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sleepybbie · 10 months

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KOI NO YOKAN | nagi x reader

summary: koi no yokan - the sudden knowledge upon meeting someone that the two of you are destined to fall in love. nagi still remembers the day he met you and the day he fell in love with you.

nagi seishiro x fem!reader

notes: from nagi’s pov! h/c - hair color, h/l - hair length, e/c - eye color, f/n - friend’s name <33

a/n: aaahh i love this man sm ! ૮꒰ྀི⊃´ ꒳ `⊂ྀི꒱ა

nagi still remembers the day he first saw you.

it was during one of his football practices at school. his good friend, reo and his other teammates were practicing as usual on the field, the soccer ball being kicked around—same old, same old. it was a hassle to have practices after school when he could just be at home at the moment, play video games all day and have the most relaxing naps alone at his home.

well now that his life had changed after he met the ambitious mikage son, nagi knew he couldn’t go back to that boring lifestyle he used to have anymore.

“nagi over here, over here…!” he hears reo yell from the side. today’s practice was a 5 on 5 match at hakuho high’s soccer club. nagi nonchalantly yet swiftly kicked the ball towards reo without any second thought in his head except of going home early after today’s game. when reo caught the ball, the purple haired boy ran towards the goal, confusing the enemy side with his small dribbling tricks to attempt to distract them, and passed it to a nearby teammate.

nagi almost let out a loud grunt when that same teammate that reo passed to, kicked the ball so high it went out of the field in full speed. “it’s out! someone catch it before it hits somebody!” someone beside reo yelled. reo looked over at nagi and shouted, “nagi quick! get it!”

what a pain…

his legs now running with speed, nagi’s eyes glued to the floating ball failed to notice people standing in his direction. including a group of friends who were now running out of the way. the ball was now heading towards someone..he picked up the pace a little.

“y/n watch out!” a call of somebody’s name echoed into his ears before nagi jumped up high and caught the ball within seconds with his feet. thank goodness he got it just in time, or else it would’ve already hit the person in front of him. the moment he stopped the ball, it was if he managed to stop time, too. nagi’s grey orbs scanning down to see a face just right below him.

a girl

her eyes were looking back at him, filled with surprise and amazement. his white bangs flowed along with the rhythm of the cold wind that hit his face, he could see her properly from his vision. h/c h/l hair, her eyes were a hue of e/c pupils. at that same split second, the earth created a collision between two people for their first meeting, much more different than fate walking pass by—like a painter touching a skin of a canvas for the first time in order to create a masterpiece.

the ball stopped, and nagi swiftly landed on the ground, trying to push himself as much as possible to not hit the girl on his way. kicking the ball back up, nagi kicks the ball back into the field and watches as reo takes it and slammed the ball towards the goal, earning another point for their team. 3-0, it was slightly unfair. there were yells from that same area—saying how that pass was even possible. though, mostly everyone knows hakuho high’s crazy soccer duo.

nagi places both of his hands on his hip, letting out a sigh before he faces the person standing behind him. she’s still there, looking scared of what just happened. “uhmm…” he began, “are you alright?”

she winces. odd..he was at least twice the times taller than her figure. although he knows that there were other girls shorter than her in this school, she was just one of them. “oh…! uhh, yes i’m ok. t-thank you for saving me..” she says, giving nagi a short bow. a shy type of student? she seems to stutter easily upon talking. nagi raises a brow, a little perplexed, “it’s not much of a big deal, anyways…i wouldn’t really call that saving..”

the girl blinks her eyes twice and she chuckles, seeming unbothered of what just happened. she had a nice smile, warm and stitched beautiful across her kind expression. he changed his mind, was this girl the calm type? she’s certainly showing no concern of the trouble his teammate made (and he had to stop it for him). thinking about someone’s facial expression is such a bother, why is he even thinking of it?

“i’m honest. if it weren’t for you i would’ve got hit. so, thank you so much,” she says, quite in a soft tone. maybe she was the soft-hearted type..? she looks studious. she’s probably smart, too. at this point, nagi feels like he’s already judging a person based on their looks, but he couldn’t help it.

“eh..like i said, ‘s not much of a big de—

“y/n! ugh, thank goodness you’re ok!” the sentences were cut off soon when the person who was with her (who is probably her friend) ran straight to her side, concerned expressions on her face as her hands clutch onto her shoulders, shaking them.

“i-i’m fine, f/n..! i didn’t get hit i swear..!”

“i know but still…!” her friend looked over to nagi’s direction, and the snowy haired boy knew he was going to get an earful by this random chick who was defending her best friend. maybe if he just sneaked off, then he’ll be safe..? “hey nagi, could you and your team kindly stop kicking the ball so hard?? you guys could’ve hit someone, y’know?!” she began, and nagi immediately discarded his short plan. yeah, he’s used to this by now.

“oi are you listening?!”

‘ugh, so noisy, what a hassle..and how does this girl even know my name? do i know her?’

“ahh..! f/n! i’m sorry, sorry. about my teammate kicking the ball out of the field,” well about time his savior arrived. nagi watches as reo appeared out from behind and nervously raised both of his hands up as a stop gesture to back the girl named f/n up away from the sleepy genius. f/n scoffs, “reo…hey, it would be appreciated if you tell your team to calm down with the ball or else it would’ve hit y/n right here. if it weren’t for this guy then i’d be seeing her at the infirmary room.”

this girl is so loud, nagi thinks. compared to the girl he just saved from the soccer ball. f/n mentioned her name is…y/n? huh..

“i’m really sorry again. i’ll tell that to them. i’m sorry, too, y/n. i hope it didn’t scare you much.”

“like i said, it’s ok…! you don’t need to apologize, reo. i’m fine, see?”

oh, his friend knows y/n, too.

“reo, you know them?” nagi questions. reo looked over at nagi and raises his brow, looking puzzled. f/n had an offended look over her face while y/n just giggled. did he say anything wrong? he’s sure he asked him right.

“nagi…these two are our classmates..”

nagi blinks. “oh…really?”

“the hell do you mean, really?!” f/n shouts at him, obviously pissed. maybe he should stop sleeping in class all the time…or sneak off during recess to play..? yet again, reo is always finding ways to look for him at break hours.

reo sighs as he rolled his eyes. “calm down…he’s always like this. c’mon nagi, let’s go back to practice. we got another match next week.”

“mm..”

“you better keep your word, reo..! let’s go, y/n,” f/n uttered to the purple haired male, reo waves off as a response while nagi still stood there. f/n calmly took y/n’s hand and walked off the opposite direction, dragging her along.

“ah..! bye nagi…! thank you once again..!” y/n waves to him, with a smile. and then the two friends left.

nagi was a little surprised. it was the first time a girl said goodbye like that to him…exception of his other female relatives and his mom. a classmate of his.

nothing else to say, he raises his hand up, waving back. “bye..?” his voice was soft, only he could hear it, as if there was a lump trapped between his throat.

that was strange

he remembers the first time he had a long chat with you.

it was when reo held a study group for the upcoming exams their school was having. everyone knew how smart the mikage’s son is, so they immediately asked him if he could help them with tutoring. who was he to say no?

however, reo wanted to drag nagi along as well for the group study session. nagi at first, declined; saying it was too much of a bother to even study for an exam (even if it was an upcoming long test) and that he was far too tired to come with them (not to mention a whole group of students he doesn’t know is coming, too). it took the lazy male awhile to just say ‘yes’ to the rich boy after what seemed like an hour of endless pleading for him to tag along. the only reason why nagi decided to, is because reo made a solution of doing the study session at a huge cafe that was nearby an arcade shop.

once the group was ready to stroll, nagi stayed far behind from them as mostly every student talked to reo while walking towards the cafe, he just walked, being occupied by his phone.

“oh! reo, f/n said that they’ll follow by. what cafe are we going to, again? gotta tell her so she’ll know where we’re studying.”

“oh, just the cafe 20 minutes near our school beside the arcade store. tell her and she’ll know.”

oh shit…nagi remembers her. the girl that gave him the stink eye when the soccer ball almost hit…

‘what was her name again…?’ nagi’s thoughts began to sink in wonder. oh right…her name is y/n. it’s been a long time since nagi last saw her. so y/n’s friend was coming by to the study group…great, looks like god wasn’t on his side today. he’s a 100% sure she’ll be irritated if she saw him there at the same table.

when the group entered the cafe, reo easily booked them a large table where all could sit beside one another without any problems. everyone cheered for him. nagi wasn’t able to sit besides reo since it seems like he was seated between two girls who were calling over for his attention, asking how this formula works or how to solve this problem in the most ear screeching voice nagi could ever hear. maths was hell, and reo was a master of all subjects in their class.

it was around 1:58pm when their group studying began. nagi barely paid any attention to what reo was tutoring to them. he’s silently playing on his phone that was well hidden under the desk, while his classmates focused on their books in hand. when he finds reo to be distracted with the tutoring, nagi decided to pretend to excuse himself to go to the bathroom; when he’s really planning to visit the arcade next door instead. the snowy haired male wasn’t interested in the study anyways.

he finds himself going outside the cafe and hurriedly rushed to the arcade door, where at first enter was a glance of neon lights and game-like explosions blasting from the inside. nagi’s eyes sparkled from the sight of one of his favorite games at one of the arcade stalls nearby, he had enough quarters with him, maybe playing a few rounds wouldn’t hurt.

the thing that was a pain, is that there were many players on line. as in many. the game had its reasons of why it was going popular today, and nagi knew that very well.

‘such a hassle…there’s so many people in line…better if i exchange a few quarters first just in case..’ he thoughts to himself as he heads towards to one of the employers in the arcade arena. the aisle was surrounded by a lot of people possibly his age, and some half of them were loving couples who were comfortable enough to flirt with one another in public. displaying affection in areas like this is enough to make nagi sick.

next to him were crane machines (and players throwing slight tantrums when the stuffed animal went back down), ticket counters, and racing car games. his eyes darted everywhere, trying to look for a few exchanges for his whole dollar yen until he spotted a figure in front of one of the crane machines.

h/l h/c hair..a short figure…and the reflection of the glass from the crane game.

oh..!

it was her

her hands were manoeuvring over the crane’s handle, focusing on what stuffed animal she plans to get. however, the stuffed bunny fell back down to where it came from, and he hears y/n groan in dismay. nagi finds himself watching her attempt to get the stuffed bunny for at least two more rounds. although, in those two rounds, the poor girl still wasn’t able to get the stuffed toy she wanted. her pout made her look like a toddler. nagi had no idea how long he was gazing at y/n till he failed to notice she was already turning around and saw him. she jumped in surprise.

“ah..! n-nagi-san..?! is that you??”

“oh…hey,” was all he replied, very casually. y/n’s face shifted into a look of puzzlement, holding her school bag tight in her palms as she tilted her head, “what are you doing here? i thought you were part of reo’s study group..”

“eh..got bored. decided to drop by here instead. what’re you doing here?”

she giggles. “aha, you’re…very blunt and straightforward about it. i’m here because f/n-chan is part of the study group..isn’t reo going to be angry if he finds out you’re here..?”

he shrugs, “don’t know. but i know reo, so i trust he won’t. i think..” he thinks. he’s been playing with the purple haired boy for almost 4 months now, and his talent being used as an instrument for soccer and for his and reo’s dream to bring home the world cup…nagi just wishes he would know how to study expressions more. but now…reo wasn’t with him, instead there’s this girl (who is his classmate at school), looking over at him with a curious stare.

“don’t worry. i’ll talk to him out of this if he did.”

“ah…ok, i see..”

“by the way, are you having trouble getting that plush bunny at the crane machine?”

“eh..?? so you’ve noticed..”

“ ‘ts easy. don’t know why you have such a hard time..”

“i-i’m not an expert..!”

“mm..then, i’ll give it a try..”

“you will..??”

“mm..”

nagi wasn’t quite sure what had gotten into him when he decided to take over the controller of the crane machine, however he did know is that he easily won the bunny plushie for y/n, who gave him the most softest and widest smile he has ever seen. reo had beamed at him like that before, in fact he was the first one who had ever shown nagi appreciation and like towards the boring genius. but, something about how y/n did seemed…a little odd.

“that was amazing..! you did it with no hesitation..!”

“like i said, ‘ts easy..all you have to do is find the right angle and press the button to grab it.”

“how are you able to find the perfect angle so easily though?? nagi-san you must have sharp eyes.”

“you ask a lot of questions..”

“ah! sorry!”

and the next thing he knew, he was sitting next to her at one of the dining tables, licking on an ice cream while y/n continued to talk a lot about her interests. in return, nagi told her about him and reo, and at first y/n mistaken the two of them as a couple due to how close they were. the only reply nagi gave was ‘cringe.’

“i’m not interested in getting into a relationship…sounds like a drag to always have quality time with them just because you like them..”

“though, not quality time is always required in a relationship, nagi-san. there are other languages in love, too…i heard..”

“is that so? well that’s even more of a bother…”

having such a conversation like this with a girl…nagi has no idea what was coming to him.

he didn’t know how long they started talking to one another. all he knew, was that he helped her win a stuffed animal in some boring crane machine, and she followed him when he began to play the game he waited for, and watched him beat every player lined up, then, the two of them went to a dining table at the side and ordered ice cream. however, their convo with one another was cut short when f/n bursted inside the arcade along with reo, and spotted the two of them together eating. reo had this fizzled expression on his look, his face having questions of what the two of them were doing together, while f/n was surprised her best friend was with someone like nagi.

“oh! nagi-san, before we part, do you have line?”

nagi felt his shoulders weigh down a bit. “line id? uhh…yeah.”

“let’s exchange ids…is it ok? i…i wanna keep talking to you.”

head empty, nagi wasn’t sure what to reply for that while her best friend seems to be staring at him intensely.

“mm…sure.”

well, at least it was you who made the first move…nagi thinks to himself.

weird

he will never forget the day…in which the day he fell in love with you.

the news of the blue lock staff members giving the bllk-11 team the order of having a vacation after defeating the u20 team brought excitement over to nagi’s head. he missed his home, ahh he also missed his cactus, he misses his warm bed and…

‘ah…why am i thinking of y/n again..?’

once he got all his stuff back, nagi made the decision of jumping on his mattress and take a nap when he’s back home. he was fetched home by one of the blue lock buses, he bid farewell to the friends he made along the way during the (hellish) soccer project, and by the time he reaches his door, nagi was happy to find choki back all healthy on his window still.

probably ba-ya was the one who returned choki. he did leave it on her hands after all. then again…he remembered what he told reo back during their match alongside isagi and barou. nagi couldn’t help but give out a small sigh once he looked over choki.

‘such a drag…thinking too much is a hassle..’

he left his stuff on the ground before jumping on his bed and bringing out his phone. the weather was nice…comfortable even. the perfect weather where he can do nothing but sleep the entire day away.

if that’s the case…why is he suddenly looking for y/n’s contact number?

when the other line rung, he can hear her picking up the phone, her breath shaky on the side.

“y/n?”

“ah..! nagi-san, sorry if i picked up late!”

“eh..? that was a quick pick up than i expected, y’know..?” she… still sounded the same. during the match with u20, he could actually see her at one of the stalls of the audience along with her friends. he wanted to wave hi, nagi wanted to talk to her even like before after the game. he just didn’t know he only had the courage now to make a call. come to think of it, why did he even call her on the first place?

“ehe…sorry, i was cleaning my room. ah.! also, congrats on your team’s win. i’m so happy for you and reo!”

he frowns. “mm, thanks..”

“how is he by the way? i was texting him after the game but…he’s not responding. is he alright?”

nagi thinks of himself as someone who would just cast everything away aside so that it wouldn’t be a problem for him (or as he’d like to call it, be more of a bother to him). so, he’s so confused on why he’s telling y/n everything of what happened to him at blue lock, what happened between him and reo, and the rush he felt during the progress of becoming the world’s best striker. he was letting all of his feelings out…to nobody but y/n.

y/n listens attentively, humming on every detail he said. giving feedback of what she thinks…comforting him on the other side of the phone.

what nagi didn’t know the most, of why his heart was beating so fast right now.

more…he wanted to talk to her more..

he didn’t even realize it began to rain outside his window. the snowy haired male didn’t realize either he was talking to her for so long. nagi isn’t a chatty person, everyone knows his stoic and unbothered behaviour, however when it came to y/n..he just doesn’t know what’s going on with himself anymore.

nagi feels warm.

“nagi-san…are you ok?” y/n’s voice was soft, like a whisper. she sounded concerned, worried. nagi’s eyes dropped to the cushion of his bed, staring at his socks—feeling the rain patter hard on the window next to him, and his grey eyes painted with a natural dull cover.

“yeah..” is all he replied. “..m just feeling a bit tired. that’s all.”

“i see…i’m glad you called. i was also planning to call you. i just decided to tidy up around first before doing so, yet i didn’t expect you’d call me first..aha..” y/n says, letting out a soft giggle. nagi could hear her adjust her phone, the sound of soft pillows rummaging on the other side. she was probably laying down on her bed right now as it rained.

“you know…after your game against the u-20 team…i wanted to see you.”

just like the moment when reo looked up to him and his boring demeanor, when he first made the scoring goal against the u-20, when he managed to trick rin itoshi back at blue lock…nagi felt like his heart beating ten times faster now. the world pauses for a second, he couldn’t hear the rain outside anymore, only the sound of his heartbeat echoing through. the feeling of warmth that he felt when talking to her…it seemed to be increasing so much he feels the tip of his ears turning red.

this is a new feeling to him. not like any soccer match or anything involved with reo and his other friends, no. all of this fuzzy emotions building up inside of his stomach…all new. there was silence over the phone.

“u-umm..sorry, that was a strange thing to say, isn’t it?”

nagi fixed his posture a little, pulling a pillow close to his chest. “nah…well, maybe a bit. it isn’t much of a bother though.”

badump

“oh really..? well i’m glad then! i thought i might’ve said something awkward…sorry, you were just silent for a moment there i thought you were feeling odd about what i said.”

badump

he hugs the pillow tighter. “no.. ‘s fine..i was just surprised you wanted to talk and see someone like me. you and reo are weird.”

badump

“e-eh? only? i’m really sorry then!”

badump..

“but really though, i really hope you and reo get along again soon. you two are so well known in our school..! popular even, i overhear the girls in the bathroom that you two are amazing that you guys brought a powerhouse school down!”

stupid fucking heart..why do you keep beating so fast? you’re just talking to a girl.

the rain fell a little fainter, although the melodies of his heart didn’t seem to stop whenever y/n continued to talk on the phone. his bangs covered his eyes, only listening to her soothing tone of her sweet voice. she sounded pretty…so fucking pretty.

“hey..” nagi suddenly cuts her off. this strange sensation rubbing through his chest. y/n obliged, and immediately went quiet. “hm?”

“i think i like you.”

maybe he was the strange one after all.

#nagi x reader #seishiro nagi #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi seishiro #blue lock #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #lily’s.blog🌸#lily’s.fic🩷

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auteurdelabre · 4 months

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Please Mister Miller? Part 4 Mean!Joelxf!Reader

rating: explicit, 18+ mdni

summary: after your last interlude with Joel you told him that you owe him one... Today he comes to collect.

warnings/tags: Infidelity, Unprotected p in v, oral sex [m and f receiving], Mean Joel, Dirty Talk, almost caught, voyeurism, Riding Cowgirl, exhibitionism, nicknames (good girl, slut)

word count: 3.5k

a/n: Y'all, I did a filthy PWP one-shot and I got comments requesting it be a series and because I can’t deny ya’ll anything, here’s some more filth that I'm still shocked I wrote. Comments and the like really make my day.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

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Lights with Mister Miller

"You gotta tell them about Charlie," you tell Sarah as you start folding your clothes into your suitcase. You're leaving in a couple days, much to your chagrin. You don't know how you're going to go back to life without Joel and this illicit game you’ve been playing.

"I can't," Sarah says quietly, leaning against her bed frame. "He's like six years older than me. My dad'll freak."

You fight to hold back a laugh.

"But you like him."

"I really do.” Sarah gives a sad sigh, eyes downcast. "But I know my dad won't like him. Won't think he's good enough for me because he didn't finish college."

"I don't think that your dad would be that unfair."

"You don't know my dad," Sarah says with a sad smile. "He can be pretty harsh."

You think of Joel's hand on your ass, of him fucking brutally into your mouth and this time a giggle does bubble forth from your lips. Sarah quirks a brow at you.

"What?"

"You’re a grown woman," you tell her, trying to tamp down your grin. "And you're scared of telling your daddy you have a boyfriend."

"I'm not scared," Sarah insists. "It's just... I don't wanna disappoint him."

"I get that," you say honestly. "But Sarah I don't think he's the kind of dad that would be like that."

No, in your mind Joel Miller is the type that kissed scraped knees and played tea party. The kind of dad who Sarah could call if a party went too late or she felt lonely during her freshmen year.

"Maybe you're right," Sarah relents.

You roll your freshly washed socks into a ball, tucking them into the corner of your bag. You think of his mouth between your legs yesterday and feel your entire body prickling with desire.

You owe him one.

You can't stop thinking about that. You owe Joel one and he all but agreed. He also called you baby last time.

The thought makes you feel heady, your nipples constantly tightening when he enters a room. Your pussy flooding when he nods at you in the hallway.

You haven't been able to be alone with him for days. Sarah is always around or if she's gone its Tess. Your vacation is almost over and you're fucking aching for him.

So when Sarah goes to see her secret boyfriend and you see Joel standing in the kitchen with his muscled arms crossed over his chest you can't help but brush up against him, ass dragging against his front pretending it's necessary in order to slide by him. Joel stiffens, sweeping a hand over his mouth.

"Can't behave for one afternoon."

"C'mon now," you say, grinning up at him. "Do you really like it when I behave, Mister Miller?"

You're being playful, but the darkening of his eyes makes butterflies begin in your tummy.

You go to grab a mug of coffee, noticing Tess working outside on the deck, her hands digging through tangled Christmas lights. You give a friendly wave that she returns before she's turned back to digging in the lights box.

You jolt, almost spilling your coffee when you feel Joel's calloused hand snaking up your shirt, coming to cup a breast, fingers rolling the nipple.

"You never wear a bra," he breathes against your ear.

"Not here," you confess leaning back into his embrace. "I like how hard you get when they bounce for you."

Joel gives a quiet groan.

"Wanna see 'em."

"What? Now?" Your eyes blow wide and you step back from him, nipples hard and jutting through your t-shirt.

"She's organizin' the lights outside," Joel murmurs, his dark eyes taking in your thin t-shirt and figure hugging jeans. "Can't see anything behind the island."

You glance over your shoulder to see that Tess is still turned away from you, untangling lights. Joel's breathing is coming out more shallow, the pink in his cheeks returning. He’s got that hungry look in his eyes that makes you wet just to see.

"You owe me one," Joel says as he tugs you by the wrist to him. "Remember? Said you'd be a good girl and let me fuck you anywhere. N'I wanna fuck your mouth right here."

"It's too dangerous," you whisper, feeling anxiety bloom in you for the first time since you started all of this. "We'll be caught."

"Thought that's what you liked," Joel murmurs. He glances to make sure Tess is still distracted before his hand is on your shoulder, pressing down gently.

"Now be a good girl for me and get on your knees."

He's rock hard through his jeans, his body like a furnace. You think of denying him but you have to admit that the risk is what makes this so hot.

You slide to your knees between he and the kitchen island, your hands going to his zipper. He stands there watching you, dark eyes taking in everything. You pause, hearing Tess move outside.

"Keep goin'," he drawls, eyes on the window. "She's still just untanglin'."

You pull him from his jeans, hard and already a bead of precome waits for you. You swipe your tongue along the head, swallowing the salty taste.

"You taste so good, Mister Miller," you whisper up at him. Joel shivers, teeth clenched as you stare up at him.

"Lemme see those tits," he rasps roughly.

You grin, pulling the fabric up and letting your tits spill out beneath your tight shirt. They hang there, nipples tight and puckered.

"Touch 'em."

You cup them, kneeling there against the island. You stare up at him, beaming as you do.

"Dirty girl on her knees, tits out for me," Joel mumbles, eyes glittering. "So eager to have me fuck her mouth."

You nod, eyes bright. All of a sudden Joel's attention is outside and you see him smiling.

"Nice job, baby."

"You like em?" Tess' voice is muffled through the glass.

"They're perfect."

Tess rustles something outside and Joel takes this opportunity to grip his thick member in his broad hand. He guides it to your mouth, dragging it along your cheek, smearing precome along in some debauched glossy trail.

He drags it along your lower lip, mouth parted in anticipation.

"Tongue."

You let your tongue hang out obediently for him. He grunts gently as he taps his heavy cock against it before withdrawing, tracing along your lips luridly. You whimper softly as he teases you.

"Please can I have it in my mouth?"

"You think you deserve it?"

"Uh huh," you nod. "Remember how good it felt in your bed? Fucking my mouth then?"

Joel stiffens, cock pulsing against your lips. He's waiting for you to make the next move, but you want him to do it. That way he's choosing it.

"Did it turn you on that I did it in the bed you share with your wife?" You ask sweetly, tongue coming to lick a gentle line along the head. "Or was it that it was a college girl who you filled with your cock?"

"The fucking mouth on you," Joel growls. And before you can do anything more he's hooked his finger along your bottom teeth and forced your jaw open. He thrusts his cock into your mouth, groaning softly as he hits the back of your throat.

Suddenly his hands are on the counter and his voice is controlled, soft even.

"Those ones might need to be replaced."

"I thought we could get those led ones people are talking about," Tess observes through the glass.

You pull off of him, nervous that she'll see your bobbing head. Terrified she'll catch you with a mouthful of her husband's fat cock.

"That could look good but they'll be a little less warm in color," Joel offers, hips shifting.

"Yeah but they'd save a lot of energy."

You think that Joel will wait until the boring conversation is over, but no. His left hand drifts under the counter casually and comes to the back of your head, urging you forward to swallow his cock again.

If you’re caught it's all his fault.

You do so without question, starting to suck. Satisfied, Joel's hand goes back onto the counter, folded with the other one. He looks contemplative as he listens to Tess observe the merits of LED lights.

"That's my good girl," Joel murmurs, eyes on the window as he nods at Tess but speaks to you. "You take it deep, wanna feel it in your throat."

You take more of him into your mouth, hearing as his hands go to grip the edge of the counter. He can't thrust, it would be too obvious. But he wants to, you can feel it.

He pulls back after a moment, looking down with a pinched expression.

"Stop," he growls. "She's coming to the back door."

You feel him tense, his voice loud so that Tess can hear outside, so close to coming in the sliding door. From that angle she can see more of the island. You wonder if she can catch a glimpse of Joel's cock hanging outside his jeans, achingly stiff and glossy with your spit.

"There's some dead bulbs near the... Yeah, you see em?" Joel asks voice a little tight. "I can get some new ones tomorrow. Can you gather those ones up baby?"

Tess is saying something back but it's muffled from the glass. She and Joel continue their conversation but all you can focus on is Joel's cock still wet with your saliva inches from your mouth.

It's not fair that you should have to wait. Your lower lip grazes the tip and you feel him jerk. His left hand comes under the counter to wave you away.

"Yeah I'll go to the store tomorrow," Joel says to Tess. "Sarah's friend said she had to mail some stuff off so I'll take her and maybe she can help me find a new set."

"Good idea."

You feel your eyes blowing wide. Joel is actually making excuses to be alone with you? Fuck you're so turned on at the thought.

Your face darts forward to take him into your mouth, drooling out the corners. He shudders, hips canting towards you briefly.

"Mhmm," Joel groans. "I like the colorful sets."

His hand is back under the island, gripping your chin and urging it to open further, forcing himself deeper into your mouth. Tess must be turned away because he looks down at you. He groans when he sees you there on your knees, mouth stuffed full of him, tits hanging out.

"Dirty girl," Joel murmurs, catching himself before he starts to ramble. "You wet?"

You give a muffled yes, your mouth stretched wide to fit all of him.

"Knew you would be. Go on and play with your pussy while you suck me off," Joel murmurs. He's surprised when you shake your head and he pulls his cock from your mouth.

"Wanna this to be about you," you explain, tongue flattening to lick him like a dripping popsicle. "You took care of me yesterday. Just wanna make you come, Mister Miller."

"Jesus," Joel whistles. "Where the fuck did you come from?"

You blush under his heated gaze. He widens his stance, face twisted in amusement.

"Go on then."

You're about to when something occurs to you and you press a kiss to the rosy head of Joel's weeping cock.

"Your wife do this for you?" You ask, curious, dragging your lower lip along the head as Joel shivers. "She swallow your cock? You come in her mouth?"

Joel shakes his head sharply, frowning. Now you know why he's so obsessed with getting his cock sucked. He doesn't get any. You lick the underside, tongue twisting over the ridges as Joel’s eyelids flutter.

"You eat her pussy like you ate mine yesterday, Mister Miller?"

Joel flushes, shaking his head again, this time looking chagrined.

"Then you really have no one to blame but yourself," you tell him, mouth curving around the head.

You'll never understand men who complain about not getting head when they never give it. If he hadn't made you come on his tongue twice yesterday you'd consider letting him hang there hard and unfulfilled.

"You're good at eating pussy," you tell him. "Should show your wife what she's been missing."

He goes to say something but you've begun taking him all into your mouth again, your tongue warm and wet. His hips try to remain still, but they feel loose as you hollow your cheeks, sucking him.

"Fuck, my good girl knows how to suck cock so well," Joel murmurs, eyes growing heavy lidded.

You smile around his cock, living for the way he's starting to sound drunk. His words thick in his mouth, his body loose. You can tell he's feeling good, he's getting close. Your hand goes to the front of his jeans, holding the denim under your grip and bobbing your head.

"What about these ones?" Tess asks through the glass and you can see the lights blink on and off, reflected against Joel's white shirt.

"Those look so good," Joel slurs. "So good, baby."

He's so close. You can hear it in his voice, in the clenching of his thighs. You bring your hand to the base of his cock and begin stroking him as you suck.

"Okay I think I'm almost done," Tess says cheerfully from outside. "Just one more strand. Whadda ya think of these ones, Joel?"

She must hold them to the window at the same time your tongue flicks the head of his cock lightly, a moan escaping you when you feel Joel's cock twitch in your mouth.

"Fuck yeah," Joel groans out.

You feel him spill into your mouth, coating your tongue with his warm spend. He's nodding at Tess, hips shifting to fuck your mouth.

"Fuck yeah, baby," Joel exclaims, slamming his hand against the counter as he comes. "That's exactly what I wanted."

You swallow every drop, mouth curling into a smile that he doesn't see. He's smiling at his giggling wife and you're shocked when you feel a stab of jealousy go through you at the sight.

"I've never seen you get so into lights before."

"They look so good," Joel punches out as you lick him clean. "I love ‘em."

"Well I love you, Joel."

You frown, eyes downcast as they speak sweetly to one another through the window. For some reason this doesn't feel as fun as before.

You wait for Joel to put himself back into his jeans and for Tess to turn away before you scurry away back to the guest room.

///

You tell Sarah you're concerned that you're coming down with a cold and stay in the guest room for the rest of the day. You just don't want to have to look at Joel and Tess, to see the way he gazes at her.

Sarah comes by to check on you a few times, concerned. She tells you about her time with Charlie and how they're so in love. Seems everyone is so in love these days.

You have a long, warm shower and crawl into bed, hair still damp. You read your shitty romance novel that you bought for the trip and you eventually fall asleep.

You wake up what must be hours later considering how dry your hair is. There's a gentle creaking and low voices coming from the room next door.

Joel's room.

You can't help but be intrigued. Their bedroom has been very quiet since you arrived. You roll over closer to the wall, pressing your ear there and holding your breath.

You hear it, the unmistakable sound of Joel's groans, but muffled as he kisses his wife.

"Shhh," Tess giggles breathlessly through the wall. "Sarah's friend will hear!"

"Nah she won't," Joel rumbles. "These walls are thick. 'Sides, she's asleep."

You hold your breath, eyes wide in the darkness. You listen to them kiss for what feels like forever, prickles of jealousy stabbing you all over. You listen as he fingers her to climax and you feel your thighs tightening, pressing together a slick accumulates there.

You think you'll manage. You think it's possible that this will be over soon but then there's a new sound. A wet, kissing sound but Tess is mewling, her voice high and reedy.

"Joel... Your tongue!"

He's going down on her. Just like you told him to.

Tess is whimpering his name, trying to be quiet. But you're bed is pressed against the wall tight. You hear every gasp, every moan every shudder as she begs him to go faster.

"Patience, baby.”

At the sound of Joel's voice low and syrupy your fingers thrust under your sleep shorts, sliding along your slippery clit. You arch immediately, ear pressed tightly to the wall.

"Why have we never done this before?" She cries out, breathless. "Feels so fucking good."

"Dunno," comes Joel's rumbled response. Then he must be licking and sucking because Tess is groaning.

You hear the bed creak as she arches, and you can imagine her thighs trembling around his ears. The bed starts to knock into the wall, thudding loudly beside your head.

"C'mon baby," Joel murmurs. "Come on my tongue like a good girl."

The way he says good girl curls around your abdomen, pulling the orgasm from you. Even though it's not meant for you, even though his mouth buried in his wife's cunt, you feel your entire body go rigid and then you come with a whimpering moan.

"Did you hear something?" Tess asks and you slap a hand over your mouth, tilting your head away from the wall.

Joel's voice is low and measured. "Nope."

"Joel lemme do the same for you," you hear Tess panting through the walls after she comes. "You just made me feel so fucking good."

"Nah baby," you can hear Joel panting. "Wanted to just make you feel good tonight. As a thank you for all you did to make Christmas special this year."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

“Okay, well I'm gonna go have a shower."

"Okay."

You feel so jealous right now you could scream. Tess gets to sleep beside Joel after her shower. She gets to have his arms around her, bodies warm under the blanket. And now she gets to come on his tongue whenever she wants because of your big mouth!

You glance up when a shaft of light falls over the bed. The door is closed softly and before you can turn a figure crawls onto the bed next to you. A large hand covers your mouth and a familiar scent floats over you: soap and wood shavings.

Your nightgown is being dragged up and his hand is going between your legs, feeling your release from earlier.

"I fucking knew it," Joel rasps quietly in your ear. "Knew I heard you."

You try to shrug him off, irritated for some unknown reason. But then you feel his cock, still hard in the small of your back.

"Saved my come for you," Joel says into your neck. "Wanted to paint this pussy."

He pulls your thigh up over his, pressing himself inside you from behind as he holds you against him. You've never fucked like this, side by side. You wish you could see him.

"Gotta do this quick," he rasps, sliding his palms along the smooth of your legs as he starts to pump into you. He immediately stops when the rhythmic creaking of the bed begins.

"Fuck."

He pulls off the bed abruptly loosening you. You think he's leaving and you twist to face him. But he's standing there beside your bed, naked and stroking himself and casting furtive looks at the door. The shower is still running.

"Floor."

You scramble off the bed, falling to your knees into the carpet as he slips down to lay on his back. Before he can ask you’re perching over his abdomen.

"Please let me ride you?"

He nods, stretching his arms out behind his head.

"Go on and bounce on it like a good girl."

And you do. Despite everything you ride him hard, your knees rubbing against the carpet as you rise and fall on his cock. You work fast, knowing that Tess could be done at any second.

Joel watches all of this with glittering eyes, his wide hands coming to spread your thighs wider so he can see your clit glossy and buried in the wiry hairs at the base of his cock.

"There she goes," he rasps quietly with a wolfish grin up at you. "C'mon baby. Take my come. Saved it all for you."

You hold back the groans of your second orgasm, covering your mouth with your hand. Joel follows quickly after, hands on your hips, slamming his cock up into you as he holds you in place.

You feel him release into you, warm spurts that make him shudder a groan between your breasts, his mouth kissing there before he pulls back.

You move off of him, legs shaky. He pulls back the covers of the bed, watching you nestle in there.

"You go to sleep with my come inside you like a good little slut," he whispers huskily in your ear. "Tomorrow I have a treat planned for us."

He kisses your temple much to your surprise and delight. He sneaks out back to the bedroom just as the squeak of the shower ceases.

You drift off to sleep then, thoughts of Joel and his mouth invading your dreams, haunting them.

#fanfiction #joel miller x reader #smut #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller #fanfic #joel miller x you #dad joel miller #mean!joel #pwp #barely any plot

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dungeonpuppykai · 4 months

Text

|| Shackles of Love ||

Summary: Your husband Pete reads the epilogue of the book you're on and there's only one way to keep him from spoiling it for you now…

Pairing: Dark Husband!Pete Brenner | Naive Wife!You.

Disclaimer: I (unfortunately) do not own Pete Brenner. This story contains dark and mature content so browse at your own discretion, please. Minors do not interact.

Warning(s): Soft-dark!Pete Brenner, non-con/dub-con elements, boob play, humping, stockholm syndrome, age-gap, m!dom, f!sub, power imbalance, housewife kink, misogyny, bondage/chaining, brainwashing, choking, teeny bit of overstimulation.

Note: I contemplated whether to make this dark or not but then said what the hell?! Shorter than usual (I think) because it's been a hot minute.

MASTERLIST

"Aw, thank you, baby." Pete flashed you the million dollar smile that had charmed you so much the first time you saw it that it had directly led to this very moment.

"Honey~" you sweetly called out to your loving husband in that one tone he adored so much that he preferred you spoke to him in it all the time. "Here~" you held out the mini tray containing a chilled beer and loaded sandwich for him to snack on while he watched some old movie that you were frankly too young to know anything about.

You smiled and turned on your heels to place yourself next to him on the couch that faced the tv, feeling a tiny butterfly flutter in the base of your tummy due to how he patted the spot beside him for you to sit in that dominant way of his. The man could literally so much as breathe and have your whole stomach flip. He had you whipped.

Not much interested in the rather vintage movie, you turned to your book that you had bookmarked before leaving to make your husband a sandwich because he liked a snack or two with his movies. Your fingers hurriedly turned the pages as you found your chapter, bottom lip moving itself between your teeth in excitement. You had been perfectly engrossed in a particularly thrilling part where a plot twist was unfolding when your husband had ordered- no, requested his craving.

Why would Pete ever order you outside the bedroom? Pfft, no way. He was a very giving and kind husband who would never disrespect you!

Yes, maybe sometimes he was just a little mean during punishments but it was never not duly deserved.

It wasn't unfair. Not by a long shot. Pete worked hard for the both of you and your future family throughout the week so you could stay at home in pretty dresses and do whatever you pleased. Your only jobs were to cook, clean and take care of his husbandly needs.

And that was all!

You weren't the one who had to go out into the scary outside world and deal with all those dangerous people that lurked past the protective doors of your house! Honestly, if it weren't for Pete being such a supportive and devoted husband, you didn't know where you would be right now.

You would be cold, alone and miserable with no one to protect you. His words from training time faintly rang in your ears.

Pete was right.

He always was.

Your love was the only one who meant you no harm and could keep you safe.

Everyone else had already failed you or eventually would. Even your parents. Because seriously, what guardian is so careless as to take their child to baseball games where the ball could crack your skull open anytime! Honestly, how careless could your father be! Your mother was no different because, what kind of a woman encourages her daughter to have a career instead of teaching her the much needed and important domestic skills so she could keep her future family happy and healthy! Making you risk your precious life by letting you persue a career in law out of all!

If this wasn't the prime example of the fact that no one except for Pete truly cared about your comfort and safety, you didn't know what was.

Yes, so what if he had roofied your drink in the bar before taking you to your real home with him? He had only meant well! You had been far too headstrong and stupid a girl back then to know proper manners for someone your gender. But Pete had been very kind. Though you had fought relentlessly in the beginning and attempted to escape the premises of this house that was nothing but love and care, he forgave you for everything!

How much more wonderful could this man get?!

Your husband had smiled at every insult, laughed at every injury you had inflicted on his skin and heart, kissed away every tear you had so foolishly shed.

And then he had taught you proper wife etiquette.

Honestly, no one had ever bothered to put up with you that much.

"Honey?" Pete called out to you in a semi-distracted tone, blue eyes still trained on the tv as you stared at the pages in front of you with wide eyes as a realization washed over you. But before you could communicate your thoughts like you had been taught to do so, your husband continued. You hummed for him to go on, mind still stuck on the page. "Want to know something real funny?"

Obedience had been woven into every fiber of your existence. So you turned your head to look at him with curious eyes after making a mental note to tell him what you had realized just now later. Because Pete always came first. So you had to await your turn.

"Funny?" You tilted your head to the side, one arm looping around his arm as you perched your chin on his shoulder. "Sure, dear! I like funny…" Your nose crinkled a little as you smiled in the way he had taught you.

A devious smile spread over your husband's lips. "I read the epilogue while you were in the kitchen" it took you a few moments to realize what he was hinting at. He had done it before and the way he finally turned his head to look at you with mischief dancing in his ocean blue eyes, placing the now empty tray on the table in front of the couch, you knew he was about to do it again.

"No! You didn't!" You squealed as he laughed in the comic typical evil way, tackling you until your back was flat against the couch. "No! Please, honey! No!" You helplessly whined as you shook your head violently, tossing the book open and hurrying through the words. "I am almost at the epilogue! You cannot do this to me!"

"That's just a shame, isn't it?" The protestant kicking of your feet that rested on his back now caused a clinking sound in the air due to the thick iron cuff enclasped around one of your ankles.

"Noooo! Pleeeeease!" You pouted as his goatee gently pricked your fingertips that were pressing against his mouth in a desperate attempt to quieten him. "Honey, please! I've been a good girl!" That was the reason why you had maintained your reading privileges for three straight weeks at this point. "You're being cruel for no reason!"

"Aw. Don't you remember?" Prying your fingers off his mouth was no challenge to the older man. "Husbands can do whatever they want whenever they want…" You whined loudly as you ignored the tingle in your nether regions that his dark tone had caused, flipping the page and hurrying through the words, holding the book between your faces. "Okay, soooo… what happens is–"

"Ohmygosh you're so meeeean!" Now your free hand desperately darted to your own body before you fished out one of your boobs from the neckline of your dress. A whimper escaped from your lips when you reached for Pete's nape next before arching your back to further close the gap between your bodies. The action clasped the space of your husband's mouth shut as he hummed against your tender flesh now.

Pete had this rather mean way (that you didn't actually mind) of torturing you when you were reading sometimes. He would sneakily read from a section way ahead of where you were and then tease you with spoilers until you shoved his mouth with one of your private parts.

You faintly recalled being heavily opposed to it at one point.

But there was no other way to stop him when he was at this.

And that was alright because he was your husband who loved you and loved him.

… Right?

"Hmmm~" you softly moaned in the way he liked. His clothed dick instantly stiffened under your pussy like it always did; a confirmation that you had done the right thing. Your hips that were not as securely clad as your husband's began to slowly piston against his crotch, the dress being the only cover for your bottom since you weren't allowed underwear inside the house. Pete liked you accessible 24/7. So he could bend you whenever he pleased over any surface with no hassle.

It was the least you could do after all that he did for you.

Your legs tightened around Pete's waist as did his arms around yours. It was crazy to you how easy it was for him to handle your body however he desired since he physically looked more on the lean side. But his strength was no joke, you were nothing but a doll between his fingers.

And the reminder always made your wifey parts quiver.

"Hmmm… my perfect wife~" Pete's husky grunt caused your holes to clench around empty air as he latched onto your other boob that you had pushed out next. "Such a good slut… knows exactly what I like…" Your brows were furrowed and hands shaky, breaths hitting the paper that you struggled to both hold and read without dropping it on your face. "It's almost as if-" a loud sucking noise erupted in the air when he forcefully pulled his mouth away from your hardened nub, the feeling causing your back to arch as your hips increased their pace. "-As if you were only born so you could be my good little wife, huh baby?" His slightly rough hands were manly and strong against the soft skin of your chest, lips and teeth grazing against your sensitive skin while the goatee caused the tickles that never failed to tip you over the edge.

"B- Because I was, hubby!" You whimpered submissively as you failed all your attempts to make sense of the words in front of you. Pete had already told you why this was and he was right.

You were far too simple minded to multitask.

"What was that?" As his hips started to work against yours, the soft burn of the expensive fabric of your dress rubbing against your throbbing and leaking pussy caused tiny droplets of sweat to form on your temples. The book fell from your hands and on the ground besides the couch at last.

"I- I was only born s- so I could be your good little wife, hubby!" You cried out as you attempted to sink your nails in his shoulders but your husband beat you to it.

"That's fuckin' right…" Pete's breaths were heavy as he reached for the chain that connected to your ankle cuff and pulled it upwards. It was locked around a sturdy hook hidden under the living room couch on the other end. Long enough to allow you to move around the house to perform your wifely tasks but not an inch longer to entertain any funny or rebellious– dangerous attempts that could be made while he was out earning your bread and butter. Only Pete had the key that could unlock it.

You whined loudly when he deprived you from touching him while exposing your aching core in an even more intimate position at the same time by snaking the chain around your wrists and holding both your hands as well as your shackled ankle above your head.

The new position further distanced your pussy lips as you rubbed your swollen flesh against the soft material of his trousers now, your dress a wrinkled mess in the middle of your body.

"Mmm… I need you so bad, hubby…" You whispered out, throat dry and face twisted in need and want. "Please…"

"Do you deserve it, huh baby?" Now he laid out some of the cold chain against your throat with his free hand, lips parted and eyes dark. "Have you been a good wife for me?"

You vigorously nodded, clenching around air once more as your eyes rolled to the back of your head when he applied pressure to the makeshift leash against your windpipe, the loss of air and realization of the imbalance of power causing you to pant and hump the man harder.

Pete could do to you literally anything that he desired and you would happily let him just to please him.

That was your only priority after all; your real duty.

"You're gonna have to use your words, honey…" Your husband released your windpipe as he spoke, causing your back to arch once more to try and breathe better.

"I… I…. deserve it, hubby. I really do… I've been s- so good… I promise…" Your chest rose and fell as it glistened under the lights due to the tiny beads of sweat coating it along with Pete's saliva. "I- I deserve you~" your last word was a gasp against his lips that he finally smashed against yours, chaining down your windpipe again as he helped stimulate your worked up pussy by moving his own hips in sync to yours.

You were too close. It was dangerous. You had to break away and ask his permission if you didn't want to get punished. Cumming without Pete's permission was always followed by cruel edging that stretched on for weeks. Your husband was a master at taking you high to the point of utter dumbness only to leave you deprived and trembling at the last moment.

But you liked to kiss him so much…

That and you didn't want him to feel like you were prioritizing your pleasure over kissing him.

That would be such a selfish thing to do!

And good wives were supposed to be giving, understanding, patient and supportive.

It was a dilemma.

But as always, your knight came to your rescue and you knew you could never love him more than you did in this moment. "Cum for me and I'll consider…" It was like he could read your body and boy did you adore him for it.

Your air came back -or rather, was allowed to do so- just as fast as your vision went out when your tense insides finally bloomed open and went crashing over you the barrage of pleasure that had been building up inside of you. You moaned Pete's name along with heartfelt praises as you trembled, hips slowing down to avoid overstimulation as you blinked away the stars in your vision.

Rubbing and humping definitely had their own kinds of orgasms.

"Atta girl… That's it… Just like that…" Your husband whispered in your ear, his still clothed cock now rock hard against your worked up pussy. "Good girl…" Though he still kept a firm hold on your ankle and wrists, Pete let go of the makeshift leash to reach for your marked boobs that he began to caress. "You feel that, baby?" A soft whine pushed past the pout that formed on your lips. "This is what you do to me…" His voice was strained as he held back a moan, his stiff crotch teasing you now as he let go of your breasts to open his fly.

It was then that it suddenly occurred to you.

And though you knew from ample experience that it was never pleasant… you had to do the right thing.

You owed it to your perfect husband.

"U- Uh, honey…" You hissed out softly, trying to move your hips away from the torturous humping he was still subjecting you to. When Pete didn't respond, you tried again, only this time more timid because you knew too well how he responded to denial and rejection. "D- Darling…"

His nostrils flared as he exhaled loudly in annoyance. "What?" Your bottom lip wobbled at his snappish tone.

The man of the house did not like to be delayed when he wished to wreck his lady apart.

"I- I need to tell you s- something…" Pete gave up fiddling with the fly, looking up at you now.

"And it can't wait?" Your eyes stung when he refused to mend his tone but you told yourself it was because he wanted you so bad that he didn't want anything to come between you two.

Yes, that was it.

The truth.

Pete had told you this many times.

"I- I don't think you would like it…" Averting your gaze from his heated one and training it on his neck, you whimpered out your next words because of how his body had suddenly stiffened against yours. "I- I…" You bit your lip, already heightened heart rate refusing to slow down. Pete appreciated it when you were honest about this, you didn't understand why it was making you feel so panicked and sad.

Hopeless.

"D- Dangerous memories have been r- resurfacing again…" His tone and expression instantly changed after hearing this. They were darker but less rude now.

"Oh…" Pete stopped for a few moments to recollect himself. "F- For how long, baby?"

"D- Dunno… didn't really notice it until I remembered a whole episode from my time in court in the m- morning…" You couldn't help but whimper when you looked back up at him.

He seemed almost dumbfounded for a second before he spoke. "I see, honey…" Stopping for a few moments, Pete let go of your chains to caress your hair lovingly. "... And… What do we do when that happens, baby?" Your husband's voice was barely above a whisper as he peeked up at you with skeptical eyes.

"W- We have to go downstairs to fix it so the dangerous memories cannot form any silly ideas in my simple baby mind, hubby…" The man's worried expression changed to one of surprise.

And then the biggest smile made its way on his handsome face.

"Aren't the most perfect little girl, huh?" You couldn't help but blush and relax when he went back to being nice.

Disappointed and angry Pete was one you preferred to avoid at all costs.

"I just love you, hubby…" It came out the way the man had programmed you to say it before you gently pressed your mouth to his. "Wanna please you and make you happy…" Your husband pulled at one of your cheeks lovingly before he peppered soft kisses around your nose, making you giggle from how his goatee tickled your skin.

"So, then… shall we?" The older looked almost proud and smug as he crawled off of you and undid your ankle cuff, softly caressing the slightly red skin before he offered you a hand to sit up.

You smiled as you pushed away a rather unfamiliar stinging in your chest, focusing on the man in front of you instead as you took his hand and stood up, naively following him out of the living room and into the basement, hand in hand with your fingers intertwined.

Pete smirked to himself darkly as he turned the dial of the combination lock on the door of the basement cell before opening it for you to step in. He could still remember the time when you used to push all of your faculties to try and override the lock system somehow.

All that fight to get out only to voluntarily step in with a smile now.

You were definitely Pete's Magnum opus.

#pete brenner #pete brenner smut #pete brenner x reader #pete brenner x you #pete brenner x female reader #dark pete brenner #dark!pete brenner

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marchswifey · 8 months

Text

Tate Langdon’s NSFW alphabet

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He likes to give you a lot of cuddles and he likes to watch movies or play video games with you

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He likes your tits and your stomach and on himself he likes his hair, its style and color

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He will cum wherever he likes, the most he cum on your chest

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He secretly wants to try the role-playing game, the thought of seeing you dressed in a sexy doctor's onesie turns him on a lot

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He is very experienced thanks to porn but he never had a real relationship before you (if we don’t consider Violet)

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He likes you to ride him so he can see your boobs bouncing while you fuck him

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

If he’s feeling playful he makes a lot of jokes during the time.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He keeps it shaved for you but sometimes small blond tufts can be seen

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He’s romantic most of the times, asking if you’re feeling good or if you need him to slow down

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

I feel like before you he did it a moderate amount but now that he’s with you he just shows up in your room when he’s feeling needy so you can help him

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He will literally do almost everything

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Everywhere in the house but he prefers your room since around the house there are the other ghosts who would probably watch you

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Literally everything about you, especially if your wearing anything revealing

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He won't do anything you don't want him to do

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Doesn't mind either, but likes giving to you more than receiving. He loves getting to see how good he makes you feel and he loves that the faces you make are only for him

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It goes pretty fast, not too hard though

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not fond of them, he likes to take his time and go multiple rounds. If you both are desperate he wont hold back, but it isnt a must for him

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He is open to try things and take risks when it comes to your sex life

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Since he’s dead he can go on until you can’t take it anymore

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Although he enjoys pleasing you with what he has, he can't deny wanting to see you trembling, panting, and crying while he abuses your body with toys

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He teases a lot like yeaaaa

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He tries to be quiet, but his grunts come out and they’re loud

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He would play Nirvana on the radio while you’re having sex

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

I'd say he's average size 5 to 6 inches but he is thick so yeah

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Fault high once the two of you got close. He has a lot of pent up feelings to let out, so he's got about a 8.5/10

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Usually he doesn’t fall asleep since he’s a ghost, he lays on your stomach while you play with his hair, that's how you two cuddle

#american horror story #smut #evan peters #headcanon #tate langdon #tate langdon smut #tate langdon x you #ahs murder house #ahs fanfic #american horror story murder house #tate langdon x reader

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teyamsatan · 1 year

Text

Cruel Summer | Chapter V: Oceans and Engines (end)

Pairings: Neteyam x (f)Human!Reader

Word Count: 8k words

Warnings/notes: angst, allusions to/mentions of smut, some fluff, all the feels, 18+ minors DNI

Synopsis: "The culmination of love is grief, and yet we love despite the inevitable. We open our hearts to it. ... To grieve deeply is to have loved fully. Open your heart to the world as you opened it to me, and you will find every reason to keep living in it."

A/N: Please read this before you read the final chapter x

Also, please listen to the playlist, and Oceans and Engines as you read, as I feel it will really enhance the experience.

I will leave my notes at the end of the chapter. Ily besties, enjoy!

: ̗̀➛ listen to the Cruel Summer playlist here : ̗̀➛ masterlist (x) : ̗̀➛ series masterlist (x)

Saturday sunset

We're lying on my bed with five hours to go

Fingers entwined and so were our minds

Cryin', "I don't want you to go"

Neteyam was disorientated and lost, more so than he's ever been in his life, a life that felt like quicksand, swallowing him whole with every involuntary move, that didn't allow him to escape until it suffocated him, until it snuffed the light completely out of his body, until there was nothing left. Still, in this state, his only thought of you, and of the necessity to find you, to talk to you, of the hope that you'd talk him out of it.

He eventually found you on the beach, staring into the distance, back turned away from him, and his heartbreak hurt, its edges bleeding and broken, reeling at the unfairness of the universe, at the thought of having to tell you, once again, that he’s abandoning you for someone else, for a sense of duty he didn’t seem to be able to overcome.

“Vol…”

Your soft sniffles took Neteyam by surprise, as did your face, littered in tears, eyes, nose and cheeks red and swollen. Neteyam exhaled, a sharp tug of pain tugging at his insides, and he sat next to you, unable to look at your face without breaking down, so he just looked at the ocean.

“You heard.”

He saw you nodding in his periphery.

“Yeah… your mother, uhm… she was talking about it when I went to check on Kiri.”

“Vol, I…”

“Hey… stop.” You turned to face him, your knees pressing hard against his thighs, and you reached out to his face and turned it so he was looking at you. You brushed the tears that were falling over his lips and they trembled slightly as you did.

“I think it’s my turn to talk.”

You took a deep breath in.

“All my life, I felt alone. I watched from the outside looking in at a life I could never have. I watched kids, my age, blue and so much taller than me, laughing and running and playing, not for one second having to doubt their place in the world, the meaning of their lives, because it was clear as day, from the moment they were born. I watched as you guys had a loving family, and two parents who were crazy about you, and so much love filled your tent and your faces, I was always jealous. I know you know this, but my mother never wanted me. She always resented me for not being able to return back home, for being too pregnant to allow for the cryo technology needed to make it back it Earth. Seven years I knew her, and seven years were enough for her to give me enough trauma to never fully recover from it, trauma I’ve yet to outgrow. So I was jealous. I wanted so badly to be part of your family, and of your world. I hated myself, and my body, and my parents, and every little happenstance that it took for me to be here, in this place, as I am, useless and weak.

But then, one day, this boy, he changed everything. He gave me a home, in his eyes, and his arms, in his mind and his laugh. And I’ve never been the same since. We grew up together and learnt to brave life together. I was his confidant, and his court jester. He was my biggest cheerleader, and my bodyguard. We were each other’s brother and sister, and later, we were each other’s comfort and love. I found myself in him, and I learnt my beauty looking at it through his eyes. I discovered my worth in the way he looked at me like stars were born from the freckles of my skin. And I hope I did the same to him. Neteyam, you saved my life. You gave me a sense of belonging, and a home. You gave me love, and friendship, and the chance to be myself and loved unconditionally for it. And I’ll never be able to thank you for it.

All my life, I have been selfish. I got to watch as you had to struggle with big sacrifices that you were forced to make, and got to be angry at you for making them, without really thinking about it too much. I got to always be the victim, and made you the villain, because it’s easier this way. I got to be mad at you and think of myself so much of my life. And you had to live with the knowledge that you broke my heart, and deal with that guilt on top of everything else you were going through. And… I’m sorry.”

Your voice cracked as he tightly shut his eyes and put his head in his hands, sobbing silently, finally able to let it all out, after all these years, after so long of keeping it all in.

You wiped away tears

But not fears under the still and clear indigo

You said, "Baby, don't cry, we'll be fine

You're the one thing I swear I can't outgrow"

“It’s my turn, now.” You tried to crack a smile. “It’s my turn to be the bad guy. It’s my turn to break your heart. It’s my turn to be selfless, for once in my life. So I’m leaving, Neteyam. I think it’s time for me to go.”

“What?”

“We tried." the smile faltered as you said those words, as your voice broke, replaced by glistening eyes and a poorly masked grimace.

"We gave it our all, didn’t we? It’s the best that we could do, the best anyone can do, is give it their best. We did that. And I was so afraid yesterday, afraid of the fall, and while the fall is here, I’m not afraid anymore. Because I got to love you. At last once, I got to know that you loved me too, and that all these years, everything we shared, despite what we told each other, it was real, and it was love. I got almost two years with the man of my dreams, the love of my life, and I’m grateful for it. I got to know what it was like to be in love and have it reciprocated, what it was like to belong to someone, fully, wholly, and… what better way is there to live?

You know, it always felt like we were running on borrowed time, you and me. And it turns out we were. And while our time is up, I still got a lifetime of memories that I’ll always carry with me, that I’ll always cherish.”

He sobbed and you cried silent tears, as he wrapped his arms around you and hugged you, and you felt his whole body shake as he cried, and you let him, and you prayed you could be strong enough to withhold his pain and your own. With your head buried in his chest, you stood there, crying together, slowly coming to terms with the love you lost, and the future you’d never get, and the past that made the pain unbearable, and the body you’d never get to hold again. He was everything you’ve ever wanted, everything you kept in dreams and prayers, everything you hoped for and ached for, and you lost him, and he was no longer yours. Was he ever yours to lose?

“You know, humans believe in this concept of parallel universes. That in this immense universe we are in, there are actually other ones, parallel to our own, in which reality differs. There are infinite realties out there, they say, each of them slightly different to the other. In a different reality, you and I are together right now. In a different reality, I get to stay, and I get to love you forever. In another one, maybe I’m an Avatar, or a Na’vi, and everything we’ve struggled through is moot to begin with. Or maybe, in another one, we’re both human, here at the same time, or back on Earth, and right now we are at our boring 9 to 5 jobs, just daydreaming about seeing each other after work, and bickering about who’s gonna take out the trash. I think things work out for us in every universe but this one, and maybe that’s ok. Maybe we have to suffer for all the other you and mes to get their happy ending, and… I think I’m ok with that.”

“I just got you back. I just got you back.”

“I know.”

My mother said the younger me was a pretending prodigy

Well, nothing then, much has changed

'Cause while you're wolfin' down liquor, my soul, it gets sicker

But I'm stickin' to the screenplay, gotta say I'm okay, but answer this, babe

“Come on. We still have today. You’re still mine today, and I’m still yours today. And I want to remember it, this day, not for the worst goodbye of my life, but because it’s one more day I got to love you, the way I wanted to for so long.”

You got up from your spot on the beach and you pressed your palms on his raised knees so that he’d drop them, and he did. You’ve never seen Neteyam like this, this broken before. He looked a lot like you felt, but you knew he had braved too many storms for the two of you and it was your turn. Your turn to be the strong one, to put on the brave face and allow him to mourn, the way you did when he left. He deserved this, and you were happy to do it until you left on that helicopter, as long as you managed to ease his pain at least a little. You positioned yourself with each leg on one side of his thighs, and like this, for the first time ever, you were taller than him, and you did your best to lift his face up with both your hands on either side of his jaw, smiling as your eyes met, trying to ignore how your heart was breaking in a million pieces, how this was the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do, how little time you actually had to look in his eyes anymore and how lost your life would be without his light to guide you through it. You ignored it all and smiled, caressing his face, softening his frown, trailing your soft fingers over his eyes and nose and lips, tugging at the sides until you forced the corners upwards, willing them into his own little smile. You allowed his tears to stain your fingers and you removed your mask and kissed them off his face, as you did his lips, and the rest of his features until you were forced away from him, like you always were when outside, like you would always be from now on.

“Come on, you can’t let me leave without another swim.”

How is it now that somehow you're a strangеr?

You were mine just yеsterday

I pray the block in my airway dissipates

And instead deters your airplane's way

Later, you laid on his chest, looking at your hands intertwined, his so much bigger than yours, almost engulfing it altogether, taking each one his knuckles and kissing them while your uncovered airways still allowed you to, and you tried your best to forget, at least for a while, that your reality was the tragic one. He did take you swimming again, riding the ilu that you’ve come to like as almost a friend, and you felt a tinge of sadness at another thing you got in one day that you had to let go of tomorrow. He took you to the Tree of Souls, which was forbidden to outsiders, but he didn’t care, not anymore. He wanted you to see it, because in his dreams, he always showed it to you, and in his dreams, you saw it and your guise and manner of expressing yourself brought him so much happiness it always woke him up, and he was glad to know his mind still knew you better than it knew itself, because you reacted exactly the way he’s always imagined, and it did make him so happy that he could cry, that he did cry, once more, tears barely dry from last time.

How was he supposed to let you go? How was he supposed to go ahead with this, when every fibre of his being, every thought of his mind belonged to you, and always will? When he finally found you, when he finally got you, when he knew what happiness really looked like, and how it had always been buried in the depths of your soul, and he just needed to ask for permission to enter it, and now that he had, he didn’t think he could ever leave, and he knew he didn’t ever want to leave. How could life be so cruel, and this summer, the cruelest of them all?

But heaven denied

Destiny decried

Something beautiful died

Too soon

You took a detour back to the village and stopped on a different beach, isolated and reclusive, full of greenery and sandy beaches, that you decided was now your beach, your own little portion of heaven in the reef, that Neteyam promised would be for just the two of you, for the rest of time, as long as he could help it. He was happy to know he’s once more learnt your body like he used to know it back home, and devastated at how he would never get to put his lessons to good use after today, and from tomorrow, every new scar, and new curve, every new freckle or mole, it would all be unfamiliar to him, never to be seen or learnt again, never his to know again.

“I figured out what I want.” Neteyam says all of a sudden, and you raise your eyebrows, confused at his words.

“Hmm?”

“Our little bet in the water? I beat you to it, and I was supposed to tell you what I wanted and you were supposed to do it.”

“Ah, yes.” You say, almost impossible to perceive that that was just yesterday, and how it felt like a world away, like a life away.

“So what do you want, 'teyam?”

“I want you to promise me you’ll be happy. And you’ll live your life to the fullest, just like you always have when I was there.”

Your eyes widened and the tears that followed had no time to gather in them as they came and went in a split second, and you were almost surprised you still had tears left to cry. You tried your best to put on a brave face, that you worried came off more like a wince, and you laughed, a fruitless attempt at making light of a dark, dim situation.

“How can I be happy without you, 'teyam?” It was meant to be a joke. Just a teasing, light joke, but it came out as more of a wail, because while the words were supposed to be said in jest, they were also a genuine concern, a question that has plagued you for months and will continue to, for a very long time.

It was his turn to put a brave face on and a fake smile as he rolled his eyes and pulled you closer.

“It shouldn’t be that hard, I’m not that great anyway.”

You laughed too, wishing there was a way to erase the liquids pooling at the bottom of your damp mask.

“Eh, you’re right. You’re just ok.”

You tightened your arms around his torso, and pulled him as close to you as you could. You both sighed, and tried to keep more tears from falling through.

“Just try. Please? I need to know you’re going to try, Vol.”

You nodded reluctantly, feeling as each crack of your heart deepened and chipped away, broken shards floating through your veins, making the ache travel through every inch of your body.

“Only if you try.”

But I'm letting go, I'm givin' up the ghost

But don't get me wrong

I'll always love you, that's why

I wrote you this very last song

You woke up in his arms as eclipse was almost over, and whatever was left of your heart sank as the dreaded new day came, and with it, the end of happiness and of life as you came to know it for almost 20 years. He was awake, you realised, as you raised your head to check, hopeless look about him as he looked up at the sky, at the eclipse melting into breaking dawn. You sighed, realising that there was very little to be said, very few words that could make this better, that could ever amend and mend the hurt in your both hearts, the loss of a relationship, a friendship and a future all in one, so you said nothing. You both watched the time ticking with each inch of the planet moving away from the sun, until eventually, the last remnants of the eclipse were just a memory. Like he now was.

You rose to your feet, finding it hard to put on your clothes and turn around to face him. He half-rose as well, sitting with his arms propped behind him, leaning on them, as he continued to look up at the sky, not bothering to erase the tears falling down his face and chin until they hit his chest. You sat next to him, looking at the beach and at how the waves crashed onto the shores, and tried to focus on the rhythmic sounds they made to calm your racing, bleeding heart.

“‘teyam… I think it’s time for you to go.” You ignored the way your voice broke as you spoke and you hoped he would, as well. “I think it’s time. I will stay here, on this beach, and I need you to please get up and go.”

“Vol… I can’t leave you… please…”

“Yes, you can. You will get up, and you will go, and you will be the selfish one for once. And you will do your duty, which is what you’ve always wanted to do, and you will meet this girl and fall in love with her in time, and watch as she adores you, because how could she not?, and you will be Olo’eyktan, the way you were always meant to be. You will do all these things, because you have to. Because, deep down, you know it’s the right thing to do.”

You were both crying, sobbing in each other’s arms, trying to find the courage to leave, to finally say goodbye.

“I’m so sorry, Vol.”

You shook your head. One last time, you took off your mask and kissed him, and you poured it all into the kiss, the goodbye you could never bring yourself to speak out loud, the love you had and now had to leave behind, the dreams and aspirations that were now just specks of sand blown in the wind, you put it all in that last kiss, and felt him do the same.

“Don’t be sorry. I love you so much. And I forgive you.”

“I realised something these past two days. I held on to so much hate and anger because it helped me deal with your loss. But it was haunting, and piercing, my time away from you. The fire that was fuelled by my rage burned cold, like frostbite. But this… is different. Forgiveness is warm. Like a tear on a cheek. Think of that… and of me, when you stand in the rain. I loved you completely, and you loved me the same. That’s all. The rest is confetti.”

“Now go.”

And so he did, and so you watched his back as it got further and further away from you until he was completely gone, and alone at last, you finally felt free to fall apart.

I guess this is where we say goodbye

I know I'll be alright

Someday I'll be fine

But just not tonight

The ceremony was beautiful. She was beautiful. Tall and turquoise skinned, with luscious, long, curly hair and a supple, jewellery-adorned body, she was everything you would never be. Jake insisted that you stayed. You were family, this was a happy time, and you should be here to celebrate. And so you stayed. And you watched as the Tsa’hik symbolically bound their destinies together with a piece of woven thread. You watched as she brought their heads together and made them recite words of promise and forever, looking into each other’s eyes, praying to Eywa for a fruitful mateship and for healthy offsprings. You said your tears were happy tears, just excited tears, when asked by the scientists and the rest of the Sullys, and you felt suddenly sorry for them, that they would never know. That in their midst, the greatest love story they would have ever seen was born and died, and they were ignorant of it. And you were angry at them, and at the world, for it had missed you, and missed him, for it will never know a love like yours, a love that was beyond this life and the next, but you resigned yourself, in the end, in knowing that it was enough that you knew, and that he knew. It was enough.

After the ceremony, you had to watch as they left, just the two of them, headed towards the Tree of Souls, where you were just a few hours ago, and knowing what they were going to do made you sick, so you excused yourself and ran, as far as you could in the opposite direction, before lunging forwards and expelling all the pain and hurt that was too overbearing to remain contained in your body. You tried to think of anything else, like Tuk, and Kiri and Lo’ak, like Jake and Neytiri, like the beautiful beach and the sea and the animals inhibiting it, but everything came back to him, and the images flashing of him doing what you did last night to her, of his queues intertwined with hers, of having access to the part of him that only you were ever privy to, of the agonising thought that all your life, you were just a trial run for the real deal… it was hurt unlike anything you thought the human body could withstand, and yet you did. Because you promised him. That you would try to move on, and try to be happy.

“Don’t be a stranger, ok, kid? I know you were upset, and we’re really sorry, but we want you in our lives. Ok?”

You nodded and hugged Jake, and the rest of the Sullys, knowing you were lying, that you'll never come back here again, but glad to at least get this moment with them, a moment to catch-up and say a proper goodbye, and despite everything, despite it all, you were happy you came. Norm was right. It was good to have closure, it was good to let the people in your life that you love them, and that you’ll miss them, and that life will never be the same without them. You never know where life will take you next, and everything can change at a drop of a hat. But at least you got this. You got to love Neteyam, and hold him. You got to laugh and chat as you always used to do, you got to tell him how much he’s always meant to you and hear how much he’s loved you in return, and you got to ease his pain, at least a little, and despite it all, you were grateful.

Plungin' into all kinds of diversions

Like blush wine and sonorous soirées

But even with gin and surgin' adrenaline

I see you're all that can intoxicate

The ride home was quiet, or at least it appeared so to you, as you didn't register anything besides the emptiness of your own soul and the overflowing of your thoughts that were trying to understand it all, trying to piece together what they had just witnessed and what they'd have to do to get you through the upcoming days. It was quiet, as was meeting spider again, although you vaguely remember some echoed cries and screams, some pleas of "please make it stop", someone carrying you to your room, and falling asleep in unfamiliar arms, that weren't blue or dotted with stars, that weren't the ones you ached for, the ones you'd never be in again.

The days were slow, and dragging. It was hard to find your footing in this new life. Before Awa’atlu, despite the anger and the pain, there was some hope in your mind, that you’d one day see him again. It was enough to keep you going, even if it was for you to yell at him, to curse him off, to scream about how angry you were and hope that he would apologise and make it up to you. It kept you going, that unlikely scenario, made you push through the hurt and change. But now, you didn’t have that anymore. There was no unresolved issues, no lingering, hidden feelings that could still be confessed, no way for him to one day return and ever be yours in any form ever again. There was nothing there. And that gaping hole left by his absence, by the love that was nested in your body with nowhere to go, with no one to give it to, the hole left by everything he was to you and the life he’s left behind, it was enough to cower you, to knock you down, day after day, enough so that you couldn’t find it in you to get up in the morning.

Oceans and engines

You're skilled at infringing on great love affairs

'Cause now my heart's home

All I've known is long gone and ten thousand miles away

And I'm not okay

Norm’s subtle knocks were unmistakable - he was always gentle and kind, and always mindful of your disposition. You didn’t answer, but he came in anyway after a while, his hand over his eyes.

“Is it ok for me to come in?” You sighed and rose from the bed, feet dangling off the side.

“Yes, Norm. I’m coming to the lab now, sorry for being late.”

He came in and the door slid closed behind him with a soft thud. He sat next to you on the bed and looked nervously at his fidgety hands. You rose an eyebrow, intrigued as to what could have made him this way.

“Kid… are you ok? Like… are you truly ok?”

Your eyes widened imperceptibly at his loaded question, that you knew you could never answer truthfully, that no white lie could ever cover. So you didn’t.

“Why wouldn’t I be ok?”

“Because there’s no light in your eyes anymore, kid. Because I look at you and it’s like I’m looking at a ghost. Because you’re scaring the shit out of me and Max.” He sighed, and reached over to take your hand in his and squeezed.

“We didn’t know. About you and Neteyam, we didn’t know.”

Your gaze snapped at his face, and he looked sad and… almost embarrassed looking back at you.

“Norm, wh-…? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You know you can talk to us, right? I know it’s weird to talk to your surrogate uncles, but we’re here for you, kid. And you shouldn’t have to go through something like this alone. I’m sorry you had to sit through the ceremony, we didn’t realise until it was too late.”

“How?” Your voice was barely above a whisper as you spoke.

“During. And after. We had to watch the life getting snuffed out of your eyes slowly on the way back home. I’ve never seen anyone look so sad before… maybe except him. It was supposed to be one of the best days of his life, and yet, he’s never looked worse, the poor kid.”

“I’m sorry, kid. How long…?”

“It’s… complicated. I’m sorry I never told you. We both felt it wasn’t something anyone would be comfortable with, and we both know it could never last. It was supposed to be… fuck. I don’t know what it was supposed to be.”

Norm sighed and put a hand on your shoulder, giving it a sympathetic tug.

But I'm letting go, I'm giving up the ghost

But don't get me wrong, I'll always love you, that's why

I wrote you this very last song

I guess this is where we say goodbye

I know I'll be alright, but just not tonight

"Did I ever tell you about Trudy?" you shook your head. The name sounded familiar, and you're sure you've heard it from Jake or Max, but other than the fact that she was a human that died in the war, you didn't know much else.

"She was... well, I guess she was my Neteyam." tears immediately gathered in your eyes at his statement and the empathy that engulfed you, because, if it was anything like it, then you pitied Norm and wished you could take away some of his pain, just like you wish someone could take away some of yours.

"I loved her, so much. I loved this planet when I came here, but it was a superficial love. I was young, and wanted nothing else than to prove myself, that I'm a good scientist, that I'm a good researcher. I was jealous and bitter of Jake for getting what I thought was my chance at success, at fame. And then I met her, and she was so full of light, and spark. She was brave, and kind. She just wanted to live and laugh and fly her helicopter, and... and do the right thing. Not because it would have brought her money or prizes or acclaim, but because that's just who she was. I thought I knew what love was, what being a good person was, what being happy was, but I didn't, not until I fell in love with her. When she died, I was so lost. I felt like a part of me died with her. I thought I'd never recover, and to a certain extent, I never did. I wish I can tell you that time heals, but in reality, that's not a guarantee. But you want to know something?"

"All her lessons, both meant and inadvertent, everything she meant to me, all the memories we shared, everything is still here. I still carry it with me, and it will always be a part of me. She will always be a part of me, and while that thought scared me in the beginning, while I hoped that time healing meant I would forget, now I know it means embracing the happiness it gave you, all the ways their presence in your life made you a better person. It means knowing that love is real, and it's everything, because you felt it with them, because they shared it with you. It's what makes this life worth living. And pain is just a reminder of how incredible your time together was. Cause in the end, what is grief, if not love persevering?"

Tonight was the first time I stared into seas

Of beguiling sepia two years ago

And the first time I learned real world superpowers lived in three words

They revitalise my fraying bones

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

“Happy birthday, Vol.”

“So, how would rate your 19th birthday compared to your 18th?”

You thought about it for a while.

“Well, I can say it’s had a lot less booze, but a lot better sex.” You both laughed while your head was rested on his shoulder, as you watched your favourite season of your favourite show, sprawled in bedsheets, his naked body glimmering in the dark and reflecting in your eyes as you took his beauty in, that you never got accustomed to, no matter how many times you saw it. When the credits rolled in and the music faded, leaving a dark room behind, silent apart from your breaths, that were getting laboured once more as desire built up in your core yet again, you straddled him and watched his face get closer to yours, until your lips met, until his tongue explored your mouth and neck, leaving traces of him on you, until your hands trailed his chest and abdomen, lingering over his abs, until they reached what they were looking for, until he made you scream, over and over, until you let him.

“You’re a fiend.”

“I’m a fiend?! What about you?” Neteyam shook his head, and you scoffed and rolled your eyes at what you thought was a preposterous statement.

“Let’s think about it. Who seduced who the first time? Who was drunk off their ass and asked to fuck, huh?”

“Who kept getting boners around their best friend until one day she had the guts to do something about it, huh?”

He rolled you off of him with ease and pinned you to the ground, smirking and pushing his hips into your still dripping core.

“You know why I kept getting boners, Vol? Because I could smell you. I could smell how wet you were around me. Your scent drove me nuts for so long. It still does. You intoxicate me. You drive me fucking crazy, Vol.”

You said nothing as you looked in his eyes, as your heart fluttered much like the butterflies that were digging their way through your stomach.

“‘teyam…” He shuts you up with kiss, tender and soft, so unlike his words or actions, and you melt into it, and the fear creeps in your chest as you fall for him deeper, as you half-consider just telling him, just coming out with it, because fuck, you loved him and this wasn’t helping.

“I have something for you. Birthday present.” Suddenly, he got off you, leaving you a breathless mess, and retrieved something from the pile of clothes on the floor. He plopped himself next to you and pulled you close, until you were resting his head on his torso, and you snuggled into him, glancing at the object in his hand curiously.

His words were soft-spoken and quiet, almost bashful, and you noticed his heart picking up speed, thumping loudly in the ear that was pressed tightly against his chest. “I didn’t know what to do for your birthday, considering you’re already blessed with the best gift in the world… my presence in your life, that is…” you snickered sarcastically, and he continued. “…but, every time I go on a mission, I think of you, and your voice that tells me to be safe, and I see your eyes looking back at me as you stitch my wounds afterwards, and I make it a point to grab a pebble at the end of each mission, to give to you. But, for one reason or another, I never did. So here.” He grabbed your hand in his, turning it upwards so your palm was facing the ceiling, and dropped the item in it.

A necklace. A gorgeous, stunning, impossibly beautiful choker, with tens, if not hundreds of beads and pebbles of different colours and textures woven into it. It looked majestic, fit for a queen, or a Tsa’hik, and you felt tears pool in your eyes at its meaning, at how long he must have been collecting these for, with you in mind, at how long it must have taken to make, at how much it meant to him, and now to you. He took it from you and you held your hair so he could fasten it around your neck. It fit you perfectly, and you smiled up at him, raising an eyebrow.

“How did you know it was going to fit?” He smiled and your fingers caressed your cheek, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

“Let’s just say I’ve had my hand wrapped around your throat enough times to have a pretty good frame of reference.”

You couldn’t help the blush in your cheeks, or the way your reached back for your new gift so you could trace your fingers over it, imprinting the feel of every bead in your mind, thinking of each one and trying to correlate it to a time, or a place, to a hunt or a battle he was part of that you weren’t, but how you were ever-present in his mind.

“Do you like it?”

“I love it, ‘teyam. Thank you.”

“Making this necklace, it was a good reminder that you have been the only constant in my life since I was born. No matter how much my life has changed, how much I changed, you’ve always been there to brave the storm with me. And I love you, Vol. You’re my best friend. Forever.”

“Forever.”

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

The hurt of the dream lingered as you woke up, as you had to deal with its remnants that were tattooed in your mind, as you had to once more convince yourself that somehow waking up is better than what you just left behind. It wasn’t, it never was. It was hard to find the will to get out of bed when in bed, this was your reality, filled with beautiful memories and hopeful fantasies, whereas out of bed, your reality was filled with war, and fighting, training til everything bled, and the gaping hole of heartbreak. And to top it all off, it’s your birthday today. A day that stopped belonging to you two years ago, and was instead just another bitter reminder of his absence.

You got up from the bed and showered, finding comfort in the water hitting your skin and untying the knots in your tense muscles. It's taken awhile, weeks for you to mourn, but you have officially started training with Spider and Tarsem again, and you hated to admit it, but it helped. Being outside, in the forest, from dusk til dawn, thinking of nothing else but the ache in your body and the focus on the target, on the next goal, the next milestone, it kept your mind occupied and it allowed you to cope better than you ever expected. It was nice to be around other people, and you felt grateful for each and every one of them, because in truth, you didn't think you could have made it on your own.

When you made your way through the village to join everyone for breakfast, you were greeted with a myriad of screams of happy birthday, from humans, avatars and Na'vi alike, and for the first time in weeks, you felt a tinge of joy in your heart, and a swell of gratitude for the unforeseeable change in attitude from the people of the clan. For the first time in your life, you felt welcomed here, and you didn't know whether it was Tarsem's influence, or the Na'vi having another reminder, now that the Sky People were back, that not all humans are inherently evil, or your strenuous effort to be one of them and join in the battles and the training, but regardless of what it was, it was a gratifying change.

"Birthday girl, come on. We've been dying to give you your present." Max had the biggest smile on his face and an item you couldn't place in his hand.

"Here. Happy birthday, from all of us."

You raised an eyebrow.

"From all of you? That's a big present."

You took the curious contraption in your hands and twirled it around. It was lanky and weird, and it looked old, before your time, and even their time. You noticed as you inspected it that it had an eyepiece that resembled that of a microscope.

"That, kid, is called a stereoscope. Look into it."

You did, and as you put your eyes in the socket, a big picture of... cells came into view. But they weren't cells you've ever seen before.

"What is this?"

"Those, kid... are your cells. Actually, if we are being specific, they are your future Avatar's cells."

The stereoscope fell from your hands and you were happy Spider had catlike reflexes because it looked precious and unique and you didn't want to break it, but God, in that moment, you really couldn't care less.

"What did you say?"

"You know all the things we got from the humans that we didn't know what to do with or what they were? Well, we figured it out, kid. You, Spider and Max are all getting Avatars. And their technology massively improved, too. They're growing like crazy, it shouldn't take more than a year. By next year, you might be able to take it out for a spin."

A year later, as you celebrated yet another birthday, you had to give it to the scientists for being men of their word, as you stood in your new shiny Avatar body, that you've already become used to in the few weeks you've been inhabiting it. The mountain stronghold was filled with laughter and music as the celebration was underway, as people celebrated you and your 21st birthday, a big event back on Earth, apparently. You laughed with the rest of them, drinking and telling stories of this and that, trying not to dwell on the thoughts that were burrowing through layers of your mind, coming to the forefront, unwanted and unannounced. Thoughts of him, of you, thoughts of how this Avatar could have been the answer to all your problems if news of it came even if a few weeks before, how the universe was cruel and mocking, and how none of it mattered, not anymore. You wanted to focus on the positives, and you would. Just not tonight. Tonight, you had one last thing to do.

Now what do you do when your pillar crumbled down

You've lost all solid ground

Both dreams and demons drowned

And this void's all you've found

And doubts light it aglow?

As the celebration died down, in the early hours of the morning, you made your way to a place you loved so much, that you knew you needed to see once more, today, on your birthday. Because this place was his place, that he shared with you a long time ago, that in time became your place, and there was no more appropriate time to visit it one last time than today, on your birthday, exactly 3 years after everything changed between you. It was a long walk, on treacherous paths that you felt uneasy traversing by yourself, but there was no one else to do this with - not outside of him. Eventually, you pushed past thick foliage and greenery and you saw it, and despite how much time it’s passed, it still felt like the wind was knocked from your lungs with enough force to make you fall to the ground. It’s like no time passed at all. It still felt like he never left. To this day, his ghost haunted you, his memory continuous and unperturbed in your mind.

Eventually, you pushed back and sat on the edge of the cliff, like you did the first time he brought you here, and looked at the endless beauty of the vast drop and the roar of the waterfall as it fell and hit the river underneath.

You couldn’t even remember all the times you have been here, both of you looking ahead at the view, laughing and talking with no cares in the world, just happy to be in each other’s presence, happy to feel safe and understood, and have someone to complain to, someone to share your deepest secrets and fears with no judgement. All the times he’s watched you cry, or made you cum, too many to count, too many to forget.

I have so many questions

But I'm pouring them into the ocean

And I'm starting up my engine

You would have given anything for him to be here as you were now, tall and blue and supple, to be able to share this moment with him, to be able to kiss him in this place you both loved, that carried so much of you, of him, to be able to know one day you’ll bring your children here, that you’ll be able to watch it pass by from the back of an ikran as you went on a family trip. You wondered if he would have found you beautiful like this, if he would even recognise you. You barely recognised yourself these days, both like this and going back to your human body, your real body, that changed as you spent more time in the neurolink, learning to be Na’vi, building up the strength in the only body that now seemed to count. You wondered if he would be excited with you, or if he’d miss your normal body. You wondered if he’d just forget about your body altogether and focus only on the blue one you were currently inhabiting.

You wondered if he was happy. If he was getting along with his new mate, if she’s nice to him, if she knows how to mend his wounds and that he’s allergic to some of the plants a Tsa’hik uses for healing ointments. You wondered if he’s suffering as much as you are, even after all this time, or if he’s moved on, like he should, like you should. There were so many questions, that will forever remain unanswered, but that’s why you were here. You were here to look at this place one last time, to throw all the unsolved mysteries of life, and love, of the past and future away, away in the river, so they can float away into the ocean and be lost in the abyss, and allow you to finally move on.

You reached your hand in the pouch you had tightened on your chest, and pulled out a necklace, the necklace, that meant too much to you, and you looked at it, tracing your fingers over every one of the many pebbles embellishing it, reminiscing about the stories you made up in your head about each one, remembering each memory Neteyam told you they were about, watching as tears bounced off of them as the world became blurry around you, until eclipse slowly faded away from view and day took its place. You stood there for hours, thinking, crying, trying to build up the courage to do what you knew you had to do… needed to do.

And I'm letting go, I'm givin' up your ghost

It's come to a close, I marked the end with this last song I wrote

Late in the night, with one last look at the necklace that didn’t fit you anymore, at all it represented, with one last glance at every pebble - each one, in your mind, a memory, or a touch, or a kiss, or a laugh, each one an i love you, an I miss you you said to each other, each one a second, a minute, an hour, a day, a month spent together, each one a memory you’d never get to make, a touch, or a kiss, or a laugh you’d never get to share again, each one an I love you or an I miss you you’d never get to say or hear again, you let go of it all, letting it fall over the edge of the cliff, hoping that he’s happy, like he promised you he’d try to be, and determined to keep your own promise in this new life, a life that started and will end without him.

I'm letting go, this is the last falsetto I'll ever sing to you

My great lost love.

A/N: there it is, besties. the intended end to cruel summer. honestly, i just wanted to say a massive thank you if you managed to reach this far. when i started this blog, a few months ago, and posted the first chapter of illicit affairs, i did it on a whim, i did because i thought why not? Now, 2000 followers later, I get to write so many stories I never thought I'd ever get to, or even think of, and it's all because of you.

Cruel Summer means a lot to me, as i think it signifies my growth as a writer, my growth on this platform, and as a person learning through deal with my own personal issues through my characters. I loved writing it so much, I cried so much, probably more than with any other story I wrote, and I hope I managed to make you feel something, and maybe think, bc that's all I want, that's all anybody that does any sort of art can want i think.

Thank you for coming on this journey with me, and I hope you stay for what's next, bc I'm not done, as long as there's still people that want to be here. I love you and am very grateful to all 2000 of you.

thank you @karma-is-a-cat-purringinmylap bc this ending is the way it is bc of her and her sending me this song back in like chapter II. I love you and you changed my life by introducing me to niki. (initially, the chapter was going to be Happiness after TS's song)

Also see if you can spot all the quotes from different games/tv shows i used ;)

Taglist: @liluvtojineteyam @pinkpantheris @fanboyluvr@bananafruityawne @zaddyneteyamlovergirl @netemoon @www-interludeshadow-com @jackiehollanderr

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pathetic-sapphic · 10 months

Note

can i pls get a sfw alphabet for viktor ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ

Viktor SFW Alphabet

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

At the start of your relationship, it takes him a while to get used to displays of affection, both giving and receiving. Being so busy with work all of his adult life, Viktor has little to no experience when it comes to relationships. But he learns quickly and turns out to be a very needy and affectionate partner. He loves physical touch and melts whenever you give him a hug and a soft kiss every night when he comes back home from work. He loves giving you gentle and loving embraces, as well as kissing your forehead. There's just something so intimate and tender about those gestures that make him feel like he's doing a good job at loving you. Clings to your body whenever the two of you are asleep, with his face nuzzled in your hair or neck.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

You most likely to meet through work or during one of the galas as those tend to get quite boring so the two of you start a conversation while hiding away from crowds. Viktor loves to see curiosity and inquisitiveness so if you express those for his work, you'll surely get along well. He is a very honest, kind and supportive best friend. Never hesitates to be there for you when you need him and is always ready to give you advice or comfort.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Viktor loves to cuddle! Feeling the softness and warmth of your body against his own is a dream come true and it makes all his worries melt away. Often invites you to sit with him on your couch while he reads to you, loving the way you cuddle up into his side. Also likes when you put your head in his lap so he can play with your hair and vice versa. As mentioned before, he is a big fan of cuddling in bed and even starts going to work later in the morning because he has such a hard time leaving your hold. Cuddling with Viktor is a very intimate and tender experience.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Before meeting you, settling down was the very last thing on his mind. As your relationship progresses, Viktor learns to appreciate the domesticity of your life together. He is a very clean and neat man so he has no issue doing chores, it's the cooking that represents quite a challenge to his genius mind. Because of that he's fine with doing the cleaning while you do the cooking. If you're not much of a cook either then the two of you try to learn together (which may or may not end up in several close calls of a house fire). Viktor cherishes your joint life and loves the place you two now call your home. After some time of living together, he is willing to settle down as long as you feel the same.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Viktor is an honest and kind man so he would never try to lead you on or keep you in an unfair relationship. He calmly and regretfully admits that he wishes to break up and says he would like to remain friends. If you refuse, he understands completely. You're just such a good person that he would appreciate still having you around as a friend but he knows he hurt you and that you need time.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

As it was with settling down, getting married wasn't something on his mind before you came into his life. At first, he thinks it's a bad idea due to his health. Viktor thinks it'd be cruel to make you tied to a man who doesn't have much time left but starts thinking about it again after you reassure him that you wish to stay by his side no matter what happens. After a couple of years of dating, Viktor is ready. He makes a ring for you with an encased Hextech crystal (a dormant one of course), prepares a dinner date for the two of you and fumbles through the proposal. Hearing you say 'yes' makes his whole world bright and joyful, he is so grateful to call you his soon-to-be spouse.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

So so gentle. Viktor is a very kind and gentle soul who treats you as his most precious jewel. His touch and gestures are very caring and tender and so are his words and actions. He is a very giving and loving man who always treats you with nothing but utter respect and warmth.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Viktor loves hugs, always joking how he needs to recharge his battery by holding you. He gives them each day once he comes back home from work, telling you how much he missed you and giving you a soft kiss. His hugs are warm, tender and fond. Always murmuring words of appreciation and praise while his arms are protectively locked around your form, his face nuzzling softly into the crook of your neck.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It takes a while for him to build up the courage and he plans it in advance. Organizes a whole date just to set the romantic mood while he says it and you could tell he was going to admit something important with how fidgety he was acting. Says it while holding your face in his calloused hands and gazing into your eyes. Smiles at you softly and kisses you once you return the sentiment. From then on, he says it almost daily because he realizes just how easy loving you is. Viktor says it in the morning, when he comes back to work, when you go to sleep or just whenever he feels like it. Never wants you to doubt his love for you and how much it grows bigger and bigger with each moment the two of you spend together.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Viktor doesn't get jealous easily. You two have a very trusting and honest relationship and agreed early on to work on your communication with one another in other to avoid conflict. His jealousy comes from a place of insecurity and, although he doesn't take it out on you, you notice how reticent he's become after a situation where someone other than him showed romantic interest in you. He hesitantly admits his feelings and doubts and then listens to you as you reassure him that he's the only one for you. After your encouragement gets through that thick skull of his, Viktor feels silly. Because you showed him, time and time again, that you never plan on leaving him and never once did you give him a reason to doubt you. Apologizes and hugs you tightly, feeling relieved and loved thanks to your words.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

His kisses are shy and so so gentle. Loves kissing your forehead and lips. Make-out sessions with Viktor are also very tender and relaxing, he pours all his love and adoration for you into his kisses. He also likes to kiss your nose because it makes you giggle so sweetly. Loves any kisses you're willing to give him but has a soft spot for hand kisses, especially when you kiss some cuts he got at work, and melts when you kiss the beauty marks on his face.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He can be a little awkward around children and unsure how to act. However, he loves witnessing and entertaining a child's curiosity. He thinks it's fascinating and wishes more adults kept that part of themselves and carried it on with them. Children have no qualms or shame when it comes to asking questions and they don't care whether or not the questions sound stupid, they just want to learn. Viktor has no firm opinion when it comes to the two of you having children of your own, he'll adapt to whatever you wish to do as there are pros and cons in either situation. Although, he would make a very good and attentive father.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Mornings with Viktor are rare, as he often gets up before you and leaves for work. Whenever he sleeps in, you try to cherish the occasion as much as you can. His voice is rough with sleep in the morning and he's whiny if you wake him up earlier than he wants to be up. He usually doesn't sleep much so he deserves to sleep in every now and then so just let him have this. Let him hold you close and enjoy your shared warmth in the safety of your bedroom.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Nights with Viktor are lazy and relaxing. He often comes home tired and tense from work so you two like to eat dinner and then do something to ease off the stress of the day. Sometimes, when his body aches more than usual, you'll give him a light massage and he always praises you for how you take care of him so well. Other times you read together or just cuddle up on the couch while discussing how your day went. At night, Viktor simply craves to be close to you and listen to your warm voice as you talk about what you did that day.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He definitely reveals things slowly as he never had someone be interested in him as you are. Is genuinely surprised when you start asking for his opinion on things, his likes and dislikes or about his past. At first he thinks you may have an ulterior motive but soon notices that you're just genuinely curious about him and his life. He is usually a very private person but he indulges your curiosity and answers honestly any question you might have. It makes him feel wanted to have someone so interested and caring by his side.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Viktor doesn't have a short tamper but he can be very stubborn. Most things he can excuse but seeing injustice and ignorance makes his anger flare up. He isn't a violent man, but he is a confrontational one. With his intelligence and way with words he can easily dismiss someone's insults and refute their opinion. He is also very protective of you and is ready to confront anyone who tries to hurt you.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Everything. Viktor loves and remembers everything about you. From your favorite book to your least favorite food. Viktor keeps every detail or information you shared with him locked in his mind. He knows your preferences, your hobbies and quirks. As I mentioned before, he is a very attentive and caring partner.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The moment he realized he fell in love with you. You were hanging out in his lab, watching him struggle with an invention as he frustratingly ran his hands through his messy hair. Hating to see him so defeated, you made an off-hand comment on how you think he could make it work. You surely weren't an expert but you thought maybe, just maybe, it could help and it did! Your advice worked! Viktor swiftly pulled you into a hug, realizing after a moment that he may be crossing a boundary but just as he was about to pull away and apologize, you returned his embrace. It made his heart skip a beat and redness to adorn his cheeks and ears. That was when Viktor learned what it means to have butterflies in your stomach.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Viktor is very protective of you as he hates seeing you sad or hurt in any way. Gladly confronts anyone who ever dared to insult you or make you feel inferior. He is so gentle when comforting you, diminishing all your doubts and insecurities with reassurances and tender kisses. He isn't used for the gesture to be returned, so he is taken aback the first time you defend him against some pompous big shot who insults Viktor's abilities and intelligence due to the fact that he's from the Undercity. His eyes are laser-focused on your form and gestures as you mouth off the rude man and after the two of you leave, Viktor kisses you as hard as he can, making you breathless. Thanks you for being so good to him and believing in him, whatever would he do without you?

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

With Viktor being so attentive and remembering everything about you, he is very good at preparing dates that suit your taste. Due to his work, he does have a hard time remembering important dates (more on that in the next section) but he does his best. Prefers simple and cute dates over fancy ones. He will take you to your favorite coffee shop and then to a bookshop the two of you frequent at. Takes note of which books your gaze seems to linger at and buys them for you when you aren't looking. For your birthday, he usually makes your gift himself, something that is both beautiful and sentimental. All his gifts are incredibly thoughtful and show just how much he listens and adores you.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He is a workaholic which makes him forget to take care of himself and often forget important dates such as anniversaries. This only becomes worse as Hextech progresses and the two of you often fight because of your conflicting points of view. You understand how important this is to him but would it kill him just to spend one night with you? On the other hand, Viktor is angry because he thinks you don't take his ambitions and goals seriously and he can be so stubborn that he starts acting very cold towards you. Once he realizes how much this is hurting you and that you're simply worried for his well-being, he relents and apologizes to you. He promises to do better and make up for lost time, going back to the sweet and thoughtful Vitya you fell in love with all those years ago.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Not too concerned, what's important to him is that he looks neat and proper. He doesn't think of himself as a handsome man until you reveal your fondness for his looks. Your compliments and love do wonders for his self-confidence and it shows in the way he moves and acts. He becomes a lot more sure of himself and assertive thanks to you.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Yes. Viktor has gotten so used to you and he doesn't know how he lived before he met you. He is a man of routine and to have you suddenly out of his life would crush him. To have you forcefully ripped away from his side would turn him into a cold and empty shell of a man he once was.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Once the two of you are official, he makes sure to buy you flowers every single week. Once he notices how much that gesture means to you, he makes ever-lasting ones out of metal and crystals so that they never wither. Still gets you real flowers every now and then because he knows you like to press them and keep them as sweet memories.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Viktor holds a strong dislike towards cold, ignorant and selfish people. Unfortunately there are many such personalities in Piltover and he despises them. People who turn a blind eye towards those in need and only look after their own gain disgust him. He wants a caring and kind partner, someone with a strong sense of empathy and justice.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Doesn't sleep for days and then crashes into a mini-coma. At this point, he might as well start injecting coffee directly into his bloodstream. His sleep habits improve thanks to you as you always remind him to get a healthy amount of sleep and replace his mugs of coffee with sweet milk. Sleep also comes easier to him and sounds a lot more inviting with you holding him in your arms.

#requests are open #arcane #arcane headcanons #arcane x reader #arcane viktor #viktor x reader #sfw alphabet #viktor league of legends #viktor arcane #arcane viktor x reader #arcane headcanon #arcane viktor x you #viktor x you #viktor x y/n #arcane viktor headcanons

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grogusmum · 2 months

Text

Class of 1974 Taking Chances Part 3: All In

Javier Peña X F!Reader

RATED: EXPLICIT 18+

WORD COUNT: 1800ish

WARNINGS: oral sex (f receiving) some swearing, As always, see something? Say something. Pop into my DMs and let me know so I can add anything I overlooked.

SERIES SUMMARY: Javier graduated from high school in 74', it's 1989. On a sort of whim he decides to go to his class reunion and sees his old flame, you.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Javi arrives in Vermont and is ready to take the plunge.

Part 2

Javier turns onto a dirt road, passing three large mailboxes, the faded red one has your last name and a little handprint in sky blue on it. A rippling hayfield and what has to be an ancient beech tree complete with a tire swing are to his left and an old stone wall with raspberry canes growing through it on his right. Javier can’t help but think he's entered a Norman Rockwell painting, and wonders if he's up for that, if he can fit into that. A DEA agent, who bent the rules into pretzels "to get the bad guy".

He has to take this chance; he knows he will regret it if he gets cold feet. Like last time with you and then with Loreena.

Driving past the tree, the road bends to the left and a farmhouse with an attached barn, common in New England, comes into view. A kid in overalls is in the dooryard with a black dog. He turns and calls into the house.

Then there you are, t-shirt, jeans, and tall Wellington boots, a pair of work gloves in your hand, and all trepidation washes away. Javier gets fully out of his fastback and swings the door closed. His hands settled on his belt. He looks down at his shoes and then tilts his head up a tick, his eyes raised to meet yours, eyebrows up in question.

Is this okay?

"Javi?" You ask, astonished, a smile nevertheless spreading across your face. Then you break into a run, gloves forgotten in the grass as you all but crash into him. His arms immediately wrap tightly around you; your feet leave the ground for a moment.

"You're here," you confirm, "you're h- I - wait, is everything okay?"

Your last conversations have been hard ones, Vermont and Texas are just so far, it feels more than just distance when it's not temporary. You feel it’s unfair to ask him to come to Vermont, to give up on his work and be so far from his father, and Javier knows you have a whole life here, making a living as a farmer, no easy feat these days, not to mention with a kid to raise.

"I thought we agreed long distance wasn't cutting it."

"It wasn't," Javier cups your cheek, his eyes roving your features with adoration.

"But I thought we- we decided... what's changed?"

"Me," Javier looks you full in the face, his chestnut eyes trained softly on yours. "I've changed, and I want you, wherever you are."

The corners of your eyes prickle, and you shake your head slowly in awe. Taking his face in your hands, his beautiful face, and slot your lips to his. You're glad he's got a good hold on you because your legs may never work properly again. When you finally come up for air, Javier takes his aviators off and looks at you, his eyes glassy too.

“Come on inside, let's have some lunch,” you take one of his fingers and give it a gentle tug as you lead him in the house. You give him a lopsided smile over your shoulder, and he huffs a laugh, again and again he wonders how he ever let go of you.

On the porch, you give your son, Benjamin a nod to come into the house he and Murphy the Dog, comply together.

Javier first smells the savory soup that must be on the stove. There's music playing from a radio. He takes in the house, from the outside it’s a picture of Americana, inside it's far more eclectic. The plaster walls above the wood wainscoting are painted in colors, rooms of sky blue, barn red, sage green… the floors are hodgepodge some are stained a warm honey color, while others have been painted, old folk art hook area rugs warming them up. Your love of theater, music, movies, and books is evident, from the marquee posters, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, and instruments, not just an upright piano that looks like it came from a school but a guitar, ukelele, some instruments he doesnt recognize, and some kind of brightly colored hand drum beside a basket of equally colorful small percussion instruments. Then Javier remembers you saying in the winter you run a sort of music playgroup for little kids to help pay the bills.

Your kitchen is sunny yellow, large with a high tin ceiling with fans hanging down. It feels like the center of the house, it’s heart. Not only a large round scrubbed wood table with plentiful mismatched chairs, but an overstuffed armchair by a pillow covered window seat that looks like an adult could sleep on. The music is coming from a radio/turntable console that has to be from the 40’s or 50’s.

It's all exactly you, and he can’t believe this is the first time he is seeing it. Part of the reason things weren’t working probably; the plan was to save on travel by “meeting in the middle” when you could get together. Then the rest was letters and phone calls, but that at 38¢ a minute... they were not long. He needed to see your life, and you needed to see his. But he didn’t want to show you that. Sure, he gave you the broad strokes, not really wanting to get into details. Another reason… what’s that, strike two? He can't mess up the next pitch.

“You look like you see a ball and chain in the corner,” you murmur, trying to disguise anxiety with sass.

“Nope, just realizing I should have come here months ago, babydoll.”

You smile, relief in your eyes.

“This is Benji,” you say pulling your son to a side hug. Murphy starts smelling Javier, closely. “And 'nosy Joe' here is Murphy.”

“Hi Benji. Your mom’s told me a lot about you, I’m Javi.” Javier pulls back his hips protectively and gives the Labrador a hand to smell. Chuckling, he murmers, “Murphy, huh?”

“Ben,” you say, with a nod at Murphy.

“Yeah sorry, come on Murph get out of there,” your son pulls Murphy away, “Sorry.”

After grilled cheese with soup and chatting with Benji about school (it’s okay) and baseball (I can’t believe we came in third! My favorite is Boggs), Benji asks if Javi brought his gun. (Earning a stern Benjamin Oliver! from you and a wink and a nod from Javi), and you encourage Benji to show Javier the farm while you clean up.

"Sure!" The boy bounds through the house, "come on!"

Javier kisses your forehead and follows.

"You work on a ranch?"

"Mmhm, it's my father's, it's big"

"Ours is small, just a few goats, sheep, chickens... we have two horses. Mom told me you have a cattle farm"

"Yep, cows and horses to wrangle them."

"Knock, knock."

Javier is quite for a beat from the abrupt switch, then smiles-

"Who's there?"

"Impatient cow."

"Impatient cow wh-"

"MOOOOO" Benji cuts across, and Javier gives him a satisfying burst of surprised laughter. He ruffles the boy's head-

"That's a good one, Ben. I needed a good knock knock joke."

Javi brings his overnight bag upstairs. Your room is a soft coral. The bed is tall, with a whitewash spindle headboard and a crazy quilt spread, complete with a calico cat at the end of it, who looks at Javi nonplussed.

“There is a bathroom off of my room, right through the closet- yeah, old houses,” you shrug.

After putting his bag on the cedar chest at the end of the bed, Javi reels you in for a kiss.

“So did I hear Benji go outside?”

You laugh, kissing him.

“Yeah, he went over to the neighbors, I told him we needed to talk about some stuff.”

“Talking’s good. But mmm, I can think of other ways to-“

Javi's hand cradles the back of your neck as he comes in for another deeper kiss. You hum a little at the taste of his lips and his mustache's rasp. You bring your pelvis in to meet his, which is taken as a green light. With the smooth grace of someone practiced, Javi brings your shirt over your head with hardly a break in his feast on your mouth, jaw, and neck. You unbutton his shirt hastily, and not as smoothly – it's been a while, and you aren't nearly as skilled. But you are gifted a soft groaning, ‘fuck’ when you dip your head to his now bare chest, and let your teeth graze one of his nipples. Javier backs you toward the bed. When you're spread out, legs dangling off the edge, he unbuttons your jeans, peeling them off you like a present he is looking to savor, as you watch on your elbows. Your bra and underpants remain. You sit up and pull at his buckle. Javier watches you, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you work his buckle open and off, then unbuttoning his jeans. He remembers his shoes and toes them off quickly, not wanting to lose momentum. Looking at you mostly bare, soft curves, silver stretch marks from carrying Benji, just gorgeous. His head shakes almost imperceptibly, thinking about the first time you “met part way” when you weren’t in a dark cramped car, when he could see you properly for the first time in fifteen years-

“Bonita, babydoll, you’re so beautiful… the years I missed-“

“We’ve got plenty of time, Javi, plenty.”

“I wish-“

“Me too. But we are here now.”

“We’re here now.”

You tug his pants down and pull him onto you, bringing him back to the present.

Javier tucks his narrow hips between your thighs, his elbows holding his torso over you, he searches your face-

“I never stopped loving you.”

“Me neither,” your hand goes into his hair, giving a soft tug at the curls on the nape of his neck, Javier gives a growl and kisses you hard on the lips, its teeth and tongue, nips and licks. When you give an involuntary buck, his smirk is dangerous. He licks his bottom lip and his eyes track down your body, his eyebrows quirk like he’s deciding something. Suddenly he’s off you.

“Jav, what are y-" your confused query becomes a gasp.

Javier puts his mouth on your clothed mound.

“Shit,” you breathe.

Javier’s nose nudges at your clit, making your legs quiver, then he takes the elastic of your undies in his teeth and he draws them down slowly, his fingers looping the sides to help them along.

Your chest rises and falls quickly with anticipation, as you look at the ceiling. His breath fanning over your center tells you right where he is, and then the flat of his tongue draws a stripe from your entrance to your clit.

“Nectar of the gods, babydoll,” Javier moans and makes a meal of you.

Your head is heavy on his chest as you doze, which is no longer tight, and your quiet snores are like music, a comforting song. The afternoon sunshine streams in the open window. He watches the curtains flutter and dust motes dance in the disturbed air, as he hears birds, he doesn’t know. He is in uncharted territory and he has no plans to fuck it up. You are his compass, and years of what not to do is his map.

Before falling to sleep, he showed you his skeletons, you know what he’s done.

You will talk more. About about him, and his work. About what life might look like up here for him, like a warning. You'll stumble over the term 'stepdad', not wanting to presume… but you need to know for Benji, if he really wants this. And he does want it-

All of it.

THANK YOU FOR READING 💚

You can find more of my work here and if you would care to be tagged for this or any of my writing fill out my taglist form

#javier peña x you #javier peña #javier peña x f!reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction #taking chances

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agent-cupcake · 2 years

Text

Trouble Man

This marks my third completed commissioned fic! I may have gone a little far in places, added some unnecessary flourishes... Either way, thank you to the person who commissioned this (and all of you) for being so patient with me!

Pairing: Arkhamverse Jason Todd x f!reader

Synopsis: After a chance meeting late one night while Jason—the Arkham Knight—is playing civilian, he develops a bit of a crush. Months later, after the events of the base game, your unfortunate involvement in a crime requires a visit from Red Hood to coax out some honest answers.

Warnings: explicit smut, dubcon, murder ment., stalking, angst, gun kink, rough sex, possessive behavior

Notes: I must give a big girthy thanks to my sweet muse and local DC expert for her help on this, it wouldn't exist without her help. It's also important to recommend you all watch clips from Arkham Knight - Red Hood because the delivery of his oneliners are absolute gold. Jason Todd has definitely risen to the upper echelon of tragic men in my life, he's worth your attention.

Word Count: 17k

Dry leaves crackled like paper through the breeze, tumbling over brown grass and grinding beneath your feet as you walked through the park, hands shoved deep into your pockets and head down. Their colors had changed as the trees shed, creating a sea of red and orange and yellow paste over the sidewalk.

You thought walking home instead of taking the subway would help. Walking was what people did to think, to contemplate their life and their future, to pace out the excess energy that came with stress. But the autumn sun was bright and cold. A storm threatened the horizon in smeared shades of mean dark gray. The air stank of rotting foliage and filth. With each breath, you suffocated on it, choking on smog and the sour scent of Gotham’s streets, choking on the rising tide of existential dread, choking on this looming fear of something you knew existed yet couldn’t quite see.

The question of what you were going to do echoed in the back of your mind, even if the answer was decided. Because it was unfair, because you were scared. All you could think about were the shiny reporters on the television gleefully claiming that crime rates had fallen, that Batman had cleaned up the city, that everyone was saved. It was funny to think that you got this job with the idea that you could turn your life around, a small step towards salvaging your life. Who would have thought anything would be wrong with a place called something as dumb as the Palace of Pies?

What a fine mess it all was. Your head ached, your throat swollen with angry tears and a frustrating, primal need to excise the tempest of emotions you crushed down. Idly, you wondered what would happen if you were to stop in your tracks and begin screaming. Would anyone look? Would anyone stop and ask what was the matter? You didn’t think so. People would step around you, avoiding eye contact. That’s what you would do. Everything in the city, if not trying to actively harm you, was passively hostile. Looking beyond yourself was how you got hurt. Being surrounded by people only made you more aware of how alone you were, how aggressive isolation en masse could be.

With the weather turning so quickly, few people lingered in the park, merely passing through on their way to or from something. Always going, moving, acting with purpose and a destination, paying no mind to the changing season. When you were younger, you loved the fall. Back when costumes were saved for Halloween and horror was strictly contained to the scary movies you watched without your parent’s permission. Who needed a creepy corn maze or haunted house when you had the privilege of living in Gotham City?

You breathed out, trying to exhale those thoughts. Trying to think. Clearly, for once, although it was hard when you never got enough sleep, when you never had any space to seek clarity. Gotham was a place without peace. You could never find solace away from the people and the noise and the claustrophobic streets and decaying walls that seemed to close in the longer you stayed. It was inescapable, no matter where you were. The breeze churned up all manner of unsavory smells, carrying the sound of people talking and dogs barking and cars honking, cluttering your senses. It was never quiet, never clean, never calm, never safe. Just last week, a woman had been brutally stabbed to death only a half mile away from the path you were on. Her dog too. Part of you feared stories like that, knowing it could just as easily happen to you. Part of you didn’t care, really. So what if it did.

And yet, the plastic newswoman cried with religious fervor, crime was down. Thank God for that.

When you got down, you knew quite surely that you would die here. The city that once held the sparkling allure of hopes and dreams and promise, a life grander than you could have in a small town upstate, turned out to be nothing more than a slaughterhouse.

These days, these terrible, sentimental days, you could imagine it. Dialing the numbers—you knew they wouldn’t have changed, even after all this time, nothing ever changed there—and holding the phone up to your ear with a clammy hand, hearing her voice for the first time in years.

“Hey mom.” You would sound sheepish, your voice up a few halftones to mimic the girlish sound you had before you left. “It’s me. It’s been a while. I know, I’m sorry. I know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m—”

You wouldn’t. You couldn’t. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was mercy. Mostly it was just pride. Anger. This was the bed you made and you could hate yourself and you could hate the man who sold you pretty lies and you could hate the wretched city and you could hate your dead end job working for an obvious criminal but you could hate them too, if nothing else then just to try and cope with it all.

You shoved your hands deeper into your pockets and lowered your head to brace against the wind. A storm was going to hit soon.

II.

The rattling thunder was what snapped you alert, the metal shelves lined with plastic bottles and boxes of toilet paper trembling with the force of it. You’d meant to take a short break, but somehow you had managed to doze off sitting on an upturned bucket in the back room, leaning against the wall amidst cleaning supplies with your eyes closed and mind wandering far away, lulled by the sound of rain on the roof. Thinking of home, of the wind knocking the pale limbs of aspen trees against your window as gentler storms passed through the town, watching lightning from your bed and hiding beneath the covers at the thunder.

Annoyed with yourself, you stood up, grabbed the napkins, and returned to the front of the house to do your table rounds before you got in trouble.

Nobody really seemed to care either way. The few customers that had trudged into the inauthentically kitschy restaurant at such a late hour were soaked and cold and cranky and addled by some substance or another. Despite the attempts to cheer the place up with warm lighting and friendly decor, the whole restaurant had a dour atmosphere. Dark, miserable, heavy with the kind of mundane tragedy that carried the careers of famous poets. It seemed as if, no matter how bright the lights shined, they couldn’t fight off the creeping shadows of Gotham.

In other words, it was a normal night for you. Too many hours on your feet, too much caffeine, too few full nights of rest. Nobody else wanted the late shift waiting tables in city like this and it wasn’t like you blamed them—God only knew that you didn’t want to be here either—but you were too strapped for cash to be picky. In a way, you imagined your brain was attempting to help you by conjuring fantasies of better times. But happy memories only got more and more sour with age, the highs casting the lows in thicker shadow.

Better not to think of it. Your shift was almost done. Just get the night over with, and then the day would be over. You didn’t think of what came after that, didn’t dare to consider tomorrow. Short term goals were easier to handle, easier to stomach. Nothing else was worth thinking about.

It was almost fate, if you were the type to believe in such things. You were looking for a distraction from your thoughts and he showed up as the clock’s little hand neared twelve and you knew immediately that he was different. Despite the downpour, he had no umbrella. What he did have was a black hoodie with the hood pulled up, the fabric soaked through and clinging to his torso, and an aura of disquiet, obviously unlike the hungry stoners and the late workers and the otherwise normal folks who came in. A chill and trail of rainwater chased him inside to where he sat at the counter, empty red vinyl barstools surrounding him on both sides. Different wasn’t good or bad, necessarily. If he was the type to make trouble, the cook, a guy you knew only as Ace, would scare him off with his 32. Different was, at the very least, distracting. You put on a smile and rounded the counter.

“How are you doing tonight?” you asked in a serviceably friendly voice as you took the pot of coffee from the warmer and poured him a cup.

His eyes were lucid enough, at least enough that you didn’t think he was on drugs. The two of you sized each other up for a moment before he gave you an ironic half smile that clearly asked ‘how do you think I’m doing?’ Which was fair. Close up, you could see that he had a developing bruise right on his cheekbone, although the more striking feature was the mark on the opposite cheek. It looked like the letter J had been carved into the skin. An old wound, the skin pale and puckered with scar tissue. Best guess, it was a gang thing. That was part and parcel for Gotham, and especially for the Palace.

But, bruise and scars and all, that sarcastic little grin was attractive. He wasn’t exactly tall, dark, and handsome, but whatever the more menacing equivalent was.

“Wet,” was all he said after a long moment, his tone ironically dry.

You reached under the counter to grab a clean towel, sliding it over to him. He eyed it suspiciously. “Might help a little,” you explained. He didn’t look convinced, but there was no way he wasn’t cold. You felt cold just looking at him. “Come on, you’re dripping everywhere as is,” you told him with a huff, gesturing to the water he’d tracked in. It was too late to fix now, but watching him literally drip rain water was just a touch too melodramatically sad even for you.

Hesitating, he looked down and behind himself at the puddles that had followed him inside. While he didn’t have the grace to so much as pretend to be apologetic, he did accept your offer and began toweling off his hair. It was dark and cut short, save for the bangs that were a stark white. Was that a gang thing too? It worked, oddly. Or, he was odd and it worked.

“Anyway,” you said, reverting to your patented professional tone to cover the fact that you had been staring. “Can I get you started with something to drink?”

“Just coffee’s fine,” he told you, tossing the towel back onto the counter and running a hand through his semi-dried hair to keep it pushed back. Despite your best attempts at professionalism, your eyes tracked the motion. He was wearing gloves. Probably to hide a set of bruised knuckles, a person didn’t catch a shiner like that playing nice.

"Do you have any questions about the menu?” you asked. “Tonight's special is-"

"Yeah, I’ll have that.”

Considering he hadn’t so much as glanced at the menu or let you finish the pitch, his eyes scanning the restaurant with a restlessly critical look, you doubted he even knew what he was ordering. Maybe he didn’t care.

“Alright,” you said. “Anything else?”

“Nope,” he said, finally looking back at you. His eyes were pretty, even bloodshot and shadowed with exhaustion. Blue, lined with thick black lashes that still sparkled with rain whenever he blinked.

“If you need anything else,” you told him, “just let me know.”

“Will do.”

Quickly scribbling the order onto your pad, you slid it across the window to Ace in exchange for finished meals and did your rounds. Table seven got their hash browns, over easy eggs, and chicken tenders. Table five got their big pieces of banana pie. All the while, you couldn't help but feel that the man at the counter was watching you. He probably wasn’t. Or maybe he was. Not that you actually, really cared that much either way. You didn’t want to check though, just in case.

When you returned to the window between the kitchen to drop off the dishes, you saw the Ace was gone. Probably for another cigarette break. Of course. The man’s addiction to nicotine was astounding. But he wouldn’t be punished for it, even if you complained. The quality of his work was unimportant, he was a part of it. Whatever Mr. Anthony’s real business was, Ace was his guy.

You grabbed the chicken fried steak meal—the day's special—and delivered it to the mysterious customer at the counter. He eyed the food hungrily, barely responding to your offer of “If you need anything else…” before digging in.

The clock said you had forty five or so minutes before closing, which meant an hour or more left. You could do another hour. Another two hours, if you were being realistic. But you rounded down, it was easier to handle that way. Refilling drinks, cleaning up tables, sweeping the floors, you did these things on autopilot. Table five, a pair of young junkies you were decently familiar with by now, finished their meal and paid. You checked them out with a smile all of you knew was fake, taking their lack of tip with a brave face.

The door opened with a little burst of rain washing over the threshold as they left, the sound of it pounding against the blacktop abrasively loud. Even if you knew it wasn’t actually a fact, you didn’t think it ever stopped raining in Gotham, as if God himself was trying to wash the city away in some form of biblical vengeance.

“I was surprised to see a place like this open this time of night,” the man at the counter said. You jumped a little at the sound of his voice, turning away from the register with the uncomfortable realization that he had most definitely been staring, at least just now. He didn’t try to hide it either, his elbows propped up on the counter and head tilted at a slight angle. His plate was almost empty, which made sense considering the ferocity with which he’d been eating.

“Yep, we’re open till one,” you said, trying not to seem flustered.

“Don’t you think it's a little dangerous to be working so late?” he asked. It was difficult to read his tone. Not quite a warning, but not a joke either. “Gotham’s not a very nice place.”

You shrugged. “This area isn’t that dangerous.”

“And after you leave?”

Once again, you couldn’t place his tone. You didn’t want to automatically think the worst of the man, but you weren’t naive enough to miss the possible threat. “You know, it’d be pretty easy to take a question like that the wrong way,” you told him bluntly, taking a somewhat playful tone to hide your discomfort and diffuse the question. “I wouldn’t. But someone else might.”

“They might,” he agreed easily.

“Not that I think you meant anything by it.”

“I never said I was the one you needed to worry about.”

He had to be messing with you. Either that or he was deranged. The slightly ironic upturn of his mouth made you think—or hope—that it was the former. “Either way, it is what it is,” you said, waving your hand dismissively. “Que sera and all that.”

He hesitated, eyebrows knitting slightly. “Kay… What?”

“You know, like the song,” you said. “What will be, will be. Was it Rosemary Clooney? Or… Doris Day, I think.” He stared at you, obviously lost. You waved it off again, shaking your head. “Anyway, the point is that I’m fine."

He grunted noncommittally, clearly not buying it. "Bet whoever's waiting for you at home hates it that you’re gone so late.”

You snorted. “If I had someone waiting for me, do you really think I’d be here?” It occurred to you a second too late that he might have been flirting, surreptitiously asking if you were single. Or maybe he wanted to know if a potential mark had anyone to worry about her getting home. The fact that you couldn’t really tell was probably a bad sign. “And anyway, I hate to be rude,” you continued blithely, brute forcing a change of topic, “but I’m not sure you’re the one who should be giving out safety tips.” Your eyes lingered pointedly on the bruise swelling up his cheek. You’d had bruises like that in the past and, no matter what you told anybody, they didn’t come from being clumsy.

“Oh, this?” His hand raised, fingertips coming into contact with the swollen injury like he’d forgotten it was there. “You should see the other guy.”

Red flag? Innocuous boast?

“Hopefully he’s in handcuffs by now,” you said, picking the route of deflection. “I mean, hitting a handsome face like yours must be breaking some law.”

“Well, he wouldn’t be the first,” he said, something dark and ironic marring his otherwise confident demeanor. That reaction gave you pause, your eyes catching on the letter carved into his cheek. There were more scars too, old ones.

“Ah, sorry,” you said, nerves catching up to your attempt at a cool demeanor. “I have a tendency to make jokes out of things that… aren’t funny.”

“I’m not very big on comedy.”

“Well, you’re in luck because I’m not funny,” you told him. “I only pretend like I am.”

“So all of this,” he said, gesturing vaguely, “was a joke?” Unlike his previous statement, the question sounded more lighthearted. It made you doubt yourself all over again, worried you had overcorrected with the apology.

“Not… everything,” you replied. “I-”

“Got an order of mozzarella sticks,” Ace called, cutting you off.

While the cook’s voice merely surprised you, the man at the counter tensed up immediately, his body going taut in preparation to jump up. You blinked, kicking yourself for getting carried away, unnerved by the man’s reaction. It was the quick trigger response to stress you knew fairly well. He relaxed immediately, or at least untensed slightly. The shift was so fast, it was as if it hadn’t happened.

“Sorry, I’ve gotta,” you motioned behind yourself, feeling apologetic for some reason.

“Do your job?” he asked dryly.

“Yeah, that. Let me know if-”

“Will do.”

You nodded and turned away, tending to the other tables and cleaning up so you could get off at a semi-reasonable time. It was impossible to not feel overly aware of the man at the counter. You wondered if he was actually interested or if he was just playing along. You wondered what you looked like to him. You wondered why he’d gotten hit in the face. You wondered a lot of things, had so many questions you knew you’d never get an answer to. The scars, the haunted look in his eyes. He was dangerous, you were pretty confident of that. He was something else too. You thought. Then again, it was just as likely that you wanted to think the best of this handsome stranger. It wouldn’t be the first time you made a dumb mistake like that.

A few minutes later, after the banana pie couple paid and left, you returned to the man at the counter, clearing his clean plate. “Can I get you anything else?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll take the check.”

“No pie?”

“It’s late,” was all he said, rolling his shoulders slowly. There was a hunch to them, something you hadn’t noticed before. It contrasted with his otherwise poised form.

“That’s completely missing the whole point of eating here,” you told him sternly. “What do you like? Cherry? Pumpkin?”

He snorted. “I’ll pass.”

“It’s on me,” you told him. When he opened his mouth to argue, you added, “—and in a to-go box. I know for a fact that it’ll make your night better. Think of it as thanks."

"Thanks for what?"

"For reminding me that there are people having a worse night than me,” you said with a smile. “Now, what’s your favorite?"

He stared at you for a long moment and you wondered if you had finally crossed that oh-so thin line of propriety. Then he smiled, shrugged. “Dealer’s choice.”

In the end, he left with a cardboard box of vanilla cream pie and an expressive combination of amused bemusement on his face. You helped Ace close up, going over your interaction over and over in your head, eventually coming to the conclusion that you had made a fool of yourself. You always liked to seem so clever, as if anyone would be impressed, as if anyone would think of you outside the liminal space of the stupid little resturaunt, as if you could even exist outside of what service you could offer. You didn’t even know his name.

It was still raining when you left.

III.

Sometimes, you had a tough time being positive.

Most of the time, really.

Gotham did that to people.

But you did try, it was just difficult when you got off late and held your bag close as you traversed the creepy empty subway and the filth that lined the underground, your head down to avoid the hungry eyes of stray beggars. More and more, you were getting off late, closing time getting pushed back to account for the shipments coming in the back. You played dumb, but you weren’t entirely stupid to what was going on. Drugs? Weapons? You didn’t know the details of what was happening. You didn’t want to know the details, you didn’t want to admit that you saw anything you weren’t supposed to. You were selfish, all you knew for sure was that something was going on and you were afraid and alone.

It was like being a ghost, like being trapped in some hellish nightmare where each day repeated itself without end.

When you boarded the subway, you huddled in a corner seat, giving the train a cursory glance before ducking your head again. Time and time again, you thought you noticed the same hooded person on your way home. Never close enough to see a face, just the shadow of a figure in another car or across a crowd. And you didn’t think you would be so sensitive, so hyper aware of it, if you didn’t get the awful impression that somebody had been into your apartment sometimes when you got home. There was no proof. A mess where you thought you had tidied, old things you had shoved into drawers to be forgotten sitting on top of your dresser.

But, you reasoned, if you were being followed, if Mr. Anthony’s crimes were significant to warrant that sort of thing, you would have known, surely. You would be able to come up with evidence, with something solid. Unraveling sanity wasn’t fact. You were just tired, overworked, and stressed. You were a fool girl all alone in a city whose natural process was to chew up innocence and spit it out into the trash that littered the streets. The ultimate fact was that you weren’t interesting enough to be followed. There were a dozen girls just like you in the city. More, probably, and most of them were more interesting too.

In the worst way, in the darkest parts of your mind, you thought it would almost be flattering to have a stalker. To matter to someone. And that was just…

You couldn’t follow that thought to its natural conclusion. It was better to stare at the filthy floor beneath your feet and listen to the city’s abrasive symphony.

IV.

The restaurant was relatively busy when the news came. On Halloween, people wanted a place to eat before or after the night’s entertainment. And entertainment was what they got, footage of people infected with Scarecrow’s fear toxic, their brains twisted and driven insane. It was a massacre.

“Gotham, this is your only warning.”

Scarecrow’s announcement broadcasted through the city after that terrifying footage played. Evacuation instructions were issued shortly after, but the damage was done, the panic had begun. Through radios, televisions, loudspeakers, megaphones, everywhere was the same message. Get out. Escape.

But it was mayhem. Footage of the Scarecrow’s face, of the savagery in the diner, was projected just as prolifically as information on how to evacuate. Watching customers leave the Palace of Pies was like watching a concert crush, bodies congealing at the door as they desperately tried to get out.

And you, not knowing what to do, joined them. All around were screaming children in their costumes, people fighting and shouting at each other, others trying to direct foot traffic in some attempt to play hero. Everywhere was chaos and you couldn’t ground yourself in reality, it didn’t feel real. It couldn’t possibly be real.

You passed a woman shouting for her child, begging passersby to help her. You passed someone looking around with wild eyes, asking nobody in particular what he was supposed to do. Nobody answered, nobody stopped, nobody helped.

The police had checkpoints set up, alarms blaring past the relentless, all consuming noise. People rammed into one another in a block of bodies, stinking of rain water and sweat and city filth all stirred up by too many feet. Another bus peeled away from the curb, you could only see the glistening top of it and hear the shouting, people begging to be let on. You didn’t like your chances of getting on one of those buses. They filled up nearly as fast as they hit the curb, it didn’t matter how many came, the crowd only got bigger, swelling to an unmanageable size despite the domineering corralling of the police officers.

Someone elbowed you hard in the stomach and you stumbled. The noise and panic was too intense for your cry to rise above the roar of voices, of babies screaming and wheels squealing and rain pounding. Like a violent, churning ocean, the crowd gathered and heaved and you were pushed from the tumultuous tide, forced into the back of the hoard. All you could imagine was yourself all alone, abandoned on the streets of Gotham, driven mad like the people in the video.

What terror would you see? What waking nightmare would your mind torment you with? You had a few guesses.

A crack in the sidewalk caught your toe, upsetting your balance entirely. Falling onto the concrete tore up the skin of your knee in an ugly way, the shredded skin immediately welling bright red blood. Nobody stopped for you, someone’s boot came dangerously close to smashing your fingers before you flinched away.

A gloved hand entered your vision, and you realized it was meant for you. His grip was steady and firm as he helped you to your feet. Your rescuer, a tall, imposing man, was saying your name. Your name. You didn’t recognize him, not even slightly, and you couldn’t comprehend it, too panicked, too confused, your ears ringing something fierce.

“Do I know you?” you asked him, trying to escape his grip without any success, distrust freezing your fear.

“Stay close to me, you’re getting on this bus,” he told you, diving back into the crowd without any further explanation. You barely registered his words, too busy stumbling along. His grip on your hand was firm, unyielding even as you tried to pull back, trying to make yourself heard over the crowd as you demanded you know who he was or what was happening.

Unlike you, he had no problem parting the tumultuous waves of people. They swore and lashed out like wild animals, but after a suffocating march, you broke out into the front. The bus was loaded, the final few people attempting to fight their way onto the bus swarming like angry wasps. You held fast onto the man as he knifed his way to the officer guiding the crush. Everybody was shouting, wailing. Violent elbows thrown and bodies jostling and it was too much. You were confused and scared and suspicious, but you weren’t stupid either. All you could do was cling to the man dragging you along and hunch your shoulders as if you were weathering a storm.

The officer tried to stop the man leading you, holding up his baton threateningly, but your guide didn’t back down. Whatever he said to the officer made him frown, the cop looking you up and down with a hard look. You were prepared for rejection, to be physically thrown away from the door like the other people who tried to board without permission.

“Go,” your guide shouted, releasing you. The immediate urge was to reject him, but you were given a hard push and tripped upward on the steps, your palms scraping the gritty traction mats. People were cursing and spitting and screaming at you from behind, but the officer didn’t stop you. No matter what the circumstances, you didn’t really have a choice but to obey.

Inside, the bus stank of sweat and rainwater and filth and you were met with various degrees of hostility, anxiety, and glassy indifference. People packed into the faded and torn seats like canned fish, clutching their bags close and curled in on themselves out of distrust for their fellow man. Hands pounded at the windows, faces pressed to the glass. You took a look back, but the man who’d escorted you was gone. The door unfolded and shut with a painful squeal.

After being snapped at by the driver, you claimed one of the last available spots next to a mother and her weeping child. A pumpkin was painted on the kid’s round, ruddy cheek, streaked with tears. The mom looked at you with narrowed eyes and you looked away, focusing on the blood welling up and crusting over your skinned knee.

Almost laughably, one of the few thoughts you could scrape together was that you didn’t have a toothbrush.

Palace of Pies, just like so many palaces before it, survived the siege. Your apartment complex fared slightly worse, but the damage was mostly superficial. The hot water was out for a week and you had to pass a city full of wreckage just to get a box of cereal. All the same, you were lucky. You returned from the emergency shelter to a life pretty much intact. Gotham was a different story. Batman unmasked, billionaire dead, a city secured and returned to its people. Mostly.

It was advertised as a good conclusion to a terrible situation, but that seldom held true. That was how it always went for those who lived beyond the tall buildings and glittering lights. Gotham had reached an equilibrium of sorts before the attack, somewhat, but now it was all busted. Criminals, the petty ones, the ones that had nothing to do with super villains or masked vigilantes, scurried around like rats. The fallout rattled even the most minor of them into a panic. And then there were stories about something worse than Batman. Successors or ghosts or whatever. These days, the Palace of Pies felt more like the den of a cornered animal.

And you hadn’t meant to see anything, only wanting to leave a note that recommended a repairman be sent for the old coffee maker that was broken again, but another order sheet was on the very top of Mr. Anthony’s desk. Some of it was written in code or with strange nicknames, but you knew enough to decipher what was being ordered. Chemicals for drugs and parts you assumed were used in weapons manufacturing. All signed off by a man named Hector on behalf of his employer. While you had no idea who Hector might have been, you definitely recognized the name of his boss.

Christ.

Seeing it all written down, for some reason, was the thing to send you over. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t known that shady things were happening before, and it was stupid to buy into the dream that crime would simply go away, that criminals would change their ways. It was one thing for Mr. Anthony to be affiliated with local gangs, but he’d taken it a step further. A big, terrible step further. Your eyes scanned the sheet with increasing fear and discomfort, reality like a vice around your heart.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” Ace asked from the doorway, startling you. The sound of his voice nearly caused you to jump out of your skin. But you didn’t give into your fear, turning and facing him like nothing was wrong. His face was red, twisted with a form of rage you were all too familiar with.

“The coffee maker’s broken,” you told him.

“You’re not allowed in here,” he said, his hand poised like he was going for his gun.

“The door was unlocked,” you pointed out, refusing to feed into his anger by showing your fear. It was an old trick, the kind that always made things worse, but it was satisfying nonetheless. It was his own fault, his own carelessness, it wasn’t like you wanted to know that your boss was working for an insane cultist.

“Get out of here,” Ace told you, his voice low and eyes all but slits. “Now.”

The urge to get in the last word, to be clever, to be stupidly defiant, almost made you say something that would really set him off. Almost. It was the look in his narrowed eyes, the way his hand was settled on his gun, that made you reconsider.

Ace smelled foul, like stale cigarette smoke and grease, as you passed him in the doorway. You held your breath all the way into the bathroom where you promptly threw up three cups of coffee and a stomach full of sour bile, eventually falling back onto the dirty tile with your eyes closed.

VI.

Mr. Anthony had just finished a meeting with a group of unfamiliar men in the back room when he ordered his customary piece of cherry pie. Mostly unfamiliar men. Some faces came around often enough for you to recognize and now that you knew what you were looking for, figuring out who “Hector” was wasn’t difficult. Both he and his employer had a particular style. Cults were like that.

Just thinking of it made your stomach twist with nausea. Nobody knew what happened to many of the criminals after the incident in Arkham Asylum, and that was obscured further by the reform that had taken place recently. Speculation floated around Gotham, but that was all it ever was. Speculation. And you could hope that it was just a copycat criminal, you could hope that someone had stolen the moniker, but if it was him, if that was who Mr. Anthony had teamed up with, sticking around was borderline suicidal.

But when you thought about that, you were reminded with a cold sort of brutality that you had nowhere to go.

All you could do was serve Mr. Anthony the cherry pie he ordered with a polite demeanor and hope. Hope for salvation, for some sort of divine intervention. You thought about your rescuer from Halloween night, wondered who it was, why he had helped you, how he had known you. You wondered if he would come back, if he would save you again. But those were the thoughts of an idealistic child, you knew that. Real life was never so kind.

“Can I get you anything else, sir?” you asked.

Mr. Anthony looked sicklier by the day. He was putting on more weight, his face puffy and pale like pastry dough, his big forehead shiny with sweat. He was drinking heavily from a gold plated flask, his movements jittery and eyes shifting nervously around the restaurant even after his associates were gone.

“Yeah, why don’t you sit down. Take a little break,” Mr. Anthony offered in a would-be casual voice, gesturing to the empty chair with his fork. “I wanna have a chat.”

Your heart sunk into your stomach like a rock. Did he know? Had he guessed your thoughts? Had Ace told him what you had accidentally seen? Fighting your creeping dread, you did as he indicated. It wasn’t like anybody was coming in, the place was dead. These days, it was almost always dead.

“Yes?” you asked, feigning innocence despite the way your voice shook.

“I bet you’ve noticed that things have changed around here,” Mr. Anthony said. Although he was drinking, his dark eyes were lucid when they focused on you. A man as paranoid as him wouldn’t get drunk in public, it was just to ease the edge. You knew all about that.

“I guess. But everything has changed since the incident,” you responded carefully. “I think the Palace has recovered well though.” He wasn’t stupid, the both of you knew that wasn’t what he asked. But there was a time for cheek and a time for honesty and you were too scared for either, your nerves rubbed raw.

"Do you like working here?" he asked rather than push you on that, abruptly shifting the conversation.

"I do," you told him, pouring as much sincerity into the words as you could manage.

"You feel like you're being treated fairly?"

"Yes, sir.”

“I like to make sure my employees are happy,” he stressed. “You know what I mean, happy?”

“Yes, I think I do.”

“Running a business is like being the captain of a ship. If anybody steps out of line, we all sink together. I’ve gotta keep a tight ship,” he emphasized the point by making a fist, a fast movement that made you flinch. “That’s the only way we can stay afloat.”

“I understand,” you emphatically agreed. Then you hesitated, thinking. He needed more. He needed reassurance. Wiping your sweaty hands on your apron, you cleared your throat. “You’ve always treated me with respect, I wouldn’t do something to betray that. It’s tough to find respect in this city.”

"Yeah, that’s true. You're a smart girl,” Mr. Anthony said, nodding, taking another big drink from his flask. “Got a good head on your shoulders." He chuckled. Prickling discomfort ran down the entire length of your spine. "You’re not gonna do anything stupid. No, no, you’re a smart girl. You know what’s good for you.” A vague sort of mania shone in his dark eyes and you knew what he meant. If you turned on him or his associates in any way, you were as good as dead. It wouldn’t matter even a bit if you wound up in a ditch outside of town, nobody would care. But if you were smart, you would keep your mouth shut and continue doing what you were told. You would ignore the things you saw and continue to serve his cherry pie with a smile.

“Thank you, sir,” you said.

Mr. Anthony didn’t say anything, but he didn’t dismiss you either. He just shoved forkful after forkful of pie into his mouth, pausing every few bites for a drink. A catchy top ten pop song played distantly over the radio.

“Do you have a family?” Mr. Anthony finally asked, his eyes a little glazed over as he considered the last few bites of pie. He wasn’t quite drunk, but his words were slurred.

“I moved away from home a while back,” you said cautiously, unsure of why he’d ask.

“What about a boyfriend?”

You almost replied with something acerbic and deflective, defiant that he’d ask something so personal. But you didn’t, swallowing down the disgust and discomfort. “No, sir.”

“Well, you’re still young,” he said. “I got married younger than you are now, you know.”

“Yes, sir,” you told him. “I’ve met your wife.”

“My wife…” He grimaced. “Not anymore. We’re separated now. She abandoned ship, didn’t agree with my decisions…” His statement trailed off, his expression solemn, grave. “That’s how it goes in Gotham. We’re all alone. No matter what you do, how hard you try…” Mr. Anthony shook his head, taking another drink from his flask only to realize it was empty. He scowled at that too. “I can’t stand disloyalty. Can’t stomach it. You know what I mean?”

“I do.”

“Respect, that’s all I ask for. Respect and loyalty.”

“And pie?” you ventured, forcing a smile in a desperate attempt to lighten the mood.

Mr. Anthony hesitated before returning your smile. The way he laughed sent shivers down your back, that same manic sound from before. “Yeah, you’re a smart girl. I can count on you, can’t I?”

“Yes, sir.”

In the end, you walked away from the encounter with a stomach full of sickening dread and a dollar raise and you knew, in your heart of hearts, that if you left now or anytime soon, you were as good as dead. Maybe you were dead anyway. Rescue wouldn’t come. Not for you, not again.

VII.

Hearing a gunshot in such close proximity wasn’t like in the movies. The sound tore through the air violently. It blasted your ears, leaving them ringing, making the ensuing commotion sound like it was happening under water. You weren’t supposed to be here, but you’d left your coat and had keys to the back door so you thought it would be okay. If you had just grabbed your coat and left, it would have been fine. But you heard the shouting and-

The sound of a gun cleared some things up, at least.

You weren’t sure what came over you, what could have possibly compelled you to investigate. It was as if your body wasn’t your own, as if you were merely operating something mechanical as you peered into the front of the restaurant from the dark kitchen. The lights were on, the warm lights that fought to be inviting against Gotham’s gloom. The place was clean and empty. Everything was where it should have been.

Almost everything.

Blood splattered the white tile floor in a gruesome spray, dripping from the red vinyl seats and beading up on the plastic tabletop. Mr. Anthony slumped in his chair, his body limp and doughy chin bulging out over his shirt collar. A half eaten piece of pie sat in front of him. There was nothing dramatic about it, really. It wasn’t like you could see his soul exit through his eyes or anything. They just stared.

Hector, a familiar face by now, was the one holding a gun. Several other men were in the room. As soon as you were noticed, all of them had their guns trained on you.

“I’m sorry, I…” the words sounded distant, even if you were the one to speak them. For the first time since you moved to Gotham, all you heard was silence. It was the most dreadful sound you had ever heard.

“You’re the waitress,” Hector finally said. He was the only one not pointing his gun at you. Instead, he raised a hand, beckoning you closer. “Come here.”

That wasn’t the sort of order someone refused, not when you had three guns pointed directly at your chest. You didn’t think you would be capable of running anyway. On heavy, trembling legs, you slowly trudged forward, trying to avoid eye contact with your dead boss. His blood was forming a big stain on the front of his suit, pooling on the floor. “There’s no need to be frightened.” Hector waved his hand, motioning for the men to put their guns down.

“I’m sorry,” you said again, your voice somewhat more clear because the magnitude of the situation was setting in and, although surreal, pragmatism had to kick in like it always had, self preservation lending you some steel.

“Your boss spoke very highly of you,” Hector said, placing a heavy hand on your shoulder. Everything within you demanded you slap his hand off of you, that you lash out against the unwanted touch. But you didn’t, you couldn’t. “He said you’re smart, that he could trust you.”

“I…” Your eyes returned to Mr. Anthony. He wasn’t moving, just slumped to the side, eyes wide open.

“No, don’t look at him,” Hector scolded, shaking your shoulder a little. When your eyes met his in fear of the slight violence, he released you. “I feel bad for you, I really do. This is an unfortunate situation.” He sighed, rubbing a hand across his face. “But I think I can make it work.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” you told him. “I won’t, I’ll-”

“No, no,” Hector said. “There’s no need for that. I want you to tell everyone about this. You’re going to call the police and tell them exactly what happened.” He looked past you, at one of his men. “Is the place clean?”

“Yeah, they won’t find anything.”

“Good, good.” Hector met your eyes. “Now, you’re going to call the police. You tell the opperator that you witnessed a murder, okay? They’ll come with their police cars and paramedics and all that, and they’re going to take you to the station to get your statement.”

“I-”

“Don’t talk, just listen,” Hector told you. “Here’s what you’re going to tell them-”

“I didn’t see them when I came in, but I could hear them through the window between the front and back,” you told the officer, your voice wobbling, fresh tears tracking through the caked salt on your cheeks. People described shock as a numbing agent, as escapism, but you didn’t think you had ever been so aware of yourself than in that moment. Aware of sweat dripping down your neck, aware of the sour taste on the back of your tongue, aware of the unsteadiness of your breathing, the racing of your heart. “I forgot my coat and so I came back to get it, I didn’t think anything of it.”

“What happened after that?” she asked, taking down your statement in a little notebook. The interview was being held in an office and they’d given you a can of soda from the vending machine. You were a witness. A victim.

“They didn’t notice me,” you said. “They-”

“They?” she prompted, cutting you off.

You swallowed hard, a lump forming in your throat no matter how hard you fought it. “Mr. Anthony a-and Ace. The cook. I-I think his name is Payton… I don’t know, we only ever called him Ace.”

“How do you know it was them?” she asked.

“Their voices. I work with Ace almost every day, and see Mr. Anthony at least three times a week, I could recognize them anywhere.”

“Did you hear anyone else?”

“No.”

“And what were they doing?”

“Arguing,” you said. “I knew I walked in something I shouldn’t see so I tried to be quick. I wasn’t looking and then I-I heard the gun go off.”

“What were they arguing about?” she asked.

“I don’t know. It wasn’t my business.” You couldn’t keep the anger out of your tone at that. It wasn’t your business, so why were you involved? It wasn’t fair, and there was nothing you could do. Tell the police the truth and face the wrath of a famously sadistic criminal. Lie to the police and risk legal persecution. And that wasn’t even mentioning the fact that you were out of a job.

“You don’t remember anything they said?” the officer asked. The doubt in her tone made your stomach twist. Hector’s demands were clear. You either convinced the police of the fake story, pinning all of the blame on Ace, or else. Given his employer, you could only guess what ‘or else’ would mean. Your chest seized, your breathing becoming faster.

“I don’t know,” you said, your voice trembling. “Ace has always been… He’s not a very nice guy, and he’s been acting strange lately. I knew he kept a gun on him. You know, for safety. We stay open pretty late. I knew that, but I never thought he’d actually… I mean, who does that sort of thing? Who could possibly…”

The officer nodded consolingly. Did that mean she believed you? “You’re okay, hon. We’re almost done. After the gun went off, what did you do?”

“I hid,” you told her. That’s what you should have done. You could almost imagine the scene in your head. The two of them arguing, the gunshot, ducking beneath the counter to hide with sweat soaking your clothes and terror squeezing your heart. “I heard him going through Mr. Anthony’s office, and then he came into the kitchen to leave through the back.”

“He didn’t see you?”

“No, I was hiding under the counter and it was… it was dark.”

“When he left, did you get a good look at him?”

“No, it was dark,” you repeated. “But when he opened the door, there was enough light from outside that I could see his coat. It’s really big, kinda tan. He’s the only guy I know who wears something like that.” Pressed against your thighs, your hands trembled violently. “Mr. Anthony was always nice to me,” you said. You didn’t mean to, it just bubbled out. “His wife left him recently, I think they’ve got kids too.”

She nodded again, giving you a sympathetic look. “Okay, honey. You’re okay. Is there anything else you can think of?” You shook your head, wiping your face with the tissues she’d pushed towards you. “I’ll give you my personal phone number, just in case you remember something.”

You accepted her card with the work phone number and hastily scribbled personal number. “Thank you,” you said with a pathetic sniffle, disgust for your lies and terror twisting your insides, fear that they would figure out the lie striking hotter than guilt. Just like that, with one conversation, you ensured that one man’s murderer would go free and another man’s life was ruined.

VIII.

Everything was wet. Negotiating an armful of groceries alongside an umbrella had been impossible, so you entered your apartment dripping and miserable and scared. Even going to the store for an hour or so had your anxiety spiking, you spent the entire time looking behind yourself, terrified that you would be arrested or attacked at any minute.

Feet squelching with every step, you set the bags on the kitchen counter. Just the essentials. And a bottle of vodka. Nasty stuff, but effective. With any hope, enough of it would force you to pass out. After being awake for nearly two days without sleep, you would have thought your body would simply give out, but your brain wouldn’t let you. You ignored the rest of the groceries and opened up the bottle, uncaring of the puddle forming beneath your feet, and took a swig. Foul, but it lit a somewhat pleasant fire in your belly. You took another drink. It sloshed into your stomach like poison and dizzied your head. Drinking on an empty stomach was never a good idea, but you ran out of good ideas years ago.

You didn’t notice anything amiss. Your guard was well and truly down as you stumbled into your room, shucking the boots and tossing your soaked clothes into the hamper. It would have been better to shower the filthy scent of Gotham rain out of your hair, but instead you just covered your wet skin with a pair of pajamas and called it good, ready to self medicate.

No, you didn’t notice anything amiss. Every sound was covered by the groan of the ancient radiator and broken down refrigerator, by the cars outside and voices down the hall. You didn’t even feel the discomfort you occasionally had that someone had been in your apartment.

Somebody grabbed you from behind.

It happened just like that, no time to think or to process or to understand what was happening.

“Considering the trouble you’re in, you really oughta lock your door,” he said, his voice slightly muffled. The piercing scream that left your mouth was covered by a hand. Big hand. Big man. Muscular arms crushed you against a solid, armored chest, one on your face and the other easily pinning your arms. It didn’t matter that you thrashed and screamed, he didn’t so much as budge. When you tried to bash your head against his face, the back of your skull made contact with a hard mask. “Don’t get so worked up, okay? I’m not here to hurt you.”

His words didn’t register, his voice like distant thunder in your head. Alarm bells screeched in your mind attacking the sore spot where your skull had met his mask, and the only thing you could do was struggle with all your strength, staring ahead at the comfortable familiarity of your living room and thinking that you didn’t want to die.

“C’mon, calm down a little, will you?” he said, seemingly put out with your antics. Ignoring him, you only redoubled your efforts. He let out a grunt when you kicked him, although it seemed more surprised than pained, his arms tightening around you to the point of suffocation. “Look, I didn’t want to scare you, but I can’t have you waking up the whole building.”

You couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe. There was something very hard pressing into your thigh and you didn’t think it was because he was happy to see you. Some part of your brain, the part that attempted rationality, recognized that you weren’t going to physically escape. Liquor and bile sat heavy on the back of your tongue, you worried you would choke on it.

“There you go,” your attacker said warmly as your energy drained and you stilled, his grip loosening somewhat now that you weren’t struggling like a wild animal. “Now I’m gonna let you go, and you’re not gonna do anything stupid.”

Breathing hard through your nostrils, you grunted in assent.

“‘Cause if you try anything,” he warned, “I’ll be very upset.”

Another grunt. Now that panic wasn’t so blindingly overpowering, you were aware of what this situation was. The danger you were in. His arms tightened for a moment, although not in an aggressive way. It felt more like a fleeting embrace.

When he released you, you didn’t scream, twisting away and putting as many stumbling steps between the two of you as possible. “I didn’t tell anybody,” you told him before even thinking about the words. “I wouldn’t, I-”

Recognition panged in your head like a bell as soon as you got a decent look at your attacker. For a moment, your brain scrambled, words failing you as you tried to process what you were looking at. Well, who you were looking at. The symbol on his chest was painted in red, but it was shaped like the bat symbol. The hero of Gotham. But he had guns, he couldn’t be. Besides, Batman—Bruce Wayne—was dead.

“You’re…” you said, trailing off in a confused loop of thought. You didn’t really understand what was happening, it was like reality had caused your system to crash. “You’re not Batman.”

“What gave it away?” he asked, his muffled voice sarcastic. You had no answer to that, just the angry pulse of adrenaline and terror and confusion. “It’s good to see you,” he said after a moment, taking a step towards you. “Up close, I mean.”

“What? Who are you?” Once you could look past the red bat symbol on his chest, he was dressed casually. Tactically, you supposed, with some light body armor and weaponry, but with a red hooded jacket and equally red mask that covered his whole face.

“You don’t remember me?” he asked. “And I thought we hit it off so well.”

“I think you’ve got the wrong person,” you told him. Despite your terrible memory, you would definitely remember meeting some masked criminal dressed like a dead icon.

“Nope, you’re exactly who I wanted to see,” he said. “Now why don’t you take a seat. You look like you’re about to pass out, and I’d like to talk.”

Mind whirling with panic and uncertainty, you considered your options. It was difficult. Drinking hadn’t been a good decision, the liquor drifted like fog in your head, confusing your ability to process everything.

“You need to leave,” you finally said, the tremble in your voice giving away your nerves. “Right now, you need to-”

“Come on,” he said, cutting you off. “You know how this goes, so let’s skip the part where you antagonize the guy with a gun.”

The urge to argue further occurred to you, but the words weren’t there. You had to be reasonable about this. If you cooperated, maybe you could find an advantage. Or talk your way out. If he had been here solely to assault you, why would he have let you go? The weight of his body against your own, the strength with which he held you, lingered like phantom pains. It would have been easy for him to force you down, to hurt you. To kill you. So easy.

You sat woodenly on your couch, eying the man warily as he crossed the room into your tiny little kitchen. Well, a counter, stove, and refrigerator shoved into the corner of the main room of your small apartment.

“Smirnoff, really?” he asked, picking up the bottle and inspecting it. Although you couldn’t see his face, you could hear the playful disgust in his voice. You didn’t say anything, watching him open your fridge and emerge with a bottle of water. He tossed it over. You barely managed to snatch it from the air before it fell onto the floor. “Try and sober up a little.”

While you didn’t really want to follow his instructions, you had also become aware of an awful case of dry mouth. He leaned against the counter while you took a few small sips. Although you couldn’t see his eyes, you got the distinct impression he was staring at you. The world hadn’t fallen silent, but it was all muffled. Far away. Your neighbors talked loudly, your old appliances droned, and cars passed outside, but none of it mattered. You may as well have been in a different world.

“You were so talkative last time,” he said as the silence dragged on. “I’m starting to think you’re not happy to see me.”

“I have no idea who you are,” you told him.

“Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t,” he allowed. “I’ll show you. But it’ll have to be our little secret, okay?”

You didn’t expect him to remove the mask, let alone do so in a nonchalant way. The mask made a distinct mechanical sound as he removed it, setting the piece aside and tossing his hood back. And that face was familiar. Mostly, you just remembered that scar, a crude J engraved on his cheek. You blinked, confusion making you doubt what you were seeing. It didn’t make any sense that the mysterious customer from weeks ago could be standing in your apartment.

“The pie was delicious, by the way,” he said casually, running his fingers through his hair to keep it pushed back. “I can see why it’s your favorite.”

That’s right. You thought you were being so cute for doing that, like you were some sort of philanthropist. It was borderline incomprehensible trying to merge your memory of that single interaction with what was happening now. The customer you awkwardly flirted with was an armored, armed man with the symbol of a dead hero on his chest. You had been genuinely upset that he never came back after that night, thought about him for at least a week after, but this wasn’t what you had in mind for a second meeting.

“It’s you,” you muttered softly, too shocked to be defensive.

“Surprised? It’s been awhile, I know. I’ve been busy.”

“Why are you here?”

“Why do you think?” he asked derisively. When you didn’t respond, he lightened up a bit. “Look, I’ve shown you mine, so why don’t you show me yours? Tell me who killed Frank Anthony.”

You regretted drinking, that question alone making you think you were about to be violently ill. “You’re with the police, aren’t you.”

“Do I look like a cop?” he asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow. No, he didn’t. Hector warned you about this sort of thing. The Bat, he said, might have been dead, but there were always those willing to do the same sort of work. If you squealed, you were worse than dead.

“I already told the police what happened,” you said, your stomach tying itself in increasingly painful knots.

“Yeah, you gave them quite the story.”

“No.” You shook your head. “It’s the tru-”

“Don’t,” he said loudly, aggressively cutting you off, “lie to me.” The rapid shift in tone had you flinching away, your water bottle dropping hard to the floor as you got to your feet to put more distance between the two of you. He had a look in his blue eyes that made you think he wasn’t entirely sane, and it chased away any hope that you could talk your way out of this.

“I want you to leave,” you told him, your fists clenched and shoulders tight, fueled by fear. Fear, and anger. Helpless rage at how awful this situation was, how unfair.

“What are you going to do if I don’t?” he asked, eying you up with a decidedly unimpressed expression, that flare of temper gone. “Fight me? Call for help?”

You didn’t say anything, realizing with a fresh wave of impotent indignation how helpless you were.

“Guess you’re stuck with me then,” he said, playful again, pushing away from the counter to sit on the other side of the couch. You watched him make himself comfortable, arms spread across the seatback and legs relaxed. Even like this, standing above him, you felt weak. He gave you a look. “What? C’mon, sit down.” You didn’t, even though standing there was beginning to feel horribly uncomfortable. “Are you seriously…? You’re not going to make this easy, are you.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” you said, putting as much venom in your voice as possible.

He smiled. “I never said I was disappointed. But if you really wanna seem tough, you should relax a little.”

You set your jaw, folding your arms.

“Fine, I’ll start,” he said, maintaining that disturbingly casual voice. “I didn’t give you my name last time. I’m Jason. Might wanna remember that for later.”

“Jason… Have you got a last name too?” you asked, not thinking so much about what you were saying as you were on portraying the only form of strength you had.

Jason shot you a sideways look. “Why?”

“You know, for the police report.” It had been a stupid thing to say in the first place, you knew that, but it didn’t get the reaction you wanted either. Jason just smiled, amused with your attempted wit.

“While you’re in there, are you gonna tell them what a bad girl you’ve been?”

It took you a moment, your thoughts catching on his uncomfortable wording, but then it clicked. “Do they know something?” you asked faintly, your head spinning with sickening anxiety.

“‘Course not,” Jason said. “Why do you think we’re talking here and not at the station? I figured it was better this way. You did something stupid, but you can still make it right. I’m happy to help. All you have to do is tell me what I want to know.”

“Help me?” you asked incredulously. “You break into my home and threaten me and you think you can-”

“I haven’t threatened you,” he said loudly, stopping you. “Yet.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you told him, forcing bravado to cover for your terror. There was no way out of this. Between a rock and a hard place, anything you did would be the wrong decision and it wasn’t fair. That bubbled out, your helpless anger coming through in a sharp tone. “I can’t tell you what I don’t know.”

“I was hoping we could avoid this, but…” Jason scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You can’t say I didn’t try to be nice. You’ve never been one to go for the nice guys though, have you.” Before you could respond, he stood up and grabbed you by the front of your shirt, pulling you off balance and up. Jason kept you suspended as you squirmed, although you stopped struggling pretty quick when he drew his gun and pressed it to your neck. It wasn’t like Ace’s gun, which may as well have been a toy in comparison to the weapon Jason held at your throat. The barrel was blocky and huge, you weren’t even sure it could reasonably be counted as a handgun.

“Okay, princess, from the top. Tell me who your boss was working for.”

Survival instinct dictated you cooperate, but the stubborn need for defiance kept you from speaking. The selfsame urge that got you in trouble, that made you want to have the last word when you argued and destroyed your life as you continuously made bad choices. This was the second time you had guns drawn on you, and for what? So you just looked at him, met those pretty blue eyes with the worst type of resolve. The petty kind.

“I don’t know.”

Jason jerked you up higher, the fabric of your shirt straining painfully against your skin. “Try again,” he told you, his voice low and dangerous.

“Even if I tell you, it won’t matter,” you said, your voice jumping an octave in fear. “You’re wasting your time.”

Jason considered that for a long moment before nodding, his expression softening and grip loosening. “You’re right, this is a waste of time,” he agreed. You hoped, for a second, that he was going to put you down. Instead, he hauled you up higher, your toes barely finding purchase on the floor until you hit the wall with a heavy exhale. It was nothing for him to keep you pinned against there, a muscular thigh pressed between your legs. The straps keeping his gun holster in place dragged roughly against the yielding fabric of your pajama shorts, adding a layer of friction that made you shudder, flinching back but unable to go anywhere. The barrel of his gun nudged beneath the hem of your shirt, seeking the warm skin beneath.

“Stop,” you demanded, but your voice was without bite, without air. Jason hardly budged when you weakly pushed against him. “You have to let me go right now or-”

“Sweetheart, babe, princess,” Jason cooed, cutting you off. Agonizingly slow, the gun’s cold muzzle continued to drag up over your abdomen, over your stomach. Chills chased behind the weapon’s metal kiss, your entire body so tense you trembled. “Look at yourself. Do you really think you’ve got any say in what I can or can’t do?”

“What are you going to do then?” you asked, terrified to look up and meet his eyes and terrified to look away. Terrified of the gun skimming your ribs and terrified of your body’s conflicted reaction because the horror of the threat only registered so much in comparison to his proximity, the twisted sensuality of it all.

“I’m not sure yet,” Jason said. “But I’m telling you right now that there are only two things I wanna hear from you. You can give me what I want, the truth this time, or…”

You didn’t want to ask, but you knew he was waiting for it, waiting for you to take the bait. “Or?” you finally breathed. The gun was pressed cold and hard right beneath the band of your bra, a stark contrast to the heat of his body right against yours.

“My name,” he said. “In my line of work, we don’t usually use ‘em. But I kinda like the idea of you screaming mine.” In isolation, the words might have come off as obnoxiously cocky, but Jason didn’t sound cocky. There was a needful insistence in his voice that undermined the obvious flirtation and that’s where this situation was going anyway, gun or no, he was just pushing it over the edge.

“Jason-”

“Yeah, like that. Maybe a little louder though.” The gun was gone, but you didn’t have time to respond to the lack of threat. Jason’s gloved hand was rough on your chin, pulling your face up towards his. You pushed against him, but it was a weak struggle. Ineffective.

Jason kissed you and it was violent, biting teeth and his tongue pushing past your wet lips. He kissed you like he was trying to prove something, like he was hungry. It had been awhile since you kissed anyone, but you fell into place pretty easily. Besides, it wasn’t the type of kiss that was returned so much as it was the type that you submitted to. His mouth tasted like mint and you wondered if that was on purpose, if he had prepared for this.

You were still reeling by the time he pulled away, catching your bottom lip between his teeth before releasing it, the final touch of pain making you shiver despite yourself.

“That stuff is seriously disgusting, I have no idea how you stomach it,” he said, a smile in his voice that didn’t match the tone of the situation. “You don’t really care about quality though, do you?” His breathing was harsh and the non-question was ironic. You didn’t respond, too stunned. Hoping, maybe, that if you didn’t engage, it would cease to be real. “Well?” Jason prompted. “Which is it?”

“Stop,” you said. Unable to meet his eye, unable to move. He wanted you. Your stomach twisted and you should have been fighting like your life depended on it. But something about it all was just incomprehensible, you couldn’t parse why this was happening. That this was happening to you.

“That’s not what I asked, but that’s fine,” he said casually. “Take your time, I’ll just-”

Jason gripped you by the hips and turned the both of you around so he could lift you onto the counter. Things toppled the ground, papers and random junk you’d accumulated crashing down. The ease with which he manhandled you was vertigo inducing, making you yelp, limbs flailing in an attempt to get your balance.

He didn’t give you a chance to protest, pulling your shirt up and over your head and arms. Your bra was discarded with the same fervor. Jason didn’t take the time to look at you, his mouth seeking skin. Your neck, your collar bones, your breasts, he hungrily left wet kisses and searing bites down your skin, stopping only when he reached your nipples. Overly sensitive with stress and fear, your body tensed as if electrified, a high pitched sound leaving your mouth in surprise. His tongue was hot, but the scrape of teeth was really what had you squirming, gasping, unable to think. Your thighs clenched hard, attempting to close but obstructed by his hips.

“No, n-no,” you told him, panicked and pulling at his hair because this was too far. The line had been crossed already, you knew it was ridiculous to object now when the whole situation had spiraled so far out of your control, but you had to do something. Jason just groaned, pulling back to look at you.

“What did I say?” he asked.

You shook your head, caught between the strangest sense of embarrassment to have someone looking at you and cold dread at where this was heading. “You can’t-”

“I gave you two options. Otherwise, I don’t wanna hear it.” To make his point, he cruelly pinched your nipple, the one he’d left wet and sensitive. All you could do was groan as he leaned down to do the same to the other, knowing that you weren’t putting up enough of a fight and hating yourself for it.

There was no escapism to the confusing, vile stirrings of lust. You were painfully aware of yourself and what was happening, your legs kicking out and body writhing unconsciously at the pleasurable sensations. You wished you weren’t cognizant of what was happening, you wished you had some excuse, some reason to submit to this that wasn’t plain weakness, some messed up acceptance of what he was doing. But then he bit down, rolling your nipple between his teeth, and it hurt and you moaned loud, unable to contain the way your hips ground against him and you knew that even if you weren’t reciprocating, you were still complicit.

Jason pulled away from your nipple with a slick, dirty sound. His hand pushed between your thighs, forcing them to spread further so he could rub his hand over the pajama shorts you still wore. You squealed, the pressure of his palm grinding right between your legs bringing some form of sense back into your head. And you didn’t mean to hit him, not really. But you did, your palm meeting his cheek. The sharp sound made you flinch, your breath catching in surprise. Jason looked a little surprised too, leaning back to look at you.

“Seriously?” he asked.

“I-I’m so-”

“I warned you about antagonizing the guy with a gun.”

“No, I-I’m not-”

“I swear, it’s like you’re incapable of self preservation,” Jason said, unholstering his gun again and pressing it to your cheek.

“Stop,” you told him, but your bravado was anemic at best. Breathless, and not just just because of the gun, although you were horribly aware of the metallic scent and its coldness biting into your skin. Fear wasn’t the only thing making it difficult to think.

“Is that really what you want?” he asked, his eyes alight with humor and knowing. “Cause, I’ve gotta be honest, that’s not what it looks like. Maybe this is what you wanted all along, creeping through those back streets in the middle of the night. No wonder you weren’t scared.”

“That’s not true,” you told him.

“Oh yeah? Then tell me what I’ll find under these cute little shorts. I’ve got a feeling it’s not going to be disinterest.”

At this point, you weren’t sure you could even tell him he was wrong. Your nipples were stiff and your skin was covered with chills, you didn’t doubt that you were wet too. “I thought…” you said, scrambling for some change of subject, some distraction. “I thought you just wanted me to tell you-”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get what I want,” Jason assured you. “But there’s nothing wrong with a guy taking pleasure in his work.” He didn’t give you any more time to think or argue as he roughly pushed your shorts and panties down your hips to get them out of the way. It forced you to lean back, catching yourself on your hands so you could support your torso. Even if the gun was a hollow threat—and you thought it had to be considering his finger wasn’t on the trigger—it was effective. You whined in distress at the idea of him seeing you, seeing all of you.

“Don’t,” you muttered, a pathetic objection that did nothing to give him pause.

“Goddamn,” Jason muttered, his big hand flattening against your abdomen, dragging down. The material of his glove was rough against your skin, cool and inhuman.

“Don’t,” you whined again, trying to squeeze your thighs together, unable to meet his eyes. Not that he was looking at your face anyway.

“You know, I was fine just watching, making sure that you were okay,” Jason told you, almost earnestly. “The idea of you going out on your own in the middle of the night… the things people could do to you… I couldn’t stop thinking about it after I left. I had to make sure.”

“You’ve been… watching me?” you asked.

“And I was fine with it,” he emphasized, “but you had to go and misbehave.” He used his teeth to pull off the fingers of his glove so he could toss it aside. His skin was hot on yours when he pried your thighs apart further. When you struggled, he just pressed the muzzle of the gun even harder against you, dragged it down against your throat. By now, the metal was warm with your body heat.

“You’ve been watching me?” you asked again, your voice gaining a bit more strength.

“I’ve been protecting you,” Jason said, his voice lowering. “I hired someone to get you out of the city safely. When a couple of drunk idiots tried to follow you home, I’m the one who stopped them. And I admit, I was pretty pissed when I heard about what you did, but now… now I see the advantages.” He paused, his hand creeping up your thigh. He let out a surprised little laugh when his fingers pushed past your outer lips, skimming your entrance in a way that made your entire body lurch towards him, arms nearly giving out. “Damn, now who’s wet.”

“Jason,” you meant it to be an admonishment, but your voice raised an octave with surprise when his fingers grazed up over your clit. You tensed up, but it did nothing to stop his fingers from driving into you, to stop your inner walls from squeezing his fingers as if to pull them deeper in spite of the horror of what he was saying. It wasn’t difficult at all, you were embarrassingly wet for him and all he had to do was push you down with the muzzle of the gun to keep you from fighting.

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” he asked, curling his fingers. “Feels good to know that somebody cares about you so much.”

You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut in a half hearted attempt to block out his words, to ignore what was happening. It didn’t work. There was nowhere to go away from him, away from this.

“I know how alone you feel. I know what you want, what you need.” He punctuated that word with a harsh thrust. You couldn’t fathom what he was saying. It didn’t make sense, your brain was on fire. He slowly pulled his fingers out, curling them against your walls to make your mouth fall open wordlessly, a little mewl leaving you before you bit your lip.

He was insane. But you already knew that. He was also right. You already knew that too. You were fairly sure you were insane as well, what other reason could there be for the way your body was responding to him?

Swearing under his breath, Jason wrapped his arm around your waist to pull you against him, his fingers setting a fast pace, your body jolting with each heavy thrust. The fabric of his clothes was rough, a reminder of how helplessly exposed you were in comparison to him. His mouth dropped to your neck, kissing and licking the sensitive skin there before biting down hard enough to make you cry out, your body writhing against his. He was wearing some sort of body armor, it made it difficult to find purchase on his back as your hands grasped at him, searching for something to hold onto. Eventually, your fingers entangled in his hair. He groaned low, adding a third finger.

The far away rational part of your mind was aware enough to recognize how embarrassing the endless stream of high pitched moans and whines leaving your mouth were, but it was as automatic as the way your pussy squeezed his fingers, sucking them deeper, begging for more no matter how rough he was. Beyond your control, just like everything else.

“Jason…” His name was a plea, a prayer, breathless and needy and pathetic.

“A little louder, princess,” Jason responded.

You whined, pressing your lips together in an attempt to stifle yourself. He laughed, cool air puffing against your wet skin.

“It’s cute that you think I can’t make you.”

Jason pulled his fingers out and released you, swiveling you around on the counter so you could fall flat on your back. More things crashed to the floor, the bottle of vodka shattering loudly after it toppled. He kept you from fighting with the gun, pressing it beneath your chin so you had no choice but to lay flat. Spread beneath him with your legs wide open like a meal.

“Fuck, you really are…” Jason muttered under his breath, eying you hungrily. He didn’t finish the thought, licking his lips. “Goddamn.”

The gun was pushed so hard against you it was certain to leave indents in your skin, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to care when he leaned down and traced his tongue over your clit. The not-enough teasing sensation pulled an entire body shudder from you, your legs twitching and hips jumping against him, thighs straining as they tried to decide whether to close or open. Your hands scrambled indecisively, reaching out and holding onto the counter’s lip with a white knuckle grip and your back arching in a taut bow.

When he pushed three fingers into you, curling and scissoring them, it was all you could do not to shout. Jason was relentless, not caring to try and build you back up slowly. Your body was all too accepting, the rough pace he’d set was pushing you over the edge fast. You whimpered when his tongue, wet and velvety, licked from the place his fingers thrust into you all the way up, and that became a long, reedy cry when his lips closed and he sucked.

Pleasure coiled so hot in your core, stoked to a terrible blaze beneath his touch, and you could have wept at how badly you wanted to get off, straining for release mindlessly, helplessly.

“Jason, I can’t-” Too loud, you knew it was too loud but you also knew that was the only way you were going to get what you needed. And it was need. Dire, catastrophic. “Jason, please. Jason-”

Right there, right on the tipping edge of release, Jason pulled back. You whined unhappily, your hips desperately trying to chase his fingers. He held you in place, pressing the flat of the gun against your abdomen to push you down as he pulled his fingers out with a slick noise. “Sweetheart,” he said, “look at me.” You thought of refusing, but complied after a moment, humiliation dulled by need. Jason’s cheeks were pink, his lips flushed red. His expression sent a shuddery jolt of desire through you, intense and hungry and focused and far more composed than you were. “Tell me his name.”

His name. It took you a moment, given that you were of a fairly singular mind. But you figured it out eventually. Panting, flushed, drenched red with lust, you shook your head.

“No, no, no, listen,” he scolded, grabbing your chin with fingers that smelled like you, that were wet because of you. In a way, the touch was more threatening than the gun. Jason’s eyes were bright, a complete contrast to the way yours felt fogged over. “Tell me, and I’ll bring you his head. That’s a promise.”

His tone should have been frightening. Maybe, in a way, it was. All steel and fire and raw honesty, you didn’t doubt that he would make good on that threat. But you weren’t afraid. You had enough will power to refuse again, you knew how easy it would be to close your eyes and turn away from him. Gun and teasing and desire and fear and all, you’d endured worse for less. But to what end? For what purpose? You were already ruined, already as good as dead.

In the worst part of yourself, you felt if you didn’t reciprocate, if you didn’t give back when he’d done something for you, that would be rude.

“He’s the one who thinks he’s a-a god. Maxie Zeus or whatever,” you said, your voice hoarse. “His guy, Hector, that’s who… Christ…” You pulled against his wrist and shook your head, trying to banish the memory. “Mr. Anthony was bringing in goods for him, but I don’t know what happened, or why he… I don’t know.”

Jason stood up. “Seriously? That freak?” he asked, an incredulous laugh in his voice. “I didn’t realize he was still kicking around... What are you doing?”

He pushed you back down to keep you from squirming away like you were attempting. “I told you,” you said, your voice faint, “so we’re…”

“We’re what? Even? Not even close.”

“But I… Let me go.” You pushed at him, tried to close your legs, although you knew your heart wasn’t in it.

“Nuh-uh, princess. You’re not getting out of this that easy.”

“But I told you!”

“Yeah, after lying about it right to my face. Did you think you were gonna get away with that?” He paused, giving you another once-over. “Besides, I can’t leave a job half done. It’s not in my nature.”

You didn’t have to ask what he meant by that, Jason pushed his fingers back into you and you had to bite off your groan, your body spasming at the touch. He wasn’t hurried at first, watching you toss your head back in frustration, resisting the urge to grind against his hand as you made a half hearted attempt to come up with the words for why you couldn’t do this, why he needed to stop.

Nothing came out, ultimately. You were too afraid that he’d listen if you told him to stop, it was better to say nothing, to cling to the pleasure as a lifeline of insanity.

“You’re real cute like this,” Jason praised you with an indulgent mixture of sarcasm and affection. You weren’t aware of the gun being gone until you realized his other hand was free to nudge against your clit. Playfully, at first. Then with more focus, rubbing against it with hard, maddening little circles. You whimpered, then whined, your cunt squeezing his fingers as they tortured your inner walls. The pace he’d set was speeding up in time with the rising swell of heat, that coil of tension within you approaching a feverish pitch. “Reminds me of one of the first things you said to me. What was it?” He paused as if to think, jolting your body with a harder thrust that you could hear. “Oh yeah, I remember,” Jason continued, paying no mind to your sharp cry. “You’re dripping everywhere.”

A despairing sort of groan came from your throat at that, but his tone sunk deep into your core and the pleasure of each wet, slick thrust was growing intolerably good, pushing you right back to the brink. Jason spoke like this was supposed to be some sort of punishment, but the way he fucked his fingers into you, the way he rubbed your clit, was anything but.

It didn’t take much from there. The hyper aroused state of awareness made your comprehension of how utterly debased it all was that much hotter, lust redefining the grotesque as helplessly attractive. You were getting close, your body straining for release desperately, your hips meeting each thrust, grinding against his fingers.

“Don’t stop,” you begged. “Please, don’t…”

“Are you gonna be good and ask me nicely?”

“Please, Jason… God, please.”

“Sure, why not,” he said. In contrast to the lackadaisical tone, his fingers curled, seeking out that spongy spot inside of you that made your legs twitch and kick, an unnaturally high mewl accomining the reaction. A few more torturous passes just like that was all it took to well and truly send you tumbling, your muscles tightening and pussy tightening, gushing around his hand as you came. Afraid he would pull away before you were finished, you grabbed his hand, keeping him against your clit as your hips ground down on his fingers. Jason let it happen, indulging you until the pleasure had run its course of heat and mindless frenzy.

Then you sagged, letting him go and staring up at the ceiling with glassy eyes, hot and breathing hard. He pulled his fingers out, another uncomfortably wet sound. There was a joke to be made in the fact that the first guy who made you come was the one who did it with a gun at your throat, but you couldn’t find the words. It wasn’t all that funny in the first place.

The sound of something unclicking pulled your eyes down to Jason. He wasn’t paying any attention to you, working on his clothes. It was completely unfair that while you were all the way bared to his eyes, he was still dressed. Not even dressed—armed.

“Worst part about this job is the outfits,” Jason muttered, clearly annoyed as he unclipped the holsters around his thighs so he could put the weapons on the counter. The hoodie went next, but there was still something bulky beneath his shirt, probably the armor you’d felt earlier.

“Least you brought protection,” you muttered.

Jason grinned, looking up at you with bright, excited eyes. “And you say you’re not funny.” The last to go was his belt and its assortment of ammo, set aside with the guns. “That’ll have to be good enough… Sorry, babe, show and tell’ll have to wait ‘til next time.”

That playful comment went right over your head as he unbuttoned his pants and pulled out his cock. He ran a hand down its length, eyes devouring your body. It was disappointing that you wouldn’t get to see all of him, but it was difficult to focus on that considering what he was showing you anyway.

“What do you want me to do?” you asked softly, frozen between the embarrassment and the shameless way your pussy squeezed down around nothing, given a pretty good idea of how deep inside of you he would go from the way he was positioned between your legs. The circumstances, the disaster, that had gotten you here didn’t matter. Jason was hard for you, looking at you with dangerously dark eyes.

“Hold on tight,” Jason said, giving no further warning as he scooped you up off the table and turned around, pushing you against the wall again. You yelped in surprise, doing exactly as you were told with your arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders, legs clamping around his waist. There was no gun pointed at your head, but the easy way he hauled you into place made it moot anyway. Jason would have just as easy of a time snapping your neck as he would pulling the trigger, the gun was just for show.

“I have a bed,” you pointed out, a bit of anxiety trickling through everything else you felt because having sex was one thing, but being fucked upright against a wall, helplessly clinging to his shoulders, was filthy. And that was before you realized that you could hear the sound of your neighbors TV vibrating in the wall at your back, a muffled laugh track mingling with the ringing in your ears. “This is… it’s a shared wall.”

“And?” Jason asked, keeping you in place as he lined himself up. The sensation of his cock pressing against your fluttering entrance was almost enough to make you give up. Almost.

“They’ll… they’ll hear, we can’t-”

“Not my problem,” he told you. Any further argument was driven from your mind as he pushed into you, your mouth dropping open dumbly, mind cleared out entirely by the weight and pressure as you sunk all the way down onto him. Jason groaned against your neck, grinding his hips against you so you could feel how deep he went, how full you were. Your inner walls fluttered around him, desperately trying to adjust to the delicious weight. Madly, you thought that if you could stay just like that forever, you would be glad for it. And then he pulled out, a little slow at first, making sure you could feel the drag and absence, before filling you all over again. You couldn’t hold back your cry, your body no longer belonged to you. And he did it again, it had to be on purpose.

“Loud,” you whined, not sounding nearly as distressed as you probably should have. “Too loud, Jason...”

He laughed breathlessly. “They’d better get used to it,” he said right into your ear. God, you couldn’t handle it. The way he said that, the way he accentuated the threat with a hard thrust, just made you whine, holding onto him even harder.

“Jason-” His name slipped from your mouth without thinking, high and pathetic, the only thing you could think. A plea for mercy, for more, for him.

“I know,” he told you, managing to sound cocky despite the breathless lust in his voice, his smile pressed against your neck before his teeth dug into the flesh there. His fingers kneaded your ass, grinding you onto his cock. Exhaustion, terror, alcohol, desire—all of it had been the perfect battering ram to get you here, your defenses shredded, your senses spirited away by mindless need.

All you could do was hold on. Moan for him, beg for him. Each hard thrust pushed you up the wall, your back scraping against the textured paint. It might have hurt, were you not too distracted with the feeling of Jason inside of you, the head of his cock dragging against where you were most sensitive, going so deep you saw stars. You wished desperately that he were undressed so you could feel his skin against yours, but the material of his shirt rubbing against your sensitive nipples wasn’t so bad either, another point of friction.

At the fever pitch point of abandon, it didn’t really matter that you were trying to muffle yourself, to choke down your cries and whimpers. The physical sound, the hard, rhythmic thump-thump-thump as he fucked you against the wall, the wet squish of each thrust, was suggestive even without you moaning like a whore over the top of it. And, fuck, it was hot.

“You wanna come again, princess?” Jason asked. It was spoken like a question, but he didn’t wait for your response for his hand to sneak between your legs, easily finding your swollen clit. You yelped unintentionally, eyes snapping open. You definitely couldn’t handle that either. Being fucked like this bordered on overstimulation, to feel pleasure there too would break you.

“Mmm, Jason…” you sounded breathless and cheap, shaking your head in an attempt to convey your burst of panic at the feeling and the drowning helplessness. There was nothing you could do to stop him, to stop yourself, regardless of what you wanted. “I can’t-”

“Yeah, you do.”

Even if the excess stimulation had you whining and gasping and writhing like a creature possessed, you did, you wanted to come on his cock, to feel the way your cunt clamp down around him like a vice as you shook to pieces.

He didn’t have to encourage you to say his name, it fell out between your helpless moans, your harsh breathing. Jason dropped wet kisses on your neck, your jaw, kissing your open mouth and biting your bottom lip until you pulled on his hair, encouraging you with all sorts of noises. None of your other partners had been vocal like this, letting you how much you affected them, how much they desired you. It was intoxicating in a way no liquor or drug ever had been, and far more addictive.

Someone hit the wall behind you, a few harsh knocks of disapproval and some choice, if muffled, words. Jason laughed breathlessly, the air hot on your neck. “Whoops,” he said.

As humiliating as the interruption was, it came too late. Jason didn’t so much as pause and your body was already shuddering apart, tipped over the edge by the sound of his amusement. At the very least, coming rendered you silent, nothing more than little gasping groans leaving your open mouth as you clung to him, your cunt spasming around his cock. That seemed to be amusing to him too, his grinding relentlessly against your clit in time with each hard thrust.

“Unbelievable,” he said as you came down from the high, far too pleased with himself. The TV on the other side of the wall was far louder now, you could hear the individual voices attempting to drown out your own.

“Jason, ss-stop” you begged, shaking your head, the words tight with your attempt to keep them quiet.

“I’m not the one on my way to waking up half of Gotham.”

You whined in distress, pushing at him.

“Alright, alright,” he relented, pulling out and letting you fall to your feet.

Before your weak legs had the chance to give out beneath you, Jason whirled you both around to bend you over the back of your couch. And then he was inside of you again, driving home in one hard thrust, and you let out a shameless moan, not even thinking to stifle it. Jason moaned low, the blunt fingernails of one hand digging into one hip and the harsh fabric of his glove scraping against the other.

The different angle had you seeing stars. Jason was able to be even more rough like this too, holding onto your hips to drag you down to meet each violent thrust. You clawed at your couch, your back arching in a borderline painful bow as you rocked back and forth onto your toes. This was worse. He rutted into you like an animal and you responded in kind, making noises you hadn’t thought yourself capable of as his cock tortured your cunt, fucking you so hard it hurt as much as it felt mind blowingly good. Ultimately, there was no difference.

“Jason…Jason-”

“Again?” he asked. “You really are a princess.” His hand dropped between your legs and you wailed, trembling and mewling and absolutely beyond the capacity to take more. It was almost impressive how quickly overstimulation played on your nerves as he rubbed your clit, bypassing pleasurable sensation to be interpreted as nothing more than raw electrical impulses telling your brain how to react.

He wanted you to come, so you did. He wanted you to scream his name, so you did. Your pussy clamped down around him as you tensed up so hard your entire body trembled with strain, accepting the torture of exess because the only thing worse than coming would be to not. You weren’t given any chance to come down either, Jason using your involuntary response to chase his own pleasure. Nothing existed except the slapping of skin and the filthy squelching and the wicked harmony of harsh breathing and moans. He said your name once, twice, a reverence in it that you’d never heard. You arched your back, begging to take him deeper, to be used for his pleasure. His hips stuttered, his grip on your waist bruising.

Jason pulled out at the last second with a helpless sound, the head of his cock bumping against your ass as he finished himself off. Thick, hot ropes of cum hit your back, his breathing harsh and erratic and half voice. Then he stilled, his fingers tracing down your side gently as he released you.

You wilted against the back of the couch, acutely aware of the aching emptiness inside of you. Not just your pussy, but all the way in your core. The neighbor’s TV was still on at full blast, but your apartment was a haven of nothing more than heavy breathing and the scent of filthy, depraved sex. You expected Jason to step away, to fix his clothes and leave you exposed, locked in a pillory of exhaustion and shame until you could force your body to move again.

“Can you stand up?” Jason asked instead.

You thought about it for a second before deciding that you probably could. The motion was mechanical, awkward. His cum was cooling on your back, mingling with the sweat and making filthy trails as it dripped down. But you managed, standing and turning around. When you stumbled, legs trembling, a pair of strong arms caught you. Jason pulled you against him. Gently, at first, pushing your head down against his chest while he wrapped his arms around you. Even with the layers between your ear and his skin, you thought you could hear the strong thumping of his heart.

“Do you need me to carry you to bed?” Jason asked, petting your sweaty hair. You couldn’t tell if he was teasing or not.

“Are you going to leave?” you asked, your voice distant. It seemed like an important question, but your brain was too foggy to really understand why.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Jason said. Despite his casual tone, you didn’t miss the way his arms tightened around you, holding you even closer. “It’s more fun when those scumbags have time to get comfortable.”

You hummed in agreement. The wind howled outside your window, the wind and the rain. But it did not reach you, found no place in your empty head.

“I’m tired,” you mumbled.

“No kidding,” Jason said. Then he sighed, stepping back and releasing you. Only for a moment, only long enough to crouch down and sweep you up into his arms. That jolted you awake fast, but even the surprise was fleeting. At this point, you were exhausted to the point of pain, wrung out completely and utterly. “You’re lucky you’re so cute,” he told you. “Otherwise I’d say you’re more trouble than you’re worth.”

“You too,” you said. And maybe you weren’t exactly as tired as you were telling yourself, maybe there was a very conscious part of you lurking in the back of your mind that understood how terrible and dangerous this situation was. But you muffled it, blinking drowsily as Jason carried you into your bedroom.

Jason chuckled. “You should be more careful, princess. Saying things like that-” He exhaled harshly, nuzzling your head gently. “I just might not wanna let you go.”

#batman arkham knight #arkhamverse #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd #red hood #dc #my writing #not sfw #tw.dubcon

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