#why am i being detained | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dracowars · 2 months ago

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of kings and queens | halbrand

pairing: halbrand x númenorean!princess!reader

word count: 6,6k

summary: where halbrand and y/n are forced to marry and he unveils a world she's only ever dreamed of

a/n: how do i manage to make it longer every time you ask?? i have no idea, i just go with the flow & suddenly i'm at 6k~ i have been struggeling with this one but i'm proud of how it ultimately turned out!! feedback is always appreciated and thank you for all the love <3

warnings: angst, forced marriage, panic attack, mentions of sickness, soft sauron

universe: the rings of power

"I won't marry a stranger!", you loudly cry out in anger and slam your fists on the table with all your might, the sheer force of it causing some of the parchments to fall to the marble floor.

"He is no stranger. He is the King of the Southlands", your sister, Queen-Regent Míriel, tells you matter-of-factly.

"Who told you that? The elf?", you spit out, the blood running through your veins seething with anger. "Just a few days have gone by since he was detained in one of our cells, and now he is being hailed as a long-lost king? Do you even listen to yourself?"

"Sister-"

"Don't 'sister' me right now."

Míriel takes a deep breath, resting her weight on the table with both arms, and lowers her head as if she needs a moment to avoid lashing out on you in the same manner you are currently displaying.

"Listen. A marriage like this would rekindle and strengthen the bond between the people of Middle-earth and our kind for generations to come", she explains, her voice calm, but you know her well enough to notice that she has to pull herself together.

"Very well, go ahead and marry him then", you counter and give her a challenging look, the one you have been giving her since you were children. "Why should I be the one to suffer?"

"As the Princess of Númenor, it is your duty to prioritize the welfare of your people over your own!", she yells at you now, her nostrils flaring. You'd be lying if you said you didn't flinch a little when she raised her voice. Usually, it takes longer to unsettle her.

Elendil, who is standing at the large doors to the room, also seems a little shocked. As the two exchange a tender look, however, Míriel's features relax again and she straightens up, slipping back into the role of the wise, majestic Queen-Regent of Númenor.

"I won't accept no for an answer", she tells you, all calm and collected again. No trace left of your loving sister whom you loved so much.

"You have held me captive within these castle's walls for longer than I know and now you wish to ship me off like that?", you scoff in disbelief, crossing your arms in front of your chest, trying to mask how much she's hurting you right now.

"You wanted freedom. Here I am granting it to you."

"This is not freedom", you express your words through gritted teeth, your eyes burning with tears as your words have no effect on Míriel. "You think you can still control me like a child. But you no longer hold any power over me. I won't let you dictate the course of my life."

To emphasize your point, you grab the unassuming tiara adorning your head, smaller and thus in stark contrast to your sister's, and forcefully hurl it to her feet. Several small diamonds come loose and the sound of them scattering around the marble floor makes you shiver.

"I don't care who he is", you say angrily, your hands clenched into fists at your sides while Míriel only looks at you in shock, her eyes wide. "I won't marry someone I don't know, let alone love."

With these final words, you turn away and walk towards the door, which Elendil quickly opens for you. On his face, you clearly see that he feels sorry about how this whole situation expired. But you don't need his pity.

You stomp out angrily, holding back your tears, your pulse pounding in your ears. You have never told her what you think before. You have always done what she asked of you, been a good little sister because you can only imagine the burden she is carrying. But today she has crossed a line.

When you turn around in the hallway one last time, catching a glimpse of Míriel through the closing door, you see Elendil carefully approaching her to comfort her. From this perspective, she looks exhausted, hurt even. But all you feel towards her is anger. You can't help but roll your eyes and release a heavy breath of air from your lungs.

Undoubtedly, that is the reason why she wants you to marry Lord Halbrand. Because her heart is already taken.

You think back to times when you would have been overjoyed, when you would have been genuinely happy for her. You two would have lain on soft pillows and talked about everything, every little detail. Now, you can find none of these feelings inside of you.

Completely lost in your thoughts, you walk through the large halls of the castle, your home. A home that feels much more like a prison. With your head low, you turn a corner and suddenly collide with a hard wall. Caught off guard, you stumble back until a hand closes around your wrist and holds you tight.

You forget to breathe for a moment when your gaze meets his.

"Whoa there. Where are you headed, my lady?", Lord Halbrand asks you in surprise, a gentle smile on his face as he holds you close, his touch on your skin burning. As soon as you notice this, you break free from his grip and take your distance, smoothing down your dress, which he only comments on with a frown.

He is the last person you want to talk to right now.

"Are you all right?", he asks you with concern in his voice, making you realize that you haven't given him an answer and just stood there in silence. In fact, you don't really have anything to say to him. You just wish he would go back to Middle-earth where he belongs.

"Yes", you finally answer, coldly and curtly. "Now if you'll excuse me."

You walk past him, your shoulders almost touching, and listen to your own loud footsteps echoing through the halls as you walk down the corridor.

"Your demeanour leads me to believe that the Queen-Regent informed you of our plans", his voice calls after you, suddenly bringing you to an abrupt halt.

Our plans? That means they have been talking about this behind your back for who knows how long. You were deemed to lose from the beginning. As always.

"She did", you say, slowly turning around and towards him. He hasn't moved from the spot where you left him moments ago, but his presence fills the entire hallway anyway.

The way he stands there and looks at you, as if you were fragile and pitiable, makes the anger inside of you boil up once more and you walk towards him. Instead of taking a step back, however, he takes one towards you so that he is now towering over you with all his height.

"Listen to my words: I don't know what exactly you hope to achieve with this.. marriage. But it will never happen. I will not marry you", you tell him clearly, emphasizing the last words by poking your index finger into his chest. You don't give him time to answer, but as you turn around you notice the knowing grin that plays around his lips.

You decide not to respond to this and move away from him entirely. As soon as you turn into the next corridor, you finally feel like you can breathe again. At least as much as is possible for you within these walls.

You haven't been able to breathe properly in here for a long time.

You walk to your room, two guards posted on either side of the massive doors, and let yourself through without a word. Once inside, you find your way directly to the balcony, which overlooks the entire city and the harbour. The wind blows through your hair and creates a sad smile on your lips. From up here, you can hear nothing but the wind, the people frolicking down there nothing more than tiny black dots. A single tear finds its way down your cheek and you don't bother to wipe it away. Rather, you are amazed that you can even cry at all after all the tears you have already shed here.

You don't know if it is at that moment, or before, when you threw your crown at Míriel's feet, but you make a decision.

With a goal in mind, you go back inside, into the huge room you call your own and search through several closets until you find what you are looking for. You swap your beautifully ornamented dress for a more simple one, get rid of all your jewelry and put your hair into a casual updo. On the way to the door, your own reflection briefly looks back at you from the mirror across the room and you pause as you look at yourself.

Nothing is left of the little girl who once had dreams and pursued goals.

Taking another deep breath, you open the door and step out. The guards bow, as they always do when they see you.

"I'm going to pay a visit to my father", you explain to them, which they confirm with a short nod. They are about to follow you, but seem to remember that you are now allowed to walk around without guards constantly at your side, at least within the castle's walls. A change that hasn't been in effect for very long.

Nevertheless, you quicken your pace once you are out of their reach, afraid that they will decide to follow you after all. On your way, you make sure to avoid the maids and other guards, hiding behind corners, holding your breath. When you finally arrive at the stairs to the tower that lead up to your father, you stop hesitantly. But it only takes a moment, remembering your conversation with Míriel and all the other terrible events of the past, for you to regain your strength and turn away. With quick steps, you take the next set of stairs that lead down.

As you arrive in corridors that lead to the kitchen and staff facilities, you pay close attention to every little noise. Your heart is pounding so hard against your chest that you feel like it can be heard echoing throughout the corridors. You put your shaking hands against the spot where your heart is and try to calm yourself down. You've never tried to break out of this prison before, you always thought you were here for your own good. But you know better now. The thought of the outside world, which you have encountered so rarely in your life, scares you beyond belief either way.

Your sister's words still roam around your mind, making you clench your fists, until you gather up all your courage. Finally, you make it out of one of the doors, out into the fresh air that greets you lovingly.

However, you have no time to linger and quickly move forward, with careful steps as not to alert anyone. As you walk, you pull a cloth out of the corset of your dress that you had previously hidden there. In one swift motion, you pull it over your head and hide your face behind the fabric, only your eyes visible now.

With these safety measures in place, you make your way to the harbour, away from the castle. The entrances for the staff are guarded, but because of your disguise they let you pass. Once you slip past them, you are immediately surprised by the number of people walking through the streets. The sun is already setting on the horizon and the warm light of lanterns illuminates the alleyways.

With a gentle smile, you watch as two children whirl around, holding dolls that they chase each other with. You follow the mass of people who probably want to celebrate the end of their day in one of the taverns. The closer you get to the center of the city, the market square, the louder and more crowded it becomes. You hear them talking, laughing with each other, arguments are being settled, some young girls dance in the middle of a crowd of people who happily watch and applaud.

Despite the positive and joyful atmosphere, you are overcome by a feeling of sadness and sorrow all of a sudden. These people are your people - and you never get to see them. They don't get to see you unless they enter the castle, and that is something only a few people are allowed to do, reserved especially for the nobles and those of higher rank. But what makes you even sadder is the fact that very few of them even care for you. You are second in line to the throne. Once your father leaves this world, Míriel will be their Queen. Accordingly, interest in you is quite low. You are not even sure they would recognize you if you took off your disguise.

The sad truth is that they wouldn't, and that hurts more than you thought. And these are the people you are supposed to give your life for.

Suddenly everything becomes too much for you. Your ears are ringing, your heart is pounding, your whole body is shaking. No matter where you look, there are crowds of people everywhere. You feel small, constricted, helpless. You are carelessly pushed to the side, shoved forward. Your feet are stepped on, no one apologizes. You try to break out of the crowd, but your head is spinning and you no longer know which direction to go. Your breathing is getting faster and louder by the second. Nobody notices, nobody shows even the slightest hint of interest in you.

When you feel your legs giving way beneath you, you are suddenly grabbed by the arm and pulled into an alley.

You are terrified when you realize that you cannot defend yourself, your body is completely frozen and does not listen to your commands. Only when you feel a gentle hand on your cheek - the cloth must have come loose in all the chaos - and look up do you let out a breath that you didn't even know you were holding in. Lord Halbrand is standing in front of you, his face painted in concern as he looks you up and down.

"What are you doing out here all alone, Princess?", he asks and quickly grabs a hold of your shoulder as you start to drift away again, your legs no longer able to hold you upright. Exhausted, you lean against the stone wall behind you and close your eyes. You don't like that he sees you like this. On the other hand, he just saved you and prevented you from fainting in the middle of a crowd.

"I.. don't know", you whisper in defeat and it takes all your strength to admit it.

"What were you even thinking?", he says quietly, more to himself than to you. It feels like he doesn't want to scold you, but on the other hand he also does want to.

You look into his eyes, his face bathed in warm light from the soft candlelight of the lanterns around you. The wounds that are covering his skin have slowly healed, but even in this dim light you still notice them. Only now, when staring at him, do you realize that he is distracting you from all the noise and hustle, faded into the background.

"Come. I'll escort you back to the castle", he finally offers, his hands still on your shoulders as if he doesn't dare let go of you, afraid that you'll drift into the darkness at any moment.

Once again, you don't react and only stare at him, making the worry on his face deepen. In the meantime, you just can't wrap your head around how a Southlander like him, a low man, who barely knows you and who you've met with nothing but hatred, is worried about you while the people around you, your kind, are far away from even remotely caring about you.

"Can you walk on your own?", he asks, and when you finally nod in agreement, he lets go of you. But not for long, because after he puts the cloth back in its place to cover your features one of his hands wraps around yours and holds it tightly in his grip as he pulls you behind him, up several steps that lead further away from the cheerful scene.

You are grateful that he doesn't ask any questions, doesn't want to know why you were out here in the first place.

"Thank you."

That makes him pause for a moment and his hand applies a little more pressure on yours. In response, he turns to you with a gentle smile and lowers his head in resignation.

For some inexplicable reason, your heart suddenly skips a beat. He doesn't seem to notice the change in your face, however, and walks on. Together you make your way through the winding streets and you are amazed at how well he already knows his way around. You have to admit that it also hurts. After just a few days he's already more familiar with this city than you are.

You can already see the entrance to the castle when Lord Halbrand halts in his step, forcing you to stop as well. Turning to you, he steps closer and lifts your hand. Then, he gently places his other hand on top of it.

"I don't know what you were doing out there", he starts, looking from your hand between his to your eyes. "But rest assured that I'll keep it to myself."

The relief you feel in that moment is indescribable. If your sister found out you had escaped, she would surely reinforce all safety measure to protect you. This feeling doesn't last long, however, when another emotion suddenly overshadows it once he continues speaking.

"A princess like you doesn't belong out here."

He may not notice it, but these words hurt you deeply and make your eyes burn with tears within seconds. Without hesitation, you snatch your hand from him and put some distance between you by taking a few steps back. Your knees still feel weak, but you don't let it show. Lord Halbrand's face meets yours with incomprehension as you do so.

"I know where I belong", you spit out angrily and straighten up. For a moment you actually thought there might be more hidden beneath his facade. Oh, how wrong you were.

With these last words, you leave him standing there and walk the last few meters to the castle without him. Once again, you sneak through the staff quarters into the castle. Although you don't want to admit it, the walls suddenly give you comfort, making you feel safe and protected.

You quickly blink away a few tears and return to your chambers, where you go straight to bed. Even though you are incredibly exhausted and drained, you don't sleep all night. You toss and turn in the sheets, your mind plagued by nightmares until you hear the birds outside singing.

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Annoyed, you slam the door to your chambers shut behind you and lean against it with a huff. Then you slide down to the cold ground and pull your knees closer to you, hugging them against your body.

Once again you tried to talk to your sister. Once again she dismissed your words as if they were worthless.

And that's exactly how you feel right now: worthless. Born into a life that brings you nothing but suffering and pain.

Ever since you were born, you were the one who would never ascend the throne. Who would never rule. And you never wanted to. You would never want to be your sister. But right now, you wish that you were both just born into a normal family, with no wealth or power. At the end of the day, she is still your big sister, the one who has always watched over you. Your mother dead, your father long bedridden - she is the only family you have left.

You miss the times when everything was peaceful. Happy times long gone when two sisters were inseparable. But the years made you believe that this world is not made for anyone to be happy.

You lower your head and let the sadness wash over you like waves finally bringing down a ship, and tears stream down your cheeks. Your body shakes, but you hold back any sobs, crying in silence.

You don't know how long you sat there, alone with your thoughts, the very last tear leaving your eye, but eventually something catches your attention. Something that reflects the light from across the room, lying on your vanity table that wasn't there when you left in the morning. Slowly, you get up and walk over, only to discover a beautiful brooch on top of a small piece of parchment. The design is that of a sun and the brooch is decorated with white and blue diamonds. It's breathtaking to look at.

You glance at the black ink on the parchment and your heart involuntarily jumps once more. The words read: 'Forgive me'.

When you suddenly hear footsteps behind you, however, you don't have time to think about these words any further. In one quick movement, you take an ornate dagger out of one of the drawers and turn in the direction of the noises. What you don't expect, however, is that Lord Halbrand emerges from the shadows behind your bed.

"H-How did you get in here? Who let you in?", you ask, out of breath, your heart pounding. The dagger in your hand is still raised, even as he approaches you. He doesn't say anything, however, just stands in front of you and slowly grabs your hand, which is tightly gripping the weapon. He lowers your joined hands and carefully removes the dagger from your grip, leaning over you to gently place it on the table.

"I was uncertain if my apology would be deemed acceptable, hence I wanted to see you in person to make sure", his soft voice sounds in your ear and sends a shiver down your spine. He is definitely too close to you right now and even though you'd never admit it, it doesn't feel uncomfortable. You look straight into his shining eyes which are not quite blue and not quite green but something in the middle. You swallow because the intensity in his gaze leaves you speechless.

"Get off me", you manage to croak out, sounding anything but convincing. Lord Halbrand notices this too, a smirk playing around his lips.

"I know you don't mean that, Princess. And that, deep down, you have already forgiven me", he breathes in a deeper voice than before and brushes a strand of hair from your face. In an instant, you grab his wrist and stop him from touching you any further. Because you know exactly what his touch does to you. And you simply cannot and do not want to acknowledge that you like what he does.

So far, every encounter with him was exhilarating, thrilling, like you were finally embarking on a long-awaited adventure. He awakens feelings you have kept locked away for a long time, sealed behind thick iron bars. Brick by brick, he slowly destroys the protective walls you have built around your heart.

It scares you.

"Lord Halbrand", you say more seriously now and stare directly into his beautiful eyes while he does not even try to free himself from your grip. "Get out of this room or I will call the guards and have you removed."

At that threat, Lord Halbrand lets out a quiet chuckle and removes his hand from your tight grip with ease.

"Before long, I will become your husband. It's time for you to get used to my presence, my lady", he states and the fury that rises in your eyes at his words is unmistakable. "I am aware that this.. arrangement may not be something you look forward to, but I suggest that you begin to come to terms with it. I fear you have no choice but to agree."

"Don't do this", you plead, and even though you try your best to hide it, your body trembles and your eyes fill with tears. The realization that he is telling the truth makes you feel sick to your stomach. Not wanting him to see your obvious discomfort, you turn your head away, lowering it in the process.

The next moment, however, you are unexpectedly pulled forward and suddenly feel two strong, muscular arms around you. Lord Halbrand hugs you as if his life depended on it. You can't even remember the last time someone hugged you. Especially not like this.

The slight scent of sea salt and smoke greets you and you have to admit that his embrace makes you feel safe, comfortable even. With his arms pressing you against his firm body tenderly, he manages to stop your body from shaking and your head from spinning. Right now, it's just you and Lord Halbrand. No could-haves, no would-haves.

The fact that you are no longer averse to his proximity scares you an immeasurable amount. That is also the reason why, in the next second, you push him away with all your strength, your hands on his hard chest.

"Please, Lord Halbrand. I need you to leave", you almost beg him and when his hand clasps yours on his chest, you look up at him and suddenly feel seen. The way he looks at you is unlike anyone has ever looked at you before.

"Your wish is my command, Princess", he nods and lifts your hand to his mouth, where he places a feather-light kiss on the back of your hand before he walks back to the large doors to your chamber, not taking his eyes off you. You also watch him and wait for him to finally leave you.

"Leave out the Lord next time", is the last thing he says before he disappears.

As soon as you see the door slam shut behind him, however, you run over with quick steps. Only when you get there and reach for the door handle do you stop yourself. What has gotten into you? Overwhelmed by the emotions flowing through your body all at once, you lean your forehead against the door in defeat.

After staying there for a while and taking several deep breaths to calm your rapidly pounding heart, you walk over to the brooch that is still shining at you from the table. Carefully, you place the fragile thing in the palm of your hand and examine it when you suddenly hear a whistle.

Wondering where it came from, you step out onto your balcony and see a few ships leaving the bay in the distance. But your attention is quickly drawn to the person standing in the courtyard a few meters below, looking up at you. You don't have to look twice to know that it is Halbrand.

"Give us a chance", he calls up to you and even from this distance you can see the bright smile on his face. Then he turns around and disappears under one of the archways.

Holding the brooch tightly to your heart, you can't believe that a soft smile creeps onto your lips.

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"His Lordship Halbrand has requested to see you, my lady", one of the guards announces as you step out of your chambers the next morning. The mention of his name makes your heart skip a beat and you straighten up immediately.

"Then I shouldn't keep him waiting", you reply gracefully and let the guard accompany you to the place where Halbrand wants to meet you. You wouldn't have expected this to be the inner courtyard, though. And even less that he would be waiting for you there with two saddled horses.

"I hope you had a good night's sleep, my lady", Halbrand greets you with a gentle smile and notices that your steps immediately slow down when you see him with the horses. "Rest assured, Princess. I have consulted with the Queen-Regent regarding this matter. With her approval, I am permitted to accompany you on a brief ride. If that is what you wish, of course."

You pause entirely. You can't believe he convinced your sister to let you leave the castle, and with only Halbrand as your company as well. On the other hand, you've gotten a sense of how charming and persuasive he can be in the last few days.

Smiling, he holds out the reins of a white mare that is standing calmly next to him. Still a little unsure about the whole situation, you take the reins and stroke the horse gently, but don't take your eyes off Halbrand.

"H-How?", you ask him in disbelief. You can't help but think back to how often you have begged your sister to finally let you leave the castle. The fact that she is allowing this now makes you a little suspicious, but you certainly won't question her motives if it means that you can experience freedom once more, even if only for a few hours.

"We have to be back by sunset", Halbrand winks at you and comes closer, making you take a step back instinctively. When he reaches out his hand, you realize that he just wants to help you onto the mare, so you put your hand in his. Once you feel his calloused, rough yet soft hand, a pleasant feeling flows through you and when you sit upon the mare's back, you feel like you could conquer the world. He mounts his black horse as well and together you lead the horses out of the gate.

You turn around, your eyes fixed on the castle and the guards who make no move to follow you. A sense of relief flows through your body at once. Side by side, you make it out of the city and as soon as you leave the border of the capital, you are greeted by vast meadows and fields, grass gently swaying in the wind.

It doesn't take long before you get your horses galloping over the fields. Your white mare is a little faster than his horse, but you hardly even notice. You can only concentrate on the wind blowing through your hair, letting your dress float gently behind you. The air feels liberating and you are amazed at the beauty of nature, the beauty of the island you call home but have seen so little of.

A little later you reach a white sandy beach, the waves calm, seagulls squalling in the distance. The sea suddenly smells completely different from what you are used to and you can't help but smile.

If this is what freedom feels like, you won't ever go back.

Finally, you bring your horse to a stop on the shore, scratching her head, and turn to Halbrand, who stops his stallion right in front of you. Your hair is all tousled by the wind, but Halbrand smiles at you so genuinely that your cheeks flush. Without saying a word, you hop off your mare's back and bend down to bury your hands in the sand. As Halbrand dismounts, you quickly take off your shoes, lift up the fabric of your dress a little, and wade into the shallow water, which laps warmly against your skin.

You can't remember the last time you felt the ocean. As a Númenorean, you are connected to the sea on a deeper level and it feels like, right now, it's showing you how much it's missed you, like you're reuniting with an old friend. The sun is high above you, warming your skin as you close your eyes and enjoy the moment. Then you jump around the water playfully and with so much joy you haven't felt since you were a child.

Until you meet Halbrand's gaze. He is still standing where you left him, the reins of both horses in his hand, watching you enjoy yourself with so much affection in his eyes that you want nothing more than to run to him and fall into his arms, chasing the exhilarating feeling he gave you the day before.

Shyly, you slowly walk back to him through the ankle-deep water, your dress a little wet at the bottom.

"Enjoying yourself?", he asks with a smile, one hand scratching his horse behind the ears as he looks you up and down with sparkling eyes.

"Not exactly princess-like behaviour now, is it?", you shrug, eliciting a chuckle from him that gives you goosebumps and makes your heart beat faster.

"If you want my humble opinion: I think it's exactly how a princess should behave", he replies, the wrinkles around his eyes from smiling making him even more handsome in your eyes. "You shouldn't have to hide from the world."

"I wish I could come here more often", you sigh, ignoring his statement, your mood suddenly burdened by the thought that this moment of freedom will not last long and you will soon find yourself locked up inside the walls of the castle again. Halbrand's expression matches yours, but his gaze lays you bare. Feeling weak, you turn away. You stumble through the sand and finally flop onto the ground on a small dune, neatly placing your shoes next to you. Halbrand leaves the horses in your sight and joins you, sitting just a few meters next to you, your elbows touching.

For a while, neither of you says anything and you just stare out at the waves, which radiate a certain calm.

"As a child, I was very sick. An unidentified illness that was brought over from the continent. Despite having overcome it, I remained in a very weak state, requiring assistance with everything. I was not allowed to go out neither were people allowed to see me for fear of infecting me again. I was always surrounded by guards", you explain, your voice strong, but you have to pull yourself together not to sob. "Míriel was the only one who stood by my side, who made my time a little more bearable. Since our father.. has fallen sick, my sister feels even more responsible for my safety and, just like him, doesn't let me go out. She says it's for my own good and I once believed that, a long time ago. But now I doubt her concern is rooted in anything else than her own fear of losing me."

As soon as the last words leave your lips, you feel free. Free from the burden of not being able to tell anyone. But saying it out loud makes it feel so much more real. Still, pride fills you that you didn't shed a single tear. Halbrand, who was hanging on your every word, looks at you not with pity or sadness, but with a smile.

"Thank you for confiding in me. I can hardly imagine how hard that must have been for you", he tells you, speaking as if all of this is no longer your present. Maybe it's not right now, but it will be once you return.

"I have been wondering why you were locked up inside your whole life", he mutters to himself and takes a handful of sand, letting it trickle through his fingers. "And despite the prospect of freedom, you are against this marriage?"

His words hit you harder than they should, because you have to admit that you haven't given it a thought since yesterday.

"It's about her treating me like I'm a commodity that can be sold for a price", you answer, anger rising inside of you at the thought. "Either she keeps me here and risks a war or she finally lets me leave, with the ulterior motive that I at least bring some added value to Númenor. Besides, no one ever said that I would come with you once we were married."

"You think she would keep you here?", Halbrand asks, astonished. When you nod, something like determination paints his features.

"I won't allow that."

"I fear none of us will have much say in this", you sigh, exhausted and defeated, absentmindedly playing with the sand now as well. "I'm sorry you have to put up with a princess who knows nothing about this world, let alone has seen anything-"

"Don't say that", Halbrand interrupts you firmly, his eyebrows drawn together as if it physically hurts him to hear such words coming from your mouth. "You are perfect in my eyes, Princess."

You are glad he can't see the way your heart has started beating faster. What he can see, however, is the blush rising to your cheeks, which you quickly try to hide by turning your head away, pulling your knees closer to you.

"I feel like no one has ever told you how beautiful you are. In every way", he continues and you are startled when you feel his hand on your chin, gently turning your face back to him. You find it difficult to look at him, his eyes are looking at you so intensely that you no longer know which way is up and which way is down.

"Lord Halb-"

"What did I tell you about the Lord?", he chuckles, shaking his head at your cute behaviour. He loves the colour of pink your cheeks have taken on and how your eyes search his for any sign that he is lying, but you find nothing but the truth in them.

"When I told you that a princess like you doesn't belong here, I meant that a princess like you, who should be a queen, doesn't belong on this island, isolated from the world", Halbrand whispers, his hand moving from your chin to your cheek, where he gently strokes your heated skin with his thumb. "You belong in the very middle of it."

"N-No. I could never be a queen, I was not born for that", you explain, confident in your own words because it's all you have ever heard in your entire life; you would never be queen.

"I will make you a queen", he replies and the conviction with which he says this, the affection that resonates in his words and his features, makes you believe in his words. You desperately want to believe them.

"I promise I will not go without bringing you along", he assures you, holding your face in both of his hands now, his face so close to yours that you only have to lean forward a little to taste his lips. Halbrand notices this too, his gaze wanders to your lips and back to your eyes, which meet his almost pleadingly. As soon as you slightly nod, he connects your lips in a gentle but longing kiss. You gasp, never having been kissed before. Your heart feels like it will jump out of your chest at any moment, the sound of the waves blurs with your heartbeat and your hands get lost in his hair.

The kiss only lasts a few seconds, both of you having to catch your breath, but you don't want to let go of him. You have no idea what this man, this inconspicuous King of the Southlands, is doing to you, but you don't want to think about it because all you know is that you finally feel like yourself again, a feeling that seems so familiar yet unknown.

"I promise I will make you a queen and if it's the last thing I do", Halbrand tells you once more, leaning his forehead against yours before leaving a gentle kiss on the side of your mouth. Smiling up at him, you waste no time to wrap your arms around his neck and connect your lips in another kiss.

You will be his queen. And then you will finally be free.

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vagabond-umlaut · 3 months ago

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what is the point of lukewarm love?

If I am not drowning in it, I have no desire for it.

Ⅰ. my beloved ghost and me

pairing: knight geto suguru x disgraced noble fem!reader tags: historical au; arranged marriage; slow burn; misunderstanding; arguments; kinda enemies to lovers; angst; drama; fluff; smut; hurt/comfort; eventual happy ending; MDNI; warning: ANGST, implied attempted sa (not to the mc), homicide, corruption; physical assault; abandonment issues; 1.7k wc notes: when i say this fic is the bane of my existence, i mean it in every sense of the term :) the chapter title is from here. the fic title and summary are from this post. the header is from pinterest. jjk isn't mine! please comment on the fic masterpost, or send me an ask, to be added to the taglist!! :))

Your husband is a callous man.

Disgustingly so.

But, of course, if you ever say the same to anyone else, they'll be certain to return you a scowl—not that they don't give you one now, but they'll make it much worse then—for how can you speak such ill of your husband: the oh-so-gallant, oh-so-chivalrous knight Sir Geto Suguru!?

Well, the thing is... first off, none of those outraged voices know the man as well as you do.

Secondly, and more importantly, none of them are you.

Born as the eldest daughter of one of the most prominent nobles in the Empire, you had always been told there was a golden future lying in wait for you. Elegant, graceful, refined—you grew up to be the epitome of each of these adjectives and so many more meaning the same. Something your parents and teachers adored you for, your peers resented you for, the general populace looked up to you for.

Long story short, your life was nothing less than wonderful.

But, as is the way with this world, good things seldom last long—yours too didn't.

The wandering hand of a noble.

The terrified screams of your maid.

The said noble's head rolling on the floor.

The pristine white of your gloves drenched in bright red, the same shade dripping from the sharp blade of a sword; that too, one which had always been an idle wall decoration...

Were the noble any lesser person, you know nothing would have happened. You did a right thing, after all, saving a poor helpless girl from the maws of a vile beast.

But no, he wasn't a lesser person.

He was the Emperor's little brother. Lecherous, yes, of course, no one could negate this; but he was His Majesty's youngest brother, eighth in line to the throne, which is why you weren't even taken to trial. The blood on your hands hadn't even dried before every title you owned were snatched away from you, and you were reduced from being one of the most highly regarded young ladies amongst the nobles to being a convicted criminal—

'Attempted theft of a royal jewel.'

'Harrassment of a member of the royal staff when they attempted to stop her.'

'Murder of a member of the Royal Family when they attempted to detain her.'

The story was changed, and with it thus twisted and distorted until not one letter of it was true, you were indeed nothing more than a convicted criminal—

A burden your parents waited not even a day before they decided to get rid of, before they decided to bedeck it in finery of the highest kind and send it to the slaughterhouse under the pretence of your hand being promised to Zenin Naoya.

You ran away.

Of course, you ran away.

Only to be spotted by one of your family's old servants, not even ten miles away...

What happened next is preserved very poorly in your memory—you remember reading in a book once, how one's mind tries to erase things too traumatic for them—but you do recollect the sheer panic and the utter desperation you felt as you were all but dragged back to the manor, you would swallow your tongue before calling it your home again. Oh, and, of course, the clinking of the thousand gold coins as your father awarded them to the man for his loyalty whilst your cheeks stung from the force of your mother's fury.

The Zenin heir cancelled the engagement within the next hour, claiming he had no desire to marry a disobedient wretch like you. When you scoffed and told your mother that neither did you have a wish to wed a cur like him, she slapped you again, drawing blood this time.

Your parents were prepared to disown you.

And you knew. And no matter how much it hurt, you were prepared to be disowned by them, prepared to leave and set out on a new path on your own—which is when your dearest husband entered the stage of your life, and without further ado, set it on fire—

Sir Geto Suguru, the paragon of virtue, so very darling to the Empire.

The envoy of death, so very terrifying to the enemies of the Empire.

The catalyst of your doom, so very dashing as he stood before your parents, the coal black of his hair and his eyes scintillant in the sun as he greeted them with a bow and a courteous smile—its keen shape perhaps not too unbecoming the sharpness of his mien, you thought absently, still blissfully ignorant to what lay in your future, as you stood behind your mother—

It took Geto all but a moment to stand upright and ask your father for your hand in marriage.

It took your blood less than a moment to freeze in your arteries.

Were it before, you know your parents would've rejected such a proposal in a heartbeat; your world and the knight's were far too different, too far apart. But that day, utterly devastated, utterly helpless, you watched them both nearly sob in relief as your mother nodded and your father brought your intended into a hearty embrace.

The wedding took place a day later in an extremely private function.

Not even a month after which, Geto received his transfer orders to some remote town by the sea.

And giving you a set of barely-intelligible, insultingly-perfunctory reasons, more like 'excuses', as to why you couldn't accompany him; you're his wife, for goodness' sake; he dropped you off at your in-laws' in the countryside—people who hadn't even deigned to attend their only son's wedding—

You don't dislike them, though.

You dislike your husband.

The man who, by marrying you, has made himself an angel donning a mortal skin, a person too good for the likes of anyone and everyone; most certainly, much too good for you.

The man who, by leaving you barely thirty days into your conjugal life, has made you even viler in the eyes of others than you can ever imagine it to be possible, believe it should be possible.

The man who has visited his home, his wife, only a handful of times in the last one year, that too only for a handful of hours each time, never staying for more than one day and the next morning.

The man who doesn't care enough to reply to your letters, let alone send you any, only sending his father enough money to feed a village and a curt letter saying he's well on the third day of every month, the words devoid of even the smallest mention of the person he married and brought to his home—

If one says you hate Geto, you will simply nod in response and not breathe one word in disagreement, you think as you wrap the blanket tighter round your shivering form and stare at the waning crescent in the pitch-black sky.

It's lonely.

The moon is rather lonely, you reckon, a faint frown creeping onto your lips...

But definitely not as acutely, as painfully as you are—

After all, the moon hasn't been forsaken by its friends, parents and husband, has it?

The moon isn't forced to endure pitiful glances and scathing glares throughout the day, is it?

The moon need not spend night after night, either sleepless or seeing nightmares where it is abandoned in an entirely new way, tossed aside in an incomparably worse way by others—does it?

No.

You suppose not.

A pathetic little sigh escapes you as you force yourself to relax beneath the warm weight of the blanket, gaze soon drifting from the sky outside the window to your hands, to the pretty little diamond sitting on your left hand—only to stiffen when you hear a pair of feet pad into the kitchen—

"Do you have a fever?" A familiar voice rings out, so sleepy yet so worried, so kind—that too for you out of all the people the concern could be for—you can't help but become a touch misty-eyed.

It's your mother-in-law.

Sometimes, you think she's the only person you won't mind calling family.

The only person who, you don't think you're wrong when thinking, won't mind you calling them family.

Trying to hide a sniffle, you shake your head, lips shifting into a small smile on their own when you can finally discern her in the almost darkness, "Um, no. I'm totally fine, thank you."

"Alright," she doesn't press you any more, choosing to pour herself a glass of water instead. You look away from her, focus shuffling away to rest on the orange lights of the distant houses and huts against the blue backdrop of the night, when a quiet call of your name reaches you.

You turn back, only to find your mother-in-law wearing a knowing smile. She suddenly looks a lot older than you know she actually is—you wonder how your mother is faring—

Is she happy now that her shame of a daughter is away and no longer besmirching the spotless reputation of the family? Or, does she miss her first child, her 'sunshine', living so many miles away from her?

You know better than to ponder over such questions; yeah, you know you do.

"Yes, Mother?" you ask; the aftertaste of the last word not as sour as it used to be in the early days of your marriage, you register absently all the while wondering why her smile appears to grow when you call her thus, "Is—"

"I've raised Suguru to be brave and true-hearted," she says, and you cannot help the way your form grows rigid at the mere mention of his name—nor the burn settling behind your eyes nor how your throat clogs up, words dying far before they're fully formed when the remainder of the sentence clicks into place in your brain—"He will return to you, darling. I'm sure of it."

Hours from now, you will wonder why your mother-in-law is telling you all this.

You will wonder why she thinks your sleepless nights are because of her son, especially when you haven't breathed even a syllable of your distress to anyone; least of all, to her.

You will wonder why she sounds so sure while she's reassuring you of your husband's return.

Hours from now, you will tear your brain apart and put the pieces back together, in search for answers to these and so many more questions.

But now, in this moment, you don't think.

You screw your eyes shut and bite your lip hard enough to taste blood, trying your damnedest not to cry—until you decide you're much too wounded, too too weary to put up a good front—

And you cry, and you cry, and you cry.

general masterlist

#geto suguru x you #geto suguru x reader #geto x you #geto x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #kit posts 📝

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absurdthirst · 5 months ago

Text

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

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Pero Tovar MasterList ||

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.

#pedro pascal #pero tovar #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar smut #Pero Tovar imagine #pero tovar fanfiction #1960s au #mafia au

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denpamen · 3 months ago

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I think I’m going insane at the amount of “There was nothing Curly could really do” posts about Jimmy. Listen to me. And listen to me carefully. The idea that holding somebody accountable would be more devastating than maintaining status quo with collateral damage is exactly what the game is criticizing. Right in your face.

Directing effort to maintaining status quo rather than to help those being hurt is exactly how one is enabled to do worse. When they know there will be active effort to keep them in the place they’re in.

There is always something he could’ve done. Literally anything. I keep seeing people say that there’s no where they could’ve kept Jimmy. Detainment is ultimately not the first solution, you kind of skip over taking away Jimmy’s ability to access certain things, keeping him supervised, hell just actually scolding him. The thing is all of this would’ve disrupted order, which is why it seemed less damaging to just maintain and try to gloss over it and hope it doesnt happen again because ohh that’s my friend and oohh we can’t do anything with him really. This is an unbelievably common attitude in workplaces and schools. This is the commentary in the game. You guys make me nervous.

There is an entire cut scene where the word safety flashes over the screen when talking about locking things up, for gods sake!! I am genuinely curious how you wind up thinking “well there’s nothing curly really could’ve done!”. There is actually an absurd amount of emphasis on what he could’ve been done. Like that’s how we got here.

I’m not saying Curly is irredeemable or you can’t like him or whatever, i’m not concerned. but please. please stop making bad enabling points about this game. i’m on my hands and knees.

#chey speaks #mouthwashing #mouthwashing spoilers

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77gigabytes · 4 months ago

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The Fox's Den {Sylus x Reader}

This just kinda...spilled out of my brain... It started off as a few paragraphs and then spiraled into this, but uh, enjoy.

FAIR WARNING!!! THIS IS INCREDIBLY LONG, I MIGHT HAVE TO SPLIT IT INTO PARTS ACTUALLY IDK

|| Masterlist ||

-Seven

You’re finishing some paperwork at HQ when Jenna slides a manila folder on your desk.

“Advance tech labs has another mission for you.” She says and crosses her arms over her chest, “Hear them out first. Then go take a look.”

As if on cue, your watch beeps with a notification.

You click on it and the mission’s user interface window pops up.

Client: Unspecified - Investigative mission Status: ACTIVE Authorisation: Approved entry - No Hunt Zones: 105, 106, 107, 108

Task details: High-class Linkon residents have been seen carrying protocores to Fox’s Den, a host club, on the outskirts of Linkon. There are suspicions that the club is being used as a trading venue to sell and modify high-grade protocores into the N109 zone.

Objective: INVESTIGATE Fox’s Den FOR PROTOCORE SMUGGLERS. DO NOT ENGAGE OR ELIMINATE SUSPECTS. THIS IS AN INVESTIGATION ONLY.

As you re-read the objectives, Jenna speaks once more, “Have a look through this folder before heading to the Data Sector. ” She places her hand above the folder, “Nero and Tara are waiting there with some more information for you.”

You give her a small nod, “Yes, Captain. Will do.”

You do as you’re told and flick through the contents of the folder.

“Huh, the address is near the N109 zone?” You whisper.

Sylus has a safe house near there, I think.

It’ll be easier to complete the mission if you could crash there every now and then.

I’ll ask him when I have the chance.

There’s a few photos of the club tucked into the folder and from what you can see, it’s quite luxurious.

Entering the club shouldn’t be a problem with the brooch Sylus gave me. Hmmm. I might need to visit Jeremiah some time soon to forge another identity.

You sift through a few more pages and a photo catches your eye. It’s of a blonde woman with a hunter’s uniform and badge but stamped across the page is the word ‘TENEBRA’ in bold red lettering.

“Hmmm,” You hum as you read the sticky note attached, “If encountered, detain immediately? Who is this?”

What had she done to be labelled a Tenebra?

With that thought in mind, you think to your own situation.

Your involvement with Sylus is more than enough grounds to label you a Tenebra, but you brush that thought aside quickly.

“MC?”

Your head perks up from the sound of your name and you quickly press the folder to your chest, “Oh! Tara… Nero. I was just leaving to see you guys, actually.”

“About the case, right? Isn’t it interesting?” Tara grins, “But, yes we came here instead because Nero thinks that the Data Sector is too noisy.”

“They’re blabbing about all the time, it’s dizzying.” He retorts.

He pulls a nearby chair and motions for the two of you to come around, “Come, we’ve got work to do.”

The three of you discuss the case for a while until you ask, “Why am I being sent alone? Aren’t mission usually done in pairs?”

“Yes, well… Technically, it’s only an investigative mission, so the higher-ups don’t think we should waste resources on a mere investigation.” Nero makes quotation marks with his fingers. “You’ve got orders not to engage where possible.”

Tara leans forward to argue, “But even still, Fox’s Den is surrounded by no hunt zones! Isn’t it dangerous?”

“Yes, that’s true, and speaking of which…” He opens some tabs up on his laptop, “As I’m sure you’ve seen, you’ve been approved access to all no hunt zones surrounding the area.”

You nod, looking back at your watch and also the map that spread across the table.

“But that’s not the problem.” Nero continues, “The problem is getting into the club.”

You furrow your brows, “What?” You tilt you head, “Can’t I just go in as a client?”

He clicks his tongue, “They’ve got a very specific clientele.” He says and then draws a rectangle with his fingers, “Invite only.” He emphasises. “Did you think you could just waltz into the place?Everyday?”

You tense for a moment. I thought… with the brooch...

But you can’t tell them about the brooch; They’ll ask you how you got it. So you settle with, “I- well,” you scratch your temple, “I haven’t really thought that far yet.”

...

Your meeting with the two ended just as the sun dipped completely below the horizon

Somehow, they’ve got you a position as one of the hostesses.

You huff. You don’t know a thing about being a hostess.

To be fair, being a hostess would give you the widest variety of intel.

Never had you thought you’d be going undercover like this, but the job must be done, you suppose.

You harshly tug your helmet on and head to Sylus’ safe house on your 270HM.

If he says no, then you can just scout the area on the way back home. That way, the ride there wouldn’t have been for nothing.

“Oh! There you are, little miss hunter.”

You turn around at the voice of one of the twins. “Luke, Kieran?”

“Mephisto told us you’d be here.” Kieran says pointing to the sky where Mephisto circles above the three of you.

“Is Sylus-”

Luke responds before you can finish your question, “The boss has a important business deal, but,”

“You’re more than welcome to stay with us in the meantime.” Kieran finishes the sentence as he opens the gate.

You can almost see the grin behind his mask.

“How long will he be gone?” You ask as you walk with the twins into the house.

“It might not even be until tomorrow that you’ll see the boss.”

“If you’re lucky--” Luke starts

“--I’ve checked your luck index today, miss, you’re not.”

“Kieran!” You smack him on the shoulder

“Anyway,” Luke starts again, “As I was saying, if you’re lucky, he might be done by midnight.”

…

Well now, it’s way past midnight and the boys have convinced you to play card games as you wait. From old maid, to kitty cards, to Big 2.

Eventually, they pull out another deck of cards with haphazardly drawn crows. - “We’ve invented our own version!”

Your brows furrow.

“Crow Cards!” They say in unison.

You’re speechless. You shake your head with a chuckle, but oblige them regardless.

It isn’t long before Kieran has passed out on the couch and you can tell that Luke isn’t too far either.

“Luke, why don’t we get you and your brother to sleep?” You suggest.

“Yeah,” He yawns and give you a nod, “but Kieran can sleep here on the floor.” He snorts, but goes to haul him up anyways.

“I can use one of the spare rooms, right?” You ask

“Of course. The boss has even gotten spare clothes specifically for you in every house. They should just be in the closet of the en suite.” He points to one of the doors, “That one is your room.”

It didn’t take very long after your head hit the pillows that you drifted off into a shallow sleep

Just as the sunlight begins peaking through the horizon, Sylus enters into the safehouse

Mephisto is cawing at him incessantly.

“What has you so worked up?” He frowns.

“CAW!”

Sylus walks through to the main area and sees cards strewn across the floor.

He examines them, seeing the poorly drawn crows, and looks to Mephisto, “What?” Sylus raises an eyebrow at Mephisto, “You led me here because Luke and Kieran made you look like roadkill on these cards?”

Mephisto shakes his head and pecks the cards out of Sylus’ hand. He pitter-patters to the door of the en suite and lightly pecks at it

Sylus’ frown deepens but he follows after him.

And there you were - laying on your stomach atop the sheets.

He lets out a small chuckle, “Tsk tsk, kitten,” he shakes his head, “You’ll catch a cold at this rate.”

He gently turns you so he can lift you up into his arms.

With his Evol, he untucks the sheets and lays down with you in his arms.

You have your head on his chest and legs entangled with his own.

With all the movement, you lift your head blink your eyes open, “Hi.” You whisper.

“I didn’t expect to see you here, kitten.”

You plop your head back down onto his chest, “Yeah, I wanted-” you yawn, “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Oh? You’re asking me for a favour? How unusual.”

You only hum in response and close your eyes again.

For a moment, he thinks that seeing you in the sunrise makes the sunlight a little more bearable.

“What is it that you need, sweetie?” he asks, brushing his lips against the top of your head.

“The location of my mission is near this house.”

“And?” he shoots you a smug smile, “What is it exactly that you’re asking, Dove?”

You narrow your eyes at him, “I’m asking if I can stay here for a little while.”

He chuckles and gently swipes at the space between your brows, “Do you know what you look like right now?” he asks, “A kitten with a temper.”

You untangle yourself from his grasp, “Screw you.”

It quite futile since you end up in his arms once more.

“What mission is so important that the hunter’s association would send you into the N109 zone?” He asks.

“One,” You put your pointer finger up, “It's near the N109 zone. And two,” You lift another finger, “Apparently, there’s some shady trading of high-grade protocores.”

“Hah, when is there not?” He chuckles.

You quickly brush his question aside, “But you’ll let me stay, won’t you?” You pout for good measure.

“I never trade for a loss, dove.” He taps a finger on his temple. “What are you planning to give me in exchange?”

“Um…” You contemplate on the question. “I'll trade any protocores I find that I think may be of use to you?” Your intonation makes it sound more like a question than a statement.

“What makes you think that I don’t already have access to such protocores, sweetheart?” He shifts to lay on his side with his head propped up by his arm.

That’s true. What could you possibly offer to a man who already has everything in the palm of his hand?

You glance up at him, “Well, then… truthfully, there’s nothing I can give you.”

I guess he won’t let me stay after all.

One of the corners of his lips tilt upwards into a smirk, “There is…” he pauses as he procures a piece of paper with his Evol, “Something you can give me.”

You take the paper and frown as you read the contents, “Isn’t this that restaurant by the river? The one with the orchids?”

“Mmm.” He hums in agreement.

“What could I possibly give you there, Sylus?” You ask

He chuckles, “Well, it’s quite simple, really.” He leans forward to whisper in your ear, “I want you to stay with me… Until the moon is high above our heads”

His voice is so close to your ears that you have to turn away

“I want your time.”

A few days have gone by since your…encounter with Sylus.

Now you’re face-to-face with the owner of the club.

He has his hand grabbing the lower half of your face, turning it side to side.

You grit your teeth. Keep it together for the mission, MC. You say to yourself.

“She’ll fetch a hefty price from the clients, that’s for sure.” He chuckles

He almost throws you towards a woman who has a comb and spray bottle in hand.

“Another?” She asks

“Get her ready.” He says as he begins to walk towards the bar where the guests are, “I want her ready for service by the end of the week, Stella.”

The woman, Stella, as you’ve learned, rolls her eyes and grabs you by the arm.

She drags you across to one of the clothing racks and pulls various clothes up to your body. She takes some off, and others she returns.

Your eyes wander as you stay still, and for a brief moment, you see a blonde woman in a red dress, strutting towards the exit.

“Tenebra?” You mumble

“What?” Stella raises her brow.

“Huh? Oh, I was asking If I’ll need to wear a bra.” You gulp hoping she’ll believe your cover-up

She stares at you for a moment but then continues to find you a dress.

After a while, she’s finished with your make up and has given you a run-down of the rules.

“For tonight, you’ll be staying with me.” She says as she walks towards the exit

You scramble after her. You barely catch yourself from bumping into her as she abruptly turns around to address you.

“Keep close and don’t wander. Do you understand?”

You nod, “Yes.”

She wraps a red band across your wrist with ease, “This bracelet means that you’re off limits for the mean time.” She grips your wrist and squeezes, “So I suggest you keep it on your wrist even if your life depends on it. You won’t have this luxury for long.”

What have I gotten myself into?

You spend that night observing each and every one of the hostesses and clients.

Memorising faces, names, voices. Anything.

As the week ends, you’re back at the safe house trying to piece all the information you have so far.

You’re hunched over the coffee table with papers scattered about. Some of which you’ve scrunched up and have unintentionally made into Mephisto’s playthings.

You huff.

Everything looks normal, but clearly that’s not the case if HA has sent you here. They wouldn’t have sent you here if there wasn’t some concrete evidence of a covert operation.

Sylus stops cleaning his gun and smiles as you frown. The bastard.

You huff once more and rub your temples.

“You look as if you’re going into a grand battle.” He chuckles and leans back into the sofa.

“I feel like I’ve gotten nowhere!” You throw your hands into the air.

He carefully returns the gun to it’s case and settles himself on the floor next to you, “Talk to me.” He pulls the pen from your hands and spreads the papers across the table, “We can figure it out together.” He glances at you with the smallest of smiles.

A couple of weeks have gone by and you’ve gotten better at acting as a hostess.

You find that a lot of these clients have a very loose lips - ever so willing to give information with so little incentive

Today, you’re cozied up with a client, your legs in their lap, and an arm wrapped around one of theirs.

You grin internally as he continues to talk about all the protocores he could offer you.

“Oh?” You say sultrily, drawing circles on his arm.

YUCK

“Oh, I do, baby.”

EUUUGHHH

You’re trying your best to suppress a scowl.

“I could give you all -”

You glance up at him as he stops mid-sentence.

Your gaze shifts from his face to the mirror behind him where your eyes meet Sylus’s intense gaze.

What is he going here?

Sylus nonchalantly walks over to the two of you and the room has gone still.

“And who might this be, sweetie?” He glowers at the man, but his question is directed to you.

You open your mouth to reply, but the man beat you to it, “Mr Sylus, I’m-”

"I didn’t ask you.” He says sharply.

“Sylus, what are you doing here?” Your grip around the man loosens and you quickly shift your legs to plant your heels on the floor.

“Well… Sweetie.” He emphasises the endearment as he pulls you from the other man’s lap, “I’m here for you,” He pulls you to his chest

Without another word, he tugs you into one of the private rooms.

With the momentum, you fall to the loveseat in the middle of the room.

“Sylus!”

“When you said you had a mission here, I assumed you were going in as a client.” He locks the door and makes his way to you, “Not a hostess.” He narrows his eyes as he traps you between his outstretched arms on the loveseat.

“Why does it matter?” You glare back at him, “I’m still getting the information I need.”

“You realise that I could get you all that information in the blink of an eye, right?”

You know that. You do. He never lets you forget. Head of Onychinus. King of the N109 zone.

But what does that say about you?

Always relying on someone else to do things.

Always relying on Xavier on missions. Even Rafayel helped you at The Nest. Zayne’s always taking care of your health, and now Sylus, too.

When had you ever truly done anything yourself?

You grit your teeth, “Look.” You say as you muster up all your courage to glare at him, “I appreciate the help, but I’m not some dove that needs saving.” You push at his chest, “I can do this on my own.”

He yields as you push him until both of you are standing.

“I can’t just rely on you for everything,” You say.

Tenebra - the word plants itself at the forefront of your mind

His chest heaves as he looks at you, but he doesn’t speak.

“What am I supposed to say to the association?” You walk towards the door but look back at him with a soft smile, “They’ll label me a Tenebra for even breathing the same air as you, remember? We can’t have that now, can we?”

He takes a hold of your wrist. “You know I’d never let that happen.”

“Mmm.” You shake your head, “I know, but even then… I want to be able to proudly say that I was able to do a mission with my own strength.”

He doesn’t say anything, so you shrug your hand away from his hold.

“So,” You place you hand on the door knob, “Let me do this on my own, Sylus.”

As you leave, he deflates onto the loveseat with a sigh.

As much as it stings that you don’t want to rely on him, he understands what you’re trying to say.

You’ve gone many days without seeing Sylus, not even at the safe house.

At the host club, you return to your dressing room with the brightest smile, you’d think your face would split in half.

That drunk client spilled all the beans. They are smuggling protocores through this host club. He mentioned a warehouse south from here, in the no hunt zone. Luckily Jenna authorised your entry into that zone. You’ll have to check it out after you leave the club.

As you exit, your watch beeps, “Huh? Wanderers? This far from the no hunt zone?”

Your hands settle at the hilts of your hands guns strapped to either thigh.

With vigilant eyes, you scan your surroundings. Trees upon trees in every direction.

Taking soft and steady steps, you head deeper into the no hunt zone.

Eventually you see lights scattered throughout the tree line.

There’s a large building stood in the centre of the clearing.

As you walk closer, you hear voices. “The warehouse.” you whisper.

Then a truck whizzes past and you duck for fear of getting caught.

It drives far into the warehouse and you follow around to get a clearer view.

They seem like specs from this distance, but they’re unloading the protocores from the truck.

The impatient part of you screams to just sneak into the warehouse.

But that fire is quickly extinguished when you notice a few men patrolling the warehouse.

“I need to come back another time. With a plan.”

The next few days you observe the schedules and their protocol for receiving deliveries

You manage to sneak your way into one of the trucks as your shift ends at the host club.

In the truck, you’re shallowly breathing from the adrenaline coursing through your veins. You close your eyes to take a deep breath as the truck slows to a stop.

“This is the last one for today, boys. Let’s do this quick!” You hear a man shout.

Your hand comes up to press at your sternum. Your heart is beating right out of your chest so much so that blood is thumping in your ears.

“You think we’ve got some aether cores to sell today?”

“Tch, I wish.”

As their footsteps grow louder, you take a slow breath-

BEEP BEEP!

You gasp as your hunter’s watch detects wanderers nearby. You grasp at your wrist to dampen the noise. Hunching over, cradling your arm as it beeps again.

STOP! Please!

“What was that?”

What do I do? I’m going to get caught.

“Check it out.”

Think. Think.

From their footsteps, you can tell one of the men has walked into the truck.

THINK!

You don’t have a choice.

With a grunt, you charge at the man, shooting him in the chest, before hauling his body to cover yours as you exit the vehicle.

“INTRUDER!” the other man yells. “INTRUDER! LOCK EVERYTHING DOWN.”

Sirens blare as shots are fired in your direction. One lodges itself into your thigh. With a scream you dump the body shield and limp as best as you can out of the crossfire.

Another shot whizzes past the side of your arm. Another into your lower abdomen as you turn to shoot at them.

Before you make it to the forest, a loud roar shakes the ground and you stumble onto all fours.

A wanderer. A Hoarfrost Wyrmlord, you recognise.

It stomps it’s way towards the warehouse, likely drawn in by all the noise.

You scramble away as best as you can, but behind you are the men from the warehouse.

Your breaths have become rapid and shallow, “Where…”

The Wyrmlord locks onto you, blowing out gusts of air from it’s nostrils.

You begin shooting at the Wyrmlord but it looks unphased.

You duck for cover as it shoot icicles your way.

Protocores. You think. “You must have a shield somewhere.” you say as you peak over the metal pillar.

“You!” A foreign voice takes your attention.

The man has his gun pointed to you.

Swiftly, you kick your leg out in an attempt to disarm him, but he catches it and kicks at your other leg so that you land face first into the dirt.

For a few moments, you wrestle him until he’s got you in a choke hold.

You elbow him in his side and as his grip loosens you try to swing him over your shoulder.

But he uses the momentum to kick off of the pillar, and the action flings you backwards, and your back hits the ground with a thud.

You grunt and struggle to stand.

Before you can shoot him, a Harte Knave slashes through him.

Just as quickly, your bullets pierce though the Harte Knave and it disintegrates in dust.

Another roar shakes the ground as you and many others are pulled into a protofield.

“No!” You scream.

“Sylus!” You yell into the air.

Hoping, praying that he just might appear out of thin air.

...

“CAW!”

Meanwhile, Sylus is seated in another safehouse.

His leg is bouncing up and down.

You should have returned to the safe house hours ago, but there has been no notification of your arrival from the security system.

For every centimetre the moon rose into the sky, so did his worry.

“I appreciate the help, but I’m not some dove that needs saving.”

Your words echoed around in his mind for the past few hours.

“I can do this on my own.”

He knows that. You’re strong. He’s seen it.

“They’ll label me a Tenebra for even breathing the same air as you, remember?“

Tch.

“I can’t just rely on you for everything,”

But something was wrong.

His intuition never failed him.

“CAW! CAW!”

“Mephisto.” Sylus quickly stands and stretches his hand out for Mephisto to land on.

A holographic video pops up and Sylus sees you dropping the lifeless body and limping away into the tree line.

The screen flickers for a moment as you scream his name before you disappear into the protofield.

Even before the video ends, Sylus is rushing out to his motorcycle. He pulls up the coordinates from Mephisto’s previous location history and speeds away.

Why did I leave her by herself? Near the N109 zone nonetheless. I’m a fool.

In the protofield, the Wyrmlord is the last wanderer.

There are only a few other humans left and luckily, the Wyrmlord is beginning to stagger too.

You’ve managed to break it’s shields but you’re heavily wounded and the Wyrmlord has caused the temperature to drop so rapidly that it’s difficult to even pull the trigger.

Sylus… Please…

You know he can’t just appear into a protofield. But somehow his name on your lips gives you enough strength to continue the fight.

Out of desperation, you’ve managed to resonate with some of the Evolvers.

And with great effort, you and another Evolver deal the final blow to the Wyrmlord and you’re transported back to the warehouse.

Sirens are still blaring and the edges of your vision are fading.

“Sylus.” You whisper walking away from the warehouse.

You grunt as you slump against a sturdy tree.

The shards of ice that were lodged into your stomach have vanished along with the protofield and now your blood has begun to soak through your clothing.

With a few harsh tugs, you rip your sleeve off and press it against your wounds.

Everything hurts, but you try to slow your breathing.

Your watch beeps once more.

The adrenaline causes you to perk up at the thought of more wanderers.

WARNING! Critically low blood pressure - severe blood loss. Coordinates have been sent to the nearest Hunter’s Association field lab.

When you wake next, the room is too bright for your eyes to adjust.

You blink and raise a hand to your face to block the light.

Glancing around, you notice it’s like any other bedroom.

You groan as you sit up.

Looking down at yourself, you see the faint outline of multiple gauze pads from underneath your top.

You limp out of the room, using the wall to take most of your weight.

You flinch as you feel a tap on your shoulder, hands immediately going to where your guns would have been.

“Relax, Kitten.” Sylus says, with both his hands up in the air, “I’m just trying to help you.” He begins to lower his hands.

“Sylus…” You croak from the dryness of your throat.

You could do nothing but stare. Was this real?

You were hyperventilating a little, and he’s never really seen you so high-strung.

“You’re safe.” He says as he slowly cups the side of your face.

“Sylus… I…”

He lowers his forehead to yours and you visibly relax.

“You’re safe with me, sweetheart.” He repeats the phrase as he gathers you into his chest.

“I won’t let you go ever again.” He whispers. “Never again.”

I told you it was long XD. I had fun though. If you guys like it, I don't mind fully fleshing this out into chapters. I really enjoyed writing this one actually.

|| Masterlist ||

-Seven

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save-the-villainous-cat · 4 months ago

Note

Could you write a hero who's broke af but is at the villians mansion taking care of them and despite being broke af they get every medicine every grocery villian requires and villian just breaks? Also, vil calls hero 'love'

The villain was where the hero had left them - on the couch, staring at the black screen of their TV.

"Did you know — this will blow your mind — that you can actually turn that thing on?" When the villain turned their head to look at them, the hero pointed at the hilariously large screen. "Or so I've been told."

"Is that so?" The villain's attention came back to the screen and the hero couldn't help but wonder if the villain's misery was growing from day to day.

The hero knew their nemesis loved to be active. They loved exercising, they loved causing trouble.

But ever since the house arrest and the ankle monitor was put on them, they had acted nearly depressed. If the hero hadn’t known them, they would have guessed it was due to their injuries.

A very messed up clavicle and a horribly cracked ankle were just two components of the entire cruel picture of bruises. According to the city, the hero was "the only person strong enough to detain" the villain.

Which didn't really bother the hero as much as the media wanted the public to believe. Hell, there were even petitions for people to sign to "protect" the hero from this incredibly dangerous mission that felt more like a vacation than anything to the hero themselves.

"You look tired," the hero said. "Would you like to take a nap?"

They left the groceries in the dining room and walked up to the couch but the villain was silent. Their eyes were still staring at the dark reflection of themselves. Without hesitation, the hero sat down next to them and debated if they should try to put their hand on the villain's thigh to comfort them.

Against their better judgment, they decided not to.

"You've been looking at that TV for like…30 minutes?" the hero said instead. "Have you eaten the breakfast I made for you?"

They hadn't. The hero had checked - but it didn't seem to matter. The villain didn't say anything.

"Look, I understand this isn't what you wanted. But I am trying to take care of you as best as I can. If you have any problems with your shoulder or if there's something else..."

Suddenly, the villain turned their head and looked at the hero. Under their eyes, the spreading dark circles were a little too visible to the hero.

"I..." The villain sounded absolutely exhausted. "I had this nightmare again."

"The one with me?"

"Yeah, but it was different, it's...ah, forget about it, love. It's stupid," the villain said. They leaned back against the pillows of the couch and closed their eyes as if they were concentrating on something.

However, the hero did notice the soft blush on their cheeks.

"That's for me to determine."

"It's really stupid." The villain looked at them again and when the hero looked into their eyes, they were sure they would have missed the villain's next words. Almost embarrassed, they stared at their own hands. Getting lost in the villain's eyes came a little too easy to them. It wasn't like the hero wanted or provoked it. It just happened. And there was nothing they could do about it.

After all, this was their job. They were getting paid to be here, even though it left them with a really bad aftertaste. Somewhere deep down, they wished they could have done this without receiving payment in the first place. For the sake of compassion.

"Stupid is okay," the hero said. "I think talking about it could help, I think...I think you carry a lot of stuff around and never got to share it with anyone. That's why it is gnawing on you. Especially now that you're injured and rely on someone else."

"You're my enemy, so I shouldn't tell you in the first place," the villain argued.

"Your dream was about me, so technically-" the hero raised an index finger "-I have the right to know about it."

The villain narrowed their eyes. "That's not how it works, love."

If the villain didn't want to talk, the hero supposed they couldn't make them. Obviously, they were familiar with a lot of interrogation techniques but the villain was neither a suspect nor a threat at the moment. The hero sighed softly.

Work occupied their own mind to a nearly worrying degree. Money was a big issue, big enough to give them troubles with falling asleep at night. They guessed that was their own little package to carry around.

But they didn't think it was comparable to the villain's. What they had read in the reports about their childhood...eventually, the hero had stopped reading because it was too painful to even grasp.

"I, uh...got you some stuff. Some medicine, some cookies. Nothing big, really."

The villain's eyes widened.

"Did you pay with the cash I put on the table for you?"

"No, I used my credit card," the hero said. "Wait, just let me..."

They stood up, grabbed the grocery bag and sat down on the carpet of the living room, right in front of the villain. They unpacked every single item carefully and explained how heroically they had fought for the last box of chocolates (which wasn't nearly as dramatic as they framed it to be) or how they nearly died of a heart attack when their card got declined the first time (they merely sweated a little bit more).

"You bought all of this for me?" The villain stared at the chocolates, the painkillers. It seemed like their fingers were shaking a little.

"Well, I wouldn't mind if you shared."

And then, finally, the villain smiled gently.

"You're so stupid." Before the hero knew it, their enemy's fingers pushed hair out of the hero's vision. "You should have used the cash, love."

The hero stared up at them, one of their arms still in the sling, the other still hovering there, their fingers brushing the hero's jawline.

"I wanted to buy this for you. With my own money," the hero said. No. They admitted it. "I know it's not much, but I wanted to make you a little happier."

"I'm not unhappy here with you," the villain said. "You don't make me unhappy. This dream was just a lot and my shoulder really fucking hurts. That's all."

They pulled away and suddenly, the hero felt a little colder. Once again, they feared this wasn't all there was to it.

But it also wasn't their place to poke around.

"Tell me if there is anything I can do for you, though. Okay?"

"I will," the villain said. The hero stood up, not entirely sure if they were actually helpful. They were good at tending wounds but the villain had problems with asking for help. They were good at cooking but the villain didn't seem to have any appetite. They took in a deep breath and before they could reach for the groceries, the villain grabbed their hand. "Okay, I...I kissed you in my dream."

The hero's eyebrows jumped up. "Oh?"

"And it's scaring me. I can't afford those feelings. I can't...I shouldn't want you."

"Shouldn't?"

"I shouldn't." The villain let go and stood up. They cleared their throat. "Eh...do you need help with the groceries?"

And that was the end of that conversation.

For now.

#writing snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #request #an answer for an ask

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widowbitessting · 1 year ago

Text

Flower Petals on the Floor

Word Count: 996

Rating: General with fluffy scenes. SFW!

Summary: All you wanted to do was surprise the Trio! at work. But the stupid security guard is set on ruining your plan.

Dom!Natasha Romanoff, Dom!Wanda Maximoff, Dom!Carol Danvers x Sub!Reader

(I swear I'm not an idiot. I got asks and I lost them. Can I find them? No. I remember it being along the lines of 'a security guard not letting Baby past' so nonnie I am sorry for losing your ask. Just label me stupid I guess. Again, it’s not the best thing I’ve written but I hope you all enjoy nonetheless)

xoxo

It was supposed to be a surprise.

A midweek visit as your classes were called off.

You’d even bought a small bouquet of flowers for each of them.

But would the stupid security man let you in?

No.

No matter what you tried to say, he just wasn’t having it.

“Listen! They know who I am, just let me up!”

“No. Your name isn’t on the list, meaning you can’t come in.” He tells you. “Now go and bug someone else.”

You glower at him, officially irriated.

“I am not bugging - how many times do I have to tell you? I’m their girlfriend!”

“That’s what they all say. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

“Listen boogers for brains, I don’t know who pissed in your coffee this morning; but I’m here to surprise my girlfriends ‘cos they’re stressed out of their minds and you’re sort of ruining it!”

“Heard it all before, love. Now beat it.”

He shoves you and you stumble back.

“Hey!”

“Get out of my building, doll face.”

“Who are you -”

“I will personally remove you if I have to. Leave.”

He tries to shove you again but you manage to scurry back.

You glare at him.

“Fine. Fine. I’m going. There’s no need to push me. God.”

You stomp out of the reception area and back out the pristine glass doors, where the horrible weather is waiting to soak you.

“Fucking stupid…butt face.”

You stop as the door swings shut behind you and pull your phone out of your pocket; texting the Trio.

Y/N (13:14): Hypothetically…if I was trying to get into your building…what would I need to do?

Carol (13:14): Well hello to you too, cutie.

Carol (13:14): We’d have to put you on the OK list; get you a Visitor ID sorted and so on. Why?

You groan.

Why is nothing ever simple?

Y/N (13:15): No reason

Wanda (13:15): Are you downstairs, baby?

Y/N (13:16): Maybe…? I’m outside…

Natasha (13:15): Go back inside love, we’ll be there in a minute❤️

You quickly do as you’re told, rushing back into the warmth of the building.

Only, you’re met with the same security man as before.

He’s glaring at you.

“Listen love, if you wanted to be handcuffed this badly, all you had to do was ask.”

“What?”

He throws your flowers to the ground and spins you around so fast that you don’t even have the time to make a sarcastic comment.

The cold bite of his handcuffs snag at your skin.

“Listen -”

“No, you listen to me, I’ve had enough of your shit. You’re in detainment until the cops get here, is that understood?”

“Cops? But wait -”

“Save it.”

This has to be the most mortifying ordeal of your life.

Everyone in the open reception space is looking at you and you really don’t know what to do.

And to make it worse, your left shoe keeps squeaking.

“I can’t - I can’t go to jail!”

“Should have thought of that sooner, love.”

He moves you so easily that you make the mental note to start going to the gym.

Dragging you towards the turnstiles.

He scans his ID and pushes you through.

Taking you towards the back door when -

“Greg, any reason you’ve got our girlfriend by the wrists?” Natasha’s voice has you both stopping and you just want to sob in relief.

She glares at the man holding you, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh thank god.” You mutter.

“Yeah, that’s kind of our job.” Carol adds.

“Told you I wasn’t lying.” You glare back at him.

“I was just -”

“Being disrespectful to someone who we care about.” Natasha buts in. “Forget being professional, you were being downright rude. Uncuff her. Right now.”

“Yes, ma’am. Sorry ma’am.”

He lets you go and you quickly move to stand closer to your women; Wanda’s hand quickly finds your waist and holds you close.

“Do you do this to all the visitors that aren’t on the all clear?” Carol asks, putting her hands into her pant pockets.

If things hadn’t been so disastrous, you’d have found it incredibly hot.

…Maybe you still do…

“I - no. I…”

“Go on. We’re waiting.” Wanda snaps.

“I was told to make sure no one got in if they’re not on the all clear.”

“And how do we ensure people do get on the all clear?” Natasha asks, as if she’s speaking to a 1 year old,

“Having one of the reception team buzz up to Kate…”

“And did you do that?” Wanda asks.

“No…”

“Why not?” Says Carol.

“…she…she was testing my patience!”

“And the reasonable thing to do was handcuff our girlfriend and cause a scene?”

“I was handling it accordingly.”

“He hurt my arms.” You pout and nestle into Wanda, hiding your smile.

“I think we should have a little chat, Greg, don’t you think? Bring in the Head of Security too?”

The man visibly pales.

“I think that sounds wonderful.” Natasha adds on. “You’re dismissed. We’ll contact you later when we’re ready.”

And just like that, he’s gone. Practically vanishing in thin air.

“Are you okay, my love?” Carol asks, looking you over and inspecting your wrists. She clocks the red marks where the handcuffs were too tight.

“I’m gonna kill him.” Natasha growls, pulling you in for a tight hug. “My poor girl.”

“We’re gonna put you on the clearance list and get you an ID sorted.” Wanda says. “So you can come straight up next time.”

“Okay.” You pout. “I brought you flowers but he…” You point to the flowers littered on the floor.

“Aw, baby girl.” Natasha sighs. “We appreciate the gesture. C’mon. Wanna come see where we work?”

You nod.

Natasha takes your hand and leads you to the elevators.

They open almost as soon as you get there and the four of you walk inside.

Carol presses their floor and you grin up at her.

Until she asks:

“Baby girl. Where’s your coat?”

#natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #carol danvers #reader insert #sugar mommies #natasha x wanda x carol x reader #sugar mommies!asks #spiderbites #smu #little liv writes!#smu universe #sugar mommies drabble

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harunayuuka2060 · 1 year ago

Text

MC and Simeon: ...

MC: Were you just pretending not to see me until now?

Simeon: No. You wouldn't believe how surprised I am to see you here in Celestial Realm, MC.

Simeon: What are you even doing here?

MC: ...

MC: Michael brought me here.

Simeon: Michael?

MC: Hm. I surrendered myself to Thirteen. Solomon stole the ring that contained my soul and gave it to him.

Simeon: I still don't understand... Michael has no reason to do that.

MC: *chuckles* I wish that is true.

Simeon: ...

Simeon: Tell me, MC.

MC: He wants to punish me for causing a lot of inconveniences, especially in the future. *smiles* Though I don't understand why it still matters in this timeline.

MC: When none of you will ever see me again.

Simeon: ...

Simeon: The future, you say?

MC: *nods* In the timeline I was in, you stole the ring of light to save me. And the very reason you were turned into a human and lost your right as an angel.

Simeon: !!!

Simeon: So that did actually happen.

MC: But not anymore, Simeon. You won't have to do that again.

Simeon: You may be right. However, a future without you...

MC: ...

MC: A future in which I'm no longer around would likely bring the greatest relief to everyone involved.

Simeon: Please don't say that... *tearing up*

MC: ...

MC: *hugs him*

Simeon: *hugging them tightly*

MC: Apart from Luke, I'm also happy to talk to you like this.

Simeon: Are you in hiding?

MC: *nods*

Simeon: I'll keep you safe until you can relax and feel peaceful again.

MC: Thank you, Simeon.

Asmo: Lucifer? What's going to happen to Barbatos now?

Lucifer: He's currently being detained in the underground labyrinth. Though I'm sure that can't stop him from escaping.

His brothers: ...

Levi: Um, Lucifer? Don't you think that it is time for you and everyone else to stop obsessing over MC?

Lucifer: Stop?

Beel: I agree with Levi. It's time to grant them the peace they deserve. If I'm being honest... We've already done enough.

Lucifer: ...

Lucifer: You are free to give up. I'm not going to stop any of you from doing that.

Lucifer: And I'm capable of finding MC alone. *immediately left to search for MC's whereabouts*

His brothers: ...

Raphael: *looking at the doll that resembles MC*

*The doll smiling peacefully at him.*

Raphael: *mutters* I hate this.

*chuckles*

Raphael: *his eyes widened*

"I hate this more than you do."

Michael: MC was here. *is in the Celestial Garden*

Michael: And Simeon as well. *smiles*

Michael: What should I do? Ah, I know...

Michael: I'll just have to make you think that things are going your way.

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me mc #obey me simeon #obey me lucifer #obey me asmo #obey me brothers #obey me raphael #obey me michael

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angel-of-the-moons · 1 year ago

Text

Eccentricities

Yandere!Miguel x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: DDDNE, Dead Dove Do Not Eat, NSFW, masturbation, spying, camera usage, Miguel being an overall gross creep, stalker behavior, possessiveness, obsessiveness, mentions of murder from the previous chapter, manipulation tactics

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Woot! Sorry it's taken so long, everyone! I reinjured my back somehow so hopefully I can relax and get comfy enough to be a bit more regular with uploads to this! This chapter is a bit of filler before we once again, get into the heavier stuff later on. (And yeah I totally looked up the recipe for that drink because UGH I want it so BAD)

Part 2

Taglist: @vineberries9 @irmiki @autismsupermusicalassassin @obi-mom-kenobi @rin-matsuoka345-blog @loosecan @6thhokageswife @selarus @heyohalie @sapphire-and-ruby @night-spectrum @famouscattale @thespaceinbetweennothing @lazy-idate @toshimoshiko @saharadesertaj @flaps200 @amelialysm @fried-milkfish @zaunsin @darksidescorner @renareyouhere @vide0-vamp @reverieblondie @bunnibitez @kaqua @peterbparkersburger @tojishugetiddies @aisyakirmann @itslariette @xxeclipze @oharasfilipinawife @amber-content @ixanne2006 @miguels-aranita

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Pt. 3

Several weeks had passed since the incident with the man in the alley, since Spider-Man had come to your rescue.

Several weeks since Miguel first felt the taste of euphoria from claiming you verbally. Even if you didn't know it, or knew he was Spider-Man.

Snapping that disgusting prick's neck was satisfying. It would only have felt better if he had sunk his fangs in his throat and just ripped it out, or curled his talons deep, his fist wrapping around his windpipe and yanking it free of his body.

No, no, he had no time for that, though. He had to hurry up and get home so he could comfort you, his scared Little Bird.

His precious Little Bird.

Wrapping his arm around your shoulders and patting your back filled him with such a sense of accomplishment. Not even fighting and detaining anomalies felt that good. Protecting the multiverse paled in comparison to feeling your trembling little body beneath his hands, seeing your body visibly relax under his touch and in his presence.

Fuck, did he want you so badly. But, he couldn't. Not yet. He had to earn more of your trust.

Or at the very least, coerce it from you.

He felt pangs of guilt whenever he would think too deeply on it, but he realized when he checked your canon events, that... well. There was nothing saying you couldn't be his. That your universe would collapse.

You were safe, because you were in his native universe. You were safe because you were his.

Or, you would be. One way or another.

He wouldn't lose you the way he lost Gabriela. He wouldn't watch as you crumbled in his arms.

He wouldn't be alone again.

The way he rationalized it when his morals clouded his drive to possess you, was that you were precious. A cool drink of water after a run in the desert, a calm spot in the middle of a hurricane.

You were something pure that he needed to have. He needed to keep you safe.

Pulling up the statistics of your previous apartment district definitely solidified his reasoning that you simply couldn't be trusted to make decisions on your own. Why else would someone as naive as you move somewhere with a crime rate that reached nearly 76% in petty violent crime?

Which brought him back around to the garbage he tossed into a random alley in the city.

His fingerprints and DNA tied him to assaults and break-ins at your building and the neighboring district.

So once again... Miguel was merely doing what was best for you.

Thankfully you didn't have many friends, your busy work schedule from before saw to that. You were simply too raggedly worn to make friends. You even admitted that Lyla was probably the only friend you had (Miguel heard in the recordings of your conversations that you were still too new to Miguel as a person to count him as something so intimate just yet).

Another reason he was taking care of you.

You couldn't manage your work-life balance on your own, and you were struggling financially and mentally from the workload and lack of funds.

But because you were living rent free and with a paycheck to boot... Miguel knew that was the first turn of the proverbial key for your situation.

Soon, you would be locked inside your guilded cage where only he could touch and hold you.

You would thank him for it, eventually. He was sure of it. He would have you on your knees, smiling up at him happily, a pretty gold, necklace-like collar around your neck, the key would hang over his heart.

The thought alone made his cock throb.

No, no...

First things first.

He needed to earn you a bit more. He'd realized that with his work in Alchemax and the Spider Society, you and him hadn't had much interaction save for the end of the day, just after he'd come back from patrolling and you were headed off to bed for the night.

Well, lucky for him... Miguel had put in that he was taking a week away from work, and he even let Jess, Peter, and Lyla take control of things back at HQ, just so he can have time to spend with you.

He needed to make sure that you knew he wasn't afraid to be social with you, that he could be friendly and charming. Maybe once he hammered your walls down a bit... Things might be able to flow naturally. Maybe you would be interested in a relationship with him. It would make manipulating you that much easier.

'It's all for her own good. Nobody else can protect her like I can.' He kept telling himself.

'She'll realize that.'

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You had just let the dinner you made finish baking in the oven.

It was nice, you discovered, to have a conversation with your boss and Lyla while you worked.

Miguel--as politely as possible--convinced you to let him help you cook. He made some interesting dishes that smelled amazing, plus you two worked together to make a tres leches cake just for the two of you. He even showed you how to make homemade whipped icing! (That was messy but you two had fun doing it, of course)

He promised he'd teach you how to make chocoflan and a few other sweets, sometime. Maybe over the next week, since he had the coming days off; and your skills lie in appetizers and main dishes, not desserts.

And it was because of this topic that you learned Miguel had a hell of a sweet tooth. You made a note to add a few new items to your grocery list to make up for this oversight.

Because, hey, he's been working so hard, comes home ragged... who wouldn't enjoy coming home to a nice sweet, homemade treat after working all day and most of the night?

Thankfully your time as a bartender, you knew some things about making some good cocktails without skimping on the liquor.

Like, right now.

Miguel had a bar in his mansion (like most rich people in Nueva York, you assumed), and he allowed you free reign of it because he trusted you.

That knowledge made you feel a bit more pride than you normally would, because this rich and powerful man trusted you with bottles of liquor and champagne that cost more than a year's worth of rent at your old apartment.

At the moment, you were making him a cocktail you've always wanted to try, but menus priced them too high and you couldn't afford the proper stuff to make it right at home.

It was difficult, however, because he was so close, with his Adonis-like good looks and the body that surely made any woman's eyes wander. You had to snap your eyes away when he leaned on the counter, his biceps flexing beneath his partially unbuttoned dress shirt; the sleeves rolled up revealing his thick forearms and the veins lacing the gorgeous tanned skin that probably had phlebotomists fainting or swooning at the sight.

You tried so hard to stay on task as you carefully dipped the rim of the martini glasses in marshmallow fluff and rolled the rims in the crushed graham crackers. It took a few tries, because you were so distracted by the sheer inhuman beauty that was Miguel O'Hara, but his voice snapped you to attention.

"So... What is it you're making?" He hummed curiously, his brow quirking up from behind his glasses.

You cleared your throat and held up the two dusted glasses, "It's called a s'mores martini. It's a bit of a pain to make, but I'm told it tastes amazing."

"Ah." He smiled at you, resting his chin in his palm, his plush and pouty lips curled upwards as he watched. "But you've never made it before, hmm?"

You cringed. "Er... Well. I mean... I've seen other people make it plenty of times..."

Miguel laughed a little, the noise softly escaping his lips as you first poured in the Irish cream, heavy cream, the chocolate syrup, and finally the chocolate liqueur into the shaker.

"Of course. We learn from watching others experience, right?" He hummed softly, eyes tracking your hands.

You awkwardly avoided eye contact as you closed the shaker and held it above you, shaking the contents to make sure they were well mixed. You didn't notice because you were a little embarrassed, that Miguel was staring shamelessly at your cleavage as they jiggled with each over-the-shoulder shake of the metal shaker.

"Well... Yeah! Exactly!" You smiled, finally looking back at him. He'd corrected his line of sight swiftly so you wouldn't notice his hungry leering.

Once it was done, you strained the mixture into the glasses slowly, smiling proudly at the fact you didn't accidentally drop or--god forbid--throw the shaker into the glass bar behind you or across the goddamn room.

You then impaled two marshmallows on both of the smaller skewers you'd prepared, and held them up one at a time, lighting them with the small handheld torch.

You always liked yours a teeny bit more burned, so you let yours bubble and blacken a bit more to ensure optimum gooey-ness before placing it above your cocktail, leaving Miguel's lightly toasted before placing his.

They looked damn delicious, if you did say so yourself.

Miguel gave a tiny congratulatory clap as he watched you finish garnishing the drinks, his lips still curled in that smirk of his.

He took the stem of the glass and plucked the skewer from the rim, making a small show of his tongue curling around the sweet fluffy treats before pulling them off the stick and into his mouth.

He felt his gut twist with a fire as he watched you awkwardly avoid looking at him once more as you munched on yours a bit less eloquently than he did, getting some of the delicious sticky treat on your bottom lip. Miguel continued to watch with ravenous eyes as your tongue swiped the excess off and into your waiting mouth.

Miguel cleared his throat to get your attention again, and lifted his glass in a small toast, "Salud."

Your smile could melt his heart any day, and he felt it do a funny little flip as you returned it. "Salud!"

You wanted to squirm with glee when you saw his eyebrows shoot up when the flavor hit his mouth. You could tell by his expression that it wasn't bad; on the contrary, it was the look of someone who tried something new for the first time and absolutely loved it.

"Muy Bien." Miguel grinned. "You're right. This is good. I didn't know this cocktail existed 'til you showed me."

"See?" You chuckled, licking some of the fluff and crackers off the rim before taking another sip (something Miguel couldn't help but shamelessly watch). "I love looking up drink recipes. There's this one made from melon liqueur that involves soaking chunks of the melon in the alcohol, right..."

"That sounds good... Sprinkle a little chili-lime salt on it, it could almost be like a treat I used to eat as a kid with my brother." He grinned at you.

"We'd go to the park, buy a mango fresh from the bodega, some of the salt, and just sit on a bench and eat it after school."

"Oh! You can make it with mangos, too! We could try that." You chirp helpfully, ignoring how your heart skipped a beat

"I'd like that." Miguel chuckled, taking another sip. "Perhaps I can make you a white Russian, too?"

"Oh! That sounds good! I've never had one of those..."

You smiled, taking in the quiet, budding camaraderie between you and your boss. Lyla had long since moved her little holographic self to the kitchen, carefully monitoring the food so it didn't burn, so it was just you and Miguel in the comfortable silence as you enjoyed your drinks.

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God, of course you couldn't keep your hands to yourself. The moment you finished your chores and bade Miguel goodnight, you ran to your room, your heart fluttering like a wild hummingbird.

It was the booze. It had to be the booze.

Especially with these thoughts running through your head. He was your boss.

He was your boss.

You couldn't think about him like that, it would only complicate things. Being friends you could do, but... job romances always ended nasty. Like when you broke up with your coworker at the insurance office.

Bryce was still pissy about that and would harass you on occasion, sending hurtful and suggestive e-messages to your addresses.

But... working for a guy who may as well have been molded by the gods themselves; how the fuck were you to function properly without your mind wandering to less family-friendly thoughts?

The answer: not fucking easily.

Like right now, you were laid back on your cushy, soft bed, your fingers rolling soft circles onto your clit as you plunged your silicone dildo in and out of your wet and messy channel, your slick and juices leaving a shiny and creamy trail along the length as you twisted and pulled, desperately trying to get that orgasm you wanted. Thankfully you had a towel cushioned beneath you to contain your mess...

Hell, you tried watching porn on your phone, but even that could only get you so fired up. And thus, you were stuck with what your imagination could cook up.

And right now it was a heated image of Miguel leaning over you, whispering filthy things into your ear;

"Ah, so wet and needy, doll? Need my help to work you through it?" He would growl, his teeth just barely grazing the shell of your ear.

"That's it, just tip it up a bit more, thrust it harder--like that. Good girl."

You couldn't help the small moans and breathy gasps that trembled free from your lungs as you felt that wonderful pressure begin to curl your toes.

Your fingers slid down, gathering some of your slick as you imagined Miguel praising you, encouraging what you were doing as you used your wetness to lubricate your fingers so you could do smoother rolls on your little bundle of nerves.

"Good girl." He'd breathe softly, his voice a hair above a whisper as his breath fanned over your cheeks. You could imagine smelling his cologne and aftershave wafting off of him, his natural musk bleeding beneath it all...

"Get yourself nice and wet. Keep going. So close now, muñeca, so close."

You imagined him then, behind your closed eyes, hissing through clenched teeth as he would smack your hand off of your toy, taking the base in his palm before shoving it roughly up into you.

"Need my help, huh? Your little hands not good enough? Fine."

He'd lean back, staring down at you with heavy, lidded eyes as he roughly fucked you with that pale imitation of a real dick; the bulge in his pants straining against the seams in a way you'd swear they would burst.

Miguel would bring a hand back, slicking his messy hair, the sticky gel coming loose from the sweat and heat that was shared in such a small space between you; and he would rip the buttons of his shirt open as he watched you squeak and mewl as your orgasm got closer.

He'd grin down at you, his crooked teeth gleaming like shark teeth on display as he'd twist and thrust the toy up further and further, hitting every spot you needed with every deft curve of his hand.

"And once I'm done, magdalena, I will show you what a real cock can do to that cute little pussy of yours."

You tossed your head back when your imagination spat that line of dialogue out, and moaned wantonly as your orgasm gushed out of you, every muscle in your body tensing and relaxing all at the same time as the euphoria crashed into you like a violent surf.

You just couldn't contain yourself, crying breathily at the mental image:

"Miguel."

You laid there for what felt like forever, breathing, trying to regain from the intense orgasm that made your head and heart pound.

That's when the post-coital clarity began to set in, and you sat up abruptly, covering your mouth in sheer shock at the fact you just called out his name.

Your boss's name.

You looked around, knowing it was stupid, that he couldn't have possibly heard you from elsewhere in the house, but the flush that crept up your body was there all the same.

Equal parts shame and arousal, honestly...

Thankfully, Miguel didn't hear you.

But you were still none the wiser to the cameras above your bed, pointing straight down at you; feeding right to Miguel's office so he could watch you like his own private peep show.

And you were definitely none the wiser about the thick ropes of cum that covered Miguel's fingers, or how his lips curled into a sick smile as he licked his warm spend from his own hand, his face awash in the dim glow from the monitors in front of him.

Yes. You were going to be a fun little project.

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Part 4: Link

#yandere!miguel o’hara #yandere!miguel #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara atsv

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sergeant-angels-trashcan · 4 months ago

Note

Bestie I NEED to hear your thoughts about Harley and Bruce possibly being secret twins 👀👀👀👀👀

Been thinking about this for WEEKS i fear!!!! This came right as 'rona dragged me down I'm sorry this took so long!!!

I don't know or care about how secret twins happens, what happens in the bedroom of Thomas and Martha and Alfred Pennywayne is NONE of my business unless they invite me which is fine btw

since they're fraternal twins they COULD TECHNICALLY have different dads. am I saying Alfred is Harley's bio dad perhaps and the clown is going to have empty space where his head used to be but I digress. This explains SO MUCH I feel but also we should in no way think that the parents know this. They don't know nor care because THAT IS THEIR BABIESSS. it would probably be Bruce and Harley finding out when they're forty or something because someone needs a kidney. They purposefully forget the information. They don't need it.

And as insufferable as Thomas is with Baby Brucie can you IMAGINE how AWFUL he would be as a Girl Dad tm. I am thinking of your "if you detain one you detain both I KNOW MY RIGHTS" post but with two children!!. Also Thomas would be THEEE cattiest mfer amongst the other dance moms. My god Alfred and Martha would never know peace. Also a million zillion pictures of each parent konked out while holding 2 sleeping toddlers, THINK on it I beseech thee it's so cute. (But then, Thomas accidentally saving/kidnapping Harley from the park and Bruce and Harley INSISTING they are identical twins. Everyone is like no you really aren't until Thomas gives them the most murderous look known to man over their tiny heads. VERY funny when Jason and Cass also do this)

Maybe Harley was very very sickly as a baby and they kept her a secret to keep the press away. I can see family not talking about Martha's pregnancy AT ALL particularly if it was high risk in any way like she would be visibly pregnant due any day and someone would ask her if she was excited about the baby and she would deadass say 'what baby'.

The ideal scenario the Pennywaynes have for their offspring is that they keep the bambini hidden. as far as the press knows one day 18 year olds pop up outside the Wayne Manor as fully formed scions to the empire. You've never heard of them before? GOOD. That was the point.

Also the DRAMA, the ANGST, I think this makes sense with Bruce's weird dynamic with the Joker (though this could work with just siblings ig)?

Bruce doesn't want to kill the person his twin loves because it would hurt his twin, who HE loves. And killing the Joker could result in Harley hating him! Bruce trying so hard to be supportive for Harley and just be there for her so when she finally decides to leave the Joker she knows Bruce has her back.

Bruce knowing all the stuff about what support systems do that helps and hurts victims of intimate partner violence so he's always playing this balancing act of what he feels like he can say/do about him before it affects Harley. And it being his self given job to stop the Joker from doing HIS self given job. If he helps Gotham he hurts Harley. If he tries to help Harley, he hurts Gotham (does very interesting things to the brainworms when thinking about Jason's murder! about why Bruce feels like he can't or shouldn't go after the Joker--because he's proven he will kill a child and use their mother to get them, that is not a man above using his partner to hurt his nemesis!!! and that would be a whole thing for Bruce, he doesn't act because he's genuinely terrified, worried that if he fails he'll lose harley too

idk if the Joker would know about Harley and Bruce being related or Bruce being Batman but I could see this being the turning point for how Harley views the Joker. Like, she'd been going over to the Manor to help Jason talk through his feelings every month for years. Would it have mattered if the Joker knew he was her nephew?)

Also makes the weird sexual tension Bats has with the Joker even weirder if he IS aware of their relationship. He'd be so gross about it. Yes the Joker wants the Wayne twins. He flirts with them in front of the other to piss them off, mostly Harley. Would highkey lie and say Bruce was flirting with him to drive a wedge between Bruce and Harley oh my god I went such a not fun direction with this

Identical twins could be very funny if they were separated at birth no i do not know why they would be separated just roll with me. the one that does not transition is like "why do you have a picture of me as a kid this is creepy what do you mean that's you' . Everyone at college is like ha ha you two look like you could be related! You do the same icky face when you eat pineapple. They dOn'T sEe iT

Maybe she was kidnapped (by like a very young deathstroke or something idk) and SOMEhow Oswald Cobblepot winds up with this feral toddler in his possession. A goon made a terrible life choice perhaps? And Ozzie is just an up and coming crime lord, still settling into the family business, how tf is he supposed to know the Waynes are missing THIS child? if he knew don't you think he'd be extorting people??? I think they could have some very fun and adorable Stacker Pentecost and Mako Mori vibes this man has NO idea how to raise a child but by god!! He will do it right!!! Literally nobody knows about her, he would have people killed for suspecting her existence.

But also take your daughter to work day??!? Harley yelling at incompetent goons in a sweet baby voice. Ozzie is SO PROUD of her, he wouldn't have minded her going into the family business but she's going to be a doctor!! He is just a proud papa!!! Fearsome crime lord The Penguin with sparkle pink nail polish and bows stuck to his head having a tea party with Lil Harley.

I think this is ALSO interesting with the Joker!! I would love if the only reason his dumb ass wasn't taken out the moment he stepped foot in Gotham was because he's Harley's Boyfriend. The only thing stopping the rogues from turning on him is that Harley likes him!! Is he the Gotham version of a crypto-finance bro?

What if it's an older Harley who is kidnapped? Like post Thomas and Martha shooting. It's part of what cements Bruce's notoriety as the Last Wayne. (Everyone asks if he can sense her through their Twin Bond and he gets sooooo mad that's not a real thing!!!! He feels so guilty because if that was a real thing, shouldn't he be able to find her? Shouldn't he know????)

Cut to Batman and Joker in a showdown and there is Harley and Bats CAN'T STOP STARING?!??? why does she seem so familiar? The Joker notices of course and starts saying some very crass things but the IMPORTANT part is that at some point Harley mentions not minding beating up on Batman because she once had a baby brother who was terrified of bats, so she's doing this for him!!! And Bruce is like wait I once had an older sister and I'M afraid of bats?!?!

Harley looks at him REALLY HARD and all of the sudden she's screaming "BABY B????" and roundhouse kicking the Joker into some metal oil drums. NOBODY beats up her baby brother!!!!

The rogues go fucking insane

(the age thing. Harley is technically a day older than Bruce. She was born at 11:50 PM and he was born at 12:05 AM. They make older sibling/younger sibling jokes all the time and think they are very funny. The Batkids would disagree)

#bruce wayne #batman #harley quinn #harleen quinzel #dc brainrot #asks answered #bruciemilf #obsessed with harley being the only reason the joker doesn't get killed all the time #like he was already doing his crime thing but it wasn't until he met harley that he really started gaining traction in gotham

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shirefantasies · 8 months ago

Note

First off, congratulations on 300 followers 🎉 I’m a big fan of your work! I was wondering if you could write about the different elf characters and how they would react to realizing they have feelings for a hobbit! reader?

Thank you & my apologies for the late response on this one 😅 but this is a fun one so let's see!

The Elves Realizing Their Feelings for Hobbit!Reader

Thranduil

Denial penetrates every corner of the woodland king's mind- such a humble creature, known not in the slightest for their ways of allure, and yet you permeate his thoughts so! Surely it was your reaction to the sight of him, the simplicity of your manner that was ever so refreshing. Thranduil knows little more than reverence to a fault, cowing and great shows and yet…you see him. You treat him as anyone else. No fanfare, but no expectations either. No doubts. Thus he works to doubt you less, to make less assumptions about your ability and even jokes about your stature. He finds as you talk that you share a love of nature, all your reverence dedicated almost solely to the earth’s growing things, the way roots seek what they need. Thranduil does the same, you point out, and ever does he endure in his place of nourishment, but sometimes any plant needs a good repotting. Astute, very astute, and yet your words strike his heart like an arrow. You, he wishes to say, are his repotting. But perhaps he should put that more romantically… all the greatest shows of elvenkind for a mere hobbit. Who would have thought? Thranduil reflects with a fond, amazed smile.

Feren

From the moment he grabbed hold of you, knife pressed to the back of your neck, Feren puzzled at the way his heartbeat sped, not yours. You were no threat to him, you were nothing in fact save an intruder in his lord Thranduil's realm, one of many his patrol took into custody. You were the smallest, he noticed, and certainly the least deadly if the startled, pleading look in your eyes was anything to go off of. Why did you keep... No, he could hardly relent, not when he had orders to- "You are afraid?" He found himself whispering to you, hiding his gaze upon you by hovering it over you and the other hobbit. You nod and he begins to whisper words of comfort to you, explaining that while stubborn, his king was nothing if not benevolent and would likely simply detain you. No harm would come your way. When indeed Thranduil sentenced your odd company to imprisonment, he found himself strolling to your cell time and time again, offering you food and drink and answering your rapid fire of questions ranging from what would happen to you to soon what customs were practiced in the Woodland Realm. "I think this place is beautiful," you told him, "I think if I were to rot anywhere, I am glad that it is to be here." "I think so, too," Feren agreed, and why he spoke the next part he still did not know, "And I do not think that shall be your fate." It was not until he walked away from you, considering what things he might bring to show you, that he realized how attracted to you he truly had become.

Legolas

Finds himself studying you, gaze unable to fall from you for too long, searching your every movement. Suddenly his interest in hobbits has increased tenfold; in fact, Legolas begins speaking more to Frodo and Sam about their customs, favorite things back in the Shire. His heart swells further for it just as you, taking in with bright eyes every spray of harebell and piping hot cup of lavender tea with scones and little gift of courtship presented to the hobbit of one's dreams. Pastoral, joyful, many delights absent from the prince's own upbringing- what a breath of fresh air you are! But what does he say to you? If possible, the elven prince finds himself even quieter than normal, simply captivated by your every motion. As a result he leans upon conveyance through action, rushing to your defense in battle and being there to catch you when you fall, enjoying in the briefest moments the feeling of his hands about your waist.

Haldir

Years have worn him. Battles have hardened him. Customs have dictated he be free of emotion as much as possible, or else suppress display of them for decorum. You, by contrast, are so innocent, almost painfully so and every sight of your wide, shining eyes has Haldir swearing to protect you. The world cannot take away your wonder, your sweetness, the good you see in all people. Oh, he cannot even wish immortal life upon you for all its horrors, and does he even wish it for himself? The small being remaining within him cries out for your life, to be swept off to your Shire and work hard at cultivating joy above all else. While that future may not lie ahead of him, he seeks it in every question he asks, every story he requests. Often does he marvel at your hidden strengths and wonders, especially in such a deceptively small package.

Galadriel

Oh, the way you charm and flatter her! Someone so small yet without any fear in the world as you spill the sweetest words before her. Galadriel cannot help smiling, especially when you gently take her hand and she sees just how small yours looks in hers. She begins to dream of ways she could hold you, how she can reach down to cup your cheeks… And then without warning she is lost in reverie. Her space is yours and you all but have free rein of her home. All from these unexpected, wildly blossoming feelings. Secretly she wishes you would still seek her out, but Galadriel knows above all that that choice is yours. She will simply have to wait and see and hope each dream she shares of simple joys like a riverside walk or even drawing closer to you in greater, deeper ways from the recesses of her mind, are shared by you…

Lindir

These unfamiliar sensations he experiences in your presence can only be one thing. The desire to run his fingers through your curls, surely soft as they appear. The way you have become his muse, inspiring more than a single song. You have a greater appreciation for arts than Lindir must admit he would have expected of the Shire-folk, and your wonder has him wishing to experience it all again for the first time. Is he to speak these things aloud? Does he dare? Whatever might Lord Elrond think if his servant were to do such a thing? Not, of course, that he has not wished Lindir great happiness. Happiness. Your smile, so genuine, sincere as your bright words. Yes, you are happiness, and such cannot go unspoken, or perhaps unsung…

Elrond

Many words have been spoken of the quiet strength of hobbits, quite a few of them by the Lord of Imladris himself. You are no exception to this, appearing before him as a little blaze of fire unafraid to make demands at council. He cannot even fight, just chuckle and hear your terms, and he wonders if you take notice of the way the others look at his soft response. Why, he wonders, is he being so giving- simple appreciation for the pastoral little folk and all they symbolize for the joy and hope of the world? Perhaps, but a part of him is forced to admit… He is attracted to you. Much time has passed since Elrond has been met with such a force, and quite simply put it stirs something in him. Much as he has endured in this world, your desire to fight for every joy you've ever known rings true to Elrond's own creation of a house of comfort...in your own special way. He cannot help but smile as he listens to you.

Arwen

Developing a little habit for teasing you, Arwen always manages to slink behind you and offer to help you reach something off a high shelf, voice low and lips curved upward. She is older than her visage suggests, wiser, thus you are not the first hobbit to cross her path and she looks upon you with no great shock. She does, however, seek to show a greater level of respect than the so-called 'little folk' tend to be shown. During discussions with her father and the other elves, Arwen smiles and waves you forward, especially if you happen to be shy, then her affection only grows, a hand falling over your shoulder and her smile widening. The more time you spend together, the more this happens, Arwen taking your hand to wish you well, sliding a hand over your waist to move past you, even playfully nudging you when you run together and always keeping pace with you. She is comfortable with you, she realizes, happiest at your side, and that is when it sinks in: she loves you.

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komoboko · 7 months ago

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𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

Muichiro tokito x gn!reader ・can be read as platonic or romantic ・heavy angst ・muichiro lives in this scenario hurt no comfort ・major kny spoilers ・major character death

Am I a bundle of joy be honest

The day of your death was something Muichiro didn’t think he would ever forget. Memorization was never his strong suit but he knew this would be something that would haunt him.

He never thought of the possibility of loosing you. He knew the mortality rate in the infinity castle was low, even lower when it came to putting yourself on the front line. He just never thought that you would fall along with the many other slayers that loss their lives that same night. He never thought about coming back home alone, how you wouldn’t be making the journey back to see everybody along with him.

His mind is burnt with the image of your body mutilated, blood poured out of you. There was so much blood, to much where anybody would know you were beyond saving. Uppermoon 1, his ancestor had finally crumbled into dust but at what cost? The cost of you being left to rot on the floor until the castle would crumble and destroy itself underneath its own weight? Why did you have to suffer? Why did you have to leave him behind?

7 days. It’s been 7 days since you died and Muichiro struggles, moving slowly through the stages of grief.

It’s difficult for him to look into any photos that included you. His grief that morphed into anger that he expressed alone in the defeating silence of your room. It hurts him to be in there, the memories of you and your presence weigh him down. He doesn’t want to accept the fact you would never return. That your body would never find peace as it was crumbled and turned to ash. That you had to leave him alone on this earth. It hurt him alot it was difficult for him to handle so much grief. It reminded him of the detain of his brother, a memory he didn’t want to remember either.

Death was something that seemed to follow him. His blood flowed with the remains of the Tsugikuni family lineage. A bloodline that was considered some sort of curse, a force of evil and failure for 500 years. Muichiro only lingers in your room, standing in the middle of the room while his eyes face down on the floor. He didn’t want to look up, be met with photos where your eyes were filled with so much light. He couldn’t find it in him to look at your face, the memory of your body still so fresh inside of his mind. It hurt, a pain he didn’t want to bare.

1 month. It’s been a month since the final night before demons were vanquished. It’s then when muichiro memory problem begins to fail him.

When he looks at flowers his chest stings but he doesn’t know why. He walks past places that feel so familiar to him but he can’t remember why it hurts to be around there. Details about you that used to come to him like second nature slowly seep from his mind. He knows your name, your face, your occupation, your birthday, your death date but after that he doesn’t seem to remember anymore. He knows you but knowing you to such a personal level slowly starts to decline.

Your room is still left untouched despite all of this. Your haori that you left on the bed before you went to the infinity castle still lays there untouched. Everything in place how you left it like you would come back and fix it. It hurts him still to walk in there. A burden in his shoulders, one that he doesn’t know how to get rid of. Death was a heavy weight he’s always has had to carry and he wishes he never had to in the first place.

3 months. Things seem to get worse, Muichiro now begins to question even more about things in his own home.

Your room is some place where he’s filmed with less pain and now more confusion. He looks at the things left inside of your room and wonders why they were there. He stares at pictures of you left in there, he knows who’s in the picture yet he doesn’t know why he has it. He knows it’s you, he remembers you but why were you in his home? Why was there a portrait of you and him together that was left on the counter. Why was there a picture of you left on his bedside table.

He knows he couldn’t forget you, he mustn’t but he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know why you play such a signifiant part in the space taken up in his estate. He doesn’t know why you take up such an important place in his heart. Why it hurts so much to see you, even if you look so happy in the picture he has right next to his bed. Why does somebody make him feel so much pain even if he has yet to see them in so long?

6 months. 6 months has gone by since the final battle and muichiro has changed.

Tanjiro who was fully healed now, took the liberty to go and visit muichiro once again. He’s sent him letters in the mail multiple times in the past but it’s always good to see people in person. Tanjiro was happy to see Muichiro outside of his estate, taking up on his request to go out and grab something to eat. Maybe visit some of the now retired hashira’s along the way.

The boy went to muichiro estate to start their trip. He waited by the door for a minute but it wasn’t long for Muichiro to come and open it. He smiled greeting the long haired boy before taking the liberty to step inside. His eyes follow around to see some things have changed. Furniture has moved around and there was boxes near by the door, what tanjiro had assumed was things he planned to get rid off.

His eyes fall onto one box that catches his attention. He strolls over before leaning down to grab a picture that was left on top of the box. Blowing off the dust that covered the photo he found a picture of you. A smile fell on Tanjiro’s face before he turns to muichiro pointing towards the photo. “They were always such a lovely person weren’t they?” Tanjiro says looking down at the photo catching Muichiro’s attention.

Muichiro only stares at the photo in Tanjiro’s hand. His face blank, a usual expression to be seen on his face. Muichiro stays quiet for a moment before opening his mouth, he only had one thing to say.

“Who?”

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vivwritesfics · 9 months ago

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Fake It Till You Make It

Chapter Six - Where Is The Party Princess?

The Princess of Monaco is wild and out of control. She needs to stop being in the tabloids for all the wrong reasons. Charles Leclerc has had a spot of bad press since his very public break up. He needs some good PR. What better way to fix their problems than to pair them up?

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a/n: thank you so much to @nirrahbrii for help with some translations! i don't think this chapter would have been the same without that little world lol

Where Is The Party Princess?

The Monaco Post prides themselves on their ability to keep the public updated on the whereabouts of our favourite royal. We've documented every one of her scandals, from the time where she was fifteen years old and found herself detained by the police, to last year, when she was caught in bed with American actor, Glen Powell.

For the past few years, we have thanked the Princess of Monaco for providing us with such stories. She was a royal like no other, one we found our readers could relate to.

So, that leaves us to wonder, where is the party princess now? It has been a week since we've last seen Princess Y/N. Our sources have reached out to members of the royal family and staff for comment, but only managed to get one reply.

It seems, dear readers, that our beloved party Princess has run away.

"Are you sure you want the party princess to drag you down to her level? Because that's what's going to happen next time we're pictured together."

Charles turned his full body towards her. "What're you saying?" He wore a frown on his face, one that didn't suit him. She realised it immediately. He looked so downtrodden when he frowned. "Do you want to break this arrangement off?"

Once again she shrugged. "Just giving you the option to get out before you end up like Frédéric Archambeau," she said.

"Who is Frédéric Archambeau?"

"Exactly."

Charles sucked in a breath. He drummed his fingers against the arm of the chair and stood up. "That's it," he said, striding towards her. "We can break off this arrangement, if you want, but I'm not going to leave you to here to rot."

She scoffed. "Stop pretending to care."

Immediately, Charles took a hold of her mug and placed it down onto the coffee table. "Come on," he said, taking her hand and pulling her to her feet. "We're going away."

She couldn't stop the laugh that was pulled from her lips. "Fuck off, Charles," she said and pulled her hand out of his.

But Charles grabbed her again. He pulled her towards her bedroom. "Pack a bag, we're going somewhere warm," he said and pulled open her wardrobe.

"Where?" It wasn't a genuine question, more of a challenge. She sat on the bed and folded her legs under her body, watching him. "Where the fuck are you taking me?" Her voice was bitter, filled with venom as she watched Charles.

He found a suitcase under her bed and began throwing clothes in. It was impossible to sort out what was clean and what wasn't, so Charles just threw it all in. "Australia," he said. "Or Spain. We can go wherever."

"I don't want to go with you," she said immediately.

Charles released an exasperated sigh. "I am begging you to go along with this," he said as he crouched in front of her. "Don't even do this for me. Do it for yourself!"

"Why?" She cried. "Why the fuck do you care about me?!"

Charles dropped his head into his hands. "Please," he said quietly. "Just, let me help you."

It wasn't for her, she realised quickly. For some reason, Charles needed this. He needed this trip, she just didn't know why he needed her. "Fine," she said and began filling her suitcase with everything she'd need for a trip away.

A relieved breath left his lips. "Thank you," he whispered.

That was how she found herself in Greece with Charles Leclerc. For the first few days, the tabloids had left them alone. The Monaco press wasn't around to write new crap about her (so they'd been recycling the same old crap).

It took a few days for her to really warm up to him. She knew Charles, sure, but she knew the Charles the world saw. She knew the rich kid from Monaco, the one that the tabloids wrote about, the one that had the tiktok edits made about him.

She didn't know the real Charles. The Charles that loved his friends. The Charles that had so much he wanted to do with his life. The Charles that was genuinely so funny. She knew the F1 driver that doubled as a super model, she knew CL16, not Cha.

Cha. When had she taken to calling him that? It had happened all at once, but she hadn't stopped. It was maybe their second day in Greece, their second day of peace, their second day of getting away from it all.

Every call she'd gotten from Henri, she'd ignored. She didn't need her brother's constant scrutiny. He didn't approve of the trip, that much was clear, but she didn't care. Henri had tried calling Charles, but, at her request, he didn't pick up the phone.

Both the Princess and Charles were used to being waited on through their vacations. They were rich enough that it had become expected. But, for this vacation, Charles wanted it to just be the two of them. No interruptions, nobody to report back to the press.

Just the both of them making the most of it.

She stepped out of her bedroom in the villa and yawned. Her body was adorned in nothing but shorts and a vest top as she walked across the cold stone flooring, heading towards the kitchen.

Charles was already sitting there. He sat in just his swimming trunks, a coffee in front of him as he went through his emails. (As embarrassing as it was to admit, it had taken the two of them two days to work out how to use the coffee machine. She and Charles each had a coffee machine, but this one was different, not as simple as having a 'go' button.)

"Wanna go out for drinks tonight?" She asked as she sat opposite him. Her body was turned towards the kitchen doors, looking towards the pool.

She hadn't had a drink since they'd gotten to Greece. Charles was incredibly proud of her, although he hadn't said anything. "We can go for a few," he answered. Nothing too crazy, Charles wasn't sure what to do with her if she got too crazy.

He was barely able to take care of her after they'd gone to The Hole In The Wall.

Maybe that was what led Charles to suggest something else. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't in good conscience take her out for a night on the town. They'd managed to stay out of the spotlight for this long, and Charles could see how much good it was doing her. Doing both of them.

He wasn't ready to drag her back into it.

"What if we stay here?" He asked, standing up and walking towards the glass doors. He carried his coffee mug with him as he looked at the pool sparkling in the morning sun. "We could have drinks around the pool."

She let out a snort, one she assumed he would have found unattractive. "You still that embarrassed to be seen with me?" She asked through her snort. But then she saw the way his face fell. "I'm joking, Cha. Yes, I'd love to have drinks with you around the pool."

They went about their day, swimming in the pool, lounging in the sun, going out for lunch together (always in big hats and sunglasses. It wasn't the most covert operation, but it was working).

In the evening, Charles attempted to make dinner. He wasn't the best cook out there, but it was something he enjoyed. They'd gotten drinks on their way back from lunch, shopping in the little supermarket on their way back to the villa.

It wasn't supposed to be anything fancy, but she still dressed up. Charles had the nicest shirt and shorts combo that he'd brought with him and she wore a pretty little dress.

He wasn't going to admit that the sight of her walking down the stairs, sitting in the little out by the pool in that pretty little dress, it would have had a weaker man on his knees. Charles didn't know how he was still standing. Maybe because he wanted to help her, maybe because he respected her brother too much to try anything on.

She sang his praises while she ate, a far cry from the girl he'd practically forced to pack a bag just a few days ago. This was a side of her that the world had forced to hide away. This was the side of her he wanted to see, the real her that he wanted the world to fall in love with. Not the her that the world had decided to hate.

When they finished eating, they just sat there, drinking and talking as they looked at the pool. "So, are you actually friends with my brother, or is it just because he's the princess?" She asked as she drank from her wine glass.

Charles let out a laugh. That was exactly the kind of question he'd expected from her. "Henri and I are actually friends," he answered, not paying attention to the way her toe hit his knee (he didn't mind it, not one bit). "I'll admit, I felt bad when people called me the Prince of Monaco, and that may have contributed to me wanting to be friends with him. But our friendship is real."

She nodded as she sipped. "Must be nice having the Prince of Monaco at your every beck and call," she mumbled.

"You're saying that like you don't."

That dry laugh he'd heard so many times before, that dry laugh that Charles hated to hear, left her lips. "Trust me, Cha, I don't." She finished her drink and stood up. "At least, not the real Prince of Monaco."

He couldn't tell whether it was the alcohol that controlled her. But she hiked up her skirt and sat himself in her lap. It was so sudden, so unexpected, he had no idea what to do. Her hands were around his neck. "I'd rather have the unofficial Prince of Monaco at my beck and call. What do you think of that?"

Charles couldn't react. He didn't get a chance to, not when she pressed her lips to his own.

It wasn't slow, it wasn't full of passion. No, it was quick and clumsy. One taste of her lips against his own. And, when she pulled away, she laid her head against his shoulder. "I shouldn't have done that," she whispered as she played with his hair. "Oh, crotte."

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auspicioustidings · 4 months ago

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Kinktober Day 9

Moniker: Nik Risk Level: N/A. Nik has never been detained and is visiting freely. Brief: Phone sex Safeword: Refer to first brief. Since you’re not in any danger I convinced Price to let me watch for this one. Would appreciate if you can play to the camera ;) - Soap

The room was more like an apartment than it had been before. You almost threw a fit about how much money this place had to throw around because there was a full window looking out onto the moonlit city below. Problem being you weren’t in a city and it was very much morning, so that was a very good screen.

Still, you liked it a lot. You were well and truly exhausted and you weren’t entirely sure you would have been able to go through with anything if you had walked in and saw some sort of sex dungeon. This though? The living space of a penthouse with a tv, sofa, little kitchenette and bar? This you could deal with you thought.

When the phone on the coffee table rang you collapsed down onto the sofa to answer it.

“Hello?”

“You sound tired.”

You did not know this voice, but you assumed it was Nik. Russian accent you thought. A vague pool of unease settled in your stomach.

“Uh yeah, last week was a lot.”

“I bet. Are you nervous?”

You chewed your lip and considered. Nik. Valeria had mentioned him hadn’t she? But he wasn’t here, what damage could he do on the phone?

“Someone mentioned a Nikto…”

The man on the phone laughed a booming laugh that made you smile.

“Easy mistake but I am Nikolai, not Nikto. Both codenames but for different men I assure you.”

“Oh thank God. I mean no offense, but I’m just rinsed today. Not that I can’t-! Y’know. I can, I just uh… slow would be nice.”

You could almost hear Soap laughing at you. God when did you get this embarrassing? Your toes curled almost painfully as you fought the urge to hang up and bury yourself in the blanket hanging over the back of the couch.

“Tell me why you are ‘rinsed’” he said, sounding so friendly and easy that you relaxed a bit.

You glanced at the camera, wondered how much of what you did here was conveyed to everyone else. Soap surely must know about yesterday. The fracture was small and hadn’t been deforming so it was going to be left to heal on its own, but you definitely had two black eyes from it that Rudy and Ale had spent most of last night icing.

“Everyone is… energetic” you said cautiously, not wanting to break NDA.

“Ha! Is Price there? He’ll reassure you that you don’t need to watch your words around me.”

“He isn’t. Um, Soap is here? Well not here here, but watching and listening.”

“Of course he is the little pervert. Do you enjoy hot chocolate?”

“I suppose?”

“Good, go make yourself some, there are provisions in the kitchen. I will work on getting you confirmation that you are clear to tell me whatever you want to.”

He hung up. The man fucking hung up and you just gaped at the phone. What kind of phone sex was this?

“He hung up?” Soap asked, popping his head in the door with a lazy grin.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on cameras?”

“Aren’t you supposed tae be diddlin’ yerself tae the dulcet tones of an old Russian man?”

You rolled your eyes and groaned as you forced your weary body to stand.

“Yeah well he told me to make a hot chocolate.”

“Offt, hot and steamy eh?”

You laughed because it was nice to see him outwith a session. He was goofier than you had thought he would be, less intense. His hair was floppy today, not styled, and he was wearing tartan pj bottoms with his chest bare.

“Well come on in then. Hot chocolate?”

“Dinnae mind if I do!”

You had a bitter fight about the correct ratio of powder to milk and you discovered he was very particular about marshmallows. He got the plant based ones because he said the texture of gelatine based sweets icked him out. You were crying with laughter at how he went on about it. Given how he was in bed, you hadn’t thought he’d be easy to ick out about any sort of texture in his mouth.

It was nice. It wasn’t aftercare to bring you down, it was just… hanging out. It was stealing his marshmallows because he had gotten some of the cream on your face. It was him teasing you because when he asked about your day with Price you had hidden your face in your mug to not give yourself away, but there had been no hiding your soft smile thinking about it.

You both chatted away while people watching out of the “window”. Whoever had chosen the backdrop had a sense of humour because the two of you were able to play where’s wally with one of the people wandering the city street being in an iconic white and red stripped shirt, bobble hat and blue trousers.

By the time you were down to the bottom of your mug you were relaxed, content. Yeah everything still ached, but this was just what you needed. A day to chill out with no expectations on your body.

The phone rang and Johnny took your mug with a smile and went to clean up while you bounced back onto the plush couch cushions to answer.

“I hear you’re an old Russian man” you teased.

“Well that’s a first, I assure you that you’re mistaken.”

The noise of panic and the subsequent flailing to sit up straight and put your professional face on invited curious looks from Johnny.

“Ma’am, sorry I thought you were someone else” you said, still intimidated by Kate Laswell more than you could ever say.

“At ease. I’m calling to explain that your NDA pertains to those not involved in the Kennel. While you are there you can speak with anyone about whatever you would like. Hell, they have clearance to know about every top secret op you’ve ever been involved with.”

Well that was both reassuring and low key terrifying. Jesus who were these people? Johnny had wandered over to ask who was on the phone since he had sussed out that at the very least it wasn’t Nik.

“Soap is there? While you are allowed to tell him anything, if you do it will get back to Ghost. And Gaz. And Price. And whoever else he comes across that day. The boy is an insatiable gossip. Nik isn’t, so you can be comfortable with him. Put me on speaker.”

You put her on speaker while squinting in suspicion at Johnny. How much of your time together did everybody else know about? God, that was embarrassing and yet kind of hot to think about, him giving other people a play by play.

“Soap.”

“Yes ma’am?”

“The brief today does not involve you. You can look, but no touching.”

“…yes ma’am.”

She hung up and both of you relaxed your shoulders.

“That wummin’ scares the shite out of me on the phone. In person I dinnae feel it, but when I cannae see her face I feel like I’m in trouble all the time.”

You laughed at him and he grinned back. The phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Did you have hot chocolate?”

“Nik! You nearly gave me a heart attack having Laswell call! I called her an old Russian man!”

“Did you now? Who has been calling me old?”

Ah. Shit.

“Uh… nobody?”

“Strange way to pronounce Soap. I hope he is being good to you.”

“He is” you said with a stupid smile on your face as you glanced over to the man in question who was now minding his own business and looking out of the not window.

“I am glad. He is a good boy when he wants to be. Now, would you like to talk about the rinsing?”

You wanted to. Even with Laswell’s warning that Johnny was a terrible gossip so everybody would know, you wanted to.

“I was with Sin Nombre yesterday.”

“Ah, she is a viper.”

“Oh my God she is! Did you know I have two black eyes and a nose fracture? She was so mean about it as well! So much worse than Keegan was and he was a right wanker. I’m actually really mad at how easily she took me in a fight, I do have training. And she beat the shit out of Ale which felt uncalled for, he’s been nothing but nice. Also do you know why the hell Rudy of all people was detained? He’s such a sweetheart. It makes no sense that he’s been recently detained and Gaz hasn’t y’know? Like don’t get me wrong, Gaz was so nice and he was clearly cut up about going as hard as he did, but he definitely could hurt a civilian carrying on like that.”

Well that certainly got away from you. It was just a lot. The last week had been a lot. You had never had this level of physical intimacy before, but you also were suffering from a lack of friends. They were hard to keep in your line of work and being able to get on the phone and just rant and rave and gossip was something you had always wanted for yourself which felt silly, but at the end of the day the longing for it was there.

And oh he gave it to you. Nik laughed with you about the idiosyncrasies of these people and commiserated on your aches and pains. You wound up talking about everything and anything. No confidentiality, no ‘can’t tell you or I’d have to kill you’. You were free to tell him whatever the hell you wanted and it was wonderful.

You liked him a lot. He had dry wit and took life with no seriousness at all. He told you about Gaz hanging out of his helicopter and you couldn’t believe it was the truth. He had stories upon stories, each more outrageous than the next.

“So… I actually did put on nice underwear today thinking you’d ask about it.”

It was shocking that you were the one propositioning him. You had walked in here thinking phone sex wouldn’t be your cup of tea at all but would be doable. Now? Well you sort of wanted to try it because he was nice and playful and you liked his voice. And yes, maybe because your body was sort of craving a little release. Fuck, your whole system was turning into a needy mess now that it had gotten a taste of hedonism.

“Tell me about it” he said, a raspy sort of purr to his voice that sent a spark straight between your legs.

“It’s pretty. Light blue, little pink flowers embroidered in the mesh.”

“And how much of it is mesh?”

“Most of it. It’s see through.”

“I will have to visit one day to see it in person. Would you like to know about mine?”

“Yes.”

“I will have to disappoint, I don’t wear underwear. And now that I have put my hand down to check, I find I am rather comfortable holding my cock. He seems eager for you tell me all about what’s underneath that pretty underwear.”

You had to clear your throat as you wriggled a little, your pussy very much waking up and interested. You had never done this before and you were flooding with nerves about it.

“I um… well” you mumbled, trying to find any of the fire you had slowly been finding the past week. “My pussy feels needy.”

“Oh miyala, we must deal with that. I want you to put the phone on speaker on the table and get yourself comfortable.”

Your breathing was a little too fast to convince him that you were totally confident in what you were doing, but you put the phone on speaker and gently laid it down before sinking into the corner of the sofa, moving around until you were nice and comfortable.

“Are you good?”

“Yes.”

“I want you to take your clothes off so that Soap can tell me exactly what it feels like looking at you in that pretty underwear you mentioned.”

Oh God, you had forgotten he was even in the room, but there he was, leaning against the not window and looking at you. He gave you a nod that said ‘go ahead’. You swallowed and took your t-shirt off before wriggling out of your pants, letting both items of clothing lay in a heap on the floor.

This felt so sensual. Like you weren’t you, instead you were some confident woman who lounged in lingerie in her lux apartment, unbothered by having one man talk you through touching yourself on the phone while another got him off by describing it.

“She wisnae lying. Very pretty. Can see her nipples through it.”

“Are they hard?”

“Aye, could be harder though.”

“Well then, play with your tits. Don’t go under the bra given it’s so pretty, squeeze over it, nice and soft and slow.”

You let yourself relax back, gaze drifting to the ceiling and softening. The first soft brush of your hand over your breast felt nice, comfortable. God you had been mean to your body, pushing it so hard. Time to be nice with it.

When you rubbed at your more sensitive nipple you whined low and languid.

“Oh that’s beautiful. What happened there?”

“She played with her nipple. Right one is more sensitive” Soap explained, leaning against the back on the sofa at the opposite end from where you were and just watching.

“Give the left some love miyala. She may not be as sensitive but she still deserves to be played with.”

You switched to the left, lazily played with it until it was just as peaked as the right.

“Ah, you must tell me you understand when I give instruction.”

“Yes, I understand sir.”

“Good girl.”

You’d never played with your breasts like this since you couldn’t cum from breast play alone so it felt like a waste of time. Why hadn’t you? This was nice, it just felt nice. Slow pleasure for the sake of it, just because you could. No other plans but this.

“Hmm I can hear the pleasure in your breathing. Just that has me very hard miyala. I’m playing with my balls nice and soft and slow the way you are playing with your tits, but my cock is getting impatient. Will you put your lovely hand down those pretty panties for me?”

“Slow” Soap added.

You gave your tits a firm, loving squeeze before letting your fingers trail sensually down your bare undercarriage, leaving little patterns as you worked over your stomach to the hem of your panties. Fuck, had you ever touched you body like this? No thinking about if it was attractive, no worrying about how you looked, just enjoying the feeling of touch.

“She’s dipping into them now Nik, dinnae think I’ve seen a bonnier sight.”

“Hm I don’t often find myself feeling envy, but I feel it for you today. Fingers on your clit, gentle, slow. Is it slippery already from how you’ve been rubbing your legs together? Gather some more wetness from your hole and make sure it’s so slippery getting friction is difficult.”

“God Nik, sir, I’m so wet already” you moaned, loving how the lightest touch had your body warming and happy. “Please can you touch yourself while I play with my clit? Want you to feel as good as I do.”

Who the fuck said that because surely it wasn’t you. You who had been a virgin until a week ago. Fuck it, it was. And you loved it. And that was ok.

“I’m wrapping one hand around my cock now. Pumping so slow, but I’m leaking so much miyala. You make me feel twenty years younger, I fear I won’t last long with your pretty moans in my ear.”

Your little moans and sighs had nothing on the deep grunts coming from his end. You could hear his hand pulling at his cock, hear how he got faster and the sound turned wetter. It was the most erotic thing you had ever heard and you found yourself speeding up as well, trying to find purchase in the flood of arousal.

“Can I cum?” Nik asked with a groan.

Him asking you that zapped through you with the force of a lightning bolt and you cried out.

“Yes, cum Nik! Fuck, I’m going to cum!”

Your hips bucked off of the sofa and you thrust up against your hand as you rode it out, closing your eyes to focus on the sound of his choked shout as he went flying with you.

When you slowly came down you couldn’t help but breathlessly laugh as you took your hand from your panties and rested it on your belly, the other forearm draped across your forehead. Fuck, that was good. That was so good. Nothing harsh for your body, just a nice, lazy orgasm.

“I made a mess miyala” Nik laughed.

“So did I. The mesh on these feels awful this wet.”

“Go get cleaned up, comfy underwear on. Babushka panties.”

You howled with laughter at that.

“Thank you Nik, this was… really nice. I enjoyed speaking with you.”

“Anytime. Even if it is just to complain, you can call me and I will listen. Good-bye miyala.”

“Bye Nik.”

You heaved up to hit the button to hang up, but Soap beat you to it. You went to thank him and your whole body tensed. Danger. You were in fucking danger. His eyes were blown out, focused on your wet cunt sticking uncomfortably to your panties. There were little half moons dug into his palm from his nails and they were bleeding from how hard he had went.

“Johnny? I don’t want to do anything else today.”

His palm came too quickly for you to get a shout out, grabbing your own that had been laying on your forehead and crushing it to your mouth.

“Dinnae say something ye might regret” he said, as if in a trance while he crushed your other hand to your stomach with his knee.

You couldn’t shout out the word, you couldn’t give the hand signal and nobody was on cameras because you were supposed to be safe with it just being phone sex. He started to lean over you, the knee on you painful and his eyes crazed.

There was a sharp whistle and he snapped his head to the doorway before scrambling off of you.

“I wisnae-”

“Out.”

You expected him to fight, but all that aggressive energy just drained right out of him as he started towards the door. You shakily rolled over to look. You didn’t know the large man standing there. His face was heavily scarred, one cut through his upper lip that made it hitch, but he was handsome with a strong jaw and messy blonde hair cut short.

Soap looked well and truly chastised as he walked out past the man whose eyes stuck to yours.

“Laswell called as soon as she confirmed he was in the room. You weren’t in danger from him princess, I was right here the whole time.”

“Is he ok?”

“He’ll be fine so long as you keep your mouth shut about this. He wouldn’t have hurt you.”

You didn’t believe him, but you did believe that he wouldn’t have let him hurt you.

“I won’t say anything.”

You knew it was stupid and destructive. Soap was a danger to you, at least he had been just now. You should tell Price, get him detained so he didn’t wind up hurting someone. But you were selfish and you selfishly really liked him and didn’t want to see him caged.

“Good.”

The man left, the door closing with a snick behind him. You took a few minutes to calm your racing heart and then went to clean up and have a quiet night.

#mhairi'skinktober

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