning out a full plate of shells this time. “I guess their loss is my gain.” He went back down to lounge against his own wall. 

An easy silence fell. The noises of the city a distant juxtaposition to the bubble they had created. Just two people enjoying food. Enjoying a little down time. Enjoying peace.

****

A few days later, Jason came home to a surprise. He didn’t expect to really hear from his neighbor again beyond the occasional waves and hellos they had previously established. Just the coming and going in the stairs or passing on the street. But there on the outside of his window was a sticky note. Black with tiny nebulas, Jason’s name was scrawled with silver glitter gel pen and an arrow pointing down.

He opened the window and looked down to see if Danny was out, Jason spotted a ziplock bag full of cookies and a thermos. With Danny nowhere in sight, Jason inspected the note again and on the other side was more writing.

“I can’t cook anything near as good as what you made, but these are my favorite cookies from the bodega by campus. I like them with cardamom tea.” 

Jason opened the bag and caught a whiff of the cookies. He had fully intended to run them through a spectrometer but the enticing scent of ginger snaps and some urge deep within his soul overrode his caution. He took a small bite. And they were delicious. The spices were deep and warm. The molasses earthy. Setting them aside for a moment, he opened the thermos and took a tentative sip. The tea was still warm and lightly sweetened. The sharp spices of the tea playing well off the warmth of the cookies. 

He’d never had anyone leave him offerings like this. The thought stopped him for a moment. 

Gifts. Not offerings, gifts. He shrugged and grabbed a book from his TBR shelf. Settling in with the cookies and tea to relax before he had to go out for patrol. His mind was distracted by stray thoughts of what he might be able to leave his neighbor in return. 

****

Danny hated his teachers. He hated this city. He hated his creaky apartment. Though he didn’t mind the eye candy of his upstairs neighbor when they passed on the stairs. And if Danny turned around once in a while to watch Jason go up the stairs and enjoy the view? Well that was just the payment he deserved from the universe for the elevator always being out. There were other perks too, Danny decided thoughtfully. He and Jason had been leaving each other little offerings on the fire escape and it had become the best part of Danny’s day. It wasn’t every day, maybe more like once a week. But the joy he got when there was a little package outside his window? Unparalleled. As if matching Danny’s galaxy post it note energy, Jason left notes with his gifts on stationary that looked like old parchment paper, quotes from classic authors printed along the bottoms. Just a little explanation of what the gift was and where it was from. Or sometimes, if it were a homemade dish, Jason would include where he’d got the recipe from. Danny was on the look out for a larger notepad that was still space themed. He found he was running out of space on his post its and using two seemed like trying too hard, as if going out and buying all new stationary wasn’t also trying too hard. But Jason didn’t have to know it was new. Danny could have already had this. 

To Danny’s joy, there was a take out box outside under his window today. No Jason to be seen, but they rarely made it outside at the same time. Their schedules rarely lined up.

“I found a new korean place over off Vermont St. I got you some char sui pork buns. I hope they help tonight while you’re studying for finals. The things you’ve left for me have always made my evenings better.  -Jason”

And at the bottom, the little book quote read “‘Why did you do all this for me?’ he asked. ‘I don’t deserve it. I’ve never done anything for you.’ ‘You have been my friend,’ replied Charlotte. ‘That in itself is a tremendous thing.’” -Charlotte’s Web

What had started as a simple shared meal from Jason making too much food after work had become the best part of Danny’s week. And it seems like Jason might feel the same. A lovely give and take of food offerings. A courtship. Or at least, Danny liked to think of it that way. But even just simple friendship was a welcome feeling. At least now he knew Jason also liked their little dance and this wasn’t out of some misconstrued obligation. And Jason even remembered that he was a student and that it was finals week. That extra thought had Danny blushing as he took the buns to his kitchen counter and stuck the note on his fridge with a comet shaped magnet. Danny kept all the notes Jason left. Luckily the fridge couldn’t be seen from the window because otherwise Danny would die (again) of embarrassment. As it was, he simply enjoyed his dinner while rereading Jason’s words.

****

“Wait a minute” Dick interrupted Jason’s story description of Danny’s most recent gift of curry and boba tea. “So you and this guy-” “Danny,” Jason corrected. Dick nodded, a conspiratorial smile growing. The kind of smile your brother gets when he stumbles across potential blackmail material on you. “So you and Danny” Jason did not like that tone, “have been leaving gifts outside each others windows.” Jason nodded, “Every week, or MORE,” Dick looked pointedly at Jason for confirmation, to which Jason nodded again. “And you FINALLY tell him that his gifts ‘make your day better’ and you use the page with a quote from Charlotte’s Web about FRIENDSHIP?” 

“What’s the matter with that? It’s not like I picked it specifically. It was just the next page.” Jason was beginning to regret sharing this joy with his dick of a brother.

“Ok, So.” Dick threw his arm around Jason’s shoulders, “We need to either work on your delivery, or get you some stationary with better quotes. You’re clearly over the moon about this guy-” “Hey, what makes you say that? I just- It’s- I…”Jason stuttered, trying to gather his scrambled thoughts. “Having something to look forward to after I get off patrol is nice. And having someone go out of their way to do that for me…” 

Dick really looked at his brother. It wasn’t often that Jason managed to look small these days. But there he sat, shoulders hunched, fingers fiddling with Danny’s most recent note. It wasn’t a sticky note size, but a small half page. Very much like Jason’s own notepad with the quotes from famous authors. He was absentmindedly folding the paper back and forth, making lines from star to star among the constellations decorating the page. “Jason,” Dick dropped his teasing tone and waited for his little brother to look up. “It sounds like you’ve got a good thing going here. I wouldn’t want you to mess it up by being impatient. You laid out your cards, in a small careful way, and you received something in turn,” he nodded to the creased note. “Keep taking those steps. I can see how happy this has made you, even as simple as it is. Keep finding things you think he’ll like. Keep leaving your little courtship gifts. And maybe just flip through your stationary and pick the quotes a bit more deliberately,” Dicks eyes glinted dangerously, “You lit’ nerd.” Dick quickly flipped backwards from sitting into several handsprings across the training mat, his maniacal laughter echoing across the cave as he tried to escape the very predictable ire of his younger brother.

“Oh that’s it! You’re in for it now!” Jason rolled up onto the mats to chase Dick, joy in his heart and violence on his mind. Danny’s note settled to the floor, waiting for Jason’s response. “I hope you like curry! I got a medium spicy, but eat it with the naan if it’s too hot. Your gifts are the highlight of my day whenever you leave me something.” And then, hand written at the bottom of the page where Jason’s stationary had quotes, “With all the stars in the sky, and all the people in the world, I’m glad I ended up in a constellation next to you.”

****

“Guys, I’m going to die.” Danny declared and then promptly face planted into Sam’s couch. They were having their monthly catch up dinner and hang out. Sam was attending Metropolis University for Law with a minor in environmental studies. Her parents weren’t happy with her obvious post grad plans, but she was fulfilling their terms of getting a traditional, respectable degree, so they were footing the bill. That included her off campus apartment because no daughter of theirs was about to live in those dingy college dorm rooms. 

Tucker was attending MIT while also building a name for himself in the hacker community. Two streams he was desperately trying to keep from crossing, lest MIT expel him on ethics. 

Danny, of course, was attending Gotham U for aerospace engineering and astronomy. Their schedules made it hard to find a common evening once a month that they were all free. Danny’s ability to make portals (thanks to a new set of powers and abilities that came with being Ghost King of the infinite realms) made it slightly easier to get everyone in the same room once they found the time. Danny’s muffled voice drifted up from the couch cushions. 

“What was that Danny? I couldn’t quite get that through the literal couch in your face.” Sam sassed.

Danny lifted his face from the fluff and whined, “I left Jason the sappiest note and by the time I came to my senses, he had already taken iiiiiiiiiit! And now he’s read it and he hates me and he’s never going to talk to me again or leave me homemade cookies or anything else ever again and it’s all because I read too deep into a quote from fucking Charlotte’s Web!” He flopped onto his back and then slowly melted off the couch, thumping to the floor when Sam pushed him to make room to sit down with her pho bowl. 

“Come on man, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” Tucker said. “Tell us what you wrote.” “No.”

“Don’t make me check the security footage. You know we’ve got HD cameras on your place.” Tucker, horrible friend that he was, was already pulling up the footage. The cameras had been installed as a valid security measure but were mostly used to retrieve blackmail footage against Danny by his friends. Danny had a tendency to glow and float as he stargazed on rare clear nights in Gotham and Sam and Tucker gave him no end of shit about it. 

“Did you find it?” Sam asked excitedly, crowding closer while holding Danny off with a boot to the face. 

“Yep! Let’s see, ‘Hope you like curry,’ blah blah blah, oh here. ‘With all the stars in the sky, and all the people in the world, I’m glad you ended up in a constellation next to me.’ You’re right.” Tucker declared solemnly. “It is bad. He’s never going to talk to you again. He’s gunna move states. Dye his hair. Change his name! You’ll never find him again and you’ll never find love.” Tucker lost his deadpan demeanor and dissolved into laughter. 

Danny glared at him and phased the couch out from under him. Tucker hit the floor still laughing and didn’t stop. 

“Captain Chuckles can stay on the floor, but please re-solidify my couch. I like it to exist in this dimension.” Sam nudged Tucker ever so gently out of the way so that the couch could exist again. 

“But really. Was it too much?” Danny asked Sam, since Tucker was clearly just going to be useless. 

“I think it was honest and forward. I think if you guys had been going on traditional dates, then it might be too much.” Dannys face fell and his shoulders slumped. “But!” Sam interjected quickly, “That is not what you guys are doing. For better worse, you have some archaic courting ritual going on. You’ve only been exchanging words and gifts. Small offerings of your heart and soul. To give less than your full self in this situation would be disingenuous. I don’t think it was too soon, especially since he initiated the sentiment. Sure, writing down undying love,” Danny and tucker both chuckled at the ‘undying’ part and Sam kicked them both for it, “Would have been too much. But directly stating that you enjoy the little dance you have going on? And that you like him? Nah. I think you did good. Especially since he’s clearly a literary nerd.”

“Yeah” Tucker chimed in, “He matches well with your space nerd!” 

“Oh that’s it! You’re in for it now!” Danny rolled off the couch and chased Tucker around Sam’s spacious apartment, promising to freeze him to the ceiling once he caught him. 

****

Jason decided to take a night off patrol. Nothing major should be going on tonight. The Alley could do without him being a helicopter parent for one evening. He wanted to make a more involved meal for Danny. There was a good chance that they would see each other tonight. Jason had connected some dots and realized that Danny, the beautiful face and soul that he was, liked to stargaze on clear Gotham nights. This would be the first clear night in weeks and there was no way that Danny would miss the opportunity. 

So Jason got started early. Rissoto didn’t look fancy but it took skill to get right. The results, when done right, were amazing. Jason had also picked up a bottle of wine. Call it wishful thinking, but he hoped Danny would share it with him and they might sit down and really get to know each other. That would be nice. 

****

As Jason stood, stirring his hopes and risotto, Danny was one floor down trying not to burn the entire building down. This was his fourth night trying to make the same thing.  He’d watched so many videos. So many tutorials. All of them said this could be done by a beginner cook if they just followed the steps. None of them really sold how difficult it was though. Someone needed to start a cooking channel where an average person tried to follow these recipes. 

The first attempt, several nights ago, ended in him realizing that he could not melt sugar on top of a creme brulee in a plastic ramekin. Fire plus plastic is bad. That was the first batch ruined. 

The second batch didn’t set in the oven. Which didn’t make sense because he’d done everything the same as the first batch, which had turned out fine. 

The third batch, he turned the oven up just a but realized while he was cleaning up egg shell that he’d never actually put eggs into the second batch. By the time he got the third batch out of the oven, they were horribly over cooked. 

For the fourth batch, he laid out all his ingredients, portioned and in order of use. Set his oven back to the right temperature and gave an offhanded prayer to Clockwork for proper timing. 

The timer dinged, the custards wobbled ever so slightly and Danny about collapsed with relief as he got them safely removed from the oven and set on his counter. He took a moment to contemplate how he’d ended up cooking the same dessert four nights in a row. These were way too complicated for him. But he’d done this to himself. He’d looked up “impressive desserts to make for your date” and Creme Brulee topped half the lists. Last step was to toast the tops with a micro torch after they cooled. 

Danny returned to his homework while he waited.

****

Jason opened his window, two servings piping hot seafood risotto plated and ready. He’d heard muffled cursing from downstairs, so he knew Danny was home. Most likely cursing one of his professors. Jason left the bottle of wine just inside his window. He was hopeful that the evening would go well but no sense in being presumptuous. He wasn’t even sure if Danny liked wine, or drank at all! 

Starting down the fire escape, Jason was surprised to see Danny already out. He was peering into the eyepiece of a telescope muttering to himself. Danny did talk to himself a lot now that he thought about it. Not wanting to startle him, Jason waited on the upper level of the fire escape and simply watched. Admired the object of his affections these past months. It was odd to think how much they’d both put into the relationship so far for how little time they’d actually spent together. Danny sat on the stairs in his Nasa hoodie and some Justice League pajama pants, which caused Jason to chuckle quietly to himself.

Sitting next to Danny was an open notebook, Danny’s chaotic handwriting scattered over the page along with some very precise charts. Jason almost didn’t believe they were hand drawn except that they were penned in the same aggressively bright neon green sparkly gel pen as the chicken scratch writing. What a strange dichotomy. Next to the notes sat a tray with two ramekins of creme brulee. As Dannys hand moved down to make some notes Jason noticed several bandaids with burns peeking out from under them. Had Danny made the creme brulees himself? He’d mentioned a few times that he was hopeless in the kitchen. Had he gone to all that trouble and apparently pain, to make something for Jason? 

For no particular reason, Jason needed to clear his throat, which startled Danny of his concentration trance. “Oh! You’re here!” Danny said. He capped the eyepiece and looked around. “I made you something. You’re always making things for me and I’ve just been buying things so I wanted to put more work into your gifts. So I made these. For….For us. I was hoping you’d eat with me? I waited out here for you. Also it was a great night for some stargazing so I was just doing that while I waited, of course, because sometimes you come home really late. Not that I’m watching you!” Danny’s hands came up defensively, a blush coloring his cheeks as he rambled. Eyes darting away, he started clearing off the stairs for them to sit. Moving his notebooks and the creme brulees. Jason just smiled at the disaster he was already half in love with. He couldn’t wait to learn all of Danny’s quirks and habits. Would he always ramble on or was this just jitters? Would Danny’s face light up the same way every time Jason came home from patrol? He hoped so. He wanted to make this work. He wanted to come home to that face.

“I’m actually really glad you’re out here,” Jason said, saving Danny from himself. “I’ve seen your telescope and noticed that you like to come out on clear nights. I was hoping you’d have dinner with me again. I made seafood risotto. It’s shrimp and muscles. Would you like some?” Jason presented the plates to Danny as he came down the stairs. 

“Yeah. I’d love to have dinner with you. I like any food that doesn’t try to eat my back. I don’t think I’ve ever had risotto. Let me just finish moving my junk.” He smiled as he set everything off to the side in a pile.

Jason settled down and handed one of the plates and a fork over to Danny. “How has school been going? I think you mentioned you were going for engineering?” Danny nodded. “What made you pick Gotham U? Most people are trying to leave the city, not come here.”

“Oh, that’s easy. But two reasons really. First, Gotham U has the Wayne Tech scholarship program and the great internship programs. I’ve also heard hush-hush rumors about some great job opportunities that recruit from Wayne Tech. If it’s true, I want to be here.” Danny gazed up longingly at the sky. Wayne Tech of course had partnerships with NASA but that was a well known connection. It wasn’t hush hush. The only thing Jason could think of that Danny would be alluding to would be jobs on the Watchtower. They did hire civilians, but the Justice League hand selected the best of the best. Bruce and Lucius kept their eyes out for those people. Not that he supported nepotism, but Jason wouldn’t mind making sure Danny’s name got added to the hat once he was ready. 

“The other reason,” Danny said, breaking Jason out of his future planning, “is that Gotham is the only city I could find with even half the amount of crazy as Amity, my home town. We had some crazy super villains and after growing up with that daily madness, I can’t settle down in a peaceful city.” He took a moment to savor the food, bliss coming across his face. It made Jason want to make more food for him. Jason wanted to bring him that joy again. To provide for Danny and take care of him. “This is really good! I love your food. Best thing I’ve ever had every time. I just hope what I made doesn’t give us both food poisoning.” “Hey, I’m sure it’s great. Did you burn your fingers making that? I saw the band aids. Even if you need chaos, I’m sure you don’t need to make more by burning yourself making dessert. Just walk through the alley in the daytime and I’m sure you’ll get enough excitement.” 

“Nah, Muggers are small potatoes.” Danny contested. “Most exciting thing that can come of that is Red Hood showing up. And I’m typically not out while he’s patrolling. Hood keeps most of the rif raf out of the area, so I generally feel safer here than the rest of Gotham.” 

“Hmmm. So Hood is doing better than the bats and birds? I’m sure Batman would love to hear that.” Jason bumped Danny’s shoulder playfully. “Since you’ve been here for a few months now, do you have a favorite bat or bird?”

“Red Hood.” Danny said quickly and decisively. “Definitely Red Hood. Not only does he have his area on lock down, so much so that even the other Bats stay out. Black Mask? Nope. Traffickers? Gone. Most violence? Low level. I know some of the bigger name rogues will ignore all the boundaries but they’re really not known for following the rules so they don’t really count. And also he’s….” Danny stopped abruptly, a blush coming over his cheeks. “But what about you? You grew up here. Who’s your favorite?” 

“That’s a hard choice. I remember when it was just Batman and Robin OG. So I would say it was original Robin, then Nightwing, but then he abandoned us for Bludhaven. Now It’s probably BlackBat. Though the current Robin is also doing a great job. He gets a lot of shit for being so young and violent but what do people expect? Of course he’s violent. Being Robin is not easy. It’s- And now I’m rambling on.” Jason chuckled. “BlackBat. She’s my favorite. For now.” 

“Hmmm. I haven’t heard a lot about her. It makes sense since what I have heard is that she’s the stealthiest of the bats.” 

Some time during the conversation they had relaxed, no longer holding a strict gap between their bodies. Forks clinked as they sat shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip on the narrow fire escape staircase. A peaceful silence fell around them like a cozy blanket. 

“Can I try one of the creme brulees?” Jason asked, having finished his food already. “I would hate to see all your hard work, pain, and suffering go unappreciated.”

“Sure, but you’re taking your life into your own hands. Just do me a favor and lie to me about how good it is.” Danny passed one of the desserts and a small spoon over to Jason. Their hands touched and they both paused, but neither pulled away. 

A gentle smile grew on Jason’s face as a blush returned to Danny’s cheeks but still neither pulled away.  The world seems to pause around them, allowing them this moment. The soft light coming from the windows flickered….and then went out. 

“Um…What just happened?” Danny asked, looking around. The ambient glow of Gotham still loomed in the distance but most of the closer lights had gone out, just street lamps remained. Down at the end of the street, a red glow flickered. The glow of fire. “I gotta go.” They both said at the same time. Their eyes met in the dim light. Shadows made masks on their faces and sudden understanding lit their eyes. A mutual epiphany.

“Be safe.” Danny said to Red Hood. “You too.” Jason responded before darting back up the stairs and into his apartment. 

****

Danny’s mind was reeling. How could he not have noticed? All the clues were there in hindsight. The late nights. The tired days. The various bruises and scrapes. Even the vague half answers and glaring lack of personal info in their brief conversations. But in that moment of calamity, Jason’s entire demeanor shifted. His shoulders squared and resolution threaded every fiber of his frame, and what a great frame it was. On the plus side, Danny felt less conflicted about staring at Red Hood’s ass while courting Jason. They were the same ass. The same thighs. The same broad shoulders that Danny had way too many private thoughts about. 

Focus Danny!

Once he got into his closet, he transformed. While he no longer shouted “Going Ghost” at the top of his lungs (He was young, leave him alone), he didn’t have any way to dampen the bright flash of light his transformation gave off. So into the closet he went. 

Flying through his apartment walls and over the battle zone he quickly assessed the lay of the land. There seemed to be two groups shooting at each other from opposite corners of the street. Behind every available place of cover and down every alley, people were hiding. Sneaking into the intersection from their apartment was Red Hood, also assessing the situation from the ground. His eyes raked over both factions, the civilians, the fire escapes and windows, and even the rooftops. Danny was impressed because few people thought to look up. Danny allowed himself to pop back into the visible spectrum as Jason’s gaze passed over the rooftop Danny was hovering over. Nobody else was looking up. Nobody ever looked up.

Danny pointed at Hood, then at the violence. Then after a pause, pointed at himself and circled his hand around to indicate the surrounding area. He hoped Hood would catch that Danny was going to take care of the civilians and general crowd control. Jason nodded and took out two of his guns, checking the safety and loads before focusing on the task ahead. Danny faded back to invisibility and looked around for the most vulnerable of the civilians to get them out first.

****

The firefight took much longer to handle than Danny expected. He was used to one on one or maybe himself versus a group, but never a gang war like this. Never with so many people. So many combatants. So many innocents in the line of fire. 

The noise in the streets had been like listening to a bag of popcorn. Shots overlapping. Echoing endlessly. A constant incomprehensible cacophony of gunfire. As Danny got more civilians to safety, the density of noise began to wane. Little by little the gunfire spread out as Hood disabled the shooters and their weapons until it went from constant noise to just isolated pops to silence. 

Danny allowed himself to become visible atop the same roof as earlier when he noticed Jason looking for him once more. Danny held his fist out, thumb to the side, head cocked in question. Red Hood returned the thumb out fist and turned it up briefly, before pointing with his thumb over his shoulder back towards their apartments. Danny turned up his thumb to match and nodded before disappearing and leaving Hood to the mercy of the converging Bats. Danny didn’t even remember them showing up. He was so focused on getting people to safety. He was glad Jason had help though. He sped back to his own apartment to wait. To pace restlessly and hope that Hood hadn’t been hurt.

****

Jason was annoyed. Bruce was annoying for trying to act like he was in charge while standing in Jason’s damn apartment. Tim was annoying, standing off to the side while silently judging Jason’s lack of coffee choices. Oracle was annoying for sending Bats his way when she heard him get winged by a stray round at the beginning of the firefight. He was even annoyed with himself for somehow missing that Danny was apparently a vigilante? Or maybe a rogue? He needed them to leave. He needed to check on Danny. There was clearly some kind of powers involved but nothing to say that Danny couldn’t be hurt. That he wasn’t hurt. He’d seen Danny peek his head around the window frame three separate times before literally disappearing from view each time. Clearly waiting until Jason was alone again to talk.

“Look.” Jason interrupted whatever Bruce was saying. “I’m tired. I was already in for the night before that clusterfuck even began. I need you both out of my place because I have a date with a cup of tea and possibly a shot of whiskey.” Jason stalked over and opened the front door in clear invitation to leave. “Out. And tell O to mind their own business and butt out of my feeds.” Jason continued to motion out the door. Gentleman that he was, he even waited politely until their capes were all the way out the door before slamming it behind them. Jason took a deep breath and turned around as he felt the air shifting.

“Are they gone yet?” Danny asked. His inexplicable white hair from the battlefield was gone but he was floating a couple inches off the floor. 

Jason wondered if he knew he was doing it as he walked over to retrieve the bottle of wine. 

“Yeah. They’re gone for now. Let’s talk.” 

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Paper Pirates 2.

MDNI

2/3

An unconventional pirate on an unconventional crew, you struggle to solve the problem you created (and understand WTF your captain wants from you).

Shanks x f!reader (fairly gender neutral in this part)

Warnings: Violence, blood, death, broken bones, self-esteem issues, everyone's an idiot

It was supposed to be a two-shot.

A/N: Not thrilled with this chapter's quality, but whatever. PART THREE WILL BE UP THIS WEEKEND AS PART OF MY WINTER SOLSTICE EVENT. There will be smut. Just thought you should know. ;P

Rain patters over your umbrella.

The precipitation has driven the street vendors to shelter, and voices carry from crowded taverns and restaurants.

The downpour casts everything in a haze, but it isn't enough to hide the six hunters.

You shift your cover to your nondominant hand, resting the bamboo pole against your shoulder. Closing your eyes, just for a moment, you take a deep breath. The weather casts a chill over the island, just enough to fog your sigh.

Your keen eye catches more than numbers. And, anyway, you’ve been waiting for these fucks: bounty hunters with the grace and subtlety of green Marine recruits. They’d been asking around for you, making loud threats and boasting over drinks in pirate taverns about their plans to snare on of the Red Hair Pirates.

Calling them amateurs would be too kind.

And you’re in a mood.

“Put down your weapons and surrender!”

The man stands five feet away, leering out of an alley like a common mugger with a shitty little rapier leveled at your throat. He isn’t carrying a gun, so you face him, covering your back with umbrella.

In the time it takes him to blink, you’ve drawn your revolver and plugged his chest with lead. You drop to a crouch, and a musket ball pings harmlessly off your cover. Confused shouts echo over the street.

In the same breath, the woman waiting behind the crates ahead charges with a war cry.

You pull the trigger.

Her axe drops to the mud. Blood pools in the corners of her eyes, fixed on the clouds. The bullet hole in her forehead starts collecting rainwater.

A spearman rushes from behind, and you fling aside his attack with your umbrella, pushing your revolver under his chin. He doesn’t have much of a face left when he falls.

The next two move together, trying to flank. It’s better strategy than the others showed, but they still don’t seem to understand how you’re wielding your umbrella. One kills himself with a point blank shot that ricochets off your shield and through his throat. You bring down his friend with a shot through the eye.

Only one left.

A sniper on the far roof.

You brace to catch the slug with both hands on your umbrella’s pole, and it cuts through a blade of grass to your left. Before you can go after him, he yelps, and you raise your umbrella back over your head to watch the teenager, off-balanced by his rifle’s recoil, sliding off his perch.

He lands with a splash and a crack.

As he howls, clutching his broken leg, you prop the umbrella shaft under your elbow. The cylinder swings out of your revolver, and the casings bounce off the sparse gravel around your boots. You take your time, sliding a single cartridge into the chamber. The boy is screaming, trying to cradle his leg and crawl away.

Five steps, one for each of his dead comrades, brings you to his feet. You sit on your heels. Look him over.

“You need to be incredibly strong or exceptionally lucky to survive this kind of life.” The revolver rises between you. You hold the boy’s eyes as you spin the cylinder.

He’s shaking. Thick strings of snot resist the rain pouring down his face, and although the weather hides some his shame, his bloodshot eyes confirm he’s crying. Well. You cried the first time you broke a bone, too. And you didn’t have death perched by your ankles.

As your finger squeezes the trigger, you know what will happen. Another shot between the eyes and a sixth body in the streets. You smell the gun smoke and feel the recoil in your wrist as the puddle below the rookie turns ruddy.

You’re out of step with the present, reaching just a fingertip past the surface of the future, watching it ripple.

The barest flick of your wrist in the moment present and future meet sends the vision to pieces.

The bullet grazes the kid’s ear, diving harmlessly into the puddle. He takes a minute, staring, breathing, trying to figure out whether he’s alive or dead.

Mercy is for the strong, for people who are so secure in their power they can afford the risk – because it isn’t a risk at all. You aren’t that strong, and you killed to stay alive. Stay safe. Keep working.

But this boy isn’t a threat, and for the first time in a long time, you’re secure in your power.

Your bounty is new and ill-informed. Word hasn’t spread that you’re any kind of haki user, and every fool with a point to prove and a hole in his pocket thinks you’re much weaker than you are.

There’s space, here, as the rain fades and the gutters drip, for a little mercy.

“You aren’t strong. And you aren’t lucky.” You rise, towering over the prone bounty hunter. “Go home.”

He nods, blubbering, and drags himself away. You only watch until he’s cleared the first corner, clearly desperate to escape your sight.

You empty the cylinder again and load five new cartridges. It pays to be prepared, after all. This isn’t the first fight you’ve had in the last few months. Just as you finish your work with a click, a whistle shatters your reverie.

“Oi! Oi! Our nerd is scary!”

A chuckling chorus answers the cry, and you glance over your shoulder to find a herd of Red Hair Pirates watching at the end of the street. Lucky Roux grins, tearing into his latest hock of meat, delighted with himself. Bonk Punch, Monster, Hongo, and a gaggle of lower crewmembers block your way.

Spinning your umbrella to dispel the worst of the damp, you fold it up and rest it on your shoulder. Your revolver returns to its holster, and you smile politely, like these men hadn’t abandoned you for an entire year.

You’re happy to see them, so see so little – nothing really – has changed. It feels like needles in your heart.

“Get bored?” you ask, strolling to meet them. “Stop for the show?”

The corpses you pass don’t matter. Someone will loot them. Someone will bury them. Maybe their hobbled apprentice will claim their bodies.

You’re only half crew, but you’re all pirate these days.

Hongo lifts an eyebrow and lifts his chin so he can look down his nose at you. Unlike Lucky Roux, he’s all commander in the moment.

“You weren’t where we left you. Been following your trail for three weeks.”

You shrug, spreading your arms, playing it light. “Then you must know why I had to improvise.”

Monster screams from Bonk Punch’s shoulder, the monkey holding up one of your new bounty posters. It’s insultingly low, but it’s a clear picture. And it’s a problem.

Teeth grit, you try to smile again, tapping your umbrella against your shoulder.

Are you in trouble? You haven’t done anything wrong. You’ve betrayed no secrets. That’s why you have the fucking bounty in the first place.

“Well, I’d like to hear the story firsthand!”

The needles pierce deeper, and the crew parts for their captain. He swaggers up to you, all smiles and jokes as you roll the umbrella’s handle between your fingers. It isn’t a daydream. It isn’t a nightmare. It’s the same reality you keep telling yourself is fine, fine, fine, until you snap, snap, snap.

“What do you say to a drink?”

“I’ll meet you there.” You point the way you’d been traveling before the fight.  Practicality to the rescue. “The data’s in my lodgings.”

“Work can wait,” Shanks says. “This is a reunion!”

You don’t have anything to celebrate, and the idea of liquor makes you sick. Sitting with everyone like you were one of them when you know you’re not. The past year taught you that, no matter what the bounty poster said about your affiliation.

He can’t read minds, but Shanks must see something in your face, because he changes tac with a snap of his fingers. “Not a bad idea to get your stuff before we drink, though. We won’t remember a thing in the morning.”

His men laugh, you obligingly cringe a smile, and just as you turn to do as you said, a heavy arm falls over your shoulders. It yanks you fast to the captain’s side, and you stumble, off-balance, crashing into him.

He’s so terribly real. A physical obstacle with scars and a heartbeat. Even through his shirt and cloak, he runs warm.

He smells just the way you remember from the close quarters on the Red Force. Juniper, oak, and sake.

If you don’t get out of this soon, your plans won’t matter because your traitorous heart will explode and you’ll drop dead.

Ever since your drunken revelation, you’d wielded denial as an emotional tourniquet, but it does nothing in the Emperor’s overwhelming presence. He smiles, and you bleed internally.

He doesn’t let go, and you steer the pair of you to the shitty little loft over the local stable. Shanks lets you enter first, finally allowing you to duck out from under his arm to unlock the door and disable the basic trap you’d left for petty thieves. He peers around, taking in the spider webs between the high rafters and the drifts of straw left from the loft’s old storage days. You have a cot, your little travel chest, and a window overlooking the street.

Shanks sits on your bed, bouncing like a child. “You owe me a story.”

You grunt and kneel next to your trunk. You’ll take inventory as you regale him with shit he surely knows. No matter how this encounter ends, now that the crew’s been through, the island won’t be safe for you on your lonesome.

“Everything was fine for three months. Standard practice.” You lift out the portfolio you’ve crafted since you last stepped off the Red Force. Trade notes, harvest records, changes in municipal government and population. “Then a ship full of marines pulled into port and swarmed the office I’d rented.”

The bed creaks, and you glance back to see him leaning forward, arm over knee, frown bending his face.

“They insisted I was a good person who bad people used. Said they’d make me rich and safe if I spewed something juicy about you and the crew.” You pause, but you don’t look at your captain again. You listen, though. His breath is steady. Even. None of this phases him. “Of course I told them to go fuck themselves. Then I was a bad person doing bad things for worse people, and they said we’d continue the conversation in Impel Down.”

A flutter of haki shakes dust from the rafters, and you wonder how much angrier he’d be if you’d taken the easy out.

“There were fifty marines surrounding the building. I took out a few dozen and left before reinforcements could arrive.”

“Was that when you were shot?”

Of course he knew. He was just checking your story. Making sure you hadn’t turned rat. Did he get you alone so he could dispose of you without hurting morale if he wasn’t satisfied with your answers? It would be efficient. And Shanks was ruthless once crossed.

“No.” You check through your clothes, the few toiletries worth keeping on hand. Your Berries are where you left them. Enough to live off for half a decade if you had to. “That was at sea. Between islands. I was on a civilian ship and some rookies attacked. They were pretty shit, honestly, but there were a lot of them, and the civilians panicked. Not even sure who landed the hit.”

Your first aid supplies are safely stowed bellow your gun cleaning kit. The ointment for your scar is still half full. Traveling heavy is a bad plan, but you don’t want to lose mobility in your shoulder if you run out between ports. Maybe you should find a local apothecary to whip up a similar treatment. Just so you have some spare.

The glass bottle casts green sprites around the room as you study it. You meet Shank’s warped gaze in the bottle’s reflection and catch your breath.

One by one, your belongings return to the trunk. A tally of your life. A sad collection, frankly. You’d thought you were trading material comforts for a ship full of comrades, for a different kind of fulfillment. But you don’t have that, and you don’t have the trappings of a house, garden, and sleepy old dog to prove you’ve lived, either.

“It’s very difficult, you know,” you muse aloud, “being on your crew and off it at the same time.”

Shanks clicks his tongue, and you hear him lean back from that focused slouch. “You’ve never been off the crew!”

“Semantics.” His objections are so easy to wave off when you know he won’t be your captain for much longer. “My point is, shit like the little drama you saw earlier is becoming more common, and now that I have an actual bounty, it will get worse. When I was just someone who may or may not have been attached to the Red Hair Pirates, I could balance respect and disinterest with the locals.”

“Oh?” Fuck the grin you can hear in his voice. “Attached?”

You won’t be distracted. There are things that need to be said, and you’re happy to have this conversation away from the rest of the crew.

“Captain, I’m being serious. No one showboated for more than a week when I’d settle someplace new, and they were much less concerned with hiding anything underhanded. I could do my job the way I’m supposed to. But now…” The trunk claps shut. You turn the lock. “The situation has changed, so the process should change, too.”

“I’m listening.”

Finished with your work, you angle yourself around, sitting cross-legged on the filthy floor. “I think it’s time I distanced myself.”

You can watch his reaction this time. How he reels back, brow furrowed like you’d just called him ugly.

“What?”

You’ve had a lot of time to think over the past year, and while it’s a complex problem, you’re good at solving those. “I’d still work for you, but I’d train anyone you chose to do a better job with the books on the Red Force, and I could sink into the shadows, build a web of contacts and make myself less obvious. It would be smart to –”

“No.”

He isn’t being rational. And he isn’t being fair. You don’t know how long you can pretend your idea doesn’t sit like a piece of broken glass in your throat, and you have a night of socializing before you can even hope to escape.

“I’m trying to explain I can’t do my job. If Yasopp couldn’t shoot anymore, you’d figure out a different role for him, right? If Roux couldn’t cook. If Beckman couldn’t smoke…”

“Do you want to leave?” His voice is hard, and he’s looking at you so, so seriously.

You can’t help being honest. “No. But it makes sense.”

His restless fingers  tap the hilt of his sword. “No, it doesn’t.”

If he wasn’t so self-possessed, would he have leveled the stable by now? The block? The town?

And why does he care, anyway?

Because he thinks he should. It’s honorable, even it burns you.

“I don’t know what calculations you’re working from, sir, but I’m afraid I have to disagree.” When in doubt, humor works a treat in the world of the Red Hair Pirates. It’s a free pass everyone recognizes. It keeps people sane and keeps drama at a minimum. But Shanks won’t accept your white flag.

“If you can’t do your job like before, fine. But you’re trying to pull away. Why?”

The same reason you left me to fend for myself for a year.

“Because it’s the smart thing to do, and you know it.”

He laughs, but it doesn’t sound friendly. It’s dark, mocking. “Nothing smart about losing a talented crewmate to a case of ennui.”

Your nostrils flare and your spine goes rigid. “Excuse me?”

“If you want to leave, I won’t stop you,” he says. “But first, I want you to tell us both the truth. Just one more time. I’ll even get you liquored up with Beck if you want.”

“Don’t be an ass, Shanks.” You’re on your feet, hissing. He isn’t getting his way, whatever the fuck that is, and he’s lost all pretense of kindness. “I don’t need to humiliate myself twice. And you clearly know what I’m talking about.”

“Eh? Do I? You’re the clever one with your numbers. How about you explain it to me again?”

No. You can’t look him in the eye any longer. You stomp to the window, crossing your arms and scowling at the latest view you’ve hated for being dry, and still, and so much less than the open ocean.

It’s so quiet, you swear you can hear the spiders repairing their webs. Shanks lets it sit, and you know neither of you will leave this loft until he’s finished raking you over the coals for not making the system work the way he wants it to.

Fine. It can’t hurt more than it already does.

“I care about you.” You tell the street. The sun. The tailor shop and restaurant across the avenue. Everyone but Shanks. “Much more than a crewmember should care for their captain, and that always leads to trouble.”

“Care?” He’s crept close, and the question ruffles your hair. “Not the word I remember.”

You tear away from his space, ducking around his left side so he’ll have to work harder to grab you if he insists on being a bully.

“Fuck off. I get it, Shanks.” From a safe distance away, you face him. He wants the truth, so you’ll drown him in it. Let him see your fear and frustration so he’ll understand. “I’m not some starry-eyed civilian you have to entertain so it doesn’t hurt when you leave. I’ve watched the Red Force sail away dozens of times. I’ll live. My plan will work, I just need some den den mushi, and –”

“I’m not trying to leave you.”

You freeze. Hold his gaze. He’s looking at you like the shitty loft doesn’t exist, like he sees the plot of your life differently and is trying to explain the center of a foreign universe.

It’s soft. Nonsensically sad.

With a sigh, he looks at the floor, scoops your trunk under his arm, and heads for the door.

“Even if you don’t need a drink, I want to see how good the sake is around here.”