#winking eye syndrome | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

absurdthirst · 9 months ago

Text

Rewarded & Rescued {Javier Peña x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 18.2k

Warnings: Human trafficking, kidnapping, drugging, mentions of rape, threats of suicide, mentions of Stockholm syndrome, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex, biting, protected sex, unprotected sex, angst

Comments: Undercover working for Escobar, Javier is given a horrible gift. A woman, an American. Kidnapped from a club and presented to him as a reward. Unable to let you know who he is, all he can do is reassure you that he won't hurt you. Until you work out that he's not quite what he seems.

A/N: Despite being an American, there are no physical descriptions of the reader. Conversations are in Spanish until indicated they are in English.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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

|| MasterList || Javier Peña 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.

“Gomez.” Javier looks up from his spot across the room when Herdanez comes into the room. It’s hard to react when his undercover name is called out but he forces himself to look up when he hears it.

“¿Sí?” He asks, stubbing out his smoke in the ashtray.

“Boss will see you now.” He says and Javier stands up and makes his way into the office. Escobar stands up and Javier pushes down his hatred of the man as he greets him as fondly as he can manage.

“Hermano. You’ve been doing a great job. Blackie said he’s impressed and I want to reward your hard work.” He snaps his fingers and the doors open, a woman stumbling in as she is manhandled by Blackie. He refrains from clenching his jaw. He knows what this is. The reward. “She’s yours. To do whatever you want with. And she’s American.” He grins wickedly, handing Peña your passport and your purse. “She can’t go anywhere without this. Take her and keep up the good work.” He says and Javier clenches his jaw, unsure of how to feel but he knows how to react. There’s only one way. He grins and reaches out to shake the boss’s hand.

“Thank you. She’s perfect.” He says with a smirk and your eyes widen, realizing that you aren’t gonna be rescued by this man.

It had been so stupid to go to that club. Even more stupid than it had been to even come to Colombia. You had risked it, you and the three other girls you had been with. Thinking that nothing would happen to you because you were Americans. Knowing Spanish and speaking fluently didn’t help when you were drugged and kidnapped by a fucking drug cartel. A notorious one at that. Everyone knows about Pablo Escobar. You had joked about buying some coke from him when you were safe in your hometown, planning this trip. Meeting him had been less than joyous though, your friends' fates possibly even worse than your own. They had talked about sharing the others with Escobar’s sicarios, letting all the men fuck them. It seems like you have the privilege of just being raped by one man, instead of numerous ones. “Please.” You shake your head, tears streaming down your cheeks and your jaw hurts where the one they call Blackie had punched you. “I just want to go home.” You beg. “I just want to go home.”

Javier wants to shoot every fucker in there for making a woman plead for their life, for their innocence, but he can’t. He has to pretend like he’s as evil as the rest of them. “You aren’t going home.” He says in English. “She’s going home with me.” He chuckles, speaking in Spanish again, “I’m going to fuck her so hard she splits in two. Can’t wait to see her pretty eyes water when I shove my cock down her throat.” He says wickedly, smirking at the other men. “She’s gonna be screaming out.” He chuckles.

“Are you gonna fuck her ass? It’s cute.” Blackie winks at your horrified face and Javier shrugs, “haven’t decided. Gonna see how she does taking my cock in her pussy. I’m thick so she’s gonna struggle.”

You feel sick to your stomach. So much so that you gag. The only thing keeping you from vomiting is the fact that you are starving, not being fed since waking up in a tiny room after being taken from the club. “Please.” You begin in Spanish and then switch back to English. “Please? I can pay- my parents, they will- what do you want? Please, don’t- don’t do this.” It’s futile, but you have to try, unwilling to become someone’s sex slave.

“Your begging won’t get you anywhere. Nor will your money. Come on chica. I want to get you home.” Javier says in English as he grabs your arm from Blackie. He drags you against him and you struggle. “Don’t struggle. Unless you want me to put a fucking bullet in your brain.” He hisses in warning as he drags you out of the room to Escobar and Blackie grinning and clapping their hands in approval.

“No. No, no, no, no.” You try to fight him, to pull away even with the threat of death. It would be better than your future. You would rather be dead than to endure whatever this disgusting man would have in store for you. The fact that he’s actually attractive doesn’t even register, unable to believe anyone so vile could be remotely good looking. Your wrist hurts from how tight he is gripping it and you feel like your shoulder is going to wrench from the socket as hard as you are pulling back against him. Fruitlessly fighting the inevitable as he drags you out to a four door jeep. “No! Help! Someone please!” You scream, even though there is no one around, obviously planned that way.

He growls at you, “no one is gonna hear your cries here, sweetheart. Just shut the fuck up.” He demands, needing you to be quiet so he can get you up to his apartment and tell you he’s not gonna touch you. He slams the door after shoving you in the back seat and he gets on quickly, locking the doors before he starts the car. You press up against the wall of the car, shaking, and Javier wants to tell you it’s okay but he can’t. He can’t help you right now. “Stop whimpering. Makes it worse.” He tells you honestly, “be brave.”

Biting your lip, you try to do as he says, sure that these men take pleasure in hearing women cry. Your tears still stream down your face, wondering if he will kill you quickly, crying for your friends. Closing your eyes, you try not to sob.

Javi quickly navigates the traffic and parks in the garage, coming around after killing the engine to open your door and he grabs your arm, “come on.” He hisses, practically dragging you into the elevator. When you press up against the wall, he pushes the button for his floor and you shake. When the doors open, you remain pressed against the wall and he shakes his head, grabbing you to swing you over his shoulder, carrying you down the hall to his apartment.

It’s almost impossible to keep from kicking and hitting at him, but you keep yourself limp, making him work to carry you. Trying to see what the apartment numbers are and looking back at the elevator so you can run away the first chance you get. The man you’ve been given to is wearing a gun, tucked into the back of his jeans and you bite your lip, wanting to reach it when you get the chance.

He knows where your mind is at. “Don’t bother. It’s not loaded.” He lies, “bullets are in my pocket.” He walks faster and deposits you at the door as he quickly fumbles with his keys, pushing the door open to push you inside within seconds. The lock clicks as he shuts the door and you stumble back, eyes wide and you’re shaking.

“Don’t touch me!” You spit, getting angry. He might overpower you, but you are going to fight him tooth and nail. Make it difficult for him. “I’ll- I’ll kill you.” You stumble back and look around the living room wildly for anything to use as a weapon.

Javier can't help it. He chuckles, shaking his head. "You won't because I ain't gonna touch you, sweetheart." He can't tell you why but he can tell you that he won't harm you. "I - it's a long story but I had to make a show of it back there. I am not - not-" He emphasizes, "that kind of man. I won't touch you. You stay here with me until I can get you out. I can't risk it yet. Gotta make them think that I have violated you to impress them."

Shaking your head, you scoff, not believing him for a minute. He just wants you to let down your guard, to make it easier for him. He steps forward and you leap back, bumping into the coffee table and knocking a letter opener onto the floor with a loud clatter. Looking down, your eyes widen and you drop down to your knees to grab it as he rushes forward. “Stay back!” You scream, holding the sharp tip to your own neck. “One more step and you’ll have to fuck my dead body before it gets too cold!”

“Jesus Christ“ Javier groans, and shakes his head, unable to believe how dramatic you are being. To threaten to take your own life. When he just told you, he wasn’t going to touch you. He guesses he has to make you believe him by his actions, “there is no need for that, sweetheart. I promise you that I’m not going to touch you. I swear on my dead mama‘s grave and I like my women to be willing. I don’t like a fucking struggle. I want a woman to shake in pleasure, not in fear.“

“Then let me go.” You demand, frowning at him. He doesn’t seem angry you are threatening to kill yourself, just annoyed by wasting his time. “I can’t.” He huffs, making you snort.

“Of course you can’t. Why would you want to give up your gift? Doesn’t matter that I’m a fucking human being! You can’t own me, you don’t own me!” You start to yell again. “I have been threatened with rape, torture, I’ve been beaten and slapped around, my friends are probably raped and murdered too, all because I came to this fucking place and went to a club! Now I want to go home!”

Javier winces, knowing that your friends have definitely suffered a terrible fate at the hands of the sicarios but he won’t let that happen to you. “Listen to me.” He insists, “I can’t let you go because then they’ll know and I - shit - I can’t explain it to you but you got to believe me. Just believe me. I won’t touch you. I’ll make sure you’re fed and safe but you can’t leave.”

You don’t believe him, but it will do nothing more than piss him off to continue to argue with the man. He could just decide to shoot you, so you slowly drop the letter opener from your throat but you don’t let it go. Not fighting him will be as good as it gets.

Javier wants to roll his eyes if you think that you can take him down with a letter opener. “Do you want anything to eat? I doubt those fuckers fed you. I’m not much of a cook but I can do eggs and toast.”

You stare at him for a second. Wondering why, if he’s not like those other men, is he with them. When he just continues to stare at you, you nod slightly. “I- I don’t know what day it is.” You tell him. “I was at the club on Saturday night.”

“It’s Wednesday. They kept you in a room with your friends yesterday because you wouldn’t submit and they needed to make you suffer. Weaken you. It’s what they do. Fuck with your mind, then your body. Let’s get you something to eat and to drink. You gotta be starving.”

You shouldn’t take anything from him. Not when you know that he could just be toying with you, but you are ravenous. You bite your lip and nod once, looking around the apartment once again. Looking for any clue of what kind of man you had been given to.

He nods, making his way into the kitchen. He knows he’s taking a risk having you here and you could easily try to run or try to kill him but he has to take the risk. The bigger risk would be his cover being blown. He doesn’t entirely know if you’re a plant in his home to give information back to Escobar. He trusts no one and he can’t risk anything but he wouldn’t touch you. He could never cross that line. He opens the fridge and grabs the eggs and bread, grabbing the bottles of water to give you, certain that you’ll want something sealed until you can trust him.

It’s comforting that he’s given you something sealed but you discreetly turn the water bottle upside down and squeeze it to make sure there’s not a needle hole in the plastic. When it holds, you eagerly turn it upright and quickly break the seal. Gulping down the water in desperate gulps as you think it might be the best water you’ve ever tasted because you are so thirsty.

Javier watches you down the water as he puts the pans on the stove to begin cooking. The eggs start to cook and he turns to look at you, to really look at you. You’re gorgeous. No need to deny that to himself but he knows you’re angry and sad. Rightly so. He is for you. That this fuckers are doing this to other women and getting away with it. That’s why he’s doing this. Because of Helena, because of the lives that are destroyed directly or indirectly by Escobar.

You feel better just by drinking the water, but your stomach is still panging with hunger. The smell of the food making you moan quietly, unconsciously stepping towards the kitchen and the man inside it. “Are you- I can have some food?” You ask quietly. “Without doing things?”

Javier wants to growl out his frustration at you being worried that he wants something in exchange for food. The basic need. It’s insulting. He turns to look at you incredulously. “Are you fucking kidding? I- I just told you I didn’t want anything and this is food. You need food. Like I said, I like my women to give me all encompassing consent and I want them to be fully enjoying themselves. A struggle isn’t a turn on for me. It’s disgusting.” He says honestly, his face straight to convey the seriousness of his statement until he turns back to stir the scrambled eggs.

For a moment, you feel guilty. He seems genuinely disgusted by the idea of demanding favors from you, but he had accepted you as some sort of bonus from his boss. You swallow harshly and toy with the letter opener that’s still in your other hand. “Can I have more water? My- my mouth is still dry.”

“Sure. There’s plenty in the fridge. Go get one.” He says, wanting to give you some autonomy in a situation that makes you feel trapped. He watches you hesitate before you walk over to the fridge and he starts to butter the bread and puts it on the pan to toast.

You grab another water and look through the contents of the fridge. There’s not much, obviously he doesn’t eat here often and you wonder why he’s bothering to cook for you. More importantly, why aren’t you trying to get out of the apartment? You’re tired, hungry and he’s holding your passport. That’s why. You move over to a barstool at the counter and plop down, overwhelmed by everything.

He glances over his shoulder at you as he plates up the food, turning off the stove and he carries the plates over to the counter, setting them down in front of you and he turns back to clean up. “Eat.” He orders you with a point before he turns back to clean up.

It’s probably the gruffest nice thing that anyone has ever done for you, and you want to resist, but you’re starving. Falling on the simple breakfast with an enthusiasm that surprises you.

Javi notices how hungry you are and he pushes the other plate towards you. “Have that. You’re hungry. I already ate today.” He says as he washes up the pans, allowing you to have your meal in peace. He wants you to relax a little, realize he isn’t going to hurt you.

You shouldn’t accept it, but you’re too hungry to push it away. Devouring your eggs and toast before pushing the empty plate away and starting on the next. You might make yourself sick, but right now, you don’t even care.

He’s pleased that you are eating. You clearly need it after those bastards starved you. “I’m sure you want a shower too. I have a shirt you can borrow and some boxers - they’re new…I don’t really wear them.” He confesses, “I’ll see about getting you some clothes tomorrow.” He says, knowing he’s gonna need some help from one of the girls to get the right stuff. All he knows about clothes is ripping them off and he doesn’t want to do that to you.

You freeze for a moment, sure that the offer is just a ploy to leave you naked and vulnerable. His stance is unsure when he turns back to you, as if he’s embarrassed by the idea of not having clothes for you and that makes you relax. “I- I won’t-“ you pause, not sure of what you will say. “Thank you.”

Javier nods, “you need clothes and toiletries. Make a list of what you need and your sizes and I’ll get it sorted.” He promises as he scrubs the pan while you finish eating. He’s not sure how he’s going to get you out of the country without Escobar knowing. He will have to think about it later when you’re settled and not trying to stab yourself or him with a letter opener.

You can’t believe this man is willing to buy you clothes. Frowning slightly as you swallow the last bite of eggs. “Why do you work for a man like that?” You ask. “If you aren’t like him? How can you stand what he does to people?”

“It’s complicated.” Javier tells you as he wipes the counter down before he turns back to look at you. “I can’t tell you why. It would put you in even more danger. I know you can’t but all I can ask is that you trust me.” He pleads, needing you to believe that he’s here to be a good man, not like them.

You have no choice but to believe that he isn’t like those other men. It’s not like you can do much if he is, regardless. Your eyes are on his and you nod, realizing that he looks haunted. His dark eyes are trying to tell you something, but you don’t know what. “The American newspapers say the DEA will catch Escobar any day now.” You tell him. “You might want to stop working for him if you want to avoid jail or being killed.”

Javier can’t help but snort, “sure thing, sweetheart. I’ll keep that in mind.” Unable to tell you that he’s DEA. He can’t tell you anything, just in case you are a plant from Escobar. Your reactions tell him you aren’t but he can never be too sure.

You can only pray that you are still alive by the time that Escobar is taken down. You scrape the plate clean and sigh softly. Your stomach doesn’t hurt any more but you’re emotional and honestly exhausted. Yawning catches you off guard and you try to hide it from the man.

Javier notices and bites his lip, watching you for a second. “You wanna shower before you go to bed?” He asks, “I have a guest room. It’s all yours.” He adds when you narrow your eyes at him. He guides you to the bedroom and shows you the shower. “I’ll get you some clean clothes.” He offers, knowing you’ll want some alone time.

You’re alone and it should be the time that you are running to the window to see if you can escape or signal someone, but you’re too tired. Beaten down already and just wanting to shower and sleep. He’s bringing you clothes so you can’t lock the door, but you do lock the door to the bathroom before you strip your clothes off. The letter opener on the edge of the tub.

He grabs some clothes for you, setting them on the bed, and he wonders what’s going through your mind. You must be terrified. He wants to grab his gun and kill every fucker who does this to a woman. Make them pay. He can’t, not yet. He has to take this operation down from the inside out. He rubs his cheek while you shower, grabbing his pack of cigarettes to quickly light one. It’s gonna be hard to keep himself from thinking about how gorgeous you are. You are a beautiful woman and he can never tell you. You’d immediately be on alert and not trust him.

You feel better now that you’ve showered. Clean. You had scrubbed your skin so hard it practically squeaks and you are glad to trade the club dress that was stained and torn for the comfortable t-shirt and boxers that were waiting on the bed when you had peeked out the door to find no one in the room.

Javier snubs out his smoke and picks up the phone, dialing in on a classified number and giving his code name for access. “Peña. How’s it going?” His partner Steve asks.

“Christ, they gave me a girl. To do whatever I want with.” He tells Steve who groans down the phone.

“What are you gonna do with her? Fuck her?” Steve asks and Javi growls, “fuck no. She - she’s American. I have her passport. I need to figure out how to get her on a plane without Escobar knowing what I’ve done.” Javi explains.

Steve hums down the phone, “let me sort that out. You can’t risk having some girl in your apartment. Jesus, never thought I’d say that.” Steve snorts, “leave it with me.” He says before the line goes dead and Javier sighs.

Back in the bedroom, you are too exhausted to come back out, but you don’t completely trust the man who’s apartment you are in. Sliding a chair under the doorknob would be too obvious, so you put the letter opener under your pillow when you collapse onto the bed, ready to sleep. Hopefully, this will all be a bad dream and you will wake up from it soon.

Javier takes a sip of the whiskey, staring at the papers on the kitchen table while you sleep. He’s trying to figure out where the illegal money goes and who the money man is. If he can figure that out, he can track them down and bring them in. Escobar has had the government in his pocket for too long and they need undeniable evidence to make anyone take notice and question the cartel leader.

You sleep for hours. The sun is gone and the room is dark when you wake up. Making you think that maybe you had dreamed it all when you feel the letter opener under the pillow. Screaming when you realize you really are in this nightmare and not waking up safe and at home.

Javier rushes into the bedroom, eyes wide and gun in hand as he wonders if somehow someone from the cartel has realized who he is and has decided to take you both out. When he sees you sitting up, he glances around the room with his gun drawn. “What the fuck?” He shouts, heart pounding.

Eyes wide. You gulp. “S-sorry.” You bite your lip and raise your hands, leaving the letter opener under the pillow. “Bad dream.” You explain quietly. “I-I had a bad dream.”

He lowers the gun, feeling guilty for you having bad dreams. He shakes his head and shoves the gun into the back of his pants. “Jesus. Scared the shit out of me.” He confesses, placing his hand on his racing heart. “You want something to drink?” He asks, knowing you might not but he needs something to take the edge off.

You tilt your head, confused at the way this man just offers you casual hospitality like you aren’t his property. Nodding slowly, you have to admit that it would be good to relax a bit. “I- thank you.” You mumble. “For not shooting me.”

Javier snorts, “yeah well, I don’t usually hesitate before shooting.” He confesses, “but I wouldn’t shoot you.” He promises as he walks into the living room and over to the bar cart. “I have whiskey and…vodka.” He says, knowing that whiskey is the only thing he drinks so he has vodka for any of his female company that comes over to give him intel.

“I drink what you drink.” You decide, figuring it would be safer to have the same thing he is. He was less likely to drug your drink that way. You scramble after him, wearing the clothes he had brought you and in your haste, you had forgotten the letter opener.

Javier nods, grabbing two glasses and he pours out a heavy measure of whiskey into each glass. He knows you need it and he definitely fucking does. He hands you the glass after letting you watch him pour and he takes a sip to assure you it’s safe. “I’m sorry you’re here. In this shit situation with me.”

“I don’t understand.” You take a sip of your whiskey after he does. “You don’t act like Escobar, joking about what he would do with me if he wasn’t giving me to you. Yet, you had done something vile enough to rate getting a real live sex toy.” You snort. “A fresh cunt as Pablo said.”

Javier turns to look you in the eye, “don’t be mistaken. I’m not a good man. I’ve done a lot of shit. Bad shit. But that- touching a woman without her consent? That is too fucking far. I’ll kill bad men but I won’t kill women or children. I need to prove myself to Escobar but not by violating an innocent woman. I meant what I said…I like my women willing and consensual.”

You contemplate what he says, watching him closely and realize that he really is handsome. His chiseled jaw compliments his sharp nose and is softened by the mustache that is straight from the 70’s. “You must have been a Bandit fan.” You tell him suddenly, thinking about the American movie.

Javier chuckles, “I did love watching Burt Reynolds but I tried the 80s and didn’t like the clothes of the music. Didn’t fit me so I turned back to my old closet and I’ve never looked back since.” He smirks, “most women say it suits me.” He shrugs and takes another sip of his drink.

It does suit him and he knows it. You settle in the chair opposite him a little more. “So you aren’t going to hurt me, but you can’t let me go? Right?” You bite your lip. “Tell me, what are you going to do with me?”

Javier sighs, setting his glass down. “You’re gonna stay here until I can figure out how to get you home.” He reveals, “it’s too dangerous to let you go. They’ll find out I let you go and then it’s my ass on the line. Give me time to figure it out and then I’ll get you home.”

“Why?” You frown, looking down into the last drops of your whiskey and then back up at him. “You don’t know me, I’m nothing to you.” It’s harsh, but it’s also reality. He shouldn’t care about you at all but he’s going to risk himself for you?

“You represent the many women who have been abused or killed at the hands of Pablo Escobar and his sicarios. You won’t be one of the many who have suffered at their hands. You’ll go home and tell the world about this tragedy and tell them that Pablo Escobar needs to be taken down.” He says, measuring your reaction.

You stare at him in shock for a moment, unable to believe that he just said that about his boss. Biting your lip, your eyes water emotionally and you nod. “I’ll scream it every chance I get if I survive this.” You know there’s a good chance you won’t live. “He’s- he’s a monster. One who pretends to be noble.” You snort and shake your head. “I’m so fucking stupid. My friends and I- we joked about meeting Escobar on this trip. Buying some coke from him. I’ve never fucking done coke, but I was so cute, thinking that I could meet a drug kingpin.” You shudder and look back down at your drink. “Wish I had fucking missed my flight. Never come here.”

Javier reaches out to touch your hand before he pulls it back. “Don’t worry. I’ll get you out of here. You’ll be safe with me. You shouldn’t have come to Colombia. You should’ve stayed at home. You and your friends shouldn’t have come but you’ll get home.” He promises, “I’ll get you home.”

“I’m sorry.” You whimper quietly. “This is all my fault. It was my idea to come.” You confess. “My friends- they-“ you shake your head, unable to even voice the horrible things that you imagine they are going through. “It’s my fault.”

Javier doesn’t try to placate you with words when you know you’ve fucked up. He doesn’t want to upset you even more but he doesn’t comfort you. “Like I said, you will go home. I’ll make sure of it.”

“I’ll believe you.” You snort, tossing back the rest of the whiskey and holding out the glass for another. “If I don’t, I’ll drive myself crazy.”

Javier nods in understanding as he grabs the glass and refills it. “You can’t leave here, you understand? If you leave, you die. I can’t protect you outside of this apartment.” He says as he hands you back the glass.

“I won’t leave.” You promise, shaking your head. “If you are actually not going to hurt me and keep me safe, I will do whatever you want me to. I just want to go home.”

“I’ll get you home.” Javi promises, his dark eyes meeting yours as he swears he will do whatever it takes to get you home. “Just do what I tell you and you’ll get home.” He swears, downing the rest of his drink.

****

It’s been a few days that you’ve been in his apartment and Javier has left to check in with the sicarios, having to lie and tell them the disgusting things they’d expect him to do to you. They laugh and he pretends to go along with it, making out like he’s done those vile things to you. When he returns to his apartment, he unlocks the door to find you walking around in the fucking shorts he bought you from the list you gave him. He feels disgusting for finding you attractive but you are. You’re gorgeous and he finds himself thinking about you but he would never cross a line, you trust him and he wouldn’t break that trust.

You turn towards the door and watch him walk in, smiling at the sight of him. “Hey.” You greet him and hurry over the bar cart. You have learned that he loves to have whiskey, especially when he’s dealing with the Escobar or his cronies. Pouring him a drink, you hold it out to him. “I started dinner. It should be done soon.”

“That smells good.” He tells you, groaning at the scent wafting from the kitchen. You’ve taken to cooking dinner and for a man who usually survives on booze and cigarettes, it’s a welcome change in his apartment. “What’s cooking?” He asks as he takes the drink from your hand. God, you’re fucking beautiful and can cook. Any man’s dream but he can’t kiss you. Even if he wants to. It’s hard for him to distance himself when he’s so used to physical contact. He hasn’t brought back any of his contacts to the apartment.

“You had some meat in the freezer so it’s like a birria, but I didn’t have tomatoes.” You shrug slightly as he lifts the lid on the pot. “Hopefully it’s good. Although maybe I need to give you a shopping list.”

“Smells fucking delicious.” He groans, “you’re a good cook.” He says and turns back after setting the lid back on the pot. “You’re - you’re too good to me considering the situation.” He murmurs, sliding his eyes across the room guiltily, knowing that his contacts at the embassy are working on how to get you out of the country without anyone knowing.

“You could be a lot worse to me.” You acknowledge. “You could have given me back. I’m grateful that you have kept your word and kept me safe.”

Javier nods, reaching out to gently touch your upper arm. “I am working on getting you out. It’s not gonna be easy but I’m working on it.” He tells you, lowering his hand when he reminds himself that you probably don’t fully trust him even if he’s given you no reason to doubt him.

“I- I appreciate it.” You murmur quietly, looking down at the rice you are cooking. It’s been harder to ignore how attractive he is since you’ve settled in and realized that you are safe. “I really do. So while I can, I’m going to take care of you.”

Javier is surprised and he shakes his head, a little pleased that you feel comfortable with him. “You don’t have to but I appreciate it.” He tells you softly, “now…you want something to drink and then I’ll show you the new clothes I got you.” He says, knowing you need more clothes, he had gotten the girls who work for Escobar to help him get some things.

“You bought me more clothes?” Your eyes widen. “All I do is stay in your apartment. What you had gotten for me was fine.” You promise. You aren’t ungrateful, but he’s not going to take you anywhere, so as long as you’re covered, you’re fine. In fact, you have grown comfortable walking around his apartment in shorts and one of his t-shirts.

“I just wanted you to have some choices.” He shrugs, a little flustered. He must admit that he loves seeing you in his shirts but he can’t admit that to you. You’d think he’s a creep. “I spoke to someone today who is working on getting you a fake passport to get you into the airport and on the plane so Escobar isn’t flagged that you’re leaving.”

“Do you think that could actually happen?” Your eyes are wide and hopeful. “That’s amazing!” You bite your lip so you don’t cry, noticing that tears make him uncomfortable.

“I’m working on it, beautiful.” He promises, “I’m not that bad to live with, I hope, that you want to go because of me.” He teases softly and he winks at you. You have slotted into his life seamlessly and he isn’t sure how to feel about it.

You laugh and bite your lip again, this time to keep from saying that he is great. For a man who obviously has done horrible things, he’s actually pretty fantastic. He is kind, respectable, and intelligent. You’ve spent hours reading the books in his apartment. “No, not because of you. I think that you might be my guardian angel.”

Javier sighs and shakes his head, “I wouldn’t say that. I- I’ve done bad things in my life. I’m not a good man but like I said, I would never hurt a woman. My mama would slap me across the head if she were alive.” He says, ducking his head and he bites his lip, “when’s dinner gonna be ready? I’ll set the table.”

You shake your head and push him away from the stove playfully. “Go shower.” You insist. “You stink.” He doesn’t, but you want to take care of him. He should relax and get clean. “Shoo.”

He chuckles and nods, making his way out of the kitchen to shower and clean up. He never imagined he’d enjoy this kind of life. The one where he comes home to a home cooked meal and a woman that makes his heart flutter - not that he’d ever tell you that. He can’t get involved with you. You don’t actually know him or who he is. He needs to get you home and safe and he needs to take down Escobar.

Setting the table is so domestic. Like all of this. The table setting is for two, since he insists you eat as well and it’s shameful but you imagine he’s your boyfriend that you are cooking for. That you are together and he will kiss you before you eat. The rice is done and you smirk when you hear the shower start up, knowing that he will feel better after getting clean.

Javier showers and he can’t help his cock hardening at the thought of you walking around in his shirt wearing those short shorts. Fuck, he shouldn’t do this. He shouldn’t touch himself at the thought of you. He wants it. It’s hard not to when you look at him with those eyes. “Shit.” He hisses in English, reaching down to grip his hard cock, knowing this won’t go away until he deals with it. He slowly pumps, imagining you spread out on his kitchen table instead of your delicious food.

You fix yourself a drink too, aware that he doesn’t mind and sip it while you chop the few vegetables he had to make a salad. The man needs some proper food. And not from a restaurant like he had been doing. It feels good to do this, and you can see he appreciates it. Loving how he groans when he eats, you touched yourself last night imagining those groans were his sex noises.

He pants as he jerks himself off, the hot water running down his back as he imagined those little whimpers you make sometimes are from his mouth on your pussy. He wants to hear how you moan, see how you cum. You are as intoxicating as the whiskey you serve him and fuck if he doesn't want to drown in you.

The timer on the stove goes off and you smirk when you open the lid again. It’s smelling delicious and will be perfect the rice and the tortillas. His shower is taking longer than normal, so you don’t dish it up just yet, wanting it to be steaming hot when he sits down to eat

He groans when he cums, painting the shower tiles with his seed as he clenches his eyes shut and thinks about you. How fucking perfect you are. He pants as he rests his forehead on the cool tile as he slowly works his cock until he lets go and washes off the wall. He will do whatever it takes to get you home. You deserve to be safe and with your family. After turning off the shower and drying off, he dresses and makes his way back into the kitchen. "Smell better?" He asks teasingly.

You grin and lean in to sniff him when there’s the sound of gunfire, seemingly right outside the window. “Get down!” He screams in perfect English as he grabs your arm and pushes you down, under the table and sprints across the room to his gun.

His heart pounds as he grabs his gun and presses against the wall beside the window. The gun shots become more distant and he chances a peek out the window. Seeing a young kid running away. It’s something that happens with the young teenagers fighting in their own gangs. He pants as he lowers his gun, tense but glad to know you’re not in danger. You’re under the table so he sets the gun on the side and kneels down to see you. “You okay, sweetheart?” He asks you, again in perfect English, forgetting to keep up speaking in his mother tongue around you.

English. His English is perfect, not even a hint of an accent. He's an American. Your eyes widen in horror and you jerk back when he reaches for you. “You’re an American!” You screech, pushing out from under the table and moving to the other side, keeping the table between you. “You motherfucker, you’ve been lying to me! What is this? Some kind of trick? You’re planning on trafficking me?”

Javier curses softly under his breath at his fuck up. “No! No! I- shit. I can’t tell you. I can’t but you have to trust me. I’m American and I’m- I’m one of the good guys.” He winces at how bad that sounds but it’s true. “You gotta just trust me, sweetheart. I’m gonna get you home.”

“Stay back.” You shake your head and your heart drops. “I- I don’t believe you. I’ve been here for days and you’ve just pretended that you aren’t American! How can I trust anything you say?”

“You have to.” He says harshly, “I’m the only way you’re going to get out of this country. I’m your only hope. So you better trust me or you will be stuck here forever.” He half threatens, needing you to understand the gravity of the situation.

Your eyes widen and you swallow harshly. “You’re an asshole.” You decide, not hungry anymore and you turn around and march towards the second bedroom he had given you to use.

Javier sighs, feeling all the progress goes down the drain as you slam the door and he leans against the counter, looking down at the food you cooked. He washes up and puts the food in the fridge, sighing your name as he wonders what to do now. He needs you to trust him for this to work. He decides to call Steve and see how things are going with the passport situation.

You don’t come out of the bedroom until you hear him leave the apartment again. Sighing as you come out to find that he had cleaned up the kitchen and put everything away. The clothes he had bought are neatly stacked on the counter.

Javier sits in the bar, smoking his cigarette, and the woman walks past. His eyes trail along her figure but he finds the usual fire he feels absent. Usually he’d be chasing her but now, all he can think about is you. He met with Steve in an abandoned parking lot, discussing the details and timeline on the passport for you. Steve narrowed his eyes at him, asking if he liked you, to which Javi vehemently shook his head. Now, he’s giving you space and he knows he has to go home soon to check on you.

Biting your lip, you look at the closed door that is leading to his bedroom. You haven’t been in there before, but now you want to see what this man is like. Walking over to it, you push the door opened and step inside.

Javier downs the rest of his drink and the woman stands at the bar making eyes at him. He smirks at her and winks but walks straight past her to head home. He hasn’t slept with anyone since you arrived because he didn’t want anyone to see you and he has to keep up appearances that you’re his sex toy. It’s been a while for a man who uses sex to process his emotions. He heads out the door and makes his way home, eager to see you and make amends.

You find his room to be really tidy for a man. His bed is neatly made and his dirty clothes are in a basket. All in all, the room is devoid of anything personal. Which makes you wonder even more about him. About why he is working with Escobar.

Javier comes down the hall of the building and quickly unlocks the door. You clearly don’t hear him because he finds you in his room, the door open, and he can’t help but confront you. “What are you doing in my room?”

“Trying to find out who you are.” You don’t even try to lie, you don’t need to. Closing the beside drawer, you stand up straight. “What I’ve found, is that you are either the most unsentimental man on the planet, or you are here - working for Escobar - for a reason.

He appreciates you not lying to him and he knows he hasn’t told you anything. Maybe now is the time to tell you. “Come have a drink with me and I’ll tell you who I am.” He says, jerking his chin towards the door and he makes his way out into the living room and over to the bar cart.

He’s not yelling at you, or demanding you get out of his room and it puts you at ease more than anything else. Following him quietly and sitting down on the couch while he pours you both drinks.

Javier hands you the drink before he comes over to sit next to you on the sofa. He’s torn on telling you but he also thinks you deserve to know the truth now. He trusts you. He knows you aren’t working for Escobar otherwise his door would’ve been pushed down by now and a bullet in his chest. “I, uh, I don’t work for Escobar. Well, I do but…I’m actually a DEA agent and I am undercover working to take down Escobar and his cartel.” He reveals, deciding to cut straight to the truth.

Your eyes widen and your jaw drops open. What you had expected, you don’t know, but it wasn’t that he was a DEA agent. “I- are you for real?” You demand. “A fucking DEA agent? You must have been laughing at me when I said that the agency was close to catching Escobar?”

Javier shakes his head, “I wish we were closer. I wasn’t - I wasn’t original assigned to do this but I have to take him down. That’s why- it’s why I had to pretend that I was gonna abuse you. That’s what they expect of me and if I didn’t do that, I would’ve been found out.” He says with a sigh, taking a sip of his drink.

You stare down at your drink and sigh. “So the DEA knows Escobar is kidnapping women and trafficking them?” You ask quietly. “Good. Motherfucker needs to pay for what he did to me, to my friends.”

Javier nods, “he’s gonna pay. For all of it. He’s gonna be taken down and I’m gonna do whatever it takes to make sure he pays for what he’s done.” Javier promises, “I’m just - I’m sorry you’ve gotten tangled up in this. That you’re stuck here with me.” He finishes with a murmur.

“Out of everyone Escobar could have given me to, I’m glad it’s you.” You admit quietly. “I could have been really screwed.” You snort at your pun. “Literally.” It’s better to joke about it now, to break the tension. Even if there’s nothing funny about what could have happened. “So now you don’t have to pretend with me anymore.”

Javier nods, "I am glad I don't have to pretend anymore, sweetheart. I - my pa would kill me for lying to a beautiful woman." He chuckles softly, looking down at his glass, sloshing the liquid.

Your brow raises at the words he uses. “You think I’m beautiful?” You ask in surprise. “I- I didn’t think that you- you never- I-“ you break off and just shrug.

He sighs and shakes his head, "I didn't want you to think that I wanted to save you because I wanted you to - you know. That was what I saved you from. You're gorgeous and I - I gotta tell you, sweetheart, I ain't got the best reputation around town. I, uh, a lot of sicarios spend their time in the brothels and...so do I."

“Do you beat the women?” You ask seriously. “Abuse them? You once told me that you like your women willing and eager to fall into bed with you. Is that true?”

He shakes his head immediately, "no. Shit. No. I don't - I pay them well. They give me intel and I, uh, I make sure they enjoy the time they spend with me. I haven't been since you got here." He confesses, biting his lip.

“Because of me….” You bite your lip and you can’t help how that makes you feel. Almost proud that he’s not been with anyone else. “Is that because you don’t want them to know you aren’t touching me?”

“Partly. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. I didn't want to make you feel awkward and I didn't want to leave you alone for too long. And...and because none of them interest me since you've arrived."He admits, his dark eyes flicking up to yours as he worries about your reaction.

“Do I interest you?” You ask softly, afraid that you’re reading too much into this and wait for him to tell you no. The nod is so subtle, you almost miss it, but it’s there. He wants you. You look down at your drink and set it down on the coffee table. “I’m going to go into your bedroom.” You announce as you stand up, “come in two minutes from now.”

His eyes widen slightly and he swallows down the rest of his whiskey when you disappear into his bedroom. He rubs his hands on his jeans, Adam's apple bobbing with nerves. He is used to paying a woman for sex. You are different. You want him, actually want him, and he holds your life in his hands. He wants to keep you safe from everything...including him. Yet he can't deny what he wants. He wants you. Standing up, he waits another thirty seconds before he makes his way into his bedroom.

Inside his bedroom, you strip down to nothing. Aware that he could reject you or end up being a far different lover than what you’ve imagined but you have to take the risk. You want to feel alive for the first time since this entire ordeal started and ironically, you’ll achieve that by fucking the man you had been given to. Except you are in charge of your body, and you want him to touch you. You kneel down on the bed and look at the door when it opens.

Javier inhales deeply when he sees you naked and kneeling on his bed. Christ, you're gorgeous. He slowly walks over to the bed, his cock twitching in his jeans, and he reaches out to gently grip your chin, making you look at him. "Tell me what you want, hermosa." He orders softly, wanting to hear you say it before he goes any further.

It’s so strange to hear his voice in English after hearing it for days in Spanish. You bite your lip and turn your head to kiss his palm. “I’ve imagined you touching me. Making me cum.” You admit when you nuzzle back into his hand. “I want you to tell me your real first name so I can cry that out when I cum.”

He nods, pleased that you want him to make you cum. It’s what he’s imagined since you arrived. “Javier. My name is Javier but you can call me Javi.” He tells you, caressing your cheek until his hand slides down to your neck. He squeezes it gently and slides it lower until he’s cupping your breast. “Eres hermosa.” He murmurs, “I’ve thought about you in my bed.” He confesses, “thought about making you cry out my real name.” He squeezes your breast before he pinches your nipple.

You gasp out in pleasure at the sudden, brief burst of painful bliss. It’s just the right amount of roughness that you would enjoy anytime but especially right now. “J-Javi.” You whimper, already struggling to keep your eyes open so you can watch him touch you. “Do what you imagined to me.” You beg softly

He groans softly, letting go of your breast to cup your cheek again and he surges forward to press his lips to yours. Pushing you back on the bed as he shifts to hover over you. Managing to kick his shoes off as he straddles your naked body, his tongue sliding into your mouth.

There’s something intoxicating about his clothed body grinding against yours. Enjoying the rough feel of his jeans against your thighs and core when he presses a leg between yours. His shirt is hanging down and you capture it, starting to unbutton it to feel his hot skin underneath your fingers as you kiss.

He’s already drunk on you. Groaning into your mouth as you fumble to undo his shirt and his hand slides down to squeeze your tit again. Unable to stop himself, he pulls away from your mouth, kisses down your neck, and takes your nipple into his mouth.

"Ohhhh fuck." you toss your head back against the pillows and whine at the sensation of his hot mouth against your nipple. HIs tongue running over it again and his teeth scraping over the sensitive skin. "That's- so good." you pant out, running your fingers through his hair and tugging on it lightly.

He groans into your skin, switching over to your other breast, and his tongue soothes the flesh after he bites down. Your moans and gasps have him throbbing in his pants and he shifts to continue kissing down your body, his tongue dipping into your belly button before he shifts to spread your thighs with his shoulders. Breathing you in, he gets a good look at your dripping wet cunt.

"Are you- you do that?" You ask breathlessly, lifting your head and looking down at him in shock. It was rare to find a man willing to even get close to a cunt with his face, but he seems almost eager. "You don't have to- I know that I'm wet enough."

Javier looks up at your confused expression and he snorts, “baby. I love pussy. I love burying my face in a pussy. I wanna bury my face in this pussy.” He says and surges forward to slide his tongue through your folds, groaning as your tangy taste hits his taste buds.

You whine, toes curling up and digging into the sheets underneath you. "Oh fuck!" you cry out, unable to believe that this man has his tongue sliding through your folds with an eagerness that would have you believing the women he paid were actually paying him. "Oh fuck, Javi."

He grins against your wet flesh, his fingers grabbing your thighs to push them back so he can push his tongue deep inside of you. The way you cry out has him grinding into the mattress and he’s glad he has his jeans on still.

Javi doesn’t just lick you to show that he will eat pussy, he licks you like it’s his only purpose. Thoroughly taking you apart one sharp flick of his tongue at a time, with his nose pressed against your mound and his hot breath puffing against your cunt.

Javier groans, loving your breathlessly whimpers and cries of his name, cries of nothing as you react to his tongue. He’s determined to hear you cum, to fall apart on his tongue. He wants to hear your pleasure. He closes his eyes for a second until you tug on his hair and he hisses into your pussy, dark eyes opening to meet yours.

“You like that?” You get your answer when you tug on his hair again and he groans into your folds again. Making you smirk slightly as you loosen your grip. “Make me cum.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. His lips wrap around your clit, sucking hard, and he needs you to fall apart beneath his tongue. His fingers press into your thighs as he spreads you further open for him.

Your thighs fall open for him. Willing to let him get as deep as he wishes if he continues to touch you like this. One hand buries itself back into his longer hair and the other grips the sheets tight. “Javi- oh- oh Jaaaaaavvviiiii!” You squeal when the next suck makes you fall over the edge and you shake in pleasure.

He works you through it, loving the way your thighs shake and you squeal his name. It almost makes him cum. He laps at your essence, loving the tangy taste as he eagerly drinks up every drop while he works you through your pleasure until you’re pushing his head away when it becomes too much for you.

“Oh fuck.” Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath but you want him to kiss you. Tugging gently on his hair and his shoulder, you urge him to crawl up your body. “Kiss me, fuck, I need you to kiss me.”

He can’t deny you anything. He crawls up your body, groaning your name as he wastes no time pressing his lips to yours. His tongue pushes into your mouth as he settles between your thighs again, grinding into you.

Your fingers slide down to the belt around his waist. Needing to strip him down and feel him. Unbuckling the clasp and flicking open the button. “Shit…” you hiss, reaching down and discovering he doesn’t wear underwear.

Javier grunts when you reach in to pull his cock out. He’s hard for you, aching really after jerking off so many times in the shower to thoughts of you. “Fuck baby. You feel too damn good. You want me to fuck you?” He asks gruffly, his cock twitching in your tight grip.

“Fuck, Javi, you- yessssss.” You moan. Your cunt clenches every time he twitches and he’s thick enough that you will feel him after you’re done. “I want you to fuck me. Take your pants off and slide inside me.”

He nods, shifting off of the bed to push his pants down. He kicks them aside and his cock bounces as he walks over to the nightstand to get a condom out. He wants to make sure you’re protected, even from him. He rips it open and rolls it down his cock, shifting to kneel on the bed. “You sure you want me inside if you?” He asks, wanting to make sure you fully consent.

You spread your legs wider, nodding. “Fuck yes.” You moan. “Fuck me. Please fuck me.” You aren’t above begging at this point. You’ve cum, but you really want to see what he looks like when he falls apart.

He nods, shuffling closer between your thighs and he grips his cock, swiping it through your folds. He groans at the heat of you as he notches himself at your entrance and his eyes meet yours as he pushes inside of you. Slow, not wanting to hurt you. He shifts to press his weight onto his forearms as he hovers over you.

Your mouth drops open as he slowly fills you. Enjoying the slight pinch and the fullness he gives you. “Oh fuck, Javi.” You moan, eyes fluttering close and you slide your hand up his shoulder to pull him down for a kiss. “Move.”

He doesn’t disobey you. He kisses you as he starts to move, slowly pulling out of you and he pulls back to watch your face as he pushes back into you. “Want you to enjoy this. Every second. You tell me what you need.” He demands, rocking inside of you, a slow pace at first to let you get used to him.

“Want to feel you for days.” You whimper, wrapping your legs around him. “Fuck me hard. Like you would one of the other women you fuck.”

He shakes his head, “you’re not like the other women. You deserve more. You are more.” He says softly, his dark eyes sincere as he looks at you with something close to love but it’s not. Not yet. He starts to move again, rocking into you.

You don’t argue, you can’t when he’s moving inside you. Sensual with just a bit of roughness, it’s perfect. Making you moan every time his hips hit yours.

He loves hearing you moan. He leans down to kiss along your neck, his hips grinding against yours. He’s not as rough as he could be, not wanting to be the man the other sicarios thought he’d be with you. He wants to be soft and sensual. “Hermosa.” He murmurs against your neck, “you’re so fucking beautiful.”

There is a tenderness to his kisses on your skin that makes your eyes water. This man is truly better than anything you could have ever hoped for. Your arms tighten around him and your cunt squeezes him tight. “So handsome. I can’t believe that those men think you are the same as them. You aren’t.”

He doesn’t respond, knowing he’s done bad things to take down bad men, but now isn’t the time to explain that. He continues kissing along your skin, down your chest until he’s taking your nipple into his mouth. His hips move to push deep inside of you, switching the angle slightly as he tries to find that spot inside of you.

“Oh fuck- there!” You gasp out when he hits deep inside you and make your eyes fly open in pleasure. His cock hits against it again and you moan. Your fingernails dig into his skin and you scratch lightly, not wanting to draw blood.

With a groan, he focuses on that spot and he loves the way your nails dig into his back. His cock twitches inside of you and he shifts his weight onto one arm so he can snake his hand between you. He rubs your clit with his thumb, eyes on you to see what you like.

“Oh fuck.” Your mouth drops open in a moan before you close your eyes and your body arches up to his touch. “So good, fuck, you’re so good.” You whine. “We- we should have been doing this from the beginning.”

Javier groans in agreement, “yes but I didn’t want - I wanted you to trust me.” He says, kissing your sternum, “only want you to trust me.” He murmurs, “and now I want you to cum for me.” He rubs your clit a little faster, needing to feel and hear you cum.

“Oh yes, yesssss.” You whimper, feeling your entire body start to tense for your coming orgasm. Knowing that it’s only going to be a few seconds before you come apart underneath him and your breath catches in your throat.

Javier groans as you clamp down on his cock, soaking him and he knows he’s already addicted to you. He fucking loves it. He loves making you feel this way. He rocks you through it until you relax beneath him then he pulls out. “Hands and knees, baby.” He orders, wanting to make you cum again.

You can't believe that he's not already cum. Most guys don't last longer than a few minutes and you've already cum. The fact that he's still going has you moaning even as he's guiding you onto your stomach and pulling you up to your knees. Looking over your shoulder, you grin. "Smack my ass." You order, wiggling it at him. "I did go through your room."

Javier chuckles, “you’re a naughty girl.” He rubs your ass cheek before his palm comes down on it, smacking you hard. You moan and his cock twitches. He grips his cock, positioning himself at your entrance when you lean forward to wiggle your ass. He’s not gentle this time when he pushes into you with a groan.

"Oh fuck!" You choke out when your entire body lurches forward at the thrust of his cock. Punching deep and filling you completely with one harsh thrust. "More." You moan as soon as you can draw another breath. "Fuck me, Javi."

He doesn’t deny you. Grabbing your hips, his nostrils flaring as he starts to fuck you hard. His fingers digging into your skin as he grinds him cock deep inside of you. “Feel good?” He asks, wanting to make sure you’re enjoying this.

"Godddddd yes." You moan when he pushes deep again. "So good." Your head drops down to hang between your shoulder blades and you move down to your elbows. Letting him get even deeper with ever thrust of his hips.

He caresses your back as you shift forward before he smacks your ass with both hands, squeezing the cheeks. His thumb pushes between your cheeks to press against the puckered hole, groaning at the way it flutters with each push inside of you. Christ, he’s fucking drunk on you. The way you feel around him.

"Oh my god." Your eyes flutter wide and then you relax into the sensation of him pushing against that other hole easily. If anyone would breach you there, you would let it be him. "Fuck, Javi, whatever you want, please, just don't stop."

Hearing you say that has him nearly cumming but he holds back, slowly down a little. He likes that you trust him so much. He bends over, letting his spit dribble down between your cheeks so he can press his thumb into your hips while his cock continues moving inside of you.

You whimper when his pace changes, slowing down and you feel. every throbbing vein in his cock scrubbing against your walls. "Oh fuck." You whine, trying to push your hips back, but he as you pinned with his body. "So good."

He loves hearing you moan like this. “You’re doing so well, hermosa. Want you to cum for me again. Want you to soak my cock again.” He murmurs, kissing your shoulder as he leans over you. He’s slow but he wants you to feel all of him.

You grunt as he presses deeper. Feeling like he's pushed up into your throat at this angle. You choke out a moan and clench down around him. "I- just like that." You beg, loving how he's pushing deep.

He keeps the same pace and thrust, wanting to hear and feel you fall apart again. He groans softly when your walls clench around you he him as he pushes his thumb into your ass. “That’s it, baby girl. You gonna be good and cum for me?” He asks, voice raspy and deep with his own pleasure.

It shouldn’t affect you that bad. The way his voice dips down and his words twist in your stomach. “Yes.” You whine, tanging your fingers into the sheets. “Fuck, yes, I’m your good girl. I’m gonna cum.”

“Jesus.” He hisses at your words, his entire body vibrating with desire for you, and he pants as you grind back against him. “That’s it, hermosa. Thats it baby. Cum for me. Cum for me.” He pleads roughly and finally, you cry out. Your body shaking as you clamp down on his cock again and he thrusts into you, trying desperately to hold on but he pulls his thumb out and drags you up against his chest. His grunts in your ear as he picks up the pace, thrusting into you like a jackhammer as he gets closer to his own orgasm.

“Ja-Ja-Javiiiiiiiiiiii!” You squeal as he ramps up the pace, fucking into you roughly and you love it. Taking the harsh thrusts and knowing that the ache in your cunt will last beyond cleaning up. “Cum- cum in me.” You beg, even though you know he’s got a condom on. You still want to feel him fall over the edge. “Cum for me.”

He grunts, jaw clenched as his arm wraps around you and he squeezes your tit in his other hand. “Shit. Shit.” He pants as he thrusts fast and hard until he comes to a stop. A strangled groan escaping his lips as he pulses and fills the condom deep inside of you. His teeth sinking into your shoulder as he squeezes you close to his sweaty body.

The sharpness of his teeth make you clench around him again, milking his cock even more as you feel him ride out his high. “That’s it, baby.” You coo softly, turning your head and pressing your lips to his cheek.

He seeks out your lips, pressing his to yours and he slides his tongue into your mouth. His hands caressing your stomach down to your hips as you both take a second to enjoy your orgasms. He pecks your lips and lets go of you to reach down and grip the base of the condom before he slowly pulls out of you.

When he pulls out of you, your body melts into the bed. Slumping down and you huff out a chuckle as you try to catch your breath. “Holy shit.”

He quickly ties off the condom and leans down to kiss along your back as you recover. “Damn right.” He chuckles softly and shuffles off of the bed. He grabs his jeans and pulls them on before he walks into the bathroom to grab a wet rag to clean you up and then he tosses that onto the side when he settles down on the bed, leaning against the mattress. He reaches into the nightstand to grab his smokes and he wastes no time in lighting one.

You turn to look at him, stealing the cigarette and taking a drag. “Are you ready to go back to your real life?” You ask him seriously. You know that if he’s undercover, he has to be under a lot of pressure.

Javier sighs as he exhales the smoke. “I don’t even know what my real life is. All I know is that I need to take down Escobar. Nothing else matters except that. And I gotta get you home.” He adds, raising his eyebrows at you before he takes the cigarette back to take another drag.

“That’s comforting.” You snort, swinging your leg over his thighs and straddling him. “You will take him down.” You predict softly. “and until I go home, I’ll make sure this apartment is very….relaxing for you.” You promise with a grin, leaning down and kisses him right after he inhales the smoke.

He smirks and playfully nips your chin, shifting to snub out his smoke in the ashtray on the nightstand. “Yeah? Gonna make sure I have a nice warm pussy for when I’m coming home all cold and lonely?” He asks, his hands coming up to caress your waist.

“You fuck me like that?” You huff, grinding down on him. “You’re damned right. Freshly shaved and dripping for you.”

Javier clicks his tongue, “not bothered about the shaving. I’m a man of the 70s, baby. I ain’t afraid to get down and dirty.” He smirks and slides his hands lower to squeeze your ass. “You enjoy it?” He asks, licking his lower lip as he leans back to look at you, wanting an honest answer. He hasn’t paid you to moan for him. He wants to make sure you enjoyed it.

"Loved it." You admit easily, smirking down at him and cradling his face so you can kiss him again. It's fucking astonishing to find a man who is as good as he is under these circumstances. You should be terrified of him touching you, but you can't wait until he is wrecking you again. "Want to do it again. When you can."

Javier chuckles softly, caressing your skin. “I’m not eighteen anymore, baby. Gimme a while. Doesn’t mean I can’t get you off in the meantime.” He smirks and slides his hand lower until he’s cupping your pussy. You whimper and he rubs your clit, “God, you’re still so wet.” He murmurs, shifting to push two fingers inside of you.

“Oh fuck.” You whine, rocking onto his hand shamelessly. “You- you’re so fucking good at this.” You whimper, eyes sliding shut in pleasure. He’s not selfish and that makes you even wetter for him.

He smirks, loving the praise, and he curls his fingers deeper before pressing his thumb to your clit. “Take what you need baby. Ride my fingers.” He orders, loving the way your chest heaves and your eyes flutter shut.

This man is so sexy. You don’t know why he’s not been snatched up, because he’s also a good man despite what he says. You moan his name quietly and roll your hips down onto his hand eagerly. Wanting to obey him.

He watches you take what you want from him. Your hips grinding down on his digits and he curls them as you rock down. “That’s it baby. Take what you need. Wanna watch you cum again for me.” He murmurs, his dark eyes flicking between you and your pussy, his digits glistening when you lift up. “You’re so wet.” He murmurs again, a tinge of awe in his voice.

“You’re so sexy.” You hum, ducking your head down and nipping his jaw as you continue to rock in his hand. “Sexy, chivalrous, fuck, you turn me on with how fucking good to me you’ve been. And you’re an agent? Even sexier.”

His heart pounds at your compliments and he surges forward to press his lips to yours. His tongue slides against yours as you grind down onto his fingers and his thumb presses harder against your clit. “You’re fucking gorgeous.” He murmurs against your lips, “gonna keep you safe.” He vows, “gonna make sure no one touches you except me.”

You whimper into his mouth when his tongue slides against yours once more. You believe him. If he says you will be safe, then he will protect you. Your arms wrap around his neck and you pour yourself into the kiss, wanting to make this good for him too and he seems to really like kissing.

His groan is muffled by your tongue and he isn't in a rush to make you cum. His cock is interested but he's still not fully hard. His free hand finds your breast, squeezing it and pinching the nipple as you eagerly kiss him.

Shuddering, you press yourself into his hand harder, needing more. He's completely focused on you and you don’t think anyone has ever done that for you. You nibble on his lip when you pull back slightly and moan again when he curls his fingers up.

"That's it, hermosa. Can feel how close you are. Need you to fall apart for me. Can you do that? Can you cum?" He asks, murmuring against your chin as he pushes his fingers deep, slow, hard thrusts into your weeping cunt.

“Yes.” Your gasp of pleasure is one that is purely anticipatory. Knowing that you are about to cum again, your body tensing as you move closer. “Gonna cum for you.”

"That's it. That's it." He murmurs as seconds later, you clamp down on his fingers. "Good girl. Good fucking girl." He groans, loving the way you practically soak his hand and his jeans as you shake against him.

You collapse against his chest and pant as you try to catch your breath. Your body is still quaking and his fingers are still moving, although slower than they were before. Turning your head, you kiss along his neck lazily.

He withdraws his fingers after a few moments, his wet fingers squeezing your ass as he rocks you on his hardening cock while you kiss along his neck. "Fuck baby. Want me to fuck you again? Want you to ride me." He confesses when you pull back to look at him.

“I’ll ride you.” You nod, reaching down and palming his cock through his jeans. “You have another condom?” You ask breathlessly. “Want you to sit right here and relax while I make you feel good.”

He nods, reaching over to grab a condom from the nightstand and he hands it to you. "I'm yours to do what you want, hermosa." He promises, a groan escaping his lips when you pull him out of his jeans and squeeze him.

He’s gorgeously uncut and you can’t help but slide down his body so you can take the head of his cock into your mouth. Wanting him to experience your mouth before you ride him. He moans and your tongue presses against the sensitive slit.

“Jesus Christ.” He hisses as you take him into your mouth. “Baby. God. I- fuck.” He groans when your eyes flick up to meet his. He’s a sucker for eye contact. It’s so sexy. You are so sexy. His cock twitches in your mouth and he swears he has to take a deep breath to control himself.

You want to make it good for him. Keeping your mouth soft and sensuous as you work him slightly deeper. Keeping your eyes on him since he seems to like that a lot. Your moan of approval when you taste the salty pre-cum reverberates around him and your hand starts to slowly pump the base of his cock while you bob your head.

"Fuck." He pants, reaching down to caress your cheek, "you're so fucking beautiful." He murmurs, "so fucking beautiful." He can't deny that you make him feel so much more than any other woman he's slept with in years. That scares him honestly.

You hum, sucking on him lightly and pulling off with a pop. “You want to cum down my throat, or do you want me to ride you?” You ask breathlessly. “Your choice baby.”

“Ride me.” He says, voice rough with desire as you slowly pump his cock. You nod and let go of his length. He shifts back against the headboard while you grab the condom and straddle his thighs.

Ripping the foil open, you pull out the rubber and pinch the tip while you roll it down his thick length. Making sure it’s secure, you pump him again while you shuffle forward and line your cunt up to sink down on him. Quickly taking him into your body with a loud moan of his real name.

He groans your name as you sink down onto him, his fingers finding your hips as you moan as he stretches you out. “God, baby girl. You feel so good.” He grunts, his hands sliding up to squeeze your tits as you settle onto him.

“You feel good.” You pant out breathlessly. Enjoying the hot hands on your tits as he pinches your nipples again. “Oh fuck, oh fuck Javi.” You whine, leaning back and letting your head fall back between your shoulders. “You’re so deep like this.”

He groans, his eyes flicking down to look at where he’s disappearing inside of you. “Jesus Christ, baby. You’re so good. Look so good.” He says as you lean back and he slides his hand across your stomach until he’s pressing his thumb against your clit.

“Fuck, Javi.” You whimper, your cunt clenching around him when he starts to rub small circles in your bundle of nerves. “You know every trick in the book, don’t you?”

He chuckles darkly, “had a lot of practice. Lost my virginity when I was fourteen.” He confesses while rubbing your clit a little faster. “Also, wanna see you cum. Like seeing you cum. You’re so gorgeous.” He reveals, leaning in to gently kiss along your shoulder.

“Hard not to feel gorgeous when I have your attention.” You admit with a sigh, enjoying the slight tickle of his mustache. “You should have a dozen kids by now.”

He snorts, “I’m careful. Always keep it wrapped and I haven’t had any accidents. Haven’t had anyone come forward yet. Why? You volunteering?” He asks with a smirk.

You moan softly, clenching down even as you grin. “That would be a conversation to have, wouldn’t it? Asking how you go together and having to explain that you knocked up the woman a drug dealer gave you. But she wanted you to.”

“Hell of a story.” He agrees, “I definitely don’t think you should get pregnant right now. I would have to kill every fucker in this goddamn country to protect you.” He says with a hiss.

Your brow arches up in surprise, you had expected him to laugh off your comment. Instead you hum in agreement and lean in to kiss his lips. “Agreed. The condom stays on.” You squeeze him again and bounce a little harder on his cock.

He’s a little relieved but also a little disappointed. He doesn’t deny that the idea of seeing you pregnant is tempting but it’s irresponsible. Beyond imagination. He has to keep you safe and that includes all aspects of your physicality. He groans when you bounce harder again. “Christ, baby.” He murmurs, “so fucking good.”

You can barely push out a light chuckle, so breathless from how his cock is hitting inside you. Deep and thick, he presses against all the wonderful spots that make your body tense every time you slam back down on his lap.

“That’s it. You gonna make yourself cum on my cock like a good girl?” He asks, licking his thumb again to press it to your clit as your hands press against his chest for balance. “So beautiful riding my cock like a goddamn rodeo.” He pants, “seen less professional ones in Texas.” He jokes breathlessly

“Ohhhh fuck!” You moan, jerking slightly at the pressure. “Yeah? You’re a Texas boy?” You ask, wanting to know more about him.

"Born and raised. Laredo." He reveals and he groans, "fuck. I- I need you to cum for me again, sweetheart. You - you're so fucking tight." He hisses when your walls flutter around his cock.

You whine, nodding as your hands brace on his broad shoulders. Increasing your pace until you are practically galloping on him. Moaning out his name until that last roll of your hips and your entire body stiffens and you scream his name.

He groans when you clamp down on his cock, your body putting him in a vice grip that he struggles to move within but he shifts onto his knees, your legs around his waist as he thrusts up into you. "Fuck. I- I'm gonna cum." He warns, unable to withhold like he did last time when you're so fucking tight around him and you sucking him off before. "Mierda. I - fuckkkk." He hisses as he bites down on your shoulder

You moan softly when you feel him throbbing inside you. “Thank you.” You whisper, closing your eyes and holding him close. “Thank you for caring for me, protecting me, satisfying me.” You know that it’s crazy but you turn your head and kiss his neck. “I’m falling in love with you.”

Normally, Javier would be shit scared. He would've been running for the hills hearing those words but he can't run away from you. Especially when he feels the same way, it's terrifying. To have something - someone - to lose when he's fighting for his life in this undercover mission. One wrong move and he's dead. You're dead. It puts everything on the line but in this moment, he doesn't give a fuck. He pulls back from you to look you in the eye. "I feel the same. We shouldn't. So much at risk but fuck, I love you." He murmurs, voice rough with emotion.

You know that it’s probably the proximity, that once you leave, he will never think of you again, but you smile into his neck and sigh happily. Your fingers caressing his back gently. “Good.” You hum, basking in the moment and stealing every second of joy life will give you. “That’s good, baby.”

****

A few weeks go by and you're settled in a routine. You sleep in Javier's bed at night...well, try to sleep after he fucks you. Then you spend your days reading and waiting for Javier to return home. One day, he comes back and you greet him with a kiss but he doesn't seem enthusiastic. "What's wrong?" You ask and his dark eyes look sad as he holds up the passport in his hand.

"Got your fake passport. You're booked on the first flight home in the morning." He says, swallowing harshly.

“Oh.” Your heart drops and you immediately have to look away from him, eyes watering. You don’t want to go, as crazy as that sounds. It’s dangerous and he’s undercover, so you can’t stay, but you don’t want to. “Well, I- I guess that tonight is our last night together.” You try to sound stoic but it falls flat. “You’ll be happy to not worry about me.”

Javier shakes his head, throwing the passport down on the table nearby and he grabs your waist to pull you into his chest. Burying his nose in your hair, he breathes you in. “Don’t want you to go. I want to stay here in this apartment with you and forget about the rest of the world but it’s dangerous here, hermosa. I can’t lose you and if something happened - fuck - no. You need to go. You need to be safe and I’m gonna try to take that bastard down.”

“You will take him down.” Javi has been opening up to you, finding it cathartic to have someone know that he’s not the monster that the men he is with are. Your arms hold him tight and you try not to cry. “You will, just like you kept me safe.”

He kisses your hair before he kisses your forehead. His nose nudges yours and he tilts your head up to press his lips to yours. He needs to know you’re safe. It’s more important than his love for you. He can love you from afar. He doesn’t want to love you from a grave site. He deepens the kiss, suddenly getting urgent with need for you as he pushes you up against the wall, his tongue sliding into your mouth.

You feel the change in the mood, from sad to desperate and you understand completely. If you are leaving, you want this time with him, you need it. The chances are that you will never see him again. Your hands move, desperately ripping open his button on the shirt he is wearing, scattering them across his apartment.

He groans into your mouth, practically devouring you, and he drags the dress you’re wearing up your body, reluctantly pulling back to pull it over your head and it’s soon on the floor. No words are spoken as he kisses your neck and cups your tits, glad you have taken to not wearing a bra in his apartment.

Your fingers push the stretched fabric of his shoulders and let it fall, attacking his belt next. He doesn’t wear underwear, so the second you can, you are wrapping your fingers around his cock and moaning when you find him already hard.

“Shit.” He hisses as you squeeze his cock and his fingers hook in your panties. He isn’t patient. He can’t wait to push them down so he’s ripping them from your body with a groan. “Fuck. Need you.” He rasps, grabbing your thighs to lift you up against the wall. “Put me in.” He orders, his cock throbbing in your grip.

You whimper his name, finding his need for you utterly intoxicating and you notch his cock against your entrance eagerly. Gasping when he doesn’t hesitate to bury himself to the hilt. No gentleness, just pure need.

He’s driven by desire, love, and desperation. He doesn’t want to lose you but he can’t be selfish. You deserve to feel safe and you need to go home. He can’t follow you and he can’t let everything he’s worked so hard for you down the drain. He groans your name and leans in to press his lips against yours as his body keeps you pressed against the wall until he starts to move his hips.

You whimper his name, clinging to him like he’s going to disappear if you let go. “I’m yours.” You promise raggedly against his lips. “All yours, make me yours.”

He loves the way you cling to him. He thrusts into you, desperate and sloppy but passionate. “Mine. Like I’m yours baby. Fuck. You’re mine.”

“Yes, yours all yours.” You pant, desperate for him to know it, to believe it. His hips slam into yours and drives you into the wall to make you moan at the roughness of it. “More, baby, I need more.”

Javi groans, his fingers digging into your thighs as he works you on his cock, lifting you up and down as he pushes you into the wall. “Fuck. Tell me what you need.” He demands, “rub your clit.”

“Just you.” You squeal breathlessly, reaching down and rubbing your clit. “Just need you. Just you baby, your cock is so good. So perfect inside me. I love you.”

“Oh fuck Javi, Javi, JAVIIIIIIIII!” You scream out in pleasure when your body locks up, core clenching down around him and soaking him with your cum. Shaking against the wall while he continues to pound into you and draw out your orgasm.

He swears his heart stops when you clamp down on his cock. “Fuck yes. That’s it baby. That’s fucking it.” He growls, loving the way you grip him and soak him and he pushes deep, “fuck. I- I gotta pull out.” He murmurs, remembering he didn’t put on a condom.

“Don’t.” You whimper, wanting to feel him just once. “I’m about to start my period.” You are, you aren’t lying to him. You should be completely safe for him to fill you up this once. “Want to feel you. Keep you with me.”

He doesn’t deny you. He groans as he thrusts hard, pushing deep inside of you a half dozen more times before he cums. He pants just before he bites down on your shoulder. “Fuck. I love you” is muffled into your skin.

Your eyes roll back and you whine at the feeling that is swimming around inside you. Enjoying the heat and wetness as he paints your walls with spurts of his hot cum. “Love you too.”

He kisses everywhere he can reach. Your nose, your cheeks, your forehead, your chin, and finally your lips. “Te amo.” He chokes into your mouth, hating that he has to let you go. He’s terrified of you forgetting all about him. He loves you. He loves you more than he ever thought possible and he’s going to leave you.

“I love you too, Javi.” You can’t help but start to cry. They are silent tears, ones that just express how badly you want to stay with him. A far cry from the woman screaming to go home not so long ago. “I don’t want to eat. I just want to go to bed, baby.” You beg. “Take me to bed.”

He doesn’t pull out of you. Instead, he carries you into the bedroom and lays you down on the bed. He’s gentle, caressing your body and he pulls out of you as he shifts to lay between your thighs. He stares at the mess he made looking at your entrance, cum threatening to drip out, and he can’t help it. He surges forward to slide his tongue between your folds.

Shuddering, you moan his name while your fingers run through his hair. You’ve learned that Javi has no problem with doing what he wants and he obviously wants to touch you like this, unconcerned with his cum between your thighs. “Fuck. I love you. I don’t want to go.”

He pulls back for a moment to say “I don’t want you to go but you have to.” He dives back in a few moments later, his tongue ravenous and carving indistinct paths while he tries to memorize every tiny detail about you.

Your moans fill the room, soft and sweet. He’s taking his time, not rushed a bit as if you have all the time in the world rather than just tonight. He reaches up and twines his fingers with yours, holding your hand as he continues to take you apart with his tongue.

He wants to burn your moans into his memory, carve your taste into his tongue, he needs to remember every single detail about you before he lets you go to return to safety. He’s slow and methodical as he pulls you apart stroke by stroke, uncaring of the salty taste of his cum combined with your tangy juices that make him go crazy.

You’re there forever, legs spread while he feasts. Time seems to suspend into nothing and your breath catches and never recovers. Making every moment drag out as your body burns and twists on itself until your orgasm snaps through you, sharp and bright, cunt gushing all over his face when he presses his thick fingers deep into your walls.

Javier groans into your clit, loving how you are clamping down on his digits. "Fuck baby. That's it." He murmurs into your flesh as you shake above him. He works you through, his fingers squelching with your combined cum.

Panting, you try to close your legs, overstimulated and nearly sobbing from the pleasure. He kisses your thigh and grins up at you. “Want another?” He asks and you shake your head. “I just want you.”

He snakes up your body, kissing every inch of skin he passes, until he is pressing his lips to yours. "I love you, hermosa." He murmurs, nudging his nose against yours as he settles beside you and pulls you into his side.

“I love you too.” You sigh softly, your hand splayed over his heart and you kiss his chest. “I know you won’t be able to call me, but I’ll be thinking about you. Hoping you’re safe. Praying you are.” You know he can’t promise you anything, this is just a flash in the pan for him, and he will go back to his normal life after he catches Escobar. “You’ve saved my life, Javier.”

He sighs, “I did what was right. I have fucked up a lot on my life but I couldn’t let you be abused or worse. You were something special from the moment I saw you. I’m just - all I ask is that when you get home, you’re happy. Be happy.” He pleads softly, wanting to know that this hasn’t all be in vain.

You want to tell him that you won’t be happy unless you are with him, but you can’t. Not when it’s not what he wants to hear. “I will, Javi.” Reaching up, you caress his cheek. “I can be happy because of you, amor.”

Javi’s dark eyes meet yours and he swallows harshly, “good.” He murmurs and brushes his lips against yours. All he wants is for you to be safe and happy…even if that isn’t with him.

****

Javier glances around the airport, worried that a sicario or two have followed him. Steve is in the terminal with another agent to make sure he has back up just in case. Your passport was accepted without question and won’t be flagged by one of the informants for Escobar who works at the airport. He bites his lip as he sets your suitcase down at the gate. Your eyes are already watery and he fights the instinct to just take you back home but he can’t. You have to go.

“This is it.” You bite your lip, aware that you shouldn’t cry but you can’t even help it. You’re doing good not bawling your eyes out. Glancing around the airport, no one seems to be watching you, but you look back at Javi. “Can I kiss you?” You plead softly. “One more time? Or is it not safe?” The last thing you want to do is to put him in danger, but you can’t imagine boarding this plane without kissing him goodbye.

Javier can’t deny you. Hell, he can’t deny himself. He reaches for you, grabbing your waist to drag you against him. His lips immediately find yours and he groans into your mouth as he pours every thing he’s felt for you into this last kiss. He doesn’t care if anyone is watching. He needs to do this, he needs you to know how he feels.

It’s a goodbye kiss. A kiss that is desperate and yearning and bittersweet. The saltiness of your tears mixes with the whiskey and nicotine from Javi’s tongue. You hold him close and kiss him back just as desperately until you are unable to think about anything but him.

He isn’t sure how long he kisses you, but soon the tannoy announces that your flight is about to board. He pulls back, pecking your lips, and he leans back to look at you, his hands caressing your waist. “It’s time to go, baby.” He says, letting go of you and your hands clench in the air as if to keep holding him. His heart is pounding in his chest but he has to let you go. “Be good. Be happy.” He demands softly, kissing your forehead as your row is called.

Walking away from Javier is the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do. Looking back at him until you can’t see him anymore, you bite back a sob as you collapse into your seat. You’re free, but at what cost when you are separated from the man you love?

****

It’s been a year and Javier has no clue if you’ve moved on. Maybe you’ve found a new guy. You could be married. The thought makes his stomach twist but he’s here. He tracked you down using his contacts and he’s here to see if you still feel the same way. He does. The former Casanova of Bogotá has been celibate since you left, wanting to focus on taking down Escobar. He fucked up. Got involved with Los Pepes and got sent home before he could take down Escobar but he’s here and he doesn’t want to focus on his failure. He swallows harshly and takes a deep breath before he rings your doorbell.

You sigh as you hear the doorbell, looking over at the door and contemplating not answering but you can’t do that. Wiping your hands on the kitchen towel, you walk over to the door and flip the lock to open the door. Since you’ve been back, you’ve settled back into life with only a few hiccups. Memories of your time in Colombia are now bittersweet, the good far overshadowing the bad.

Javier shifts from one foot to the other as you open the door and he offers you a half smile. “Hola hermosa.” He says, fingers flexing as he prepares for your reaction.

Eyes wide, your mouth drops open in shock. You never expected to see Javier again. Not really. You had convinced yourself it was that Stock-ham, whatever, you had read about. That it was just a fling for him and that you had imagined yourself in love with him. One sentence, two words from the man, a year later would prove that was a lie. “Javi!”

He stares at you, heart pounding as he prepares himself for your reaction until you fling yourself forward and wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your lips to his. He groans into your mouth, loving how you feel in his arms, pulling you so close you can barely breathe.

You don’t care that it’s been a year. That you haven’t heard from him and that you’ve wondered if he’s been dead or alive this entire time. Scouring the news for any information about Escobar and the entire ordeal down in Colombia.

He kisses you over and over until finally he pulls back and looks at you with love in his eyes. “You been good?” He asks and you nod, still speechless that he’s found you. “I, uh, I got sent home. Fucked up and got involved with the wrong people but I’m here and I- I still love you.”

“I can’t believe you are here.” When you find your tongue, you’re reaching out. Touching him in disbelief and for one horrible moment, you are convinced it’s a dream. “I’ve missed you. So much. You really still love me? It wasn’t just….circumstance?”

Javier reaches for your wrist, kissing your pulse. "I still love you. I haven't - I haven't been with anyone since you left. I fought hard to get Escobar so I could come home and find you." He admits, "I love you. I still love you."

“Oh baby.” You whimper quietly, melting against him. “I love you too. I never stopped, I couldn’t stop. You- you are the love of my life and I’m grateful Escobar gave me to you.”

Javier cups your cheeks and nudges his nose against yours. “I’m here baby. I’m here and I ain’t leaving. I love you.” He murmurs, closing his eyes as he breathes you in.

****

“Fuck Jav.” You moan as your hips rock up to meet his mouth. It’s early, the sky just changing colors with the rising sun, and Javi woke up eager to have you. He’s been at your home ever since he got back from Colombia. He took you to Texas to go to Danny’s wedding and to meet his Pa. He even got his mom’s ring from his dad but you don’t know that yet. His fingers curl deep inside of you as he sucks on your clit and the phone starts to ring. “Shit.” You hiss, trying to push his head away but he pulls back to growl “leave it.”

You pant, “it might be - fuck - important. It’s early.” You tell him but he ignores you, focusing again on making you cum. The phone rings again, “Javi.” You whine, hand reaching for the receiver but he slaps it down with his free hand, silently telling you to leave it again. His fingers push deeper and he can tell you’re close. His digits curl just right and you clamp down, crying out his name just as the phone rings again. He works you through it as much as he can before he’s pulling his soaked fingers out of you and grabbing the phone from the cradle. “Why the fuck are you calling so early?” He growls down the phone without asking who it is.

“Agent Peña.” The official voice makes him sit up. “Yeah?” He asks, voice raspy.

“The Cali Cartel. It’s time. You’re reassigned back to Colombia. I’ll call later with your flight details.” The line goes dead and he stares at it, unable to respond or say anything at all.

“What-“ you sit up and frown as he stares at the phone. “Baby, who was that?” You ask, worried that something is wrong. You know they’ve captured Escobar, Javi had gotten the news from Steve, getting drunk that night and pulling you apart for hours as fucked through his emotions.

Javier swallows, setting the phone back down and he closes his eyes for a second, unable to look at you. “I’ve been reassigned. They want me back in Colombia to take down Cali.” He reveals, his heart aching.

You hear it in his tone, he wants to go. “Oh.” Pulling the sheet over your body, you sit up, watching him start to pull away from you. “Then you have to go.” You decide, pushing away your own heartache. “They are giving you a second chance, to do it right this time. You have to go.”

Javier is torn. He wants to do it right. Take down Cali the right way and redeem himself. Yet he also doesn’t want to lose you. “I- I don’t know.” He confesses, knowing you won’t wait for him again. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Javi.” You cup his cheeks and press your lips to his. “You go to Colombia and you do what you need to do.” You tell him softly. “You want to go….so go.”

“I don’t want - I can’t leave you. I don’t want to be gone and come back to find you’ve moved on. I know we love each other but I can’t ask for you to wait for me again. I want…I want you to come with me.” He says, even though he knows the risks. He can protect you.

“W-What? Come- come with you?” You hadn’t even considered it a possibility. “The DEA would let you bring me? How?” You can’t imagine they would want to have some random civilian in the country and possibly in danger.

He nods, "Steve brought Connie. She - she was a civilian." He explains, "I don't want to lose you." He confesses, "Do you want to come with me?"

“Connie’s Steve’s wife.” You remind Javi softly. “Of course I want to come with you, but I don’t think the DEA will let you bring your girlfriend.” You admit. “You aren’t going to lose me.”

He swallows harshly, knowing you’re not wrong. “They might not let me bring my girlfriend but they’d let me bring my fiancée.” He says and you frown, “fiancée?” He sighs, opening the bedside table to grab the velvet box he had hidden in there. “I was going to take you to dinner on Friday. Make it romantic but - but I don’t want to wait.” He confesses and your eyes widen. He shifts to kneel at the edge of the bed in front of you. “You came into my life so unexpectedly and I- I don’t regret saving you from Escobar. You were the missing piece of me that I didn’t know was gone. You make me so damn happy and I know I’m bad with words but I love you with every fiber of my being. I’d do anything to keep you safe, to make you happy. Will you marry me?” He asks, opening the box.

“Jav- I-“ your throat closes as your eyes fill with tears, looking down at your love on his knee as he asks you to marry him. “Yes! Yes! Yes! I will marry you.” Launching yourself forward, you crash into him, needing to kiss him once more to remind you that this isn’t a dream.

He kisses with a smile on his lips, pouring every ounce of love he feels for you into the kiss. He pulls back after a second to get the ring out of the box. He remembers proposing to Lori and he didn’t really feel much at the time, doing it out of obligation. Right now, he’s asking you to marry him because he loves you with all of him. He takes the ring out and takes your shaking hand, sliding the ring onto your left hand.

“It’s beautiful, amor.” You gasp, looking down at the ring in awe. It really is beautiful, but beyond that, it’s the realization that Javi wants to spend the rest of his life with you. “I love it and I love you.” You promise, leaning in to kiss him again. “My fiancé.”

****

Javier looks out across the ocean, the sun is about to set and he clears his throat as the breeze makes the linen shirt he’s wearing blow up slightly. “She’s here.” The officiant announces and Javier exhales shakily, turning away from the water to see an even more exquisite sight.

God, you take his breath away. Walking towards him wearing a white sundress, he swears his heart is about to pound out of his chest. When you stand before him, he reaches for your hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. “You look gorgeous, baby.” He murmurs when he stands up straight but keeps your hand in his.

“I didn’t know you were such a romantic.” You admit, amazed by the beautiful, small wedding he had insisted on. It was gorgeously simple and yet the pinks and oranges streaking across the sky is something that could have never been replicated in a fancy church somewhere. “I love you so much.”

Javier smiles, “I love you too.” He takes your hands as you stand beside him and the officiant begins the ceremony. His stomach is twisting but not with nerves, it’s butterflies and excitement. Knowing that after this, you’ll be his wife. He never imagined he’d settle down but you changed that for him. He can’t imagine a day without you now. He squeezes your hands when you recite the vows and he proudly declares “I do” when asked if he wants to take you as his wife. The rest of the ceremony seems like a blur until the officiant says “you may now kiss the bride.” He surges forward to press his lips to yours, your rings shining on your finger as the sun disappears beyond the horizon. “I love you.” He murmurs into your mouth before he kisses you again.

Smiling against his lips, you sigh softly. “I love you too.” You never expected to find the love of your life when you had been kidnapped and given to one of the world’s most famous drug dealers in the world’s sicarios. It could have turned out to be your worst nightmare, but it ended up being your dream come true.

#pedro pascal #javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña smut #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña imagine #javier peña narcos #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena x f!reader #javier pena narcos

532 notes · View notes

visceravalentines · 7 months ago

Text

small town, sunday night

Bo Sinclair x AFAB!Reader

a discarded scene from a longer fic. Bo's pretty sure by now you know who you belong to, but he oughta make sure, just in case. on ao3 here if you wanna.

2.4k words. porn with plot if you squint. extremely dubious consent. Stockholm syndrome. forced exhibitionism, voyeurism, vaginal fingering, emotional manipulation. tried out something new where the narration is written more in Bo's voice and i'm interested to see if that works for you or nah so lmk.

The whole family’s gathered in the den on a Sunday night. It ain’t tradition, not really, it’s just that if everyone’s gonna get together it’s gonna be on Sunday.

Nobody felt like cookin’ and he don’t trust you ‘round the knives yet, so Les picked up some fried chicken from the Kroger and Bo said grace and you behaved yourself like a nice young lady, and now everybody’s sittin’ in front of the television drinkin’ beer and watchin’ football like some kinda all-American family.

He’s got you sat on his lap in a sundress that belonged to some other bitch before you. It don’t fit you right, barely covers your ass, but that’s fine by him. His brothers keep eyeing you like you’re the skin mag by the cash register. He'll let ‘em look; in fact, he wants them to look. Plus it freaks you out, makes you press yourself against his chest in search of protection and boy, if that don’t make him wanna laugh out loud. He’s all too happy to oblige, wrappin’ you in his arms and whisperin’ sweet sugary bullshit in your ear. You’re servin’ yourself up to him on a silver platter and you don’t even realize it.

He snags the six-pack off the side table and hands it to you, watches you wrestle a beer from the plastic ring and pop the tab for him without being asked.

“Good girl,” he says, and kisses your cheek when he takes the can from you. You're bein’ such an angel today that it’s got him nostalgic for that bitch with the bad attitude. He wonders if she's gone for good or if he could dig around in that pretty head of yours and find her. “You want one?”

You hesitate. He watches you do the math. You know by now you can’t get somethin’ for nothin’, but apparently you think you got plenty to give because you nod quietly.

“G’on.” He dangles the six-pack in front of you and lets you pick one for yourself. He watches the way you set your lips on the rim of the can, watches your throat bob as you swallow. Your gaze shifts uncertainly to him and he winks at you. You almost—almost—give him a shaky little smile.

You adjust yourself in his lap, tug on your dress, try to get comfortable. He rests his chin on your shoulder and waits for you to settle. He likes the smell of his soap on your skin, even if it makes him miss the animal stench of you from before. Bringin’ you home was a good call. You clean up sweet and so far you’ve been learnin’ your lessons real well. Shit, he’s almost proud of you.

Once you’ve mellowed out, sippin’ on your beer and pretendin’ this is where you wanna be, he slides his hand up your thigh, fingertips twitching at the hem of your skirt. He watches you frown and glance down at his hand and then back up at the TV like you think you can ignore him. He pushes your skirt up an inch or so and bites back a smirk when you shift and squeeze your knees together, shooting an anxious glance in the direction of his brothers.

“Somethin’ wrong, baby?” he whispers. You answer with your eyes, give him this pleading look that makes him want to tear that dress off you right here, right now. “You’re alright. Watch the game.”

Reluctantly, you turn back to the TV with this blank expression on your face that tells him he has your full attention. He moves his hand between your legs and gives your waist a hard squeeze when you stiffen. When you glance at him again he treats you to an ice-cold smile.

This is a test, girl. Better hope you got a shot at passin'.

You’re bare beneath the dress ‘cause what would you need panties for, and he worms his hand between your thighs until his fingers find that soft, warm center of you. You jerk like a mare tryin’ to shake off a fly, but you don’t make a sound. He probes until his middle finger slips like silk into your slit almost up to the second knuckle and Jesus, girl, you’re so wet it makes his mouth water. This is why he never listens to you, because you don’t even know that you’re lying when you do it.

He eases his finger out of you and back in deeper, watches your lips part but no sound come out. He does it again and your lashes flutter like a doll’s. You’re sittin’ still as a statue for now but he’s gonna break you. Promise.

“You been so good, baby girl,” he murmurs into the shell of your ear. His thumb prods at your clit and you strangle the life out of a gasp as it tries to sneak into the room. “Wanna make sure you know how much I appreciate you behavin’ yourself.” He rubs that sweet spot in lazy circles and savors the way your back arches slow, so slow, tryin’ so hard to keep it a secret that he’s finger-fucking you ten feet from his family.

You think they don’t know, huh? You think they don’t see you’re nothin’ but a slut? Maybe you oughta think a little less.

You get that look on your face like you’re determined to take back control of yourself but you belong to him, girl, that body is his. When he pushes another finger into your pussy your toes curl on the arm of the chair and this little moan makes it out alive and both his brothers were raised huntin’ so they know what a creature in distress sounds like and all the sudden, you’re the Sunday evening special.

“Well looky here,” Les says, and wolf whistles.

Your eyes go wide and you cover your face with your hands and Bo can’t help it, he breaks into a grin. He thought he’d wrung all the shame right outta you by now, but apparently he thought wrong.

You peer over your fingers at him with tear-filled eyes and this time, you might just be cryin’ for real. You look so betrayed it makes him sick, makes him wish he could take it back just so he can do it to you again.

“’S alright, baby, they’re just lookin’,” he coos.

“We are most certainly lookin’,” Les agrees, and ordinarily Bo would smack him, but the way your lip quivers makes his dick twitch.

“Pretend they ain’t even here,” he says low in your ear. “Unless you like that sorta thing. You like bein’ watched, honey? You some kinda slut?”

He already knows the answer even if you don’t. He can tell by the way that sweet little cunt keeps spasin’ around his fingers like somethin’ dying. And you don’t deny it, just keep beggin’ him to stop with those big doe eyes. He don't gotta work hard to pull your focus back to that ache between your hips. All it takes is a little spit on his thumb, a little less friction on that poor swollen clit, and you’re melting in his hands.

“I’m just showin’ ‘em, baby,” he whispers. “Just makin’ sure they know you’re mine.”

He collects your wrists with his free hand and pulls them down to expose your face. You make a sound, some kinda protest, but you don’t fight him off like you used to. That girl’s been buried six feet deep inside you and you’re all that’s markin’ her grave.

“Hey Vince. Do me a favor?” Bo tosses his head towards the camera sitting on the coffee table where he left it, a brand-new roll of film ready and waitin’ inside. His twin snatches it up without question and puts his goddamn gift to good use.

You’re fightin’ it hard, makin’ him work for it, but he knows your body better than you do by now. When you cum, you try to hide it, bitin’ your lip and screwin’ up your face. But you can’t keep that pussy from grippin’ him tight, throbbin’ like your life depends on it. You squeeze his hand. A whine sneaks out of your throat and he catches it in his mouth, swallows it whole, savors it to the last.

You slump against his chest, let your head roll into the hollow of his shoulder because it's got nowhere else to go. You're soakin’ his shirt, soakin’ his hand. You're made of water, girl. Maybe that's why you make him so goddamn thirsty.

“Well she’s a delight,” Les says, slaps his thighs, stands up. “I'm gonna head home ‘n jerk off unless you gents need anything.”

He has the gall to reach for one of the Polaroids Vince is layin’ out on the coffee table like playing cards and Bo hisses through his teeth.

“Leave it. I ain't handin’ out souvenirs.”

Les rolls his eyes and slinks off like a stray mutt. Vincent looks for a second like he might make a case for himself, but thinks better of it and rightly so. He hands Bo the stack of photos and creeps back downstairs where he belongs and now it's just you and him and the TV static.

You're stiff as a board in his arms but you're clingin’ to his shirt with all you got so which is it, woman? He kisses your temple and starts shufflin’ through the pictures. Mama's favorite son ain't immune to the charms of the pornographic and most of them center on the view up your skirt, the curve of your ass, your juice shinin’ on his knuckles.

But there's one, just one, of your face lookin’ up at him. With these big, round eyes fixed on him and your hands cupped together in front of your chest. You look like you're prayin’, girl. Like you're worshiping him.

He licks his lips, looks down at you. You’re starin’ straight ahead into space, head on his chest, tits swellin’ against the bodice of that dress as you breathe deep in and out. He can tell you're searchin’ for the way back to that place you used to go, safe and warm without him.

You can't find it. It ain't there anymore. All you got is what you got.

“Can we go to bed?”

He’s surprised you’re speakin’ to him. Your voice is low and rough from the tears. You don't look at him until he tucks his finger beneath your chin and tilts your face up. There's somethin’ bright and broken in your eyes like glass.

“Please.”

He hates givin’ you what you want, doesn't want you gettin’ the wrong idea about who's in control here. He can't be spoilin’ you any more than he already has. But he prizes that look of relief and gratitude you give him when he's generous. That little furrow between your brows that melts away when he's good to you.

“Sure, baby.”

There it is. You slump against him beneath the force of your relief and fuck you for the way his hands move to hold you without him thinkin’ about it.

He don't carry you to bed. You're not a goddamn princess no matter what you might think of yourself. But you drop that dress that ain't yours to the floor and crawl naked into his sheets and when he climbs into bed beside you, you inch your way over ‘til you're pressed up against his ribs.

He can barely hear you breathin’. You're hardly even there. The old you would be rippin’ into his stomach, thrashin’ fit to snap your own spine. This new bitch, though, she’s manageable. Sweet, even.

Probably you don't mean for him to hear it but something like a sob sneaks out of you and it gives him butterflies. He rolls onto his side and slings his arm around you.

“Don't cry, now. You're alright.”

You shrink into him, make yourself small and bite-sized. You need him so bad and he knows it, figures you’re startin’ to figure it out too. What would you do without me, huh?

“Was I too mean, baby?” You choke on those tears and he bites his lip. “I'm sorry…you forgive me?”

You whimper, can't commit. It ain't your fault you're stuck tryin’ to make sense of it all, ‘specially with him feelin’ you up like he is. He can't keep a straight face, grinnin’ into the back of your neck. “I just got carried away, showin’ off my girl.” He pushes his hips against your ass. “You are my girl, right?”

A breath shudders through your body. You arch your back, don't even know you're doin’ it. He wraps his hand around your throat like a collar, nice and snug, squeezes just a little to get you back on course. “I asked you a question. You got an answer for me?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, I'm your girl.”

Your voice breaks and whew, he's got blood rushin’ every which way. “Tell me you forgive me.”

You don’t respond. He tightens his grip just beneath your jaw, brings his lips to your ear.

“Fuckin’ answer me, huh? You forgive me? I gotta hear it, baby doll, or I’ll be up all night.”

His fingers dig into your flesh. He can feel you shaking like a leaf in the wind with fear or fury or something else he can put to use. He’s grindin’ against that ass, just about ready to flip you facedown and fuck the sense back into you, when you finally give him what he wants.

He always gets what he wants, baby. Haven’t you figured that out by now?

“I forgive you,” you rasp, and he loosens his grip and feels your tits press against his arm as you suck in air.

“Ain’t you sweet,” he says, and he presses a kiss to the side of your head, and when he rolls back an inch or two you scoot right along with him until your back is flush to his chest again, and that’s fuckin’ hilarious, huh? Just can’t get enough.

He lays in the dark and feels your breath on his knuckles, feels it hitch, feels it slow, feels it mellow out and go feather-soft, and before he knows it, he’s out like a light.

You wear him the fuck out, girl.

#lmaoooooo back in the fucking building again boys #i'd like to thank my glass of wine for giving me the courage to pursue my dreams #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #x reader #slasher x reader #bo sinclair fanfiction #house of wax fanfiction #don't worry i WILL be checking my follower count in the morning to see which of you are lame as hell

412 notes · View notes

alwayssassydreamer · 2 months ago

Text

Charmed And Disarmed

A/N: thanks Ann for asking for a fluffy story with Shanks who is getting on the readers nerve until she agrees to go on a date with him, hope you like it.

Plot: you're trying to avoid your incredibly charming captain but he wouldn't let up until he gets what he wants

Warnings: none, just a fluff-ish story

Characters: Shanks x F!Reader cameo by Beckmann, Hongo, Yasopp

You were busy working on the deck of the Red Force, focused on your task as the sun shined down, the wind was gentle, the crew was bustling around you, and the day should have been peaceful. But, of course, nothing was ever peaceful when Shanks was around.

"Need a hand?" Shanks’ voice suddenly drawled from over your shoulder. You felt him lean in, his breath brushing against your ear. His tone was smooth, that familiar teasing edge made your heart skip a beat.

"I’m fine," you said, trying to keep your voice steady as you felt a flush creeping up your neck.

Shanks didn’t budge. "Are you sure? It looks like you’re having a hard time... concentrating." There was amusement in his voice, and you could feel his grin without even looking at him. He leaned even closer, practically invading your personal space.

From the other side of the deck, you heared Yasopp snicker. "C’mon, captain, don’t be shy now. You know she can’t resist your charm."

The rest of the crew burst out laughing, clearly enjoying the show.

You shot Yasopp a glare, but Shanks seized the opportunity, lowering his voice so only you could hear it

“They know you like the attention.”

Your face turned even redder, and you opened your mouth to protest, but he was already standing up straight, looking incredibly pleased with himself.

"How long until she cracks? I give it two minutes," Yasopp said loudly.

"Two minutes? I say less!" Hongo shouted, and soon, the entire crew was placing bets on how long it’ll take for Shanks to get under your skin.

Shanks winked at you, stepping a little closer again.

“We’ve got an audience now. Care to make this interesting?” His voice was playful, but there was a challenge in his eyes.

The whole crew was watching, waiting for you to crack, while Shanks stood there, all charming smiles and relentless teasing.

The longer you tried to keep your composure, the more impossible it became. Every little word, every glance, just added to your growing fluster, and Shanks knew it. He was enjoying every second of it.

Finally, when you couldn't take it anymore, you shoved the papers into his chest.

"You want to be helpful, Captain? You finish the paper work then!"

The crew erupted in laughter as Shanks held up his hands in surrender, but his eyes sparkled with victory.

After days of enduring Shanks’ relentless teasing, you decided to take matters into your own hands.

Every time you stepped onto the deck, it seemed like Shanks was there—ready with a smirk, a flirty comment, or some harmless touch that sent your heart racing.

You needed an escape, so you started spending more time in the infirmary, assisting Hongo with medical supplies, or helping Beckman sort through the endless stacks of paperwork.

"If you keep hiding in here, the crew's going to think you’ve suddenly developed an interest in medicine," Hongo said with a raised brow.

"I'm just avoiding.....distractions." you said with a sheepish grin.

"Sure. But you know he's going to find you in here right" Hongo replied with a small chuckle.

And he was right. It didn't take long until Shanks entered the infirmary.

"There you are. Already feared you would have gone overboard" Shanks joked.

"I’ll leave you two to it.” Hongo said glancing between you and Shanks, smirking as he left.

"What’s this? Playing nurse now?” Shanks teased, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Just offering a helping hand" you muttered not meeting his gaze.

"Seems you've been developing some sort of helper syndrome lately. Or is this part of your strategy to avoid me"

"No.....I'm just being helpful" you said as you felt that familiar warmth in your cheeks as he stepped closer again, clearly not buying your excuse.

"Sure you are" he said his tone full of amusement. "But you can’t avoid me forever, you know."

Unfortunately for you he was right. Everytime you were hiding in Beckman's quarters helping him with the paperwork Shanks would enter the room. Dropping a playful comment, teasingly poke your side or stand too close to you all while Beckman chuckled under his breath.

It seemed like there was just no way to escape your captain's teases.

After he left you flustered again Beckmann smirked.

"You know he’s not going to stop, right? Might as well face him head-on.” he said amusement in his voice.

You sighed feeling the need to find a better tactic.

Next day you told yourself that you would just blend your captain's advances on you out. Which worked at the beginning pretty well but not for long cause Shanks isn’t easily deterred.

“What are you working on so hard that you can’t even look at your charming captain?” he called out, his voice loud enough for the whole crew to hear.

You ignored him, focusing intently on the chart in front of you, pretending it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. The laughter of the crew filled the air, and you could feel their eyes darting between you and Shanks, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

“Is she playing hard to get?” Shanks teased looking at his crew. “I like a challenge.”

You refused to glance up, but you couldn’t suppress the smile threatening to break through. You heard the crew chuckling, and you wished they would have just let this go.

"C’mon, sweetheart! Just a smile for your charming captain?” Shanks persisted, leaning over your shoulder, his presence made it increasingly difficult to concentrate

"I’m busy, Shanks!” you exclaimed, shooting him an irritated look.

The crew bursted into laughter, clearly relishing the interaction.

Shanks raised his hands in mock surrender, but the playful glint in his eyes remained. “Busy? Or trying to ignore me?”

“I’m trying to get work done!” you replied, trying not to chuckle.

"You know you can’t ignore me forever, right? I’ll always be right here, waiting for you to crack.” His teasing tone sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach, and you turned back to your work, determined not to let him get to you.

But you could feel the tension in the air, the crew’s eyes watching the unfolding drama with glee and you knew you couldn't resist him much longer.

------

You were sitting at the table playing cards with Beckmann, Yasopp and Hongo enjoying the peace without the captain. You were determined to finally win, not realizing Shanks approaching.

The other men at the table already grinning as they saw their captain carefully sneaking up to you.

You jumped in your seat as you felt him poke your side. "Fuck" you cursed, breath hitching.

"You should definitely work on your observation haki" Yasopp teased you with a smile.

"I hate you all" you said not able to supress the smile on your face.

"Maybe the captain can help you win before I'm starting to feel sorry for how bad you are at this game" Hongo stated making the others chuckle.

"Sounds fair" Shanks replied as he pulled you off the chair, sitting down on it and pulling you onto his lap. You could feel your cheeks flush almost immediately, your body was on fire.

"Show me those cards" he motioned for your hand to hold the cards up. He rested his chin on your shoulder oberserving the cards while you had a hard time to hold your hand still and keep it from shaking.

You could feel the other three staring at you knwing that they were amused by your 'misery'. Shanks clearly enjoying your discomfort and the way your body tensed.

"Maybe this was a bad idea it seems you're about to lose again" Yasopp teased smirking at you.

And he was right of course you lost. Shanks seemed too observed with you sitting on his lap and you were busy to keep your body from shaking.

Shanks sighed.

"Sorry for that I was sure we'd win. But I'll make it up to you, we will dock tomorrow. I know this quiet little place on this island that serves the best drinks. You’ll love it. Good food, good atmosphere..you and me" he said smoothly, voice dropping to that low, almost-too-charming tone he used when he was up to something.

"Wait what?" You asked getting off his lap.

"Just some......relaxation after I've been annoying you" he continued.

Yasopp, Hongo, and Beckman were watching with amused expressions, clearly catching on to Shanks' real intent, but they didn’t say a word. They just sat back, watching as the realization slowly dawned on you.

"Fine but you have to promise to leave me alone until then" you said. You could really use some time off and a good drink.

"Deal" Shanks winked, then stood up, heading off with that casual, confident stride of his.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Yasopp let out a low whistle while Hongo chuckled lightly. You looked at them confused.

"You do know he just asked you out right" Beckman said a small smirk playing on his lips

"What!?!" You almost yelled. You froze, blinking as it hit you.

You glanced at the others, who were all smirking knowingly.

Hongo glanced at you a mocking grin on his face. "Looks like his strategy worked. In the end he got what he wanted"

#one piece #shanks #akagami no shanks #red hair pirates #benn beckman #hongo one piece #yasopp #red haired shanks #shanks x reader #shanks x you #yasopp one piece

246 notes · View notes

raven-at-the-writing-desk · 9 months ago

Text

I've been dreaming of my First Friend.

In this strange new world, nothing is certain—not even one’s safety.

But through it all, you were with me. Always by my side.

Please don’t leave me behind.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

"Grrr...! This stupid thing won't close," Grim complains. He fumbles with the buttons on his robes, which refuse to be secured.

"That's because you've got two left thumbs... or, more accurately, no thumbs at all," his human companion teases. They crouch down, gesturing for him. "Here, I'll help you."

"Myahaha, that's my minion!" Grim scrambles over on all fours—definitely not like a cat. He's far more dignified than some glorified house pet or familiar.

"You're going to get your clothes dirty if you walk around like that," they scold him lightly as they cinch his robes shut, then dusts him off. They pause, going in to adjust his waistband, then the angle of his cap. "There you go." "All set for your big day."

"Our big day," Grim corrects, nudging them on the cheek with his paw. "We're a 2-for-1 deal, remember?"

"Right. Me and the almighty Grim-sama," they reply with a laugh, poking his little nose.

An ear-splitting sob disrupts the intimate scene. Three ghosts in top hats and gray cloaks sail in—one small, one plump, one scrawny—all wailing.

"I can't believe this day's finally arrived!"

"Grimmy and Prefect, all grown up... Off to tackle Twisted Wonderland head-on..."

"WAAAAH, I'm gonna miss my living roomies!!"

"Hey, hey, what's with the empty nest syndrome, guys?" The prefect huddles with the ghosts. They cannot physically touch, but the same energy is there, their arms lingering where the ghosts’ bodies float.

“B-But…!”

“Don't worry. No matter the time or place, we'll carry the spirit of Ramshackle dorm with us wherever we go.“ They smile sympathetically. “That means you’ll always be with us! This world, this life… and into the next.”

"D-Do you really think friendships can last more than a lifetime?" one ghost asks through his tears.

"For sure. So please… Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened. Can you do that for us?”

“O-Okay,” the trio blubbers and sniffles.

“Geez, you’re all a buncha babies,” Grim sighs, paws on his hips. “C’mon, we’re supposed to be celebratin’ US today!! Like my minion said, let’s see some smiles, yeah?”

“We’ll come see you off at the ceremony the,” the small ghost suggests. The cheer is strained, like he is holding back a torrent of tears.

"The ceremony…” The prefect’s eyes go wide and panicked. “Oh crap, we're going to be late! The headmaster should already be starting his speech...!"

"Not a problem, leave it to this Grim-sama. A teleportation spell's easy as takin' a tuna can from a kitten!"

"Sorry, guys. Gotta run...! We'll see you there?"

Grim expertly clambers onto the prefect's neck, making himself comfortable as a boa on their shoulders. The magestone dangling from his neck lights up, and the duo are enveloped in its glow.

The last sight before they blip away are the ghosts, waving good-bye with wet eyes.

A blink later, the two are among a crowd of students in the same uniform as them. Long robes, graduation caps affixed to their heads. They're lined up behind a stage, the curtain stained the dark sapphire of a night sky and dotted with sparkling stars.

Crowley's voice drones from the other side, amplified by a microphone. A waiting crowd murmurs appreciatively as he crows on about hard work, congratulations, and new beginnings.

"See?" Grim winks at his minion. "What'd I tell ya? Anything’s a cinch with my magic~”

"Great going, archmage-in-the-making. You really saved our butts," they say, ruffling his fur. “Come to think of it, were running late for our first day too… and the sorting ceremony before that. I guess we’re destined to be tardy together, huh, Grim?”

"Heh, you got that right!" He bumped his tiny fist with his partner's. “Let’s keep at it, you ‘n me! Grim-sama and his loyal minion, together forever.”

"Oiiiii! Grim, Prefect!!"

"Oh, that’s..."

They glance up, finding a group of boys making their way toward them in the crowd. One with a heart etched onto his face, the other, a spade. A wolf beastman, another with reptilian eyes and slicked back hair, trailed by a smaller, delicate boy and an android with a head of blue flames. Old friends from the other dorms.

"There you are. We thought we'd missed you." Deuce calls out, looking relieved.

"Idiot, we wouldn’t have missed them—you worried for nothin’. They're first on the chopping block cuz they're sooo special." Ace rolls his eyes. "Lu~cky. You get to show off and hog the spotlight before anyone else does.”

"We um... wanted to come and say good luck," Epel offers. "It's a big deal to have made it this far. Starting a new life in an unfamiliar world and all, it's a lot."

"Thanks, everyone. I really couldn't have made it these past few years without your support."

"Ah-HEM!" Grim coughs.

"... And Grim," the prefect added, scratching him behind the ears.

"This is really it, then." Jack is blunt, his arms folded. "Our last chapter at Night Raven College."

"Hmph! Is that all you have to say?! Surely you can muster up more oomph than that!! Today is not just that--it is the start of the rest of our lives." Sebek straightens, looking rather proud.

"Hmm..." Ortho taps at his chin contemplatively. "You know what? When words are not enough to express ourselves, action may be the next best thing!"

"... Wait, what exactly are you suggesting?" Ace asks suspiciously, an eyebrow raised.

"A group hug! For one final sendoff."

Sebek is the first to protest, his voice cutting through loud and clear. "I refuse!! There is absolutely NO WAY I am engaging in physical intimacy with you humans!"

"Not so hot on the idea either."

Ace and Deuce warily stare at each other. "Not happening," they chorus at the same time.

"Well, if the others don't want to, then..." Epel trails off.

"Guys, shut up and group hug already," the prefect groans, throwing their arms around their friends. Reluctant grumbles round the group, but no one makes an active effort to peel away.

“GACK!!” Grim chokes out, crushed between everyone’s chests. When their bodies recede, he collapses, vision spinning, seeing stars.

“Hahah, looks like Grim got flattened like a pancake,” Ace jeers. “Still got it in ya to waltz on stage after that?”

“C-Can it!! Of course I do!” he snaps back.

The timing is opportune. Right then, Crowley’s speech reaches them, a summons.

“… We will now begin calling up our students to receive their diplomas, starting with Ramshackle Dorm.”

“Looks like that’s our cue, Grim.”

“Let’s get goin’!!”

The prefect steps back and passes one final look to their peers. People from many different places, many different backgrounds. United at last.

“Go.”

They do.

Clutching onto their graduation cap, the prefect races up the steps from the wings. Grim bounding along by their side. Every stride equal against the other’s.

Like shooting stars, they’ve come so far. They can’t go back to where they used to be.

When they emerge from the darkness, they’re hit with bright sunshine and stage lights. Spring is in full bloom, welcoming them with balmy weather and armfuls of flowers.

The headmaster beams from behind a podium, gesturing for them to approach. In his grasp, two scrolls secured with navy ribbons.

Their diplomas.

“Presenting Grim and the Prefect, our special students sharing the spot of Valedictorian.”

Grim squeals, soaked up the adoration. He waves at the audience, flashes silly poses for the cameras. The prefect laughs, prodding him along with their hands.

“Come on, let’s not stall the ceremony for everyone else.”

“One moment.”

A smallish figure blocks their path. It’s a young man with crimson hair and heart-shaped ahoge. He holds out his hand--and the prefect, stunned, takes it.

"Riddle-senpai. You've returned."

"Prefect. Grim." He politely greets them, shaking their hands in turn. "May the Queen of Hearts and her spirit of strictness guide you as you cross this threshold in life. Remain disciplined, and I know you will both achieve even greater things."

Riddle releases, and another seizes their hands. This shake is rougher, looser.

"Congrats, you survived four years at this place," Leona purrs. He wears less of a smile and more of a bemused smirk. "Persisted, like the King of Beasts did."

His duty done, he casually drops them. Azul elegantly ducks in, his grasp firm and tone professional.

"Fufu. What an honor it is to reunite like this. Your benevolence has done much to improve our dear Night Raven College. The Sea Witch would surely extol your generosity."

"Prefect, Grim!!"

Azul steps back with a bow, making space for the next person.

Kalim practically collides with them, excitedly yanking their hands up and down as he chatters. "So good to see you again!! Gahahah, you haven't changed a bit! I bet you're much wiser now though--maybe just as mindful as the Sorcerer of the Sands was!”

Behind him, someone clears their throat. Awareness hits him and Kalim gasps, letting go of the graduates.

"It takes considerable tenacity to arrive at this milestone,” Vil says, clasping the prefect and Grim’s hands in his own. Then, he smiles ever so slightly. “… Be proud, potatoes. Your efforts have not gone unnoticed by the Beautiful Queen.”

He steps aside, allowing a gloomy, hooded figure to replace him. Idia grimaces, shielding his eyes from the lights glaring down at him.

“Tch… Dragged me out here for this,” he mutters, keeping his clammy, pale hands shoved squarely into his hoodie pockets.

A pause—and Idia managed an anxious smile. “GG or whatever. I guess even an amateur can clear hard levels if they’re diligent enough. The King of the Underworld was a noob at one point too.”

(“Is that really the most encouraging thing you could muster?” Vil tuts from the sidelines.)

With that, Idia shuffles off, joining the other ex-dorm leaders.

“Nyahahah, it feels nice to be recognized~” Grim snickers.

“Well, I certainly hope you haven’t had your fill yet.”

A frigid touch comes upon the prefect and Grim’s hands. That voice, like sudden nightfall. They find themselves staring up at a colossal shadow with leering green eyes, scales studding their forehead.

"M-Myah?!” Grim’s fur stands on end.

“Even you came, Tsunotaro!!” the prefect gasps.

“I wouldn’t miss this ceremony for the world,” Malleus smoothly reassures them. “I wished to lend my support to my dear friends and send them off with my blessing.”

He raises his arms to the open sky. Bright blue, barely a cloud in it. Sunlight pouring down, framing the ceremony in a golden spotlight.

“The Thorn Fairy’s utmost value is nobility. As you of the new generation sally forth into the world, let your souls shine as noble and true as her own.“

Uproarious applause rises, cheering and clapping combining into one frantic melody. The flowers blush, swelling large and healthy with color. The sun itself seems to brighten too, the wind lifting in a joyous, effervescent song.

“Congratulations...!!”

“Waaaah, Tsunotaro made the whole world light up!” Grim cries, eyes sparkling. “Heheh, okay, that’s a pretty good one—but watch out cuz one day I’ll be one of the top 5 strongest, most charismatic mages too!”

“Fufufu. I look forward to that day.”

Malleus bends down, his lips puling back to reveal luminous teeth.

“May you never be apart,” he whispers, so quiet that no one hears. Then, more loudly, “Congratulations. I wish you all a happily ever after.”

“I dunno what you’re goin’ on about, but thanks for hypin’ us up!!” Grim grins from ear to ear. “Today’s definitely… the best day ever!”

“I’m glad of it.”

And may it remain that way, forevermore.

408 notes · View notes

beiasluv · 1 year ago

Text

f1 tropes that I daydream about

a/n: yes, i have d.l.s (dilf lover syndrome)

— dilf!jenson crushing on a younger reader. keeping things appropriate when he’s ripping his skin off inside. reader being this cheeky gal, playing innocent just to push his buttons. (wink) jokes aside, I just know that the tension is pregnant in the air. imagining wearing a dress he loves to a house party, he just needs to whip you out to a bathroom.

— princess treatment everyday from mr. button himself. hands on your waist, rubbing it in circles, keeping your skirt from rolling too high (in public) ‘darling’ just feels to wrong yet so right.

— teenage dirtbag!jenson going to frat parties and ended up crashing at your place. trying to be civilized and give him a proper treatment. while unbuttoning his shirt, he got it the wrong way (very much to your liking- and y’know what happens next 😉)

— dilf jenson, finding his pregnant reader and his dogs cuddling together. (I hate pregnancy trope but gah daium)

— rbr!sebastian being this meanie he always is, treating everyone like a fucking dick except reader. (or it could go another way that he treats reader like a fucking dick until tension explodes and they found themself in a compromising 😉 situation at a party, drunk and intoxicated. room screaming of sex.) long run is, reader felt like a fucking piece of meat, seb running after her to prove her wrong. princess treatment, darling, spoiling, you name it.

— your favorite german brat, being all slutty and flirty to his grid boyfriend (button/jenson) and you get jealous, pulling him for a heated kiss in the cool down room. seb just grinning to the kiss, tugging your hair harder.

— rbr!seb being all obsessed with his younger assistant/manager, can’t take her seriously for fuck’s sake. smiling like a fucking idiot even when she’s mad at him, so she just kiss him stupid to get him into his senses.

— sugardaddy!mark 😔🤭 he’s just your dumb himbo/dilf paying for your attention/happiness (fuck you to who ever say money can’t buy happiness) you got him wrapped around your fingers, girlbossing him all you want. (and he’s happy with it) until you fiddled too much with his patience (in a good way) he finally thinks he has to teach you some lessons and proves who actually wears the pants. 😉

— dilf!webber visiting your family’s house for a bbq. being the aussie he is, got assigned to take care of the grill, while you walk around in your promiscuous little dress. killing him in every way known to man.

— carlos sainz and innocent kink is my favorite McCombo. being a simp for you with his big brown eyes, what ever you say pretty boy. but just so you know that he can corrupt you whenever he wants.

feel free to use them, write them, daydream- tag me if you made something 🤭🤭

715 notes · View notes

arsonlookers · 7 months ago

Text

Hi meet MY NEW OBSESSION

am I the only one? why are there no people talking about this crazy fox? like my second male lead syndrome is kicking in OMG😭 HELP, this fox might be the death of me, I dont know he is like bruh stay away from be also want him so BAD😭

He is Shiho Baek from A not so fairy tale also known as Extroversion of an Immortal

Guys hear me out ok MY reasons why this Fox is just damn Hot

and reason to read the manwha :]

One: He is a yandere [dont tell me other wise read the manwha, damn he is so crazy in and I LOVE how crazy he is!]

Two: He is so cute and Hot at the same time! like I do like foxes [call out childe here and aven hahaha] he IS A NINE-TAILED FOX!! come on 😭

three:

please he is so cute!!😭

four: His eyes, his lips, his everything!!! I WANT HIM BAD!! 😭 I don't care if he is bat shit crazy or masochist at some point I just FIND HIM SO ATTRACTIVE 😭

Five: I tell you the main characters are damn HOT like even the female lead She man not be that great of a person but she has a understanding point and reasons why she like that dont hate her.SHE SO COOL!!

but where here to talk about him

SOOOO YEAHHHHH 😭

sixth: DAMN THIS MAN IS THE REASON WHY PEOPLE IN MY FAMILY THINK IM CRAZY EVERY NIGHT FOR LAUGHING MANIACALLY😭

seventh: GUys....he is not a bad guy, he just wants love😭 provide him love, provide him all love come on the love he knows is just twisted and sad, I cant😭

eight: spoiler: there is one part of the manwha where he said he just prayed and prayed for FL's pain to go away or how he is ok to be chocked, slapped, tied up, as long as FL dont suffer or make that sad suffering face anymore 😭 can you hate him?

Ninth: 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 why sad??? why trauma?

tenth: The manwha is still ongoing but I just feels 😭 I dont know The FL is so sad and the Ml is also Sad and the second fox baby is also sad

spoiler:

P.S. Whoever the hell is the woodcutter I will cut him with my bare hands if its not because of him maybe all of this will not happen because he just makes everyone suffer after a thousand years😭 the hell you are! I will cut you!!

if the Fl don't need or love him I can... I CAN FIX HIM!! I WOULD LOVE TO FIX HIM!!!

He is the PERFECT specimen my comrades who love Yandere men *wink wink* he so attached and so down come on if you love to choke him he is down bad *wink wink* he would love that hehehe

he also reminds me of someone SIYUN BAEK bastard i love him too

244 notes · View notes

justmeinadaze · 9 months ago

Text

We're A Family Part 24 (Steddie X You)

A/N: So I am calling this the final part just because it IS the final part of the main story but I'm not done with this little family. I still have a few ideas for them so it won't be the last we see.

Warnings: Dads SteddieX Mom Fem Y/N, SMUT of the passionate tender variety that comes with these three, No real ANGST, Dylan going off to college and the three parents here dealing with that. Some flashbacks of Dylan and the reader struggling with Charlie.

The biggest feels here will come along with anyone who has experienced empty nest syndrome so be aware of that.

FLUFF, The guys talk a lot about how much they love their son and vice versa <3.

Word Count: 4965

Good Neighbors/ We're a Family

Your eyes run along newborn Dylan’s little sleeping face as his tiny hand holds your finger. Charlie had passed out long ago, curled up on the makeshift bed as he softly snored. They could be twins.

“I’m glad you’re finally here. Your daddy and I have been so excited to meet you.”, you coo in a gentle tone. “I promise, baby, you are going to have the best life. I’ll do anything I can to protect you and make you happy just like my dad did. I wish you could have met him. He would have adored having a grandson.”

Your voice cracks as tears sting your eyes at the thought. Dylan wiggles a bit in your hold as if he was getting more comfortable as his head turned towards your chest.

Tilting down, you tenderly kiss his forehead and inhale his baby smell.

“I love you so much.”

***

“Hey, sit your little butt down.”, Eddie teases as he lightly tugs on Aurora’s skirt, ushering her to sit beside him.

“But then I can’t see Dylan!”

“Thankfully the ceremony hasn’t started yet so there’s nothing for you to see.”

Vivian chuckles above him as Ro sticks out her tongue and the metalhead does the same.

“She’s definitely got some personality.”

“Yeah, she gets that from her mother.”, Steve jokes as he shifts James in his lap while the little boy continues to play with the man’s tie.

You smile his way but quickly focus back on the students in their seats on the lawn a feet away from the bleachers your family was sitting on. Dylan was laughing with his friends around him and occasionally winking at Daisy from her seat down the way. God, he had picked up way too much from Eddie.

This was a lot harder than you thought it would be. It felt like you were just holding him in arms feeding him a bottle and now suddenly he’s graduating high school. In a week he would be in a completely new state and living his own adult life.

Why did he have to grow up so fast?

The feeling of fingers brushing your hair behind your ear brought you back to realty before you were being pulled to Steve’s side.

“I know, baby. I know.”

A ringed hand encapsulated your own as Eddie kissed the back of it and didn’t let go till the end of the ceremony. Feeling little hands play with your hair, you tilt your head back to see Brody beaming wide before giggling and kissing your forehead.

“Yeah, he’s been doing that lately and we can’t figure out why.”, Vivian’s new boyfriend explained as he lifted him onto his lap.

An accountant, this man was definitely different from Charlie which having been a partner to him as well you understood why she would go down that route. Eddie and Steve liked him even though the metalhead would tease him from time to time when he got a bit too excited when talking about numbers. You and Dylan made sure to remind him that he was the exact same when it came to D&D and he immediately shut up.

“Ed here used to hug people when he was a toddler. Pure strangers, he would just run to them and give ‘em a hug.”, Wayne chimed in making Steve chuckle at the thought.

Your mom and Mrs. Harrington weren’t able to make it to the ceremony due to previous commitments they were unable to squeeze out of but Kierra promised to record everything which she did with her phone held high in the air. Wayne and Mrs. Harrington were honestly surprised Dylan wanted them there.

“They’re my grandparents to. Why wouldn’t I want them there?”

Steve’s mom cried when he told her and Eddie’s uncle turned into the equivalent of goo as he blushed.

Even after the months that had passed, your son followed through with not having Charlie there, the three of you sitting with him in his room as he made the call. He texted you after asking if it would be ok to swing by at least before he left for college and you told him you were ok with that.

Everyone quieted down as the principal walked across the stage and began the graduation ceremony.

###########

Your eyes shift between your husband and your four-year-old son as they pick at the food on their plates. Charlie’s fingers moved quickly along his phone and it killed you. You hated that thing and how much time he spent on it.

“Baby?”

“Hm.”

“Charles.”

“What, Y/N?”, he snaps.

“Why don’t you put your phone down, huh?”

“I’m talking to my boss.”

“Ok. Can he not wait until after dinner?” When he ignores you, your worried eyes glance towards Dylan whose wide observant ones immediately focused back down on his plate. “Charlie, come on. I’m asking for one hour.”

“Jesus.”, he whines as he slams down his device making you and your son jump. “I’m dealing with a big important thing for work…to make us money…for you and Dylan but sure! Let me put everything on the back burner! How was your day, honey?”

Throwing a scowl his way, you try to ignore his sarcasm but he persists.

“No, hey. My phones away, let’s talk! No? Ok, hey, Dil. How was your day?!” Without saying a word, your son gets up and runs to his bedroom. “Well that’s great.”

“What do you expect when you talk to him like that? Why is it so hard for you to be here and present with your family?”, you hiss.

“What the fuck do you want from me, Y/N?! Do you want this fucking roof over your goddamn heads?! That cost money, baby! Whatever. I’m fucking done with this conversation.”

Your jaw tightens as you listen to him get up, grab his jacket, and slam the front door as he leaves.

***

“Dylan? Weirdo, are you ok?” Your heart breaks when he doesn’t answer, pressing his little face further into his pillow. Sighing, you climb in beside him and run your fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry, baby. Daddy didn’t mean to snap at you like that.”

Rolling over, he wraps his arms around you and you rest your head on his as you hold him tightly.

“Daddy’s always angry.”

“But never at you, Dylan. He loves you so much.”

“And you?”

“Does daddy love me? Yeah, honey, of course.”

“Den why he so mad all da time?”

You genuinely had no idea how to answer that question as you kissed his forehead. Your brain began to wonder as you thought about what would be best. Divorce popped in occasionally but you immediately shook away the notion. You and Charlie both lost your dads. You didn’t want that for him.

You can make this work. Maybe there’s something you could do to get the man you fell in love with back so the three of you could be happy.

***

Dylan excitedly runs in your direction but Aurora and James cut his parents off as they get to him first. The boy effortlessly picks them up with each arm and Steve grins as he takes a picture.

“I’m free!”

“We’re so proud of you, babe.”, Vivian praises as she kisses his cheek before Brody does the same making your son laugh.

“Very proud.”, Wayne smiles, thrown off when Dylan places his siblings down and gives the man a hug. Eddie chuckles through his teeth as his uncle lightly smacks his chest before wrapping his arms around the boy.

“How dare you make me feel old.”, Kierra playfully scolds as she kisses his face.

“A high school graduate and on your first go around!”, the metalhead jokes as he leans in for a hug. “You’re amazing, kid.”

“I guess I can’t call you ‘little man’ anymore.”, Steve says as he takes the boy in his arms.

“You still can and you can never stop calling me ‘weirdo’.”, Dylan replies gesturing towards you.

“You’re always going to be my little weirdo.”

He softly smiles as he bends to embrace you allowing you to circle your arms around his neck as he lifts you off your feet.

“I love you, mom. Thank you for everything.”

#############

A seven-year-old Dylan clings to your neck as you hold him to you against the wall of the pool at the apartment complex. Eddie insisted he could beat Steve in a race and the former swimmer promptly took the challenge.

“1! 2! 3! GO!”, your son shouted, giggling as both men splashed water everywhere as they took off.

“I told you!”, Steve gloated as he beat the metalhead effortlessly. “You went to school with me. You should have known better.”

Eddie pants as he finally reaches the wall beside you.

“Jesus, I need to stop smoking.”

You and Dylan laugh at him as the other boy pulls his body out of the pool and leans down to take the small boy from you.

“I’m starving. Munson is buying dinner since he sucks—lost—I mean lost.”

Scowling his way, the long-haired man helps you out of the water and wraps a towel around your body.

When you four make it back to the apartment, Steve sighs as he realizes he has a couple of missed calls.

“It’s from the store. I just need one minute.”

Dylan’s head hangs as he wraps his towel tighter around him and heads for his bedroom to change. Grabbing his arm, you stop him and move some of the hair that had stuck to his forehead.

“Hey Keith, what’s going on?...You need me to come in…” Eddie’s chocolate eyes watch both of you intensely as you cup your son’s face in your hands. “Ok, well, I’m not free today but if you call Robin she can help today and I can come in tomorrow.”

Your son’s head shot up to look towards Steve as he gave his boss a few more uh huhs before finally turning around and throwing his phone back down on your couch.

“What?”, he asked when he realized you three were watching him. “What’s wrong, little man? Everything ok?”

“Y-You…you don’t have to leave?”

“No? I’m spending the day with you, bud. Why would I even want to leave?”, he chuckled a bit confused. Tears leave the small boy’s eyes as he runs and practically tackles Steve’s legs.

“Thank you.”

“Hey. Go change so you can come back and tell Eddie what you want him to buy you.”, you instructed as you tickle his neck with your finger.

As soon as he disappears, you tackle your arms around his waist and lean your head on his chest.

“Thank you.”

“I’m not quite sure what I did but you’re both welcome.”

Tilting back, you softly press your lips to his.

“Thank you for being you.”

***

After putting Aurora to bed, you stepped outside on to your back porch where Eddie was already into his second cigarette with a beer in his hand. As you sat beside him on the steps, you scanned him over truly taking in how much he had changed in almost 12 years. He looked incredibly handsome in his button up short sleeve shirt and tie with black slacks that Steve insisted he wear to look more formal.

He had his hair pulled back for the ceremony but now it was down around his shoulders. As he brought the cigarette to this lips you couldn’t help but admire his wedding band that blended in perfectly with his other rings.

Visually, he still more or less looked the same with a few new signs of aging in his face and more laugh lines around his eyes but what really shifted was his demeanor. While Eddie always had an air of confidence, he seemed to carry it differently now that he was older. Most of the burdens he held before he no longer had because he was finally genuinely happy. He had everything he could have ever asked for and more.

Silently, he handed you his half-finished cigarette that you eagerly sucked on as he took a sip from the bottle in his hand.

“What are you thinking about?”, you ask as you lean against the rail beside you.

“You.”, he smiles. “Steve. Dylan. Ro. James. My family.”

“Anything in particular?”

His lips pout out slightly as he shakes his head and continues looking off towards the lake.

“When I caught Charlie and Vivian, I remember going off on him and then running out the door. I felt so lost and confused. I didn’t know where to go because I knew if I went home my mom would make me feel bad. I was too embarrassed at the time to go to Kierra’s and I didn’t have any friends I felt comfortable with. I pulled over on the side of the road and sobbed.”

Eddie’s hand reaches out to intertwine with yours making you smile as you glance in the distance was well. You both listened as shoes scooted along the wood, sliding over a chair as Steve exhaled taking a seat. The metalhead lifted his bottle in the air that the other man took and chugged back the remaining liquid.

“If you had told me then that I would be here in this big house where my two other kids are sleeping after seeing Dylan graduate high school and with two men who are not only fabulous husbands and partners but phenomenal dads to a little boy… who just wanted to be appreciated for who he was…”

The metalhead wiped his eyes as the tears began to flow from them both.

“I know…you said once that its easier for me to hold it all in when it comes to him but… Y/N, when his principal said ‘Dylan Munson-Harrington’… it all just hit me. All the memories and the fact that he’s leaving in a week. I mean this kid has been with us since the beginning.”

“Since day one.”, Steve added. “Shit. If you had told us the night before that tomorrow I would open the door to a little boy that would change everything… Y/N, growing up the thought of being a dad scared me but it always felt easy with him.”

“He always wanted to learn and asked me constantly to show him how to play my guitar.”, Eddie laughed. “I remember one of our first conversations was when we came over and I hooked up the video game system. I asked him what kind of games he liked and he just lit up, sweetheart. When he told me Charlie never liked the things he did or played with him he made me think of my dad. Allen was the same way and I didn’t want that for him.”

“And that’s just the beginning. Don’t even get me started on all the other feelings about how he’ll be the first Munson to go to school and get a degree.”, Eddie laughed as he leaned back against Steve’s leg. “I’m so proud of him but I’m really going to fucking miss him.”

“Me to.”

“Me to.”, you add. “Thank you for being you.”

##################

“Dad? Can I ask you something?”, a twelve-year-old Dylan inquires as Eddie starts to walk past his door after putting his sister to bed.

“Yeah, kid. What’s up?”

“How did you ask a girl out when you were my age?”

“Oof. I had all the girls lined up around the block to date me! Oh, wait, that was Steven.”, he teased making his son laugh. “When I was your age I had this huge crush on a girl in my English class. She was one of the popular kids and I was terrified to say anything. But one day we got paired up for a project and I made her laugh. Just started acting like a total dork and she loved it.”

“So…be funny?”

“I mean, there’s a bit more to it but…” Eddie pauses as he starts to panic, fearful he’s giving the boy the worst advice. “Look, Dylan, my dad wisdom to you? Just be yourself. Steve and I had an ex that was so uptight. She hated that I ‘couldn’t be serious.’ Truth was she didn’t like me for me. Your mom on the other hand loves my nerdy ass and my sense of humor.”

Dylan beams as his dad pulls him in for a hug.

“Can I find out who this girl is? I swear I won’t tell Y/N.”

“It’s, um, I kind of…really like…Daisy.”

Eddie tries to contain his giddiness at his son’s admission. Steve had called it a long time ago and you had mentioned how cute he seemed to get every time Daisy would come over.

“Dude, come on. She definitely likes you for you. I see you make her laugh all the time and listen to her when she seems upset. You offered to help her with school. You’re a good dude.”

“But what if she only wants to be friends?”

“Then that’s ok to and you know no matter what the three of us will be here with pizza and beer to cure your heartache.”

“Mom won’t let you give me beer!”, Dylan chuckles.

“Meh, you’re right. Ok, Steve and I will sneak you into the bar then.”

***

It was so soft you barely felt it at first, both their lips kissing and sucking on either side of your neck. When your eyes fluttered open, you took in the scene before you. Eddie and Steve were pressed against your sides, their arms thrown over your body as palms rubbed along your tummy and chest. There was a neediness behind their subtle movements that had you whimpering as you arched your head back to allow them more access as their mouths opened wider to run their tongues along your skin.

Steve was the first to move, placing his body on top of yours and pulling down his boxers enough to free his cock. As he leaned back on his heels to remove his shirt, the metalhead’s lips mingled with your own, his hand cupping your cheek to keep you facing him. After wrapping your legs around his waist, the other man guided himself into your entrance and Eddie mewled as you heavily exhaled at the feeling.

Steve’s large, soft hand traveled to your breasts, kneading your tits as he rolled his hips at steady pace. When his palm finds your throat, his eyes meet yours and you nod earnestly granting him permission before lightly squeezing it between his fingers.

Jumping to the side, Eddie hastily removes his clothes, stroking his cock at the sight of you both as he crawls back in beside you. Opening your mouth, now desperate to taste him, he accepts your invitation, moaning loudly as your tongue plays with his tip and your head bobs.

Slanting his lower half till he was hovering just above you, Steve thrusts into you harder and faster as his own tongue extends out to help you lick his husband’s length. After readjusting himself, the metalhead clung to the other man’s hair as he pumped his dick down his throat causing him to slightly gag and constrict around him while you clung to Steve’s shoulders smothering your moans against his skin.

It was almost too much as your pussy quivered around him and you came, his palm immediately coming to cover your mouth as he fucked you through your high. Eddie laid back down on his side, tilting his head to kiss the lips of the man he loved as he grunted and his warm release filled you up.

Taking you in his arms, the long-haired boy maneuvered you around until you were on top of him with your back against his chest. You couldn’t help but shiver against his body as he ran his leaking tip through your dripping folds, grazing your clit and making you whine.

As soon as his cock entered you, he set an animalistic pace as his dick slammed into your sensitive spot repeatedly.

“Oh, fu--!”

Eddie’s ring covered hand cut you off, covering your mouth as you started to scream at the sudden feeling of Steve’s tongue flicking your bundle of nerves. Your own hand rested on his as your fingers intertwined with the one he had gripping your stomach.

The way he groaned in your ear, you knew the pretty boy was altering between you and Eddie as he played with your nub and sucked on the other man’s balls. It drove him wild as he pushed against your back, forcing you to sit up as he grabbed both sides of your hips and guided your movements.

Steve’s fingers slid into your mouth, hoping to silence you as he continued pleasuring you both. As you neared your climax, it wasn’t enough and Eddie flipped you over so you could shove your face into the pillow and shout as you fell over the ledge. Lying flat against your back, he held your hands as his forehead leaned against your shoulder warming your skin as he panted.

Grunts filled your ears and with a few more rough thrusts, he emptied inside of you.

You laid there quietly until Steve motioned for you both to follow and guided you two in the shower with him. You allowed them to clean you as you watched them carefully, Eddie closing his eyes as he leaned his head back under the hot water and Steve sighing as he pressed his back against the cold tile.

“I’m proud of you two.” Their heads lifted to look at you as you continued. “He may be the first Munson to go to college but he learned that hard work ethic for you, Eddie. You own your own store and work hard to take care of everyone not just us. Steve, you showed him he could achieve anything he wanted by following your dream and becoming a teacher.”

“My son was always a good kid but because of you two he’s happy. I’m going to miss him but I’m not worried about his future because of everything you both have done for him. I’ll never be able to thank you properly…”

As the tears start to flow arms wrap around you from behind and Steve promptly tugs you both forward as he presses your head to his chest.

“I would hold that thought…we still have two kids left to fuck up.”

You and the man in front of you giggle at Eddie’s comment as the heavy air breaks and you shake your head as you turn around to give him a big hug.

#############

A six-year-old Dylan smiles up at you from his place in bed as he waits for you to tuck him in.

A couple of nights ago, Eddie and Steve had come over to spend time with him when his father bailed and that night you three were intimate in their apartment after he had gone to bed. It had been two days since you saw them and you couldn’t stop thinking about them.

“Mommy? When are we going to hang out wit-wit Eddie and Steve again?”

Softly grinning, you climbed in beside him and he promptly curled up at your side.

“You liked spending time with them?”

“Yeah! Mom, Eddie is-is-is so funny and Steve said he would play basketball wit me. I love them!”

“Oh my goodness!”, you tease as you pull him close and kiss the top of his head. “Yeah, they were fun to hang out with and they told me that you’re an amazing kid.”

He blushes as you smile, turning off his little lamp as you continue to run your fingers through his hair.

“Do you like hanging out wit dem?”

“Yeah, baby, I did.”

“Good cause…you seem…different…around dem…”

“Different how, weirdo?”

“Happy.”

***

James and Aurora clung to Dylan’s neck as their dads finished putting the last remaining boxes in the U-Haul.

“Guys, I’m not going away forever and you know I’ll call you both every day.”

“You promise you’ll come home for Christmas and my birthday?”

“Of course, Ro. Unless you get a boyfriend you’d rather hang out with.”

“I didn’t hear that.”, Steve teases making them laugh.

“Love you, bra-der.”

“I love you to, kid.”

“Ok, guys we have to let Dylan go.” Your voice cracked as you lightly pulled on your daughter’s curls. “Rara, why don’t you and James go watch some TV and I will make you guys lunch in a minute, ok?”

After giving them one last kiss, he drops them to their feet and both kids wave before running inside the house. He grins down at you as you wrap your arms around him and he holds you tightly.

“I love you so much.”

“I love you to, mom.”

The sound of the truck clanging shut pulled you both apart as you kissed his cheek and he playfully whined as he lightly pushed you. Both men shuffled slowly around the corner as they waited for their turn to say goodbye.

Smiling their way, you scooted towards the porch and sat on the steps so they could be alone.

“So, let us know when you get there and that you and Daisy are safe.”

“And if you need anything and I mean anything just give us a call and we’ll fly right over no questions asked.”, Eddie added making Dylan grin.

“I know you would and that’s why you’re my dads.”, he replied. “I don’t remember a whole lot from their marriage but I do remember my mom was always trying to keep it together. Always carrying this burden that she thought I couldn’t see. The first time I ever saw her genuinely smile was that first time you two came over.”

“Daisy and I have been talking these past couple of weeks and she feels bad about leaving her mom here with her dad. It wasn’t until she said it that I realized, I don’t have that problem because I know she’s safe with you.”

“Jesus Christ, kid.”, Eddie chuckled as he tried to hide the tears that had fallen. “Still the fucking kid spy for the CIA or some shit.” Everyone laughed including you even though you couldn’t hear their conversation. “You’ve always been really smart and so fucking kind. I know you always used to say how much you loved that we listened to you and cared about things you were into but you have no idea how much it meant to me when you did that for me. The way you listened to me babble about D & D and guitar—”

“Hey, now, the guitar is awesome.”

“Yeah it is.”, the metalhead grins. “What I’m trying to say is I was always afraid of becoming Allen but you taught me that as a father and a man I could be like Wayne… I love you, kid, and I’m so fucking proud of you.”

He leans in to give his son a hug and you smile as you picture the small kid that played video games with him 24/7. The young boy that ran into Eddie’s arms after his talent show where he had taught him to play the guitar. The little boy who in his most terrifying moment called the metalhead first to come help him because he felt safe with him.

“I know I can be a bit overprotective but…”, Steve laughed breathily as they beamed at him. “…Like Ed said, you were such a good kid and I hated, fucking hated, when Charlie would hurt you. No one ever stood up for me when I was growing up. I was always alone in our big house and anytime my dad was an asshole I just kind of absorbed it. I didn’t want that for you…any of you three. I knew I wanted my kids to have a happy home where they felt safe coming to me. Dylan, you were my son before you even started calling me dad. Even if you had decided to keep your last name and kept calling him dad, you would still be our son. I love you to, little man.”

As they embrace and your oldest begins to cry against his shoulder, you see the six-year-old that clung to Steve when he was in the hospital sick with a fever. The small boy who stood down an adult like Mr. Harrington and scolded him for being rude to “his daddy”. The young man who held him tightly as his own biological parent broke his heart and he listened to the man he now saw as his father defend and protect him.

“Ok, ok. Come on. You have to go. Daisy is waiting for you.” Steve lifts the boys head and wipes his tears with his thumbs as they both grin at him comfortingly. “And you’re right by the way. She is safe with us. Nothing bad is going to happen to Y/N or your siblings, ok?”

Nodding, he gives you one final wave as he hops into the truck and slowly begins driving down the road.

“Are you ok?”, you ask as you come up behind them.

“Yeah, sweetheart. You?”

“I’m sure I will be.”

“Yeah…”, Eddie agrees as he pulls your back against his chest and rests his head on your shoulder. “At least I get my guitar room back.”

“Oh really?!”, Steve shouts as the metalhead takes your hand and the three of you head towards your front door. “I thought we all agree I could have an office.”

“Yes, Steven, because grading papers requires a whole room for you.”

“Eddie, stop it.”, you giggle as you push up on your toes to kiss their lips.

##################

@adequate-superstar @kalinaselennespeaks @strangerfreak

@dad-steddie @manda-panda-monium @alligator-person

@decadentwombatmiracle @katie-tibo @marsupiooo

@local-stoner-bitch @steamystrangerfics @lunatictardis

@adaydreamaway08 @hazydespair @actuallyspencerreid

@moviefreak1205 @waylandmorgernsternherondal-blog

@kik51199 @strngrlytn @idkidknemore @damon-loves-pie

@k-k0129 @micheledawn1975 @eddie86baby

@justmeandmymeanderingthoughts @3rriberri

@sashaphantomhive @chelebelletx @big-ope-vibes

@munsonzzgf @munsonmoonshine86 @dashingdeb16 @thwippyparker

#steddie x reader #steddie fluff #steddie smut #steddie fanfiction #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie fanfic #eddie stranger things #steve fanfic #steve smut #steve stranger things #joe keery #joseph quinn #stranger things #fan fiction

160 notes · View notes

depravitycentral · 1 year ago

Text

Yandere! Uvogin General Profile

Yandere! Uvogin x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, violence, mentions of non-con, stalking, theft, mentions of masturbation, mentions of assault, reader is referred to as tiny and small but let's be honest everyone is small compared to Uvogin, brief neglect/being ignored, mentions of Stockholm Syndrome, manipulation, threats, isolation, Uvo is a bastard and is somehow charming even though he's obsessed with you, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 12K

DARLING PROFILE

Easily flustered

In many ways, Uvogin desires a darling who is the opposite of him.

He likes the idea of a darling who is more innocent, and while this doesn’t have to manifest as being literally naïve or just not being a mass murderer like him, he finds it endearing.

There’s just something about having a darling who is a little softer, a little weaker, a little cuter that just makes him smug.

He likes thinking that his darling is just so damn cute, and he isn’t afraid to tell them as much; he’s teasing them constantly, every other word slipping past his lips a mixture of flirtations and cheeky compliments, and the minute his darling looks bashful or flustered?

Well, it’ll only embarrass them more when he starts laughing, enjoying the sight of them all frustrated and embarrassed, a big hand coming down to playfully scruff up their hair.

He’ll tell them that they’re cute, that he likes their smile, that they’re probably the prettiest woman he’s even seen, and the moment they freeze up a bit, their eyes going slightly wide before scowling and trying to hide how flattered they are, he’s only falling harder, loving the way they try to fight the effect he has on them.

And really, that’s what it comes down to – he likes to see the way their body betrays them, his compliments getting a rise out of them even when he’s got them stolen away in his modest apartment, touting all this big declarations of hatred towards him.

(Yet they fall apart at a simple compliment of their tummy or thighs – he knows these are spots of insecurities, and is it dirty to be playing the card of focusing on the area he knows his darling is sensitive about? Maybe, but he’s never exactly been ‘clean’.)

He just loves the idea of his cute little darling being a flustered mess with just a few touches and words, and he’s capitalizing on this personality trait as often as he can get away with – smacking their ass or kissing their knuckles or winking at them or even just telling them in that nonchalant voice that they look hot as hell in his clothes.

They’re just endearing, and he’s always been honest – so don’t get too upset when he speaks his mind.

Creative

There’s something about a darling with a hobby that he likes.

Maybe it’s the product of seeming they become genuinely passionate about something they love, or perhaps it’s simply just seeing them concentrate and put energy into creating something.

Uvogin doesn’t know, but regardless his ideal darling has some sort of creative hobby that he’s more than willing to help nurture. It can be anything, really – perhaps they draw or paint, or maybe they write or cook. Maybe they knit or sew, or perhaps they sing or play an instrument.

It doesn’t really matter what the hobby is – Uvogin just likes that his darling has an outlet for letting out all their energy, and he’s more than willing to sit through any kind of performances or viewings or anything at all where his darling can show off all their hard work.

He’s already spoiling his darling once they’ve been kidnapped, but he’s stealing supplies that pertain to his darling’s favorite hobbies, making sure they have a lifetime supply of paints or yarn or paper or cloth or anything their little heart desires.

He likes to see them smile, to watch them get all starry eyed and passionate, and often he'll simply plop down and watch them go at it, staring at them as they indulge in their hobby.

He'll even be willing to learn if his darling is willing to teach them – having massive hands makes most creative pursuits difficult, but he likes the way his darling’s hands cover his own as they teach him how to make the brush strokes or press down on piano keys, the skin soft and warm and perfect against his own.

He just likes the attention of it, the idea that they’re sharing something intimate and personal with him, and it only makes his possessiveness flare up, satisfaction swimming through him because obviously his darling is warming up to him, because why else would they spend so much time with him, teaching him and being patient as he purposefully messes up just to get them to show him again, to touch him again?

Snarky

Uvogin likes the idea of a darling who can dish it out back at him. He’s teasing by nature, always throwing quips and little one-liners at his darling, and the idea of his darling returning this teasing energy or even initiating it makes him feel a little weak in the knees, both impressed and aroused by their quick thinking and wit.

There’s just something attractive about being put in his place, and although the power dynamic between him and his darling is unquestionably in his favor, there’s something sweet about pretending that they have any semblance of control in the relationship.

He likes the idea of having a more ‘normal’ relationship with his darling, and the tendency they have to throw little comments at him help to make the relationship feel less like captor and captee, less like lovesick freak and victim, and more like two people hopelessly in love, enjoying one another’s company and never, ever leaving each other.

Of course, this trait can be pushed too far – Uvogin doesn’t want someone mean. There’s a fine line between teasing and rudeness, and he wants his darling to perhaps occasionally toe the line, but be firmly on the side of the former. He’s not interested in being critiqued or judged – it should be fun hearted, light, loving, even if he pulls information out of the blue that he really, really shouldn’t know.

(Like their banking information, or their biggest insecurities, or anything at all, really.)

He just wants someone he can banter with, his booming laugh filling the room when his darling catches him off guard with something funny and unexpected, and he’ll return the favor tenfold.

(And if he can’t think of a witty enough retort, he’ll just push them over the nearest surface, rip off those pesky shorts, and bury his face against their cunt until they’re crying and sobbing his name – the best comeback of all, he’d argue.)

Compassionate

Because he wants someone opposite of himself in many ways, a darling who is more compassionate and considerate of others is oddly attractive to him.

He can’t quite pinpoint why – he’s always believed it’s a sign of weakness to be so attentive to the needs and desires of others, but there’s something different about it when it’s his darling who’s stopping and worrying about how others feel.

It’s annoying, he’ll admit, because it stirs up his jealousy; why should his darling care what other people think and feel?

All that really matters is him – he’s all they need, so why are they wasting time on thinking of how someone on the news must be scared and all shaken up because they got robbed last night?

(It wasn’t even a real, meaningful robbery – just some low level thugs looking to make a quick buck, so why are they sympathizing with the woman crying on the TV about how she can’t afford rent now because the robbers stole her stashed away cash?)

Why do they waste precious energy into worrying about how strangers on the bus are feeling when they’re crying or clearly upset, their expressions clear as day as they stare down at their phone or bite their wobbling lips?

He thinks it’s a waste of his darling’s time, frankly, and instead would prefer all of this energy and care to become channeled towards him. He wants to take up every free thought his darling has, to be constantly on their mind as they are his, and he gets equal parts angry and jealous when there’s someone or something else taking up the precious space he’s claimed as his own.

It’s frustrating, but it’s one of the things he likes most about his darling – they’re just so sweet and soft and pure, even, that it makes him feel like he’s ruining something angelic, like his darling is his own personal bit of heaven all for him him him.

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS

Possessive

Can he really be blamed?

He’s spent his adult life being a thief, stealing from anyone and everyone he’s told to, and Uvo sees absolutely no problem with it – you’re his, after all, and he’s never been especially great at sharing.

In his mind, you’re something that he’s claimed, something that is completely and utterly his, and once he’s set his mind to something, there is absolutely nothing anyone can do to sway him.

He’s stubborn to a fault, and when it comes to you this trait is only increased – so really, when he slowly becomes more and more controlling, more and more needy for your attention, don’t fight it too much.

Don’t be too surprised when his question of whether you’d like to hang out on Saturday morphs into you don’t have anything going on Saturday night, right? Shit, of course not, how could you when you’ll be spending time with me on my couch, eating pizza from that place downtown you love?

Don’t be too surprised when he starts gently but firmly grasping the phone out of your hand when someone calls you, dark eyes appraising the caller ID before he scoffs or rolls his eyes, muttering out a some people are real pieces of work, huh and quickly declining the call and blocking the number, all so quickly that you don’t even really get a chance to see who even called you.

Don’t be surprised when he cheekily asks you if you’re wearing matching a matching set of panties and bra, and if you answer an embarrassed yes and tell him about this date you’re going on that you’re nervous for, absolutely do not be surprised that the ceramic mug you’d given Uvo with a cup of steaming coffee in it is shattered in his grip, the grin on his face just a bit too tight, his form suddenly much larger than you consciously remember as he growls out a strained who’s this ‘date’, pretty girl?

Frankly, Uvogin has a talent at passing most things off as a joke at the start of his infatuation with you – he’s just charming and friendly enough that he can make most things seem funny, like teasing, like you’re just overreacting and blowing things out of proportion.

He’ll make you believe he joking when he pats your head and calls you his good girl, because that’s just a term of endearment he’s always called his friends – don’t let it make you uncomfortable, that’s just how he is!

(It most certainly is not – he’d never call Shizuku or Pakunoda or Machi that, too terrified for his own well being to ever have the guts to try something like that. Plus, he’d never want to – you’re his woman, and why should he give a shit about any other female on the planet? You’re all he’ll ever need, just as he’s all you should ever need.)

Surely you’re reading too much into it when he wraps his burly arms around you and spins you around in the air, his lips against your skin as he rambles praises of you, the hickey that forms later that night just coincidental to the location of his rather eager ‘talking’.

(He’s just a passionate man – he didn’t mean to give you a hickey. Don’t you know that he gets animated when he talks, his lips moving quickly, and it’s all just one big coincidence that it happened to be right over your jugular, a sensitive, intimate area reserved for lovers.)

You must be mistaken when he lunges at another man who dared to compliment your hairstyle, the oddly sincere threat of get your eyes off of her before I rip them out myself, you hear me making your blood run cold.

(He’ll tell you that he and the guy who’d complimented you were actually long time friends, and that this sort of threatening and joking around is typical for the two of them – he’ll shrug and tell you that boys will be boys, hoping you’ll take him at face value and not mention how the man seemed to be equally as shocked as you.)

It’s easy to let him talk you out of whatever doubts about him you have, his insistence that he was just playing around, trying to get a rise out of you convincing you much easier than it should.

And really, your willingness to believe him can stem from your own naivety, but if you’re being really honest you know there’s some selfish part of you that almost likes the attention Uvo gives you, the way he’s always touching you and smiling at you, making you feel precious and valued and wanted. You’ve just never felt so wholly seen and understood, almost as if he has this innate ability to understand you, as if you’re connected in some deeper way.

(He always seems to just know things about you, always guessing your favorite things correctly, and if he didn’t have such a bright smile and convincing laugh, you’d almost be unnerved and afraid of how eerily accurate his guesses are. Stalking is the answer, of course, but it’s best that you remain in the dark about that until the time is right.)

It’s a slippery slope though, because as soon as Uvogin realizes that you’re sweeping things under the rug, he’ll get more and more aggressive with his possessiveness, feeling more and more justified as he threatens and fights others, his passing remarks about you being his becoming more specific and explicit, his jokes about just whisking you away one day becoming more and more frequent, more and more detailed and well thought out and terrifying.

He’ll push the boundaries, but the minute he senses he may have crossed the line, there’s that familiar laughing man you think you know, that smile and calming voice telling you that you’ve got it all wrong sweetcheeks, I’m just giving you a good time, of course I don’t own you – I don’t have enough money to buy something so gorgeous!

It’ll work, frankly, until you suddenly realize that you haven’t seen or talked to another person aside from Uvogin in over a month, his face and voice all you’re met with as the days fly by, other people becoming more and more scarce as he slowly begins taking over your life.

Everything with him is a slow process, a gentle yet unstoppable path under which Uvogin will slowly become more and more obsessed, and less and less willing to simply share.

After all, being a thief has its perks – he’s just never had to work so hard for something so easy to simply steal away.

Protective

Uvo is extremely aware of his own strength; it’s a point of pride after all, being the physically strongest member of the Troupe. His muscles are beyond noticeable, bulging and standing proudly even when he’s relaxed, even when his arms are covered with layers of fabric.

He’s just huge, giant and powerful, and you’re just not.

You’re so very small compared to him – small and sweet and fucking adorable, so completely opposite of himself.

And to Uvo, it’s incredibly endearing but also incredibly nerve wracking, because what if he one day slips up and hugs you too tight, grabs your wrist too strongly, or accidentally breaks a limb?

The idea of hurting you is something that makes him physically ill, his stomach churning in vile knots while a cold sweat breaks out as his hairline, if only because the idea of you crying, bruised or bleeding and staring at him like he’s some sort of monster would be enough to break him.

He wants you to love him, not to fear him. You’re the one person on this planet that he wants to look at him with adoration and reverence, like he’s some sort of god, just as he looks at you. And if he were to injure you, to accidentally go too far and leave a bruise or scar or break something?

He would never forgive himself, and he’s sure you’d never forgive him – and that would simply be unacceptable, a huge setback in the love he’s trying to very hard to create between the two of you.

He doesn’t want to hurt you on any level, and as a result he’s developed the habit of treating you as if you were made of glass, a lovely porcelain doll that’s his job to protect and keep pristine.

It doesn’t matter if you’re a skilled nen user yourself or whether you’ve never even punched someone before – Uvo will be keeping his place at your side, ready to step in at a moment’s notice in the case of anything or anyone trying to harm you, to which he’ll ruthlessly beat down and murder because no one fucking touches you.

He will be carrying you around your ‘shared’ home, wrapping you up in his arms and snuggling your face into his neck while he brings you from the bedroom to the couch for a movie marathon of those cheesy sports action films he seems to love.

He will be forcing you to sit still while he has Machi do a quick check up on you every few weeks, making sure that you’re healthy – though he never leaves the room, always hovering and staring at you, making sure Machi doesn’t get too comfortable with you.

(And no, the pink haired woman will be absolutely no help to you to escape – while she and Uvo aren’t particularly close, she’s still happy to see her troupemate in love, happy to see that he himself is happy, and surely he isn’t treating you badly if you come up perfectly healthy and bruise free every checkup, right? Machi honestly won’t even talk to you much – simple, curt answers to your questions, and not a single smile in sight. You’ll almost prefer talking to your kidnapper over her as time goes on.)

He wants you to be completely safe and healthy, and while he isn’t the best at cooking or any of the domestic fields he knows of, he still tries his best – expect a homecooked meal a few nights in months where he’s home, a sizzling breakfast that looks just a bit too charred on mornings when he’s spent hours staring at the sun softly glowing on your face.

The food might be overcooked, bland and a bit limp, but at the grin on his face and the way he brings the spoon up to your lips and tells you to open that mouth babe, I spent two hours making this casserole – wanna see you eat every last piece, it’s more than obvious that he’s proud, that he’s chosen foods high in proteins and vitamins, anything to make you healthy and stronger.

At first, his overbearing concern for your wellbeing won’t be too extreme – he doesn’t want to scare you off after all, and he’s able to keep most of the urges at bay aside from the occasional check over your body while you’re asleep.

He can sate himself by rationalizing that you’re with him now, that you’re safe and accounted for, that he was with you all day so there’s no way you somehow hurt yourself without him knowing, right?

And it works for a while, his paranoia growing stronger by the day but still just barely able to be quelled by this logic.

Except, as time goes on, Uvo just can’t help it – his feelings for you are too strong, too intense and overpowering to hold back, and soon he gives up completely. It’s his job to protect you, right?

He’s your lover, your man, and what sort of partner would he be if he isn’t keeping his you safe, if he’s not making sure that you’re adequately provided for, if he’s not diligently checking you over himself, analyzing every inch of your body to make sure you haven’t grown sick or somehow managed to scrape yourself without him knowing.

After all, you’re his cute little woman, his sweet baby that he’d kill everyone and everything for – is it so wrong to want to protect you, the literal light of his life?

Clingy

Uvogin has a massive problem when it comes to allotting his time with you in reasonable quantities. He really, really likes to spend time with you – you’re the best part of his day, the reason (aside from the thrill of combat and the Troupe) that he’s still living, that he still gets up every day.

You get his heart pumping in something other than adrenaline and pleasure when he’s beating someone senseless, and Uvogin’s never been good at denying himself pleasure. Being around you is like a shot of serotonin, his entire mood brightening no matter what happened previously, this ache in his chest quelling because you’re here now, right beside him where you belong.

He’s genuinely attached to you – you’re perfect in his eyes, his lovely little woman that he wants to love and spoil, and Uvogin quickly develops the desire to spend as much time with you as he possibly can.

You’re just so sweet and pretty and adorable, and fuck you make him so happy, so how can he possibly hold himself back from wanting to spend every second of the day with you?

How can he possibly be blamed for wanting to see your smile as often as he can, hear your chiming, lovely laugh, feel your soft hands against the hard planes of his muscles as often as he can?

Uvogin quickly becomes attached to you, thoughts of you taking up his mind, your face dancing behind his eyelids as your gorgeous eyes sparkle, your hair ruffled by the breeze as you laugh and reach out for his hand, telling him in that lovely sing-song voice of yours to come on, I want to see the fireworks before they end once he takes you on all those adorable, sweet dates he knows you’re dreaming of.

He’s almost a closeted romantic in that sense, and while he’s never really daydreamed about big, grand gestures between partners before, there’s just something about you that makes him want to buy dozens of bouquets of flowers, steal the most expensive, precious jewelry, wine and dine you until you’re giggling and leaning onto him for support.

That is to say, Uvogin is a complete and utter sap for you.

He wants to see you smile and look at him, to give him your attention and need him like he needs you, to the point where he’s not making any attempts to hide it.

He’s not trying to be discreet when he wraps an arm around your waist and plants a loud, dramatic kiss against the crown of your head; no, he wants you to hear it, to feel the weight of his arm around you and his lips against your skin, if only because you get so cute when you’re all flustered, when you shrink in on yourself and smack his stomach, hissing a quit it, that’s so embarrassing!

He’s not trying to be subtle when he calls your name from several meters away, waving a hand and sending you a smirk as he begins a loud, one sided conversation with you, hoping to draw as much attention to himself as possible so that you’ll be looking at him and only him, even if he gets chewed out by you later for causing such a spectacle in public.

(Not that he cares – not only does he not give a single shit what other people think, there’s something so sexy about the way you huff and yell, waving your arms around and sounding so exasperated, your voice high and irritated and saying his name…)

Long story short, Uvogin doesn’t make a single attempt to hide the way he’s always desperate to talk to you, to have your eyes on him, to just be with him, to the point where you’ll probably know that he holds romantic intentions towards you fairly early on – with how touchy he is and the way he’s always seeming to just be there when you’re in town, or the way he always shows up at your apartment, holding takeout from your favorite restaurant and giving you those smoldering eyes you just can’t say no to.

(And he is touchy – he’s always pressing his fingertips against your waist, the small of your back, your shoulder, tucking your hair behind your ear, tracing your collarbone or lips, or even, when he gets a bit bolder, dipping down to playfully smack your ass.)

You’ll know, and Uvogin knows you’ll know – that’s part of the plan after all, because while he’s a mass murderer and criminal that somehow has decided he wants you for his own no matter the consequences, he still would prefer for you to be in love with him, to enjoy your time spent with him and genuinely want him, and don’t women love men who show they care?

He won’t give you any mixed messages, but the trade off is that Uvogin will want every possible second of your time, and there won’t be a single thing that happens in your life that the taller man isn’t aware of – how could he not be, with your phone tapped, and all the trackers, cameras, and audio devices Shalnark helped provide him with?

Uvogin wants to know every bit of your business, to be invested and participating in every aspect of your life, and he will – whether you know it or not, he’ll always be there.

Even once he’s stolen you away, he’ll be hovering and touchy, hugging you and teasing you, that grin on his face trying to pretend that you’re happy, that you’re in love with him, that you’re right where you fucking belong.

But in the event that he’s taken away from you, forced to spend periods of time where he can’t be your shadow for the day, Uvogin resorts to other measures so as not to lose his mind from not getting to smell your scent or feel your skin or hear your voice.

That is, he begins collecting items of yours – small things, mostly, things he’s sure you won’t miss to terribly. He’s snatching away old hair ties of yours, right on the verge of snapping, still containing a few strands of your hair that he cherishes and sometimes idly plays with when he’s forced to wait for other members of the Troupe to arrive at meeting locations.

He’s got an old water bottle or two of yours that you think you accidentally misplaced while you were out, but really he stole it right from under your nose, having watched your pretty lips wrap around the straw piece, suctioning and sucking and swallowing, the sight provocative enough to be the star of many, many fantasies he’s played out in detail late at night.

Even your old toothbrushes, misplaced socks or even a pillowcase you thought the washer ate up are in his collection – they’re just things to help him sate himself when he’s forced to be away from you, things to help him stay sane. It’s almost like he’s an addict going through withdrawal – he needs your things in order to not be horribly short tempered and difficult to work with, and in many ways, your belongings are the only things keeping him functional.

So don’t worry too much when you begin realizing just how many of your things are missing – unexplained items that you swear you had yesterday but seemed to have disappeared over the course of the night.

They’re not unaccounted for, so don’t worry – besides, when you’re eventually living under the same roof as him, you’ll be reunited with all your stolen belongings.

(Just don’t mention the mysterious stains the socks and pillowcase now have, nor the way the toothbrush looks to be in much, much worse shape than when you lost it – almost as if someone has been regularly using it.)

Uvogin just loves you, and is it so wrong for him to be so needy, clingy, desperate for you?

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

Patience isn’t really Uvogin’s strong suit.

His possessiveness makes jealousy something extremely common, and in general he’s overly sensitive to any possible interaction between you and another man. He absolutely cannot stand another person looking at you, watching their disgusting eyes rake over your figure, their tongues dancing out to flick over their lips, minds surely filled with vile, impure thoughts that make Uvogin clench his fist and work his jaw.

He hates seeing others try to talk to you, thinking they’re worth your precious time, and although he rationally knows that not every single man you encounter probably has nefarious intentions, he’s very, very quick to jump to conclusions.

And frankly, why shouldn’t he?

Those he holds dear are all criminals, and while not all of them see women as objects (though, some definitely do), he’s more than aware of how filthy and dehumanizing some men can be towards women. And with the amount of people you come into contact with every day, surely some percentage of them must want something more sinister.

And so, Uvogin assumes the role of your guardian angel – just with much, much darker intentions and methodology. He can’t stand the thought of someone else coming along and trying to seduce you, and while this anger doesn’t stem from any sort of insecurity in his own ability to woo you, it doesn’t matter.

The end result is still the same – he’s still regarding every man that comes within twenty feet of you as being suspicious, eyeing them critically and watching like a hawk to see if anything they do – anything at all – is a sign that they’re paying you unwanted attention.

He’s quickly noticing any signs; glances aimed at you that are longer than the cursory appraisal of one’s surroundings, any sort of shuffling or leaning closer to you, any move to look at your clothing or the title of the book you’re reading out of on the subway car.

He’s diligent, taking his job in protecting you extremely seriously, and he’s good at it, too – the moment something seems even slightly suspicious, he has no issue making his presence known.

Frankly, just the mere sight of him is enough to ward off most men, because who wouldn’t be terrified when an eight foot tall man with bulging muscles, an intense aura, and a deep frown settled onto his face approaches you?

He’s effective, and while it may seem like overkill to you, like he’s simply imagining up these interactions he claims could end poorly for you, you’ll just sigh and roll your eyes, writing off his strange behavior as typical Uvogin, always making jokes that he takes just a hair too far.

And this is good for him – it works in his favor to have you disregarding when his possessiveness flairs up. It irritates him that you aren’t appreciating all his efforts and the care he puts into making sure no men bother you, but it's better this way – you won’t get suspicious of him this way, nor will you start becoming afraid of him when you see all the missing persons reports that always seem to feature men he’s scared off.

It just makes things easier – and Uvogin won’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

It's a nice, sunny day out, and Uvogin can’t help but be glad he’d chosen this park to take you to.

It’s near your apartment, and although there’s a lot of people here (lots of children and parents, mostly, but the occasional runner or elderly person getting their exercise), you’d managed to snag the spot most secluded, between a grouping of trees. He’d been wanting today to be a nice date – parks weren’t his thing, but you seemed to enjoy the idea of a picnic, and just the thought of you smiling up at him and getting all excited and happy and adorable was all the motivation he needed to go out and steal some snacks and a cute, checkered picnic blanket.

He felt stupid setting it all up, biting at his thumb and furrowing his brows to make sure everything was perfectly placed, but the moment you showed up, it was all worth it. You’d been so happy – beaming at him and practically jumping up and down, eagerly tearing into the basket of goodies and plopping down onto the admittedly quite small blanket.

Sure, maybe you didn’t think this was a date, per se, but Uvogin has spent the whole time watching you, gaze flicking between your lips and your eyes as you ranted about the latest drama at your workplace.

He’d chimed in a few times, telling you with a serious voice that he’s told you to quit working at that shithole; you don’t get paid enough to deal with all that crap. Plus, you don’t need to work – I can support you, I promise. I’ll spoil you, make sure you’ve got everything you could ever want.

He'll pair that with a little wiggle of his bushy eyebrows, making you snort and laugh at his - you wrongly assume – joke. That gets a grin slipping across his lips, pride and satisfaction sitting heavy in his chest because you just look so damn cute when you’re laughing like that, and even more so when you’re laughing because of him. Everything is going well – you’re smiling between bites of food (all your favorite snacks of course, down to the exact brands and flavors), and it’s not until you suddenly remember that you’d left something in your car that things begin going downhill.

It’s not a big deal, really – just a Chapstick that you offhandedly mention you wished you’d brought to the picnic with you, your lips feeling a little chapped from the crisp spring air.

(Immediately his eyes are darting to your lips, watching and having to force back a groan when he sees your tongue dart out to lick them, the sight nearly making him lose his composure.)

He’s standing up without giving you a second to think, squatting down and swiping your keys out of your pocket, sending you a wink and telling you to wait here, princess, I’ll be right back. You don’t even have time to protest and tell him it’s really no big deal (or tell him the location of said Chapstick in your car – useless information, really, because Uvogin knows exactly where you keep it, mostly because he’s used it before himself).

He can’t have been gone for longer than five minutes, spinning the keys on a finger and smiling despite himself, reliving your smile and laughter over and over in his mind, trying with all his might to keep himself from imagining the sight of you licking your lips lest he start imagining you licking other things, things that would be much bigger and harder and throbbing for you -

Uvogin notices the man that’s approached your secluded spot a bit too late, it seems. He’s already standing next to you, chatting with you and being much, much too close for comfort as far as Uvogin is concerned.

His fist tightens around the Chapstick clutched in his left hand, nearly hard enough to crack the plastic. His brows are pressed inward, dipping down, a scowl replacing his smile, his feet moving faster and faster to bring him back towards you and this stranger.

Once he’s within ear shot, he’s immediately calling out your name much too loudly, stopping and standing on your other side with a hand on his hip and his aura heavy, the grin on his face just slightly too tight.

The man blinks, beady brown eyes staring up at Uvogin owlishly, the size difference more than apparent as Uvogin stands up just a bit straighter, making sure he’s reaching his full height. He even flexes his muscles a bit, hoping to appear bigger, stronger, better, both to intimidate this man and to have you admiring his physique.

Can I help you?

His voice is curt, not the usual friendliness you’re used to, and immediately you’re frowning, opening your mouth to speak from your position still sitting on the ground, but the stranger beats you to it.

I, uh, I was just getting some directions. Sorry man, I didn’t mean to interrupt.

Uvogin’s eye twitches. Directions, huh? What are you, stupid?

You gasp at that, swatting out and smacking his calf lightly. He makes no acknowledgement of your action, but internally he hums at the attention and the slight bit of pained pleasure that shoots up his spine.

The man looks taken aback, offense and unease swimming in those eyes of his. Listen, I’ll just go, have a nice day.

He nods at Uvogin, and quickly nods at you too – making Uvogin’s grip on the Chapstick finally crack the plastic – and swivels on his heel, taking off in a poorly masked jog. Uvogin watches him the whole way, his gaze so heavy that the man feels it even from some fifty yards away.

Eventually you bring him out of his stupor, your arms crossed and an irritated look crossing your face. Uvogin sighs, finding your attitude a bit adorable, but also finding himself a bit preoccupied. Chasing down that guy later would be a pain, but he’d manage – it’d give him something to do, after all, because he could only spend so many nights a week standing in the doorway of your bedroom with his dark eyes trained on your sleeping body, his hand sometimes diligently stroking himself.

It'd be fun, too.

What the hell was that? You’re asking him, the honest to god pout you’re giving him making him chuckle and pat your head.

Just man stuff, you wouldn’t get it, babe.

His comment only seems to anger you further, and you snatch the bag of chips he’d picked up out of his hands. Nuh-uh, you don’t get to be a dick to someone who was genuinely just asking for help and then eat all the food. No fucking way.

At that he laughs aloud, plopping down onto the blanket (much closer to you than he was before), picking up another bag of chips and throwing a few into his mouth. Get off your high horse sweetie, must be hard for a shortie like you to get up there.

You send another smack to his leg and this time he pretends to be hurt, clutching at his wound and telling you to kiss it better, a comment you only dignify with a piece of bread being flung at his face.

The picnic goes well, uninterrupted for the rest of the afternoon, but that night Uvogin stays true to his word, stalking through the backstreets of the area he’d narrowed down the man’s apartment being in.

It didn’t matter that the man hadn’t made a move against you, or didn’t say anything to make you uncomfortable – he’d approached you, talked to you, looked at you, and that was enough to warrant a punishment so severe that he may not get to even apply his newly learned rule of absolutely no contact with you.

And as Uvogin sends punch after punch flying at the man’s face when he tackles him in the man’s own living room sometime around midnight, he can only laugh, the grin spread across his face maniacal at best.

Eventually the corpse is so bloody and mangled that Uvogin finds himself satisfied, getting up off the straddling position he’d forced the man into, wiping his hands – covered with red – off onto the man’s kitchen towel, before strolling out the front door, whistling a tune and already deciding on which path is the shortest to get back to your apartment.

You should be asleep by now – and you always look prettiest right when you’ve just slipped under, your pretty face all relaxed and sweet and soft, making him sigh and slightly laugh at himself because when the hell did he get so damn soft?

Since he met you, really, because you just have such an affect on him.

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

Truth be told, while there’s nothing more in the world that Uvogin wants than to have you secure at his side, in a little home for the two of you where you can be together, alone, and living a perfectly sweet domestic life, he’s hesitant to force this situation to happen.

In general, he isn’t an especially forceful or strict yandere – of course, he doesn’t like seeing other men around you, seeing you doing dangerous things or interacting with people he knows are bad for you, but Uvogin is more or less lenient when it comes to what you want, with a few harsh exceptions (anything involving your safety, or another man).

Your freedom is something that he wants to preserve as much as he can, if only because he firmly believes that once your basic rights are taken away, you’ll no longer be the woman he’s fallen in love with, the person he’s become so horribly and wonderfully obsessed with to a pathetic degree.

He’s scared you’ll become a shell of your former self, that the woman he’s so desperate to spend the rest of his waking moments with will disappear forever, and while Uvogin doesn’t have too stellar a moral compass, even he knows that erasing your past identity is a step too far – stalking you, stealing your clothing and small trinkets, threatening others and killing in your name may not be, but actually stealing you is something that doesn’t sit right with him.

That isn’t to say, however, that the possibility of him kidnapping you is non-existent – he’s hesitant, but not unwilling, and so the moment that your safety is threatened, that something sudden happens that he can’t control or hope to fix, Uvogin will feel backed into a corner, as if he has no option but to simply take you away, to bite the bullet and keep you locked up with him forever.

He doesn’t feel good about it, of course, if only because seeing you in tears and hearing you sob and curse at him makes a massive frown replace that normally bright grin, but it’s reality, and to Uvo your safety is his number one priority.

So, he’ll wince and grit his teeth as the damn Hunters tie the rope around your wrists, the nasty smirk across one’s face as they tell him they got his precious woman, what now, you murderer? You’ll come and save her, because you’re such a knight in shining armor? Fucking pathetic, you’ll rot for years for what you’ve done.

He’ll sigh and ball his fists as he quietly apologizes to you, your scared, teary eyes staring right at him as he kills each Hunter one by one, telling you to look away as blood sprays everywhere, as his fists get dirtier and dirtier.

He won’t like the way he gently knocks you out (or the way you scream through the gag placed in your mouth and squirm around, trying your hardest to get away from him), nor will he enjoy the way your weight feels so heavy in his heart as he slings you over his shoulder and carries you home, but he can’t stop now.

How can he, when you’ve been discovered by another man, touched by another man, threatened by someone?

Uvogin’s only human, and every human has a weakness – so congratulations, because your status as his only weakness just became the reason for your former life to end.

However, as a captor Uvogin is honestly not too terrible – he’s still clingy, always desiring your attention and trying to engage you in conversations or physical touch, but considering his status as an international criminal, he’s not too bad.

You’ll quickly learn that he has a massive penchant for spoiling you to no end; there’s nothing that he enjoys more than seeing you in awe or smiling, the way your lips tilt up and the apples of your cheeks grow round, how your eyes sparkle and you make the cutest expressions.

He strives to see you happy (preferably because of him, but he’s not too picky), so expect to be regularly gifted items with the intent of seeing your smile, of seeing you enjoy something that he provided you with.

You’ll get the nicest jewels – tones to match your eyes, colors that compliment your skin, matching sets to go with the gold rings on his fingers or the silver dog tags he occasionally wears.

You’ll get the prettiest dresses, custom designed by brand names, fitting your figure like a glove and never failing to make Uvogin’s breath hitch.

(More than once he’s stopped dead in his tracks upon seeing you in a newly bought gown, clutched his heart and closed his eyes, moaning something about how you’re too beautiful, it burns my eyes! The theatrics are sweet, you suppose, and though you’ll feel dirty for it, often the praise and the honest adoration in those swirling brown depths of his will leave a fluttery, warm feeling in your chest.)

There’s just something about making you happy that never fails to leave Uvogin feeling giddy and childish, a boyish excitement coursing through his veins that almost beats out the feeling of smashing his opponent’s skull in. And so, he strives to make you smile in every possible way he can – he spoils you, of course, but he also possesses such vast knowledge on you from all that stalking that he knows exactly what you like.

He knows just how to compliment you – he’ll know if you prefer comments on your appearance or your personality or your talents, effortlessly praising you with such ferocity and consistency that it’ll leave you bashful and embarrassed but so, so pleased.

He knows what kind of men you like – he knows which TV shows, movies, books, and stories you read, which tropes you adore, and try to alter himself just a hair so that he fits that stereotype a little more.

(He won’t be willing to fully change himelf, because he does want you to love him, but he’s not above playing up his more possessive or aggressive side if you like the bad boy type, or showing off his actually decent cooking skills if you enjoy a more responsible man, or even busting out more corny, bad puns if you prefer funnier, goofier men.)

He’s pulling out all the acts of services he knows you’ll find meaningful – you hate having to shave your legs? Let him do it for you – he’s good at that sort of thing, and of course he wouldn’t mind holding your legs or putting on the lotion for you afterwards.

(Plus, you aren’t allowed to use a razor by yourself – but that’s beside the point.)

He’s even going so far as to recreate sexual scenarios and acts he knows you have a penchant for – even if you possess a kink he isn’t super interested in, he’s willing to give it a try because he wants you to want to touch him, and even if wax or mutual masturbation or anything else isn’t his thing, if it gets you eager and in the mood for him, he’ll snap to it in a heartbeat.

He is, all things considered, a good captor – he treats you well and caters to your every need, but no one is perfect, and the only major downside of being stuck with him is his touchiness.

He’s clingy, incredibly so – he’s always touching you, his hands on your body in some capacity, regardless of whether you approve or not. He won’t force you into sex, but he will force you into intimacy, whether that be a casual arm around your waste, a kiss against your lips, or cuddling you to sleep at night.

He almost views it as his reward for being so kind and considerate with you – he’s showing immense self control by not ripping off your clothes and fucking you full of his cum right here on the floor, so let him pull you into his side and wrap an arm around your shoulder while you watch the TV, yeah?

He’s showcasing just how strongly he respects your opinion of him by not pushing you to your knees and shoving his cock down your throat, so let him hum and spoon you as you both drift off to sleep, his hot breath fanning against your ear. He’s just always touching you – and while it often leads to lewd activities, the roots of why he always wants to touch you and have contact between the two of you is much more innocent.

He strongly expresses his love through physical touch, and he feels that by always having your skin touching he’s helping build the framework for your relationship, that every touch and kiss and squeeze is helping you fall in love with him, encouraging you to relax in his presence and even enjoy being with him.

So, frankly, if you can put up with his handsiness and the fact that you’ll never be allowed outside or see another human being, Uvogin’s not too terrible – it could be much, much worse, and he won’t hesitate to tell you that.

He doesn’t like to, but telling you stories of how horrible some of his troupemates can be will get the job done on making you grateful that he’s the one who’s fallen for you – at least he doesn’t hurt you, at least he doesn’t mess with people’s memories, at least he doesn’t enjoy torturing others and hearing them scream.

(He’ll conveniently forget to mention that he does enjoy killing others, but throwing Feitan under the bus and framing him in a negative light is much more conducive to the point he’s trying to make.)

So really, be grateful that Uvogin is the one who’s gone through all the effort to follow you, observe you, love you, because really, that’s all he is – just a man in love. And isn’t that so, so very sweet?

The fact that you’re stuck under the same roof, unable to escape or ignore him or deny his affections may deter this lovely image of him as a lovesick man, but eventually you’ll come around. Just wait.

PUNISHMENTS:

Because Uvogin is generally a more laid-back yandere (particularly once you’re in his custody, where he knows you can’t escape – at least, not permanently), punishments are things that actually don’t happen too often.

He really prefers to see you smile, loving the way your laugh sounds when he tells horrible jokes or makes snide comments that get you giggling.

He loves the way you smile at him, pearly teeth showing off and your cheeks plumping up, looking perfect and squishy and like the ideal spot to reach out and pinch.

He loves when you get all flustered, your bashful expression making him lick his lips and rush forward to grab at your ass and kiss you, growling in your ear that you’re too damn cute when you get all stuttery, makes me wanna eat you up.

He’s genuinely endeared by you, and because of this it’s extremely hard for him to stay mad at you. Sure, fleeting irritation occasionally licks at him, particularly towards the beginning of his obsession when you were still rebellious, still crying when you saw him, still flinching at every act of affection he tried to give you. He was irritated, yes, but never angry – you’re too sweet and small and weak to be too much for him to handle, really, and although he never would, the fact that he could very, very easily overpower you always brings him back down to Earth, managing to calm down enough to not accidentally strike you across the face or snap your neck or bite you or any number of things.

(Besides, biting you is reserved for the bedroom, as is wrapping his hand around your neck and oh, shit, now he’s hard. Well, you caused it, so now, as he stares at you with lidded eyes and that familiar, coy smile, you have to take care of it.)

It generally takes a lot for him to get mad enough at you to actually consider giving you the consequences of your actions – mainly, he has two big triggers.

The first one is causing any kind of harm to yourself. Sure, you may not be strong enough to hurt him, but you’re so delicate and weak that he’s convinced even a particularly strong gust of wind could kill you.

(Obviously not, but anyone that can’t use Nen or anything more than basic defense is automatically as good as dead in his mind.)

He’s not as able to seamlessly and tightly control your own actions against yourself. He can limit what you have access to (no sharp knives, razors or heavy, metal items that could clause blunt force trauma), but it’s harder to prevent you from starving yourself or breaking a bone.

And frankly, that scares Uvo a bit – he doesn’t like that he can’t bar you from harming yourself, and the moment he sees even a glimmer of it in your eye, he's shutting it down firmly and swiftly, his grip on your wrist iron clad as he glares down at you and tells you think this through, babe, because I ain’t nursing you back to recovery, and we both know you don’t know shit about setting broken bones.

His second trigger is when you make attempts to contact other people. He’s possessive to a fault, and while it would be extremely difficult for you to successfully get into contact with another person aside from himself, even the mere idea gets his blood boiling, something hot and heavy and ugly forming in his gut.

He doesn’t like the idea that you want to speak with others – particularly if they’re male, even if they’re related to you. He should be enough for you; he provides for you and gives you affection and love, even if you aren’t willing to ask for it.

He gives you enough pleasure to leave your head spinning every night, dedicated and committed to making you come at least twice before he bothers with his own pleasure.

He even goes so far as to spoil you by stealing every little thing he knows you want, just to see you smile and hear your pretty voice telling him thank you Uvo, I love it!

(He’ll even steal things he thinks you’d like – he’s almost always on the money, and you’ll be surprised at how quickly and accurately he narrows down your likes and dislikes. Though, with the amount of time he’s spent stalking you, stealing your personal items, and getting your family members to talk about you - normally with his fist acting as incentive to spill your information - it’s no surprise.)

But so really, outside of trying to speak to other people past the threshold of the house he keeps you locked in and harming yourself, Uvogin probably won’t hurt you – not on purpose, at least.

(He’s so strong and massive that sometimes it just happens, even when he’s not even remotely mad. He’ll hug you too hard and leave a nasty bruise on your ribcage, or slap your ass and leave you too sore to sit down for a few hours. He’ll always feel a bit guilty, but also a bit proud – because now you’ll be thinking of him, and isn’t that just wonderful?)

And even if he does get angry, punishing you with physical violence is never an answer – it would be too easy to kill you, and he doesn’t want that. Not at all – actually, the thought of you dying (particularly by his own hand) is a fate worse than dying himself, and if it were to happen, Uvogin would become a shell of a man, living to kill others to an even more extreme degree than he does currently.

But when he does have to punish you, he relies more on mental games. He may be strong but he’s not stupid, and so while he doesn’t have the vast knowledge or flair for manipulation that someone like Chrollo or Shalnark might have, he’s still able to get his point across.

And so, Uvogin decides that the most surefire, successful way to get you to stop doing something bad is to simply ignore you.

Frankly, it hurts him almost as much as it hurts you – you’re so precious to him, something he always, always wants to touch and talk to and watch like a hawk, but he’s able to steel himself and hold out until he’s sure you’ve learned your lesson.

Uvogin’s jaw clenches as he takes in the scene before him; he’d just returned home from the grocery store, getting (stealing) your favorite snacks – along with some beef jerky for himself and some meat that looked particularly appetizing.

He’d been doing something nice – going all the way into town, risking getting seen or recognized, even going through the effort of choosing what he knows you like – all because you’d been looking a bit sad this morning, and you’d been out of bed much earlier than normal.

He was worried, if he was being honest, because you hadn’t returned his good-morning hug like normal, and you hadn’t laughed at one of his terrible, horrible puns, and you hadn’t even yelped when he’d picked you up by the ass, making your legs wrap around his waist.

It was concerning, and he’d hoped that maybe getting you your favorite foods would brighten your mood. He’d been hoping to have a nice night in with you tonight, comprised of a new action flick he’d been wanting to see (Phinks promised it was absolutely dismal, and Uvogin always enjoyed mocking the poorly done fight scenes in cinema), some good take-out, and, of course, ending the evening with you perched on his lap, bouncing up and down and moaning his name.

It was a good plan, but this was not part of it.

The grocery bags fall from his slackened grip, hitting the floor with a dull thud as he continues to stare. Whatever he’d been expecting when he walked through the door, it surely wasn’t you with the small bit of sandpaper he keeps in a kitchen drawer in hand.

The sandpaper was used for sharpening knives, something he very firmly kept out of your reach – they were in the highest cabinet with a padlock on them, just so that you wouldn’t get any funny ideas.

But it seems he didn’t plan quite well enough – because here you are, the sandpaper inches from your forearm, the skin rubbed raw and blood dripping down the skin. You’re staring at him, equally frozen, and there’s a certain amount of fear in your eyes that makes Uvogin’s rage only worsen.

You know this is bad, you look like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

Things are still for a moment, but then Uvogin’s rushing forward, grabbing you by the waist and lugging you over to the sink, not saying a word as he forces your arm under the stream of much too hot water he’d turned on, making sure to clean the wound. It stings and you hiss, nails digging into the skin of his shoulder, but even when you try to kick him and get out of his grasp, he doesn’t budge at all.

He holds your arm under until all the blood is gone, and then he’s setting you back on the ground, his expression blank. Somehow, that scares you more than his yelling and anger does – because this is something new, something you aren’t quite sure how to navigate. Uvogin fixes you with a harsh, cold glare, and for a moment you think he’ll start laying into you about how careless you were, about how you were purposefully hurting yourself, and you prepare for the onslaught of accusations and belittlement.

But it doesn’t come – instead, he turns on his heel, picking up the groceries and returning to the kitchen without sparing you a glance. He still hasn’t said anything, and as he starts putting away the various items into the cupboard, he remains silent.

Eventually, he reaches the portion of the groceries dedicated to you, and he hesitates for just a moment before throwing it all in the trash, still not bothering to look at you. You can see the brand names and packages of your favorite snacks, and for a moment you almost, almost feel guilty.

You’d been breaking one of his rules, just trying to feel something to combat the numbness that being his captive left to you with, all the while he was out buying you surprise snacks, all for some unknown reason.

Your arm was stinging still, and soon your eyes were too. Once he finishes up, he walks out of the kitchen, stomping down to his bedroom and slamming the door closed. You’re left to stand there, holding a paper towel over your wound that was slowly starting to bleed again, utterly confused at his strange behavior.

Never, in all your time with him, had you ever been ignored like this – he was overwhelming, sure, suffocating, even, but this? The day will pass slowly as you sit down on the couch and stare at the ground, confusion eating at you as you try to make sense of what just happened. The apartment is uncharacteristically quiet, and by the time two hours have rolled around, your arm has stopped hurting and your knee is bouncing, unease making you on edge.

Uvogin’s silent – there’s no sound coming from his room, and for a moment you wonder if he’s fallen asleep, something unusual for him. (He’s never let you nap mid-day, always claiming you’re wasting the time by sleeping it away.) Finally, after much internal debate, you gently stand up and shuffle down the hallway to his heavy wooden door, tentatively knocking. Uvogin?

Your voice is small, scared, hesitant, and there’s no response from inside. Your brows furrow but you swallow, loneliness creeping up your spine because as fucked up as it sounds, you miss him.

You miss his booming voice, warm touch, cheeky compliments, even his dark eyes fixed on you. It’s lonely without him, and although you’re beyond embarrassed and disdainful of how you’d only been left alone for two hours and you’re already feeling this desperate, you push open the door anyways.

Uvogin’s sitting on his bed, his white tank top stripped off and just a pair of boxers sitting low on his hips, and even as the door creaks open and you peak inside, he makes no move. He’s staring down at his phone – it looks comically small in his giant hands, and you bite your lip. Calling out his name again, you slowly creep closer and closer, your steps shuffled and small and quiet, but he doesn’t respond to you in any way.

It’s only once you’re within touching distance that you try a different angle – you’re playing with your fingers as you tell him that you’re sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. He still doesn’t move, and a new, odd sense of panic settles into your gut.

You apologized, what more does he want? You can’t stand being ignored like this – not even the slightest acknowledgement of your presence, after months of being the apple of his eye. With a newfound urgency, you carefully climb onto the bed, wrapping your arms as far around his chest as you can, burying your face against his arm as you shoulders start slightly shaking, tears welling up in your eyes.

You’re pathetic like this, and you know it – crying because your captor won’t pay attention to you? Any sense of self-respect you’d managed to cling onto dissipates, and soon you’re speaking again, little hiccups interrupting your words.

‘M sorry Uvo, I don’t know what’s wrong with me, please help me. I don’t know why I hurt myself, and I don’t know why this is hurting me even more than that stupid sandpaper – why does it make me feel so sad when you don’t look at me? What’s wrong with me? There’s something seriously fucked up with me, why do I miss you?

It becomes a stream of consciousness, more than anything, your voice progressively getting louder and louder until you’re actually crying – big, wet tears and snot dripping from your nose, your grip on Uvogin never loosening.

He’s looking at you now, peeking at you from the corner of his eye and watching you bare your heart to him, and although it shouldn’t feel this good, he can’t help but crack a smile.

You’re just too damn cute – he’d been livid when he found you in the kitchen, but now you seem more like a scared little kitten, all tiny and weak and malleable, and what you’re admitting right now sends shivers down his spine.

You miss him.

You want him.

It makes him chuckle a bit, and immediately you’re freezing up, staring up at him with your eyes all red and your cheeks wet. He smirks down at you, and before you know it he’s wrapping his arms around your waist and manhandling you on top of him while he lays down, pressing you against his chest and peppering kisses against the crown of your head.

So it hurts to not be around me? Damn babe, almost sounds like you’re in love with me. Isn’t that something?

He laughs, and you only clutch him tighter, embarrassment eating you alive, but the feeling of his hands on you and his voice crooning your name makes you not care.

All that matters is that he’s paying attention to you, seeing you, and as his hands move down to cup your ass and his voice gets more gruff and low, you’ll eagerly let him strip off your flimsy tee shirt and panties.

Anything he wants, as long as he keeps you from feeling that horrible, horrible loneliness.

OVERALL DANGER:

7/10

Uvogin is less dangerous and more overwhelming.

He’d never physically hurt you – at least, not on purpose. He’s painfully aware of how much bigger he is than you, of how much stronger and more adept at fighting and chasing, and the concept of even leaving a scratch on your pretty skin doesn’t sit right with him.

He’s wildly protective over the few people he loves, and you sit at the very top of that list – in many ways, he’s like your own personal guard dog, just much bigger and needier and touchier.

He wants you to love him back, to return the depths of his passionate, unhinged devotion to you, and he’s willing to do pretty much anything he needs in order to achieve this – he’s spoiling you with all kinds of jewels and snacks and flowers and clothing, grinning when he sees the way you get all embarrassed and flustered when he tells you just how much that diamond he snagged for you would go for on the market.

He’s handsy, always initiating affection with you, and not a moment goes by where he isn’t touching you – he’s grasping your hand in his when you’re showering together, the other hand helping lather your body up in the soap (and wandering, too, groping, squeezing, kneading, feeling).

He’s wrapping you up in his arms, perching you on his lap while you watch a movie together, drowning in a pile of blankets while he hums in your ear and makes fun of the movie, his laughter low and his grip tightening on you when the main character and the love interest finally kiss, his voice purring into your ear that you’re much prettier than her, princess, love this smile and this fucking body.

He’s always smacking your ass or telling you horrible, dirty pick up lines, just because he wants to see you smile.

And even though you’ve been kidnapped, forced to live the rest of your life with a mass murderer, criminal, monster, Uvogin will treat you with more care, love and attention than other man ever has – he wants you, in this raw, pitiful way, and although he’s rough on the edges and scary, eventually he’ll win you over.

He’ll get you feeling fond for him, craving his touch, finding comfort in the way he wakes you up with a kiss in the morning and inhales against your neck, telling you to put on those panties you wore yesterday, baby, you know the ones, the mere command making you shiver in excitement because you know you’ll be having trouble walking tomorrow.

He’ll show up at your doorstep with splatters of blood on his white shirt and a crazed look in his eye as he kisses you, telling you that that man that used to catcall you on fifth street can sure run fast, but not fast enough, and you’ll find that you’re almost flattered that he’d gone and killed the man who’d made you so uncomfortable all those times.

He’s just oddly charming, and you may hate yourself for it, but eventually you will consider yourself his – and you’ll even be happy about it.

#yandere hxh #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere uvogin #_hxh #_lee's profiles #_uvogin

445 notes · View notes

miz-chase · 5 months ago

Text

One of the Domestication Syndrome symptoms of later seasons Temperance Brennan is her sudden acceptance of marriage as good/desirable/just. We spend seasons of her rejecting monogamy, transactional possession of women as property, and long-term partnership. Booth (and the show writers) wear her down until suddenly she’s confessing about the wedding she’s always dreamed of and the clipping of a wedding dress she had saved for decades.

my counteroffer/headcanon is that, early on in b&b’s relationship, Brennan had a meeting with her financial advisor. They mentioned in passing the financial benefits of marriage. Finding a rational, logical, useful reason for matrimony, Brennan does what she always does: makes an impulse decision and charges bullheadedly straight ahead.

The very next day, at an early morning crime scene, she informs Booth that they need to leave work a little early today. Thinking she’s just tempting him with afternoon sex, he happily agrees. Only, once 3:30pm rolls around, it’s Brennan and Angela who hop into his Sequoia, and for some reason they’re dressed up? Weird but okay.

It takes him longer than it should for him to realize Brennan is directing him to the courthouse. It takes him even longer to realize what the hell is going on, when Brennan drags him to the county marriage records office and demands his ID. He balks.

“Bones, what the hell— what exactly….”

“You said it the other day, you were waiting for me to ask you to marry me. I have come to understand the practical benefits of matrimony and consent under our previously agreed terms of long-term monogamy. The court had an open time slot this afternoon so why wait?”

“And besides, you’ve already got a suit on,” Angela drawled with a grin.

“And I have rings, so we will be respecting your customs.” Brennan grinned and held up two metal bands that Booth recognized. He’d know them anywhere: they were Pops and Grams’s rings.

“Oh…” Booth was taken aback, pretty sure he had hit his head and fallen into a bizarro world dream. “Uhm. So we—we’re getting married?”

Brennan’s expression faltered. “You… you don’t want to?”

“No? I mean, yes? No? I do?”

“Oh.” She frowned, the momentum that had carried her for the past 24 hours suddenly halted. “I thought… you had said…” Her shoulders sagged, she studied her feet. “I… I apologize, I must have misunderstood you. I thought you wanted…”

Booth gently tilted her chin back up, catching her eyes with his. “Bones,” she didn’t look up, so he tapped her gently on the cheek. “Hey. Look at me, please?” Reluctantly, she glanced up.

“Temperance, if you want me to marry you, all you gotta do is ask.” She silently studied his face and he gave her a teasing little wink and reassuring smile.

“Seeley Booth, will you marry me in—“ she checked her watch “—approximately eleven minutes?”

“Absolutely.” He kissed her, Angela cheered, the man behind the record’s desk tapped his fingers impatiently.

It was a perfectly little courthouse ceremony, with Angela the witness digging in her skirts to reveal a bouquet she had been hiding plus a bubble wand to surround them with bubbles.

Maybe someday they’d have a big church to-do, but it was enough to promise exclusive, loving monogamy for as long as they could stand each other 💛

#booth x brennan #bones tv #Oh this turned into a Drabble #whatever

94 notes · View notes

princesslovinharmony · 4 months ago

Text

"So why exactly are you not dating yet?" Barty asks, while sitting on a sofa in the library. Remus scoffs.

"Because he snoggs every girl in this castle? I have a feeling I am not really his... Type."

Barty rolls his eyes dramatically, swinging up his legs and placing them on Regulus' lap.

"Oh come on Lupin. Do something about it. I can feel the fire."

Regulus clears his throat, looking disgusted at Bartys shoes on his lap.

"Barty, you fucking arsonist, you will feel fire in about 3 seconds if you don't get those feet off of me!" Barty just chuckles but does indeed remove his legs.

"Oh shut up Reggie, you love me." He winks at Regulus.

"Lupin, kill me now, I beg you" Regulus groans and lets his forehead hit his book.

"I wanna see you beg" Barty grins. "Merlin, okay, Barty you need to shut up." Regulus says annoyed. Barty grins and mouths a 'never' before returning back to Remus.

"So Remus. What's the plan? Armotentia? Kidnap him and set everything on the Stockholm Syndrome card? Imperio him? The last one is technically illegal but I could take the fall, I don't mind..."

Remus looks at him, half amused, half shocked. "All of those suggestions are illegal. Not just technically illegal. Illegal. And absolutely insane" Barty grins. "My two favorite i-words. Illegal and Insane" He looks up at the ceiling like he is daydreaming. Regulus just groans and closes his book. "Can we please change the topic? I can't concentrate on my homework if you guys are discussing how to seduce my brother." Barty chuckles and turns around to Regulus. "We could also discuss your secret boy. If you would tell us who he is." Regulus face does not move a muscle. "Never."

I do live for Barty being an absolute maniac #insaneismyfavoriteword

My best friend's brother by nightwitchy on A03 btw.

98 notes · View notes

justanofficeworker · 5 months ago

Text

Man's best friend

TW: This Fic contains kidnapping, dub con, NSFW scenes, Stockholm syndrome among other things. Please do not read if these themes upset or disturb you. That being said welcome and enjoy the ride.

Chapter 1- The meeting

The harsh fluorescent lights of my local grocery store shone into my eyes as I struggled to reach the top shelf for the last item on my list. I groan as I fall back from the tips of my toes. ‘God whoever put the brown sugar on the top shelf is a fucking whore’ I think to myself rolling my eyes. ‘Ok, round two’ I reach up to the shelf again, my hand just barely grazing the bag before a large scared hand plucks the bag down and offers it to me. My eyes follow the hand, up a thick arm to an attractive scared face, it's bottom half covered by a black surgical mask with a white skull decal on the front.

“Need a’lil help love?” the man's voice was warm like hot chocolate and just as smooth. “ holy, blond babe” involuntarily slips through my lips, I need to start thinking before I speak. “ well that's a new one” he chuckles, a sound I would pay a premium just to have in a bottle. "Geez, I'm sorry, that was creepy. Thanks for grabbing that for me" I rush out, taking the bag of brown sweetness in my hand. " Don't worry about it, I've been told my appearance is a bit shocking to most civilians, I'm Simon" he holds his hand out for a handshake. 'civilians, maybe he's ex-military?' I think as I shake his hand. It's as warm as his voice sounds and he grasps my hand gently, not like how most men squeeze your hand to intimidate you when you're a woman. "I'm Y/n, but most people just call me Beanie" The sentence all but falls out of my mouth, god I'm awkward.

Simon steps closer to me as another shopper passes through the aisle. "Beanie? A cute name fitted for a cute girl" his eyebrows quirk like he was smiling or maybe laughing at his own joke. 'holy shit this guy is huge' runs through my mind as he gets closer. Simon has a least a foot on me and is nearly twice as wide, hes like a brick house covered in a fluffy green cardigan. "hello? Earth to ms. Beanie. You still in there? or do you just like staring?" He waves a hand in front of my face and i let out a startled squeak.

"I'm so sorry, I just um ,have a lot on my mind" a good enough excuse if I've ever made one. Simon looks pensive " well, I've got to get home before my , dog, gets antsy. But how bout we talk more over coffee. maybe you can tell me a little of whats on your mind" he pulls out a pen and receipt from his pocket and jots his number on it. "text me some time" he winks as he turns to walk out the aisle. " Oh um yeah ok" i call out to him , dumb founded, a hot english guy just gave me his number after calling me cute. The world must be ending. I finish my shopping quickly and begin my walk home, unable to shake the sudden feeling of being watched.

SIMON POV

“Toothpaste,sorbet, lemons….” Simon’s thoughts trailed off as he looked catching a glimpse of what had to be the most pathetic looking woman he had ever seen. She was small and curvy and struggling. Muttering under her breath , probably about the sugar she couldn’t reach. Her braids bounced with his movements as she tried to reach the top shelf again. Simon had know her, before he could stop himself he was walking over and reaching for the sugar, brown like her glossy skin, and handing it to her. He had asked if she needed help and in her surprise called him a ‘blond babe’. She was shy , like a mouse , in their short interaction she seemed to just loose focus and float off. A girl like her shouldn’t be by herself, she should be at home being coddled and cozy. At least according to Simon.

He had to know more, so he gave her his number, he knew she eventually reach out and then they’d have their girl. He excused himself and then waited. Soon enough she was exiting the store and walking , presumably, to her home. As he watched he called Johnny. “Soap, i’ve found a bird for us” he said into his earbud as he took a picture to sent to his partner. As the photo was received johnny groaned. “She’s a pretty one, looks sweet” came johnny’s voice.

“When?” Johnny barked impatiently

“Soon” Simon scolded as he got into his car and drove off

————————————————————————------------------------

The sound of the car door alerted Johnny to Simon’s return. Soon enough heavy footsteps sounded up the porch. Johnny opened the door for his partner, eager to know more about their new girl. Crowding Simon in the entryway and throwing questions left and right. Whats her name, when will she be ours , what does she smell like? The inquires dying in his throat as Simon curls a warm hand around it. “ patience johnny shes a skittish one. Quiet and easily distracted too. We don’t want to scare her , do we?” Johnny gave a whine and nodded “I’m going to take her out , wine and dine her and when the time comes bring her home. You will not interfere. Copy?” Simon pulled Johnny in close by the throat, towering over him. “ yes sir” johnny whined, his hips twitching against Simon’s leg. Johnny had always been impatient and impulsive, but now with the prospect of you all training went right out the window.

"Good lad, now kneel for me love" Johnny easily slides to the floor, his head bowed and lent against Simon thigh. Johnny was docile when he wanted something and in this case it was information. Slowly, johnny unzips Simon's fly, " tell me a bout our bird Simon, whats she like?" Johnny, voice sultry and sweet, is allowed to pull Simon from his pants.

" Eager are we puppy?" Simon hisses as Johnny kisses his leaking tip. "shes a golden goddess of a women, small and demure, she was shy when i approached her but" he pauses as Johnny's warm mouth engulfs his member. "i can see it , shes got a mean streak, was cursin' up a storm before she noticed me." Simon sighs as johnny takes him to the base. "Easy pet, wouldn't want to" Simon is interrupted by a high pitched *ping*.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

" I'm home" you yelled into your empty apartment. You lived alone but had read somewhere that announcing your arrival and departures could help stave off the effects of depression. And god did you need a break from those effects. You'd been alone since you had kicked out your then boyfriend of 3 years after finding him in bed with your now ex best friend. "it's not what it looks like' he had said as you started grabbing all traces of him and throwing them out the nearest window, you friend's clothes included. You'd kicked them both out with nothing but the sheet off your bed and said good riddance. 'maybe i should get a cat" You mused as you unloaded your groceries. Your thoughts suddenly swerving to the huge blond you'd met, the number he had slipped you now burning a hole in your pocket.

Maybe you'd text him , be real suave and ask him out or something.

Beanie: Hey it's Beanie from the grocery store you helped me wit the sugar :)

Typing....

typing...

' He must be typing a letter or something, you think as you lean against your cabinet. Setting your phone down you leave the kitchen take a well deserved bath. As you turn the tap you hear a distant *ping*. You may or may not have run out of the bathroom and tripped trying to get to your phone faster.

Simon: Yeah Beanie

Simon: I remember you , the pretty bird buying sugar

You can feel your face heating at the compliment, already imagining his smooth as warm butter voice. You were having some inappropriate feelings about a stranger and you needed to *ping*. Another text.

Simon: so about that coffee love?

#simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish #ghost x reader #mw2 #cod mw3 #domestic fluff #ghoap x reader #ghoap #hehe :3

78 notes · View notes

omg-im-such-a-masochist · 8 months ago

Text

Imposter Syndrome

Summary: After his car accident, Matt has been acting out strange. What could possibly be wrong with your - once sweet - husband?

Pairings: Matthew Jackson x Fem!Reader

Warnings: +18, adult language, asphyxiation, smut, dub-con, dirty talk.

Tags: @theworldofotps , @writtingrose , @daddyhausen , @melissahausen , @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin , @sophiewolfheart-blog , @sultryfandoms , @new-zealand-chic , @crowleysqueenofhell , @thealliasylum , @legit9thlunaticwarrior , @bayleymania , @josiewrites , @seeingstarks , @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch , @whenimakeitshine1234 , @moxkindagirl , @sunshinevirus , @im-just-a-mississippi-girl, @ripleyswhore , @tahiri-veyla

Relief can’t even begin to fathom what I felt once I entered with Matt by my side through the threshold of our home.

“Careful, my love” I placed my hand behind his back as I helped him sit down on the couch. The purple stains beneath Matt’s eye and jaw were almost gone by now.

After the car accident that left my husband 4 weeks in the hospital, he was finally recovered enough to come home, and could at last get some rest in our own bed. It was such a relief to see him better after everything we’ve gone through the past month, but now that we’re home, I’m ready to get our life back on track.

I sat on the armrest of the couch and caressed his shoulder while asking “Do you want something to eat, Matty?”. His brown eyes fixed on my face, and a hint of contempt quickly flashed in the dark chocolate irises.

“Matthew” He scorned “I hate being called ‘Matty’, it’s childish”.

With frowned eyebrows, I stood up as he continued, “And yes, I want a chicken sandwich filled with tomatoes and chips”.

“Tomatoes? But you hate tomatoes inside the sandwich-”

“Just go get me a fucking sandwich, alright?!” Matt growled, still not realizing my utter shock upon hearing the cuss word coming out of his lips.

Matt never cusses…at least until now.

“Where’s my beer?” Matt asks as I place the sandwich on top of the coffee table.

“We don’t have alcohol at home,” I said “You don’t drink alcohol”.

“Well I do now” He flashed me a bitter smile before grabbing a couple of dollars from his shorts’ side pocket. “Be a good girl and go buy me a pack, would you?” With a teasing wink, Matt softly pushed me towards the front door. He turned the TV on and stopped at the sports channel.

Matt’s eyes followed the fast jabs one of the opponents was receiving, his lips moved rapidly, and I could’ve sworn I heard “Kill him. Kill that motherfucker!” Before I made my way out the door.

After leaving Matt’s beer on the kitchen counter, I went upstairs for a shower. The warm water made wonders for my sore neck muscles and I could feel the last stressful weeks being washed down the drain along with the water.

After getting changed into a clean set of clothes, I laid down in bed and kept staring at the ceiling. My mind wandered into a series of silent questions about my husband and his current behavior. The doctor warned me about possible temporary personality changes, but I didn’t expect it to be this drastic. As I kept asking myself how long it would take for Matt to get back to his usual self, I felt my eyes getting heavier with each breath.

I felt the darkness even before opening my eyes, turning around in bed until I was facing the ceiling, my once-heavy lids slowly opened to find Matt staring at me.

“Jesus Christ!” I yelped, placing a hand on top of my chest in an attempt to get my frantic heartbeat at ease. “Matt, what the hell?! You scared the crap out of me!”

Matt's smile was predatory and unfamiliar, his eyes roamed through my face until they went down my neck and breasts.

“I was waiting for you to come downstairs to watch the fight with me, but to my surprise, you were here sleeping”.

“I’m sorry, love. I was a bit tired, and I guess I ended up falling asleep”

“Poor, dovey. Are you tired?” Matt leaned forward and laid his lips on mine. “I can help you feel better”. His hand cupped my breast through the tank top, softly snarling before his closing grip made me gasp, “Matt, what are you doing?”

A quick halt of my breath made me realize that the hand that was once on my breast was now around my throat. Squeezing the sides until I felt my lungs burning with the need of air.

“How many times do I have to tell you it’s ‘Matthew’?! Not ‘Matt, not ‘Matty’, but ‘Matthew’!” His chocolate eyes burned with something still unfamiliar to me. That threatening gaze glistened with unrecognizable mischief, lingering in my face until my lips mumbled a soft “I- I’m sorry, Matthew”.

The pressure on my throat slowly begins to subside, the hand that once blocked my airway now slowly descended to my hips, stopping at the hem of my shorts and sinking into it.

My mind wandered through his face, trying to get a glimpse of the husband I once knew. The full beard was replaced by a goatee, the usual loose bun had turned into a slick ponytail, and the eyes that sparkled with love and devotion were now nothing but two pools of lust and raw desire.

“What a good little whore” Matthew whispered into my ear. His hand pushed my head down on the mattress, holding me in place while his opposite hand pressed down on my lower back.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this moment”, Matthew’s teeth scraped against my shoulder, sucking a small purple circle on the tensed muscle. “Of how many times I stroked my cock thinking about coming inside you”.

The sharp pain in my neck made me whisper “Matthew”.

Hands closed around my neck, pulling me up to a knelt position. My back rested against his chest, and his sweat dripped on my lower back making me call for his name once again.

“Oh that’s it, keep saying my name, dovey. Say the name of the man who is fucking you so good” Matthew’s lips rested against my temple, pushing the sweaty hairs away from my face with his lips and chin.

“I’ve never wanted anybody as much as I want you, little dove. When I saw how poorly Matt treated this sweet pussy, how little attention he gave to it, how he never tasted it, how he never teased it nor overstimulated it until it could only grow wetter and wetter, I thought ‘he doesn’t deserve it! He doesn’t deserve such a tight, warm, little pussy’ but I do!” Matthew sank deeper, aiming his cock to reach spots I’d never known existed until now.

My legs tremble with pleasure, and a string of incomprehensive words leaves my lips the more he plays with my clit.

“Look at this cute little nub” The burn of Matthew’s slap on my clit made me moan loudly, the sting soon being appeased by the rhythmic circles “How could someone not want to play with it? Only a fucking pussy like Matt could leave this cunt unfilled”. Matthew’s hand tugged on my scalp, aiming my head to face the mirror. He leaned forward, gluing his lips to my ear to state a string of words that both excited and frightened me “Take a good look at your new husband, dovey. Because I’m not going anywhere!”.

#matt jackson x reader #matt jackson imagine #matt jackson fanfiction #matt jackson #the young bucks #young bucks #masochist writes

89 notes · View notes

britcision · 1 year ago

Text

AND NOW: Part Two! One might think I would look at the fic at some point and check what chapter we’re on, but I will not! Mostly for “but that takes effort” reasons but also because by the time I get back here I WILL have forgotten!

Part One of this chapter:

First Chapter:

———————

Well You Did Get Down On One Knee (part 2)

Tucker, Conner, and Tim had actually gotten through another round of Spiderheck in between the rabid buzzing of Tim and Tucker’s phones.

Conner had the good sense to mute his and toss it behind the couch… after sharing the “good news” of Timblr with the Young Justice chat. Without which his phone probably wouldn’t have been buzzing at all.

He regretted nothing, despite Tim’s alternate pouting and threats. Tucker was pretty impressed, and pretty sure that it wasn’t just for the guy’s good looks this time.

Finally, after the fourth time Tim’s ringtone changed itself and blasted at full volume (making Tucker completely drop his controller), the Black tech gave up, sighing heartily and dropping his head into his hands.

Not least to hide the sudden wicked grin on his face as an idea struck. Because yeah, sure, he could help Tim try and unhack fucking Oracle on the sly, or… they could remove the distraction another way.

(Tucker wasn’t a thousand percent ungrateful for the distraction; he was pretty sure even without the merry buzzing of his social life burning down around him he’d have had a hard time concentrating on the game.

It just plain wasn’t fair; Conner was too fucking hot, and so earnest, and excited when he was doing well! All the little shouts and exclamations, the broad grins, Tucker was really beginning to doubt his own demisexual nature.

Although, to be fair, it wasn’t like he actually wanted to… interact while Conner was being cuter than Cujo with a rubber bone. Just. It was hard to think about anything else when he could be appreciating all… that instead.

At least while Tim’s ass was being blown off by at least three separate group chats, Tucker’s floundering was less embarrassing.)

Tim gave him a consoling pat on the back while Conner whooped in victory, probably trying to comfort Tucker in the loss. Tucker let him for a moment, running a couple quick calculations in his head.

Because yeah, he’d never got around to asking Danny to ecto infuse any of the Waynes’ tech; not the batcomputer nor the gaming consoles, but. Well. They’d played for hours the last two nights, and it wasn’t like Tucker had never gotten his hands through a console’s innards.

It had to count as knowing the device, right?

And it wasn’t like it was that hard, doing it for just three people. For just one game.

Looking up at the other two, he gave them both a slightly shyer grin.

“So, like… I know we’re having a good time and all,” he began, and Tim groaned theatrically as he was interrupted yet again by his ringtone.

“I’m about to ask Superboy to toss this thing into space,” he grumbled, glowering at his phone.

Conner reached innocently towards it and Tim snatched it back up immediately. Tucker settled back once it was safe too, grinning sheepishly even if it wasn’t his bluff Conner called.

Conner tipped him a wink and Tucker had to clear his throat and give his head a quick shake to clear his blush.

“Right… yeah, uh, anyway. What if I had a better way to get us away from distractions?” He asked as innocently as he could, staring at the screen instead of that far too attractive face.

He could still see the other two sit up from the corner of his eye, both looking interested.

“We’re not allowed to game in the Bat Cave,” Tim said quickly, with a resigned air that said the question had come up before… and enough disappointment that they’d probably done it and been caught.

Which, yeah, thinking of the size of the screen in the cave, Tucker suddenly really wanted to try that too.

Already banned though. And he and Danny were already on thin enough ice with Batman as it was.

Reluctantly dismissing the thought, he returned his attention to the present moment, grin spreading as he turned to face Tim directly.

(Tim was safe. Tim was, objectively, a very handsome young man and Tucker could appreciate that in a distant way, but being pretty was just so much less interesting that almost anything else about Tim.

Tucker could worship him through a distant computer screen, so the pretty blue eyes weren’t much of a distraction. Looking at Tim face to face was really cool, but Tucker would be more tongue tied watching him code.)

“Sure, but you remember I told you about my technopathy? I can interface with machines I know really well,” he added for Conner’s benefit, accidentally looking over in time to preen as his face lit up with interest.

Tim, for some reason, stifled a snicker.

“Yeah, you mentioned. And that it was a little more complicated, but go on,” he prodded, and Conner shot him a look that Tucker was gonna have to ask questions about.

Later. Once he was done showing off a little. And, probably, getting his ass kicked at Spiderheck.

Tucker Foley was a master of video game controls, sure, and that sorta helped, as did “knowing you’ve been thrust into a video game”. He just didn’t delude himself into thinking it’d be enough to counter the actual literal battle training of superheroes.

But hey, maybe having all those extra legs would fuck them both up for long enough that he’d win a few rounds.

“Well I think you might’ve already noticed, but I know this game really well.”

Danny was doing his best to keep a cheerful face on things, especially the weird shit.

It had been a while since he’d had a nasty new halfa surprise of his own crop up (although he didn’t dare hope he’d had his last; that would surely bring something on), but he still remembered how it felt.

How overwhelming, how hollow and intimidating the world could be when you were learning that you really knew almost nothing about yourself. That at any time, your body could do something totally out of your control.

Something you might not be able to handle.

He’d felt the fear in Jason, deep and bright and smothered a second later, but not before Danny felt it.

At least he could be here for the other guy; he wasn’t going to be going into the whole mess alone. Danny would make sure of that. Understandable as his reservations about reliving his death were, they would face it together, and he had to hope that might help.

Possibly with Jazz too, when it was actually time for that first transformation. Danny hadn’t even really started coping with dying when he’d first changed, and he’d been dead less than a minute; it had almost been part of the rebirth process. By the time he’d had to do it for a fight, he already knew what would happen.

For Jason… well, it had been a while, and even Danny could see he’d not done much more than paper over the cracks with bad ecto induced rage and carry on.

He was trying not to let Jason see how much he worried, but had a feeling it didn’t matter. Jason was plenty worried already.

Good news was… well, there wasn’t much good news. It was going to suck, no matter what, and if they didn’t do it in controlled conditions it’d be fucking awful.

But they did have some controlled conditions, and better yet? Probably wouldn’t be a problem for at least a couple more days.

As little as Danny wanted to talk about the whole… mess that was Jason’s death, Jason himself was all about the detailed planning. Back ups of back ups and all that.

It probably came with the Batman training.

(The mad compartmentalising totally did. Danny had spent enough time with Bruce in one single car ride to be sure about that.)

For the moment, he gave Jason as much support he could; contact, a reassuring aura, and a smile whenever he could, and absolutely no oogling of his mostly naked body while they were doing the checkup.

(Jason had mentioned a pit-related growth spurt last time, and this close Danny could see that the scars all over him were interspersed with stretch marks. Now that he actually looked the difference was super obvious; the different colour, the creasing where they indented the skin.

Danny definitely wasn’t thinking of licking them to see if he could feel the texture.

Or running his fingers over bared skin, which was admittedly less intimate than the licking thoughts he totally wasn’t having, but also seemed kinda more a betrayal. Because Jason wouldn’t question Danny touching him, but Danny would have Nefarious Motives.

Of. Textures.

But it was totally fine because he wasn’t having any of those thoughts at all.)

He just wished he knew what had caused that sudden panic attack Jason had earlier; it had come almost from nowhere, a wave of black and crushing dread that froze Danny’s already-iced core. It filled the room, filled his lungs, and would have cost him everything to not respond.

Part of him had wanted to shove Jason fully inside himself, store the much larger man in the hollow of his chest so that nothing could hurt him.

(And Danny could, technically, kinda do that. Jason didn’t have to be that much bigger than him, at least while Danny was in ghost form. Ghost form was all about self perception and, well, raw power.

Looking like his twink ass self was a deliberate choice, and one he’d never regretted until it meant not curling Jason into the infinite curls of his tail and protecting himself from the universe as a whole.)

Danny was super great at boundaries. Yup. One thousand percent completely normal about them.

But he’d been able to wrap his aura around Jason anyway, because that wasn’t a freakishly massive monster form that would freak him out further. They’d helped him calm down, helped him breathe, and Jason seemed…

Way too fine, frankly, even his aura had cleared, and Danny trusted that about as far as Sam could throw him. Bat-level compartmentalizing, for sure.

That was gonna get real weird when the more emotionally regulated ghost powers kicked in, but Danny was gonna cross his fingers and hope that it made Jason’s transition easier, not infinitely more fucked up. Jazz would be intolerable, for one thing.

Most of the rest of the appointment went well anyway; bar the surprise “Congratulations On Your Soul Bond” news (which he would not be thinking about too hard until he couldn’t possibly avoid it), it was pretty much what they’d expected.

Jason was doing good, Danny was gonna need to work around classes tomorrow maybe for another trip, and there was just the teeniest chance Jason’s fully formed core would manifest like, physically.

Shockwaves had been mentioned. Danny now had questions about how much of his original death light show had been the portal itself opening. Ones that could never be answered, but hey.

If/when Clockwork showed up, Danny was gonna prioritise Jason’s soul contract over his own curiosity for purely friend related reasons.

Danny didn’t like soul contracts of any sort at the best of times, unwritten ones that put a friend into his service? Yeah, maybe he was feeling just a little vindicated that Jason could see what he’d been freaking out about now.

Now that it was too late, but Danny was technically the Ghost King and Clockwork’s boss, so even if he couldn’t fix the whole mess until his coronation, it wasn’t gonna be a problem-problem.

If Clockwork tried to use the contract to push Danny into accepting his coronation more quickly, well, Danny had a real good win streak of fighting ancients in his pocket. And he’d double never get coronated if they spent the rest of eternity playing cat and mouse for Danny to beat Clockwork’s ass, so.

Not that Danny believed Clockwork would, really. The Observants? Abso-fucking-lutely, he’d be swinging before they finished a sentence, but Clockwork genuinely seemed to care.

He pruned the timelines with the ruthless efficiency of a gardener, but always to make the best outcome. The one where the least people got fucked over.

He’d absolutely fuck Danny over in the service of getting that best outcome, but Danny was also pretty sure he’d feel bad about it if he did, and that Clockwork would and had chosen to believe in him over his predicted outcomes more than once.

Danny trusted Clockwork.

Of course, now that he wasn’t trying to hide and actually wanted to see his mentor and regent, the bastard was nowhere to be found.

All jokes about the “Ever-Moving Now” aside, they weren’t directly making for Clockwork’s tower; the only way to find it was with Clockwork’s permission, so Danny didn’t usually bother. As a kid they’d thought they could stumble across it and surprise him, but these days?

Danny knew better. And Clockwork wasn’t exactly subtle; his lair had showed up around the very first metaphorical corner when he wanted Danny to come in once too often. And hadn’t been anywhere to be found when Danny searched, only to show up beside his fucking portal home.

Where it definitely hadn’t been on his way in.

It went where Clockwork wanted it, when he wanted it there. Danny totally wasn’t jealous.

It had been a while since he’d bothered hiding from Danny though; these past couple months, just being in the Zone had netted him an unwanted visit from his regent. Danny was beginning to suspect Clockwork wasn’t actually all that keen on ruling the realms, and was just planning to fob the job off on him.

Which, y’know, fair. Danny wasn’t exactly thrilled with it either. But it was his job as Danny’s mentor to protect him from this shit, right?

Now that Danny actually wanted to see him though, of course he wasn’t around. Which probably wasn’t actually a bad sign, or that he’d done something he didn’t want them to know about.

Clockwork was just a cryptic asshole, and apparently Jason had used up all of his “getting clear answers” cards in their first meeting. If only Danny had ever gotten a single damn one.

There was one other detour Danny wanted to make while in the Realms, but… today didn’t feel like quite the right time. Jason had already had a fucking day of it, and Danny didn’t wanna dump any more on him. Even if Ghost Writer’s library would be a nice trip for Jason, it was something they should talk about first.

And… probably ask Ghost Writer about first too.

If Danny ever remembered to do that.

So they’d thanked Frostbite, gotten Jason a bag of ecto ice chips (Danny wasn’t allowed any, it was totally unfair because he needed an energy boost too! But noooo, his core was “stabilised” and “complete” and he needed to “sleep” and “eat” for energy like a pleb. Unfair!), and agreed to come back as soon as Jason’s core stabilised.

Danny figured he could always come back on his own for a visit to Nocturn. That was gonna be a whole ass emotional mess; Dan was technically in the database Tucker had handed over, but Jason hadn’t mentioned it yet. Danny didn’t know if that meant he didn’t know, or was just being actually tactful.

He wasn’t even sure what he actually wanted to say yet, how to ask for what he wanted, and he should probably do this right. Nocturn hadn’t challenged him again since he’d become king, and had actually been super helpful so far, but… well, the spirit of dreams was proud, powerful, and Danny was pretty sure he helped specifically to have something on Danny. He’d already decided that his main job tonight was to help Jason relax, feel better, and work out if he needed to sicc the Sam-Tucker combo on Bruce Wayne’s social media.

…

Who was he kidding. Of course they’d be setting Sam and Tucker on the guy, as soon as Jason gave the green light.

Jason had never exactly gotten all the way through the explicit details of how Bruce had fucked up this afternoon, beyond just siccing Constantine on Jason, but honestly?

He didn’t have to. Jason had been almost tangibly frustrated from the minute he rolled up to Danny’s dorms, though he was gonna shoot Tucker a thank you for his little “revenge”, since it had cheered the guy up right away.

Danny was totally not considering a little spectral revenge for himself too. Mostly because Batman would probably know all about ghosts by now, and probably had Constantine doing his spectral condom act all over the cave.

But it wasn’t like Bruce liked Danny anyway, so really, what did he have to lose? Not like Jason hadn’t already shown whose side he came out on on this one.

Danny didn’t exactly know what having over protective parents was like, but Jason could not be more clear that he didn’t appreciate Bruce’s interference. There was clearly a lot going on with those two, and while they’d already talked about Jason’s death and technically he had permission…

Well, Danny didn’t wanna push. Ask literally any ghost, dying could leave you with a whole stack of issues. Jason wasn’t even close to the most homicidal Danny had met.

That poisonous rage, though… Danny pushed it from his mind. It didn’t matter, wouldn’t matter, Frostbite said Jason was doing well and Pitty would be out of him soon.

…

Maybe, just maybe Danny was also starting to worry what that might mean, since it sent Jason into a full panic attack and he’d seen what the rage was like when fully under control.

Maybe they’d bump up the schedule on taking care of those Lazarus pits. Get that Obsession dealt with, see if it calmed things down.

Yet another thing Danny would have to talk to Clockwork about, and was his irritatingly omnipresent mentor anywhere to be found? Of course not.

Which probably meant this wasn’t a timeline threatening problem. Yet.

What a comfort.

Which left them flying home through the Zone, and Danny totally wasn’t overthinking literally everything. He was being considerate, quiet, giving Jason time to process everything they’d seen that day.

Maybe himself too. Just a little. But it wasn’t like Jason was hurrying to start a conversation, and they both had a lot on their minds. It was a good, comfortable silence.

They had nearly reached his preferred portal spot too, so today’s quick trip to the Ghost Zone was nearly over, unless Danny actually wanted to go Clockwork-hunting… which, while probably less emotionally fraught, wasn’t likely to go great.

(Realms geography could be more than just hinky; they were infinite after all, so he tended to open portals back out in the same place he’d previously opened a portal from the living world in. It seemed to help, and he didn’t usually wind up in the wrong dimension that way.

Especially if there was a nearby, powerful anchor.

Going searching up and down the whole ass Zone for the Ever Moving Now? Yeah, that’d fuck his portal plans right up.)

Danny could feel a steady building trepidation rising in Jason like the tide, but he had no idea what the hell to do about it. Back there in the world were Bruce and Constantine, and all the problems that kept Jason balanced precariously on a knife edge.

Here in the Realms, all the problems were new and interesting and could almost all be solved by punching, which really suited both of them. Danny would have been tempted to suggest that sidebar to see Ghost Writer, but it was late, he had school in the morning, and his super handy time manipulating mentor was being a dick and wasn’t here.

A couple years ago, he’d have said fuck it and gone on the sidebar anyway, and probably not slept all night to help his friend. And had Jazz harping in his ear about “developing bodies”, “needing his sleep”, and “this is why you haven’t had a growth spurt since you were fourteen”.

Which totally wasn’t a valid argument or at all what had made him start taking care of himself. He just… well, he just actually really fucking liked his classes these days.

Against all the odds, Danny Fenton had gotten into a prestigious college, into an engineering program that actually let him stretch his talents. And take apart old or broken lab equipment from the other buildings for fun and profit.

And if he hadn’t slept the night before, they didn’t let him use the welding torch. Danny was pretty sure Clockwork might be behind that, since they somehow always knew.

Maybe that was how Nocturn was already betraying him… conspiring with Clockwork to make Danny sleep more and absorb his power?

Danny considered that seriously for about half a second before discarding it. Sure, Nocturn was the King of Sleep and an ancient, but he was also a canny motherfucker and not likely to mess up badly enough to accidentally become King of the Infinite Realms too.

For all that he wanted power, fucking no one wanted to deal with the Observants. Danny had practically begged.

It wasn’t like they had to go back to Gotham and then immediately straight to bed though. Just, y’know, something that wouldn’t take hours and hours. There had to be something they could do in the city that wouldn’t keep them up all night, but would keep Bruce Wayne off their asses.

Unless Jason had shit to do. Danny… kinda hadn’t asked. The only plans he’d known about for the day was busting out Waylon, and then the potential trip to Frostbite.

Maybe he hadn’t meant for it to go so late? Maybe Danny should ask?

Maybe Jason was getting sick of him.

Maybe Jason was getting a little too good at reading auras, since that thought barely settled in before he broke the silence.

“What the fuck?”

And alright, that might also have been a coincidence Danny decided, brows furrowing as he looked for what had caught Jason’s attention.

It all looked normal up ahead to him. Bright green zone, a couple purple islands (was that the ghost of a Bat Burger? Maybe they should check this place out more), the haze of black smog that always surrounded…

Ah.

Yeah, they hadn’t really had that conversation yet, though Danny had meant to bring it up on the way home. Riiiight up until all that overthinking started.

Guess that made this introduction time. Sort of put a stop to wondering how to cheer Jason up… although depending on how Jason felt, it might just be a distraction.

Danny pulled to a stop, Jason coming in close before stopping alongside him, just in front like he might need to protect Danny from something.

Or like he overshot the stopping. Could be either, really. But Danny had a feeling it was at least a combo. He and Jason were just too alike, but it looked almost automatic. Vigilante training, and Danny’d bust his ass later about treating him like a civilian.

Jason was the civilian here, and his citizen.

He cleared his throat, wondering how exactly to go about this, since ghosts didn’t have an introduction protocol that wasn’t “throw down”. And spent about half a second wondering if that was actually on the table before deciding against it.

Sure, most ghost introductions involved a friendly punch up, but Lady Gotham had always been a little different. And this wasn’t exactly your standard “new ghost who dis”.

“Right, yeah… we didn’t see her last time we were in the Zone. Jason, this is-”

“You think my own boy wouldn’t know me, Phantom?”

The voice came from all around them, low and dark and smokey sweet like molten chocolate with just a hint of whiskey. Jason stiffened and glared around harder, conscious caution battling with the sudden wave of relief from his core.

She spun herself from the smog of the city, like she always had. A tall, curvaceous woman built to Jack Fenton proportions, easily seven feet tall with dark mahogany skin and pitch black lipstick, perfect black hair coiled tight into an afro about her head. Smoky black makeup lined her eyes and caressed high, generous cheekbones in a line of clouds.

Long black gloves covered her hands and arms, one of which was held across her body, hand cupping the elbow of her other arm while the other held what probably was a full sized orange traffic cone like it was a cigarette holder. It looked wrong clasped in her hand, scale thrown off by her size. A thin plume of white smoke even spiralled from the wider end.

She wore a short flapper dress covered in layers of tassels, each of which flashed with beads of jet all along the length except for the last bead on a scattering of the strands, which were large, blood flecked pearls. Below the end of the skirt, her legs were lost in the spills of black smog surrounding her, though occasionally more flashes of pearl could be seen shifting through the murk.

It was her eyes that captured all of the attention though as she caught and held Jason’s gaze, a sly smile on those black lips. They glowed yellow from lid to lid, each pupil shaped like a bat.

The fight dropped out of Jason instantly, jaw dropping.

And yeah, maybe Danny should have expected that he’d… sort of recognize her? Jason was a Gothamite to the core, had been one of her true defenders since pixie boots were in style… right up until his own death.

And if Danny read that twitch right, it was costing him an effort not to automatically drop to one knee. So apparently that was just wired into him, and not just a Clockwork-thing. Good to know.

Her smile spread, showing sharp white teeth dripping with tar.

“My son,” she purred, her voice filling the air around them and sending almost visible ripples through the ectoplasm of the realms, “it is so good to finally meet you in person.”

In front of Danny, Jason tensed again. Whatever he’d recognized didn’t quite cut through bat-paranoia, apparently.

“Danny, who is this?” He asked cautiously, his voice low and not taking his eyes off the twin bat signals pointed at him.

Lady Gotham sighed heavily, taking a deep pull on her traffic cone and blowing out a billowing plume of smog. She gestured to Danny, who nodded quickly.

Totally not gonna “I told you so” the city spirit for the city he was living in. King or not, he had some manners.

“Jason, Lady Gotham. She’s…” he hesitated, not sure how exactly to phrase it.

Had they talked about city spirits? It felt like they had? But it had been so little time, he wasn’t sure.

Lady Gotham stepped back in smoothly, shooting Jason a laconic smile and spreading her arms.

“I am exactly what it sounds like. The beating heart of the city, born from the well of souls and desperate hopes of those who call it home. Every shadow in the alley, every gargoyle you shelter under, every parapet that caught your grapple and let you fly…”

Jason had stopped breathing, which was alright as long as they were in the Zone but might not be later, his eyes tracking desperately over the ghost before them. Her smile softened, becoming fond, tender, her free hand now reaching out towards him.

“… and you have been mine since the day you were born, Jason Todd.”

Jason was…

Jason was. He didn’t know what he was.

He hadn’t realised just how much noise his heart made thumping until the first time it stopped. Until he’d slammed back to life, heard its drumbeat thudding in his head, every second of every day.

This felt a little like that.

Like a sound he’d been hearing all of his life had gone quiet, and then come roaring back in full swing. It was too much, and not enough, and everything he’d missed in Nanda Parbat and around the world when he’d been training, left with only the thudding of his heart.

The sounds of Gotham. Normal city noises, most of them; the honks and occasional screeches of cars, the buzz of people. And then the screams, gunshots, mad cackling laughter that most cities usually only saw in designated areas.

And underneath it all, a low, throbbing pulse, a hum in the back of his head that meant he was home. That told him where he was, every street corner or shady alleyway.

He could navigate the city blindfolded, knew every gargoyle, every running gutter and rusty grate, listening to that beat. That beat that told him it was his place, the one thing that nothing and no one could ever take away from him, not even all the bullshit with the League of Assassins.

He hadn’t really noticed it going quiet in the Ghost Zone before. Which, y’know, they’d been busy. He’d had a lot on his mind, and… well, it happened any time he left the city.

Going away with the Outsiders, it didn’t matter if they crossed the bay to Metropolis or went to space, Jason knew when he wasn’t in Gotham. Knew when he woke up in a hospital bed whether or not he was home just from that beat.

He’d started thinking it might be the city’s ectoplasm, since Danny was so sure that was why he’d risen before. Might have explained why the Zone was a little different; it was all ectoplasm.

And then he’d looked at this woman made of smog and shadows and smoking a fucking traffic cone, and the beat almost brought him to his knees.

How could he not know her? They danced every night, her hand in his, guiding his guns, his grapple, cupped gently around the back of his neck and showing him where to look. Hiding him from Oracle’s cameras, pointing him at those who attacked the weak like he was the gun himself.

Familiar as his own shadow. Constant as gravity.

And it was that familiarity that pulled at every ounce of Bat training, that unconscious recognition and trust that forced him to doubt.

Hypnotists were the fucking worst. Magic users were all annoying, but Jason would tangle with any of the rest before dealing with a hypnotist. They were worse than Condiment King and Kite Man combined into some ketchup splattered hell kite.

And the more something deeper than the Pit whispered that this wasn’t hypnotism, wasn’t an outside influence, was just the deepest part of himself recognising the deepest part of his home, the harder he fought that feeling.

Until her hand reached for his, and she said his name, and his hand was in hers before he could stop himself.

Contact was… it was a lot.

A barrage of sounds, smells, the backs of every alley flashing through his mind as he was bombarded with memories. Memories? Or was that what was happening now?

Flashes of rooftops, bodies tensed in the shadows, goons working below in blissful ignorance that was about to be shattered. Breaking windows, sprays of bullets or gas or worse, moving and punching and taking down without killing.

He caught sight of Cass for a brief moment, her shape outlined in glowing shadows that definitely weren’t visible to the men running past her hiding place. But of course they weren’t; that was the point.

Cass was the perfect shadow anywhere on Earth, her stealth unparalleled by anything but actual magic, but in Gotham? In Gotham the darkness wrapped her in loving arms, held her close, made sure she was never found.

His baby sister, Gotham’s child even if she’d never been to the city until she was nearly an adult.

More flashes, Dick flying across an alley in Bludhaven (thankfully in his current suit, not the Discowing, which might mean this was the present? Or just that Jason had been seeing him so much more lately that there were just more memories of him like this?), and that made Jason pause.

Bludhaven wasn’t Gotham. That was literally the point. That was why Dick lived there.

And he heard her low chuckle, smoky and soft in his ear.

*Just across the bay, my dear? No, he would have to go so much farther to be free of me, to stop being mine.*

The voice was warm and fond, soft like crushed velvet and so full of affection and pride it tugged at something in Jason’s core.

Something from the little boy who’d watched Robin fly through the air and could barely believe he’d touched the same dream.

Lady Gotham hadn’t moved, her hand still in his in the exact same position, and while he couldn’t see her past the images to know if she’d spoken with mouth or mind he had a feeling he knew. She was in his head, in his heart, and he’d not spoken aloud.

Before Jason would work out how to reply, if he even wanted to reply, his attention was caught by something else in the cascade of images.

A dark spot, not in every scene (at least not that he noticed), but often enough. Something that looked like a shadow, but just a fraction deeper than the rest, a fraction darker, that moved when all the shadows around it were still.

Now that he looked for it he could see it everywhere, the sight of it sending a shiver up his spine that made his hair stand on end. It wasn’t fear; Jason was well acquainted with fear, as little as it bothered him.

This was… tension, anticipation, recognition, the same thing he’d felt when there hadn’t been an Outsiders mission in a while and Roy had decided to hunt him for sport. Something, someone so familiar, with such a strong place in his life, someone he knew was damn capable, setting their sights on him.

(It was always play when Roy did it, a game to keep them both on their toes and get a different kind of training in. Jason didn’t know if Roy ever hunted the others; asking felt like cheating somehow.)

And then suddenly the shadow turned in a different way, its attention locking on to Jason in return and adrenaline shot through him like a bolt of lighting.

It had to be live. Or the shadow knew when someone saw its image. But it had looked back, raising the hair on the back of his neck until it felt like he’d become a Studio Ghibli character, and it was still looking at him.

His hands itched for his guns, the All-Blades, the Fright Gun, and he felt the large, hot hand still holding his tighten for just a second, felt Lady Gotham’s chuckle through his whole body like he was a speaker, and then he was looking at her face again, fond and smiling and larger than life.

“Now now, my sons,” she purred softly, definitely speaking with her mouth this time even if it was just as warm as when he’d heard her in his head, “play nicely.”

Had she been that tall before? She’d been taller than him, certainly, her hand completely enfolding his the way Bruce’s had when Jason had first come off the streets, but now she loomed almost twice as large.

Still holding his hand in hers, only now his was positively dainty, a doll’s hand held by the child who adored it. Her thumb was almost the size of his whole hand, brushing gently over the back.

She could probably snap him in half in an instant.

He’d probably let her.

Her smile spread, reacting to the thought, and her other huge hand came up to gently cup his face, all the pride and love he’d only ever seen from Catherine Todd before.

“My brave little knight…” her eyes closed for a moment and she sucked in a deep breath, her whole body gently expanding as she savoured… something. Then those signal eyes opened and fixed on him, full of lazy satisfaction. “Your belief is so sweet.”

The effect was somewhat spoiled by the traffic cone now pinched effortlessly between two fingers. It hadn’t changed size, which Jason supposed had to be his answer.

She totally wasn’t that big before. And apparently it was his fault? His… belief?

Danny was hovering in the more figurative, mother hen way now (literal not being optional at the moment), and Jason could feel his tension now that he was focused. He’d gotten closer, his aura putting him just behind Jason’s shoulder, but hadn’t gone further.

Not moving between them, which he already had the feeling would have been Danny’s preference after the gala. Jason would tease him about that if he hadn’t already put himself between the stranger and Danny without thinking. At least Danny hadn’t actually done it.

Whether that was because they weren’t in any danger or Danny was waiting for his go ahead didn’t actually matter; Jason couldn’t quite believe either of them would walk away from a fight with Lady Gotham no matter that Danny was the king.

A part of him deeper than the pit knew that she would never fight him. That it was his job to fight for her, to make sure she never dirtied her hands more than the streets already did.

Forcing himself to suck in a breath - and wondering why his lungs ached - Jason gave her hand a hesitant squeeze. Tried not to think about how ludicrously small his hand was tucked into the curl of her fingers.

“Uh… I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but…” he paused, words failing him, and wondered how the actual fuck you were supposed to talk to a whole ass city’s soul all at once.

Lady Gotham laughed softly, giving his cheek (and consequently whole damn head) a gentle pat before pulling away, leaning back to sit as if in an invisible chair and regard him.

“But we’ve known each other from the day you were born,” she agreed gently, her voice still heartbreakingly warm.

No one had ever been so open in their love for him. It all but coloured the air in a rosy pink.

And alright, that was probably at least 90% because his family were in constant contest for Most Emotionally Constipated Soul On Earth and Alfred was British, but Jason still had no idea how to handle it. He had her full, undivided attention, which part of him knew he’d never had in the physical city.

She had so many protectors watching over her, even the crankiest parts of Jason couldn’t begrudge her that. He wasn’t exactly sure he was enjoying it now.

“Ask,” she said softly, gently, the word still echoing around them but in a way that suddenly seemed more enclosed. More private. The echo of a bathroom instead of a grand cavern.

Sucking in another deep breath, Jason realized he had about a thousand questions. But he had to start with the most pressing.

“That shadow, what was it? It was… following the others, all of them. And you called it your son?”

She’d called him her son too, and for the first time since he’d died the word didn’t rankle. But that could be the next question.

The smile she gave him was blatantly approving and she waved a hand gently, a patch of smog in her surrounding cloud suddenly taking on a darker, more solid shape. It wasn’t the shadow itself, there was none of the buzzing adrenaline or life in its movements. Just a facsimile.

He still kind of wanted the All-Blades. Just, y’know, for evil testing.

“Yes, your… brother,” Lady Gotham said slowly, rolling the word over her lips as if tasting it. “That is the Curse of Gotham. Older than the city itself, technically, but before more people came it was simply a malevolence on a patch of land.”

She waved a hand, dispelling the temporarily solidified smog easily.

“It was only once the city was founded, then filled with souls and then despair and superstition and belief that he became a true Curse. As you are mine, the rogues are his. Bearing his mark, flying his flag, putting fear and doubt into every soul as they huddle against the chaos and swear to each other that there is a darkness here like no other.”

Somehow, this did not endear Jason to his “brother”. It didn’t please Danny either, who leaned just a little into Jason’s shoulder, a sudden wariness pinging through his aura.

“Wait, so the curse is older than you? Then why are you…” he trailed off, cheeks flushing suddenly as he asked what Jason was pretty sure was the least important question.

Gotham bestowed him with a gentle, somewhat less fond smile too. Favouritism where he was the favourite kinda make Jason’s skin buzz.

“As I said, it was the city which gave him form. Land can hold a myriad of curses, and any city built here would certainly have felt his affects. But belief…” she paused for a moment, lips pursing as she considered her next words.

Yellow eyes flicked back towards Jason, measuring him, and her smile spread into something distinctly self satisfied.

“Belief matters, for the Neverborn. It’s food and drink, our lifeblood, a source of power. And people believed in Gotham long before they made more than jokes about the curse. No one says that Gotham is on cursed land; they speak of Gotham’s Curse. And so he is mine.”

Jason got the distinct impression that while everything was well established now, it had been more touch and go at one point… close enough that having won was still a point of pride. He didn’t even realize he was smiling back.

It was also probably what she’d meant before… when she’d grown. His belief fed her. Which… kinda meant that him thinking they couldn’t possibly win a fight was a self fulfilling prophecy.

Not quite sure if that was funny or worrying, Jason dismissed the thought and refocused. Some curse was still stalking his family after all, and probably him when he went back to the living world.

“So if this Curse owns all the rogues… is he going to try and hurt the others?” He asked cautiously. Because if none of this was new, the Curse had been stalking them all since they put on the cowls.

How many close calls…

No. Jason hadn’t been in Gotham when Joker got him. He’d thought it was the arrogance of youth that had made him feel invulnerable in Gotham as a Robin, but now he knew there really had been hands hovering over him.

Hands that hadn’t dropped him until he’d left the city. Half the world away and all alone, still sure he was invulnerable… right up until he wasn’t.

He only realized his attention had been drifting when he snapped back, a large and achingly gentle thumb brushing his cheek. Now bigger than his head, still smelling of the smog of the city.

Lady Gotham smiled gently, the dark bats in her eyes crinkling.

“He is no danger to you,” she told him softly, focusing on the question that was asked. Not his wandering thoughts, though he got the feeling she knew anyway.

Drawing back, she looked thoughtfully from him to Danny, taking another drag on her traffic cone, apparently thinking. Held the smogs in for a long moment, until she seemed to come to a conclusion and blew out a long stream.

“The Curse makes the rogues; takes those already on the edge of something bad, and pushes them over. Turns the stagnation of despair into frantic, violent action. It is what he is, what he does… a lingering rot land deep, which feeds on the darkness and breeds more in the souls of Gotham’s inhabitants.”

That definitely sounded like something dangerous to Jason, but who was he to interrupt Gotham herself? A sidelong glance made him wonder if she’d caught that thought too; just how well could she read him?

She waved the smouldering traffic cone in his general direction, blanketing him in a wave of almost comforting black smog.

“And yet, you notice, so few of the rogues seek to permanently remove any of your heroes from the board?”

Danny sucked in a sharp breath beside him, Jason’s heart clenched, but before either could protest, Lady Gotham gave a heavy sigh and inclined her head, smile slipping entirely for the first time.

“The Joker is an unfortunate exception. There is… something worse there, deeper, darker, but I will explain later. For now, consider the others. So many who could, so many chances that they could have taken to kill each of you. I would not allow it, of course, yet even those who wish to see Batman permanently defeated rarely even try to end his life. It is not for no reason.”

There was a true solemnity, almost pain in her face as she spoke of the Joker, eyes fixed on Jason and full of sorrow. Yet nothing in her aura, no push of regret-sadness or anything similar. Nothing to affect his own emotions, and Jason had the feeling that that was deliberate.

As if she knew how much he hated being controlled, pushed around. Or she just… didn’t want to do that to him. It was tough to say, but he was also self aware enough to know he was puzzling that out rather than thinking much about her words.

Of course the Joker was something worse than the fucking Curse of Gotham. Naturally. And y’know what else he was?

Not Jason’s fucking problem right now.

Lady Gotham had paused with him, waiting for his acknowledgment apparently, and Jason gave a stiff nod for her to continue. He’d asked the damn question. He needed to focus on the answer.

A gentle incline of her head the only sign she’d seen anything at all, Lady Gotham continued.

“The Curse will not harm your family, and nor do most of the rogues seek to actually remove you, because your family’s activities are integral to powering the Curse,” she said simply, and that snapped any fragments of Jason’s attention firmly back into place as he stiffened.

Danny tensed beside him as well, still hanging back, but it was Jason who spoke. He didn’t need help on this one.

“Wait, what? How the hell are we helping the Curse?!” He demanded, brows furrowing.

If the Curse made the rogues by taking people on the edge and throwing them off, sure, that kinda made sense. Gotham had always been a cesspit of crime, but it used to be at least 85% less brightly spandex coloured before the Bat came along.

Much as Jason didn’t think Bruce took his mission far enough, he could admit that at least the “normal” gang violence had died down significantly. For one thing, most of the old gangs had been driven out by the rogues, or absorbed by converts like Penguin and Black Mask. There wasn’t much space in Gotham these days for just run-of-the-mill crime.

And Jason himself had gouged a chunk out of what was left, which he used to find extremely satisfying… but how would that help the Curse? Unless… the Curse had pushed that darkness in him…

Lady Gotham shook her head, that fond smile curling sadly at her lips as she reached down to gently tip his chin up with a massive finger.

“No, my dear… you are not helping the Curse. He could no longer exist without you,” she explained softly, the dark and dusty smogs building heavily around them. Just seeing them made Jason’s throat itch…

He clenched his jaw shut, focusing on her face instead. Waiting for that to make some fucking sense.

Lady Gotham hummed thoughtfully, holding his chin a moment longer before releasing him, waving a hand vaguely through the smoggy air.

“It is… contrast. There are no shadows without the light, no sweet without bitterness, no… no hope without despair. And no despair without hope.” She seemed pleased with the metaphor, bat signal eyes bright in suddenly building gloom. Which then fixed on him.

“When people lose hope… when they give up on Gotham, accept the awfulness in their lives as mundane, it drains them of their will, their power to believe. If nothing fights the Curse, pushes back on the tides of corruption, then who’s to say there is a curse at all? Just mundane bad governance. Certainly nothing unique about that, in this world.”

A hand cut through thick black clouds and Jason realized abruptly that he’d lost sight of everything but her eyes, shining in the darkness. And then the shadows spiralled in front of him, whipped by her fingers into a familiar black silhouette.

“But the Bats… the birds, all of Gotham’s caped defenders? No other city in the world could fail to be safe under your constant attentions. No other city could take the stream of wealth and charity Bruce Wayne pours into it and be less than utopian. And yet Gotham remains, a far better city than the one you were born in, but still one of the most dangerous places to live in this country.”

The shadowy bat began to glow, lined in a bright golden light, yet somehow it only made the surrounding shadows all the darker. It swished its cape, striking at invisible foes, and the clouds curled in around it.

“What else but a curse could cause this? And what a powerful curse it must be, with a new vigilante showing every month, and still not a dent?”

The blackness around them grew darker still, the bat’s glow suddenly seeming weak and fragile. Jason’s chest lurched, his heart screaming to reach out and catch the faltering figure, pull it close and keep it safe, but he stamped it down.

It wasn’t Bruce in danger. It was just a light-show, a visual demonstration. And it sure as hell didn’t need his protection.

And then a skewer of pure blackness plunged through its heart and the golden glow winked out, leaving them in pitch darkness.

Jason’s heart clenched, a dread chill running down his spine and he spun around, searching for Lady Gotham and her searchlight eyes, but he couldn’t see anything. Not even Danny, who always glowed faintly in his ghost form.

Still, her voice continued, completely calm and unshakeable.

“If the symbol falls… if the Bat is broken, the Curse will gain a great deal of power for a day. Perhaps a generation. And then people will forget, and forget that they believed, and it will wane once again. A much worse loss, now that he knows the power he can have.”

The billowing clouds of darkness pulled back and the glowing green of the Ghost Zone almost made Jason shield his eyes. They hadn’t moved, of course they hadn’t; Danny was still right beside him, his aura a heavy throb of new understanding-exasperated-mildly amuse.

Which… well, yeah, now that he could breathe again Jason could admit it had all been pretty dramatic. If she was his first ghost, he’d have assumed it was just a Gotham thing, but Danny was also a dramatic little shit, so.

Sucking in a deep breath, Jason blew it out slowly, calming the beating of his heart. Lady Gotham looked quite pleased with herself, still sat reclined a little ways away.

It was one hell of a powerpoint, and he was pretty sure he’d got the gist of things. Not that it made any of this make sense, but it was pretty much what he’d expect from magic.

“So… the Curse makes the rogues, to make people think the city is cursed, but it also wants to keep the vigilantes safe…” a phrase from an old book tugged at his mind, and Jason couldn’t resist a slight smile, “because you gain status by the quality of your enemies?”

It startled a short laugh from Danny, quickly stifled as Lady Gotham beamed her approval.

“In essence, yes. The struggle will be unending, because it must be, but we have come to… an understanding of late. Despair and death feed my Curse in the immediate sense, but when both are only to be expected… it’s a paltry meal. There is inevitability, even boredom, when it’s all despair all the time. So now the city has hope, and I prosper.”

Lady Gotham preened, plumping up her perfectly round curls, the same self satisfied smile she’d had when mentioning how she had become the dominant spirit. Maybe the Curse hadn’t quite worked out just how much she got out of their little understanding too. Then she shrugged.

“And the rogues have their little obsessions, their tricks and games, and sometimes there is despair and sometimes there is death. But what matters is that you are there to fight against it, to nobly win the battle…”

“Even if we’ll never win the war,” Jason finished grimly, his mood souring.

Wasn’t that what he’d always told Bruce? That his damn rules, his “No Killing” standard meant that everything else he did was pointless? That just locking people up in the bloody sieve that was Arkham was never going to change anything?

Lady Gotham’s smile softened to something bittersweet and sad, and she nodded gently.

“Gotham city will never know peace, Jason,” she told him gently, and suddenly she was smaller again, scant feet taller than him, and holding out a hand he’d be able to close his own around. “It will never be like any other city. But the only reason I stand at all is because people like you will look at this city, with its soot and its smuts and its people who have nowhere else to go, and decide that it is worth fighting for.”

Those eyes were fixed on him again, black bats on yellow lights, and then suddenly… suddenly the irises were black, and the bats a familiar deep red. It might have been a blink; it might just have been that sharp moment of change.

“There is one way that the war will end,” she told him softly, stepping closer through the void until he could have counted the pearls skittering across her dress, and every jet bead around them, if he could have looked away from her face.

“On the day that those heroes turn away, that all else give up on Gotham and turn their backs. When no one stands against the tide of night and it is dragged down and away into the dark heart of the Cursed land beneath. It is only hope that stands in the way of that end, my Jason Todd… my Robin.”

His brow furrowed and a fleeting smirk dashed across her lips, the faintest flicker of her gaze to Danny beside him, and Jason understood. It wasn’t Robin’s colours in her eyes, no matter what Damian had done to the suit.

Her Red Hood.

But she wouldn’t out him to Danny, not even now.

His gaze fell to her hand again, suddenly bare and dark and open and nails that were a rich, bloody red. His blood, and Bruce’s, and every vigilante, and every citizen, and every rogue that stood, and fought, and died for her. Every life that was ruined or ended, all in this fight that could never be won, only lost.

He met her gaze again, felt the red bat he’d emblazoned across his chest once more pierce his soul.

Because… this was what it really meant, to wear the bat. Not just that he had forgiven Bruce, that they’d reconciled, that he’d rejoined the family. That he wasn’t going to kill unless he had to, and there was no other choice.

No.

He wore the bat because he wasn’t just the Red Hood, a name he’d stolen from the damn clown and carved across the city in blood until people only thought of him when they said it. He wasn’t the crime lord who’d filled a bag with the heads of his rivals’ best lieutenants, took Crime Alley in a bloody fist, and was just another gang leader. Just a bigger, scarier, nastier guy than the people who’d wanted that alley before to strip mine its people and poison its kids.

And sure, being that guy had worked. It kept the worse gangs out. Kept his street kids fed and occupied, and mostly out of jail. Did what all of Bruce’s crusade had never managed to do; he’d cleaned up Crime Alley.

And it hadn’t been enough.

Hadn’t made anyone feel safe; not when all they had was Red Hood’s whim that kept them from going right back to the mess they’d been left in.

The Alley was different too, this last year. He’d always tried, as Hood and Jason. Wanted people to come together, build a community, to feel safe in their home and protect it.

To feel like someone finally, actually cared about them. That someone cared about Crime Alley for its people, not what they could take from them. That they would be defended.

And people had played along, back before he took the bat. They’d come out, cleaned up the street, fixed up some store fronts and made careful conversation, because that was what you did when the man with the big guns said he wanted you to play nice.

And they’d been wary, cautious, watching the Hood like he’d snap at any second no matter what Jay told them. And he’d known they were just… humouring him. Didn’t believe in it. And he’d thought the only way to get them to see was to keep going, keep giving back until they realized he really meant it all.

He’d patrolled since the first day he’d come back, but it had been the day he’d gone out in his modified uniform, the red bat on his chest, that things finally changed.

His working girls and boys didn’t straighten up when he approached. The street kids didn’t run when his shadow passed overhead. People looked up into the night and they smiled, thanked him, reached out to the gang and left little red bat signs in their windows.

With the red helmet and black body armour, he’d been just another thug to fear. And oh, he’d fucking hated it at first, turned his vision to sickly green that all this acceptance only came with B’s goddamn bat on his chest.

When the kids tagged it on walls, dumpsters, taunting threats at the edge of their territory to every other gang in Gotham, they finally had a bat-approved protector.

Never enough that he’d taken the bat off, though, and now he could see what all those little signs really said.

“We have a protector too.”

“Someone will find justice for us.”

And, his personal favourite (love those little Alley bastards), “Our bat’s bigger than yours.”

Bruce had put the shape on the symbol when he became the night and wanted to drive fear into the hearts of criminals instead of the ordinary citizens, but it wasn’t really his. It was Superman’s S, the symbol of the House of El, the symbol of Lady Gotham turned to something humans could see.

The symbol of a protector, a guardian, and uniquely Gotham’s own.

It was all there, in those red on black eyes, in that soft, knowing smile.

“Have you ever backed down from a fight just because you knew you couldn’t win, Jason Todd?” She asked softly, so softly, and he had to smile back.

She’d known him since the day he was born, and there was only one thing he could say to that.

He took her hand.

“Never.”

——————

LISTEN Y’ALL I HAVE BEEN HOLDING THIS LADY GOTHAM REVEAL SO CLOSE TO THE CHEST.

HER DRESS. HER HAIR. HER GODDAMN TRAFFIC CONE! Anyway she’s wonderful and she’s perfect and she will be back next chapter too, but fuck knows when that will be, so! Hopefully a little less time than this last one, but We Shall See.

This chappy will go up on AO3 tomorrow, I usually try and do same day but I gotta be up early Yet Again and I still…. Haven’t done replies on the last one, so 😅

Wish me luck for the next chapter, I have SO MANY things planned and the outline is just sizzling and we are finally out of introductions territory and it’ll be time for the Plot! Ah, my beloved plot, which will hopefully pick up and speed things along a little more in-fic timewise…

Next Chapter:

Tag List: @welcometosasakiworld @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikkobara @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf f @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake e @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish h @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof f @perfectwastelandcreation @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel @may-rbi @mothman-the-mothman87 @viyatrix @stargirl1331 @idfk-man10 @thedepressedrobin @skulld3mort-1fan @rootsmudge @ravenshadow17 @cankoking @phantom-dc @mentalcarebear @magic-pincushion @redamancyardor @lyra689 9 @itsparadoxlacuna @alcorbearson @asphyxia778 @why-must-i-be-like-this s @tkiesai @greenpyrowolf @frivolous-pastel @honeysuckletook @adorkable1291

#dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp #dcxdp #danny fenton dead and loving it #chapter 17 part 2 #well you did get down on one knee #AND HE’LL DO IT AGAIN #jason 10000% has a worship kink he really just wants to worship someone #danny meanwhile is just a lil freak and i love that for him

184 notes · View notes