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donutloverxo · 3 years

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Good little wife

Note - Inspired by a request I got long ago and written for the happy hoelidays challenge I'm cohosting with my sister hoes @navybrat817 and @stargazingfangirl18 . I used the prompts two idiots in love + Character A loves Christmas. Character B hates it. A melts Bs cold heart Dividers by @firefly-graphics .

Summary - Your husband makes up to you for being a Grinch and a meanie to you throughout your marriage.

Warnings - 18+ only, smut(m/f), dub con, older man/younger woman, arranged marrige, leaking nudes, daddy kink, blood play, virginity/innocence kink, loss of virginity, virgin reader, painful sex, misogyny, mob activities.

Pairing - Mob!Andy Barber x reader

Word count - 8k

“You look beautiful, cookie,” your mother raved, pressing her lips to your cheek, “He’s a lucky man.”

You only hummed. Staring at your refection, seeing someone you didn’t even recognize.

Your white lace dress somewhat conservative, still really pretty, something you would’ve been more than happy to wear if your circumstances weren’t so depressing.

You almost let out a sardonic laugh, you didn’t get to choose your husband but at least you chose your wedding gown.

“It’ll be alright,” your mother picked at your hair, noticing your evident sadness, you’ve never been one to hide how you feel anyway, “you’ll learn to love him. He’s very successful.”

“I always thought ‘money doesn’t make you happy',” something she had said to you so many times over the years.

“That’s just a fairy tale. People fall out of love, run out of things to talk about, men cheat, in the end all that’s left is how well he can provide for you,” she stated.

You checked your phone as soon as you could, going through your messages to see if your boyfriend, or rather your now ex boyfriend, had sent you anything. You still naively hoped that he'd come on a white horse and sweep you off and away, so you wouldn’t have to marry someone you’ve else. So you wouldn’t have to give up your freedom forever and just be someone’s wife.

But you saw nothing. He hadn’t talked to you, not since your father found out about you both. Since he was from a family your daddy hated with a passion, and you were supposed to as well, your father made you cut all times with him. Locked you in your room in a timeout till you came to your senses.

After over three weeks he came to you, telling you how he was ready to forgive you and move on. You were so happy. For a minute you let yourself believe that this was your father, he loved you unconditionally, of course he'd set aside whatever vain feud he has and let you be with your love.

All your hopes were crushed when he told you he had selected a husband for you whom you have to marry in just a month. That you had to drop out of college since you wouldn’t need that degree anyway.

You always did believe that he had your best interests at heart, you wanted to believe it this time as well, but you just couldn’t.

Cringing inwardly when he kissed your cheeks, “You look beautiful,” he told you, cold eyes staring at you, “Don’t try anything stupid. Andrew is a good man,” he looped your arm in with his.

“He’s more than a decade older than me,” you argued, biting your lip as he squeezed your arm to warn you.

You slapped a fake smile on your face, walking down, one step after another as everyone looked at you in awe.

This is supposed to be the happiest day of your life...

But when you looked at Andy waiting for you at the alter you felt nothing but grave anxiety which made your teeth clatter, his palms joined together at his front, he did look handsome with his tux and neat beard. You have had a crush on him for a long time but you’ve never even had a real conversation with him, you didn’t know him. No one did.

Your heart filled with dread as your father handed you over to Andy, patting him on his shoulder, “Take good care of her.”

“I will,” Andy smiled.

You weren’t really there, maybe your body was but your soul had left you to maybe make the whole ordeal less painful. The priest read the vows asking you if you were ready to take him as your husband forever.

“I do,” since you had no other choice.

“I do,” he repeated.

You felt a shiver jolt up your spine when his fingers grazed yours, putting the thin silver band on your finger before lifting your veil to press his lips to yours, giving you a chaste, barely there kiss as everyone cheered you on.

The rest of the evening was a blur, you could barely register what had happened, everyone sweetly calling you ‘Mrs Barber’ only making you more nervous.

Andy however, was cordial and formal as always, shaking their hands and thanking them.

Since you hadn’t really taken any dance lessons you were left to simply wing it with him at your first dance. With your clammy hands in his you tried to match his pace as he lead you, bumping into his feet with yours more than once.

He leaned in to whisper in your ear, “Relax,” making you shudder.

You looked up at him, he had barely said two words to you but your grandmother often said ‘Eyes are the windows to the soul’.

And Andy’s eyes were so... kind, like a blue ocean you could happily drown in. He almost looked at you as if he were fond of you.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad...

You didn’t really expect Andy to carry you over the threshold, that was just a silly little fantasy you’ve always had and you knew he’d never indulge you in it but he didn’t even hold the door open for you.

You looked around his condo, so grey and boring, looked like it was out of a magazine catalogue, you felt so out of place there.

Naturally, you followed him to his bedroom, watching him wake his coat off, followed by his cuffs as he rolled his sleeves up.

You went over what you wanted to say in your head, how do you tell your husband that you’re a virgin, on your wedding night--that was something your grandmother never gave you advice on. You could’ve used her wisdom then.

With your mouth suddenly dry you tried to speak as he poured himself a drink, “Um... I’ve...”

“What?” he looked at you, quirking a brown brow up.

“Nothing,” you shook your head as you took a seat on the edge of the bed. “This is a nice house.”

“You can take the guestroom,” he said bluntly.

“What?”

“You can take the guestroom. I’ve already put all your bags there, you can decorate it however you like but don’t touch anything else.”

“But I...I’ve never heard of husband and wife sleeping in different rooms.”

“That’s true, it is unusual. This is not a normal marriage though, is it?” His tone so frustratingly patronising, as if he was talking to a child.

You’ve never really been appreciated for your mind, women never are--not where you come from, even your love Alex only ever thought of you as a ‘pretty face’. But Andy didn’t need to spell it out for you, “You... don’t want me...” you realised.

He only scoffed. He’d never been one for long term relationships, he had tried but he could never give himself to another person, women often called him emotionally unavailable, his demanding and dangerous job did contribute a lot to that, but more than that it was his unwillingness to change. He was self aware enough to know that but he didn’t need anyone else. He didn’t want to be tied down or to have a nagging immature wife.

“But why...” you wondered. Sure, you weren’t thrilled to marry him, but now you had accepted it and wanted to make the best of your new life. You thought he wanted the same.

“Why would I want you?” he spat. “ You’re nothing but a spoilt rich girl who’s had everything handed to her. Who was ungrateful and stupid enough to fraternize with the enemy.”

You let out a shaky exhale, looking at him with teary eyes, “I loved him...”

“You don’t know the first thing about love,” he rolled his eyes.

“He loved me too! But I’m willing to put that behind me. I made a vow to you.”

“You really don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?” you frowned.

He took his phone out of his pocket, opening his gallery to show you the compromising pictures you had sent to your ex, “He shared that with everyone, it was all just a ploy to humiliate your father.”

You gasped, taking his phone in your trembling hand, your breasts exposed as you shyly looked at the camera. You had flat out refused to send him a nude when he asked for it but then he threatened to break up with you, to go after your best friend, even called you a prude because you hadn’t slept with him. At the moment you felt as if you had no choice but to do it...

“He wouldn’t,” you sobbed.

“And because of your stupidity I had to marry you since no one else would ever want you,” he said. But then regretted it as you just started crying harder. He thought of maybe trying to console you but what would he even say?

He took the phone from you before you could even think of deleting the photos. He used them to pleasure himself almost every night. Maybe he was an idiot, he could have the real thing, yet he was pushing you away, “Go to your room,” he told you which made you sob even moreso.

You looked up at him, begging him for a hug, for some sort of comfort or sympathy but his face was cold and harsh. Finally gathering your wits you went to the other room, ready to cry yourself to sleep.

No matter how beautiful you were, you were still thrusted upon him, you didn’t love him, you never could because you never even had a choice

“Perfect,” you beamed, setting down the chicken pot pie you had just cooked up.

Your grandmama had always told you that a wife should be a cook in the kitchen and a whore in the bedroom. So that her man would never stray.

And while you hadn’t had a chance to be a whore for Andy... something that you were looking forward to, you hoped the fresh home cooked meal, the holiday season and decorations you had spent the past few days working on would put him in the mood. To maybe accept you as his wife.

For the past six months you had tried everything, making him breakfast, packing his lunch, offering him massages, even trying to help him with his work but he was always so cold to you.

You feared that this is how it will be forever. He would never love you, not the way you’ve always loved him. Even when he was so cruel towards you.

But you were nothing if not resilient. So you said chuck it and went all out. Decorating your whole house, with a real tree for the past few days while Andy was out on a work trip for thanksgiving. Maybe you could surprise him and he’d realise just how much he lucked out with you.

You even went with a more risqué outfit than you usually would. Your little emerald green skirt with pleats was a bit too short and impractical for the cold winters but you were going to stay inside anyway. It was topped off with a tight burgundy blouse and a push up bra which made your girls look enticing and some red pumps.

With a pumpkin pie for dessert in the oven, your salads done and the gingerbread flavored candles lit up you were good to go.

So you sat on the couch, watching 'A Christmas story' for the hundredth time to kill time till he gets home and to distract your nervous mind.

After ninety minutes the movie was over but Andy still wasn’t home. You tried calling him but it kept going to voicemail.

Frustrated, but determined to follow through with your ‘Seduce Andy Barber’ plan you put on another movie, chewing your lip till it bled as you impatiently waited for him.

Soon it was midnight, your food got cold and the rumbling in your tummy became more prominent so you decide to eat your dinner, put the leftovers in the freezer and cut your losses.

You were almost done with your dishes when your husband coming into the apartment, turning around you saw him hang his coat on the back of the chair and plomp down on it. He groaned, pulling the sleeves of his shirt up to reveal his bulky forearms.

“You’re home,” you said, taking off your apron so he could see your little get up.

He didn’t smile at you like you expected he would, he didn’t say ‘Good job’ like you thought he would. He certainly didn’t look like he wanted to bend you over the dining table and take you then and there. He simply frowned at you. Looking at you as if your mere existence offended him.

“I told you; you were allowed to decorate your room however you liked. Not the whole apartment,” he growled, rubbing a hand over his face.

“What? I did it for you... I thought you would like it, ” you stood there, dumbfounded, shifting from one foot to another, “You don’t like Christmas.” You realised.

“No, I don’t. Christmas isn’t all fun and jolly for everybody. I’ve never had anyone to celebrate it with,” he did you a once over, his pants tightening uncomfortably as he took in your little ensemble.

He had never had a single good Christmas in his whole life. He’d usually spend it either working or drinking. But now, he had you, his good little wife who had gone out of her way to do all this just for him.

He could kiss your red lips then and there, finally do what he’s been wanting to go for the past few months and make love to you, eat the delicious meal you had made him because he was fucking starving.

But then he realized how easily you could be taken away from him. How this was all so fickle.

“Do you want a divorce?” he crossed his hands over his chest, as if daring you to give a wrong answer, “If you do, I’ll give you one right now.”

“I - ” you strutted, you didn’t really know, “Daddy would never let that happen.” To which he scoffed.

Your father would kill you both if this marriage failed. He knew that, why would he still be willing to risk everything?

“Where are you going?” you asked when he got up from the chair.

“To my room, to sleep,” he sighed.

He knew what you would say, he knew you were daddy’s little girl who’d die before disappointing her father, which was solely why you were with him, and yet he let himself fall for you and get hurt.

You tugged on his shirt, ready to beg him to at least eat the meal you made for him but then you frowned, inhaling the feminine perfume from his shirt, mixed with his own Cologne, you took a step back, your eyes brimming with tears as you realised he might’ve been with another woman.

While you were home slaving away to make everything perfect for him.

Your father had a handful of mistresses, a few of them younger than you. Your mother knew, all wives know and look the other way. That was how it was supposed to be. It was how you make marriages last...

And your poor beaten heart could take his coldness towards you, it absolutely could not bear him being with another woman. Your father had always praised him for being loyal, and it was one of the things you loved about him...

“Where were you?” you sniffled to keep the tears at bay.

“I was out working. So I could pay for your shopping sprees.” He spat.

You gasped, “I haven’t gone shopping in months! I only did now for Christmas!”

“That tree better be down by the time I wake up. You can out all that crap in your bedroom if you like. I do not what to see it.” He said gravelly, before slamming his door shut.

Something was horribly wrong.

Andy came home to an empty, cold house. You weren’t there to greet him like you usually are, in fact you hadn’t been for the past few weeks. He could hear the TV from your room, some kind of musical playing.

He checked the kitchen for some food, you used to make dinner every night, rave about your love for cooking and baking, but now it seemed that you lived on poptarts and McDonald’s.

He knocked on your door, to ask if you wanted some of the alfredo he was cooking up, also to maybe get you to have dinner with him.

Ever since he had married you, he had such a beautiful companion to have dinner with. To watch silly romcoms with, someone who waited for him to come home, called him all worried when he was late, asked him how his day was

It’d break his heart to say good night to you, you’d give him those puppy eyes, fluttering your lashes as if begging him to invite you to bed with him.

He wanted to ask you to come, to feel what it would be like to snuggle up with your soft body, to smell your hair, to finally fuck you, but he’d just go away to sleep in his cold bed with a heavy heart. Making do with his hand as he thought of you, it wouldn’t feel nearly as good as you would but it would have to do.

“Can I come in, honey?” he asked.

Letting himself in when no answer came from you. You were lying on your bed, blankets draped over you, your eyes trained on the television. He looked around your room, he had only been there a couple of times, he had expected to see some kind of winter wonderland since you were such a fan of Christmas.

But it looked just how it usually did... pale pink walls, a queen sized bed, a small closet and a dresser and a vanity. No tree or fairy lights or nut crackers.

He leaned against the door frame. “Did you have dinner?” He wanted to know.

You made some sort of unintelligible noise; which could mean anything. So he asked, “Would you like some pasta? I can’t make it as good as you do but I’ll try.”

“No.” You answered. Still not even looking at him.

“It’s Christmas Eve, do you want to go celebrate with your family?”

You shook your head in response. “No, I think I’ll just stay here.”

He had stolen your brightness and sunshine away, tainting you with his darkness. “Stop it,” he scolded, switching off the TV and standing in front of you to make you listen to him. “Get ready, I’m dropping you off at your fathers. You’re not spending Christmas in bed.”

“What difference does it make?” you huffed.

“Get ready. Right. Now.” He ordered, pulling your blanket away from you.

“No!” you whined. Sitting up, your face heating up with a simmering rage you had harbored for months. “Why do you even care? Do you want to get me out of the house so you could spend Christmas with her?!”

“Who’s her?” he furrowed his brows.

“Your mistress!” you yelled, looking around for something you could hurt him with, you grabbed a hold of your Mrs Bunny, your cute pink stuffie and threw it at his face. “I’m not going anywhere. And you’re not bringing her in to my house!” You said, throwing another stuffie at him which he caught with his hand.

“Honey,” he said, as if he was so disappointed with you, for catching him in his lies and deceit. “I don’t have a mistress. Where would I even find the time for one? All those late nights were spent at the office or in meetings.”

He would be the world’s biggest idiot to get a mistress when he had a wife like you waiting for him at home. A wife he hadn’t even so much as even kissed... given how pouty and tempting your lips looked, he didn’t know how he resisted for so long.

“Don’t call me honey,” you puffed out your cheeks, “And I don’t believe you.”

“Well, what can I do to make you believe me?”

You sighed, laying back down on the bedding, “There’s not much you can do. Except leave me be. I just want to sleep this Christmas away.”

He had to do something to get your spirits up. And since you has thrown away your old decorations he ran to every store in the town, waiting in the queue for hours, calling in as many favors as he could to get some new ones.

While he wasn’t able to get a real Christmas tree, he got a fake one which was a bit smaller than the one you had put up but not all that bad.

You had decorated the apartment with the traditional red, greens and golden he decided to go with a soft pastel pink theme. Hoping that you would like it and forgive him.

He had gotten you couple of gifts, a little babydoll he saw on the internet, it was pink and sexy, he thought of you the moment he saw it. Ordering it for you but he never really gathered enough courage to ask you to wear it. He wrapped it up for you in some festive paper, tying a ribbon around it.

He decided to get as many gifts for you as he could so the tree wouldn’t look so depressing, a Tiffany’s set, an advent calendar from a make up company he knew you liked, a box of cookies and one of chocolates, a new apron with floral patterns and frilly trimmings, some cozy socks, and a surprise gift he had been saving for you.

Looking around the living room, while it wasn’t as good as what you had done with the place he was still proud of what he could pull off in just a couple of hours.

He called out your name before knocking and entering, switching on your bedside lamp he sat next to you, stroking your hair, “Wake up, angel.”

“Seriously, stop it with the petnames,” you said, your voice groggy from sleep and irritated. Because he had only ever said your name with contempt before.

“I’m not going to stop, honey. You’re my wife, I can call you whatever I like.”

“Whatever,” you mumbled, rubbing your sleep away from your eyes.

“I have a surprise for you.” He smiled at you.

And while he had certainly smiled at you before that, when you had said something funny or silly (which you usually did just to see him smile), this one seemed so much brighter and warm.

“What is it?” you sat up. Still a bit crossed with him but excited to see what surprise he had for you.

“You have to come into the living room for that, and promise to stop being a Grinch,” he said, bopping your nose.

You scoffed incredulously, “I’m being a Grinch?! You were the one who made me take everything down in the first place!”

“I know, honey, and I am sorry for that. Hopefully I can make it up to you.” He winked.

You combed your hair, splashing some water on your face and then following him out to see what he had in mind for you.

You all but gasped at the tree in the middle of your living room, so beautiful, the soft glow of the fairy lights illuminated the room, little festive trinklets all over the room.

He had got you a pink stocking with sparkling silver hearts on it. His was a normal red one with ‘Andy' written with a sharpie or a pen. You giggled at that.

“You like it, honey?” he asked.

You nodded, observing the ornaments on your tree, “I do. Thank you so much, Andy. It’s so beautiful, I don’t think anyone’s ever done something so grand for me.”

Your rave gave him the courage to out his hand over your waist, pulling you into him, “I know this doesn’t make up for everything, but it’s start.”

“Yes! I think... I’d like a fresh start,” you beamed up at him

He excused himself to make some hot chocolate for you both, handing you a mug with little heart shaped marshmallows and sprinkles on top of it. You didn’t even realise how you ended up snuggled up next to him on the couch, Elf playing on the TV which he shockingly had never seen before.

“You know... for someone who hates Christmas so much you did a pretty good job saving it!” you giggled, kissing his bearded cheek.

“Well...” he looked down at you, wiping away the mustache the hot chocolate gave you before sucking his thumb off, “I don’t hate it anymore, because I’m not alone,” he said, his thumb pulling on your plump bottom lip.

“Um...” you face heated up as looked away, “You got me gifts!” you screamed a bit overzealous to change the subject, “Can I open one now? Please?! I’m just so excited!”

“Sure,” he murmured, a bit salty that he didn’t get the kiss.

He knelt next to you on the carpet as you pinked one up, shaking it next to your ear, scrunching your nose up so cutely as you tried to decipher what it was.

“Mmm... I can’t tell...”

“Why don’t you just open it?” he asked as his hand caressed your bare thigh, finding himself unable to keep his hands off of you now that he has you.

You ripped at the wrapping paper, opening the box to reveal the skimpy baby pink lingerie he had got you.

You pulled it out of the box and then started stammering, unable to form words once you realised what it was. “Is this... um..”

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, it’s very cute and nice. Do you, want me to wear it for you?”

“If that’s what you want,” he said casually and then shrugged but then regretted it as your face fell and you let. He wasn’t used to half-assing things if he was going to tell you his true feelings, he had to go all out.

Taking a deep breath, “I have to tell you something I’ve been meaning to say for months.”

“What?”

“I... love you,” he looked down at your lap, because he couldn’t bear to look in your eyes if you decided to reject him.

“Oh, Andy!” you beamed, “I love you too! I’ve always loved you,” you crawled on top of him, throwing your arms around his neck you hugged him.

“That’s good then,” he smiled stroking your back, he pulled you back so he could look at your pretty face, cupping your cheek he pressed his lips against yours.

He had only kissed you once, months ago at your wedding, and while it was not bad at all it was too short and formal and distant, nothing compared to how he felt right now. Moulding his lips against yours, kneading the flesh of your ass, you tasted just as sweet as he imagined you would.

You gasped in his mouth when he rutted his erection up into your core. “Andy!” your chest heaving as you felt him pressing against your thigh.

“What do you say you go put that on for me, doll? Hm?” he instructed.

You meekly nodded, grabbing a hold of the lingerie which you just now noticed was so sheer and would not really leave anything to the imagination.

“Come on out quickly now,” his impatience seeping through his voice as he sat on the edge of his, or what would now be both of your marital bed, one leg crossed over the other, his foot tapping against the floor.

His pants already snug, just from imagining what you would look like with the flimsy thing on. It wasn’t as revealing or kinky as some of the other pieces he had seen, but he felt it would match your personality perfectly.

He groaned, calling out your name again, “I’m gonna fucking die of blue balls, if you don’t come out right now, I’m coming in,” he got up to his feet to do just that but then stopped when he heard the knob twist.

One smooth leg peaking out of the bathroom, “Um... promise you wouldn’t make fun of me?” you asked. Your eyes screwed shut, you didn’t really have much of choice but you had never been so vulnerable in front of anyone. You’d hate to not be satisfactory for him.

“I promise,” his face softened, he had to practice some restrain, at least until he breaks you in, “Now come on out.”

You opened the door, your meek eyes fixed on your hardwood floor, your hands hugging your midsection. You blinked when he said nothing for several long, tortuous moments. Peaking a glance up at him you found him staring at you.

“Uh, do you like it?” you asked as your hands played with the helm of the teddy.

He almost scoffed. Like would be an understatement.

He knew pink would be your color. The nightie so short, clinging to your curves, your nipples pebbled against the satiny fabric, you looked like a sweet little doll and a whole fucking meal to devour at the same time. He would burst before he even got to touch you.

“Twirl,” he made the motion with his forefinger to demonstrate it, “Let me look at you better. And hands to your sides.”

You took a deep breath, letting your hands fall, doing as he had asked, your heart hammering in your chest because for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out if he actually liked you.

“Stop there,” he instructed when he got a look at your pert, round butt, the cloth barely covering it, he could see the imprints of the thong you wore.

“What are you thinking?” you asked.

“If I like your front better or your behind.” He almost chuckled at the incredulous gasp you let out. “Alright, look at me again.” Definitely the front, because he could see your beautiful face. Taking his original position on the bedding, “Come here,” he patted his lap.

Like the obedient wife that you aspired to be, you followed, perching yourself up on his lap, your arms around his neck for some support, looking into his lust blown, dark eyes.

You bite your lip when you felt that pressing into your thigh. Unable to bear his intense gaze you hid your face in the crook of his neck.

He hushed you, snuggling your soft body closer to his, his fingers drawing patterns on your hip, “How many men have you been with before?”

It didn’t really matter whatever your answer would be. But he wanted to tell you, that how ever many there were before him won’t matter anymore. From now on you are solely his.

“None,” you whispered so lowly that he almost couldn’t hear you.

“What?” Holding onto your chin so that he could make you look at him, “None? How is that possible?”

“I’ve just been waiting for the right one... I was going to with Alex but then didn’t...” you said as your hands caressed the coarse hair on his jaw.

He hummed, the fact that he would be your one and only, forever, only served to entice him further.

“Have you ever sucked a cock before?” he asked, although he knew the answer.

“No...”

“Don’t worry, I’ll guide you,” he promised, pushing on your shoulders to make you get on your knees.

You hissed at the cold floor, biting into the your calves and knees.

His dainty princess, he grabbed a throw pillow, instructing you to put it under, all the while staring at your cleavage peaking out like a creep.

Your eyes were fixated on his crotch, eager to see what a real penis looks like. You had watched some porn when you were a teen, out of sheer curiosity, but your friends had told you to lower your expectations. That real ones are much smaller and not so aesthetically pleasing.

You all but gasped when he took his cock out of the confines of his sweats, slapping over his abdomen. So big... and thick, with two veins over it, a bright flushed tip leaking with pre-ejaculate, and some soft hair dusted at the base of it.

You tried to stop yourself but then couldn’t help it, your hand shyly touching his tip yanking it down and then releasing it to see what happens. As suspected it flew back over, hard against his tummy, making you giggled.

“Oh gosh...” you slapped a palm over your mouth to stop from laughing.

He scrunched up the hair on the back of your head, yanking your neck back so that he could look at you, “What’s so funny?” he growled.

“Nothing,” you gulped, “It’s all just so strange and new... and exciting...”

He hummed as he took in your words. Grabbing the base of his cock as he rubbed his tip and precum all over your cheeks till your face was positively glowing with his essence.

“You wanna taste it?” he asked, to which you eagerly nodded.

Nudging your pouty lips with his tips before tapping on them when you didn’t get the clue, “Open.”

“Oh,” you said before opening as wide as you could, his length easing into your mouth. You hummed around him, the salty unique taste of him you had never really known before and couldn’t get enough of now.

He was barely halfway through inside you when he touched the back of your throat, he tutted, “Relax your throat,” he told you.

You didn’t really know what he meant but you tried loosening up all your muscles. Choking around him when he pushed in a few more inches.

Most of him was still out but it was as good as it’s gonna get, not that he’d ever complain... no... your mouth was like heaven. He had only known his hand for the past year Or so, and your mouth was almost too much.

Holding onto your face to keep it in place he started thrusting upwards into you, his heart swelling with tears escaped your eyes but you still tried to take more of him, to please him like the good girl that you were.

He stopped his hips, gently slapping your cheek to get your attention, “You always look at me when my dick is in your mouth. Got it?”

Since you couldn’t talk with your mouth full of cock, you just nodded.

You peered up at him innocently, fluttering your lashes, popping him out of your sloppy mouth, “Am I doing it right?” because you truly couldn’t tell.

He chuckled, smoothening a hand down your hair, “More than right... it’s too good but I want to come in your pussy. Maybe I’ll make you swallow my load latter, what do you think?”

“Yes, I’d like that,” you licked your lips to taste more of him.

“Get on the bed,” he ordered.

“Um... can I go fix my face before that,” you rubbed your mouth with the back of your hand, you doubted you looked very pretty to him then.

“No,” he stated, pulling you up by your armpits and all but throwing you on the bed.

You yelped and tried to protest, “I wanna look good for you...”

He pushed your legs apart to make room for him, smirking above you, eyeing you up as if you were a piece of meat, his prey, “This really does look pretty on you...” he rubbed the flimsy spagetti strap between his fingers, “but it’s served it’s purpose.”

You screamed, holding onto his wrists as he ripped the babydoll in two pieces, revealing your breasts to him, he yanked at it, throwing the remains away.

“That’s much better,” he gritted, pinching one of your peaks, capturing it in his mouth and suckling at it to his hearts content.

You pouted as you looked at the torn cloth, a bit upset that he ruined his gift to you. “I really liked that...” you sniffled. But couldn’t really ponder because Andy’s ravenous mouth was sucking hickies all over your breasts.

“I’ll buy you another one. I’ll buy you ten more,” he bit into the side of your breasts, your mewls and whines were like music to his ears.

“Andy...” you heaved, “Don’t leave marks... I have to go to dinner tomorrow to moms...”

He stopped abruptly, propping himself up above you and you were afraid that you had upset him, “You’re my wife now, honey. Your father gave you to me,” his hand snaking down your body, between your legs, he parted your moist lips, the pad of his fingers meeting your little pearl, “I can do whatever I want with you,” he reminded you, pushing a finger into you, “This cunt is mine now, got it?”

“Yess...” you whined as you squirmed under him, the invasion of his finger inside you too alien to your body.

“Which means you ask for permission before you touch yourself, or better yet, don’t touch yourself because that’s my job,” he stated.

“Have you ever made yourself come?” he asked, trailing soft kisses down your body till he settled between your legs, moving the strong of the thing to the side so he could get a better look at your virgin pussy, adding another finger inside you, your snug walls clinging to his digits, “You’re so fucking small. Can barely fit my finger. How will you take my cock,” he teased.

He’d make you take it.

You whimpered at the sting of it, “I’ll try, daddy...” throwing your head back as you massaged your breast.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, looking down at him when he stopped his ministrations, “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” he quirked a brow. “Do you realise what you just called me?”

You simply shook your head because you hadn’t really called him anything, “Andy?”

“No,” he huffed, “You called me daddy, honey.”

You gasped, you didn’t mean to say it out loud! “No...” you shook you head from side to side, trying to pull away from his fingers still knuckle deep inside you, “It can’t be!”

“Oh, but you did,” he laughed, “And you’re gonna say it again. In fact, from now on, when it’s just the two of us that’s the only thing that you will call me. Unless you wanna get punished...”

“Okay...” you said, still a bit unsure of it all.

You had always called him ‘daddy’ in your fantasies. It was maybe a bit expected for it to slip out like that but still so embarrassing. You said it again just to make sure that he actually wanted you to call him that and wasn’t just teasing you.

“Good girl,” he winked, latching his mouth around your clit, fucking you with his fingers as he kept sucking.

“Daddy...” you whined, biting on your hand to muffle some of your noises, a knot building up in the pit of your stomach, “Don’t stop, please!”

You gushed over his mouth, he lapped it all up, making sure nothing went to waste.

“You did good, honey,” he said, your cheeks heating up when you saw his beard glistening with your juices. He rolled your thong down your thick thighs, “You wear this to dinner tomorrow,” he told you. “Since I’m going to be a real husband from now on I pick out what you wear.”

All so he could see you in those pretty flowy dresses you wear sometimes, but you didn’t need to know that.

He hastily pushed his sweats and briefs past his hips, throwing them off the bed before pulling his t-shirt over his head.

You bit your lip at just the sight of him. His shoulders so broad, chest so wide, dark hair dusted all over his chest, you just knew then that all those hours he spent at the gym paid off, you knew he’d be ripped.

But you absolutely did not expect, someone as uptight as him to have numerous tattoos all over his torso.

Something inscribed in Sanskrit on his chest that you didn’t really understand... the logo of your family’s mob on just under his pectoral.

You sat up to get a better look at them, tracing a skull on his bicep that looked much less sophisticated than the others, the lines a bit scribbly, it was already fading.

“That’s the first one,” he interrupted you, “I was a kid back then, got my foster brother to do it.”

You pressed a kiss over it, “I love it.”

His blue eyes beamed at you, he was so beautiful...

“Now for your gift...” he circled your wrist bringing it down to his pelvis.

“Hm?” you looked down, tears brimming up in your eyes as you saw your name written on just beside his hipbone, next to his hard cock, standing tall against his stomach. In a small heart, dark ink against his pale skin, “When did you get it done?” you sniffles, touching his skin to feel the texture of the tattoo.

“A few weeks ago. I just... I’ve never belonged to anyone. Never had a family of my own. But now I have you, and you have me, I’m just as much yours as you’re mine,” he confessed, finally feeling the weight of it lifted off his shoulders. You were a blessing in disguise.

“I love you,” you beamed up at him.

“I love you too, doll, now come on,” he pushed you till you were on your back, “Daddy’s waited long enough. Can’t wiat to fill you up, make you mine.”

He planted a hand on the mattress, so he could see what he was doing to your virgin cunt, look at you and her, as he defiles you and makes you a woman, his thick manhood nudging your glistening lips as he eased into you, he felt you stretching around him, your face twisted in pain as you begged him to go easy on you, he halted when he felt your barrier.

He looked up at your pretty face, sparkling with his spend and your tears, your sweet little whimpers filled the room, he stayed still for a moment to let you get used to him, he knew he should take it easy.

His wife was a delicate, fragile, sweet little girl. He should be more gentle. A better husband and man would be. But he had his whole life to become a good man for you, tonight he just wanted to take what was rightfully his.

Letting out a deep, almost animalistic growl, piercing through your seal, your innocence till you were screeching, your nails drawing blood from the sides of his thighs.

“It hurts!” you screamed.

“It’ll only hurt for a little bit, doll. Just ride through it,” he cooed, stroking your sensitive clit to draw your attention away from the pain, he withdrew his hips before snapping them back till he was deep within your womb.

“You’re so snug, honey,” he grunted, not letting up his pace as he kept fucking into you,

A proud smirk gracing his face as he looked down to see himself covered in blood, a sticky mess of both your bodily fluids where your sexes were joined. His dick somehow grew harder inside you knowing how he took something from you that you’ll never be able to give someone else.

Slowly your crying and whining was subsiding as you got used to have him inside you, but he wanted to hear you scream for him in a different way. “Don’t you want to make your husband, no, your daddy happy, honey?” He asked, each word punctuated with a deep, harsh thrust into you.

You nodded, willing your tears away, cringing when you saw his crotch covered in your blood, “Yes I do, daddy. What do I do?”

“Your cute dumb brain always needs to be told what to do,” he chuckled, moving closer to you he circled his palms around your wrists, pinning them above you, “Wrap your legs around me.”

You followed along, wrapping your legs around his hips and hooking them together on his back. Closing your eyes when you felt your body seizing up, your pussy pulsating around his length when you felt the familiar feeling creep up on you.

“Look at me!” he barked and you immediately opened your eyes, “You look at me when I fuck you.”

You gulped and dared not close your eyes again. Even as you felt your orgasm wash over you, clenching around his length. His face was scrunched up, his neck, face and chest flush as he chased his own release till you felt his warm release coating your walls.

He collapsed above you, panting beside you he kissed your hair, “You liked that, babygirl?”

You let out a meek little yes. Feeling empty and void of his warmth and hardness when he pulled out of you before settling next to you.

“But...” you trailed off. Not finding it in you to bare yourself to him like that just yet.

“But what?” he whipped his head to look at you.

“But I’m sorry if I wasn’t very good!” Since you had simple laid there and took whatever he gave you. You had heard that men don’t like that...

“Don’t worry, honey, you were absolutely perfect,” he sighed. “You’ll get even better with practice, we’re gonna practice a lot from now on.”

You tried to cover your breasts up with the comforter, still awkward about being stark naked right next to a man, a man who looked as good as like Andy, but he swatted at your hands, reprimanding you and telling you to stay still and let him look at you to his hearts content.

Soon you felt your cunt throbbing back up again, still so raw from the loving Andy gave it, you tried rubbing your legs together to ease it a little bit.

“It still hurts?” Andy asked as you nodded.

He snaked a hand between your legs, massaging your little nub and your lips, tutting when you tried to pull away from his touch, “Shh I’m trying to make it hurt less.”

He hummed when he saw his seed leak out of you, pushing a finger in you, much to your displeasure, to keep it inside you, where it belonged.

He would make you go on some form of birth control as soon as he could. While the idea of you all round and plump with his kid was more than appealing, he didn’t want to share you with anyone else just yet. You were young, he had plenty of years to breed you.

“You’d make a good mother,” he wondered out loud.

“Hm?” you blinked at him. Squirming from the torture he was yielding on your overworked sex. His lips curled up in a twisted smile as he pulled his fingers out of you, wiping your blood on your soft nipples, painting them crimson as you shivered.

You looked at his cock, hard again against his stomach. “Does it hurt?” you asked, your hands twitching to touch it again.

“Yes, it does. Do you wanna help me get rid of the pain?”

“Mm... can I use my mouth again? I’m sore...”

“It’s okay, honey, you’ll get used to it,” he promised, grabbing your hips and pulling you on top of him, your palms pressed into his abdomen as you looked so wrecked, “Guide me in,” he ordered.

You shook your head which earned you a harsh slap on your ass so you held onto the base of his cock, parting your intimate lips, before slowly sinking down on him.

You sighed as you settled, sitting on top of him with his cock nestled inside you, so full and strangely satisfied, his warmth soothing your aching walls, he spanked you again to remind you to move, so you started bouncing on top of him the best you could.

His hand groped at your bouncing titts before he wrapped a hand around your throat, applying the slightest bit of pressure as you whimpered and cried, just to remind you who’s in charge, not that you’d forget anytime soon.

His only regret was that he hadn’t done this sooner. He was an idiot to ever resist an angel like you. He’ll have to do a lot to make up for lost time.

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wandaromanova · 3 years

Text

Lost

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of cancer, death, cussing

A/N: hello! i’d like to put a disclaimer that i am not in any way knowledgeable of the medical field and all of the terminology and information used in this fic was found through research! happy reading <3

anon requested: hiiiii !! can i request like an angst into fluff natxfem!reader one shot where the reader has a really bad day and takes it out on nat and hurts her feelings and so they go to bed angry. but the reader realizes their mistake and the next morning just wakes her up by showering her with love and then takes the whole day to do cute little date things with her? like making her favorite meal or like dancing in the kitchen to their favorite song late at night or just super fluffy things? if not, that’s okay!! have a good day <3

Summary: The heavy weight of her profession gets to Y/N and she takes her anger out on her loving girlfriend; Natasha Romanoff.

Word Count: 3K | navigation

please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work. reblogs, likes, and comments are always welcome. <3

Becoming a doctor was no easy feat.

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Once high school is completed, one must receive your bachelor’s degree before taking the MCAT exam and applying to medical school. After four years of medical school, you must endure a year as an intern before being promoted to a resident.

Depending on what specialty one has selected, residency can span from three to seven years. Fellowships follow after but are typically an optional course that provides extra training.

Yes, there are a lot of necessary steps to take in order to set foot into the medical world, but somehow, the years of foreplay could never compare to being a full-fledged physician; and you knew this all too well.

You are a pediatric oncologist and your job was to diagnose and provide treatment to children and teenagers who had cancer. You specialized in hematology; the treatment of blood disorders.

You were the head of pediatric oncology in a Manhattan hospital. You dealt with a lot of patients, but a two-year-old little girl named Sarah was secretly your favorite.

Despite being diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia, Sarah’s positivity and playful personality never faltered.

Even if she didn’t understand the circumstances because of her young age, you knew she was suffering. Regardless of it all, every session you had with her was endearing.

You met with the child once a week to administer chemotherapy. Her enthusiasm never failed to have you awestruck. Most of your patients were exhausted from the treatments, but not Sarah.

She was a hyper child who would attempt to sing Frozen songs, performing as you tried to fight a smile from taking over your features. She had a stuffed Olaf doll that she brought with her to every visit and it was heartwarming to see her hug the doll close to her chest.

Sarah would even bring you drawings every week that you would keep in your locker. You’d admire each and every one of the drawings, even if you couldn’t really tell what they were.

You’d grown fond of the little girl in the past two months you had been treating her. You were also relatively close to her parents, who were probably the kindest people you’ve ever encountered. It made sense that Sarah was the ball of sunshine she was, she obviously got it from her parents.

Most times, parents were on edge and extremely short-tempered. If parents saw you often, that meant that their child was diagnosed with some form of cancer. Understandably, they would be rather hostile whilst interacting with you, but you never took their behavior personally.

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If you were in their shoes, you were positive that you wouldn’t be very friendly either.

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You had grown fond of the beaming child. You were aware that growing emotionally attached to patients was unprofessional, but how could you not?

You adored children and for that very reason, you had chosen a specialty that allowed you to help kids as much as medicine would allow. You always had a soft spot for kids and you found joy in helping them as best as you possibly could.

Sarah had a very good chance at pulling through. With consistent treatment and her young age, her survival rate was around 68%. Those were considerably good odds in these circumstances. Not to mention, the chemotherapy seemed to be paying off. At the rate she was improving, she was predicted to be out of the woods soon enough.

However, the child had developed a bacterial infection. Since she had been receiving chemotherapy, the treatment had damaged her white blood cells which are responsible for fighting off infections.

All you could do was provide antibiotics to try and fight off the infection. You had monitored her for some time in hopes of seeing any sign of improvement, but unfortunately, it wasn’t enough. Her immune system was extremely vulnerable and there wasn’t any way to reverse the damage.

Your heart was torn to pieces when you delivered the news to her parents. They broke down in the hallway outside of Sarah’s room as you informed them of Sarah’s rapidly shortened life expectancy. It was only a matter of time before the young child would pass and honestly, this was what you hated most about your job.

You hated that you couldn’t help every single patient. You hated how cruel the world could be to take away an innocent child from their loving parents.

You allowed her parents to spend time by her bedside. They laid on either side of her bed, clinging onto her for dear life. What broke you the most was the paleness of Sarah’s once glowing skin. Her smile was still present but didn’t quite reach her eyes like it used to.

Her parents quietly sang ‘Love Is An Open Door’ to Sarah. You felt your heart clench in a bittersweet way as you silently watched. Normally, Sarah wouldn’t hesitate to join in, but her lack of breath prevented her from doing so. All she could do was close her eyes and lightly nod her head along to their voices.

Sarah passed hours later and it was an extremely somber experience. Hearing the cries of parents who lost their children wasn’t easy and it never would be. Your job had its pros and cons, and this was the biggest negative.

You fought back your own tears as you exited the room, giving the two mourning parents some privacy after you recorded Sarah’s time of death. You found the nearest restroom and allowed the tears to fall down your face.

A pure soul had been ripped away from the world, never having the chance to experience the great things life had to offer.

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

4 Hours Later

You trudged into your loft, immediately taking off your coat and hanging it up before tossing your keys on the small table by the front door.

Your girlfriend, Natasha, had heard your arrival and quickly exited the bedroom to greet you, a wide smile on her face. However, her smile fell when she noticed your defeated state.

Your shoulders were slumped as you slouched slightly and your eyes were dripping with sadness.

“Honey? What’s wrong?” Natasha approached you while you stood frozen in front of the door. Her hands came up to cup your cheeks as she stared at you in concern, her eyes scanning over your features.

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“I lost Sarah.”

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Natasha’s eyes widened and her heart sunk at your words. She was aware of how much you adored the two-year-old. Once a week, you would rave about the child and how adorable she was at the dinner table. You would go on and on about how Sarah would sing to you, draw pictures for you, and bring along stickers to place onto your coat.

The redhead loved how happy you looked whenever you spoke about any of your patients, but most especially Sarah. It brought Natasha some joy of her own to see you speak animatedly about Sarah; your happiness was her happiness.

So, the news hurt her almost as much as it hurt her. She knew how much you loved Sarah, despite never saying it straight out.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I know how much you cared about her. Are you okay?” Natasha’s voice was oozing with sympathy. You couldn’t help but feel irritated by her question.

You tore her hands off of your cheeks and walked past her and into the kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of water as the redhead watched you intently.

“Am I okay? I’m fine! It’s not like I lost an extremely young patient today or anything. What kind of stupid fucking question is that, Natasha?” You took a sip of cold water to try and calm yourself damn, but your attempt was futile.

The redhead made her way into the kitchen, standing on the opposite side of the island as you took another sip of water, eyes burning a hole into her head over the rim of the glass.

“I know, that was a dumb question. I just want to help you, Y/N/N.” Natasha remained calm and patient as she spoke to you. She was no stranger to the loss of a person she desperately tried to save and knew all too well the sadness and anger that accompanied the tragedy. She was an Avenger, after all.

“I don’t want your help and I don’t need you!” You slammed your cup onto the counter as you raised your voice. Honestly, it was surprising that you hadn’t shattered the glass with the amount of force you exerted.

Natasha felt an ache in her chest as you yelled at her. She knew that you weren’t in the right state of mind and didn’t take it personally, but that didn’t make your words hurt any less.

“You save entire cities and I can’t even save a single fucking person!” You were turning red at this point, tears of frustration streaming down your face. The redhead hated seeing you cry, but she knew better than to approach you at this moment.

“Babe, you save so many pe-” Natasha’s tried to speak, but you quickly interjected.

“If you’re going to try and spew some philosophical bullshit to me right now, I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear another god damn word from your mouth.”

The redhead looked down defeatedly. She had never seen you so upset, let alone direct your frustrations towards her. Her eyes fell down to the marble counter between you both before looking up at you. You were breathing heavily, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried to catch your breath.

Without another word, Natasha retreated back to the bedroom, shutting the door softly behind her. You watched her until she was out of your view and let out a sigh. Your hands gripped the edges of the kitchen island, supporting your weight as you shut your eyes.

You brought a hand up to your face and pinched the bridge of your nose. After a few minutes, you made your way into the living room, chucking off your shoes before collapsing onto the couch. You didn’t feel like interacting with Natasha anymore tonight, knowing that you most likely wouldn’t be able to control your temper.

You were just so fed up with the painful losses you had to endure from your profession.

You knew that being a doctor was more dark clouds and thunder, than sunshine and rainbows, but you just wished that for once, the weather forecast would work in your favor.

The emotional day had finally caught up to you. Your body relaxed as you sunk further into the couch, eyes fluttering shut as you succumbed to a much-needed slumber.

Unbeknownst to you, Natasha was still awake. She laid flat on her back and stared up at the ceiling in thought. She was mad at you, as much as she didn’t want to be. Natasha had gone through the same thing and never lost her cool with you as you had with her.

The redhead calmed down slowly, turning on her side and facing the empty space beside her which you normally occupied. She reached one arm out, her skin colliding with cool sheets, already missing the warmth of your body.

Natasha hated sleeping without you by her side, She didn’t feel complete when you weren’t steadily sleeping next to her, your arms wrapped around her body. However, she hoped that things would improve in the morning.

And with that thought in mind, she drifted off into a dreamless sleep, clutching the sheets firmly in her hand.

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

The Next Morning

You awoke to a blinding light, the morning sun shining through the windows and landing directly onto your face. You let out a groan and slowly sat up, stretching out your limbs with a groan. The couch wasn’t the most comfortable place to sleep, you were aching everywhere.

You sat there for a moment as the events of the day before caught up to you. Not only had you lost Sarah, but you upset Natasha. You immediately felt guilty as you recalled the harsh words you spat at her in a fit of rage. You felt like a complete asshole, and rightfully so.

You quickly stood up and entered the kitchen, retrieving some bacon from the freezer and eggs from the refrigerator. You grabbed two separate pans and washed your hands, making sure to get the coffee pot running before you began cooking.

Your girlfriend absolutely loved bacon, eggs, and coffee. She described the combinations as a ‘party in her mouth.’ So, this was going to be an ‘i’m sorry for being a bitch last night’ apology breakfast.

You got started on the meal and by the time you finished up and had the stove off, Natasha stalked out of the bedroom slowly. She eyed you carefully as she approached, you sent a soft smile her way.

“You made breakfast,” Natasha spoke and you shyly nodded your head. You moved away from the stove and rounded the counter. The redhead stood in her spot as you wrapped your arms around her waist, her arms reflexively going around your neck.

“I was an asshole last night.” You stated and your girlfriend nodded her head in agreement. “Yeah, you were a total pain in the ass, the absolute worst.” You rolled your eyes at Natasha’s teasing tone.

“I’m sorry for how I behaved. I was just so upset about… Sarah. I didn’t mean to take it out on you and I can’t even begin to tell you how bad I feel for yelling at you when all you wanted to do was help me.”

Your voice was full of emotion, your eyes boring into her emerald irises as you poured your heart into every syllable you uttered. Natasha smile gently at you, her fingers lightly tugging on the baby hairs on the nape of your neck.

“It’s okay. I know you weren’t mad at me.” You let out a sigh of relief as the redhead stared at you softly. She let out a small chuckle at your dramatics before continuing.

‘I understand how you feel. The team and I, we try our very best to save as many civilians as we can, but sometimes it’s completely out of our control. It’s the exact same situation.”

One of Natasha’s hands found its way to your cheek, gently cupping the skin as you leaned into her touch. You were listening intently to her every word, mesmerized by the calming rasp of her voice.

“Don’t dwell on what you couldn’t do, but give yourself some credit for everything you did do. I may not know what happened, but what I do know is that you tried everything you could, no?”

Natasha questioned you and you nodded your head. “I gave her antibiotics to fight the infection, but it was too severe.” The redhead rubbed her thumb against your cheek.

“All that matters is that you did your best and that’s all anyone could ever ask for.” Natasha ended her little speech as she placed a soft kiss on the tip of your nose. You couldn’t help but smile, an overwhelming feeling of happiness taking over.

“Thank you. I love you and your… what was it?” You furrowed your eyebrows in concentration before your face lit up. Natasha raised an eyebrow at you. “Philosophical bullshit. That was the words.” The Russian let out a laugh, shaking her head from side to side at your antics.

“Seriously though, I’m so grateful for you. You’re so amazing to me even when I don’t deserve it. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Natasha’s laughter died down as your tone turned serious. Your eyes were so full of love and adoration as you stared into her eyes deeply.

“Well, let’s hope you never have to find out.” Natasha smiled once more and you couldn’t resist pressing your lips against her plump ones. Your mouths moved in tandem at a slow pace, enjoying the rawness and love that accompanied each movement.

You broke the kiss when air became an issue. Nat’s eyes fluttered open as you wiggled your eyebrows at her playfully.

“So, are you ready for some breakfast? Maybe after we eat, we can go on top of a rooftop and I’ll serenade you with a rendition of ‘Sorry’ by Justin Bieber.”

Natasha’s head flew back as she laughed uncontrollably at your words. “What? Do you not like the Biebs? If you want, I could play ‘Baby Come Back’ by Player from a boombox and hold it over my head, instead.” The redhead continued to laugh profusely and you soon joined in. Your arms tightened around her waist as your giggles subsided.

“I think cuddling on the couch and watching the Kardashians eating ridiculously large bowls of salad will do.” You nodded your head in agreement but didn’t make a move to release Natasha from your grip. She didn’t let go either.

The two of you just stood there, basking in each other’s embrace, a comfortable silence falling over you both.

Natasha never failed to say the right things to pull you out of the dark abyss that was your mind. She was completely right, as always. There would always be bad days, patients who were progressing one day and deteriorating the next.

However, there were also good days, and you shouldn’t allow the bad to overshadow all the good you’ve done. Like with Natasha, she wasn’t always the superhero she is today. She took her dark past and turned it into a bright future.

Nat didn’t let her bad days define her and neither should you.

Of course, you would always remember every single patient you had lost, but now, you would take the pain and turn it into motivation; motivation to improve yourself, not only in your professional life but in your personal life as well.

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You would do right by the ones you’ve lost and the one who stuck by your side; Natasha Romanoff.

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diaphragmjellyfish · 3 years

Text

I Have This... Thing

Not My Gif

So as someone with vaginismus, it’s sometimes frustrating to read fan fiction, specifically smut. Y/N always has sex so easily and with very little foreplay, finishing with no issues. And it’s so great for people who can do that, but it’s not the case for all of us. Some of us can’t have any sort of penetration without pain. Some people can’t finish without toys, or hours of work. Some people will never be able to have penetrative sex. There’s all kinds of people, and there’s all kinds of sex. But not near enough fics featuring Y/N’s with these issues. So I’m going to write some, and feel free to request any issue with any character, and if I don’t know that character, we can collaborate to find a character you like that I do know.

Paul Lahote x reader smut.

You had lived in Forks for about 6 months now. You’ve known your new friends here for 5 months. And you’ve been the imprint of Paul Lahote for 3 months. Well, you’ve been his imprint since you guys first locked eyes at La Push when you first hung out with Emily, but he didn’t tell you about the whole werewolf/ imprint thing until 3 months ago. Safe to say it came as a shock. Your friends, the people who had welcomed you so easily, helped you move furniture around, and gave you tours of the new town, were WOLVES. Or engaged to wolves. *cough* Emily *cough*. You had to take a few weeks break from them after they told you. After Sam explained the legends, the lore. After Paul told you that you were basically his soul mate. It’s a lot to take in!

But you quickly realized that you had grown to love the pack. And now that you knew the big secret, things were easier around them. No more lies about where they had all been. No more avoiding talking about their mysterious injuries that only seemed to last for a couple hours. No more awkwardly dancing around why Paul stared at you constantly and wouldn’t let any other guy get within 6 feet of you without having a rage attack and sprinting into the woods. Things were going good.

Well… as good as they could be without sex. Yep. You and Paul had been together for 3 months and you have not had sex. You didn’t give each other head. You didn’t take your clothes off around each other. You didn’t even dry hump. And you knew it was your fault. You could tell that Paul was getting nervous about the fact that you wouldn’t let him touch you like that. He would never ask you about it, because he wouldn’t want you to feel pressured or rushed, but you could tell it was on his mind. The little sad smile he would give when you stopped things from going further. The hover of his hands over your ass before landing back on your waist. The way he looked almost guilty after looking at you in a swimsuit or crop top.

See, vaginismus made relationships difficult. You never had a long term relationship before Paul. You were either too scared to tell partners about it, and just dealt with the excruciating pain, which would lead to resentment and breakups, or you would tell them and they would ghost you. Guys don’t normally go for girls who’s opening line is “Hi! I cannot have sex without crying.” You’d been dilating for almost a year now. It was going okay. Some days hurt more than others. A lot of times, Paul would ask you to hang out when you were in the middle of your physical therapy, and you would have to make up some excuse as to why you couldn't. Too tired. Headache. Stomach bug. He was starting to catch on.

One day, you guys were hanging out at your apartment watching a movie. You had been making out, but as soon as it started getting slightly heated, you had pulled away and got up to get a drink refill. Paul, having gotten used to the routine, didn’t question you. While you were in the kitchen pouring some more juice, Paul asked “Hey babe? Do you have a charger I can borrow?”

“Yeah it’s in the top drawer of my bedside table,” you haphazardly yelled back.

You heard him get up and go into your bedroom, rummaging around a little. Then silence.

“Hey babe?” he said hesitantly. You thought he just couldn’t find the charger, so you began walking towards your room to grab it for him. Once you got to the doorway, you stopped dead in your tracks. Eyes wide. Face bright red. Paul held up the dilator you were currently on, which was about 5 inches long and looked… well let’s be honest. It looked like a dildo. The bottle of lubricant that was also in the drawer didn’t help your case. How the fuck were you supposed to explain yourself? You expected Paul to tease you, make some sex jokes, and maybe try to make out with you again, but he didn’t. He looked absolutely crushed.

“Do you not want to have sex with me?” He asked, sounding on the verge of tears.

“What?! Paul, of course I want to have sex with you!”

“Then why this?” he pressed.

“You don’t even know what that’s for. Let me explain,” you pleaded, afraid he was going to lose that infamous temper. You’d never witnessed it before, but you were scared you were about to.

“I think I have a pretty good guess about what this is for!” He exclaimed, holding it up. “You won’t even let me kiss your neck but you have this that you obviously use when I’m not around. You don’t want to have sex with me. Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Paul! That’s not true at all!” You were starting to get irritated at his assumptions. “It’s for physical therapy.”

“Oh, is that what we’re calling orgasms now?” He questioned, exasperated.

“I’m not talking about orgasms! If you gave me two seconds to explain, you would know that that does not bring me an ounce of pleasure. I hate having to use it.” You started to tear up at this, all the memories of your struggles surging back up. At this, Paul stopped. He looked super confused, but also worried about you. God forbid you shed a tear, Paul would rip the world apart to make you happy again. “Come sit down,” you said, resigned, as you moved to sit on the edge of your bed. Paul, still holding the dilator in his hand, sat down next to you. The silence seemed to last an eternity, but you knew that the longer you went without explaining, the more hurt Paul would feel.

“I wasn’t lying when I said it was for physical therapy,” you whispered. “I have other ones. All different sizes.” You realized you might not have been helping your case with this.

“I don’t understand. Why do you need them if you don’t use them to get off?” He looked like a kicked puppy.

“Well… I have this thing. It’s like… a condition? And I need them so maybe one day I can have sex without any pain.” He still looked wildly confused, and you knew you were going to have to elaborate. “When I first started having sex, it hurt. A lot. But I always heard that it was supposed to hurt the first time. So I just kind of put up with it. It was bad though. I always tapped out, couldn’t go for more than a couple minutes. It felt like this really intense stinging. Like a rugburn all inside me. And it didn’t stop, even after I started doing it more. It never went away… I ended up googling it, and it’s actually something that a lot of women struggle with. I made a doctor’s appointment and was lucky enough to get diagnosed the first time. Lots of women are told they’re making it up. My doctor gave me these dilators, told me how to use them, and said that with enough time and physical therapy, I could have painless sex one day.” When you finished, you turned to look at him. He was staring intently at the dilator, thinking.

“So, you have to like… stretch yourself? Were you just born too small?” He phrased it delicately, but you knew what he meant.

“Basically, it’s an anxiety disorder with very physical symptoms. My pelvic floor muscles constrict when I try to put anything inside me, which makes it super painful. It’s like an involuntary reflex. Like blinking when something flies near your face. And I have to condition my body to learn that penetration doesn’t hurt, and that it doesn’t have to tighten up like that. The condition is called vaginismus. You can google it yourself if you want.”

“Oh.” A pause. Paul knew you had some anxiety, but he never guessed it could cause something like this. He knew you were embarrassed. He could tell. And the last thing he wanted was for you to feel like you couldn’t be open and vulnerable with him. Did you think he would leave you? Or get mad? “Why didn’t you tell me?” Was the question that came out.

“It’s humiliating. I could tell you were getting antsy about us not having sex, and I guess I didn’t have the heart to tell you that it’s not going to happen anytime soon. This physical therapy, it takes a while. I’ve already been doing it for almost a year, and I still have three sizes after this one.” A tear fell. You wiped it away quickly, hoping he Paul wouldn’t notice, but he did. He moved to wrap his arms around you, putting the dilator back on your nightstand. He embraced you, and the reassurance that he wasn’t going anywhere was more than you could handle. You burst into tears as he pulled you onto his lap and rocked you both, rubbing his hand up and down your back. You guys stayed there until you stopped crying, and then he finally spoke.

“Y/N, I don’t ever want you to feel like there’s something you can’t tell me. I love you. And yeah, I would love to have sex with you one day, but I’m with you because of who you are. I don’t care if we never do it. You are my person, and I will spend the rest of my life trying to make you the happiest you can be. This? This thing you think is such a problem? It’s irrelevant to me. To my love for you. And I will be here every step of the way, supporting you, cheering you on, until you don’t want me anymore.” He brought your hand up to his mouth and kissed it.

“I love you, Paul,” was all you could say. You leaned in and shared the sweetest, most loving kiss either of you had ever experienced. His hand cupped the side of your face, thumb rubbing your cheek. When you pulled away, the tension in the room was gone, replaced with you and Paul’s usual light, fun energy.

“How do you use them?” He smiled as he asked, nodding his head towards your nightstand where the dilator still rested. “Do you like… just ride them? Or..?”

You laughed, which made his smile broaden. “It’s not a sexual thing. Basically I put a towel down, cover the dilator in lube, and put it in as far as I can without pain. Then, I just sit there and leave it for like 20 minutes. And then I take it out.”

“So you just like... do homework while you do it?” His concerned face made you laugh again.

“You have to make your body associate it with pleasure, so no, I don’t do homework. Normally I’ll watch a funny show or eat some candy or FaceTime you.”

He froze at this. “You do this when we FaceTime?”

This made you blush and look away from his piercing gaze. “Sometimes. I can stop if it makes you uncomfortable. It’s just a nice distraction.”

“No, no. I don’t want you to stop. It’s just… can I see you do it?” This question shocked you. Not just the question itself, but the fact that you didn’t hate the idea. You loved kissing Paul. What better way to associate therapy with pleasure than by kissing him while you do it?

“Are you sure? Like I said, it’s not exactly sexual. Or sexy. Like at all. I literally just sit there.”

“I know, it’s ok. I want to be able to help you, but if you don’t want to we can just go back to the movie.”

“I mean I do still have to do it today.” You thought for another second, before jumping up and saying “Okay. Let’s do it.”

Paul looked happy and excited, but also lost. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, or with his eyes. Did you want him to touch you? Or just watch you? Or just sit in the corner of the room and face the wall? You were spreading a towel across the middle of the bed, and went to untie your sweatpants before looking at him.

“Guess we haven’t really gotten this far, huh?” alluding to being naked in front of each other. It did make you a little nervous, and nerves equal tight muscles, which means pain.

“Why don’t you put a blanket over yourself? That way there’s less pressure,” he suggested, and you could have kissed him for it. You smiled, nodded, and grabbed a throw blanket from the chair. He turned around to face the wall while you took off your pants and settled under the blanket.

“Ok, I’m good.” you said. He turned back around, coming to kneel beside you on the bed.

“Do you want me to just… hold your hand? Or sit here and talk to you?”

“Would you want to sit behind me?” You suggested nervously, leaning forward slightly.

“Of course! Yeah, I can do that.” He took this seriously, and you appreciated that. This was a scenario you had thought about many times, and though you knew he wouldn’t be the type to ask you to have sex with him despite the pain, it was always a possibility. The fact that he didn’t take your pain lightly, and let you be in charge so you would be comfortable, meant more to you than he would ever know. Paul gently climbed behind you, putting his legs on either side of you, and hesitantly rubbing your shoulders. You leaned back into him, as if to say I’m okay with this.

“Can you hand me the… “ You nodded your head towards the nightstand, and Paul didn’t need to hear the rest of the sentence before he leaned over and grabbed the dilator and bottle of lube, holding them out in front of you both. You muttered a “thanks” as you took them from his hands, and brought them under the blanket. After slathering the dilator with a good amount of lube, you closed the bottle and tossed it towards the foot of the bed, leaning back and shifting your hips down. Paul clearly didn’t want to overstep his boundaries, so he was slow and careful as he wrapped his arms around your torso, giving you time to say stop. You didn’t, though. He felt your body tense slightly as you dragged the tip of the dilator around your entrance, so he started to rub his hands up and down your sides, kissing your cheek. You turned your head to look at him, and he met you with a sweet kiss. You guys pulled away slightly, before going back in as you began to push the dilator in further. He kissed you with love, tenderness, and care, so as not to hurt you or make you feel uncomfortable. It was clear that you had the reigns, and Paul would stop as soon as you gave the slightest indication that you were uncomfortable. The dilator was about half way in, and you felt a slight stinging sensation, but kissing Paul distracted you. You brought one hand up to cup the side of his face, pulling him back in.

Paul kept kissing you, waiting for your lips to part so he could brush his tongue against yours. This is normally where you would stop him, but he knew everything now. There was no expectation of more, and damn. Paul was a really good kisser. He sucked lightly at your lower lip, before nibbling it and letting it go, coming back in with his lips. The combination of Paul’s kisses, the slight heat they brought to your body, and the pressure of the tip of the dilator inside you had you shift your hips, and involuntarily let out a small moan. It was barely audible, but Paul and his super senses heard it. You pulled away and slapped a hand over your mouth, your face turning bright red. He chuckled deeply, the sound going straight to your body, and brought his hand up to pull your hand off your mouth. “Don’t you dare hide those sounds from me,” he teasingly whispered into your ear. You shivered, and Paul started to kiss your cheek, down your jaw, and onto your neck. He sucked on the soft skin, hands squeezing your waist and rubbing up and down. You wanted to try something. For the first time, dilating actually didn’t feel so obligatory, so mechanical and stiff. You pushed the dilator deeper in, just about a centimeter, but enough to give you that feeling you had moments ago. You let out a breathy sigh as you tilted your head to give Paul more room on your neck. He felt you shift your hips again, and brought one of his hands to rub circles on your lower stomach. Skin on skin. And it felt good.

You kept going like this for a few minutes, and Paul could feel your skin grow hotter by the second. Your back was arched, your neck covered in light red marks, and Paul had the intense desire to see you unravel. He brought his lips from your neck up to the side of your face, getting as close to eye contact as he could in this position, and said “Can I touch you?”

You knew what he meant. The thought of it made you nervous. No one had touched you without it hurting before. It was almost as if he read your mind when he followed with “I can just stay on the outside…” Oh. You could be down with that. You turned your head to him and nodded.

“Just try not to touch the dilator,” you said softly. You trusted Paul. He was already being so kind and patient with this, and you knew he would die before he would ever hurt you. The hand that had been rubbing circles on your stomach travelled lower. Lower. Lower. Until he could feel the slight stubble of a past shave, and then your soft, wet skin. You gasped as he touched your most sensitive parts, even more so because of how turned on you were. He gently made small, tight circles over your clit, your eyes rolling back in your head as you fell completely slack against him and let out a moan. A real moan, that Paul swore he would never forget. And he made you make that sound. It only spurred him on. He applied slightly more pressure, but not so much as to overwhelm you. And he knew that when girls were feeling good, the secret wasn’t faster or harder, but to keep doing exactly what you were doing. So that’s what he did, and it had you writhing. Your moans kept coming, and your legs had started to shake. However, because it felt so good, your muscles had started to clench around the dilator, and it was beginning to hurt.

You didn’t want to rain on the parade. It was going so well. But Paul being the attentive lover that he is, noticed you begin to tense up in a new way. He brought his hand back up to your stomach, concern racing through his brain, and asked “Are you okay? Does it hurt?”

“It’s kind of starting to. Not you, the dilator. I think I might take it out.” You stared down at his hand still touching your stomach. Such beautiful hands. You didn’t want it to end.

“Do you want to try a smaller one? Or do you want to stop?” He questioned.

“I really don’t want to stop,” you laughed. He breathed a laugh as well, and waited for your direction. You had a thought. Paul’s index finger was smaller than the dilator. Much smaller. If you just told him what to do and what not to do, that could feel really good. “Would you want to maybe… Nevermind.” You got nervous.

“Hey, hey. No. Don’t do that. Tell me what you want,” He brought a finger up to your chin and moved your face towards him. “Tell me. Whatever it is, Princess. It’s yours.” Your whole body shuddered at this. He’s never called you that before, and to say it did something to you would be an understatement.

You let out a breath, gathering courage, and said “Would you want to… use your finger?”

He stopped at this. “Like, put my finger inside you? That wouldn’t hurt?”

“I don’t think so. It’s smaller than this,” you said, bringing the dilator out and up. “And as long as I tell you what to do, it could be really good,” you said the last part shyly.

“Okay, Princess. I can do that. How do you want me to do it?”

“Try to do more… pressure, and less… friction? Like try not to go in and out so much, but you can move it around inside.” Your face was once again blushing intensely.

“Anything you want. You just have to promise that you’ll tell me if it even hurts a little.”

“I promise.” You said it confidently enough that Paul brought his hand back down under the blanket. He circled your clit a couple times, making you shiver and release a breathy sigh, before moving his middle finger even lower, circling your entrance. He gathered some of the lube that was there from the dilator, coating his finger, and you brought your hand down to hold it, guiding it inside you at a speed that was comfortable. It was smaller than the dilator, so he was in you in 15 seconds. He stopped, and gave you a minute to adjust. Your hips writhed again because of how turned on you were, so Paul brought his other hand down and began circling your clit again. Your head fell back on his shoulder as you began to moan again, hips moving even more now. Paul took this as his queue to press his middle finger up against your inner wall lightly, causing a loud moan to leave your mouth. You were too far gone to be embarrassed.

“There you go, baby,” he praised. God, this was the hottest thing he had ever seen. He was barely touching you, barely moving his finger inside you, and you were a mess. He had been rock hard since you guys started, but your ass was rubbing against him as you moved your hips, and he released a small growl at the feeling. This only turned you on more. He kept moving his finger in you the same way. Pressure, not friction. Pressure, not friction. He kept telling himself this. He wanted to finger bang you into oblivion, but the risk of hurting you was too high, so he kept up with rubbing the tip of his finger against that spot on your upper wall, in a “come-hither” motion. Your moans began to get higher in pitch, your body tensing even more.

“Relax your muscles for me, sweetheart,” he encouraged, and you did. Your release was approaching rapidly, and you wanted to grind against his hand, but you didn’t want to risk pain, so you trusted Paul to get you there. You were panting, hips shuddering, face scrunched, as your climax hit you like a wave. Your legs shook as you opened your mouth in a silent scream, and Paul carried you all the way through it. You came down, and lightly grabbed his wrists. He knew that that meant stop. So he slowly withdrew his finger, brought it up to his mouth, and sucked on it. Head still up in the clouds, you watched him, slack-jawed, as he popped his finger out and moaned. “So sweet,” he purred. Watching him suck on his finger like that made you think of something you’d like to suck on, and you looked down at Paul, still rock hard, and turned around in his lap.

“Let me return the favor,” you said with a smirk.

#twilight #paul lahote #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote smut #wolf pack #seth clearwater #embry call #quil ateara #sam uley #jacob black #jared cameron #robert pattinson #bella swan #edward cullen #vaginismus #dilating #paul lahote x reader smut #twilight smut

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marsbutterfly · 3 years

Note

Hey ! How are you ? Can I request an imagine for Hanji x f!reader where they both get reincarnated in modern time ? They both died side by side during the rubbling and when they get reincarnated they both have memories of their past life (they were already lovers). Reader thought she was never going to see her girlfriend again but one day she finds her by chance.

Take care and have a nice day !

Note: Thank you so much for requesting this. I had fun writing it and the prompt was *chefs kiss* so I really hope you like it.

In Another Life

Summary: Reincarnation is the doctrine or belief that the soul reappears after death in another and different bodily form.

Wattpad Version! | AO3 Version! |◁ II ▷|

Cold sweat drips down your face as you bolt awake, digging your nails into the bedsheets. The same nightmare has been waking you up in the middle of the night since you were a child.

In your dream, you are a soldier who battles to save humanity in the fight against titans. Somehow, you always manage to kill the gigantic beings and return safely to the world inside the walls.

Always by your side is a brown-haired woman with glasses, her left eye is missing in most of the dreams. In all honesty, you have never seen anyone so beautiful before and, somehow, you remember her name.

Hanji Zoe.

One day, you stood by her side as the world you’ve once known was being left behind, turned into dust. She held your face in her hands as tears streamed down her cheeks, the feeling of her lips against yours is vivid and you can even smell the apple she had earlier.

The scream of your comrades echoes through the plane and into your brain but all you can focus on is the image of Hanji’s body catching on fire as the same flames burn down your back.

She hits the ground seconds before you do and somehow you manage to land by her side, hand touching hand as her lifeless body begins to cool down. You don’t have much time to think before a titan’s massive foot squishes your bodies at the exact same time.

That’s usually when you wake up, when your lungs and heart explode inside your chest due to the pressure of the step. When every blood vessel in your body gives in to the pressure and bursts inside you.

You grab your phone, only to realize your alarm was about to go off anyway. So instead of trying to go back to sleep, you simply push the covers aside and begin to drag yourself to the bathroom in hopes of getting your day started.

Not every dream you have is a nightmare. Some of them are about a life you don’t remember living: The combination of joy and fear after joining the Survey Corps, the warmth of Hanji’s naked body against yours, the delicious smell of freshly made apple pie coming from the kitchen in the middle of the night.

At nights where you don’t dream about that life, you miss it. You miss being around your friends, being able to move around the trees as if you were flying, you miss her. Her deep, brown eyes are all you can think about and time slips away from you.

Once your morning routine is completed, you decide to go for a run in the park behind your house. Since the sun has been out for less than an hour, it shouldn’t be too busy and you’ll be able to enjoy some quiet time.

As the armband slides up your skin, a chilling sensation travels down your spine and nearly every particle of hair in your body rises, even though you can’t understand why. So you simply shake your head and push the feeling down.

Carefully, you select your favorite playlist and check to make sure your laces are tied but before you can actually look, your phone rings loudly in your ear nearly giving you a heart attack.

Without a second thought, you decline the call without even checking to see who it is and you make your way outside.

The cold breeze welcomes you and the sweet smell of the food cart in front of your house hits your nose. Usually after a run, you reward yourself with one of their delicious crepes and that is enough motivation for you to finish your jog.

At this time, the park is the most peaceful place in the city. No crying babies in their strollers or loud business men walking around on their phone, there is only you and maybe three more people.

Your favorite song comes on and you feel the energy pumping through your veins with every beat. It’s the perfect weather for a run and you silently enjoy the calm that washes over your body.

Your mind wanders back to your nightmares and you start to remember the better part of it. The times Hanji would take you to a secret picnic after she became commander or the makeout sessions in the janitors closet.

In some ways, you could even feel her warm skin against yours, her kiss-swollen lips attached to you by a string of saliva. It nearly feels as if you had lived throughout all of it, but it couldn’t be possible.

You’re so deep into your thoughts that you don’t notice the stick on the floor and, when you do, it’s too late and you’re already halfway towards the ground so all you can do is protect your face from the concrete.

The impact itself isn’t too painful but the humiliation is what stings the most. If only you hadn’t gotten that call before leaving your house, you would’ve remembered to tie your shoelaces and therefore they wouldn’t have gotten stuck on the stick on the floor.

This isn’t the first time the woman in your dreams has caused you trouble. In a few of your memories, she would make too much noise when you sneak out and the Commander would eventually catch you.

Ever since you were young and these dreams first started, you’ve been going to a therapist after the other in hopes of understanding what all of this means and why is it happening to you but all came to the same result: inconclusive.

No matter how many doctors you see, no one can understand why you have such vivid dreams about a war nobody has ever heard anything about or creatures that have never once been proven to exist.

With your ass on the ground, you notice you used the word “memories” instead of dreams and for a second you feel as if all air has been sucked out of your lungs by a massive vacuum.

You shake your head, pushing those feelings deep down inside of you and getting on your knee, preparing to tie your laces when a familiar perfume rushes by you.

It’s faint and quick, probably carried by the wind but enough for you to snap your head backwards. A comforting feeling settles in your chest, warm and fuzzy if you could describe it. That’s exactly how the woman from your dreams smelled like.

You notice a brunette in a bright yellow sports bra turning around a bush not too far away, but you can’t see if she’s wearing glasses or if she only has one eye, like Hanji did.

“Y/N don’t be ridiculous!” You say to yourself, standing up and brushing away the dirt from your clothes, “Hanji is not a real person, she’s like an imaginary friend.”

Forgetting all about your fall, you decide to resume your run. The pain in your foot forces you to go a bit slower than you are used to but nothing too serious.

Once you are done running your laps around the park and begin to make your way back home, a few drops of rain begin to fall on your skin, forcing you to rush home.

As you are eagerly awaiting for the crepe you’ve been dreaming about for hours, the owner of the small cart has a sad expression on his face.

“I’m fresh out of batter. My husband just went to grab some more, it should take a little longer than 45 minutes, I am so sorry Y/N.” He says and you sigh, a compassionate smile on your lips and you nod.

“You will save me the first one you make when he’s back right?” You ask and the man eagerly nods.

“Of course. With banana, strawberry and chocolate, right?”

And you laugh, knowing that the only reason why he knows your order so well is because his crepes have been your breakfast each morning since you first moved into this apartment.

Once you are done with the conversation, you rush up the stairs and immediately into the shower. With a washcloth you gently brush the dirt out of your bruised knee, quietly hissing as the burning sensation takes over.

Even though you know you aren’t supposed to do so, you pour hydrogen peroxide on top of the wound and a scream leaves your throat at every step of the way.

“Today really isn’t my day.” You say to yourself as you begin to wash your hair. A few specs of dirt fall to the ground and a prolonged sigh escapes your lips. Everything just seems to be going wrong: rain, no crepe, fell during a run, what’s next? Waiting in line at the coffee shop for over an hour?

As you stand in line, you realize you should have kept your mouth shut. Even though you ordered online, the amount of people surrounding the pick up area was beyond ridiculous and you were definitely getting late for work.

Once your turn finally comes, you thank silently in hopes that you will be able to actually make it in time. So with your chest out and happiness on your face, you loudly say over the many other voices, “Order for Y/N!”

The guy behind the counter looks confused as he checks every cup individually and you watch over him as he does so. He shoots you a sadden and a little annoyed look and you realize that the “Order” button never got pushed.

Your eyes fill with tears of frustration but you brush them away and take your phone out, repeating your online order to the barista on the register and they write it down perfectly.

Your eyes are glued to your phone’s screen while you wait for a message from your boss but the same comforting sensation you felt this morning is back again. Maybe it’s the smell of coffee that reminded you of the trips to Marley or the crowds of different people around, much like eldians and marleyans.

“I have to get this shit out of my brain.” You say, shaking your head and focusing on typing out a message to your friend, complaining and hoping that you won’t get fired today. You worked too hard to get this job and if they let you go over some 20 minute wait, you’ll raise hell on Earth.

“Order for Y/N?” A familiar voice says but you can’t identify from where.

So you walk to the counter, finally putting your phone away and counting the coffees. Your eyes land on the barista’s hand, who carries your regular order. You reach for it and in a split of a second, your hands touch.

The world around you seems to stop and so does your breathing. When you look at her, you realize she is the part of you that has been missing all along. She’s a real person and not a dream. You look at her nametag, just making sure you aren’t going insane and there it is. “Hanji Zoe”

In that minimal touch, you are bombarded by the emotions of a lifetime ago. The first day you met, the first titan experiment you had done together, the first kiss, the first time you’ve had to kill a titan because she would always get too damn close to being eaten alive.

But you are also reminded of the last meal you both ate, the last nose rub, the last time her lips touched yours, the last hand holding, the last breath you both took before you woke up where you are now.

And just like that, feelings you didn’t know were possible for you to have emerged from deep within your chest as if a box that has been sitting deep inside the closet has now just been opened. It even seems like the world has just gotten a bit more colorful.

Tears shine in your eyes as the coffee you just waited so long for hits the ground. With a smile on your face, you wrap your arms around her neck and pull her over the counter. It doesn’t take her more than a second to seal your lips together.

Her breath tastes like the hot chocolate she had earlier that day but it still manages to awaken butterflies that laid dormant in your stomach throughout your entire life. It’s not until your phone rings in your pocket that you are brought back to reality.

“I’m so late for work!” You smile at her and rush out of the store, the container with the other cups in your left hand.

“Wait!!” A voice screams from just outside the coffee shop and you immediately turn around to see Hanji, her hat in her hand as she comes closer to you. “I knew something was missing my entire life and….”

“And now I realize it was you.” You two say in perfect unison and she nods.

“Why don’t we start over? This time, without any titans around.” She asks and you smile.

“Hey, I’m Y/N.” You say, extending your hand.

“I’m Hanji Zoe and I would love to take you on a date sometime.” Hanji meets you in the middle, shaking your hand.

“I really have to go.” You say and a frown appears on her face, you have to fight the will to quit your job and start a nice, little life in the woods with her. Something you’ve always talked about but sadly never got to have.

“I’ll wait for you right here then.” She says, letting go of your hand slowly and you immediately touch the back of her head and bring her in for a long kiss while still managing to keep the cups in your hand still.

This time it was not a goodbye kiss. It was simply the second first kiss you’ve ever had with Hanji and hopefully, it will not be the last.

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ellana-ravenwood · 4 years

Text

“My fake boyfriend is a billionaire ?!” - Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Synopsis : After a few shitty weeks of everything going wrong, you somehow find yourself faking a relationship with the one and only Bruce Wayne.

That’s it. I did it. After 3 years posting stories on this platform, I finally succumb to one of the biggest fanfiction cliché of all time haha. The infamous fake boyfriend trope. And I really hope you will like it :

My masterlist : @ella-ravenwood-archives

__________________________________________________

The Gap Year of Disaster

Today, you were an utter mess, and you couldn’t care less.

You know, this kind of days where you wish you would just have stayed in bed ?

Where everything goes wrong and you just want to hide under your blanket and pretend you don't have any responsibilities ?

Well today…Today was most definitely this kind of day.

It was suppose to be your first day at an exciting new job and you were so psyched about it, that you hadn’t been able to sleep all night.

You finally fell into a deep slumber during the very early hours of the day, and…

Of course you woke up late ! You didn't have time to take a shower, or to do your make-up nicely or even to brush your hair. But worst of all you didn't have time to get coffee !

When you got out with your bike….it was pouring outside. Ah but of course, because when one thing goes wrong everything has to follow. Everything WILL go wrong. Murphy's law or some stupid things like that !

It's in those moments you wish you had a car ! Because when it rained in Gotham…It felt like Noah was ordered to built another ark !

So, sleep deprived, soaked, in a bad mood and looking like a mess, you managed, by some miracle, to arrive at your job on time.

Only to discover that this wasn’t at all what you were expecting. It was NOT what was promised to you, which was experience in an exciting workplace and a way to make the most of it.

Instead, it was a desk job where you ran errand for everyone. Amazing.

This was supposed to be your first try at “real life”, this was why you took that gap year from college.

“I want to find myself, find who I really am !” You told everyone around you, ignoring those who were negative and telling you you should finish your study first.

Now, as you were stuck in a tiny cubicle with an endless list of coffee orders you had to get for everyone else, you felt like maybe they were right, and that this wasn’t quite the way you were going to “find yourself”.

Then again, wasn’t it through hardship that this sort of things unlocked ? Wasn’t it with great determination and knowing how it was to struggle, that you were going to thrive ? That’s what they said in TED talks dedicated to “success”...

So far in your life, things had been rather normal. Not particularly easy, but not hard either. You grew up in a small town in New Jersey, no troubles on the horizon. You then moved to Gotham for college as you had a scholarship for Gotham’s University, and as you were about to start your third year you sort of questioned wether or not this was your path...

One of your favorite professor told you to maybe take a gap year. A few semesters off, to think things through. Taking advantage of it to do some soul searching and try to know what you really wanted and...It sounded wonderful !

That’s when you started to have job interviews in many different fields, and it took you three months to finally find something. Three very stressful months of wondering how long you could live off of your measly savings, and wether or not you’d have to move back in with your parents (anything but that !)...Not a very good start to that gap year for sure.

And when you landed what you thought was going to be a great job, things definitely were looking up ! Ah, but the fact that you were chosen while you had NO experience and such, should’ve been your first warning that this was too good to be true.

You were trying to stay positive though. Maybe it was only for the first day ? Maybe their coffee person was sick or something ? It’d get more interesting later ? Yes. Yes let’s keep a positive outlook on everything.

Except right now, as your entire morning was made of you walking up and down the building (the elevator was not working, but of course), to the coffee shop at the corner of the street, and bringing back orders for people, you didn’t feel in the mood to try and stay cheery.

And the worst in all that ? You didn't even get ONE cup for yourself…This “real life” thing was not starting very well.

And so here you were, during your lunch break, looking like a mess, bag under your eyes and still wet from the rain (your trips up and down the street for coffee runs not helping drying yourself off), your morale at its lowest..And…

"That'll be 3 dollars and 50 cents for the large latte with triple espresso shot, m'am."

Catastrophe.

Proof that things could ALWAYS get worst.

As you were looking through your bag, you couldn't find your wallet !

Did you leave it at home ?! Maybe.

People at your work gave you the money to buy them coffee (and not a single tips, bunch of cheapskates). And you didn’t notice you were missing that oh so essential part of your daily life...Your credit card. Or any type of money.

Damn it !

“Um, excuse me miss, that’s 3,50 please ?”

“Oh yes yes, um, you know what I just-”

“Here, miss, you dropped this.”

As you were about to explain that in fact, you didn’t need coffee (even if when you asked for it you might’ve mentioned it being a question of “life or death”), too embarrass to admit you didn’t have the money to buy it, a...very handsome man handed you a twenty dollars bill.

You were a hundred percent sure this wasn’t yours. You never carry lose cash like this. A quick look to his kind deep blue eyes, and soft smile, and you realize...

Oh. Great. A total (very handsome) stranger took pity of you.

You probably looked even worst than you felt. You were about to say this was a mistake, but before you could, he gave the bill to the barista, and left with a last smile to you, taking his own cup of coffee away with him.

Damn. You didn’t have time to say “thank you”. He vanished as fast as he appeared, disappearing in the crowd of the busy coffee shop.

“Here’s your change, m’am.”

“Ah you know what ? Keep it buddy. Thanks for the coffee.”

“Wow, thanks !”

You were pretty sure that barista never had such a big tip, and it oddly made you feel better, to make someone else’s day like that. Your grandma did always say that you found true joy from helping others...

Oh, yeah, ok, you just helped someone out, why was the universe so angry at you ?!

As you turned around and started to leave, almost at the exist of the shop, mood a little better after this nice encounter with a (again, handsome) stranger, and the barista, you see him.

Him. One of the reason you sort of decided to take a gap year.

Him.

Your ex-boyfriend, Eric, who cheated on you with your friend Monica. Needless to say, it wasn’t a good memory. And you hadn’t seen neither him nor her since you left college, especially not since you heard they actually got together.

Your FRIEND. With your BOYFRIEND. And it went on for a while, before you finally discovered it (that day was as shitty as today...).

Oh. And of course Eric wasn’t alone. She, was there too. The one you thought was your friend, and who stabbed you in the back like that. Both of them discarding you like a dirty old sock.

Great. Really. Awesome. This day was going from “bad” to “please kill me.”

“(Y/N) !”

He looks surprised to see you, although also a little pleased. And it makes you want to punch him in the face. You don’t care if it’s because he wished things ended another way, they both betrayed your truth and then never even tried to talk to you again afterward.

You’re not sure you would’ve forgave them, but at least, it would’ve shown they still cared about you in a way. Nobody chooses who they’re going to fall in love with (that, you’d soon discover for yourself). But she was your best friend. And he was with you for over a year.

She’s a little more awkward than him, and smiles, clearly embarrassed. You always knew she was a bit of a coward, if she wasn’t, she would’ve face you, right ?

And that’s when it happened. The decision that would forever change your life.

In this great moment filled with despair and awkwardness.

From the corner of your eyes, you saw that nice stranger who paid for your coffee. The handsome one. He didn’t leave the shop, but instead went to seat at a table that was a little further away than the rest of them.

His eyes were glued to his phone, and you thought : “Well, fuck it, all this can’t get any worst right ?”

You were sort of hoping that, since he had been nice with you once and offered you those twenty dollars without knowing you (although you were very aware it was probably just pity), maybe he could help again ?

Maybe it was the fatigue, the fact you were getting sadder and sadder, that you had a terrible day, and that you just saw two people you loved and who threw you away like you meant nothing (oh but not before being super fake to you, pretending they WEREN’T cheating behind your back)...maybe it was a combination of all of that, that made you act crazy.

But here you found yourself, sitting at that stranger’s table, and saying, as he looked up from his phone clearly surprised :

“How are you guys ? As you can see, I’m great.”

You don’t dare to look at the handsome stranger, and hope he’ll be too stunned to say anything, and you can make your ex-friend and ex-boyfriend feel embarrass enough they’ll leave quickly. But then Monica says something that makes your heart skip multiple beats :

“You...You know Bruce Wayne ?!”

You turn to the man who gracefully paid for your coffee, and your eyes go wide. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. How did you NOT recognize him ?! Of course. Chiseled face, beautiful blue eyes, a suit that was definitely worth your entire year’s salary, a very charming aura...

Your hazy mind full of “fuck this day” didn’t register that THE Bruce Wayne, was the one who helped you out. How did you miss that ? His face had been plastered everywhere in Gotham for the past year, since he came back to the city, in fact.

You hear yourself wish with all your might to be struck by lightning this instant, as the two assholes who hurt you so much are looking at you expectantly and are not about to live (of course, they just met celebrity BRUCE WAYNE !! Could someone be as unlucky as you were today ?!)

And that’s when you hear a chuckle, a beautiful deep chuckle, and finally turn to look at Bruce. He smiles at you, and takes your hand, saying :

“Honey, who are your friends ?”

Your brain go full “ERROR 404″, not quite able to grasp the fact that THE Bruce Wayne just ran with what you were trying to do. How ? How was this possible ? You initially went to sit with him in the hope that Eric and Monica would see you were totally ok and with a hot date, not quite sure still yet how you ever thought this was a good idea and...

It was turning out alright ?!

HOW ?!

“Oh um, I’m..Eric. And this is my gir...This is Monica.”

What a piece of shit. Not even brave enough to call her his “girlfriend” when he cheated on you with her for months and months. You glare at him, unable to stop this gut reaction.

And that’s something Bruce caught.

In fact, as soon as you sat down, avoiding looking at him and nervously looking at those two people, Bruce sort of knew you were in an uncomfortable situation. One that made you take an irrational decision.

And oh, he didn’t like the look Eric and Monica gave you. Like they felt superior as they caught you in a bad moment. Bruce hated, people who thought they were superior to others...

And you clearly seemed in distress and in need of help so...He ran with it.

Bruce had to pretend to be someone he wasn’t enough that it felt natural, to run along with what your hazy mind thought was a good idea.

“Nice to meet you, are you friends with-”

Damn it. He realized he didn’t know your name. Quick thinking saved him, and he managed to keep his tone even, as to hide his hesitation :

“My love ?”

His hand around yours felt warm and reassuring, and you still couldn’t believe that, not only a total stranger, but THE Bruce Wayne was helping you out like that. Especially after you had such a bad day.

Him calling you his “love” made your exes feel very awkward, and they shake their head “no”, suddenly pretending they’re very busy and have to meet up with someone. They leave the coffee shop, clearly stunned, whispering things to each others that you knew were probably : “how did she get a guy like him ?!”

You can’t help but glare at them some more...But then your hand feels cold again, and you realize Bruce let go off it. Well. Duh. Of course he would.

You turn to him, your feature softening, and say :

“Are you an angel ?”

Ah yes. Your defense mechanism. “Humor”.

He chuckles, and says :

“Well, I’m afraid not. My butler would think this is very funny. But thank you.”

Awkwardly, you rub your neck, your free hand nervously turning your cup of coffee clockwise in your palm. You don’t really know how to end this, what : “thanks for that” and leave ?

“Thanks for the coffee. And for um...Saving my ass, just there.”

He smiles, and wow hello white teeth and charming dimples ?!

“You’re very welcome. They looked like they were jerks.”

“Haha oh you have no idea.”

“Glad I could help.”

“Thanks again. Really. This means a lot, especially since we don’t know each others. Well, I know you. Everyone in Gotham does haha. And ok I’m going to leave now, my lunch break is almost over and I don’t want to make this even more awkward.”

You start to rise up, but he holds you back by catching your sleeve, and says :

“Actually miss…?”

“(Y/L/N). (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“Miss (Y/L/N), you are kind of saving my life right now.”

“…I am ?”

A flash blinds you. Not a lightning, a camera flash. You turn, just in time to see a guy hastily hiding a camera and running away.

“What the...”

“A paparazzi. Good timing, for once.”

“Huh ?”

You wish you had some witty come back, or would just know what to say. But you’re confused. And this has been a really weird day.

“I am sorry if this will seem forward, or like I helped you wanting something in exchange. But I promise I will make it worth your while if you just sit back down and listen to me for a few minutes.”

You sit back down. More because you’re unsure your leg can still support you in this moment, than because he asked you to. With a smile he continues :

“Thank you. So. Let me explain a little, and again, sorry if this is too forward. If you don’t want to help of course, I would understand. I’m about to ask you something rather odd, I guess. And I’ll clear things up with paparazzis. I also promise I did not help you with your “friends”-”

“They’re not my friends.”

“I figured that much. And I promise I didn’t help you with them and ran with whatever you were trying, just so I could ask you this.”

“Ask me what ?”

“Well, you see…it’s arranged marriage season.”

“What ?”

“Every year, every single rich family try to make me marry their single daughters. It’s a very tiring season, but I’ve never been able to avoid it…I thought about having a fake fiancee before but could never find the right person.”

What he says does not register with you. His clear proposal doesn’t hit your brain. And you just stare at him, waiting for him to keep going. But he doesn’t, and by the way he looks at you, you slowly starts to understand where he’s getting at.

You gasp, now pretty sure this is all a dream (or a nightmare) and say :

“And I’m the right person ?”

“Well, yes. You seem to be a...“normal” person.”

“…Thanks.”

“In that case it’s good. It’s very good. It means that if I’m dating you, a woman that has nothing to bring me, then it must be true love.”

“Wow, stop with the flatteries already mister Wayne, I can’t handle it…”

Ah, your slight wits are back. Good sign that you’re regaining your senses. Everything that happened in the last ten minutes still feel like a bad dream, but you’re back in reality now.

“No no no, I didn’t mean it in a demeaning way ! But it’s just, you’re not rich, and you’re not famous or have political ties. You’re just a regular person. So they won’t think I’m trying to trick them, even if I am, do you know what I mean ?”

“Gotcha. My broke ass person cannot bring you any value, so it must be love and not just an arranged thing they can break. Cool.”

There’s a slight silence. And you find it a little fun, to play a little bit with the famous Bruce Wayne. He seemed so confident and cocky on TV, you never thought you’d be able to make him look so guilty.

“I’m sorry if I offended you.”

He says, clearly meaning it. But you shake your head and smile at him (and oh why does he feel his heart tightening slightly at your smile ?), and reassure him instantly (you feel a little bad, actually, to mess with him while he did just really do a huge favor to you while he had no obligations to) :

“Haha, just messin’ around with ya Mster Wayne. I’m not bothered by it, it’s the truth. I’m really broke, and I don’t think you could find more “regular” than me right now. So, and because you really did save my ass from an extremely displeasing experience back there. And also because you allowed me to see those assholes’ face of surprise and “how did she manage that ?!”, tell me more about your plan, and let’s see if I can help you back.”

And so Bruce starts to explain to you how, every year, this beginning of Fall is the worst time ever, as it’s a moment where everyone seems to want to marry off their daughter. And of course, Bruce Wayne is a good “party”.

The plan was fairly simple. You’d fake a relationship with him, so he could avoid all of this, and in exchange...Well. You’d gain a lot in exchange.

This is how you started to really feel like you had fallen into a “romcom” by accident...You and Bruce, became an actual living trope.

************

“And then when the “marrying season” is done, you can break it off.”

“I ?”

“Well yes, I can assure you you’ll gain quite a rep if you break up with me haha.”

You raise an eyebrow, unsure you like that sort-of overly confident side of him. But you can see something behind his eyes, like a slight unsureness as he looks back at you, trying to see if you’ll agree or not.

“I don’t really need a “reputation”.”

Breaking up with THE Bruce Wayne himself. For sure people would talk about it a lot, and maybe it would help open some doors for you ? But you felt a little odd taking advantage of this like that.

Seeing that he hadn’t convinced you quite yet, he adds :

“Of course, I will pay you.”

What kind of Pretty Woman sort of nonsense was this ?! You were about to protest when he added, realizing how he sounded :

“I mean, you ARE doing me a great service. You ARE going to have to act, you know ? An...actual job ? And I will be honest with you, it won’t be easy, to find yourself in the public eye. I think it definitely justify a salary.”

Put that way, you had to admit that, well, yeah it sort of did. Especially since you knew how crazy tabloids were about Bruce Wayne. Becoming his “girlfriend” would definitely put you on the front lines.

“And it would truly help me tremendously.”

Your grandma always said it : “True joy comes out from helping others !” So. What if you benefit from it a little ? If it helps you financially, and you can get a little network out of it ? First rule of Alchemy (what a weeb) : “equivalent exchange” ! Plus, he did really help you with your coffee, but also with Eric and Monica so...

And hey, this gap year was meant to help you find what and who you wanted to be. Help you go through this little twenty-something crisis. And this ? Living a literal romantic comedy cliche by faking being someone’s girlfriend ? Well, it definitely felt like the kind of adventure that could help you figure things out.

With a smile, you finally nod and shake his hand, not knowing quite yet in which mess you actually put yourself into...

Briefing.

Like every “secret mission”, this one too needed a “briefing”.

A little meeting to put all the rules down, and the goals too.

And here you were, feeling very out of place in a huge conference room in the biggest and tallest building in Gotham : “Wayne Tower”.

The concierge stared at you for a very long time, when you said you were there to see Mister Wayne. No “nobody” like you ever called for his boss.

Suspicious, as it was his job, he called security on you...Until it was finally cleared up that you DID have a meeting with Bruce Wayne !

Both the concierge, and the security guys, stared at you as you left to take the elevators they indicated to you, wondering who the hell had the kind of credentials to go all the way up there to see their boss ?! They didn’t recognize you from anywhere, not a model, not a famous politician or CEO, just...A regular person ?

That was odd. And they noticed, it was odd. Which you assumed was what Bruce was aiming for, but it felt so awkward, to walk through this huge hall under their scrutiny.

You finally arrived on the right floor, and oh look, some more staring.

From his secretary, this time. She was used to see women coming to see her boss. But they’d usually wear Prada, and have plunging necklines full of pearls and fanciness. They weren’t...like you.

You felt like it was easy, to know that you were just a “normal” person. You were definitely not wearing any designer clothes, and you were pretty sure the way you carried yourself made you super obvious.

Hence all the staring. You could clearly see in her eyes, that she was wondering who the hell you were...

She had her answer when Bruce came out of his office, and made a gesture as if he was going to throw his arm around your waist, and kiss you (which made you downright panic). But then, he looked awkwardly at his secretary, and instead just shook your hand.

Something that DID NOT go unnoticed by his secretary.

You saw how her eyes widen, and how she clearly hitched to take her phone out and call everyone...and you realized Bruce did this awkward thing because he knew his secretary, and her tendency to be a little gossipy.

You’d discover later, in fact, that he hired her entirely because he knew if he said something, she would pick up on it and it would help him control rumors and such. Clever.

For the moment though, he took you to a large conference room with huge windows.

“I’m sorry for the weird “hello” back there, I wanted Shirley to think I was embarrassed to display affection to you in front of her. Usually, I do not mind at all. So doing it would make her think that-”

“I’m someone special to you.”

“Exactly !”

He smiles widely as you understood his plan (not sure how you felt about it, then again, that’s why you were here for, making sure you knew where both of you stood in all this), and then tells you he’ll be back in a few minutes.

You have time to feel anxious and stressed before he finally comes back.

“Sorry for the wait.”

“Oh no, I bet you’re a busy man.”

“Yes well. Anyway. Let’s get to it shall we ?”

“Yes.”

“Ok. So. I thought we’d settle sort of a little contract, so neither of us ever feel uncomfortable ?”

“Sounds good, mister Wayne.”

“Yes well first, please call me Bruce.”

“Only if you call me (Y/N).”

Oh and you two were still on the path of “romcom cliches”, with this conversation. He smiles, nods, and continues :

“Ok, then I thought we could-”

And so your fake relationship started, with some little ground rules. Like he could only kiss you after you gave him permission, if you ever felt overwhelmed everything would be called off, etc etc.

Most rules were in your favor, to be honest. And WOW the paycheck he was going to give you for this little farce...Hey, maybe this gap year was finally gonna get interesting ?

Meeting the Little Buddy.

It was sort of necessary. By then, Dick had been his son, officially, for a few months. He wasn’t calling him “dad” yet (and Bruce didn’t particularly want him to, at the time...ah but everything change one day, right ?), but they were already family.

And it was a needed step.

It wasn’t in the little “contract” you made, and honestly you could’ve refused to meet him but...Well, you liked kids. In another life, it felt like you could’ve been a teacher (A/N : AH, like in this story ;) : “Can you be my dad’s girlfriend, please ?” ).

And you’d feel awkward, to fake a relationship and not ever meet his boy.

The first time he saw you, it was at the Wayne Tower, and his eyes widened as he exclaimed :

“Wow you’re so pretty ! Are you Bruce’s girlfriend ? You’re too good for him, you know.”

You could feel your heart melt, how adorable this little guy was, right ? You chuckled, and almost full on laughed as you saw how vexed Bruce was by the comment.

Not that he thought he was too good for you, no, he was just a little unhappy his son was stealing the show, and thought he couldn’t land someone like you...Oh but that, you couldn’t guess at the time, of course.

“Nice to meet you, Dick. I’m (Y/N). And...I’m not really his girlfriend.”

“Can you be mine then ?”

You laugh again. You and Bruce had decided to tell him the truth, Bruce assuring you that kid was good at pretending too. You answer :

“No, I’m saving him from marriage proposal.”

“Oooooh !”

Good at pretending. Dick had no idea what you were on about, but he was very good at acting as if he knew.

It’s only way later, that he finally got it. By then, he already accepted you as : “his dad’s girlfriend”, and even knowing the truth, there was no way to change his mind. And to be honest, out of everyone, little Dick Grayson was probably the most aware of what the situation truly was.

He had a knack, to notice how people felt.

A “family” outing.

Two months in, and it was going GREAT. Faking a relationship was actually pretty easy. All you had to do was hanging out with him (and he was very nice to hang out with), and when a paparazzi was around, quickly kiss his cheek, or hold his hand, or let him put his hand in your hair...All those cute things new couples do.

Today was one such small date.

You could see Bruce was nervous, though.

After hanging around with him that many times, you started to know him a little better. Started to know he wasn’t really that persona he portrayed publicly.

He was actually quite a dork. What a pity, nobody else would ever know his real self...Yet, it made you happy you were one of the few in on the secret.

“Ok, out with it mister, what’s up ?”

He looks at you with such surprise in his eyes, as if it was the first time someone guessed what he was feeling...and, well, yes. It was. It was the first time someone who wasn’t Alfred got it. Someone realized something was on his mind. And asked him about it, didn't just ignore and move on. Actually cared to know.

“I-Um...”

“Well ? Come on, I think literally nothing can surprise me by now, given you know, I’m faking a relationship with a billionaire, and it’s like, my job now.”

He smiles, and he couldn't possibly know how soft his look was, as he gazed at you.

“I...well, people don’t quite believe in us because-”

“WHAT ?! With all the “dates” and kisses and lovey dovey shit we did ?!”

He chuckles at your reaction, loving how honest you always were, and adds :

“The problem apparently is that you weren’t seen with my son yet, so many don’t believe we’re serious.”

“Oh...”

You met Dick. Because it felt like a necessary step to yours and Bruce’s scheme. And you knew he knew this was all fake...But neither of you wanted to confuse the boy in any way so he was kept mostly out of the plan.

“I talked to him, and it’s actually really up to wether you’re comfortable with it or not. I know he wasn’t part of our contract, and I should’ve probably thought about it, I’m sorry. But um...If you’re ok with it, we could..Do things with him, too ?”

Bruce is really nervous; And you’re pretty sure no one but you (and maybe Alfred) ever saw him like that. It’s kind of...sweet. But you let the silence linger for too long and he hurries to say :

“You really don’t have to ! It’s ok if they don’t think we’re that serious and I get some proposals. I can manage ! You’re still a great help right now. It was just an idea. Dick is a very social kid, he would go along with anything and loves to do activities outside. He would be fine. But if you’re not then we can-”

“No. No no it’s...It’s ok Bruce. The few time I saw him, Dick did seem absolutely a peach to be around. And I always have fun with you, so sure, let’s organize a little something and show those bastards we’re totally real.”

You chuckle a little, your smile and carefree face making his heart skip a beat, for some reasons...Bruce also decided to ignore how happy it made him, to know you were always glad to be with him, and instead, he smiled and settled a date.

************

And here you were. In one of Gotham’s biggest park, opening a basket full of delicious sandwiches made by the one and only Alfred. Pretending to have a great family outing.

“Hey, hey look !”

Dick was absolutely amazing, at acting as if you were really a thing. As if you were really a “family”. Right now, he was doing flips and cartwheels, demanding your attention with avidity.

Bruce made sure to always hide his face from pictures (he was GREAT at noticing where paparazzis were hiding, a life of practice, you assumed), as he wanted to keep as much as he could his son’s privacy (especially after he made all the headlines when he lost his parents).

It was quite adorable. And...You were really having fun.

Dick was such a lively kid, and he was full of talents. The food was good, and it was so comfortable around Bruce. It felt so natural.

This wasn't all that bad. To fake being a family. A good use of your gap year, really.

You purposefully decided to ignore the glint in the boy’s eyes. The way you sort of suspected for him, this was getting real, and not only pretend.

You and Bruce purposefully ignored it, actually. And you both felt shitty for it. Because not only were you risking to break that little boy’s heart when it was all over but...It was too hard to accept that maybe, maybe he was right.

And that all of this ? Might’ve not been as fake as you’d love to repeat yourself.

First Official outing.

First gala. You were terrified. So far all you had to do was hang out with Bruce in the afternoon, there and there. It mainly consisted in him buying you coffee, and keeping the addiction to caffeine real, while talking about anything that would come to your mind. The conversations between you two was always fluid and pleasant.

Or you’d go out with him and Dick, to do some fun things like mini-golf or catching a movie. Nothing too big and scary. It was mainly just you guys, no one else.

It seemed like he knew where the paparazzis would be (most likely because he was “anonymously” tipping them off himself), and he’d take you on random short dates when he had time in between his work, slowly fueling the rumors Bruce was not a heart to steal anymore.

And that he was dating a “commoner” ! (He hated this name for you, while you really didn’t mind that much).

And this gala, was what made it completely official. Finally. It was your idea, to take things “slow”, and hang out with him and his son BEFORE hanging out in public areas like this.

It was clever, really. To make it seems like you were trying to “hide” your relationship by being low-key, to then finally announce everything in public like that, at such an event.

Bruce went to get a drink for the both of you, and you were looking around you, horrified at the mere idea that someone would come talk to you.

But for some reasons, nobody seemed to dare. Maybe Bruce made sure that people would leave you alone ? Even as if you were clearly the talk of the evening, all eyes on you, and not even trying to be subtle ?

You knew he did the same with little Dickie. That he made sure he was safe from the paparazzi and that no unsolicited journalist would come around him.

Thinking of it, where was the little one ? Usually, according to Bruce, whenever there was a gala he would spend his entire time near the food table, eating as much as he could, and he would come home feeling nauseous because of it...Haha sounded like Dick alright. That kid was so-

Oh oh.

Who was that sleazy looking gal talking to him ? He seemed so uncomfortable, yet too polite to brush her off...Oh no, she wasn’t one of them, was she ?

Without thinking twice about it, wether it was your place to do what you were about to do or not, you resolutely walked towards them.

“-Think it’s because he relates to you ? As both of you lost your parents in horrific situations, you know ?”

“I-I don’t know m’am.”

When you saw Dick’s distressed face, and his eyes slowly filling with tears, there was no doubt in your mind.

This woman was not supposed to be there, and was definitely not supposed to talk to that child...

This woman was a - shiver of disgust- tabloid journalist.

Your blood boiled as you saw her take a picture of the teary eyed Dickie, and you were standing protectively in front of him before you could even think about it. When you felt the boy clutch to your sleeve, hiding behind you and holding on for dear life, you knew you wouldn’t regret it.

“Can I ask you why you’re talking to that boy, please ?”

“What, it’s illegal to talk to fellow guests now ?”

“Lady, you’re well in your thirties. He’s eight. You have no right talking to him. Not only is it weird, but I know what you’re doing.”

“Oh, and pray tell, what am I doing, lovey ?”

“You’re trying to get a story out of him. And you should be ashamed of yourself. He’s eight ! And from what I heard, you were asking some very disgusting things back there !”

“I-”

“Shut up.”

Your words came out harsh and determined, and the woman was so shocked she stayed silent for a while. You crouch down to Dick’s level, and ask :

“Are you ok, my little buddy ?”

He nods weakly, and then burst into tears as he launches himself in your arms, clinging to you tightly. You turn your head towards the woman, glaring at her so fiercely she doesn’t dare to take a picture of the scene, even as she knows she could sell them for a golden price.

“You should be ashamed of yourself. He’s just a child !”

The woman was about to say something else, something you knew would fuel your anger further, when Bruce arrived, and it was clear from his face that he was not happy.

A quick look to you holding his crying son in your arms, and to the lady with the camera in her hands, and he understand what happened. With a cold voice you never heard him use before, he says :

“I suggest you leave the area now, before I force you to.”

There was something almost scary, in his demeanor. Almost like...No. Impossible. In any case, you didn’t worry about it much, drawing soothing circles with your hand on Dick’s back, trying to calm him.

People around quickly stopped staring as they met Bruce’s assassin glare. It was not secret, that he was very protective of his son. And of his new girlfriend, apparently.

You picked the little boy in your arms (Dick, at the time, was still so tiny), and Bruce comes closer, trying to soothe him too. And it really looked like all this was real...

Dick fell asleep in Bruce’s arms shortly after that, and was still there when it was time for the gala official pictures. Not wanting to wake him up, for once, Bruce allowed people to photograph the boy, as long as they did not frame his face.

He laid his free hand on the small of your back, and just like you got used to those past months, you pretend to be head over heels for him and have one of your own arm around his waist.

“Would you please allow me to kiss you on the cheek, for the cameras ?”

His question is so sweet, softly whispered in your ears. And you felt like a tease tonight, and maybe a little tipsy too. You tell him :

“On the cheek only ? Let’s give them a show no ? Let them forget about what happened with Dick.”

Of course, you’re only joking, but there’s a light in Bruce’s eyes you haven’t seen before and...It disappears quickly. He chuckles, of that low chuckles that would charm anyone in the world, and says :

“I don’t want to force you to do anything you wouldn’t want to. Actually kissing me, I realize, might be too much.”

You know he caught on your joke, but you can’t brush off that light in his eyes that ignited when you suggested to kiss him...You don’t know why, and it feels you’re not controlling your own words, as you hear yourself say :

“Oh because kissing you would be such a horrible thing wouldn’t it ? Oh my, you’re only one of the handsomest man in Gotham, a rather attractive fella, how could I handle kissing you ? So disgusting !”

Your tone is teasing, and a little bit challenging. He catches on that, too. He answers :

“But I am merely here to serve. I will do as you wish. You only have to say the words.”

His smile fills your vision. His face. And the way he softly holds your waist, even as his other arms is carrying his son (the man was BUILT). And you think...Well, fuck it ! It was time for the first (fake) kiss, right ?

Right here, in front of the cameras, where everyone was seeing you. Making it go full circle. Making it “official”.

“Kiss me then, if you dare.”

You simply say. Releasing a breath you were unaware you were keeping in. And he feels his heart squeeze, and as if he’s sweating a bit. When was the last time he was nervous about kissing a woman ?

He couldn’t remember.

And then he kisses you, the flashes of cameras slowly fading away as his lips melt onto yours.

Wow. What a perfect, and nice, first kiss.

As fake as it might be.

Your room.

Your room at Wayne Manor was bigger than your entire apartment.

You and Bruce decided that sometimes, so you wouldn’t raise any suspicion, you’d sleep at the Manor. Paparazzi were so on top of everything, it would seem weird if he was in a “committed relationship” and you never slept at his place.

So Alfred settled a room for you.

Oh. Alfred ! You met him not long ago, and he was the best !

It felt like he could magically guess what you wanted when you wanted it, and magically appeared with that warm cup of tea you craved, or that meal you’ve been thinking about all day.

But beyond that, he was genuinely nice and made sure to make you as comfortable as possible. He showed you around, and his conversation was so pleasant !

You could actually see a lot of Bruce in him. Or, rather, it was evident that Alfred had raised Bruce most of his life, because they had a lot of similar mannerism, and were both kind and caring (Ah, imagine if Superman knew what you thought of Bruce, how crazy it’d sound to him eh ? But of course, that you’d discover way WAY later).

You never went to explore much when it was time to go to bed, too afraid to get lost. This place was huge, and you never quite had a good sense of orientation.

One could only wonder, what would you have discovered if you ever dared to wake up during the night, and explore his home ?

Build a Bear.

Sometimes, Bruce really had to wrack his brain for original date ideas. Ever since he came back to Gotham, his dating days consist of pretending to sleep with every model in the World.

He’d take them to fashion shows, to galas, to charity events...All very public places, unsuitable for a “serious” relationship like he was hoping to make yours and his pass for.

Enter : Clever little Dickiebird, who always had an idea (and who might’ve been the best wingman someone like the Batman needed...that, of course, he’d discover it way, WAY later) :

“You can take her to a build a bear !”

“Build...a bear ?”

“Yeah, you know. You go and you make your own teddy bear !”

“I do know, I took you to get Chester - the name of Dick’s favorite plushie toy now, and maybe with which he slept-. But...For a date ?”

“What ? It’s cute and intimate !”

“Huh ?”

It has been a long time, since Alfred Pennyworth had to hold his laughter in that hard, and try to stay impeccably neutral. And there, faced with his master Bruce, who was known as the “ultimate womanizer”, the “perfect playboy”, and who was currently taking advice from his eight years old son...It was really hard to keep a straight face.

It was also incredibly adorable. Especially how Bruce seemed to genuinely listen to the little one, unaware that he seemed actually way too interested for things just to be for his “fake relationship” to be more convincing.

Not that Alfred was going to tell Bruce anything.

“Dick, you know (Y/N) isn’t really my girlfriend, right ?”

The way the boy talked about taking you to a date, felt to Bruce like he was forgetting this was all fake. And it was important to remind him.

But Dick had to invoke all the efforts in the world to not roll his eyes as to say : “sure she isn’t”, by now, it was oh so obvious to everyone but you and Bruce that there was a very real thing forming between you two.

Instead, he said :

“But you’re suppose to make the public really believe it right ? If you take her to build a bear, I can assure you they will think you guys are the real deal.”

Bruce pondered this for a little bit, and realized that his son was right. It did seem like a cute and intimate date to bring your girl to, even if she was your fake girl...

Ah. Bruce forgot his own words. “Dick is great at pretending.” He is. He really is. Just like right now, he was pretending his idea was completely innocent, while he knew it would bring you two ever so closer.

That whenever you’d see those bears you were going to build in your home, you’d think of one another. And remember fondly of the memory.

And oh. Oh that boy was right.

Your bear was sitting proudly on your couch, and every time you saw it, you remembered how clumsy Bruce had been, filling his own bear up. And how cute he was, carefully thinking of his options.

And every time Bruce saw his own bear, that Alfred, for some reason, settled in the Batcave on the “trophy shelves” (and for some reason Bruce didn’t take it off of it...), he couldn’t help but think how he had genuine fun that day.

Genuine fun, for the first time in what felt like ages. And how your smiling and giggling face didn’t seem to leave his mind, whenever he saw that bear...

Conniving traitors.

“We both agree, he’s in love with her right ? He’s just too dense to realize it.”

“Oh yes, young Master Richard, he definitely is. And he is dense, at times.”

“Should we do anything ?”

“No more than what you’re already doing.”

“Which is ?”

“Which is continuing to push them in the...Right direction.”

“Oh ! I get it ! I’ll keep going Al’!”

“And I’m sure you’ll make miracles, young master.”

Dick’s smile to the old butler was so pure and happy, that Alfred had a hard time keeping his composure once again.

And oh. Oh how he wish they were right, and that his Master Bruce would FINALLY allow himself to be happy...

Rumors and Truth

Bruce was just a tiny bit older than you. 24, according to his wikipedia page.

And you couldn't help but be a little jealous, as you were looking at the page to re-enroll yourself in Gotham’s university, knowing he was done with college.

Then again, he was obviously a genius and would’ve been done faster than you anyway, even if you were the same age, since he finished his PhD just the year before, while most people don't even START their doctorate until they're around 23/24.

Mmmm. Made you think. Was this just yet another rumors about the man ?

Maybe not, after all it was proven he started college at age 14, and in Ivy Leagues ones, all across the world.

From Cambridge, to Oxford, without forgetting La Sorbonne (A/N : by the way, this is canon haha, Bruce really did start college that early and went to many different places, and honestly, is anyone surprised ?).

This wasn't really something you absolutely couldn't believe, compared to other crazy rumors about him. And you knew he WAS smart.

By then, you couldn't count how many things were circulating about him, and how hard it was to know the truth from just plain old rumors.

He had over a thousand lovers, he had MORE than one PhD (impossible, right ?), he had died once but survived somehow, he was part of a cult, he often lost his status as a billionaire because he gave so much money to charities and such, but his companies meddled in so many areas that his bank account was always filled more and more…

Honestly that last part didn't really surprise you. You saw him gave his money away to things he cared about (like education and medical care) without a second thoughts, so the fact he constantly oscillated between "billionaire" and "multi-millionaire" didn't really surprise you, not when you knew him like you did now.

You totally trusted the rumors that said that by now, he gave away more than he currently owned. It sounded like him alright…But how to know the truth from the downright crazy ? Did he really have a PhD or was this just an addition to how special and different Bruce Wayne was in Gotham ? What kind of PhD did he have anyway ? 1000 lovers, really ?!

So many questions. And not a lot of answers. Even if you grew closer (as friends, of course), Bruce was still somewhat of a mystery to you.

He never really tried to dismiss rumors, even the bad ones (unless they touched his son). Which made you wonder if they were true or not. And you really, really, for some reasons, wanted to know more about him...

“Is something the matter ?”

He asks. Oh goddamn you, day dreaming on one of your regular “coffee date”.

You shake your head, sipping on your drink and say :

“Was just thinking about...Tabloids.”

“Ah.”

He frowns. For understandable reasons.

“I was just thinking about wether some rumors were true or not.”

“What do you think is not true ?”

“I don’t really know, and you never really say a rumor is false so it’s hard to know.”

“Do you want to know anything in particular ?”

Bruce knows it’s dangerous, to let you enter his private life like that. There’s a reason, after all, why he never dismisses any rumors.

It helped build his fake persona, and take away any suspicions that he might be the infamous Batman.

But he felt weak, around you. As if he just wanted to please you, no matter what. Sometimes, he felt dangerously close to just tell you : “ask me anything and I’ll tell you the truth”, even if it meant revealing his night activities...

Crazy, right ?

He knew it was. And that he shouldn’t let it happen. Yet here he was, asking if you wanted to know something. Craving your attention. It felt so unlike him. But...You seemed to unlock a certain part of him.

The one that didn’t die with his parents, and remained hidden. The one that was the old little Bruce, full of hope, honesty and happiness. Full of wish for the future...Even if he knew there was none.

“How was college, for you ?”

You hear yourself asking, really wondering if it was true he was 14 when he started, and if it was...How different you guys were, right ? You were 21 right now, and taking a gap year after two years of college...When he was your age, he had already finished a master (or even maybe two).

"My college years were actually pretty boring, and unlike some rumors say, weren't particularly wild. I was really young."

"Ah, I heard the rumors."

"Those are true, I'm afraid haha."

"Afraid ? You're a genius !"

Which is why you found, more and more, his "himbo" persona to be odd. WHat was Bruce Wayne trying to hide ? Mmm…

Bruce recognized that look in your eyes. The look of someone who was onto something, and it was too frightening to let it happen. So he said :

"Yes well, I feel I missed a lot, during those years. Which is why I make it up now hahaha !"

His boisterous laughter seemed genuine, and totally fooled you. You couldn't always be on top of everything eh ? And this, did answer your question about his himbo persona…Oh, Bruce was good.

And he knew it. He trained for years, to make sure nobody would ever even suspect him to be Batman.

But he had to be careful with you. He knew it. It was obvious. You weren't that easy to fool…

The Day Batman saved you.

The fact he had to be careful with you was confirmed not long after. When, as Batman, he came to your rescue.

He should’ve known, that even with a voice changer, and a mask covering most his face, plus a demeanor that was completely different from his usual one, you’d still get suspicious...He should’ve known because he, by then, knew you quite well.

But, what ? Was he suppose to just let you get mugged ?

He couldn’t.

Even if in the grand scheme of things, it would’ve been better, and he would definitely intervene if it got too rough...He couldn’t.

He couldn’t bear the thought of you getting hurt, or feeling distressed.

He knew this was stupid. That he shouldn’t get so attached. That muggings weren’t really his area of expertise, that to stop them, he had to hit the big bosses. He knew. Small thugs weren’t his target. He had a much bigger vision. And rationally, he should be somewhere else right now.

Yet he couldn’t resolve himself to. Because, and that was a dangerous thought and feeling, he was in l-

“Why are we spying on your girlfriend ?”

Dick’s voice takes him out of his reveries, good. It WAS getting dangerous. Still keeping you in his field of vision (you were slowly going back to your apartment, a few minutes still, and he could leave to do other things knowing you were safe and sound in your home), he answered :

“We’re not spying on her, we’re making sure she’s safe. And she’s not my girlfriend, you know that.”

“Oh yeah ? We’ve been following your “totally not girlfriend” since the night started, awfully looks to me like we’re um, you know, stalking her.”

“We’re not.”

“Suuuuuuuuuure.”

Bruce gives an annoyed look to his son, who had way too big a smug face right now, and says :

“The night is calm, if something comes up we’ll go. But right now, it’s alright. And it has been made official, that she and I are a couple.”

“Fake couple.”

“Fake one to us, not to the public eye.”

“Ooooooh !”

Connections were quickly made in the boy’s head, and he understood why they were following her. After all, this was Gotham. And if THE Bruce Wayne had ONE known lover...Well, it was easy to know it’d attract some nasty business.

Dick was about to make a smug remark of which he had a talent for, when it happened. He pointed at you, fear in his eyes, and Bruce focused your way again.

“Stay here.”

“What why ?! I wanna help her too !”

“Because she’s too smart not to put two and two if she sees you with me. She knows us in our day lives. She’ll recognize us for sure, if we’re together.”

“Oh...”

“Just stay still, ok ?”

“Ok.”

Without a second thought, Bruce jumped down in the street down below, under Dick’s worried eyes. If anything happened to you, he knew his dad would never be the same again.

And he knew he couldn’t bear to lose yet another person he cared about. Even loved. Yes. Yes Dick loved you, as if you really were part of his family...

The months of “faking” family outings made it so. Your worst fear happened. Dick was getting attached, hardcore. And he really hoped you and Bruce would figure out you were actually in love with each others before the end of your “contract”, and before his sometimes very dense dad would decide to let you go...

For now though, he was anxiously looking at Bruce making his way to you, after he spotted a suspicious group of men genuinely stalking you.

************

“Hey pretty girl, can we talk ?”

You stop in your track, turning around, cursing yourself for not having the instinct to just take off running. Oh. But you can see at least one of them has a gun. You can’t run faster than a bullet...

“Ah it is you, isn’t it ?”

You don’t answer, knowing what they mean. Bruce sort of warned you against this. But you didn't take his warnings seriously, and here you were, going home at night, something he definitely told you not to do.

You just couldn’t sleep that night, and needed a walk...And here you were.

“You’re gonna come nicely with us, right ?”

“I dont’ think so.”

Uh ? You’re pretty sure that weird robotic voice wasn’t yours. Even if that’s exactly what you wanted to say. And that’s...oh wow.

That’s when you see him. Batman.

Immediately, the atmosphere grow even tenser. And you can see the thugs who wanted to take you with them fearfully looking at him.

“This has nothing to do with you Batman, leave us alone, we didn’t do anything wrong !”

“It has everything to do with me. Leave.”

“We have to-You don’t understand. We have to take her to-”

“Nowhere. Leave.”

Even if he was protecting you, you had to admit that, that dude was frightening. He had his back to you, and even then, he looked so intimidating and tall and broad...

Bruce was tall and broad too. But he was soft and sweet, not scary at all.

“OH MY GOD LOOK OUT !!”

One of the thug had a gun pointed at Batman. Right at his head. He didn’t have the time to enforce his helmet yet, and if he shot around his mouth, he was done for...

A rock coming out of nowhere hit the thug right in the face.

Coming out of nowhere ? To you, maybe. But Bruce knew that this was little Dickie’s doing. “Robin always has Batman’s back”, he said often...

For the time being, the one taking his gun out being knocked out triggered a “fight or flight” reaction in the others, and as two took off running (and were mysteriously hit by rocks too, knocking them out), three decided to attack Batman.

Bad move.

Very bad move.

In a matter of second, it was over.

He turns to you, and it’s hard to discern any emotions with his lighted eyes and mask. He asks :

“Are you alright, (Y/N) ?”

“How-How do you know my name ?”

“Well, you’re Bruce Wayne’s girlfriend, right ?”

There was no hesitation in Bruce’s voice as, as soon as he pronounced your name, he knew he messed up...but he trained himself to think quickly. And this “fake” relationship was a perfect excuse, of course. Everyone in Gotham knew about you two, by now.

“Oh, right, ok.”

You seemed a bit disappointed, and Bruce couldn’t quite understand why...

It only hits him later, as he was going to bed, why you looked like that. And it made hi heart beat widely. Because he was pretty sure that it was because you sort of hoped Bruce talked to “Batman about you...Oh...Oh this was getting dangerous.

But of course, Bruce had a reputation to be the one funding Batman’s gadget (a really good cover for the fact he was actually Batman). So they’d know each others...

But right there and then, as he just saved you, you felt so stupid, hoping that Bruce would’ve talked to you to Batman. Why would he ? How the hell would your name even show up in a conversation between Bruce Wayne and Batman (but oh, if you knew you occupied his thoughts many times, and who he really was, maybe you’d feel less bad ? It was, in a way, Bruce talking about you to Batman, right ?).

You smiled weakly and shyly at this impressive being in front of you, and thanked him one more time. He nods, smiling too (oh ?), and bid you farewell.

Ah. But Bruce didn’t notice your eyes go wide, as he took off with his grappling hook, and you caught the side of his face in a certain light...

Fake ?

"You know, he smiles more when you’re around.”

Dick tells you once, you look at him curiously, as he continues :

“And before you say it’s “all pretend”, let me tell you there’s a difference between this smile and the fake one. Look, that’s how he pretend.”

On that note, he looked at you and smiled widely, exaggeratedly, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. And it was so like how Bruce portrayed himself in public, that it made you chuckle.

It also scared you a little.

Not because there was a possibility Bruce did smile more around you, but because as that little boy was being silly, and now imitating his adopted father further and oh so perfectly...You felt a surge of love for him.

And that wasn’t good.

Because the day, which was coming soon now, you’d have to “dump” Bruce Wayne, you wouldn’t be able to see that little one again...why would you ?

It’d be too weird, right ? Someone like you, once “broken up”, would have no reasons or ways to ever interact with billionaire Bruce Wayne or his son ever again.

That little boy was the sweetest child you ever met. He suffered a great loss so early in his life, and there he was, making you laugh and being nice by saying you made his dad genuinely smile.

It hurt, to know that one day, you wouldn’t see him again. That he’d grow up, and you wouldn’t know what he became.

You were sure he was destined to become a great man, and you wished you could see it...No. No this was bad. This was so bad.

“I mean it you know.”

His little voice brings your attention back to him.

“I think you make him happy. With you, it feels he can be himself. He laughs more, really laughs. And it’s often that he tells me “oh this makes me think of (Y/N)” and calls you. He doesn’t need to call you for the fake relationship thing, right ? Yet he does. That means something. I think he likes you.”

You shake your head, smiling at this little boy’s wild imagination. No way. No way was THE Bruce Wayne falling for you in any way. Were you guys becoming real friends ? Sure. But it definitely stopped there. Right ?

Oh but if only you knew Dick had a knack to see this kind of things, and to guess people’s real feelings. If only you knew, that yes, Bruce was starting to fall for you...It would make the next episode way less painful for you.

“Catch me dead before you catch me catching feelings” - You to yourself, a few days before starting a fake relationship with THE Bruce Wayne.

“Fuck you” - You to yourself, almost six months in faking a relationship with Bruce Wayne.

This was...bad.

Soon enough, you and Bruce will break this entire deal off, you will “dump” him, and you’d go on your separate ways. And...

This was bad.

Why ? WHY COULDN’T YOU JUST HANG OUT WITH THIS AMAZING CHARMING MAN AND THAT’S IT ? Why ? WHY DID YOU HAVE TO GET OUT THERE AND CATCH....

Catch...

Catch those body shivering “feelings”.

Not just for Bruce though. But for the little buddy too.

You felt yourself fall for Bruce slowly, and as if it was completely out of your control. But you also felt like if Dick wasn't in your life anymore...You wouldn’t feel whole again. Like he was sort of your son, too, by then.

This was so bad. How did you get yourself in this mess ? What was that FIRST rule you gave yourself when all this started ?

Right, “Catch me dead before I catch feelings”. Damn it.

Thanks GOD the “marrying season” was finally coming to an end. Both you and Bruce settled you’d wait a few weeks after it to make your break-up official, so nobody would be tempted to cancel any wedding plans to try and force their daughter onto him.

And it couldn’t happen soon enough.

Being around him now, faking being in love, was torture to you.

Kissing him knowing he felt nothing. Holding his hand in public while you knew in your heart he was just putting a show still. And hanging out with him feeling that you had absolutely no chance of this ever evolving...

It hurt.

It hurt so bad.

And you were slowly hoping you never agreed to being his fake girlfriend. Being a living cliche, the money and the fame were REALLY not worth the heartache.

So not worth it...

The end...?

"Well mister Wayne, it has truly been a pleasure to be your "girlfriend" haha. Seriously, I had a lot of fun, and a little revenge on life. You know, I saw Eric and Monica not long ago. They tried to become my friends again, knowing I was with you. It was great, to ignore them like they ignored them. You’re right, they’re really not worth it. And honestly I still don’t think we’re even after they hurt me like they did but...In the end, they looked so outraged. Win-win, really. Thank you very much."

"Thank YOU, for playing along and doing more than you bargained for. You really saved me a lot of hassle and…I had fun, too."

Your taxi was pulling in front of the Manor, and honked as he parked. Clearly, not a very patient driver.

"Well, see you around, Bruce ! If you're not too busy, you know…I kinda consider you a friend by now ?"

"Me, too."

Bruce lied. A "friend" ? No, it couldn't cover and explain all his feelings for you. A "friend". How ridiculous.

As you walked away, giving him a last smile, Bruce felt a pang in his chest.

A painful and yet happy one. A longing one. One that told him that "friend" wasn't what he wanted to be…Not anymore…

But was there really a future for you and him ? Probably not. His nightly activities would get in the way. You deserve more than the life he could give you. Being his "fake" girlfriend, you only took part in his public matters. Part in a fake world full of nice things, that was far from his actual life.

"Friend", he wished he could be more to you than this.

But he knew.

He knew that for your own good, he had to stay away. And oh, oh how he wished he could be more than just your "friend" or "fake" boyfriend.

Yet he watched as you walked away. Without doing anything.

He watched you leave, and felt the hole in his heart expand a little more. But didn’t try to catch you, or stop you from leaving.

And your taxi was already far, now. On its way to Gotham.

"So you gonna run after her oooor…??"

Dick's little voice takes him out of his reveries.

“Mmm ?”

“(Y/N). Are you gonna run after her, or stand there looking like a sad puppy for the rest of your life ?”

“I do not look like a sad puppy.”

“Yes you do, and you know it. Come on dad, why are you doing this ?”

This was the first time Dick called him dad. Which didn’t go unnoticed to Bruce. It meant...It meant something was definitely happening. He felt it in his heart. Something that was dangerous. Oh so dangerous.

Hope. Like the “old Bruce” had. Hope. Full of it. Before his parents were murdered in front of him, for no reasons. Meaningless.

Hope.

To have a family again. Ah. But...Being with you was impossible. And Dick would be enough. He would. He was already enough...

“How long are ya gonna torture yourself exactly ?”

That boy was too smart for his own good. Bruce said :

“I’m not. I just...I can’t be with her.”

“I cAn’T bE wITh hEr !! ...Why ?!”

“You saw what happened, when it was made official we were together. She almost died.”

“And you saved her. Your point being ?”

“Dick...”

“Don’t -he takes a mock Bruce voice- “Dick” me mister ! You’re afraid to be happy, and I won’t have it. You gave me another chance to have a family. A dad. And I’m not about to let my dad punish himself for feeling good. You told me yourself my parents would like for me to be happy. Well yours would too, you big idiot ! So now, you listen to me.”

Dick, meaning business, jumps on the stairs’ bannister to sort of be on eye level with Bruce, and says, pointing his finger at him :

“You take one of those fancy useless sport car, and you run after her. Capish ?”

There’s a moment of silence. During which Bruce is unsure of what to do. And then...Then he smiles at his son.

His son.

“Capish”, he simply says, and he rushes towards the garage’s entrance, under Dick’s happy look.

Success.

Bruce’s car was leaving the estate, when Alfred joined Dick at the front door.

“You did it, Master Richard.”

“I hope I did !”

“Oh you did. You did. Thank you. Thank you for taking care of my son...”

Dick turned to Alfred, who couldn’t keep a straight face this time. Small tears gathered in the old man’s eyes, and sweet little Dick did not hesitate one second before jumping into his arms and giving him one of his famous “Grayson special” hug.

It’s real.

Back to square one.

You. A bad day. Looking like a mess (this time not because of the rain, but because you cried a lot). Your gap year almost over and still not knowing who you were. With no coffee, but at least, you had a tub of ice cream.

You already missed Bruce. And Dick. And Alfred.

You couldn’t believe those six months of “faking” would end up meaning so much to you, and feel so devastating as they ended.

You wish you had never met Bruce. And that you’d been ridiculed by Eric and Monica, that your life would still be pathetic...Pathetic maybe, but at least, your heart wasn’t completely shattered.

You don’t hear the hurried knocks on your door, at first. Entranced by your own sadness. It’s only when they become loud and insistant you react.

You really hope it’s not a journalist. They sort of tried to talk to you so many times, since you “dumped” Bruce...You knew he made sure that they’d stay away, but some were particularly persistent.

Including that awful woman from the charity, who was asking Dick those horrible questions. “Vicky Vale”, was her name, apparently. What a witch.

Clearly, the knocking wasn’t gonna go away, so you stood up, settled your tub of ice cream on your coffee table, and went to the door, ready to fight if need be.

But there was no need for fights.

At least, not in the literal sense of the term.

“Bruce ?”

He seems out of breath. Incredible, given how in shape he was. He doesn’t really leave you any time to say anything else, as he blurts out :

“I was wrong.”

He blurts out out of nowhere, and you’re even more confused. Before you could ask what was all this about, he adds :

“I was wrong. When I said you were the right person because you were “normal”. You’re everything, BUT “just a regular person”. You’re the most fantastic woman I’ve ever met. You decided to help a total stranger just because. I know I helped you before, but it doesn’t compare to what you did for me. Especially on a matter that seems so silly to me now. You put yourself in a very awkward position for someone you didn’t even know. In front of the public, for a guy like me. You knew I was a “playboy”, and that I could very well use you. Yet you still put up with it. You accepted my son, even as you didn’t have to. Even as, just like me, you are so young. You were nice to Dick, even if all you needed to do was pretend. You’re...You’re...You’re just something else entirely. It feels like you know me, the real me. Like you can read my very soul. Like you’re the only one for me. I’ve known for a long time. I ignored it because I was afraid of what that meant but...but a certain little one made me realize this was time. It’s time to move on. It’s time to allow myself to be happy. And so, here I am.”

Was this...it ? The point of your gap year ? To discover that finding yourself...Meant finding your soulmate ?

It sounded silly. While at the same time, not. Because you felt it. You felt it deep within you. From the moment Bruce handed you that twenty dollars bill, fate was in motion.

You meeting Eric and Monica wasn’t bad luck. It was the opposite. It was the Universe’s push towards your real Destiny.

Towards Bruce.

“You’re not saying anything. Is this bad ? Or does it mean I blew your mind away ? I’m clearly hoping for the latter...”

Over the months, you discovered how huge of a dork Bruce Wayne could be. Even as if there was often a darkness right behind his smiles. Deep within his eyes. You discovered he wasn’t always this cocky arrogant man he portrayed himself to be while in public. How he was actually pretty funny and oh so empathetic. How...How so many things, the list seemed endless in your mind.

And it only added to everything, that he looked so unsure. And so you smile. You just smile at him. And everything you feel is in that smile.

You don’t even realize you’re holding each others now, and that you’re kissing...

It’s not pretend this time.

A real first kiss.

Though maybe all your kisses until now weren’t as fake as you pretended them to be.

In any case, this, right now, is a real kiss alright.

A real one.

Full of all the pent up emotions. Free of all the fear and hurt you both felt as you realized you were in love with the other one, yet you thought things were all “fake”.

Because it wasn't fake. It wasn’t.

“I love you.”

You don’t know who said it first. You, or him. You felt so in sync, that it didn’t matter. What is sure, is that you both said it. Before you closed the door to your apartment, leading him in.

Before you spend the night in each other’s arms.

Bruce not even thinking about going out as Batman..

For the first time in years, he decided to fully embrace being happy.

“You always told me my parents would wish for me to be happy, well yours too !” Dick said. And oh, he was so right.

By the way, I’m Batman. Surprise.

“It’s not like I didn’t know, you know.”

“Huh ?”

Oh. Oh the delight to see that surprised expression on Bruce’s face. It was quite a rare one, really. And as he finally gathered the courage to tell you who he really was, risking losing you in the process but wanting to show you his full self...

It was particularly delightful.

“Busted you on that night you saved me. As if I wasn’t going to recognized that jawline.”

“Wait, really ? I really thought you bought my lies !”

“Well now, you know not to underestimate me.”

“I...Do.”

A natural smile reaches his face, and he approaches you, pulling you to him, and laying a soft kiss on your lips. Feeling fully accepted and loved, like never before. And he could see you-

“Oh NO EWWWWWW !!!”

You pull away from Bruce’s kiss (noticing his slow grumble, displeased to lose your warmth), and look at little Dickie (your son too, now !), staring at you two, looking disgusted.

“Get a ROOOOM !!”

This makes you laugh. A lot. And oh. Oh how would you ever guess, in that moment, that one day, this “get a room !!” said in such a disgusted tone would be the trademark of your children (SIX OF THEM) whenever they’d see you and Bruce display any sort of affection to one another ?

You couldn’t guess, of course. But even in that moment, as you softly laughed, in Bruce’s arms, while looking at your son now making exaggerated noises and acting silly, you knew this...

This was what you’ve been looking for during this gap year.

This was who you were.

Right there.

At the heart of a loving family, even if right now, it was just the three of you (four, let’s not forget Alfred !).

The end.

_________________________________________________

And here we are. I hope you liked it ? I feel particularly nervous about this one haha. Don’t hesitate to leave a little comment and reblog :), It’s always greatly appreciated, and encouraging :D. Thanks in advance, and see you soon with a new story !

#Bruce Wayne x reader #Batman x Reader #Batmom #Batfam x Reader #Batfam #Batfamily x Reader #Bruce Wayne imagine #Bruce Wayne #Batman #DC reader insert #Richard Grayson x Reader #Richard Grayson imagine #Batman imagine #Batman reader insert #Robin x reader #AU compare to main Batmom #Richard Grayson #fem!reader

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lordabovehelpme · 3 years

Note

AHHHHHHH LORDY CONGRATS ON 600 THIS IS AMAZING!!!!! Can I get a #10 (hello/goodbye kiss) with either Din Djarin or Javi Peña please??

And again CONGRATSSSSSS I’m so proud! You deserve it and so much more 💛 - @remmysbounty

A/n: Hello my dear! (@remmysbounty) Thank you so much!! I am so happy that you found my little blog and have been with me for this long! I love you!!

I went with Javi for this one because I feel like I don't write enough for him, so please enjoy this small blurb! :)

10. A hello/goodbye kiss that is given without thinking (Javier Peña x reader)

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He gets up before the sun does. Before the busy chatter of people walking down the streets, before the birds rise and start their melody and matching harmonies.

There is a serene calmness in these mornings that he’s come to both love and despise. He loves the silence of the world, something so different from the world he works in. But he hates how he has to leave you.

His limbs entangle with your own, your breath coming out soft and slow as you rest your head on his chest. He could, and has, spent hours looking at you. His hand tenderly caressing the delicate skin of your cheek, his fingertips barely kissing along your shoulder and back, running up and down your spine.

He loves how you are able to push every thought out of his mind, plaguing it with visions of you instead. Offering him so much comfort and solace, yet you don’t even know it.

The bright red numbers on the alarm clock remind him though, that his time is limited. He frowns at them, willing time to stop for even a second more. But alas, he knows better than to hope.

His neck strains as he stretches it to lean down and press a kiss to the top of your head. In your sleep, a small smile plays on your face and you snuggle further into his side.

A smile of his own gathers on his features. “You’re not making this any easier Hermosa.” He whispers the words, not expecting a response besides your gentle snores.

But, he forces himself to slowly untangle himself. Carefully, he lifts your arms from around his waist, and he has to stop, taking your hand into his own and raising it to his lips, pressing a loving kiss to the skin.

Then he shifts his legs out, smiling wider at how they were so happily curled between his own. And finally, he slowly and softly lifts your head, taking extra time and care to move it from his naked chest to your unused pillow.

You murmur something, words that bleed together in a pathetic attempt to plead with him. His heart constricts as your hand lazily reaches out to search for him.

He lets it find him and wrap around his shoulder. “I know, I don’t want to go either.” Leaning down, he presses another kiss to your head, this time right on your exposed cheek. He pulls back just enough to properly look at you. You’re so pretty.

Going against the bells in his head that scream at him to pull you back into his arms and never let go, he turns away to the bathroom. And even as he puts toothpaste on his toothbrush, his eyes stay on your form. And even as he starts to brush his teeth, the foam building in the corners of his lips, his eyes don’t stray.

He leans against the doorframe, watching as your chest rises and falls. His soul reaches out to you, like a magnet drawn to metal, it urges him to take step after step to reach you.

Once dressed and showered, he sits on the edge of the bed. The sunlight barely peaks over the horizon, casting warm pink and orange onto your form. His hand runs along your cheek, basking in the security of having you in his bed, in his hold, in his heart.

It’s beautiful, you’re beautiful. The warm glow of the morning light enhances your features, your hair laying natural and a little messy. Birdsong starts to echo through the window, mixing so angelically with your quiet breaths.

His eyes snap to the clock, catching the new numbers for only a second before they cry out to land on you again. It’s already a few minutes past the time he needs to be out the door, but he can’t tear himself away. The inner turmoil that nearly tears him apart each morning.

Finally, he works up the confidence to stand and walk towards the door. But he can only make it a few steps before turning around and walking right back over to your side.

He leans down and in a desperate manner, cups your face and presses his lips to your own. Your own smile against his and your arms rise to wrap around his neck. He doesn’t passionately tug at your lips or, for lack of better words, suck your face off. He just holds his to your own, pouring as much love and zeal as he can into it.

When he pulls away, your eyelids drag open, hands staying wrapped around his neck, and your eyelashes fluttering; his heart skips a beat... or a few.

“Off to work?”

He nods, still flummoxed in the natural beauty of your morning voice and soft expressions.

You gently sigh, leaning up to catch his lips in another kiss. An even softer kiss this time, but not holding any less emotion. When you pull back, he chases your lips, caught in an airy trance and wrapped in your spell.

A soft giggle falls from your mouth at the sight of his still close-eyed and all sappy, a huge juxtaposition to his usual approach.

One of your hands falls from around his neck, to cup his cheek and run your thumb along his cheekbone. “Be safe.”

He lets out a sigh, one that’s full of pain. “I know.” But he stretches forward to catch one last kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” It took him so long to say the three words to you, but now they fall from his lips wherever they can. “Come home to me.”

He pulls away, standing and slowly walking to the door, his hand still holding yours until he drifts too far. Then it falls to his side and he opens the door, eyes still locked on your form.

“I will.”

Neither of you says goodbye, both silently deciding that the words hold too much significance. It might be a silly little superstition that the two of you give too much power too, but it eases the departures a little. A hope that if you don’t say them, you won’t lose one another, that you’ll always come back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hope you liked it!!! This is a part of my 600 follower celebration. You can check out the prompt list here! Go ahead and request away!!!

#lordys 600 follower celebration #javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #javier peña #javier pena #narcos #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal

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moralesispunk · 3 years

Text

In his eyes II (Blacksmith Pero Tovar AU)

Pero Tovar x Female Reader

Part 2 of a short Pero Tovar Blacksmith AU

Part 1 here | Masterlist here under Pero | Part 3 here

Summary: after spending some time with Pero, your relationship takes a more personal turn when he comes by your father’s house every week to teach you checkers.

A/N: At the start we get to see some of this from Pero’s POV. I didn’t realise how much I enjoyed writing for Pero until I did part 1 so I hope people enjoy this part as much as the first!

The now empty basket where the bakings so kindly gifted by the bakers daughter had arrived in sat atop Pero’s workshop table for two days before he found confidence in the depth of his body to return it. While he waited, the lily that she had wrapped in the string around the bread had been pressed between the two heaviest books Pero could find. It was something he had watched his mother do whenever she received flowers from his father before he passed. He placed the now flat flower in the front of his notebook and placed that notebook in the safe keepings of his drawer at his bedside, opening it every night to run his fingers over it before going to sleep.

He wasn’t sure what the feeling in his stomach was when he thought of her was. The first time he had laid eyes on her was when he had walked into the village. While most people had stared at him, they looked away when his eyes met theirs. But not her. She held his gaze until he had completed passed by and her soft lips had even began to curl into a smile.

He had seen her every other day since then, eating more bread following his arrival in this village than he had in the rest of his life put together. Her gentle voice would wish him a good day and try to make conversation about the weather or the new pastries her father had baked that morning. While he usually avoided conversations with others because he did not want to entertain them, he avoided talking to her because he was worried that he would scare her off in some way. So instead, he let her talk about how the sun was arriving earlier in the village this year and he would offer a smile when she joked that maybe he brought it from whatever land he had travelled from.

Eventually, when he noticed how she spoke more to him than the others who were customers at the bakery, he began to offer his voice more. The day he learned her name was the day he swore his soul had been tied to hers for eternity. He spent the rest of his day repeating her name on his lips, listening to how it sounded in the different moods he went through as the day went on.

He still could not put a name to the feeling that swirled around his veins every second of every day for her. His stomach felt like it was flipping with every step he took towards the bakery, his heart felt like it had stopped for a moment when their eyes met and his palms would sweat when she first started talking. All these symptoms were usually of a sickness, something deep inside that had to be rid of, but he wanted to feel it more. He went out of his way to talk the long walk home from work to pass by the bakery and catch one final glimpse of her for the day, hoping she would turn and look up at him to make his heart stop.

As he lifted the basket to return to the bakers he walked by the checkers board she had commented on before she left two days before. He picked the board up folding it over and placing the checkers in a small bag to place in the basket as well. He had no one to play with and was not even sure why he brought it on his travels so maybe she and her father could have better use for it.

As he walked towards the bakery thoughts swirled his head of what she would be wearing today and whether her hair would be tied back or loose as she sometimes wore it. When he entered the bakers there was no one at the front of the shop, the only sound being the bell that rang through to the back as he opened the door. The baker walked out from the back, wiping some flour on the front of his apron as he headed towards Pero.

“Ah, Mr Tovar! Thank you again, I don’t think I have had such an easy time of making bread in years.”

Pero just grunted in response, making sure to nod his head so not to appear too rough before the kind man. He handed the basket over to the baker, watching as his eyebrow was cocked at the contents of the basket.

“What is this?”

“Checkers. Your daughter noticed it and you need two people to play,” Pero watched as the baker’s confused expression did not lift, “... and I have no one to play with so you two would have more use of it.”

“I do not know how to play.”

“Oh,” was all Pero could offer in return, heat climbing to his cheeks as he was lost for words more so than usual.

“You are not very good with women are you,” the baker chucked, “well, women like my daughter,” he clarified, both men aware that men who travelled did need their beds warmed like the rest.

“No,” Pero sighed, worried about what the baker was about to say.

If the man warned Pero away from ever talking to his daughter again he would have to respect that but his heart would ache every day. The thought of not getting to see the most beautiful woman he had seen across all the lands or listen to the most wonderful voice as she wished him a good day was already making his heart fall lower into his stomach.

“Well,” the baker interrupted his thoughts, “the bakery does not open on Mondays so you will come and teach her. Do you know where we live?”

Pero shook his head and the baker told him to walk east out of town, through the path in the forest until he reached the cottage. Pero nodded as he listened to the instructions, waiting until the baker had finished before walking out. As he reached the door he turned to thank the man. He did not know why he trusted Pero with his daughter but he had shown him more kindness than most. The baker smiled before turning and heading into the back of the shop.

For the rest of the week Pero thought about Monday. He did not sleep much the night before, something he never usually had trouble with. When he woke the next day the sun had barely risen above the trees. He set the pot of water above the fire, warming it just enough for a bath. He could not remember the last time he had spent this long in a bath but by the time he was changing into his clothes for the day the sun was well into the sky.

The walk to the baker’s house was not long but it was peaceful. It was just outside the village, through a forest path. When he finally reached the house he took three deep breaths, counting them slowly, before he knocked on the door. The baker opened it, welcoming Pero in with a smile.

When he stepped inside, the baker's daughter sat on the floor next to a small table that came to his knee height. It was a warm cottage, not just from the roaring fire than spread heat around the room, but from the personal contents that decorated each shelf. The warm browns and reds of throws and pillows to make the wooden benches softer would make anyone feel at home, even the tall, dark, mysterious man who was entering their home today.

The baker’s daughter was laying out the board, placing checkers on squares. As she looked up, he noticed the way her eyes shimmered from the candles lining the edge of the table. She smiled at him, at first a small, welcoming curve of the lips, before it turned into a wide grin that showed all her teeth. She looked so... pure. Loving. Caring. Innocent. A thousand words swam around his skull as he took her in.

She sat with her legs tucked under her, one hand playing with the hem of her skirt enough to show the soft skin at the bottom of her leg and the other resting on the board.

"Pero, I hope I set it up right I tried to remember how it looked in your workshop."

-------

As the knock finally came to the door the butterflies in your stomach were stalled. Your father walked to the door, opening to reveal Pero at the door. He was still dressed head to toe in all black but his layers less constricting that the ones you had seen him don in the village. The ones he wore now truly showed his proportions to you - his broad shoulders that looked as though they would not be able to fit through the doorway, his large arms from years of hard labour, the way he appeared slightly softer around the middle.

He nodded to your father as he walked in, his fingers rubbing together as he stepped into the house. Despite his dark eyes and hair, his scowl and large frame it felt as though the room got that bit lighter when he walked in.

"Pero, I hope I set it up right I tried to remember how it looked in your workshop."

He looked down at the board, reaching to move two pieces into what must have been their correct spaces.

"Sit," you motioned to a pillow you had placed at the other side of the table.

You had to bite back a laugh at the huff Pero let out when he lowered himself to the ground. You must not have done a good enough job, noticing the way Pero's eyes glared into you a little before he smiled.

"I'm going into the garden, the weeds are coming back. I expect you to make my daughter a checkers genius," your father motioned between you before walking out the door.

"Your father is a kind man," Pero noted after your father had moved to the garden.

"He is," you smiled, “would you like a drink?”

Pero nodded and you lifted the jug next to you on the table to pour two glasses and handing him one.

"You are kind too," he added after taking a sip.

"And so are you."

Pero shook his head, "I am not."

His eyes that had not moved from your face since he walked in suddenly found whatever was on the ground more interesting. You frowned, moving closer to the table.

"You have been nothing but kind to me."

"You do not know me. What I have done before I came here," his voice quiet.

"And you do not know me other than the girl who sells you bread. I can see you're a good man, Pero, in your eyes."

Pero did not know why you had so much faith in him, he certainly did not deserve it. He looked up at you again and stopped himself from telling you that you were wrong, that he was a horrible man who had done horrible things when he saw the softness in your eyes. Maybe he could be kind for you.

"So, how do you play?"

"You will play black to go first and I will play white. You must try to move all your pieces to my side of the board..."

He explained the game as you went, taking his time in telling you how to move around the board so you would win the first game. He never got frustrated at the questions you asked and did not care when you asked him to repeat the rules for the sixth time. As he told you to make the final move, making you the winner, he smiled, a true smile that took over his face as you laughed and cheered.

"Okay, okay. Will we play again? This time don't let me win," you laughed.

Pero chuckled, setting up the board again but still letting you go first.

"So, what did you do before you came to the village?" you asked after a while.

You watched while Pero's forearm tightened as he reached for the piece in front of him. He turned to look out the window, looking for your father before answering.

"He cannot hear us. Even if he could, he is not a naive man," you reassured.

"I sold my sword. To Kings and Lords or whoever had coins to spare. I travelled a lot of lands and fought a lot of men... and beasts."

"I bet you have a lot of stories. A lot more than everyone in this village put together."

"Probably. But for another time because I," Pero moved one final piece, "win."

You both laughed, leaning back to hold yourselves up with your palms resting on the ground behind you. The room was a lot darker than when he had came earlier today, the light from the sun almost non-existent and the fire lighting up his face perfectly. The red and amber glow that covered his face showed it perfectly. His jaw and nose were sharp as if carved from the strongest stone, softened slightly by the lines that surrounded his eyes while he smiled.

"You will come back to play then?"

"Yes, but you should practice so I do not feel so bad winning next time," he teased.

Pero stood from the table, the few hours you had spent sitting opposite one another meaning you had forgotten just how large he was until he towered over you. You tried to stand and join him but the pins and needles running up your legs made that difficult.

Pero reached a hand out, letting you hold onto it as you stood. His hand surrounded yours easily, the rough skin contrasting the gentle hold. You held onto it for a moment longer while you spoke.

"Thank you for teaching me," you whispered.

"Thank you for letting me," Pero lifted your hand placing a kiss to the back of your knuckles before dropping your hand again.

Your eyes remained on one another for a moment until your father entered the house again.

"Ah, Mr Tovar. How did my daughter do?"

"A natural," he turned, winking at you outside of your father's view.

"Will you be back? Next week?"

Pero nodded turning to wish you goodbye as he walked by your father who held the door open for him. As Pero walked out your father headed to the kitchen to start dinner and you moved to the window.

Pero stalked the path, each step powerful and calculated as he walked away. When he was outside of your garden, walking on the forest path he turned back to your house, catching your eye. He smiled, lifting a hand to wave. You waved back, unable to stop the childish grin on your face that did not come off until Pero must have been home.

Pero came every Monday for a few weeks, teaching you new tricks and manoeuvres to better win. You learned more about him as the weeks went on. He told you about his home land, his family and even some stories from his travels. You would see each other in between Mondays with you stopping by the workshop to say hello on the way to the bakers and he would drop in for his bread as usual, you wrapping some extra sweet pastries in along with them.

You waited by the doorstep for him to come today. You could make his walk out as his body emerged from the trees. His usual dark clothing made the flowers in his hand stand out even more. You stood from the step as you approached, flattening your skirts until he stopped in front of you, lifting the flowers to hand them to you.

“I saw these and - I- I thought of you.”

“They’re- they’re beautiful, Pero. Thank you,” you smiled as you lifted to smell the flowers, “the weather is lovely today, will we play outside?”

You and Pero played your games outside today, not talking too much other than sharing a story of your past every so often. The sun shone down on the garden, the smell of the pollen and sound of birds surrounding you both. When the sun finally started to lower and you packed the board away, your father called you both into the house.

“Pero,” you smiled as your father used his first name, something Pero had requested he do after you had watched him tense every time he called him by Mr Tovar, “I am away from the village next week, I have to visit my brother. Would you be so kind to check in on my daughter while I am gone?”

Pero’s mouth opened for a moment before he forced it shut again. You turned to look at him and as his eyes fell on your face he nodded before voicing an agreement to your father.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. I leave in two days.”

And with that the conversation was done and Pero began to leave once again. As you watched him go this week, your mind spun faster than it ever had before. You imagined the next time he would walk down this path would be to visit you alone in this house.

Pero was a gentleman and he respected your father but you knew as much as Pero that your father did not have any unreasonable expectations about what would happen when he was gone, otherwise he would have asked the butcher or the farmer, people you had known since a child.

He walked away a little slower than usual this week, turning more than once to wave goodbye. You couldn’t stop the way your heart was beating faster in your chest with this goodbye, looking forward to the next time you would see his face as he walked up the path.

Permanent tag list // @phoenixhalliwell @asta-lily @hb8301 @princess76179

Pero tag list // @bonktime @justpedropascal @coldlilheart @shadowolf993 @stylelovechild @frostsoldier @idreamofboobear

Excited for a part 3 where Pero and the baker’s daughter get some one-on-one time...

#pero Tovar x reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar #pero tovar fic #pero tovar fanfic #pero tovar fanfiction #headcannon #the great wall #pedro pascal #din djarin x reader #frankie morales x reader #marcus moreno x reader #oberyn martell x reader

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princess-of-riviaa · 3 years

Text

Claiming

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Erin Quincy (1st person POV)

Summary: You experience your first heat as a brand new shifter. Walter, being the good alpha he is, helps out his struggling omega.

Warning(s): depictions of animal attack, age gap (Erin is 25, Walter is 38), alcohol use, a bit of angsty Walter, dirty talk, possessiveness

Author’s note: This is my first piece of work I made for the ABO Universe. I hope you guys like it!

Word count: 3,931

Two weeks ago, I’d been on a camping trip with my two step-brothers, Scott and Chris, when my life had forever changed. One second, the hiking trail had been clear and safe; the next, some kind of animal was jumping out of the brush and fighting my breakfast sausage out of my hands. I later learned that the animal had been a wolf, but that realization only came when I had my first Shift three days later.

Though the night had escaped my memories, when I woke up in an unfamiliar mansion to an unfamiliar group of faces the next day, they filled me in on the details. The man in front—tall, with deep brown curls that were almost as distracting as his thick, muscular shape—had told me that I had Shifted the night before and ended up on their doorstep. And yes, Shifters—not werewolves, as most fantasy books called them—were real, Walter informed me during my surprised silence.

Walter Marshall—that was the stunning stranger’s name. He was an Alpha of one of the two packs that lived in this mansion, and I was more than welcome to join them. I couldn’t quite wrap my mind around what had become of myself—and I knew better than to hope that my family would understand—so I accepted the generous offer.

I had been with the pack for three weeks now. Winnie Marshall, Walter’s twin sister, was the Alpha for the mansion’s other pack. Walter had found me first—he had actually been the one to stop me from giving into my animalistic instincts on the night he found me, and had been the one to bring me in from the pouring rain—and technically had claim to me. But, because I hadn’t officially been claimed by him, Winnie argued that she had as much right to me as her brother did. So she took me under her wing. She’d explained everything to me, been there in my moments of panic and embarrassment to assure me that everyone goes through this, and it’s not going to last forever.

The only other two people in the house that were my age were two betas. One of them, a young man named Mike (though everyone called him Mikey), was the center of attention at the mansion, though he surprisingly had his eyes set on the quiet girl who loved books. Her name—I met her last, simply because she’d locked herself in the library for a week-long reading challenge—was Amber Connelly. As the only other beta under the age of thirty, she had an… interesting relationship with Mikey. And by that I mean they were both head over heels for each other, though they only ever bickered, and neither of them seemed aware of the others’ feelings. But they never acted on their feelings, and no one ever expected them to, simply because Mikey was Walter’s Beta, and Amber was Winnie’s, and packs didn’t mix, especially if their was a chance of a Claiming.

Claiming—that was the part of all of this that had intrigued me the most. It started with a bite. One person had to bite their partner directly over the heart, hard enough to leave a scar that would be there forever. In another sense, one wolf had to mark their partner as their territory. It was possessive in every sense of the word, and I couldn’t deny that deep down inside of me, I wanted to share that intimate, lifelong promise with Walter.

It was insane for a number of reasons. Not only had I met the Alpha just a few weeks ago, but I wasn’t even officially in his pack, and a Claiming with an Alpha would make me second-in-command. There were a few steps I would be skipping if that happened. Not to mention that Walter Marshall was the only unclaimed Alpha over the age of thirty-five in the entire city, and there was a reason for that. I didn’t know the details, but I knew it had something to do with his past. Our age was another factor. He was almost 40, while I had just turned 25.

And yet, here I was, wanting his mark anyways. He was quiet and reserved enough to make him mysterious, and that only pulled me in more. In the first week I was there, I found any way I could to talk to him, mainly to thank him for giving me a safe place for this new season of life. But he had disappeared with Andy and Charles Barber—two Beta brothers—for an entire week. Winnie had only said that they were taking care of business on the other side of the city, but when the three men came back, there was a darkness to all of them that told me whatever they had been doing… It hadn’t been fun.

Walter was harder to reach in the days that followed. When I would knock on his office door and ask him if he was able to train me today—something both he and Winnie insisted on their packs doing in their daily routine—he would snap and order me to leave, the sound of his growl following me out the door. He apologized for his behavior three days later, and bought takeout from my favorite restaurant to make it up to me, but I still couldn’t forget that side of him. The side of him that turned his soft blue eyes completely black. The part of him that was all animal, only selfishness and cold edges.

And yet, even after all of that, I still wanted him. I’d lost count of the number of times I’d woken up panting in the middle of the night, rising out of a dream of those blue eyes looking down at me as he fucked my throat, making me gag and cry around his cock. The sound of my own moans had forced me awake before dawn this morning. The memory of Walter’s intense gaze holding my reflection’s as he fucked me in the bathroom had followed me all day.

I was still wound up as I made my way to the game room. The smell of alcohol was strong throughout the house. The packs were celebrating Walter and Winnie’s thirty-eighth birthday tonight, and everyone, it seemed, was intent on getting blackout drunk. There were three kegs in the living room. It took Shifters a lot longer to get drunk, so I wasn’t surprised to find that the kegs were already halfway empty by the time I filled a cup for myself.

But I was surprised to find Walter perched on the roof when I made my way up to my regular hiding spot. He didn’t look over at me when I climbed onto the roof, but he didn’t seem startled when I took a seat beside him, and I knew his Shifter senses had probably heard me before I’d even climbed up the stairs that led up here.

“I see you stole my hiding spot,” I remarked as I took a sip of my beer.

“This way my hiding spot first, actually.” There’s amusement in his eyes as he looks at me out of the corner of his eye, but the amusement is only a cover. I note the darker emotion hiding beneath, and I recognize it instantly. It’s the same thing I’ve been feeling since my first Shift.

Loneliness.

“So technically you stole it from me,” Walter continued, giving me a ghost of a smile.

Though the air was light between us for once, I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “Why are you hiding on your birthday?”

He sighed and looked out at the valley below us. The city lights reflected in his eyes, making the blue in them sparkle. He chugged back the rest of his beer before answering, “I’m thirty-eight tonight.”

“So I’ve heard.” The light tone was clearly forced, but I continued anyways. “Congratulations.”

His long fingers parted thick curls before he clutched the roots of his hair and squeezed, looking frustrated and… defeated. “I’m thirty-eight—and I still don’t have a goddamn mate.”

Oh.

I didn’t know what to do. Part of me was more than ready to say, Take me. Claim me. I’ll be your mate. But I knew that was overstepping. I didn’t know how to comfort him.

“Walter—” I began.

He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t burden you with this. I think I’ve had a few too many drinks.”

We both knew that was a lie. He was too collected to be drunk. Everything—save for his brutal honesty—screamed completely sober.

“I just…” He went on, then stopped himself.

I put a hand on his arm and had to physically force myself not to lean into the warmth of his body heat. When his blue eyes met mine, I nearly lost control. God, I wanted him. I wanted to ran my hands through his hair; wanted to know the way his moans sounded as he filled me up; wanted to feel his mouth on me—

I shook my head in an attempt to clear my mind. “It’s okay,” I told him. “You can tell me.”

He hesitated.

“You’ve been there for me since I got here,” I pointed out. “It’s only fair that I do the same for you.”

His eyes scanned my face, and I got the feeling that he could see into my soul. It unnerved me as much as it made me want to bear myself to him. He finally said, “You don’t owe me anything, Erin. I was being a good Alpha.”

“You let a stranger into your home,” I argued. “That qualifies as more than simply being a good Alpha. There’s other packs in the city, yet you were the only one who opened your door to me. And you’ve let me stay here when you could have just as easily sent me away. You’re not just a good Alpha, Walter, you’re…” I almost said, you’re everything, but I caught myself.

But the way he looked at me… I had a feeling that he heard what I didn’t say.

“And maybe you think I don’t owe you,” I went on, “but I want to be there for you. I want to give you whatever you need.”

His eyes left my face to stare at the hand I placed on his arm. He reached for it, and at first I thought he was going to push me away, but he simply held my hand between his own. He opened my fingers and stared at my palm as if he was going to tell me my future. A thick, calloused finger traced across the lines on my palm. The touch was simple and gentle, but it made me shiver nonetheless.

“I’m the only Alpha in the city without a mate,” he finally admitted. “That fact has never bothered me before. I always liked being on my old. I thought I was better that way. It was enough always having to keep an eye on Winnie; I never had a want for someone else to look out for.”

“But now…?” I guessed there was a “but” in that sentence.

His focus was locked on his fingers as he traced the outline of my hand. Something about the way his rough skin felt against mine… It made heat stir in the pit of my stomach. I didn’t realize I had started to lean into him until there was just a few inches of space left between us.

“But now,” he finally said, and sighed. “Now I find myself wanting something I don’t know if I can have.”

“A mate?” Why couldn’t he have that?

“You.” He finally met my gaze, just as the words clicked in my mind.

Heat made my cheeks burn bright red as I repeated his words. “M-me? What do you mean?”

“I mean I want you.” His gaze was unapologetic, yet the twist of his mouth… I could tell he was fighting some internal battle. “When I first saw you in that back alley, hiding under that shed from the rain…”

I was silent as he spoke, simply because I’d never heard all the details of what had happened that night, and Walter was the only one with that memory.

“I had Shifted too,” he admitted. “The pack Shifts together on full moons. The Omegas and some of the Betas are less overwhelmed by it if we’re all together. But something had drawn me away from the pack, like some string had pulled me out onto the streets…”

Only once he said something did I realize that I did remember a part of that night. It wasn’t a memory of what had happened, but rather… a feeling I had gotten. Like someone had been calling my name and I had gone in search of them.

“I’d never experienced anything like that before,” Walter continued. “And when I found you, shaking from fear and the cold… I knew I had to do something. The urge to protect you was overbearing. So I brought you home. I told myself it just from the intensity of the Shift that I felt like that, but when you Shifted back the next morning… I knew I couldn’t just let you walk away. So I told you to stay, and I knew that if you had said no, I would have done anything to change your mind.”

“Walter…” My voice was a quiet whisper as my thoughts began to race. “Do you think… That feeling… I felt it too. Is that what…”

“What having a mate feels like?” he guessed.

All I could do was nod. Somehow I already knew the answer, but I needed to hear him say it.

“Maybe.” When his gaze met mine, I realized he looked as lost as I felt. “I couldn’t say one way or another; I’ve never had a mate. But if it is…” He finally dropped my hand, only to cup my face and pull me towards him. “Listen to me, Erin. Even if…” He paused, as if he was struggling to say it out loud, too. “Even if we’re mates, that doesn’t mean you have to choose me. You can walk away. Hell, you can even…” He practically flinched at these words, as if saying them was a physical blow—“You can even choose someone else. Another man. I’m not going to force you into anything.”

I didn’t know what to say. “I think I want another drink.”

Disappointment flashed in his eyes, but it was gone in a blink. He rose to his feet, insisting that he get it for me. I watched him walk away. He took four steps—and froze. His entire back went rigid, too stiff for a human. His Shifter instincts had picked up on something.

I froze, wondering what was happening, what he had picked up on.

But he merely turned to face me again. Slowly. “Erin.”

I tried to sense his source of distress, but I couldn’t pick up on anything. The only thing I picked up on was how that look in his eyes sent heat straight to my core. “What is it, Walter?” I was on my feet and closing the distance between us in a matter of seconds.

“Don’t move!” he practically yelled.

I paused, almost jumping at his volume.

His eyes were wild, frantic, looking like an animal caught in a trap.

“What’s wrong?” I asked again, resisting the urge to reach out to him.

“Do you know what’s happening to you?” Every muscle in his body was taut as he asked the question.

I frowned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He simply said, “You’re going through heat.”

Oh.

Winnie had explained that to me on one of my first days here. She’d said it happens to every female Shifter. Her hormones—particularly the horny ones—exploded, and every male Shifter around her could sense it. Apparently, it drove the males as crazy as the females, though it was dangerous to be an Omega—specifically an unclaimedOmega—around any Alphas while in heat.

That’s why Walter wasn’t moving, wasn’t even breathing: he was trying not to pounce on me and take what he wanted. What we both needed.

All those dreams about him… They finally made sense. I was preparing for my first heat.

Only once he brought it to my attention did I realize just how hot I was. My heart was hammering in my chest, flames boiling beneath my skin, and—god, when had I gotten so wet?

“Walter…” My voice was a high-pitched whine.

“You’ll be okay.” He didn’t sound convincing in the slightest. The look in his eyes matched the relentless ferocity rising in my core.

God, I needed him. “Please…”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “I can’t, Erin. We’re both unclaimed. I won’t be able to control myself—”

I took a step towards him—and practically cried out. The burning in my core—between my legs—it was unbearable. I needed to ease the ache inside of me. My hand moved of its own accord towards my legs, and before I knew it I was touching myself over my jeans.

Walter’s eyes were locked on my hand. “Erin… you’re killing me.”

“Please, Walter,” I begged, my body no longer under my control. “I need you. I can’t breathe—”

That was when he kissed me. He wasn’t the first person I had kissed, but he felt like the first person who mattered. Our mouths molded together and I moved against him in a way that said, I’m choosing this. I’m choosing you.

“God, I can smell you,” he breathed into my neck, his low voice nothing more than a moan. “You’re already wet for me, baby.”

All I could do was moan as he pressed me against his erection. His mouth trailed down my neck, over my clavicle, and stopped over my heart.

“I want you,” I cried out as I ran my hands through his hair. “Mark me, Walter. Please.”

He brought his mouth to my chest, but he didn’t bite me like I expected him to. Instead, he brushed a soft kiss against my skin. I whined as he pulled away and moved me from his lap.

“Did I do something wrong?” I panicked, feeling like an idiot—

“No,” he assured me. “You’re… god, you’re perfect. But I’m not about to fuck you on the roof. I doubt you’ll want the entire neighborhood to hear you moaning for me.”

My face flushed instantly, but I didn’t say anything as he rose to his feet and pulled me inside, not stopping until we were in his room. An Alpha’s room was a place very few people ever saw. It was more intimate than a regular bedroom; it was stepping into his territory, walking onto his turf, and I knew that something had permanently changed between us as I crossed the threshold into the room.

The room was rather simple. A king-sized bed was pressed against the left wall. The crimson sheets were the only color in the room. The right side of the wall had a desk covered in files and papers. Newspaper clippings hung above it, stamped into the wall with thumb tacks. I didn’t have a moment to read what all the papers were about before Walter distracted me.

He arms wrapped around me as he lifted me up in the air. My legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. I clung to his shoulders, but he held me easily, as if I weighed no more than a few pounds. The show of pure strength did nothing to help the wet mess between my legs.

Walter walked us to the bed and lied me down on my back. He hovered over me but didn’t move to touch me. The longing and lust in his eyes was so vibrant, so undeniable, that I writher beneath him.

But his tone was calm as he said, “I need to ask you again. Is this what you want, Erin?”

“So much,” I breathed before pulling him against me.

His thigh moved between my legs, and he deepened the kiss as his leg pressed tightly against my core, applying pressure where I needed it most. Though our hands ran along each other’s bodies in a hungry frenzy, he kissed me differently than he had on the roof. It wasn’t rushed or desperate this time, but rather deep and slow and just as sensual. My toes curled.

I cried out as his mouth moved to my ear. He nipped at my earlobe—an action that sent shivers through my body—before whispering, “What is it, baby girl? What do you want? My fingers?”

I writhed against him.

“My mouth?”

Oh, fuck.

“Both?”

A wanton moan escaped me before I could stop it.

“Or are you already too desperate? That’s what it smells like to me. My little omega’s falling apart and I haven’t even touched you yet. You’re already desperate for me to fill your aching cunt, aren’t you, baby girl?”

His tone was different than I’d ever heard it. He spoke in a low, husky voice, and his tone was teasing but demanding at the same time. It made me dizzy.

“Already forgotten your words, omega? Has the heat gotten to your brain?” He buried his face in the crook of my neck and rubbed his nose along the skin below my ear. He was scenting me. “Or is it your Alpha who’s gotten to you?”

Instead of answering, I clawed at his clothes desperately, trying to undress him in my lustful haze. He allowed me to take his shirt off, though he undid his pants himself. His body… how was he even more impressive naked? I took one look at those sculpted muscles, at the dark swirls of hair that covered his chest and stomach, and knew that that was the kind of body that put the gods to shame. His cock bounced against his stomach as he stepped out of his underwear. It was thick and long, and as I watched the red, aching tip release pre-cum, I wondered how I could possibly fit his girth inside of me.

“My turn,” he breathed before moving to hover over me again.

One minute I was clad in my shorts and t-shirt, and the neck my clothes were in shreds on the floor. Walter’s hungry gaze made note of every inch of skin I beared for him, and I was too fucked out to feel self-conscious.

“Fuck me, Alpha,” I begged. “I need you inside of me!”

He growled before spreading my legs and pressing his length against my core. Our lips met just as he pushed inside me, and my nails dug into his shoulder at the burst of pleasure that ripped from me. His mouth was on my chest a second later, and as he kneaded my breasts in his hands, his teeth cut into the skin over my heart.

Claiming me.

...

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#walter marshall #walter marshall night hunter #henry cavill smut #walter marshall smut

101 notes · View notes

weebwrites · 3 years

Text

What It Takes (Meizou x Reader) (Ximen x Reader)

Fandom: Meteor Garden / Boys Over Flowers Warnings: Unrequited love, Love Triangle, Happy Ending, Sad Ending Words: 2k217 Requested By: No One Synopsis: Meizou can’t help but wonder what it will take for his fiancé to love him instead.

Note to Self- Don’t fall In Love First

Mei Zou had been ecstatic when he first heard of the arranged business merger between his family and the Y/L/N group. Since the moment his mother brought the idea to him, he was shaking with excitement. He had always been worries of his parents plan for his future- maybe that’s why he tried to have as much fun as possible in his youth.

Mei Zou told no one about the engagement plans, but, of course, Y/n noticed. She called him out the first time she saw him since he was told the news. It never stopped shocking him; she was the most observant person Mei Zou had ever met.

The group of five were lounging in the bridge room, and the second Y/n looked up from her music composition book she asked Meizou what made him so excited. He was quick to re-gain his composure and call it a secret- saying she’ll find out soon enough.

The other three people in the club room looked over at the both of them. Ah Si rolled his eyes, making some remark of how freaky it was- that she knew them so well.

Ximen walked over to her and put his hand gingerly on Y/n’s head, “I think it’s cute how her gaming strategy bleeds into her personality.” He moved his hand to her jaw so they were looking at each other, sharing a smile.

Lei nodded, “It’s nice to have someone you can have a silent conversation with.”

Meizou kept his eyes on the pair in front of him, his hands balling at his sides, morphing into pale chords of muscles as he clenched the chair’s fabric. Y/n had looked back at her book, making progress on the song she was composing.

He watched as her hair fell from behind her ears, obscuring his view of the girl. He noticed the signs of her becoming increasing frustrated. Just as he was about to move over, Y/n had called out to Lei.

“I’m trying to convert my song from guitar to piano, but I’m not sure how to compensate for the fret change during the bridge. What chord do you think will work here?” She made eye-contact with the soft boy.

Before looking at where she was referring to, Hua Ze Lei gently brushed the hair from her face before answering her question.

If only we were together already, Mei Zou thought, then I could stop them from looking at her like that. It was hard on the boy to see Y/n interact with other guys on a daily basis. He’s loved her since they were children, but he had no clue what the future held. So, for now, he bit his tongue. It would be so much easier if she loved me already.

------------------------------

Note To Self- Don’t wait too long

He was many things- an artist, a bridge player, a loyal friend, a play boy, a hopeless romantic, the list goes on- but Mei Zou is not an idiot.

He recognized the signs- falling in love was most visible from the outside. It started small, he would walk beside her in the halls. Then he would be the first to her classes, then he started to drive her home, until he’d take her out before reaching her house. It had started small, the love between an angel and a broken man.

Meizou wasn’t an idiot. He knew Ximen was cautious with love, to the point of thinking he might never get married. It was a shock when he realized his friend was actually in love.

When Meizou first noticed his friend’s lingering glances and moment longer hands on her waist, he cornered him in the hallway. He had pushed Ximen against the lockers, grabbing his collar. Meizou scolded him, warned him that Y/n wasn’t like the girls he toys with, she’s more than them. He warned him about messing with their Y/n, the only female member of F5; Meizou gently reminded him that it wasn’t just himself Ximen would have to worry about, Ah Si and Lei cherished their princess, and they’d do anything to protect her.

Ximen shoved his friend off of him, aggressively declaring his love for her. “I love her, Meizou,” he whispered after. “I can’t stop- it’s like she’s the only thing in my life- every girl I see is just a person who isn’t her, every breath I take is one I wish was with her; she’s in every thought I have and my hand feels empty without hers’ in it. I don’t know how but I love her. I love her.”

To say he was shocked would be an understatement. Meizou guided Ximen back to their club room to keep away from peering eyes. They sat and drank the scotch the room was stocked with. Even as Ah Si came and went, Ximen hadn’t said a word since the hallway. Nothing fell from his lips since he whispered his love for their bestfriend. Meizou had never seen Ximen so vulnerable before, so delicate; if he told his friend about the engagement plans Meizou feared he would shatter like a porcelain heart, so he waited.

--------------------------------

Note To Self- Decide Your Priorities Early On

Having the plans be a secret wasn’t difficult. Meizou wasn’t told anything since the reveal, so it’s not like he was keeping anything other than that from hs friends. No, having it be a secret wasn’t what was difficult- but keeping it a secret was the most painful experience ever.

Meizou watched their love story from the side lines- seeing the stages of their relationship was like watching acts of a play in a theater he couldn’t leave. He was the understudy of a lead who never got sick. Still, Meizou waited. He waited for Ximen to mess up, to freak out. It was messed up- something he never thought he would stoop low enough to do- yet every time Y/n gushed about her plans Meizou silently prayed his friend wouldn’t show up.

He prayed Ximen would forget, he prayed Ximen would make a mistake- just once. He wished he would say the wrong thing- offend her by accident; he prayed on every lucky star that Ximen would hurt her- just once.

Yet with every ill-intended wish it was like their love grew stronger. Ximen had given up his go-to dating plans the moment Y/n agreed to go out with him. Long gone were the roses and strawberry scented cards, no more was the heart on the side of the building. Y/n wasn’t like that.

Instead they would go to a second hand book store and find a book that had been lived in- one with dog-eared pages and cracked spines. With their books in hand they would to go a cafe, they’d order two drinks (A hot tea of differing flavors and a Spiced Chai Latte) and a piece of cake. Occasionally looking up to smile at their partners, they lived through the books. Smudged highlights of their favorite quotes, smushed rants in the margins when the plot got heated, tears softening the pages which hurt their hearts; the two poured their souls into the pages, and then they gave part of themselves to the other.

They’d go their separate ways and read the books their partners had chosen for them, laughing when they read a funny note the other had left, calling in tears when everything goes wrong, they annotated the novels. The books would be swapped back and forth, each time read from a new perspective until each page was filled with reminders of love, silly rants, or just mementos of their time together. The book became more ink and highlighter than paper, and it’s meaning had transformed. This was what they were as a couple, something that never seemed to be breakable. Something endless.

Ah Si was spectacle at first, hesitant to expose Y/n to his playboy turned romantic friend. He had always thought Y/n would end up with Lei- but he gave Ximen a chance, and he waited. He waited for Y/n to show up at his door step in tears, he waited to kill Ximen for making her cry. He waited and he waited and the day never came.

Instead, Y/n cried over how sweet he was. Instead she told him how well he treated her, how Ximen made her feel so special. She called Ah Si late at night not heartbroken, but reduced to giggles and squeals after a perfect date. Never came the day Ah Si would comfort a heartbroken Y/n, and he had never been happier for her.

Lei was the first to know of Y/n’s long-lasting crush on his friend. He was surprised- back when she told him at the age of twelve. But since then he expected the calls of how he was perfect, how he’d never see her as a girl. He knew Y/n’s feelings inside out, and he was worried when she told him that Ximen had taken her out on a date. He waited for Ximen to get bored, for Y/n’s perfection to not be enough for him. Lei watched silently as the pair spent every second together, watched with careful eyes as they fell hard.

After his worries for her well being subsided, Lei waited for Y/n to fade from his life. As it was, Y/n called him every day and texted him throughout it. He waited for the calls to stop, for her texts to become once a day with simple meanings. He waited patiently to be along on the rooftop with only the memories of his bestfriend to keep him company. He waited and waited and waited, staring at the phone or the rooftop entrance. Days, weeks, a month, two, yet the phone always rang, and the door always opened. Lei realized Y/n wouldn’t be abandoning his relationship with her for someone else. Maybe it was because he chose love and abandoned his friends when he did- maybe that's why he tried to prepare himself for Y/n’s departure from his life- waiting for her to disappear. But the day never came, and Lei stopped waiting.

Ximen was terrified every day. He was anxious as he drove to her house, wondering when he would freak out. He was scared when he looked down and saw Y/n holding onto his arm, wondering when he would push her off. He clenched his hand tight as he watched her dance through the streets of Shanghi, wondering when he would ruin his one shot at happiness.

Every date his heart was beating out of his chest, every stolen glance felt like the last. Every smile thrown his way was a wakeup call- every time her voice reached his ears it cut through the fog of self doubt and misery which swallowed him whole- she was his savior. His angel that managed to save him every time, the only life raft on the sinking boat; she was the only good thing left in the world that fought to bruise his ego and tie him to a hundred pound weight of misery. She was the softest blanket, she was the best alarm. She was everything. His hand unclenched. He calmed down.

Meizou should have known this would happen. He decided then, seeing her beautiful smile, that her happiness is all that mattered.

---------------------------------------------------------

Note To Self- Sometimes Things Don’t Work Out, Sometimes That’s Okay

When Meizhou told his parents he wouldn’t go through with the wedding they were furious. When he broke down in tears they had no clue what to do with themselves.

“She’s in love with someone else,”

They comforted him as best as absentee parents could, patting his head awkwardly with empty words. They offered to go through with it anyway, have her fall in love with him after they’re married.

Meizhou refused- he didn’t want to.

Instead, Meizhou stood at the altar, watching as Y/n approached. She was beautiful. Her dress dragged behind her and her eyes watered with tears- she was gorgeous.

Lei and Daoming Si stood across the isle, beside Y/n as she took her rightful spot. She stared into the eyes of her beloved and, for once, it wasn’t jealousy that prickled under his skin. It was sorrow- deep and painful morning for the death of his future. His beloved would never be his, his beloved was someone else. He cried.

Y/n had never felt better. Her mother had been apprehensive about giving her consent, saying she hadn’t expected Ximen to be the one she fell in love with. Y/n wasn’t sure what she meant, but her mom dressed her to the nines and did her makeup personally.

And now here she was, standing in front of the man she’d gladly spend every moment of her life with.

“How did I get so lucky,” she whispered, as Lei handed her Ximens ring and Meizhou handed him the other.

“No love-” Ximens eyes swirled with love and adoration, “how did I get so lucky?”

The room erupted into cheers, applause, the occasional scream or encouragement as they kissed. The world faded around them and the only thing that mattered was each other.

Meizhou waved them off as they climbed into the limo towards their honeymoon.

#meteor garden #f4 #feng meizuo #ximen #daoming si #hua ze lei #chinese drama #ximen x reader #meteor garden x reader #meizhou x reader #ximen x reader x meizhou #meteor garden angst #meteor garden fluff #kdrama #kdrama fanfic #kdrama x reader #boys over flowers #boys over flowers x reader

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istanleyff7 · 3 years

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TOTP, Episode Aerith, Scenes 28-35

Final Fantasy VII Remake: Traces of Two Pasts Episode 2: Aerith Scenes 28-35 A Light Novel by Kazushige Nojima Translated by Stanley (@istanleyff7 on twitter) Scene 28

Aerith intended to find a job on her own, but Elmyra had already promptly sorted it out. It was to help the teachers at the Sector 5 House. Even though it was a job, she didn't feel that she was working because she spent most of her time playing with the children. She wanted to know about the world that she hasn't experienced. Yoko, who was older than her, had already left the house. She rented a house with a group of friends and made jewellery, which she sold in markets around Midgar. Jean and X collected machine parts from the scrapyard, polished them and sold them to people who needed them. Elmyra frowned when she told her this and ordered that she must never leave Sector 5 no matter what.

"You said that if you restrained me, you'd be the same as Shinra. Have you forgotten?"

"I can’t believe you said that kind of stuff to your mother."

Elmyra looked very tired. Her work probably took a toll on her. If she had continued her "business" with Carlo and the others, she would not have had to work this hard. No matter how Aerith thought about it, she felt Elmyra let go of the business because of her. They were not a real parent and child, and she didn't have to care for her in the first place. Aerith wondered if she really had those inner thoughts, and she sure did. Was the given circumstances the reason why she tried to hold herself back with unnecessary words? Now, she was retaliating as a way to get back at Elmyra for tying her down.

Scene 29

"That's really sick."

"Yup, I admit it. My rebellious phase made things worse. I didn't have things to pour my heart and soul into, unlike you, Tifa."

"I really recommend exercising."

"Yeah, I’ll do that eventually."

"Yeah right… I’m sure.... You’ll do that eventually…."

"So, even though all these happened, I continued to help out at the house. The kids were so cute. They loved me. By the time I was fourteen, I didn't have much to complain about. But..."

Scene 30

After finishing work at the Sector 5 House, Aerith headed down the alley back home and saw people within the Gainsborough property standing by the entrance, unintentionally blocking it. There were two men and two women, and they seemed to be looking at the garden and the house. She recognised one of the men. His long, beautiful golden hair had not changed.

"Rodin!" Aerith called out to him instinctively.

The face she saw when he looked back was unmistakably Rodin's.

"Yo, Aerith!" Rodin called back to her cheerfully, but for some reason, still looking about his surroundings.

"You've grown taller, haven't you? How long has it been?"

"It's been two years? Maybe slightly more than that?"

"Ahhh, yeah around that long."

She also looked at the other three to see if she knew them.

"Cheers."

Their eyes met. The young man with a large body and a boy's face raised his hand bashfully.

"Eh? Is that you, Marcellus?"

"Ah, you recognise me?"

"Of course."

Although Aerith replied that, she did not think that he was the same as back then. His physique became like his father's.

"I brought Marcellus here because, for some reason, he insisted on seeing you, Aerith."

Rodin took a step back, seeming like he made an excuse. There was a sense of discomfort. Marcellus darted his eyes from place to place and Aerith could sense his nervousness. He scratched his cheeks two or three times and started to speak in an awkward manner.

"Aerith. Firstly, I want to apologise for calling you a thief. Please forgive me. I was really a stupid kid. I hated anything and everything about the world at that time. I didn't even control myself."

"I had already forgiven you. I'm glad you seem to be doing fine."

Marcellus's face lit up.

"Yea, I've been doing fine, thanks to you. Some thugs were chasing after me, then I ran away before a monster attacked me, and I was dying. Then I had a dream that you came to save me. For the longest time, I thought that it was a dream. Even if you were close by to me, you had no reason to save me, and you definitely couldn't be close by. But I had heard it from Carlo the other day that you knew where I was. Carlo didn't believe your reason. That's why he didn't tell anyone about it for a long time."

Aerith gave a faint smile, thinking that it was best not to deny or confirm anything. Damn you, Carlo.

"So I did a lot of research, and I've been wondering if it was the influence of the Lifestream. It's the flow of Spirit Energy. Do you know about it?"

"Nope."

She pretended not to know anything.

"Mako Energy sucks away the Lifestream..."

"Marcellus!" the young lady had been quiet the whole time, rebuked at him. "You're not allowed to talk badly about Mako Energy. I'll tell Papa if you do."

She then looked over at Aerith—

"My brother can talk about this for a super long time. Hey, have you been well?"

It was Rona.

"Yup. It looks like you're doing well too, Rona. How's Mr Meguro?"

"I can't say he's fine, but he's doing better now than when we left the slums. The air is better on the plate. You see, it's polluted and cloudy here, isn't it? I didn't know that until we left."

Rona was the same as before. She hurts people without meaning to.

"What's Carlo doing now?"

"He's working hard and is managing the business well. But I do wonder how he was during The Sector 5 Clash..."

"The Sector 5.... Clash?"

"You don't know about it?" Rona was shocked. "After Papa retired and Carlo became head of the household, the Corneo's, and some other ambitious, unknown people, came into Sector 5. Carlo and the others tried to get rid of them, and there was a bloody clash. Marvin, Roger and Bowman died, unfortunately."

"Eh...."

Aerith wondered how she could not have known about that.

"Well, things have already settled down, so there isn't an issue. And everyone has settled down where they should be," Rodin said, looking around again.

"Well then, Marcellus, Rona, are you both done? You both still can send letters in the future."

"Elmyra will be back soon. Do you all want tea?"

"I'm afraid we can't have tea either. We're actually not allowed in the Special District."

"Special District?"

"It spans from the station until here," Marcellus said. "It was established by Shinra around the time the Clash began. We weren't allowed to fight in the Special District. Anyone who breaks this rule would be executed. It was the only rule that everyone obeyed."

"I wonder what made this district special."

"Eh? Of course, it's because you're here, Aerith!" Rona could not hide her shock as she said it out loud.

"Okay! That's enough!" Rodin panicked.

"You both talked too much. Well then, let's go." Rodin urged them.

Marcellus hurriedly tried to arrange another meeting with Aerith. It seemed that he wanted to talk about the "mysterious incident". Aerith gave him a faint nod and dodged his attempt to do so. Rona invited her to come up to the plate to play, and Aerith replied that she would ask Elmyra. The four of them began leaving the alley. But Rodin turns around and points to a woman beside him. She was the one who was not introduced until the end.

"This woman is Amber, and we'll be getting married soon. Would you please pass the news to Elmyra? It's unfortunate that I couldn’t introduce Amber to her."

Amber looked at Aerith with an angry look on her face.

↞↠

When Aerith got home, she looked at a stand, which had a vase placed on it. There used to be a television on that stand. She wondered when the television disappeared from the house.

"Ah..."

She remembered. It was a month after Elmyra severed ties with Carlo and the household. While Elmyra was cleaning the stand, the television fell over, and it broke. There was no television in the house after that. Aerith wondered if it was a coincidence or was it just to keep unnecessary information out of the house.

Elmyra returned home late at night, and Aerith talked to Elmyra about Rodin and the others.

"Oh my, it's been a while, hasn't it? Are they alright?"

However, Aerith could tell on Elmyra's face that she was on guard.

"Hey, Mum. Do you know about the Sector 5 Clash? And about the Special District too?"

"What have you heard? We are living in a different world from those guys. It's better if you don’t worry about every little detail."

It seems that she would leave things in the dark again.

"The Special District is right here, isn't it? It's because I'm here. That's why Mum, you wouldn't let me go far away. That's the promise you made to Shinra. A promise to shut me in the Special District."

Elmyra shut her eyes and shook her head.

"That's not it. But let's stop talking about this now. I'm tired, and whew, work was rough. The water tank in the café had broken down."

"Why don't you quit your job if it’s that tough? If you want money, why don't you get it from Shinra? You've been living on their money all your life. Nothing would change, wouldn’t it?"

Aerith knew she should not have said that, but she did. She could not see the look on Elmyra's face, and she then heard footsteps. Elmyra went up to the second floor and went into her own room.

Scene 31

"At that point, I thought that would be the end of my time in the house."

"But it had a happy ending, didn't it? I mean, you both went back on good terms."

Scene 32

Aerith thought that she could not stay in the house any longer and she was filled with emotions. Aerith firstly went back to her room, pulled out a suitcase she had never used from under the bed and stuffed a few sets of clothes, along with a few valuables, into it. Lastly, she put all the money she had earned from the Sector 5 House into her pocket and left the house. She walked down a familiar alleyway into a brightly lit street. A familiar face called out to her.

"Hey, Aerith. Are you going out at this hour?"

"I'm heading towards Sector 6."

She instinctively told a lie.

"Wait, what, no!"

"Don't worry. I'm not going to the Wall Market."

"Be careful, okay? Elmyra will cry if that happens."

As she walked along the street, she remembered her adventure with Ifalna.

『I wonder which direction is Sector 3 in?』

『Which direction is Sector 3 in?』

『I've heard that there's a church in the Sector 5 Slums. In the past, people gathered here and prayed to God, but nobody comes here anymore. I've been thinking that we should hide there a little...』

Aerith's steps became lighter. She still really liked this idea that Ifalna brought up in the middle of that adventure. The church should be far and beyond the station, outside the 'Special District'. It was the perfect place for Aerith's mood. The depressing feeling she had when she left home unbelievably cleared away.

『Never forget that feeling, okay?』

『The feeling that you’ll enjoy anything.』

The memories of Ifalna came flooding back one by one.

Scene 33

"When you fight with a parent, adrenaline builds up in you, doesn't it?" Tifa uttered and seemed to be reminded of something.

"Yeah. That's why I couldn't stop and think about it."

"Yup. I understand."

"I've regrettably hurt people."

Tifa swallowed her breath after hearing Aerith's confession.

Scene 34

A train just pulled in at the platform of the station. That was probably the last train from the plate. Aerith glanced at it sideways and went ahead to try walking past it. This place was where she left her birth mother, and because of that, she still could not look at it directly. She felt as though the scene was still there. Suddenly, thoughts that she would be making a wrong move flashed through Aerith's mind. Was she about to make a grave mistake? The adrenaline she had felt earlier had unbelievably disappeared. The "Special District" was to protect her. Once she crosses the station, she would no longer have the protection. She stood rock still, as though there was an invisible wall ahead of her. Only the surrounding areas of the station were lit up. If she went forth, the road ahead would be dark. She could not see the future.

"Aerith?" a deep voice called out to her.

She turned around to see a large man standing with his back to the station. He had big eyes, a big nose and a big mouth.

"Ahhh!"

"You've totally grown up, haven't you? You look like your mother."

It was Fuzz, and he was wearing the same white coat as that day.

"You've got the wrong person," Aerith lied at the spur of the moment.

Trying to get away from him, she turned her back towards the station and darted towards the darkness. She noticed that Fuzz was following her. She could not stop.

"Aerith, wait up. It's not what you're thinking."

Aerith wondered what other reasons could he try to stop her. She felt that she should not believe him and stop for him. He must have been angry and detest us. She wondered what would happen if he caught her. Aerith no longer knew where she was headed to. She was running along a narrow road, and the surroundings were a mountain of trash. By any chance...

"Jean! X!"

There was no response. Even if this were their scrapyard, they wouldn't be there at this hour. But she could not help calling out to them.

"Ahh!"

Aerith stumbled into something big and soft and fell. The suitcase she held dropped to the ground with a thud, signalling that it broke.

"Ouch..."

She did not know what was in the middle of the road at first, but it was the carcass of a dead monster. There was an unidentifiable sound coming out from it. It died not long ago. Its bodily fluids reached Aerith's feet and hands, and she felt a stinging sensation.

"You don't have to worry. That's harmless."

It was Fuzz. She looked up at him on her bottom. He was as big as she remembered him when she was seven. She noticed that the hem of her skirt was very crumpled, and she hurriedly fixed it. She looked for an opportunity to stand up and back away.

"Aerith, how could you do this to me? I've been worrying about you since then. Ever since you ran away from Shinra, I've been wondering if you've been living in terrible conditions. I heard about this from Amber, whom you met today."

"Amber!?"

Amber. Aerith met her in the evening, and she was introduced as Rodin's lover, and they were to be married. She had an angry face. Aerith then connected Amber to Fuzz.

"Looks like you don't remember her. She was the friend who unloaded you both from the cargo train at the Sector 4 Slums Station."

"Ahh!"

So Amber was the grumpy-looking woman in the dirty work clothes that day.

"I heard from her about where you were, and I hurriedly came over to find you. But what a close call. We almost didn't cross paths. I'm sure it was Ifalna who brought us together."

Aerith slowly stood up. Fuzz took two steps back, perhaps to assure her that he was not a threat.

"Are you going to church, by any chance?"

"What?"

"I've talked to Ifalna about it before. She seemed to be very interested in it. When I told her I'd take her there someday, she said she definitely did not want to go. After you both disappeared, I went to look for both of you several times at the church, just in case you were both there. I prayed, but in the end, it seemed to me that there was no God."

A roar of a beast could be heard somewhere.

"That's from a monster. Here's the danger zone, especially at night. Shall we go to the church? Since we came all the way here anyway. It's not too far off from here, and it's nearer than the station."

It seemed that Aerith ran away further than she thought.

"But..."

"I see. Are you more afraid of me than the monster?"

She nodded honestly. He should already know how she was behaving towards him, and there was no point in pretending.

"Well, I'll just walk ahead then, and you can keep a distance and follow me. If a monster comes up behind you, run away on your own. We can’t expect the vigilante corps to be here at this hour. And I must warn you, don't expect me to put up a good fight too. Just because I'm huge doesn't mean I'm strong."

With a thin smile, Fuzz walked away. His big white back disappeared into the darkness. Fuzz was right. She did not dare to go back alone on the monster-infested road. Just because they didn't appear on the way here doesn't mean they won't appear on the way back.

"Watch out!" Fuzz's voice came from a long way in front. "The monster is dead, but it's still fresh. Don't step on it."

↞↠

The "soon" was somewhat a lie, wasn't it? They had walked so far that she was doubtful of Fuzz, and after passing the carcass of the third monster, which was still fresh, they finally came to the front of the church.

"I wonder who brought them down?" Fuzz wondered as he walked up the stone steps and approached the door of the church. It was a big door. The style of the building was unlike anything Aerith had ever seen before. She could not see the entire structure even if she was looking up. She wondered what it would look like in daylight. The door opened with a squeak. Fuzz beckoned to her, and he went in. Aerith then went up the stone steps. A light, sweet scent wafted over from the church. It was a smell that Aerith knew. The inside was pitch black, but the floor at the back was slightly white.

"Look, the flowers bloom here. Regardless of whether there is a God or not, this is a special place," Fuzz said.

Aerith thought the same. Flowers bloom in special places. The same scent from the Gainsborough garden surrounded her, and she was soon faced with feelings of regret. She wondered what Elmyra was doing—wondering if she was looking for her daughter, who ran away from home. She wondered if she was going in the direction of Wall Market, taking the word of her acquaintance and believing him blindly.

"You can sleep on the bench near the flowers. I'll be near the exit.

"Thank you."

Aerith was not sleepy at all, but she did as he suggested and sat down on a bench near the flowers. She let out a big, quiet breath and felt every stiffness in the muscles of her body relax. She must have been tenser than she had realised. She felt like she was about to really fall asleep. She had to think of something. She wondered what would have happened if she had come to this church that day with her mother, Ifalna. What if the adventure had continued until the end? What would she have worked as? With little knowledge about the world, what would she have done? Would they have been able to live together on good terms? No matter how close they were, would they have disagreements? Since they were a real parent and child, would no problems arise?

"Aerith."

A voice came from a distance.

"Yes?”

"The house at Sector 3, it's still there. I've continued paying the rent since then."

"I see."

"Would you like to live together?"

She wondered what he just said to her. What did he mean?

"You'd like me to live together with you?"

There was no response.

"Fuzz?"

As she stood up fearfully, she saw that Fuzz was right next to her.

"Yeah. Let's live together, ‘I..fal...na…’"

Fuzz smiled. The pupil in his eyes seemed like it was not looking anywhere. A big hand reached out slowly towards her.

"Come here."

He was going to grab her! Aerith tried to take the suitcase and run. However, he caught her by the arm.

"Let go of me!"

She slammed the suitcase into Fuzz's face as hard as she could. Fuzz flinched. The handle broke, the suitcase came off and flew off somewhere.

"You're heartless, Aerith."

She did not care and ran away. Weaving her way between the benches, she ran for the door. Fuzz jumped over the benches and gave chase.

"Wait!"

There was no way she was waiting. The door was already nearby. She had to exit and run away. And what should she do after escaping? Fuzz knows where she stays. Amber, without a doubt, told him about Elmyra's house. Even if she ran away now, Fuzz would show up eventually. What should she do? Would she always have to live in fear? As long as Fuzz was around...

And Aerith eventually darted out of the door.

"Eh?"

Elmyra was there in front of her, dressed in her usual clothes as though nothing was wrong. Her face changed from surprised to relieved, and her facial expression changed a few more times. Finally, she turned serious.

"Aerith, move aside."

"Huh?" Fuzz sluggishly came out of the building, "Who’s out there?"

Elmyra hammered his throat with her weapon with all of her might. Fuzz let out a shriek of pain, collapsed and laid down motionlessly. Aerith was shocked to see what weapon Elmyra was using. It was a broom, and it seems that she had brought it here.

"Shall we go home?"

"Okay."

"You didn't leave anything behind?"

"Ah..."

She forgot her suitcase. There was something important inside of it.

"Quickly go get it."

"Okay."

She went back into the darkness of the church and went over to the flowers. She looked around and immediately saw a suitcase. The lid was open, and its contents were scattered outside. She gathered up the scattered clothes and put them back in the case, but she could not find her "treasure"—the pouch containing the materia.

"What are you doing?" Elmyra called out to Aerith, her voice audibly contained irritation.

"I can't find that materia."

Elmyra mumbled in annoyance and crouched down to join Aerith in finding it.

"It's in a little pouch made out of cloth."

"I know."

It's true. Elmyra knows everything about her.

"But, how did you know I was here?" Aerith asked while searching for the pouch.

"That's what I'd like to know too."

"Eh?"

"I knew that you ran away, and I soon went out of the house too. I thought about where you'd have gone as I ran. And then, while I was in the garden, I knew that you would have gone to the church on the outskirts of the slums."

"Why?"

"It just somehow came to my mind. Ever since you came to the house, I've had several strange experiences. I thought that it was this sort of experience again. So I went back home again and did some preparations before coming over."

"And what you prepared was a broom?"

"I wasn't exactly calm, you know. But it was useful, wasn't it? Look, Aerith, over there."

Elmyra pointed towards the densely grown flowers. In the middle laid the pouch that they were searching for. She parted the flowers away to not step on them, picked up the pouch and looked inside. The materia seemed to be glowing brighter than usual.

Aerith turned around to look at Elmyra and was about to ask her shall they go back.

Elmyra was seated on the bench, and she was praying. She had her hands clasped at her chest, and her eyes were closed. The sight of her took Aerith's breath away.

"I used to give thanks like this when I was a child," Elmyra said, opening her eyes as she stood up.

She seemed embarrassed by it.

"Is it different from a prayer?"

"It's different today."

"Who did you thank?”

"Whoever told me about this place. Well, let's head out of here."

Elmyra started to walk, and Aerith followed her behind.

"Mum."

"Yes?"

"I'm hungry."

"Aerith, you’ve been talking to me normally since just now, but I'm angry with you. When I get home, you will face the music and hear everything I want to say."

"Okay～"

Both of them were completely distracted.

Fuzz had regained consciousness and was hiding behind the door. Firstly, he kicked Elmyra and sent her flying.

"Mum!"

Fuzz tried to rush over to Elmyra and was drawing near her. She dodged his grasp, picked up the broom that she had dropped, turned around and struck the big man. However, the handle snapped right in half.

"Aerith! Come over here!" Elmyra called out to her.

Aerith ran towards her in panic. She saw Elmyra holding a gun with both hands and pointing it at Fuzz. That was the gun that Carlo had left behind. Fuzz stopped in his tracks and stared at the muzzle of the weapon.

"You take one more step, and I'll shoot you."

"Why don't you understand me!?" Fuzz yelled as he came towards them.

A shot rang. Elmyra had fired the gun. The dry sounds of gunshots echoed in the air. How many shots did she fire? Finally, they only heard the metallic click of the trigger.

"Ifalna..."

Fuzz approached them as if nothing had happened. His lab coat was terribly stained, but there was no sign that a bullet had hit him.

"I can't believe this gun didn’t do shit!" Elmyra swore and threw her gun at Fuzz, but it flew well over the big man's head.

"Mum, let's run already..."

A bang was heard, and it was a sharp sound that cut through the air. Aerith did not know what it was until she looked at Fuzz. He was holding his left shoulder with his right hand and moaning. His blood was running on his white coat as he had been shot in the shoulder. Who had shot him? From where? Aerith looked around, but there was no shooter in sight.

"Let's go," Elmyra uttered in an awfully calm manner.

Fuzz collapsed and was writhing in pain. Aerith was not fearful anymore. He just looked so pathetic now.

"I'm sorry."

"Aerith, let's hurry."

Without delay, Elmyra started walking, holding the broken broom with both her hands. At last, Aerith apologised to Fuzz once more. She then proceeded to hug her handleless suitcase and chased after Elmyra.

"Hey, Mum. I wonder who shot him."

"I'm guessing this, but the 'Special District' probably expanded."

Ah. That makes sense. As they walked on, Aerith looked around her surroundings, searching for a black suit. Just for tonight, she felt that she could give them her thanks.

Scene 35

"What happened to Fuzz after that?" Tifa asked with a concerned look on her face.

"I never saw him again. Though, till now, I still get nervous when I see someone big."

"I see."

Whenever Aerith thought about Fuzz, she would still have mixed feelings about him. She did not want to see him again. However, she also carried guilt. Fuzz became like that because of what Ifalna and her did to him. If she never pondered about this, these feelings of guilt would continue for a long time. She wondered if she would ever get the chance to atone.

"You can talk to me about everything, okay?" Tifa assured her.

Aerith was delighted by her compassion. She wanted to tell her more.

"Well then, next up is a big one!"

"You gotta be kidding me. There's something bigger than whatever you said?"

"For that, you're right. It's about my first love."

"Oh, that's definitely something big!"

―It sounded like someone walked into the cargo hold. Tifa seemed to notice it too. They put their index finger to their lips and looked at each other. The sound of footsteps was coming closer, coming from the other side of the cargo wall. Tifa moved noiselessly to the gap in the cargo. It looked like she was waiting for the owner of those footsteps.

The time passed slowly but surely, and the footsteps came to a stop.

"It's me."

It was the voice of Cloud Strife. Tifa's expression softened.

"I'll tell you next time. About the story of my first love," Aerith whispered to her.

Cloud walked in front of them and looked at both of them with a dubious look. He made a face as though he was investigating them, and he looked ridiculous. Aerith and Tifa burst into laughter, trying to keep their silence.

-fin- ↞↠ You’re on page 142/142 of Aerith’s segment of the Light Novel Word Count: 29322 The End. Thanks for the reading! Translator’s Note Previous Scenes: Scenes 22-27 Back to Content Page (click/tap here) Final Fantasy VII Remake: Traces of Two Pasts Episode 1 — Tifa (Coming Soon) Episode 2 ― Aerith Coda: The Investigation Unit Within the Painting follow @istanleyff7 on twitter for updates support the TOTP translation project financially here (click/tap here)

#ff7 ffvii ff7r ffviir FF7RLN aerith

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bloodorangesoup · 3 years

Text

Work Song | B.B.

Request: Have you ever heard work song by hozier? It gives me such bucky vibes 🥺 like imagine him waking up from a nightmare & singing it to calm him down

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2.05k (this was supposed to be a drabble but I got carried away lol)

Warnings: Slight angst, fluff, bad singing (unless you can actually sing), Bucky being a big softy

My Masterlist

Notes: Anon you need to name yourself cause you obviously have good taste in music and I kinda want some moots on here. This song is so perfect for Bucky. I truly appreciate the suggestion, it gives me inspiration of what to write while procrastinating on works in progress <3

You were awoken when the sheets and comforter were yanked off of you, shocking you awake with the chill of the night air. You squinted your eyes open only to be faced with Bucky’s back as he was sat up in bed. You could see by the rhythmic curling of his spine that he was breathing fast and heavy, prompting you to sit up with him.

“Baby,” you groaned as you stretched your back and faced him, “you alright?”

His eyes stared forward, expressionless, until he snapped out of it and looked at you with a worried face. It was almost as if Bucky hadn’t even noticed you had sat up until he heard your voice. You wanted to kiss in between his eyebrows to smooth the lines that the furrow of them had formed. You leaned towards him and laid your hand on his back, feeling the expansion and deflation of his breathing, it had calmed a bit but you could feel the still rapid beating of his heart. He opened his mouth for a second, hesitating before releasing a breath and answering.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m okay. Sorry I woke you up. There's still a couple hours left before you have to get up, lay back down.” He said, motioning with his head towards your pillow. You simply shook your head and dragged your hand from his back up to his neck and around to his cheek. He leaned his head into your cupped palm, closing his eyes at the comfort your touch gave him.

“Can we cuddle then?” You asked, more for him than you. It was an unspoken declaration in the air of “you’re a terrible liar,” but by now in your relationship, Bucky knew that if he wanted to talk about his nightmares, you were always there and ready to listen. If he didn’t want to talk then you could at least try to get him back to sleep or calm his nerves.

He answered you with a nod. You grabbed his pillow and stacked it on top of your own, giving you a cushion to comfortably lay down with your back slightly elevated. He understood what to do and without hesitation crawled over to you and wrapped his arms around your torso, laying halfway on top of you and resting his cheek on the top of your breast, right over your heart. Both your bodies shifted a few times until they found the perfect interlock with each other, sinking down into the bed.

“Do you remember that song I showed you the other day, the one you said you really liked?” You didn’t know where you were trying to go with this conversation, but you figured that getting him sleepy again would be hard, so talking about whatever came to your head might help put him down. Bucky could feel the vibrations of your voice all throughout your chest. He wished in that moment that the two of you could stay like this forever, that he could feel your sweet voice like this for the rest of his life.

“The “take me to church” one?”

“Yeah, that one. The dude who sings that has another song I really love, it makes me think of you whenever I hear it.”

“What’s it called?” He mumbled weakly. You gave him a squeeze and continued.

“Work Song.”

“Hmm,” Bucky hummed against your chest, waiting a moment before speaking, “could you sing it for me, doll?”

“If you want, but I can’t promise it’ll sound pretty,” you answered with a breathy chuckle. You wanted to comfort Bucky, but you definitely weren’t a singer. It was difficult enough to be in tune with songs, you weren’t sure you could even manage with half his body resting on you.

“It doesn’t have to sound pretty, if you sing it it’ll be perfect. Please?”

It took Bucky a long time to be okay with asking for things and accepting that receiving favors didn’t equate to weakness. You knew that him asking you to do this for him was hard and you weren’t going to let him down.

“Alright.” You cleared your throat and breathed in before exhaling quickly, cutting the words out of your mouth as your brain tried to think of how the song goes.

“Well, it starts with a low piano note and this soft clap, and there's a harmony that goes ‘hmmm, hmm mmm’ and then another clap and ‘hmm mmm’,” you explained, emphasizing every clap with a light tap if your hand on his back. You looked down at him and lifted your other hand, weaving yo fingers through his hair to gently move back and forth over his scalp. You looked back up to the ceiling with your eyes open, imagining how the stars would look if the roof was gone.

“And that part goes on for a bit…” you said into the silence of the room. As you explained, Bucky had shifted his head to rest the underside of his chin flush against your chest and looked up at you. Due to the way your face looked up he couldn’t see it completely, but he could see how the light of the moon pouring into the room cast a glow across your cheekbones and jaw. He watched as you fumbled through the intro, trying to explain to him how the different sounds come together, and he swore you had never looked more beautiful.

He drank in the way the hums of the song rattled under his chin, how you would pause for a few moments trying to think of what came next in the song. He felt your heartbeat against his throat and the rise and fall of your chest with every breath you would take before letting out another hum. He was right, you could be singing any song and it would be perfect.

“And then he starts singing, he goes,” you took in a breath before singing.

“‘Boys, workin' on empty

Is that the kinda way to face the burning heat?

I just think about my baby

I'm so full of love I could barely eat’

“‘There's nothin' sweeter than my baby

I'd never want once from the cherry tree

'Cause my baby's sweet as can be

She give me toothaches just from kissin' me’.”

He noted how the corners of your mouth tilted upward at that last line. You weren’t singing it exactly as the song went, the melody was a bit off and the pitch was much lower than it was supposed to be, but Bucky felt like every word you sang floated out into the world, carrying its refreshing life and coolness into his soul.

“And then there's this really deep bass note that hits and then the chorus goes,

“‘When, my, time comes around

Lay me gently in the cold dark earth

No grave can hold my body down

I'll crawl home to her’.”

Bucky thought of how he always seemed to crawl back to you. For once, he didn’t feel guilty for his presence in your life. He relished in the feeling of having you under him, in the knowledge that of all the people in the world, you would let him crawl home to you. If he had to crawl to someone, he would thank any and all higher powers that it was you.

“And then the song gets lighters and the hums come back,” you mumbled.

“‘Boys, when my baby found me

I was three days on a drunken sin

I woke with her walls around me

Nothin' in her room but an empty crib’

“‘And I was burning up a fever

I didn't care much how long I lived

But I swear, I thought I dreamed her

She never asked me once about the wrong I did’.”

Memories swirled around in Bucky’s head of all the times he felt like ending it all. He knew he was perfectly capable of doing it, but there was always a stubborn sliver of hope splintered in his head that prevented him from going through with anything. He didn’t like to think back to those times, but hearing the words leave your lips made it clear to him that you were the sliver of hope, some force of the universe had kept him around long enough to reach you and hold on. He closed his eyes and listened as you gently worked through the chorus twice more.

“‘My babe would never fret none

About what my hands and my body done

If the Lord don't forgive me

I'd still have my baby and my babe would have me’.”

Bucky’s brows furrowed as he thought of how unconditionally you cared for him. You weren’t blind to the troubles that came with loving someone like him, with accepting what he did and offering him sanctuary from himself. He didn’t know if he would ever be sure of the idea that he deserved love, but he was okay with being selfish if it meant having you by his side.

“‘When I was kissin' on my baby

And she'd put her love down, soft and sweet

In the low lamp light, I was free

Heaven and hell were words to me’.”

Tears had started to well in Bucky’s eyes. He looked up once again at your face, delicately bathed in moonlight, and thought of how he looked in the light, how you both looked together in the light. If you looked so beautiful and lovely, maybe he could too. He didn't feel exposed or ugly, he felt safe, he felt free. He was overwhelmed with emotion. His heart was pounding and he was choked up, he had never felt as completely and dramatically in love with you as he did in that moment.

You wrapped up the song, carrying it out with the same hums and claps that brought it in. Looking down, you saw Bucky’s face buried in the space between your breasts and could hear a sharp intake of breath, indicating that he was crying. You ran your hand that had been tapping his back up and down his spine. You took your hand from his hair and used it to push his disheveled hair out of his eyes and off his forehead, causing him to look up at you.

To Bucky, you looked like an angel. You both laid in silence, looking into each other's eyes, while Bucky simply hugged you closer and let his tears fall freely. You leaned down and placed a few gentle kisses on his forehead. He finally settled his breathing and sniffled a few times before speaking, he was ready to talk.

“I’ve killed enough people,” he sniffled before continuing, his voice croaky, “I’ve killed enough people to give me nightmares for the rest of my life.” He sighed and closed his eyes, feeling too shameful to keep looking at you.

You sank down lower in the sheets and tightened your hold on him, bringing his face and body up and closer to you.

“I’m so sorry, Buck. I wish there was more I could do.” You finally let go of the few tears building in your eyes, letting them roll down your cheeks to the corner of your lips.

“You’re here. You love me. That’s all I need,” he let out with a sob. You nodded your head and tugged on his body, signaling to him to come up.

He shifted himself higher in the bed, his face coming parallel to yours. You snaked your hand around his neck and craned him to look into your eyes. You observed the glassiness of them and how it accentuated the bright blueness within them. You thought of how, even when he was sobbing, he looked more beautiful than ever.

“I love you so much, y/n” he whispered with shaky breaths.

“I love you too, Buck, more than anything.”

You pulled him completely into you, your swollen lips gliding against one another, mixing your salty tears. You brought your hands to the sides of his face, rubbing your thumbs over his cheekbones, feeling how beautiful he was even with your eyes closed. You both pulled back slowly, only far enough to rest your foreheads together.

“I love you.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #Spotify

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marsbutterfly · 3 years

Text

Skyfall

Summary: When you are hired to kill the most dangerous mafia boss, things get a little complicated.

Wattpad Version! | AO3 Version!

|◁ II ▷|

“This is the end

Hold your breath and count to ten

Feel the Earth move and then

Hear my heart burst again”

7:34pm

The clock on your wrist tics quietly but in the silent room, it nearly sounds like bombs being dropped from above. Not a word is exchanged between you and the man sitting across the room but you know exactly what he wants.

In his hand rests a dark colored suitcase, you can barely tell until the light hits his belt ever so gently but you finally see the gun he’s been carrying.

You take a deep breath, getting up for your seat. The sound of your heels clicking on the floor fills the atmosphere as you walk towards him, the smirk on his lips is undeniable and you don’t understand what he has to be smiling about.

He stands up a second after you and walks in your direction, bumping against you and dropping his suitcase and the papers in his hand. In response, you throw on the floor the suitcase you once held.

The man apologizes profoundly as you help him collect the papers on the floor. You say over and over that it is ok, while all the curious eyes in the room land on you. As you stand up, you hand him the suitcase you once had in your hand and he nods, thanking you for the help and apologizing one last time.

You begin to make your way back to your car, the smirk on his lips still engraved in your brain as a chill travels down your spine. “Why was he smiling?” You ask yourself not wanting to admit it but you are a bit scared of knowing the answer.

Though once you open the suitcase, you understand why. Inside, rests the pictures and information of your next target, the millionaire leader of an enemy gang. Though you don’t enjoy taking sides, you’ve been paid a large amount of money to take her out, more than you have ever made.

The war between these two gangs has been going on for the longest time and you have killed enough people on both sides to earn a fair amount of enemies, but this time you couldn’t help but feel a sinking hole opening in your heart.

Hanji Zoe has always been the deadliest member of the underground group. Her kill count is even higher than yours, at least 500+ heads under her belt. They say her torture methods surpass even the ones they use in hell.

She’s known as the Devil herself.

“For this is the end

I've drowned and dreamt this moment

So overdue, I owe them

Swept away, I'm stolen”

8:15pm

Your keys unlock the heavy doors of your house and somehow the marble floors feel colder than ever. Your shoes rest in their designated spot by the coat holder and you throw the suitcase on the couch.

Two cups rest on the counter near the bar area inside your home. One of them contains what you assume is whisky, due to the color and the amount of ice in the cup, it has always been her favorite after a work day.

The lipstick marks are fresh meaning she has just now gotten home. Upon paying closer attention, you realize the shower is on and steam is coming out of the bathroom. You think about joining her but ultimately decide to have a drink first, trying to forget about your next target.

Gently, you take two rocks of ice and place them in the clean cup specifically placed out for you. Pouring yourself a single shot of whisky, you walk towards the balcony feeling as the cold air of the night hits your face.

You knew this day would come but you hoped it would take longer.

Deep in your own thoughts, you don’t realize the water has been turned off in the bathroom and wet footsteps approach your body.

It’s not until her wet arms wrap around your black dress that you realize you are no longer alone. Her face is buried in your back and you can see steam leaving her arms as the hair on her skin stands up.

The tattoo of your initials on her hand still brings butterflies to your stomach. The memory of the night she got it is still one of your favorite moments you spent together, especially since it was after your first date and she told you she knew you were the one.

“I missed you.” She says, placing a kiss on your skin. You can feel as her breasts are pressed against you and a gasp leaves your body.

“I missed you too.” You reply, a disobedient tear rolling down your face as you chug the contents of the cup in your hand.

“What’s wrong?” She asks, placing her hand on your waist as she turns your body around so you can face her. She is a few inches taller, nothing too extreme but enough to make you look up at her gently.

Her thumb brushes the tear on your cheek before rubbing it above your lips. You take a deep breath, gathering the courage to tell her the news you just received.

“You are my next target.” You say and Hanji nods, a sad smirk on her lips.

“Let the sky fall

When it crumbles

We will stand tall

Face it all together”

9:00pm

The brush goes through her hair with ease for the first time, as if she took care of the tangles in the shower already knowing what the news you were bringing would be. After shower moments were the ones where Hanji was the most vulnerable.

She would simply close her eyes and appreciate the attention she’s been given as she fades in the echo of your voice. You hum a melody quietly, Hanji’s favorite song in the hopes to bring her any comfort at all.

Your tears drip down your nose onto her scalp as you put her hair in a ponytail, attempting to help her get ready for the party she will be attending in an hour. At the highest floor of the second tallest building in the entire city.

“How are you going to do it?” She asks, lighting a cigarette and blowing the smoke up in the air while trying to make rings out of it. You giggle, touching her shoulders before sliding your hands down her arms.

You notice the goosebumps rising on her skin and can’t help but smile at how she reacts to your touch. “Must we talk about it?”

“I need to know.” She replies and you nod, sighing heavily while finally agreeing to talk about the elephant in the room.

“I’ll be on the roof of the Paradise building. I am pretty sure they will send someone to watch me do it.” You begin, spraying the bottle of perfume around her and noticing as the drops of liquid fall on her tan skin, masking the smell of the cigarette.

“But they might not.” She says and you shrug your shoulders.

“They might not.” You say quietly.

“I wouldn’t expect any less from this city’s top 1 assassin.” She says, taking your hand in hers and planting a soft kiss on your palm, leaving behind the red mark of her deep colored lipstick.

She stands up, allowing the robe to fall to the floor and reveal her naked body. You can’t look away from the perfect shape of her breasts, the line that goes through her abdomen from a previous surgery and all of her battle scars.

“Make me yours one last time.” You say, pulling your shirt above her head as you expose yourself to her and she nods, a devious smile curling up on her lips.

You see a few old bullet wounds, some healed while others are still healing. Every single one of them tells a story about who she is and how she has lived her life but your favorite story has always been the one of how she lost her eye.

It was three years ago, the day you met. How could you ever forget?

“Let the sky fall

When it crumbles

We will stand tall

Face it all together

At Skyfall”

Since you were a teenager, you’ve been good at killing. First your shitty parents and every family member who sided with them, including your own brother and sister. Finally being able to control your life, you decided to make a living out of it.

This career put you through college where you earned a chemistry degree, learning how to mix your personal kinds of poison, some of which no one has ever even heard of which makes it hard for the police to find who was responsible for it.

At first, you would go for basic targets: rapists, animal abusers, anyone who dared hurt another soul but word got out of how excellent and quick you were at your job and your number of clients tripled and your name was in everyone’s mouth.

One day, you got a call from a blocked russian number. A smile creeped on your lips as you heard a familiar voice over the phone, Erwin Smith. The man who gave you a chance to grow in this life and made you who you are today, your mentor.

“Y/N, I’m dying.” He says, his voice is faint and you notice his life force is fading away.

“I can tell.” You reply trying to lighten the mood and he laughs.

“Will you still work for the next boss?” He asks, coughing out a liquid which you could only assume was blood.

“If that is your dying wish.” You respond and he hums in agreement over the phone, “Then yes.”

Later that week, two men showed up to your house to escort you to Erwin’s funeral. The rain poured over his coffin, hiding away the tears of those who loved him.

Surrounded by at least five men sat a woman in a black coat, her eyes looking in your direction as she took the cigarette to her lips. The tattoos on her leg on display for anyone to see, you could’ve sworn she was silently flirting with you.

And in a moment of weakness, a car drove by shooting up the place completely. Of course they were received with a buffet of bullets as well, but nearly a third of the people around the casket were now dead.

As a bullet makes its way towards you, the brunette with danger in her eyes rushes forward to protect you only to receive the bullet with a glass platter. Needless to say, an uncountable amount of shards found their way into her eyeball.

While she bled in your arms, you tried to make sure she remained awake.

“What’s your name?” You ask and she smiles, bringing your hand towards her lips and licking your thumb with a palpable sexual energy.

“Hanji. Hanji Zoe.” She replied, “The new boss.”

“Skyfall is where we start

A thousand miles and poles apart

Where worlds collide and days are dark

You may have my number, you can take my name

But you'll never have my heart”

10:05pm

Once you are finished redoing Hanji’s hair, she stares at the closet before finally picking out a blood colored suit. No shirt underneath, she places the blazer right above her nipples, only enough to cover them while allowing the rest of her breasts to be exposed.

You on the other hand plan to dress yourself in a completely black outfit hoping to blend into the darkness of the night. Luck was on your side for there were no stars to brighten the sky, allowing you to take complete cover.

As far as you know, nobody is aware of your relationship with Hanji, not even her subordinates. Keeping business away from your private life has always been a priority, even before you committed your first paid killing.

She places a final kiss on your hands and one of your lips, though it does not feel like a goodbye and you sadly accept any kind of comfort you can find.

When her car is out of view, you decide to go up and take a shower by yourself. You wanted to decline this job, to throw everything away: your reputation, the money and simply run away with Hanji to a place where you could live your lives.

But you can’t. Before even knowing who your targets are, you are always made to sign a consent form and if broken, it would cost you your life.

The warm water hits your face and you can still smell Hanji’s strawberry shampoo in the air mixed with the fading smoke of her cigarettes. You begin to remember every shower you spent together, every kiss you shared at the most exquisite places around the world.

Hanji always knew how to make you feel like the luckiest girl in the world. Eventually, you can no longer if the water streaming down your face comes from the shower or your tears.

As you finish your shower, you begin to get ready. The black outfit had never been colder and the unsettling feeling at the pit of your stomach still remains. While putting a mask above your face, you look at your rifle.

It has your initials and Hanji’s secretly carved on the side and on the other it has the date you started dating. A good luck charm, as she liked to call it.

Tonight will be a fucking awful night.

“Let the sky fall (let the sky fall)

When it crumbles (when it crumbles)

We will stand tall (we will stand tall)

Face it all together

At Skyfall”

1:53am

Hours have passed since you've been sitting at the top of this building by yourself, looking through the binoculars at the party happening not too far away. In the end, they decided not to send anyone to watch over your shoulder as you do your job.

The richest and most powerful people in town were all attending and, even though they wore masks, you could still tell exactly who they were. The years of analyzing and recognizing targets from afar has given you the extraordinary ability to identify covered faces.

By the bar, you see her as she rests her arm on the glass top. She looks beautiful. Her whiskey brown eyes match the liquid in her cup as the black mask covers her features. For a second, you could’ve sworn she looked directly at you.

The instructions were clear: at 2am, a single bullet should be shot directly to her head, killing her instantly. So you position your gun, looking through the lense as Hanji disappears in the crowd for a bit before returning to her usual spot.

You sigh, stopping the tears that attempt to cloud your vision. Your finger slowly moves towards the trigger, as if time itself is desperately trying to stop you from killing your loved one, but it doesn’t matter. No one could stop you now.

Counting the seconds, you make sure the shot to her head is clear and you pray she won’t suffer at all. “Goodbye, my love.”

Time nearly stops once you pull the trigger. You watch closely as the bullet goes through her brain and blood splatters across the clear counter causing every person in the room to desperately run for their lives, not knowing they are all safe.

Only one man stands in the room and he raises his glass at you for he is the only one who knows no more shots will be fired. The asshole who hired you to kill the love of your life. Fucking Zeke Yeager.

With every ounce of your body, you decide that killing him isn’t worth it. He deserves to live to suffer in the future.

You bring your body back up, beginning to disassemble your rifle. It takes you less than a minute to be on your way and you can hear as police sirens approach the building in front of you.

“Where you go, I go

What you see, I see

I know I'd never be me

Without the security

Of your loving arms

Keeping me from harm

Put your hand in my hand

And we'll stand”

Finally getting back to your house, you throw the bag containing the gun on the couch before plopping your body right beside it, a long sigh escaping your lips.

Your eyes then notice the packed bags, all ready to leave as soon as possible. The clicking of heels comes from the other side of the house and you smirk, rushing your thumb through your lips.

“I feel bad for the lady you hired to die in your place.” You say, turning around and propping your chin on the back of the couch.

“Would you prefer if I had died in her place?” Hanji asks, rushing her hand through her freshly shaved head in an attempt to get rid of any hairs that still remain attached to her.

“Of course not, love.” You reply, walking towards her before taking the glass of wine from her free hand.

“Hanji Zoe is dead and the witness to it is Zeke Yeager himself.” She says, a devious smile on her lips.

You can’t help but link your mouth with hers, tasting the delightful mixture of alcohols she has had tonight. Her hands travel through your body, exploring every inch of your skin before gently brushing against your inner thigh.

You gasp gently, nearly melting in response to her actions. God knows you want to melt but you don’t have time.

“It’s 4:25am, the plane leaves in 35 minutes so we should go.” She says and you nod.

You grab one of the packed bags plus your rifle and she grabs the rest before extending her hand to you, hoping to walk away from this life with you by her side but not before staging your own kidnapping and death, everything so no one would ever look for either of you.

Once done with arrangements, she smiles.

“So where are we going to make our new home?” You ask.

“My home is wherever you are.” She replies and you feel your cheeks getting warm before she continues, “But I was planning the Carribeans.”

“Fuck yes.” Is all you say and she laughs, squeezing your hand as you both say goodbye to the apartment you’ve shared for years. Leaving behind a life of danger to live together in the house of your dreams, far away from all the negativity.

Just you and Hanji. And maybe a few cats and dogs along the way.

“Let the sky fall (let the sky fall)

When it crumbles (when it crumbles)

We will stand tall (we will stand tall)

Face it all together

At Skyfall”

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