#and that's how Scout fell in love | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rafesangelita · 9 months ago

Note

hi victoria!!! i love ur pogue!sweetheart!reader and i was wondering if u could do a lil hurt/comfort thing where one of rafes friends tells reader she talks too much/is too loud and she gets super upset? i’m a super big crybaby and i talk a LOT and i’d love to see how you write how rafey defends n comforts her :,)

warnings: protective!rafe, topper and kelce are pretty mean in this one >:(, rafe defends you <3, sight angst, fluff, rafe being the king of reassurance

a/n: i have personal beef with anyone who tells ppl to quiet down when they’re excited for something, or just naturally outgoing. also idk how to play poker so excuse the way i explained it if it’s incorrect lol

before you, friday nights were always reserved for rafe and his friends, the group of them either going out for a beer or staying in and betting money on card games. but now? rafe spent his friday nights buried inside of you, both of you laughing and kissing each other in the dark until one of you fell asleep first. and rafe wouldn’t have it any other way. his friends however, weren’t very fond of your boyfriend choosing you over them.

which would explain their impromptu visit while you two were mid-makeout session. “so this is why she has you locked away, huh?” you jumped, rafe covering you with a throw blanket as he slipped his shirt on. “what the fuck, guys?!” rafe glared at kelce and topper, your skin hot with embarrassment. “you left the door unlocked, playboy.” topper pushed a twelve pack of beers into rafe’s chest, the pair of friends walking to the kitchen.

“are you okay, baby?” rafe leaned down, wanting nothing more than to sucker punch his idiot friends for making you feel mortified. “i’m in my bra and panties!” you whispered, scrambling up from the couch and running up the stairs to rafe’s bedroom. rafe pinched the bridge of his nose, cursing under his breath before meeting topper and kelce in the kitchen. “y’all should’ve called me or something.” his tone was harsh, kelce holding his hands up defensively.

“she has you so pussy whipped bro, would you have even answered?” no, the answer was no. “it doesn’t matter, you two shouldn’t have walked in like that.” topper scoffed, popping open a can of beer. “chill, man, we just came to see our boy,” kelce slapped rafe’s shoulder, “and beat your ass at poker.” he added. rafe laughed, muttering a ‘not a chance.’ before going upstairs to check on you. “y/n?” you were fixing your disheveled hair, your lips still swollen from your previous activities.

“hey..” you turned, rafe pulling you in for a hug. “why don’t you come downstairs? be my lucky charm for the game we’re gonna play.” you shook your head, recalling topper’s words from earlier; ‘so this is why she has you locked away, huh?’ locked away? really? “i better not, you should go have your ‘bro’ time, i know it’s been awhile..” you smiled, hoping he didn’t catch the way your gaze faltered. he did. “i want you with me.” he pecked the tip of your nose, your eyes shutting momentarily.

“what if they don’t, though?” rafe was already dressing you, waving off your words. “well then they can leave.” he shrugged. you sighed, letting him walk you downstairs where topper and kelce had the game set up on the table. “the girl scout is joining us?” you didn’t miss the way topper exchanged looks with the boy on his right. “yes, she is. is there a problem?” kelce mumbled a ‘no.’, followed by an awkward clearing of his throat.

rafe pulled you onto his lap, the guys starting the game as you rested your head against his chest. you didn’t know a thing about poker, your lips quirking every time your boyfriend shouted excitedly. “there’s no way!” topper slammed his losing cards on the table, “i have nothing!” kelce was getting frustrated, the chances of him winning decreasing with each turn. “if i flip this card and it’s right, i take all of this.” the guys had already put in well over four hundred dollars, the tension in the room incredibly thick.

“with this money we’ll get you that mixer you been wanting, how does that sound?” you nodded, both you and rafe leaning forward in anticipation. as soon as rafe turned his last card over, you screamed, jumping up as topper and kelce heads fell down in defeat. it was the first time you had even opened your mouth tonight, and kelce wasted no time in shutting you down. “calm down, do you really have to be so loud?” your smile dropped, along with rafe’s. “forreal.” topper glared at you before pushing the money in your direction.

“what’s up y’all’s asses? she’s just cheering,” rafe pulled you to his side, “just a reminder that you two came here on your own accord and interrupted us, not the other way around.” in that moment you felt like a little girl again, always having someone to tell you to quiet down and suppress your excitement. you couldn’t help the tears from welling in your eyes, their judgmental looks making you want to disappear. prior to you and rafe being together, topper and kelce had always been nice to you, but all of that seemed to go out the door when your boyfriend stopped participating in their little get togethers.

“we hardly see you anymore, bro, we just don’t understand why she can’t lay off sometimes.” topper looked over at you, his jaw ticking as rafe laughed bitterly. you couldn’t believe your ears. if only they knew how much you encouraged rafe to hang out with them. “has it ever occurred to you that maybe i rather spend my time with my girlfriend than hanging out with you two? get the fuck out of my house.” topper and kelce looked like they were at a loss for words, both of them apologizing to you under their breath.

“and not that it matters anymore, ‘cause you two are so convinced that she has me trapped in her evil lair somewhere, but she encouraged me to come down here by myself before i dragged her along with me. you don’t even know what you’re talking about.” rafe basically pushed them out before shouting, “and i’m keeping the beers assholes!”

rafe shut the front door, making sure to lock it this time before he scooped you up in his arms. “don’t cry, sweetheart, they’re both idiots.” you sniffled, laughing softly. rafe smiled at the fact that he knew how to make you feel better. “talk my ear off while i order that mixer, i love hearing your voice.”

2K notes · View notes

ohproserpine · 1 year ago

Text

iv. dolly

see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, jealousy, possessiveness, alastor does not know how to interpret love, or maybe he does, in his own twisted way, roadkill used as a symbolism, gorey descriptions of love, murder the song she sings is 'roxie' from chicago

˚୨୧₊♱

"Hey!" Charlie's voice rang out as she spotted Mimzy making her way towards the hotel entrance. The blonde froze, casting a nervous glance behind her to see the demon princess rapidly approaching with a worried look that she mistook for anger.

With practiced ease, the blonde put on a fake frown, pressing her hand over her chest. "Oh, Charlie! I'm so sorry for the trouble last night, sugar! I'll pay—"

"No, no! I'm not here for that," Charlie waved her hands with a smile, seemingly oblivious to the slump of relief on Mimzy's shoulders. "Are you leaving so soon? The hotel wouldn't mind taking you in!"

Caught off guard by Charlie's unexpected offer, Mimzy grimaced. She hesitated, opening her mouth before shutting it as she struggled to find the right words. "Oh! Well…you see…"

A laughing track, sounding like it was filtered through a radio, echoed through the air, and Mimzy turned to the source to find Alastor towering over her with his signature grin.

"I don't think redemption is quite her style," Alastor's chipper voice rang out. His clawed hand reached for Mimzy’s hair, plucking a feather from her headpiece. In his hands, the pink ornament erupted into flames. "Frankly, I have my doubts she could even be redeemed at all!"

Horrified, Mimzy watched as her feather fell to the floor in ashes, her hand instinctively reaching for the charred remnants.

"Alastor," Charlie glared at him before turning her attention back to Mimzy. "We believe in redemption for everyone. It's not about what you were; it's about what you choose to be now. We'll be here to support you every step of the way."

"Thanks, sugar," Mimzy forced a smile, waving her hand around daintily. She glanced at the entrance with a subtle wish for escape, playing up the nice act while Alastor continued to watch the scene unfold with a cryptic smile. "But radio here is right. I don't really think it's my style. Different strokes for different folks. Plus, I've got a business to run!"

Alastor hummed, twirling his microphone cane around in his hand. The crimson glow of his eyes narrowed at her as he chuckled. "You couldn't possibly mean that wooden box of debauchery you call a club, right?"

"My 'wooden box of debauchery' has more character than any joint in that city," Mimzy grit her teeth together in a smile, barely concealing her frustration.

As another argument began to form, a throat clearing interrupted the flow, capturing Mimzy's attention. A pink glove slowly rose from the couch and Angel Dust pushed himself off the furniture, sitting up with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"If I may~" Angel Dust chimed in. "You saying you, ah, got a bar? I'm always up for checking out new places. Mind if I swing by sometime, tits?"

Mimzy beamed and sent Alastor a smug look, making her way toward Angel Dust. She reached into her chest, pulling out a card with a flourish. "Of course, kitten! Here's all our information. You'll find us in the Vee district. Feel free to swing by anytime. And don't forget to bring a friend!"

Angel Dust took the offered card, a grin forming on his face. "Bring a friend, huh? You got it, toots."

˚୨୧₊♱

The Vee district, designated as the entertainment hub of Pride, was dazzled with bright neon lights and tall towering buildings adorned with blazing billboards. The streets pulsed with life, where every ten steps brought you face-to-face with street performers desperately vying for attention, hoping to catch the eyes of industry scouts. The message was clear – fame was the ticket to success. Performers were everywhere, found in rundown bars, neon nightclubs, and costly theaters catering to the insatiable appetites of the elite.

Mimzy's Lounge, nestled down east on one of the city's worse-off streets was no fancy stage. The building, weathered and worn, seemed to barely hold itself together. The exterior bore the scars of years gone by, with cracked windows, peeling paint, and near-rotting wooden walls. While it may not have been on the standards of the elite, to the poor and downtrodden, it was the best piece of entertainment they could afford.

Inside, the dim lighting of the bar did little to conceal the stains and cracks that adorned the floor and ceiling. Tables and chairs, mismatched, were arranged haphazardly. The air hung heavy with the smell of cheap perfume, wrapping around the audience—a motley crew of lost souls. On the stage, a couple of scantily clad showgirls were performing a dance routine, or at least their movements vaguely resembled one. The quality of the performance didn't seem to matter to the audience, who, hungry for any form of entertainment, welcomed the spectacle with open arms.

Seated discreetly in the back booths, Angel and Cherri had drawn their curtains tight, creating a cocoon of privacy amid the bustling buzz and thumping music in the club.

"…And check this out – Alastor is hitched," Angel Dust spat out the last word as if it were poison. His face caught the warm, bright lights spilling into their booth, slipping through the small gap in the middle of the curtains. He sipped from his drink, a glint in his eyes. "And the owner here's got some serious dirt on his missus or somethin' like that."

"That why you dragged me to this hellhole? Knew it," Cherri snorted, taking a sip of her cocktail, the sweet and tangy flavors doing little to mask the less-than-pleasant ambiance. "Couldn't believe you'd even want to step into a place like this."

"You know I can't resist a bit of gossip, and where else can you find more gossip than in a joint run by a gal who's got the goods on Alastor himself?" Angel grinned, his golden tooth flashing as he reclined in his torn red chair. "Hell. I bet anyone else would do what I'm doin'. I mean, who wouldn't be tearin' these walls down just to catch a glimpse of the Radio Demon's wife?"

Cherri Bomb let out a throaty chuckle. "Well, you're bloody right there."

A sudden blast of music echoed through the air, prompting Angel Dust to scramble out of his seat and poke his head out from behind the curtain. The previous performers stepped off the stage, making way for the upcoming act. He caught sight of a familiar pudgy figure sauntering onto the stage and hastily turned his head back to the booth, meeting Cherri's amused face. "It's startin'!"

“Welcome, all you devils and darlings, to the Dollhouse Lounge!” Mimzy's voice boomed, and the lights gracefully dimmed to focus on her. The hum of conversation dwindled, the audience's attention now on the stage. “It's the moment you've all been waiting for! The last act of the night… Dolly, the living doll!"

With Mimzy's spirited introduction, the claps and cheers crackled in the air. In an instant, the lights plunged into darkness, leaving Angel to flit his gaze across the smoke-hazed stage, hungry for a glimpse of what was to come. Suddenly, a surge of stage lights sliced through the lingering smoke, akin to a celestial burst, revealing your silhouette with a large signage that spelled out your name in bold, red letters.

Wearing a lovely smile, you spread your arms wide, catching everyone's attention as you sang the first note, voice sultry and dripping sweet like honey. "The name on everybody's lips is gonna be Dolly."

"That's his wife?" Cherri gawked behind Angel, her jaw dropping in disbelief. "Are you sure we got the right girl?"

"Hell, I'm just as surprised as you are," Angel shot back, an equally dumfounded look on his face.

"The lady raking in the chips Is gonna be Dolly," your voice echoed, the melody carrying through the lounge as you strolled towards the stage's platform. The rhythmic beat of the music vibrated against the soles of your heels while the spotlight dutifully trailed after you, its gentle glow caressing the curves of your glittery dress, casting glimmers of silver and gold that danced across the dimly lit bar.

"I'm gonna be a celebrity. That means somebody everyone knows," you continued, sauntering around the stage. As you swirled and twirled, your silhouette became a blur of sequins and shimmer. The spotlight then intensified its focus on you, highlighting the glint in your eyes. "They're gonna recognize my eyes. My hair, my teeth, my boobs, my nose."

"Fuck," Angel muttered under his breath. As you moved closer to the end of the platform, he could finally get a good look at you.

Shimmery blue eyeshadow graced your lids, while a dark blush adorned the apples of your cheeks, complementing the red lipstick you had on. Your dress, a dazzling ensemble of sequins, was not only radiant but also provocatively low-cut, teasingly revealing a glimpse of your chest before gracefully dropping to your knees. Dark silk stockings, sensually tracing the contours of your legs, were held by garters. At your feet, bedazzled red Mary Janes sparkled like jewels, catching the light with every step you took.

As Angel thought back to his conversation with Mimzy, he found himself agreeing with her earlier comments. You really were a living, breathing doll.

"From just some dumb canni-bal’s wife. I'm gonna be Dolly," you continued, seamlessly weaving your magic, each lyric a spell that bound the audience. "Who says that murder's not an art?"

With a spin, you twirled around the stage, a ditzy grin on your face, the sequins on your gown catching the light like stars. "And who, in case she doesn't hang, can say she started with a bang! Dolly Heart!"

As the final notes of the song echoed through the venue, the room erupted in applause and cheers. But, the curtain wasn't falling yet. Standing backstage, Mimzy let the moment linger, reveling in the prolonged applause. After all, happy customers always tipped generously.

On cue, bills and coins descended like a storm, hitting the floor with a crisp sound that mixed beautifully with the cheers of the delighted audience. There was so much that the shower of currency formed a makeshift carpet beneath your feet.

Angel Dust, still peeking from behind the curtain, wore a smirk of approval. "Not bad, not bad at all," he whispered to Cherri, who nodded in agreement.

Standing on the stage, bathed in the lingering glow of the spotlight, you held your pose, chest heaving up and down. A demure smile graced your lips as soft, appreciative nods and fluttering eyelashes accompanied each gaze you cast toward the audience. Tonight's turnout was impressive, though not unexpected given your agreement to perform one of your most famous songs after a prolonged hiatus.

"Dolly" was a beloved crowd-pleaser and the one song you hated with a passion.

The spotlight continued to shine relentlessly in your eyes, causing a painful burn in your irises. The deafening applause felt like a relentless assault on your senses as each clap echoed loudly in your ears. From the speakers, the music blasted in waves, the volume rattling your bones. Showbusiness, a constant companion in both your living and afterlife, had become an achingly familiar yet tormenting cycle.

In the corner of your eye, you saw Mimzy step up onto the stage to address the crowd. "Thank you, my lovely devils and darlings! Wasn't Dolly simply darling tonight?" she squealed through the mic.

The crowd erupted in cheers and applause once more, the energy in the room reaching a fever pitch. Mimzy basked in the adoration, her grin widening as she soaked in the success and the money. Oh, the money.

"I know you loved that!" she laughed. She leaned into the microphone, her voice turning into a whisper "Of course, you all do. I wrote it."

"Now, let's give our star her rest. Dolly, my dear, take a bow!" Mimzy's voice rang out, signaling the end of the performance. Relieved, you bowed before making your way towards the curtains as the heavy fabrics began to descend. After blowing a few more kisses to the audience, you slipped backstage, letting the smile fade from your face. As you vanished from view behind the curtain, Angel caught the look on your face.

It was a look he knew all too well.

"She looks perfectly happy without him," Cherri remarked with a casual shrug. "I mean, look at 'er. She's the star of the show. You think she left on purpose?"

Angel furrowed his brows, deep in thought. It didn't make no sense to him.

Why would you willingly perform under Mimzy's control when Alastor, with his power, could easily get you out of here? Contract or no contract, that radio freak could tear Mimzy apart like a hot knife through butter.

The spider's attention shifted towards the audience, and his gaze locked onto Mimzy, who was engrossed in conversation with some VIPs. The sight of her triggered a scowl to etch itself onto his features.

"I don't think so. There's more to it," Angel's eyes narrowed, the wheels in his head turning, "I've seen that look before."

"What look?" Cherri raised an eyebrow.

"That trapped look," Angel said, his gaze following Mimzy as she continued her animated conversation, oblivious to the scrutiny. "Before the curtains dropped, I saw it on her."

"Shit, Angie," Cherri's gaze followed Angel's, and she pursed her lips. "You think she's playing the part or really stuck?"

Angel Dust stood up straight, now opening the curtains wide as his eyes never left Mimzy. "I don't know, but I'm gonna find out."

Both of them took their time, patiently waiting until Mimzy stepped away. Once the blonde demon finally made her way backstage, they discreetly followed her lead, slipping behind the curtains with her.

The busy backstage corridor welcomed them with an assortment of items – costumes, props, and stage decor – scattered in chaotic disarray. Angel's eyes wandered around, and he spotted Mimzy in a far corner, sitting atop worn cardboard boxes. Nudging Cherri, he gestured for both of them to move closer.

"Hey~ How's it going, blondie?" Angel purred, leaning against a nearby prop, his tone dripping with a sickly sweet tone. Mimzy looked up, confused before she recognized him and flashed a wide grin.

"Hey, you! You're that spider fella from the hotel!" She tapped her chin in thought narrowing her eyes at him. "Uhm, Angle Dust was it?"

"It's Angel Dust," he corrected, a twitch of annoyance in his eye.

"Uh-hah, that's nice," Mimzy seemed unfazed, continuing to count her money, her legs swinging back and forth absentmindedly. "You like the show? Oh, who am I kidding, of course, you did!"

Angel Dust crossed his arms with a chuckle. "Yeah, about that. That girl, Dolly. She's quite a number, ain't she?"

"Oh, yeah. She's my little masterpiece," Mimzy smirked. "Met her before she had any of this."

"Let's cut the fuckin' crap," Cherri rolled her eyes, tired of dancing around the conversation. The cyclops leaned down to Mimzy's height, scowling into her face and driving her finger into the blonde's chest. "I'll say it straight. What's the deal with her? You got some strings attached?"

Mimzy paused and glanced up at Cherri with an arched eyebrow before turning to Angel and laughing tensely. "Your friend here sure is forward, Ankle! Oh, sweethearts, Dolly's here because she wants to be."

Angel Dust shot Cherri a glance, a silent conversation passing between them. "Yeah?"

"The girl signed a contract willingly," Mimzy explained with a casual shrug. "She gets what she wants, and I get what I want. It's a fair exchange."

Angel's eyes narrowed, his skepticism evident. "Contract? What's in it for her, then? Why willingly perform in this dump when she could easily be the star anywhere else?"

The blonde sent Angel a glare for his dig at her lounge but still answered him. "Dolly owes me something. A little debt she's paying off with her charming performances. A contract might sound sinister, but it's just showbusiness, furs." Mimzy leaned back, folding her arms, her expression daring the two of them challenge her further.

"Bull. She sold you her soul to dance and sing?" Cherri scoffed, taking the challenge.

"No, no, there was no soul exchange involved," Mimzy rolled her eyes. "Just a contract. But still binding, magical, and all of that stuff."

"Now, can you two get out of my hair?" Mimzy huffed, shooing them away with a dismissive wave. "I've got a lot of things to run here!" She returned to counting her money, clearly eager to be rid of the unwanted attention.

"Let's go, Cherri," Angel said with a look of defeat, pushing himself off the prop he had been leaning on.

Once the two of them finally stepped out of the establishment, the spider groaned to himself, now finding himself with more questions than answers.

˚୨୧₊♱

You strolled behind the weighty curtains, the backstage area buzzing with the rush of staff, the shouts of managers, and the lingering presence of performers idly awaiting their cues. Navigating through the organized chaos, you directed your steps towards your private dressing room—a sanctuary away from the glaring spotlight.

You threw the door open, entering quickly and slamming it shut behind you, the sudden silence a stark contrast to the clamor and racket outside. Flicking a light switch, the dim glow of a single, flickering bulb hanging from the ceiling revealed the room's worn-out glamour. A vanity cluttered with makeup, costumes haphazardly thrown on a worn-out sofa, and a cracked mirror that had seen better days—all were familiar sights.

"I would kill for a glass of whiskey," you murmured to yourself, the weariness of the performance settling in. Rolling your head and groaning as you heard a satisfying crack, you added, "or maybe a whole bottle of it."

Kicking off your heels, you let the cool floor cradle your skin, leaving the discarded shoes in a dusty corner to rest. Seated at the vanity, the chaotic world beyond the backstage curtains ceased to exist. The gentle glow of the vanity lights exposed the weariness in your eyes as you wiped away your mascara and dusted off the remnants of glitter from your skin. While removing your earrings, the shimmer of your wedding ring caught your eye.

A frown tugged at your lips, the subtle ache of longing surfacing.

You missed your husband.

With a sigh, you continued removing your earrings before tossing them onto your vanity. Seeking to ease the edge, you reached for a whiskey bottle on a nearby dresser, grabbing a glass and pouring yourself a drink. The golden liquid glimmered in the subdued light as you took a sip, the warmth of the alcohol coursing through you.

"C̵h̶e̸r̷?̷"̸

A static rumble of a radio, like thunder, jolted you mid-drink, causing the liquid to catch in your throat. Coughing and sputtering for a while, you scrambled to collect yourself before turning behind you. Your gaze landed on the desk table where your radio sat. The crackling static continued, accompanied by a familiar voice and distorted sounds.

Alastor.

Grabbing a cloth to wipe yourself, you rushed to the desk and grabbed the old radio in your hands. The radio was a faded, worn red with yellowed dials, and its antennas were visibly broken, held up together with scraps of tape. Your contract with Mimzy did not allow you to meet with Alastor or his shadows for as long as you were under her, but that didn't mean you couldn't communicate with Alastor in other ways.

With trembling hands, you carefully adjusted the dials, aligning them to the familiar frequency that bridged the gap between you two. Your heart thrummed in your chest, head almost dizzy from anticipation. The distorted voices began to clear, and Alastor's distinctive voice cut through the static, a lifeline in the abyss.

"Cher, my dear, are you there?" Back in his room at the hotel, Alastor spoke through his mic, awaiting your response. He was sitting by the large windows, bathed in the dim glow of the Ring of Pride's lights. The hues painted a lovely ambiance against his skin, highlighting the contours of his sharp features as he reclined against a plush couch.

Heavy silence lingered for a while as you felt your throat closing up. Without realizing it, you began crying, your sobs echoing through Alastor's microphone.

"Yes, Al," you choked out between sobs, your hands gripping the surface of the radio tightly, nails scratching against the peeling paint. "I'm here. I missed you."

Alastor listened to your tearful voice through the crackling static, his shoulders tense as his claws clenched against his microphone handle. Your vulnerable confession hung heavily in the air, and he felt a storm stirring within him. Unsure of what to do with these emotions, he could only sit there and listen to you weep.

From the busiest street in Pentagram City to the darkest alleyways, Alastor's reputation as a bloodthirsty killer was infamous, and he reveled in it. The idea that an overlord like him could entertain genuine care for someone sounded preposterous. Throughout his human days and beyond, Alastor never felt such sentiments.

Decades ago, he only needed himself. However, ever since you entered his life, he became a man possessed.

The moment he first laid eyes on you, you were a vision of beauty with bright eyes, flushed cheeks, and he couldn't deny that he felt an inkling of fondness for you right from the start. But that was all it ever was—nothing more, nothing less.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, he couldn't help but notice that the glow in your smile was brighter, lovelier. And despite his usual tendency to dismiss such details, Alastor couldn't look away. Not anymore.

You held him captive, like a deer frozen in the blinding glare of oncoming headlights. He was aware the collision was imminent, yet it still caught him off guard; A torrent of emotions crashing into him like a speeding truck, leaving him with twisted limbs and cracking bones, antlers torn from his head, fur matted and bloodied, with his heart exposed, beating vulnerably before you.

In the months that followed, Alastor remembered how foreign the feeling to him was. He didn't want to understand it, refused to, but each attempt to rip those festering emotions out of his chest only left him bleeding.

Looking back, Alastor finds himself incapable of fathoming how life was bearable before you entered it. The mere thought of returning to a time when you weren't present is something he refuses to entertain. The person he used to be, before he stepped into that speakeasy, now feels like a distant stranger, a mere shadow of the man he has become with you in his life.

The static in his thoughts subsided, in tandem with your crying and sobbing dying down. A prolonged pause lingered before Alastor interrupted the silence. "Cher, you know I'd bring you out of that wretched place if you just said the word."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you wiped away tears with your trembling fingers. "You tell me that every time we have these calls. Do you not get tired of it?"

"Never," Alastor hummed. The sound of your laughter, even tinged with bitterness, momentarily lifted the heavy burden that his heart carried. "The offer will always be up, darling!"

"You know I can't, Al. Me and her have history together," your voice paused, cracking with emotion. "And I still feel guilty."

Alastor sighed heavily, frustration dancing in his eyes. He always struggled to understand why you felt indebted to Mimzy, why guilt still clung to your decisions like a persistent shadow.

To him, Mimzy deserved the consequences. Despite his constant offers to free you from her grasp, you remained steadfast in your decision to complete your contract

"Very well, dear," Alastor's smooth voice crackled through the radio, weaving a comforting presence into the air as you moved back toward your vanity, taking a seat. "Now, enough of these melancholic talks. Tell me, how was the show tonight?"

"Mimzy had me perform 'Dolly' again," you remarked, a crooked smile playing on your lips. "She's well aware that I despise that song. I mean, really? Have you ever taken a look at the lyrics? It's a bit on the nose, don't you think?"

As your frustrations spilled out, Alastor stood from his seat, staff in hand. Placing it beside his closet, he attentively listened to your words, occasionally responding with chuckles and interjections. He slipped off his monocle, unbuttoned his suit jacket, and then his vest, revealing a well-tailored red undershirt that clung to his lean frame.

"I find the cannibal's wife line rather charming," Alastor smirked, and though he couldn't see it, you rolled your eyes in response.

"Of course you'd enjoy that part," you scoffed, mirroring Alastor's movements on the other side. Shedding the bedazzled dress, you opted for more comfortable attire, draping yourself in a robe.

"What's not to like? It shows the audience that you're my darling wife," Alastor quipped with a smug tone.

"Bushwa. They don't even know it's you. And I don't think anyone thinks highly of some poor fool shackled to a gaudy singer," you snorted. With the radio in tow, you began to pack your belongings into your purse.

"Don't be ridiculous," Alastor's laugh rumbled against the speakers. "My dear, being 'shackled' to you is the most delightful form of imprisonment."

"Such a sap," you scoffed, unable to suppress the smile that spread across your face. Shouldering your purse, you made your way towards the door, ready to leave. However, a sudden memory of a conversation with Mimzy surfaced.

"By the way, did you know Mimzy was planning to have me perform on some talk show?" you shared with Alastor while locking the door to your dressing room. A furrow appeared on your brow as the backstage lights played with shadows, casting a pensive expression on your face. "What was it again… Oh! Yes! Box-2-Nite."

A sudden screech from the radio erupted, its harsh sound reverberating in the hallway. Luckily, no one was around at this hour, and you cringed at the unexpected disturbance. Glaring at the box, you raised your brow. "You scared the living daylights outta me."

Alastor stayed silent for a while, claws digging into the cloth of his coat, ripping the fabric. With a snap of his head to the side, he dropped it to the floor and moved toward his staff, his shadows playing on the intricate patterns of the carpet beneath his feet.

"Do you perhaps mean… Vox-2-Nite?" His voice, usually smooth, carried an edge.

"Is that the name? I thought you hated telev—Oh. Ohhh..." As you ascended to the higher floors of the building, a realization swept over you.

Alastor's relationship with Vox was complicated. It didn't take a genius to see that. If the ceaseless back-and-forths on broadcasts, the turf wars that had casualties matching mass-extinction events, and the hushed gossip circulating among the other performers were anything to go by.

“Small world,” you chuckled, strolling down the hallway that led to the performers' rooms, the echo of your footsteps blending with the distant murmur of conversation. “I’m guessing I shouldn't take her up on the offer?”

"Absolutely not," Alastor practically snarled out, venom dripping from his tongue. The radio in your hand crackled and buffered, a faint golden glow emanating from the dials. "That pompous piece of shit television is nothing but a clout-chasing, mediocre host flitting between this fad and another on his little picture show podcasts."

“I know, love.” With a swift turn of a doorknob, you opened the door to your flat. "I wasn’t… planning… to…”

Your words trailed off, lingering in the air, as you entered the room. Your eyes widened in awe, captivated by the sight of a bouquet of white roses gracefully adorning your bed.

"Alastor," you spoke into the radio, your voice filled with genuine warmth. "Did you send me roses?"

Back in the hotel, Alastor, settled back into his plush couch. The fiery embers of his anger melting away like a fleeting shadow, replaced by the realization that you had discovered his gift.

A soft chuckle came from the radio, "Guilty as charged, cher. "

Your heart fluttered, and you sank onto the bed, dropping the radio on your mattress and taking the bouquet into your hands. The delicate petals felt soft against your fingers as you admired their beauty. White roses, unlike red ones, were so scarce it was difficult to get a hold of.

"Alastor, this is… wonderful," you spoke into the radio, smile so wide your cheeks almost hurt. "Why—How did you even—How did you even manage to find these?"

"Oh, I pulled a few strings," your husband grinned before chuckling, "and a few limbs too."

Your laughter intertwined with his and Alastor listened fondly, finding solace in the melody of your delight.

The day you inked that deal with Mimzy marked the onset of an agonizing pain he had never experienced before. The thought of leaving your sorrowful self under the wretched contract of that avaricious woman had incited a frenzied rage within him, leading to weeks of unbridled slaughters on the streets of hell.

The blood he spilled onto the sidewalks left a stain on the concrete that lasted months.

Fortunately for you and him, the ordeal was nearing its end. Just one more year remained until Alastor could finally reunite with you. After enduring decades of this agony, an additional year seemed like mercy.

"You like it, cher?" Alastor's voice dropped an octave lower, the satisfaction evident in his tone, pleased to bring happiness to your moment.

"Yes," you laugh, cradling the bouquet in your hands. "I like it very much."

˚୨୧₊♱

#calm before the #before the :))#sephiewrites #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor imagine #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x you #hazbin x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel vox

4K notes · View notes

cryptidcasanova · 11 months ago

Text

Lover Boy

Mob!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: It's the Bridgerton carriage scene, but make it mob!Bucky.

Warnings: Angst, light Smut, Language, Possessive Bucky.

3.5k

The poll results are in, and I couldn't help but think this might be a good way to remedy both sides.

You were mortified.

One hand fisted against quivering lips, and the other gripped at your clutch. As if anything else could go wrong tonight. Shaky steps guided you down the carpeted stairs.

There was another gala, another meeting of the power players in town. And it was another night wasted at the hands of James Barnes.

You hated how much you cared for him. You still cared for him even after all the stunts he pulled to pull you away from the Maximoff heir. Always had.

Ever since you were kids, you remembered having that love-sick look in your eyes. You grew up with inner-circle families and were friends with Rebecca, Sarah, and their brothers. And Bucky? Well, shit, he was always there with his dark hair and curious eyes. It was hard not to fall for him.

Even as you grew up, numbing yourself to the reality of the business and the choices that came with it, you couldn't ignore him forever. You knew that Bucky was raised to be powerful, honorable, and frightening. You knew the stories – of all the beautiful women who couldn't tie him down longer than a night or two. You knew how he flaunted some new girl at every event. It was hard not to overhear them whispering among the men.

'What about her?' and the laugh on his hips saying, 'She's just a family friend. Don't worry about her; I'd never be with her like that.'

You knew he would break your heart, and still. You loved him.

Again, mortified.

He was your first kiss on some lonely night when you couldn't help but ask him. But that had been ages ago. He was grown now, the head of the family and the king of his empire.

But there was something different about tonight, something predestined that started long before you stepped outside your door. It started out as Sam's idea weeks before, in the same bar where you ended up every weekend.

He wanted to try and get you to mingle among the local 'rabble-rousers' as if he pretended not to be one of them. Your laugh at his suggestion pulled Steve and Bucky's attention from across the bar.

"You want me to do what, exactly?" You teased. "Throw myself in the way of wealthy investors and scout out the competition? That's much more up Nat's alley; there's a reason why they call her the Black Widow, you know –"

"No, nothing like that," he shook his head, that charming grin on his lips. Once Sam got an idea, it took a lot of work to dissuade him. "Look, there's more to this life than watching shipments and making small talk with the hens in town." He paused, knowing all the time you spent logging backorders and saving face with the mercs' wives. "I want you to be happy. We all do."

You leaned against the bar, pressing your palms against the hardwood.

"So you think it's time for me to settle down?" You challenged with a smirk. "Get married to some silver-spoon jerk upstate?" Sam's smile turned close-lipped as he noticed the other's approach.

"We could help you find a good one." At least he sounded hopeful.

"In this town?" Steve overheard, tapping his beer on the hardtop. "You're gonna need all the help you can get."

Your sneaking suspicion grew as they hounded like vultures. You looked from Sam to Steve with weary eyes. The only one with less enthusiasm was Bucky. Bucky, who usually was primmed with pressed shirts, was tired. His hair fell into his face, his shirt wrinkled, and his tie long discarded at one of the tables.

"You want to help me find a man?"

Bucky looked to his friends with a hooded expression, letting his hand reach out before him. With the click of his tongue, he softly smirked.

"We'll help you find a man. Have we got a deal, doll?"

It was a business handshake, one full of promise. And as soon as you grasped Bucky's hand, one you'd come to regret.

You didn't expect their advice to work so well��or so quickly.

At the gala, Bucky strolled over with that sly walk and pressed navy suit, conveniently carrying your favorite drink in hand after Pietro ordered you both dirty martinis. You never cared for the drink, but you weren't about to tell him that. But trouble started when Bucky slid between you with that close-lipped smirk.

"They must have made a mistake at the bar," He explained with a shrug. "I remember you liked these. Here, doll." Bucky said, swapping out the drink in your hand before sliding away. No one could fault you for your eyes lingering on him as he walked back to Sam and Steve.

Later in the night, when you were dancing along and finally falling into a rhythm with Pietro, Bucky interrupted again. It was the turn of the tides, the slow pace of the music building, until it felt like one of the underground clubs.

All the weeks spent flirting and learning more about the Maximoff family were crumbling before you. You were a fool to think it would last.

The music built to the familiar strum of old songs you used to listen to, and before you knew it, Sam, Natasha, and half the crew surrounded you on the dancefloor, pulling you away from your date. And it was all orchestrated by Bucky, leading them like a pack of wolves. You knew that look, the suave pull of his hand through slicked-back hair. And then, before you knew it, you were dragged away from the dancefloor.

"Hey," Pietro called over the music, pulling you to the side. "I like you. I do, but this isn't working."

"Wait –" You tried, reaching for his arm. But he was quick to deflect, and embarrassment warmed your cheeks.

"Whatever you're looking for," his eyes moved from Bucky and dropped when you noticed. He looked down with a sad smile. "Whoever you're looking for, I hope you find it."

It felt like a knife twisting in your chest.

"Please don't go."

But it was too late. Your plea was lost as he pushed himself away. Everyone saw it. All your friends' efforts and your attempts to find the one were wasted. Your feet carried you away too fast to notice the somber look Steve gave Bucky.

"You're running out of time, punk."

The city lights passed in a blur as a taxi drove you farther from the gala. The searing ache in your chest left you confused.

For years, you dreamed of Bucky Barnes, hope a dangerous feeling companion of yours. But you knew how he felt. You were nothing more than a friend; he had made that abundantly clear. But you couldn't cut the tether, even while someone else caught your interest. Pietro Maximoff was handsome and kind and loved his sister more than the world. But with Bucky's interruptions, it was no wonder why he didn't want to get involved.

But it still hurt.

A sob was swallowed back, but you couldn't stop the tears from rising. You were pitiful. It was the last time you'd ever ask the guys for help.

But the thought was gone with the sudden screeching of brakes. It made you hold on to the headrest in front of you. Trying to peer around at the commotion, you didn't expect to be cut off by two black SUVs. A moment later, a ringed hand banged on the taxi's hood.

"Get out of the car."

You knew that voice. And as you looked through the windshield, you could see Bucky Barnes peering back.

He was as poised as he was at the party, and the sharp look had you bracing the seat. The bitter spark of rejection caught the light, burning into brutal frustration. You didn't want to talk to him. You didn't want to see him. Not now.

"No."

He tilted his head to the side at the challenge.

"Get out of the fucking car." Bucky gritted. "I need to talk to you."

His voice was teetering dangerously into territory you had only heard about. It was his back rooms, no nonsense voice that snapped you back into the moment. Like hell it would work on you. So it was to be a standoff, one that that you weren't ready to back down from.

Once Bucky realized your position, he took a new approach. You could hear his intentional steps against the pavement as he reached the driver. He didn't say anything but dug into his pants pocket, his fingers flicking through his wallet smoothly.

"Unlock the car," Bucky ordered, pressing cash bills against the window.

The immediate click of the locks didn't help your bellyache, nor did the split second of peace you had before Bucky forced the door open and pulled you out of the cab.

"Are you crazy?" You barked, forcing him to release you as the cab sped off in the other direction.

But you were left in the middle of the road in Barnes territory, the sweep of their dark SUVs cutting off any chance to get out of this conversation.

"What's gotten into you?"

"I didn't want you to leave the party." He explained, his words softer now. "Not like that."

You couldn't believe him. You followed their advice to try and bag a good guy, but to what end?

"What?" You dared to challenge. "I don't know what you want from me. I'm not in the mood, James."

The curl of his name lingered, making your intentions clear. You never called him by his first name. And Bucky didn't like it one bit.

"Let me take you home."

As if you had a choice.

You choked on a frustrated snarl, wanting to hide and cry away your worries and wanting to claw at him like a villain. You hated it. You hated the pressure of his eyes, blue and dark against the night, to get in the car.

So you lifted your head high, took a steeling breath, and walked ahead of him. You were separated from the rest of the world in the backseat of his company car. The divider was a saving grace. You didn't want one of the drivers to see you like this.

But Bucky followed behind so quickly, getting in and closing the door before you could protest for space. You chose to stare out the window instead of looking back at him. The car lurched forward, and you took a moment to find balance.

"You're unhappy."

"No shit."

"Please," He started, turning his shoulders in toward you. Even out of the corner of your eye, you knew he wouldn't let this go. "Please talk to me. Don't close me out. I hated seeing you leave like that. Whatever Maximoff did, I'll fix it."

"You can't fix it!" You finally said, turning to him and gripping his shoulder in frustration. "You say you want me to be happy, to find someone, and then manage to scare off anyone that has the potential to do it." As your voice raised, heat radiated from your cheeks down your neck. His eyes were wide, listening to your grief. "He left because of you. It's not like you have feelings for me. What's the matter with you?"

You couldn't stand to look at him, not when he was so close. His cologne burned your nose, and you desperately needed him to get out of your system.

"Doll," Bucky breathed. He inched his way closer, not letting the anger of your words settle over him. "What if I did have feelings for you?" You would almost call his stare desperate. And then you confirmed it as his shoulders dropped, turning toward you. "It's all that I've wanted to tell you. And I can't see you with him." He admitted.

He moved with purpose all night, not intending to ruin your time with Pietro but to show you that he was the one who needed you. He should have been the one to hold you between dances and order you fine drinks. He should have picked you up so that you would never dare to get in a yellow cab.

But you weren't some wilting flower. You knew the risks of your following words.

"We're friends, Buck."

You held yourself together. You were strong and brave and gripping your heartstrings.

"Yes," He agreed. "But we…"

And for once, he was at a loss of words. The years wasted pining after him would finally be out in the open. You could finally be free of his torment. His eye contact was overwhelming; if he looked away, you would disappear.

"Look, We've been friends for a long time." And with an ounce more of bravery, you sighed. "But I'd like to be more than friends." You admitted. "I want to be so much more than that."

You were waiting for the other shoe to drop. But Bucky leaned closer in earnest, over the seat and bringing his face close. There was no teasing, no torment in his expression.

And with the tip of his chin, you were lost, pulled tight into a kiss and letting it blossom as cold metal snaked around your waist. You dreamed of his touch, and it burned down your throat like honey whiskey.

When you opened your eyes, Bucky had moved. He was no longer in the seat, now chest to chest with you. He was kneeling in the cramped space, the divider shielding you from the driver and the outside world.

"Do you know why Sam offered to help in the first place?" His words were slow as he pulled away, loud enough to hear. "Do you know why Steve jumped on board and corralled us to join? It's because he is tired of me dragging my fucking feet."

"Bucky-"

But he closed the space for another set of slow kisses, deep and intentional.

"I've been an idiot." He admitted. "The guys know how I feel about you. I think they've always known." Another kiss as you pulled back, gripping the shoulders of his jacket. Expensive fabric under your fingertips, hot breath against yours. You were dizzy.

"And you agreed to help with this idea." You noted.

It wasn't a question, no challenge in your words. He agreed to help find you a man. Bucky took a hefty exhale.

"You know the business. It's not safe –" but you raised your hand with a groan, not buying his excuse.

Your fingers brushed over the curve of his chin, the sharp line of his beard a welcome sensation. God, you only ever dreamed of this. You savored the feel of him, your hand moving up his ear and combing your fingers through his air. Buck's eyes were darker than you've ever seen, his open mouth curving up in awe.

"'s not safe." He whispered. "I'm not gonna put you through that."

It was a weak defense. You knew the coterie of mercs, the warehouses, the shipments. You knew all of it and were aware of the danger. But it wasn't like you could cut ties and leave your life behind. You weren't sure you even wanted to.

"You wanted me to find someone else?" You dared to ask. The whisper died as he shook his head.

"All this deal did was make me jealous." He affirmed. "And tonight," His eyes raked down your frame. He never did finish his thought as lust washed over him. A breath passed between you two. "I never meant for you to hurt over it."

The limited space lets you mimic his actions, noting his heaving chest, blue eyes, and the pout of his kissed lips. How he kneeled down in front of you, crowding your space, made you dizzy. While your mouth curved up into a wanton grin, you couldn't help but chase another kiss.

Each touch melted the last of your anguish. The night was long forgotten as soon as he pressed forward, flattening you against the back of the seat. While you pulled up for air, his other hand moved to cup your chin. And then, with your eyes locked on his, he tilted your chin, eyes staring into the roof of the sedan as you felt lips against your jaw.

Hot, languid kisses burned against your pulse. The scrape of his teeth and burn of his beard drove you wild. And as he pulled back, his hand released your chin, following a mesmerized pattern down your skin.

The palm of his hand cupped your neck, down your shoulder, pulling down the thin strap of your dress. Your soft skin was on display, and Bucky's expression was wonderous. But his hand continued mapping, cupping the curve of your breast. A tactful squeeze left your head falling against the seat, a soft gasp on your lips, and your hand blindly reaching up to cover his. With a sharp breath, you found his eyes again. His pink lips were parted, eyes pleading with you.

You knew Bucky was a man of action, but this was uncharted territory. Your nod and an affectionate squeeze of his hand pulled him from his reverie.

He needed more, craving your skin. And as his hand fell from your chest to a solid grip on your ankle, you craved his exploration.

Shallow breaths were traded for deep, hungry kisses. Years of longing, of yearning for his touch and affection, finally were coming to a head. The brush of his tongue left your mind reeling, and regardless of the heat, a trail of goosebumps followed the path of his hand. Under your dress, he lingered over the smooth skin of your calf, over your knee, up your thigh, and to the meat of your hip. Rough, dexterous fingers carved prints into your skin hot enough to burn.

You refuse to miss a moment, eyes fixed on Bucky's as his palm covers the top of your thigh, the intention sitting heavy in your stomach. A live wire of nerves, you can feel him from the heat of your cheeks buzzing down to your toes.

And then, palming where you needed him most, your mouth dropped open with the softest of moans.

Bucky's eyes are wide, but it doesn't last as he finally lets himself get lost. As his eyes close, you admire the curve of his nose and his soft, dark eyelashes. But Buck is greedy, and as he peels his way under the cloth of your panties, you, too, close your eyes. Fingers are nimble, caressing your dripping seam under the dress.

You're a vision.

Convulsing under his touch, rogue pulls off his fingers drip honey down your thighs. Your breath is heaving, and your chest is dangerously close to falling out of the dress. Bucky finds refuge by rubbing slow, devastating circles against your clit. Every hitch of your breath and moan spur him on until you are staring at him with such reverence he thinks he'll collapse.

There's a magnetism, the long-lasting chemistry drawing you nearer to him. He swallows your moan as he slides a finger inside. You're in a desperate frenzy, pulling him close and arching into his body. He spurs on a need you've never had, demanding his smoldering kiss as you shake in his arms.

He's all you've ever wanted. You're crazy to think it could have ever been anyone else.

And then the car jerked to a stop.

There's a breathless laugh as he pulls away, Bucky's forehead resting on yours. You kept a hand on his cheek, thumb brushing his chin. Maybe, if you just ignored it, the outside world would go away.

That is, until you see a porch light turn on from your periphery. You try not to let embarrassment flood your system as you realize your situation, with one of your closest friends knuckle deep in the back seat.

Bucky doesn't share your distress.

He pressed a kiss to your cheek, finally pulling his head back. Bucky smiled. His fingers lingered longer before pulling away, leaving you empty and wanting.

You must have looked as desperate as him, finally looking down at the brutal strain in his pants. But you had no time to overthink as his fingers carefully plucked at your dress strap. He was putting you back together, smoothing out the burn of his touch as he sat up.

If you begged, you were sure that he'd ravage you right there in the seat. But you tilted your head to look outside. You needed a distraction, anything to regain your good sense.

As you focused on the brownstone, you knew where he took you. You were in front of his house – the Barnes family house. He said he was taking you home.

"This isn't my place."

His smirk reached his eyes, and as he pulled open the door and jumped out, his gaze was fixed on you.

"For fucks sake, doll," Bucky's eyes were soft, still blown out. He held a hand out. "We've known each other our whole lives. I'm crazy about you. Are you gonna come up with me or not?"

And with an ardent stare, as if he hung the stars himself, you reached for his hand.

#mob!bucky x reader #mob!bucky #mob!au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #the carriage scene #bucky barnes #lover boy

2K notes · View notes

acmeangel · 3 months ago

Text

♡ You're a member of Levi's Squad, and he asks you to marry him, when disaster strikes.

♡ SFW ♡ Canon!Levi x Fem!Reader ♡ One shot, a bit angsty, mentions of blood, injury, near-death experience ♡ Word count: 3019 ♡ Summary: After finally accepting that you're there to stay, Levi asks you to marry him. You're a member of his Squad, and being with him has always felt right. Not too long after, a dangerous scouting mission leaves you with a grave injury, and Levi is faced with the fear that you might not make it.

When Levi asked you to marry him, it wasn’t with some extravagant proposal or planned-out, grand romantic evening.

You both were lying in your bed in the barracks, your body half-draped on top of his, your fingers lazily playing with strands of his hair. His hands grazed up and down your back with a steady, soothing tempo.

You’d both returned from a scouting mission earlier that day — one with too many casualties, as there always seemed to be. Levi had recruited you to be on his Special Operations Squad years ago, based purely on your stats from previous missions with other squads. At first, he had respected you, much like he’d respected all of the members of Squad Levi; a group of people willing to join the riskiest regiment and put their lives on the line in the futile hope to save humanity.

Respect had eventually turned into friendship, which had then grown into something more. You two loved each other long before your romantic relationship had begun; so when it finally did, it felt natural, like it was always supposed to be that way.

In your bed, that night, he looked at you with a tender softness that bordered on melancholic. It was a look that he didn’t show often. His eyes revealed how deeply he cared for you, how much he wanted to shield you — who he saw as one of the last few truly good things left in this world — from the cruelty, violence, and destruction that ran rampant around you. It was a look that no one else ever got to see.

“I want to run something by you,” he stated, his voice level and smooth as ever.

“Oh, do tell, Captain.” You laughed, faintly, your eyes sparkling with a glint of amusement.

His hand traced up your back and slid around your neck, his thumb rubbing gentle, affectionate circles onto your skin.

“How would you feel about the two of us being together, like this, forever?” he asked, his gaze locking onto yours, an unusual stiffness in his expression. You couldn’t believe it, but he was actually nervous.

You blinked once, twice and tilted your head. “Levi, are you asking… me to marry you?”

You weren’t entirely surprised that this was how he’d phrased it — he’d never been one for verbosity or overly sentimental language. He’d showed his love for you more in his actions; in the way he always checked you for injuries at least three times after a mission, in the way he’d stroke the back of your hand with his thumb when he held it as you fell asleep, in the way he’d insist on giving you half of his own breakfast every morning so you’d have enough energy for the day.

“Yes, Y/N,” he’d said, his hand shifting to cup your cheek, his soft gray eyes settling into yours. “I’m asking you to marry me.”

You felt all of the blood rush to your head, your entire body overwhelmed with excitement, joy, and love for Levi.

“Yes,” you managed to say — and repeated the single word at least twenty times, as you leaned in to press your lips to his, peppering him over and over with kisses.

“Alright, alright,” he’d mumbled after the twentieth kiss, his cheeks then flushed with a soft pink blush.

You beamed with joy as you pulled your face back from his, your eyes glimmering with adoration.

“So,” you began, a hint of playfulness in your voice, raising your eyebrow, “do I get a ring then, or what?”

His lips pressed together, his gaze narrowing just a bit as he considered the question, a puff of air escaping his nose.

“Fine.” His voice was a low, dry mumble, but his lips bent into a small smile, the tension in his forehead releasing. He couldn’t help but give into every one of your requests, no matter what.

His eyes scanned around the room, looking for something suitable, before he reached out to the bedside table, the muscles in his shoulders and back flexing as he took a paperclip from a stack of papers. Turning back to you, his fingers worked with precision to unravel the paper clip, the wire of which he used to form a nearly perfect circle. He took your hand, his touch gentle, and slid the makeshift paper clip ring onto your ring finger in one swift, delicate motion.

“How’s that?” His eyes studied your face, intently waiting for any sign of reaction. “Temporarily, anyway.”

Your cheeks blushed uncontrollably and you gleamed with a smile so wide it made the muscles in your face turn sore. Seeing you this way made him smile — a real smile.

“It’s perfect,” you’d whispered, practically choking the words out. “Much better than any stupid diamond I’ve ever seen.”

“Think we need to do the whole ceremony thing? Or can I just start calling you my wife now?” His brows scrunched together slightly as he waited for your answer, and you could tell how badly he wanted to skip the frills and formalities and simply be yours, eternally.

At the sound of the word ‘wife’ your chest swelled with affection, and your eyes became misty, blurring your vision of him.

“Screw the ceremony,” you whispered, your voice shaking with overflowing emotion. “We’re married, now.”

“Good,” he whispered back, his own voice fraught with feeling, as his thumbs brushed away the tears that had begun to roll down your cheeks. “I love you, Y/N. You know that.”

His eyes bore into yours, seeking confirmation. He didn’t say ‘I love you’ often, only when it really counted.

“I know,” you whispered. “I love you, too, Levi.”

******

It was only weeks after that — after the moment Levi decided, finally, that you would be by his side forever, that he knew you’d never leave him — that your squad was faced with a particularly dangerous mission.

It was another reconnaissance mission, much like all of the other Scouts’ missions had been, but no one could have anticipated the amount of Abnormals. The Scouts hadn’t reached a single objective before entire groups of Erwin’s formation had been wiped out by the Abnormals, which were making their way closer and closer to the center groups. Erwin had officially called for a retreat — something he rarely ever did, only when the situation was dire.

Levi Squad raced forward on horseback, galloping past the blurred, unidentifiable carnage of comrades; the once green fields had turned red and rotten.

Your gaze was fixated intently on Levi, catching glimpses of his profile as he led the squad forward — to anyone else, he looked entirely collected. But you knew him too well and had memorized all of his micro-expressions, and based on the tension in his jaw and the chilled intensity of his gaze, you knew he was worried, too. He’d often admitted that he never knew what the outcome of these missions would be, that no one did, and you could see his mind racing with that exact thought.

The pounding of impossibly large footsteps caused the ground to shake just slightly, enough to make your head whip around and see a group of Abnormals charging forward with unprecedented speed and force.

“Captain!” You’d called out, drawing Levi’s attention. He’d simply glanced over his shoulder and ordered to keep moving forward per Erwin’s command; based on the looks the rest of the squad exchanged, you knew they were unsure about this decision.

Before anyone could think or say another word, one of the Abnormals had surged forward and began to reach for Eld, whose blades were inexplicably jammed in his ODM gear. The panic in his eyes was enough to strike fear into anyone.

You sprung into action immediately — this was simply how you were. You never wasted time thinking, you only acted. It was reckless, perhaps, but you’d gotten results time and time again, and the thought of losing a friend without trying to save him was unacceptable to you.

This was one of the things Levi loved most about you, and it was also one of the things he wished so badly to change about you. He admired your selflessness, your fearlessness, the way you never seemed to be paralyzed by indecision. But, sometimes, it felt to him like only a matter of time before something terrible would happen to you.

You’d managed to sink a grappling hook into the Titan and propel yourself off of your horse, in the direction of Eld, knocking him out of the Titan’s path. You’d planned on being able to then reach the nape of the neck and put an end to this, but you were too rash, too impulsive to anticipate that the Titan’s next movement would whack your ODM wire to the side, bringing your body flinging through the air with it.

The rest, in your recollection, was more or less a blur. You knew that the Titan curled its fingers around your body, its grip bruising your skin and rendering you too immobile to fight back. You knew that you’d heard Levi yelling — actually yelling. You knew that the Titan had brought you to its mouth and managed to sink its teeth into the side of your body enough to make you lose consciousness, but not enough to kill you. You knew that Levi was the one who had intervened, who had saved your life. The last piece of memory you had was the sight of Levi’s face as he grabbed you from the Titan, a look that was so intense, fear-stricken, and furious, it bordered on crazed.

After getting you back onto the ground, Hange had ridden over on horseback and hoisted your limp body onto the horse, carrying you out of harm’s way.

Levi took care of that Titan himself — he made sure of it. Blinded by rage and agony, he slaughtered the Titan with a brutality he typically withheld. Normally, Levi did only as much has he had to in order to kill a Titan. This wasn’t fun for him, it wasn’t a game; he didn’t like fighting, he didn’t like being violent.

But this was different — he sliced the Titan apart, his movements a fevered, merciless haze, his vision red with bloodthirstiness. By the time he was done with the Titan, it was a mere pile of limbs, and he was drenched in its blood.

He’d finally reached the wagon that you’d been placed in, climbing into it with urgent movements, trailing Titan blood behind him. His pupils were constricted; his eyes were glowing with panic.

Your body was lying flat in the wagon, Hange and some of the other squad members hovering over you, attempting to tend to your wounds, their efforts proving futile. They’d managed to wrap a bandage over where the Titan had bit you, but you were bleeding through it with no sign of stopping. There wasn’t anything left to do until you all returned inside the walls.

“Get the fuck away from her! Don’t fucking touch her!” He shouted, his voice coarse and sharp, his arms effortlessly shoving everyone else away from your limp body. He stood over you, his eyes wild with emotion, his chest rising and falling with breaths so heavy it looked almost painful.

When he dropped to his knees beside you, his eyes caught sight of your hand, on the makeshift paperclip ring he had made you, that you’d refused to ever take off. An ice-cold chill rushed down his spine, so sharp it felt like it was actually ripping him apart from the inside out.

“Why is this wagon moving so damn slowly?!” He snarled to the rest of the squad, his eyes desperately glued to your face, while the others scrambled to try and speed the journey up as much as they could.

He grasped onto your hand with both of his as if the sheer force of his grip could heal you and bring you back to him. His eyes didn’t waver from your face once, his gaze burning into your skin, searching for even the slightest sign of life; all he was met with was your sweat-glistened skin. You looked peaceful and it snapped his last thread of self-control — he wanted you to fight.

An uncontrollable, livid, primal growl escaped his mouth, unable to form any coherent words. Spit flung off his lips and into the wind, his expression was frenzied with helpless rage and despair.

The rest of the squad’s expressions froze. They’d never seen Levi be anything but stoic, apart from when he was actively slicing the nape of a Titan’s neck. Goosebumps dotted their skin as they simply watched, eyes wide, unsure of what to do. Levi had forgotten anyone else was even there; he cared about nothing in that moment but you.

He watched as your face turned lifeless, as your breathing became so shallow that it was hardly perceptible. You were slipping through his fingers, and there was nothing he could do about it — for once, his strength meant nothing.

“No,” he barked, his voice gruff and strained, his grip on your hand tightening until his knuckles turned blazing white. “You won’t be taken from me. This shitty, goddamned world is not going to take you from me. You gave your word, Y/N. You said forever. Don’t back out on me now.”

His cries didn’t make a sound, but the sight of his back heaving raggedly and his hot tears dropping down onto your face was unmistakable. His face was twisted with anguish; his teeth were visibly clenched together so forcefully that they could’ve cracked. His hands began to involuntarily shake as they held onto your hand, the paperclip ring digging into his skin.

******

The next time you’d opened your eyes, you were confused. Your vision was blurry for a few moments, until you were met with the sight of the medical unit and you realized you were lying in one of the beds.

The next thing you saw was Levi’s face, the veins in neck tense with distress, the circles under his eyes darker than you’d ever seen them before. You took a deep breath, which hurt, and you felt the bandages around your waist expand and contract against your skin.

Upon seeing your eyes begin to faintly blink open, Levi moved to the edge of his chair, his hand urgently reaching out for yours, his eyes wildly moving across your face.

“Y/N?” His voice was raspy with disuse and lack of sleep, his tone pleading and tinged with hope.

“Levi…?” you whispered, groggily, your voice low and coarse.

His eyes fluttered closed with relief, his shoulders slumping as his head dropped down to your hand, holding it to his forehead with reverence. “Oh, thank god…” He whispered, his voice stilted with emotion.

Once Levi composed himself, and you began asking him questions, he explained to you, briefly, what had happened — he didn’t want to alarm or worry you with the more gruesome details until he was sure you were okay. All he told you was that a Titan had attacked you on the last scouting mission and that you’d been in the medical unit for weeks.

You’d learned later that the entire time, Levi had barely left your side. He’d sat in a chair next to you, watching you, talking to you, holding your hand, and urging you to wake up and come back to him. At night, he’d slept even less than usual, nodding off in his chair for only an hour or so here and there. Some of the other squad members could have sworn they’d even caught glimpses of Levi crying when he thought no one else was around.

The only time he ever left your side was if he had to go to briefings and meetings. When he did, he’d threaten medics into sitting by your side, outlining grave consequences for if anything happened to you while he was gone. He’d skipped meals, trainings, and anything else that wasn’t absolutely mandatory for him to attend.

After he’d finished helping you sip some water and become less groggy, he just looked at you, his eyes scanning over every centimeter of your face, as if making sure that you were really awake and stable and it wasn’t some insomnia-induced hallucination.

“You’re done with the Scouts,” he’d said, finally, his voice firm, unyielding — it wasn’t a question, but a statement.

“Huh?” Your brows pressed together with confusion. “Who decided that? Erwin? What, does he think I’m useless now?”

“No, Y/N.” He shook his head, taking a soft breath before continuing. “I’m deciding it.”

“Levi-“

“No,” he cut you off before you can even think to object. His jaw clenched, his expression was fraught with concern. “Y/N. I thought you were… gone. It nearly killed me. This- nothing can ever happen to you again. You’re my wife. I need you to be here, with me. I need to know you’re safe, Y/N. I can’t- if you’d actually… Please, Y/N.”

For a moment, this surprised you. Outside of missions, Levi had never told you what to do or asked anything of you — he was protective, but not possessive. You being with him, caring for him, and loving him was more than he’d ever dared to hope for in his life. To him, you’d settle for him despite his most hidden scars, and it felt wrong to ever ask for more.

But he was asking you to do this. Begging you. For him.

“Okay,” your voice dipped to a gentle softness, your hand reaching out for his again, somewhat weakly. “Okay, Levi. I’ll leave the Scouts. Nothing will ever happen to me again. Everything’s going to be okay.”

A slow, uneven breath escaped his lips, as if expelling all of the fear and tension in his body. He collapsed into you, softly, his forehead pressed against your shoulder.

“Thank you,” he breathed, the words barely making a sound. “I love you, Y/N. More than you’ll ever know.”

He didn’t say it often, only when it really counted.

Masterlist

Requests are OPEN!

Requested by anonymous!

Taglist (message me to be added!): @leviykwim

881 notes · View notes

keeryhours · 6 months ago

Text

wildflower chapter one

Eddie Munson x Henderson! female reader, Steve Harrington x reader

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Summary:

Eddie leaves Hawkins (and his girl) behind to chase his dreams with Corroded Coffin. 2 years later, things have definitely changed.

Chapter Warnings:

Pregnancy, labor/birth, blood, traumatic birth/complications, secret baby

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N:

This is sort of a prologue, but I’m calling it chapter one. I’m really excited about this new series and I hope you will be, too!

—

“It’s my dream, baby. I can’t let this opportunity pass us by. This could change our lives.”

You had heard it over and over again. The same words coming from the same man with his wide puppy dog eyes, holding both your hands in his as he occasionally reached up to wipe your tears away again. He knew he was breaking your heart, and he hated that more than anything, but he also felt confident he was making the right decision.

You had been thrilled for him when he walked home into the trailer, screaming about how a scout had actually been to The Hideout and approached Corroded Coffin (specifically Eddie himself) after their show. The two of you stayed up all night talking excitedly, thinking of what this would mean for the band, for Eddie’s dream. Then he proceeded to give you the best sex of your life.

Things moved fast after that. It turned out the label really liked Corroded Coffin, and they wanted them in the studio immediately. And it really was a dream, at first. Eddie and the guys had just graduated and they immediately dumped all their time into the studio and perfecting their songs. You spent near every day lounging around the studio, watching the band record, a grin on your face so big it hurt watching Eddie do what he does, the happiness simply exuding from him. You loved him deeply, and seeing him beginning to really live his dream was everything you ever hoped for.

When the album was done, it released to more success than any of you could have dreamed of. Corroded Coffin was building a substantial and dedicated fan base already, they were on the radio, everyone was begging for them to perform in their city. That’s when the tour started being discussed. And their new manager began to point out the fact that there were no opportunities in Hawkins - the band would be better off moving somewhere like California.

You had never really thought Eddie wanted to leave like that. Sure he always dreamed of the band making it big, but you always assumed at the end of the day he would come home to Hawkins, come home to you. But it was obvious immediately that Eddie and the guys were completely on board with the idea of moving.

“Eddie, I can’t move to California,” you had explained, pacing around your tiny shared bedroom and huffing a humorless laugh. “My family is here. My mom and Dustin. All my friends are here. I’ve never even lived anywhere else.”

Eddie had ran his hands through his wild curls, another sigh escaping his lips. “I know, baby. But we could make a life out there, you and me.”

Tears had begun to well up in your eyes. “I would be left alone all the time, Eds. You’d be so busy with all the band stuff and being famous, and I’d be stuck alone, states away from home with no friends or family or support system.”

Eddie’s face fell, because he knew that was true. He hated the idea of being apart from you, but he hated the idea of making you follow him and be miserable, too. “We could do long distance?”

The tears actually began to fall then, and you collapsed on the bed next to him, your face in your hands. “I don’t know, Eddie. It sounds awful.”

Eddie didn’t say anything else as he started rubbing your back. He didn’t know if there was anything else to say. Those were your options, and none of them were great. But he knew if he passed up this opportunity, he would regret it for the rest of his life.

There were many variations of the same argument over the next few months as Eddie and the band prepared for the move to California and the beginning of the tour. There were a lot of tears. A lot of fighting followed by make up sex. None of the arguments ever made any actual progress, you always found yourselves stuck right back at the beginning.

Now Eddie stood in front of you, holding both your hands in his as you cried your eyes out in front of him. His heart was shattered in his chest. But the day had finally come, the bus was packed and waiting as the band said their goodbyes. It was somehow one of the best days of his life, while also being the worst.

“You’re sure you don’t want to come with me?” Eddie asked you again, although at this point it was too late, they were leaving now.

You sniffled, your face already red and eyes puffy from the amount of crying you’d done in the past few months but especially today. It seemed you only got more and more emotional about the whole thing as time went on. “I can’t,” you said, which is exactly what Eddie knew you’d say.

Eddie looked at you with the pain visible in his eyes. He moved his hands to gently hold either side of your face and pulled you in, placing a gentle, lingering kiss on your lips. Like it was the last time.

“I love you,” he said. “I will always love you.”

You were pretty sure there was nothing left of your heart to break. “I love you too, Eddie.”

He pulled you into a tight hug. You never wanted to leave that embrace - it felt so final, and you always hated goodbyes. Eddie held you until one of the crew members tapped him on the shoulder, telling him it was time to go.

He pulled away from you reluctantly. He looked you in the eyes for a moment before placing a kiss to your forehead. Then he was turning and walking away.

You watched him go, duffel bag and guitar case slung over his shoulder, the rest of everyone’s belongings and the band’s supplies packed tight under the bus. You watched as he climbed the stairs and turned, giving you one last look before you lost sight of him.

You stayed and watched until the bus drove away, down the road and completely out of your view. Taking your heart and soul with it.

—

It was two weeks later when the positive pregnancy test stared you in the face.

You couldn’t believe it, but at the same time, it did seem like that would be just your luck.

You had been feeling sick for the past week, but convinced yourself it was the nerves and emotions over Eddie leaving and the break up. You hadn’t even heard from Eddie since he left, despite his insistence that he’d call, relationship or not. You hoped he had just been busy and he hadn’t simply forgotten about you that quickly. You’d been together for two years before he left, you didn’t think you were that unimportant to him.

You cried on the bathroom floor of your new apartment for who knows how long. Your life was over, you felt quite sure. Eddie was long gone, who knows where at this point, with no plans to return. And now you were carrying his baby.

You didn’t say a word about it to anyone for a while. You had to work through it in your own head first. What did you even want to do? The thought of an abortion crossed your mind, but ultimately you felt you couldn’t go through with it. You could handle things on your own, you thought. Your waitressing job at the diner paid well enough for you to live off of, especially with all the overtime you picked up. Could you have and raise this baby on your own?

A week after the positive test, you broke the news to your mom and younger brother. Your mom cried, of course, which made you feel terrible. You had always imagined telling this news one day to be a joyful occasion, but that wasn’t your reality now. Your reality was being a single mother at 18. Dustin was in shock, but he seemed excited at the prospect of being an uncle, at least. You avoided all questions about Eddie.

Next, you broke the news to your best friends Steve and Robin, leaning over the counter of Family Video. They may have been more shocked than your family had been, and they both absolutely freaked out.

“You’re gonna have a baby,” Steve had choked out, as if that part was hard enough to say, “at 18, by yourself?”

Having the facts spelled out in front of you like that did nothing to help, and you burst into tears for the millionth time in the middle of the video store. Robin shot Steve a look before she was hopping over the counter to wrap you in a tight hug.

“What Steve meant to say,” Robin said, glaring at your mutual friend over the top of your head, “is that we’re here for you, whatever you need. You don’t have to do this all alone.”

You knew you needed to tell Eddie. And you definitely did have every intention to…but he never called. Never. Not once. And that hurt you so deeply, and made you so angry, you refused to reach out to him first. So…he never got the news.

True to their word, Steve and Robin were the best support system. Dustin, too. Your mom called you every single night needing to know exactly how you and the baby were and how you’d spent your day and that you were making good choices, which drove you a little bit crazy but at least she cared.

Your pregnancy progressed healthily, and the weeks went by faster than you were prepared for. Watching your body grow and become unfamiliar to you was…bizarre. And you missed Eddie. You started seeing Corroded Coffin popping up on magazine covers at the grocery store check out. You’d lay your hand over your growing belly and think about what could have been, what wasn’t.

Then you’d shove the magazine back in the rack and push him out of your mind.

Steve and Robin loved the belly. They found it fascinating, even if it made Steve a little squeamish. The first time the baby kicked you had been hanging around Family Video on your day off, looking through the new releases for a movie night with Dustin. You felt the strange flutter beneath your skin and you gasped, your hand shooting to that spot on your belly. You felt the kick again, against your hand.

Steve and Robin’s heads both shot up at the sound of your gasp. Robin was hopping over the counter and rushing to your side before Steve could catch up. “What is it? Are you okay? Is the baby okay?” Robin asked in a rush.

You just laughed, taking Robin’s hand and placing it where you had felt the kick. She looked at you strangely until you felt it again - her jaw dropped. “No way!!!” she exclaimed.

“What?” Steve asked, confused and not liking feeling left out. Robin moved her hand as you let go and grabbed Steve’s instead, placing it in the same spot. Sure enough, there was another kick moments later.

“Holy shit!” Steve said, but he jerked his hand back like he’d been burned. “It moved!”

You laughed. “That was the first kick!”

Robin cooed to the unborn baby, her hands moving back to the bump. Steve kept his distance, but watched the two of you.

“It’s weird,” Steve finally said, “like an alien. Have you seen Alien?”

Despite his squeamishness around a lot of pregnancy topics, Steve was an amazing support the entire time. He drove you to every appointment, Robin usually tagging along as well. They were there along with Dustin and your mom as you found out the gender of the baby - a boy.

Names were a big debate for a while. Not only choosing a name for your baby boy, but deciding what last name you would give him. You felt bad giving him your own last name and erasing Eddie entirely, but it also made no sense to give the baby the same last name as him when he didn’t even know of his existence and would never meet or know him.

You went into labor early, at 35 weeks. It caught you by surprise when your water broke and contractions began at 2am while you were snuggled in bed. Steve and Robin were going to take turns staying at your apartment when you hit 38 weeks, but you never made it that far, so you were alone with no transportation. You fought off a panic attack as you stumbled into the kitchen and picked up the phone, breathing through an intense contraction.

“‘lo?” was the sleepy reply when your call was picked up. It was obvious that Steve had been in deep sleep.

“Stevie?” you had said, knuckles turning white as you gripped the edge of the countertop. “The baby is coming.”

“What?” he certainly sounded a lot more awake after that. “Like, now? It’s too early!”

“I know it’s early, but it’s definitely happening,” you said.

“Shit, I- okay. Okay, shit. I’m on the way right now.”

The call ended before you were able to say anything else, so you hung the phone back on the wall. You grabbed your bags from your bedroom, feeling grateful you’d packed so early. You paced as you waited for Steve, you couldn’t stand to sit still when contractions started wracking through your body. It’s the only thing that controlled some of the pain as you remembered your breathing exercises.

Thankfully it didn’t take Steve long at all. You heard his tires squealing as he sped to a stop right in front of your apartment building. You didn’t even have to look to know it was him. He was bursting through your front door moments later, sweating and looking panicked. He was dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt that was on backwards, his usually perfect hair completely mussed up.

“Are you okay?” he asked, grabbing onto your shoulders and looking you all over as if you might have had the baby already and hid him somewhere.

“I’m okay,” you said, needing him to calm down. “The contractions are bad and they’re coming on fast but I’m okay. Your shirt’s backwards, by the way.”

Steve looked down at himself, a blush rising to his cheeks when he realized you were right. He pulled the shirt over his head and spun it around. “Sorry,” he said shyly.

Steve grabbed your bags and helped you into his car. Less than an hour later you were set up in your hospital room, dressed in an ugly gown and hooked up to a bunch of monitors. Steve sat next to you, having already called Robin and your family for you.

When things had calmed and you were relaxing in the bed between contractions, Steve looked at you seriously.

“Do you want me to try to reach Eddie?” he asked tentatively, cautious of your reaction.

The reminder of Eddie on that day hit you harder than ever. Did you want Eddie to be there? Yes, more than anything. But the reality was that he was god knows where, living his rockstar lifestyle, completely unaware his ex-girlfriend back home was preparing to give birth to their son. It was partially your fault, you knew, but still. You didn’t imagine he would have turned the bus around and quit the band to come play happy family with you, anyway.

“No,” you told Steve simply. He nodded and squeezed your hand once, although he looked like he had more to say.

When it was time to push, you were surrounded by support. Steve, Robin, and your mom stayed in the room with you - Dustin, who had no desire to see any of what was about to go down, moved back to the waiting room until it was safe to return.

The birth was more complicated than expected. You pushed for a long time, your mom wiping the sweat from your face as the pain went on seemingly endlessly. The doctor started talking about a c-section, but you didn’t want that. The thought terrified you. It motivated you to push even harder, and within the next 5 minutes, the baby was out and the room was filled with the sound of newborn cries. The doctor asked if Steve wanted to cut the cord, and he said yes without hesitating.

Your mom started bawling immediately, even Robin and Steve were tearing up at the sight of the baby, your baby boy. You tried to lean up to see him, but your head was so woozy, the second you lifted it from the pillow you felt like you were spinning. Nurses were working on the baby across the room while the doctor still hadn’t moved from between your legs - but you couldn’t get your brain to form a proper thought. Your vision was starting to get blurry and nausea roiled in your stomach.

The chatter in the room turned frantic, and you saw Steve turn to look at you in a panic, your mother’s sobs sounding less like happy crying now. You were confused as your mom and friends were quickly pushed away from your side and the sidebars on the hospital bed were lifted and locked into place. You caught some mentions of “emergency surgery” and “bleeding” as the bed started moving before everything went dark.

You woke up in a quiet, brightly lit room. You squinted from the lights as you opened your eyes, looking around you confused. You felt incredibly sore, and more alert than before but still a little out of it.

“You’re awake,” a relieved voice said, and you turned to see Robin by your bedside, looking exhausted.

You went to speak but found that your mouth was incredibly dry, your throat sore. Robin noticed immediately and grabbed a jug of water, holding the straw to your lips to help you drink. You accepted the help gratefully, and the ice water soothed your mouth and throat.

“Thank you,” you croaked out as she set the water jug back on the rolling table. “What…happened?”

Robin looked at you sympathetically. “You were bleeding really bad. They had to take you back for emergency surgery. But you’re okay now,” she added the last part quickly, seeing the panic rising on your face. “They got it under control. You’re going to be just fine.”

You nodded, and Robin looked behind you as another voice spoke. You hadn’t even realized you weren’t the only two people in the room.

“Somebody wants to meet you, if you’re up for it.”

You turned to see Steve, holding a little bundle of blankets gently in his arms. He looked even more tired than Robin, but he also looked happy. Your eyes locked in on the tiny bundle as Steve brought it closer before leaning down and placing it gently in your arms.

He was perfect. Sure everyone thinks their baby is the cutest, but this one? This had to be the cutest baby to ever exist. Tears began to fall and a huge smile spread its way across your cheeks as you took in the sight of him. You looked him all over, wanting to memorize every part of him.

He looked like Eddie. The realization sent a pang of guilt and hurt through your heart. He had a head full of dark brown curly hair, and looked up at you with the same big brown doe eyes his father had that got him anything he wanted. You realized you had just created another little person who would have that power over you. He was still so small, only born 5lbs 6oz. But he was healthy, and strong. The hospital just wanted to keep him for a few extra days since he was premature.

Your mom and Dustin returned a minute later, both relieved to see you awake and alert. Dustin got to hold his nephew for the first time, and you took a photo on the polaroid camera you packed. You got a picture of everyone holding him, and your mom took plenty of you, one including Steve and Robin on either side of you like three proud parents.

Asher James Henderson was perfect. You had decided to give him your own last name, since you were doing it alone and you were the only parent on the birth certificate.

You were terrified of being a single mother - even with the amazing support you had, it was still horrifying to think about. But honestly? You rocked it.

Asher was a happy baby, hardly ever fussed and slept like an angel. He loved spending time with you, would light up in the brightest smile every time he saw your face. He was also close with Steve and Robin, who came by every day. Uncle Dusty was another favorite, and your mom stepped into the grandma role happily and easily. Things were not the nightmare you feared they would be.

He got a bit crazier once he entered the toddler years. Reminding you of Eddie and what he must have been like as a child - which happened every single day - he was full of endless energy, completely fearless and always looking for adventure. You spent most of your time chasing after him and stopping him from climbing the furniture. But he was also the sweetest kid in the world, full of love for his mom and loved ones.

2 ½ years after Eddie’s departure, things had become easier and easier. You were comfortable with your little life, your little unconventional family. You were happy. Sure, sometimes it felt lonely, but you didn’t feel the need to date when you felt your attention should be all on Asher. And the idea of bringing a new man into his life scared you. So you didn’t.

You liked your job at the diner. You’d been there since the summer after graduation, and while it could be hard work and long hours, you loved your coworkers like family and it took care of you and Ash.

You were wiping down an empty table when the bell above the door chimed, signaling someone had entered the restaurant. You looked up to see Steve rushing in, breathless, still in his Family Video uniform. He held a piece of paper in his hand as he looked around, presumably for you.

When he spotted you he came walking over with purpose, which made you furrow your brows in confusion over what could possibly be so important.

Steve reached you and slammed the paper on the table in front of you. “You’re not gonna believe this shit.”

You looked down at the paper - and felt your blood run cold.

“…Corroded Coffin is coming to Hawkins?” you asked, your voice suddenly weak.

“A homecoming show,” Steve scoffed. “This weekend. I thought they were too good for us now, but I guess they can spare one little visit for us hicks.”

Steve looked pissed. Eddie’s calls had stopped for him, too, not long after he left. You weren’t surprised - if he had abandoned you, the woman he claimed to be in love with for years, then nothing surprised you about him anymore. But Steve had been deeply hurt.

Your ears were ringing. You thought you might pass out. You couldn’t believe what you were looking at - they were really coming here. Back home to Hawkins. Eddie and Asher would be in the same place and not even know the other existed.

“Hey, hey,” Steve said, suddenly realizing you didn’t look too good. He rubbed your back. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have sprung it on you like that. I just…I just saw it and I freaked and I had to tell you.”

You shook your head. “No, Steve, it’s…it’s alright. I’m glad you told me. I guess it doesn’t really matter, though. It’s not like I’ll be going.”

Steve looked at you, his face etched with concern. “Are you sure you don’t want to see him?”

You bit your bottom lip nervously. “I don’t think so, Steve. I don’t think I can.”

Steve nodded in understanding. “Okay. Well I’m not gonna push you. But if you wanna go, try to talk to him…we can do that. It could be good.”

You considered his words. Should you see Eddie? Let him explain himself? …Maybe tell him about his son? The thought made you feel like you could be sick.

“You look pale,” Steve said, looking worried. “You should sit down.”

You waved him off. “I’m fine.” Steve didn’t look like he believed you, but he didn’t push the subject. “Look, I’ll think about it, okay? I don’t know what to do right now. I don’t know what to think.”

Steve wrapped you up tight in his strong arms. “Hey, it’s your decision, sweetheart. You let me know what you want and we’ll make it happen. I’ll be right by your side either way.”

You nodded, grateful for Steve’s unwavering support as tears began to fall. Great, now you were crying and you still had 4 hours left of your shift.

Steve held you for a little longer, fingers soothingly brushing through your hair before he pulled back. “I gotta get going. I just totally ditched Robin to run over here the second that guy dropped these flyers off.” He ran a hand through his immaculate hair. “We’ll talk later, okay? It’s okay. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

You wanted to believe your friend’s words as you watched him go, but it was hard. You had finally found your footing on your own, and now Eddie was coming back to Hawkins and throwing everything off. Going to this show or not would be a life changing decision. Either you can keep living life as you are, ignore the show and Corroded Coffin leaves Hawkins again without giving you a second thought…or you go, talk to Eddie, and flip both of your lives upside down.

You felt thoroughly fucked.

756 notes · View notes

chantersboard · 1 year ago

Text

Lovely To Be Rained On With You

Summary: 3K. Reader and Joel rush to find shelter from the storm

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, post-outbreak, oral f!receiving, unprotected PIV, creampie

A/N: okay I have spent so much time on here reading other Joel fics and enjoying myself so I kinda wanted to give back. but first of all I need to get three things off my chest. one, it's been a long time since I've written anything. two, this is my first writing The Last of Us. three, and probably most important as I beg for kindness, it's my first time writing smut. this has been sitting in my docs for too long so Imma just press post and walk away. enjoy! AO3

EDIT: This was a one shot that got continued! You can find it here: Lovely To Sleep With You

The weather was changing rapidly. Not long ago it had only been partly cloudy, but now, for as far as the eye could see, the sky was one massive, threatening cloud. The leaves danced on their branches as the gusting wind flowed through them; their rustling a constant melody accompanied by the quickening beat of two pairs of boots.

Tightening the grip on your rifle, you look up at the darkening sky. The weapon could protect you from a lot, but not from this. It had been four days since you left camp and it was still another day’s walk until you returned.

There was no outrunning this storm.

A few feet ahead of you Joel Miller marches onward, his broad frame and long legs setting a rapid pace you struggle to keep up with. The pack on your back is overfilled and heavy with recently looted goods. It causes your steps to be slow, more cautious and measured.

You take a deep breath, “Joel…?” you begin. You’re both thinking it. Someone has to say it out loud. “It’s gonna pour in any minute.”

His graying curls dance along with the leaves in the wind. He steps over a fallen tree then turns and offers his hand to help you over. You graciously accept it, sliding your fingers over his calloused hand. The weight of the bag digs into your shoulders as you step over. Had it not been for the heavy sack you would have been closer to camp by now, but those supplies are the sole reason the two of you journeyed so far away.

“I know,” he says as you join him on the other side of the log.

“We’re too far from camp—”

“I know,” he repeats, his brows furrowing. He scouts the distance, bright eyes scanning left and right, through the trees and beyond. A bead of sweat slowly falls down his face, the unseasonable hot May weather demanding to be acknowledged.

“There was a cabin…” he trails off, lost in thought. You look ahead, only seeing trees. “D’you remember? Was it before or after all those alliums we saw?”

You think back and try to remember this area from a few days ago but a lot had happened since: Joel injured his shoulder wrestling with a jammed door; you found and promptly devoured a can of ravioli; there were two separate attacks with solitary infected; finding the motherlode of supplies in what looked like a doomsday prepper’s basement; oh, and then there was last night.

Still riding the high of finding all those medical supplies and ammunition (and a bottle of bourbon), the two of you spent last evening in high spirits. You shared stories and laughed and drank. Joel hummed a tune that had you swaying your hips and smiling towards the obsidian sky. For a moment things felt so easy and normal.

At some point that night, with only a sliver of the moon in the sky, you stumbled in the darkness and fell into Joel’s arms. You had looked up at him, your hand rested on his strong chest as you breathed in the scent of him. Your body tingled where his hands pressed into your waist. The stars twinkled above him as he smiled crookedly and whispered, “y’okay, sweetheart?” and you nearly confessed. Nearly told him how you truly felt about him. Nearly revealed you knew he watched you when he thought you couldn’t see.

Nearly kissed his gorgeous face.

But then he dropped his hands, the magic of the moment gone, and you swallowed your feelings. You fell asleep last night wishing things were different. Wishing Joel was yours.

A single raindrop plopping on your forehead brings you back to the present. “We saw the cabin first,” you recall. “And then the flowers.”

Joel nods, walking forward even faster than he had before. He too must have felt a raindrop.

The two of you continue onwards, the sky teasing you with singular drops of rain as you migrant the woodsy terrain. It doesn’t take long until you see them in the distance.

Alliums. The purple flowers, towering high on skinny stalks, sway in the wind. The bulbous plant, petals like bursting fireworks, are scattered across the field. The sight of them brings you relief. It shouldn’t be much longer until you find the cabin.

Just as you walk past the last bunch of flowers the sky begins to open up. The rain comes softly at first. Small drops that slide off your skin and moisten your clothing. Foolishly, you believe if it continues like this you’ll be fine. But as lightning shoots across the sky and thunder shakes your body, the drops grow heavier, their frequency increasing.

The rain continues to fall harder as you trek on. The sound of water blanketing the land drowns out everything else. Joel turns and looks behind at you, his normally bouncy hair weighted down and plastered to his face. Another clap of thunder rings as the rain soaks through you. It seeps all the layers of your clothing, through your jeans, through your socks, pooling in your boots.

Walking is becoming more difficult as your boots sink into the mud, your clothes are soaked through and heavy and your cumbersome backpack doesn’t help. You’re about to yell ahead, tell Joel it doesn’t even matter anymore, that you’re too tired, but then you see the cabin.

It’s a tiny little thing. The sheltered patio leads into one cozy room. To your right is a kitchenette, directly in front of you is a small living space, and further back, against the wall rests a bed. There’s a closed off area there as well, presumably a bathroom.

Joel crosses the cabin, his hand resting on the pistol holstered to his hip, and peers into the smaller room. His posture relaxes and he gives a quick nod. The cabin is safe.

You rest your rifle against the wall by the door and unceremoniously drop your bag. Relief spreads through your bones. You arch your back and stretch your arms upwards, pulling the muscles along your spine. You glance across the room and there it is again—Joel is watching you. His eyes travel your body and linger where your soaked top clings to your chest.

He’s lost in the sight of you. You raise your arms higher, his gaze warming your cheeks and your core, and you push your chest further out to taunt him. The wet fabric is unforgiving and you're sure he can see your hardened nipples even from across the room.

You decide to break the silence. “You think it will last long?”

Joel snaps to attention, his eyes finding yours as he runs his fingers through his hair. “Huh? What was that?”

“The storm,” you pause to lick your lips. “Do you think it’ll last long?”

Joel sets his backpack down at the head of the bed. “Not too sure,” he looks past you out the window at the turbulent weather, “regardless, we should stay here for the night.” He opens his bag and begins to rummage through it.

You nod as you walk over to the foot of bed. With your back facing him you sit on the edge. “In that case I’m gonna get out of these clothes.”

You wrap your fingers under the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head. You toss the clothing and it lands with a loud slap on the wooden floor. After kicking off your boots and socks you lift your hips off the bed enough to push your jeans to your thighs. You struggle to get the tight and stiff wet denim off your legs.

You lean back on your forearms and look behind at Joel. He’s suddenly very interested in his bag. You watch as he digs around, the muscles in his arms pressing against his tee. His face is glistening wet and it highlights the slope of his nose and the curve of his jaw. He’s just as handsome as always.

“Hey, Joel?” You bite your lip and wait for his attention.

His hands still as he looks down at you. “Yes, sweetheart?”

The endearment makes your heart swell. You swing your dangling legs. “Can you help me out of these? They’re giving me trouble.”

He looks at the jeans halfway down your thighs. You’ve changed in front of Joel before but after last night, after spending so much time alone with him, things have gotten intimate. You feel exposed half undressed in your mismatched undergarments, but it’s also exciting and your breath quickens under Joel’s glare.

“Yeah, I can help,” he nearly whispers. He drops his bag on the floor, the stuff within no longer important, and rounds the bed. You lift your legs when he gets close and await his touch.

He holds your ankles first. Gathering the material there, he attempts to pull, but the jeans barely move. So his hands climb up, over your calves, then behind your knees, and when they reach your thighs he pauses. He hooks onto the edge of the material, his thick fingers touching your bare skin, and pulls.

The jeans start to give way. As he tugs your body jostles, your breasts bouncing lightly in your worn bra, each jerk becoming more arousing. Once he’s peeled your pants off he discards them onto the floor along with your shirt.

“There ya go,” he says as he comes between your legs and leans in. “Will you be needin’ anything else?”

He looks at you, his eyes intense and questioning. He’s so close you can feel his body heat, even with his cool wet shirt brushing against your bare torso. A flash of lightning briefly brightens the room. You swallow hard and wait for the resounding thunder. You won’t repeat last night. You won’t let this moment pass.

“Kiss me,” you whisper.

And suddenly Joel’s lips are pressed against yours. He kisses you hungrily, mashing himself against you, finally feeding the longing you’ve both felt for some time. You part your mouth and allow his tongue entry as you melt into him. You explore each other, your hands running along his chest as you’re rendered breathless under his kissing. Your fingers tangle in his shirt. You pull at the fabric wanting to feel his skin against yours.

Joel breaks from the heated kiss and straightens his body. His eyes are dark and filled with lust as he yanks his shirt off. You watch him as you scoot back on the bed and fully lay down. He kicks off his boots and undoes his belt and jeans. His body is strong from years of manual labor. There’s a line of hair on his soft belly that trails under his boxers.

“What else do you need, sweetheart?”

You can’t tell if the roaring in your ears is the sound of the rain or of your quickly beating heart. Joel waits for your answer as he unclips the gun holster from his belt and rests it on the floor. His hardening cock springs free when he drops his pants and boxers.

He strokes himself slowly and you watch as his cock gets harder in his grasp. You rub your thighs together, desperately seeking relief for the growing ache between your legs. You unclasp your bra and cup your breasts. Joel softly grunts when you pinch your nipples between your fingers.

The sight of him bare and beautiful leaves you breathless. He looks so handsome with his hair slicked back and glossy from the rain. The sight of his cock, hard and ready for you, sets you on fire. He licks his lips and all you can think about is those lips on you. On your mouth, on your tits, on your cunt. You have never wanted someone so badly.

“You, Joel,” you finally say. “I need you.”

He smiles at your answer and makes his way onto the bed. He takes his time crawling up to you, planting kisses along the way. He pauses when he meets the apex of your legs.

His fingers curl around the band of your panties and he pulls them down and off. You open your legs, inviting him in, so desperate for his touch.

He looks up with hungry eyes. “I want to taste you,” he says as his fingers part your pussy lips, opening you even further for him.

Joel opens his mouth and presses his tongue against your cunt. He licks up, takes his time savoring you until he passes over your sensitive bundle of nerves. The sensation has you moaning and lifting your hips to meet his mouth.

“Oh, Joel,” you whine as he continues sucking and licking you, alternating between the flat of his tongue and the point of his tip. One of his large fingers finds the entrance to your hole and pushes inside.

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me already,” he mumbles into your folds. “One of my fingers isn’t enough, is it?”

Your hands run through his hair as he inserts another finger inside you, your walls clenching around him. He pumps his fingers in and out of you, curling them into the spot within you that has you moaning his name.

Your pleasure grows as Joel finds his rhythm, his mouth and hand working together to bring you closer and closer to orgasm.

“Please, Joel,” you’re begging, pleading with him. “Don’t stop! I’m so close, please don’t stop!”

So he doesn’t. His moans join your screams of pleasure until the pressure in your core finally snaps. Your back arches and your legs shake as your orgasm rips through you. Joel’s fingers continue to work through your high, prolonging your pleasure until your legs relax and your grip loosens from his hair.

“Fuck,” you exhale as Joel crawls up, his strong body caging around you. He leans into you, the touch of his skin on yours and the weight of him soothing your body. He nestles his face into the crook of your neck as one of his hands squeezes your breast, his fingers playfully twisting your nipple.

He’s planting kisses on you again, on your neck, along your jaw, then on your lips. You moan when you taste your own release on his tongue as he slips it between your lips. You spread your legs further underneath him, a fire burning in your core that only he can put out. His cock rests thick and hard between you.

“I still need you,” you whisper, lifting your hips to grind yourself against the length of him. You need all of him, every pound and every inch. You need his touch, his lips, his moans. You need him around you. You need him in you.

He grunts as you rub against him, your wet hole eager to be filled.

“I need you too,” he whispers back as he reaches in between your bodies. He grabs himself and aligns the thick head of his cock at your entrance.

You whimper as he slowly pushes himself inside you. Inch by inch your walls stretch to accommodate his shaft. Seeds of pleasure start to grow when he’s fully inserted into you.

Joel stills inside you and looks into your eyes. His face is twisted in bliss. “Goddamn, your pussy is squeezing me so tight,” he rasps. He sharply exhales when you flex your cunt around him.

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in for a kiss. He begins to pump his hips then, making soft shallow thrusts until he’s gotten used to the feeling of you. He moans into your mouth as he picks up the pace, nearly pulling himself out of you entirely before plummeting back into your depths.

His dick is intoxicating. Waves of pleasure wash over you each time he rams himself deep in you. He fills you completely, your wet hole stretching around the length of him.

Joel begins stroking faster, his hips snapping into you at a blinding pace. Your fingers dig into his back when he rocks into the spot that makes you arch your back and moan his name.

He smiles, satisfied with the pleasure his cock gives you. “Right there?” He asks as he continues to mercilessly drill into you, pounding your sweet spot over and over again.

“Yea—oh my god, Joel—yes!”

He’s already pushing you towards your next orgasm and he can sense it. He repositions your bodies, folding you nearly in half as he brings your knees up.

You scream out as the altered position lets him stroke deeper inside you. His cock hits your cervix, pain and pleasure meshing together, forcing you closer to the edge.

“You like that, sweetheart?” Joel asks as your moans increase in volume. “Look at your pretty pussy juices making a mess… so fucking wet.”

You look down where the two of you are connected. You watch as he disappears inside you and then reappears again, shiny with your slick. The image makes your head spin.

“I… oh fuck! I’m gonna… I’m gonna—”

“You’re gonna cum on my cock for me? Huh?” His strokes are becoming more erratic, his own orgasm approaching. “Gonna let me feel that pussy grip my dick while you cum?”

Joel’s filthy words combined with his dick destroying your cunt sends you over. You yell out as your orgasm knocks over you. Your pussy pulsates around Joel, pushing him over the edge. You milk his cock as he cums, his dick twitching inside you as his warm seed fills your hole.

The two of you lay there a while, Joel softening inside you as his body envelopes yours. When your body has relaxed and your breathing has slowed Joel softly presses his lips to yours. He rises and slowly pulls out. You feel your combined arousal spill out of you once he’s completely out of the warmth of your cunt. You immediately miss the fullness he gave you when he rolls over to lay beside you.

The storm continues on outside. Fat raindrops pellet the cabin and the wind rattles the windows. Staying in was a good call, the sky was already darkening with the approaching night.

You look over to Joel. His eyes are closed, his face is soft and relaxed. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so calm before.

“Y’okay, sweetheart,” you ask, mirroring Joel’s words from last night.

Joel chuckles as he intertwines his fingers in yours. “Yeah. I am now.”

#Joel Miller #Joel Miller x Reader #Joel Miller x You #The Last of Us #Joel Miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #chantersboardwritessometimes

806 notes · View notes

sevikastrapjuice · 10 months ago

Text

🎥 | the campaign

pairing: kenji sato x fem!reader

words: 3758

synopsis: [name] [surname] is a world-renowned model and was scouted to do a campaign with Japan's sweetheart, Kenji Sato for the well-known brand, Calvin Klein.

author's note: the one-shot is intended for mature audiences, as it contains sexual descriptions.

Owner of a caring personality and a body to die for, [name] [surname] has conquered an assertive place in the industry as one of the highest paid models. You always wanted to pursue a career in modeling; living abroad and helping out your family as you climbed the social ladder with the main goal of rubbing shoulders with the most influential people. It seemed to you, like an amazing idea, and closer to obtain than you could ever imagine.

In this particular day, [name] was absolutely stoked about the new campaign ahead! She had been working out, taking care of her body and maintaining a healthy diet. Everything in her power to be as prepared as possible for the photoshoot, later in the day.

At this moment, Reika, your best friend and manager, is lecturing you about how everything is going to happen. Brand details; location; the campaign itself...you always loved to get ready for a photoshoot. The thrill of meeting a new team was different every time and the butterflies, anxiously flying inside your stomach were no different as well.

"So, Reika, can you please stop with all this secrecy thing and tell me about the campaign! I know it's a "couple's" photoshoot so...who'll be my pair??" your air quotes, paired with your disgusted expression and eye roll, made Reika laugh at the sight of you. She knew the time would come, when she would have to reveal it to you...she was hopeful your attitude about it would be professional. She knew how much you hated Kenji Sato.

"Sooo...you'reshootingthecampaignwithKenjiSatothat'sit" the manager's fast speech caught you off guard, [name] could tell the information Reika had for her wasn't gonna be to her liking and she was right.

"Can you stop joking around and just tell me, like a normal person?"

Sure, she could announce that information to you but Reika knew that, even though your job required professionalism and seriousness, you couldn't maintain those attributes when it came to working; interacting; or even talking with/to Kenji. Reika knew how you fell about him and, consequently, your reaction was deeply awaited by the woman in front of you.

"You're shooting the Calvin Klein campaign with Kenji Sato... — you open your eyes, as wide as you possibly can, Reika doesn't even let you start a sentence, immediately interrupting your train of thought — I know! You don't like him and even though, I'll never understand why...I feel obligated to tell you that this photoshoot is more important than anything else"

You muttered in utter disbelief, baffled by such a disrespectful decision made by the people surrounding you. Reika crosses your arms, looking at you and as she frowned, you stopped.

"Right, okay, fine! Let's do this shit! The sooner we launch the campaign, the faster I can get rid of that cocky player" your reply caught Reika off guard as she was expecting you to react obnoxious and childish. She smiled and placed a hand on your shoulder, rubbing it up and down, showing you some sort of support.

"That's the spirit! Now, get ready! We need to get going." her eye smile makes you relax a bit, reaffirming how calming of a personality Reika has and how it affects your mood.

Grabbing the keys to your convertible on top of the kitchen counter, you two leave the house, full of excitement and expectations about the important photoshoot ahead you. "Body" by Megan Thee Stallion blasted on the radio, listening to music was your way to get into the photoshoots and interviews. One of the instruments you adopted to feel yourself and hype, music! Oh, and what an amazing way to calm your nerves, always worked. You always made sure to show up to your events or shoots with some treats for the team, and this time was no different! You stayed up, baking the night away, but the little cupcakes tasted, not to brag, divine.

As you pull up to the studio, Reika helps with the cupcake boxes. The ambience smelled so delicious, who knew that, besides being the hottest model in the world, you could also dribble in the kitchen world. A box full of surprises.

The photographers were awaiting you, as you were the last one arriving at the studio. Seeing all those people looking at you made you feel somewhat uncomfortable, as your cheeks automatically gained a dusted shade of red. You are a model, but you hate being the center of attention, especially the wrong one.

"Hello [name], I'm Kaito Hamato, I'll be the director for this shoot. It's so nice to meet you. Behind you it's your fitting room, the clothes are organized accordingly so, whenever you're ready" his smile was patient, you could tell he was nice by the way he guided you to the fitting room. The moment you enter that room, everything clicked! You'd be wearing lingerie in the same vicinity as that cocky player who thinks everyone is obsessed with him. You hated that. Sure, you couldn't deny, he sure was nice to look at, but either way, your focus on your job was way bigger right now.

Sitting in front of the mirror with your eyes closed as the makeup artist finishes your makeup, you couldn't help but to feel another presence in the area. Could be a heavier presence, meaning, a male one. It was until you heard the squeak sound of the makeup chair a few inches from you, that you slowly opened your eyes, only to see THE Kenji Sato sitting next to you, getting his makeup nice and fresh again.

The slow eye roll you gave him, made him chuckle. That reaction of yours was always automatic at the sight of him.

"Wow, I didn't even said a word! Is that the power I exude over you? I'm flattered" his sarcastic and overconfident tone was sending you through the roof, you couldn't help but to squeeze your hands as hard as you could, making them get a shade lighter, such was not your annoyance expression.

"You're a complete prick, I hope you know that" your disgusted semblant is noticeable for miles and miles, you promised Reika to be civil and respectful but...with such an idiot by your side, those promises are sort of impossible to keep.

"Prick, huh? Trying out a new nickname, are we?" Kenji slightly lifts his eyebrow, pushing his tongue against the inside of his cheek and looking at you for a hot minute. He won't even try to deny, he loves that game you two play. Still, he seems to not understand why the cold shoulders from your end, but how he loved to tease you. You were so easy for him to tease and make angry.

"Baby, you wish you had that much importance to me" the makeup artist gives you permission to get up from the chair, telling you to step into some other room to change outfits. The talk between you two ended as soon as you told Kenji you'd see him in a few minutes for the photoshoot.

In the makeup room, he runs his hands through his hair, shook by this interaction. It's not that he didn't want to have that intimacy with you, because believe me, he was thirsty for it. But reaching you seemed too impossible, not even the most difficult women to conquer were as difficult as you have been.

When he received the campaign's proposal with you, he was thrilled, as he thought that, finally, he would have a chance to spend more time with you. Your encounters always seemed too fleeting for him, and he hated that.

"Mister Sato, [name] is ready to start shooting the campaign, we just need you, to start." Kaito informs, with the tender smile that characterizes him. Kenji nods and then gets up. His pecs, covered in oil for a wet look and the boxers that highlighted his body in a completely sensual way were all the directors needed to make sure the campaign was a success! Kenji was Japan's sweetheart after all, so would it be too soon to say, the campaign would be a worldwide phenomenon? I guess not.

"Is the princess ready?" your voice echoed in his ears, he was about to talk back at you when he completely froze. The body that stood in front of him, was also oiled up, highlighting your muscles and abs, as you crossed your arms the Calvin Klein bra made your breasts the center of attention. Seeing you like this drove Kenji wild, it was like he was seeing you in a different light, like a woman and not one of his one night conquests.

"Let's do this thing!" his absence of a comeback made you wonder what happened, he always had something to say and something to do in order to make you mad. You frowned but soon relaxed and agreed.

"So, this is a couple's campaign. I'll give you the directions, just follow them to the best of your abilities. [name] please, kneel in front of Kenji and straddle his legs. Make sure to lean forward."

While you're getting ready, one of the other photographers is helping Kenji out with his pose. He is seated with one leg bent and the other extended, holding your waist with one hand while his other hand rests on your thigh. You're are facing each other closely, foreheads touching, creating an intimate and affectionate moment. His cold hands make you instinctively shiver in contact with your warm skin. Your reaction caughts Kenji by surprise but it's pleasant to him, seeing you react to his touch.

Reika is happily observing the moment, feeling butterflies in her stomach and obsessing over your interaction with Kenji. She always thought you guys looked amazing together and when Calvin Klein reached out to her to discuss the next campaign, she was actually more excited about it than you.

"You smell really good" Kenji whispers, trying not to draw the photographer's attention as they're correcting your positions. You can't help to shyly smile as you hear his low voice next to your ear.

"T-thanks! You smell really nice as well" your voice sounded different than before. It was smoky, almost soft spoken, way different from the rough tone you used with Kenji earlier. Your cheeks, now painted a dusted coral shade, showed Kenji how comfortable you were with him. His broad smile, showing off his straight teeth could make you melt right there.

"Right kiddos, let's try another pose, this one was amazing. We're leaving for lunch after this one. I want to see something fun, out of the box. Kenji please use this chair, you sit on it and spread your legs. [name], you go sit at the edge on Kenji's knee."

You two do as you're told. However, you can't help but to add some details to the pose as you slightly bend down at the waist, leaning forward with your hands on the thighs. You're now dressed in the same grey lingerie and a denim jacket. Both of you can see the contentment in Kaito's face, his semblant was contagious.

Kenji's knee in contact with your pulsating cunt makes it hard for you to keep controlling your moans. He can feel this pose has some affects, as your pussy keeps getting warmer by the pose you guys are doing. Sato smirked and decided to add his own twist on the pose, grabbing your hair making you face the ceiling as your hands automatically go behind your back, holding onto his thighs. The photographers watching could feel the heat of the moment surrounding the studio, Kaito was living for every second of the photoshoot, he could see the billboards; the money; even more fame for the both of you; it was all coming together.

"Perfect! I can see this campaign will be grand guys. We'll have a lunch break now, feel free to change Kenji and [name]. See you in 40 minutes."

While the team prepared to head out for lunch, Kenji and you completely desfigured the pose you were in, relaxing a bit and heading off to each other's fitting rooms. Your heartbeat was increasing it's pace, you thought it might explode! Suddenly, he didn't piss you off that much? It was weird to think but, having in consideration the state he left your pussy during that fucking pose, it was appropriate to claim he left your heart skipping a beat.

It was just you and Kenji in that studio, he was in his fitting room and you in yours. For some odd reason, his shoulders and back hadn't left your mind, it's like those attributes of his were glued to your memory and refused to leave.

"Did I turned you on that much?" you froze, causing a huge vibration to run through your body, almost causing your trembling legs to collapse right there. Looking in the mirror in front of you, Kenji was pervertedly checking you out, measuring every inch of your almost naked body. His side smirk just caused you to feel even warmer for him.

"D-dont, don't know what you're talking about" The undeniable shake in your voice was everything Kenji needed to hear before turning you around to face him. Your face in between his long fingers as he squeezed those soft cheeks of yours, he loved when you had to look up at him and he loved putting his strength upon you, so those pretty eyes of yours would become teary.

"C'mon baby, I felt it! That warm pussy of yours gave you away"

As he kept squeezing your face in between his fingers, his other hand made a sinful path from your breasts, down to your stomach, reaching the soft material of your underwear. He'd look down and up, seeing you widen your eyes at his bold attitude. His cold hand, making it inside your underwear, touching your pussy, made you whimper and close your legs as the cold impact sent you shivers up your spine. Your hand, griping onto Kenji's forearm, would be filled with nail digging marks. The stimulation felt good and all but you needed freedom to talk to him when the moment required you to.

"Don't be so full of yourself Kenji" your words came out with some difficulty, that muffled voice of yours, by the position your mouth was in was making you anxious. You wanted to use your words as clearly as possible, without shaking or revealing any weakness, but how could you? Kenji was driving you crazy.

"You've been playing hard to get ever since you arrived, darling" Kenji slowly releases your face, caressing your cheek as a final contact. Your eyes meet, staring at each other, communicating everything you wish to say in words during your eye contact.

"I don't think I'm gonna last that long if you keep teasing me like that" your voice was needy, your entire body craved his touch. Surprise clouded his features, as Kenji's cat eye looking eyes darkened in pure desire.

"Always so impatient, beautiful? I can work with that." He remarked, guiding you towards the fitting room's couch, laying you down gently.

Kenji can't resist to pinning you down, placing each arm on each side of your shoulders and opening your legs with the help of his knee, positioning his leg in the middle of your bottom limbs. Your impatient whimpers make Kenji smile in satisfaction at the effect he has on you. The female body underneath Kenji, trembling at his invested knee contact against the thin fabric of her panties.

"Please...I beg you Kenji, fuck me" you desperately gasped at Kenji's touch against the fabric of your panties, almost begging him to tear them off your body.

"You sound so good using that pretty mouth of yours to beg for it. I'll make sure you have a great time" his lips get stuck like glue to your neck, you could mentally count the kisses and melt at the same time. Your nails, scratching his nape made him go wild, he couldn't control himself anymore, Sato needed you.

With one fast move, your panties are long, ripped apart, forgotten in some corner. You open your eyes in surprise, feeling thrilled at the moment. As your faces drew closer, the world around them seemed to fade away. His lips were soft and inviting, a perfect match for the warmth of your own. Their breaths mingled, a sensual and needed dance of anticipation and desire. A tentative brush that sent shivers down their spines, growing deeper and more urgent as you two surrender to the moment. Your tongues, working in unison to create a hot environment, you both needed each other.

"O-oh my...God! I can't- please- fuck me-" You said in between the kiss, your hand gently reaching the waistband of Kenji's boxers, feeling his pulsating cock in the palm of your warm hand. He grunts as soon your hand touches his member in despair.

He stands up quickly, Kenji's boxers already around his ankles. His massive cock makes you gag in shock by the size of it. Precum already sliding down his swollen tip, making you salivate.

As you're admiring his full body, you feel in your mind the need to sit down on the couch, opening your legs to him. The bralette is long gone as well, revealing that amazing set of tits of yours.

"Sit on my face, I want to taste you" Kenji walks towards you, laying down on the couch. He bites his bottom lip, seeing you get close to his face. Each leg of yours on each side of Kenji's head, his warm breath in contact with your clit makes you shiver. He pushes you down, grabbing onto your thighs, squeezing them tightly and aggressively. Your loud and startled moan echoes in the fitting room, his wet tongue drawing circles around your clit makes you reach out for his hair, grabbing onto it. With one hand on Kenji's locks, the other one is free to start masturbating the man underneath you.

The man's vibrating whimpers make you ride his face as you feel your pussy getting wetter and wetter. His cock is too big in comparison with your hand, that keeps stroking the full extension of his pulsating member. He was looking at you, riding his face without mercy, like a life size dildo, he was enjoying it so much.

"FUCK- I'm- gonna come" you thirsted your hips back and forth, riding Sato's face faster as you start feeling a buildup of pleasure, the tension accumulating in the lower region of your stomach was an indicator of the orgasm ahead.

His tongue movements increased rapidly, he wanted to provide you with the most intense orgasms.

As you're feeling contractions in your genital area, accompanied by involuntary muscle spasms, a sense of euphoria feels your body. You can almost hear your hear beat increase abruptly as you reach your climax. Can't help but to smear your cum all over Kenji's face who, satisfyingly smiles seeing how much he made you cum.

"Lay down gorgeous, I'll make you cum again...but now, on my dick"

With a fast and simple move, for Kenji, he switches positions, getting on top of you. He positioned himself between your legs, rubbing his wet hardness against your needy opening, begging to be ravished by Kenji's hard wood.

All this teasing got your body going into a frenzy, as he pushed his cock inside you, you pushed him closer by hugging him. Your lips went directly into Kenji's neck, biting it and sucking on it, suppressing your gasp as your pussy was getting stretched by the extension of Sato's dick.

Kenji's manhood, hitting your g-spot several times made you dig your nails through his entire back. He was loving the way your body was reacting to being fucked by him, your eyes, getting blood shot from all the pleasure and all the heat was unbearable for him to watch without wanting to destroy you.

"My dear Lord, you're so mesmerizing like this, I could get used to fucking you every day" Every word, every stroke, every moan was a demonstration of how much the both of you were enjoying each other's bodies.

You put your wrist on your mouth, biting down onto it, you're grasping for air at this point! Feeling your neck tense up, hurting so hard that it's good. Kenji's blood flow on his genitalia was building up, indicating an orgasm. He feels his heart rate, muscles and neck tense as your pussy walls make it hard for him to escape your insides. Both of you are going to come, sooner or later.

"You're- that- fuck...that pussy of yours...so addictive...I'm gonna cum baby" His face, now facing the ceiling, reveals to you, his climax is near, as well as yours.

"Me to-too daddy...cum inside me...p-please cum inside my pussy" Your voice sounded desperate, you needed this, completion for both of you was near and you couldn't stop thinking about his warm cum dripping from the inside of your needy cunt.

You arch your back and squeeze your tits as your eyes seem to go crazy, going into the back of your head. Kenji on the other hand, pushes one hand down on your stomach, feeling his huge cock inside your body and it makes him go feral. By instinct, you wrap your legs around his waist, making it impossible to escape your embrace and carve nonsense lines with your nails all over his back. You two were coming in tune, each other's cum getting mixed up inside you felt so good.

"You're such a good girl!" He says, a little out of breath, while removing his cock from your inside your pussy, admiring how much cum is dripping onto the couch.

"And you're a sex god!" You smile, stealing a passionate kiss from him. Your body felt totally different, lighter, almost like you were getting drunk off the smell of sex hovering everywhere in the fitting room.

"Kenji? [name]? Are you guys in there? Let's continue on with our photoshoot!" Kaito's voice was heard from the outside of the fitting room. The two adults inside got up, eyes widened. Analyzing the room would give the impression an hurricane went by and destroyed everything (and everyone! *wink wink*)

"We. Are. Fucked."

Both of you said in unison. You guys were in fact, fucked!

#ken sato #kenji sato #ultraman #ultraman rising #ken sato x fem!reader #kenji sato x fem!reader #ken sato x reader #kenji sato x reader #ken sato x you #kenji sato x you #kenji sato smut #ken sato smut

918 notes · View notes

themissinghand · 1 year ago

Note

Hello..I hope you have a wonderful day..I'm glad to see you..Can I ask Sung Jinwoo x cheerful female reader..Reader met Jinwoo for the first time when he was still E rank..Reader fell in love with him first ..She is always by Jinwoo's side when Jinwoo is always looked down upon by others.She also helps Jinwoo financially because she want to help him as much as possible.And the Reader meets Jinwoo's younger sister, Jinah and straight up says 'please let me marry your brother'..(Surely the situation will be lively with the behavior of both of them .(⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)..)..Jinah like aa okay??...Reader must be surprised when they see Jinwoo's new look.Reader be like: 'Where is my baby boy!!!.. As far as I know about he, he doesn't have a twin!!” dramatically…

Okay... Thank you... Take care of yourself(⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠).. Hope you are not stressed by my request.. Bye-bye(⁠θ⁠‿⁠θ⁠)..

Solo Leveling: Little King, Big King

Summary: In which Jinwoo will always be your little king, even if puberty hits him hard.

Pairing: Sung Jinwoo x cheerful F! Reader

Note: Such a cute request! As well, thanks for your patience, sorry that I took so long!

Warning: None!

★・・・・・・★

“What is a kid doing here?”

Jinwoo perks up when he hears someone approach him. He turns around, seeing a taller girl staring at him with a cheeky smile.

“Heya! Are you okay? Are you lost? How old are you?” She bombarded him with questions, and Jinwoo felt overwhelmed by her curiosity. Were she from another team? Probably, he had never met her before.

“Hold on. You’re hurt.” She pulls out a potion, and without giving Jinwoo time to react, she immediately gave it to him.

“Drink little guy. Next time, don’t wander into a dungeon by yourself alright? It’s dangerous.”

“I’m 16.” Jinwoo deadpanned, and she gasped dramatically.

“No way, me too!” She cheered, and Jinwoo sweatdropped at her cheerful personality.

“Hold on, drink first. Then I’ll take you with me! You’re from the other team right? They abandoned you here? What a crazy bunch of adults!” Her words spew out of her easily, making Jinwoo a bit flustered in keeping up with her speed. Instead, he only nodded absentmindly, staring at the potion in his hand.

“Drink up little guy. What are you waiting for? Big sister will help you.” She grinned, and waited for him.

Big sister? We're literally the same age.

Seeing her insistence, he drank the potion anyway, feeling his injuries and fatigue wash away.

“Now you look better! Come on, I’ll help you get back to your family.” She extended her hand that was also full of calluses. Was she also working like him?

“My name is (L/N) (Y/N)! What’s your name?”

“...Sung Jinwoo.” He accepted her hand, and she shakes his hand firmly.

“I finally met someone my age in the dungeons!” She then started leading the way, leading him away from his team who had already abandoned him, and toward another group of people.

“I’m a gunslinger by the way, so I use guns. I’m only a C-rank though, but I have good eyes like a scout! What about you?” He flinches when she asked, and he felt ashamed of his own weakness.

“I’m an E-rank hunter.” Jinwoo pull apart, feeling the embarrassment settle in, and he didn’t dare to look up at (Y/N), after all, she probably is disappointed-

“Okay, do you want to come with me?” Despite it all, your cheerful expression did not falter.

Well, it’s better than here.

Jinwoo took your hand without looking back.

Jinwoo was used to the judging eyes and disapproving looks.

So he was bewildered to see you blissfully walk past them without a single care in the world.

Were you just simply ignorant?

“Ignore them. They’re always gonna judge others and put us down.” Jinwoo felt a squeeze.

“I know how you feel.” Jinwoo wondered what expression you have now, and when you turned around, you had a gentle smile on your face.

“Come on, I’ll treat you to some convenient store food. I’m starving and I earned enough.”

Jinwoo followed her into the store, and watched her skip and twirl until she stopped in front of instant ramen. Then, she shoved it towards him.

Before Jinwoo could say anything, she patted his shoulder.

“At times like this, we have to stick together! Just because we poor, doesn’t mean we’re a doormat!”

Jinwoo blinked, but he couldn’t hold back his laugh.

“Aww, you’re so cute when you laugh! Like a teddy bear!” Her compliment made him blush and hide away, but she didn’t stop pestering him about it until they finally got their ramen ready to eat.

“Hey, add my number, you’re in a tough spot right?” Jinwoo flinches, feeling shame, but seeing your concerned face, he felt relieved.

“I’ll help you, and when you grow up, you can pay me back! Promise?” Sticking out your pinky like a child, you grinned brightly.

Jinwoo could only smile gratefully, before locking pinkies.

There and then, a promise was made.

“Mom! Jinwoo-oppa got fried chicken for us! And he brought a friend over!”

It’s been a couple of months since that promise, and to his surprise, you didn't break the promise. In fact, you supported him...a lot.

“Oh dear, you didn’t have to.”

“Nice to meet you Auntie, my name is (L/N) (Y/N), and this one's on me. Don’t worry!”

“You’re too sweet, but we can’t-”

“It’s okay! Jinwoo helped me a lot, so this is me paying him back!”

JInwoo watched as you debated with his mom, going back and forth until his mom gave in with a smile.

Before he knew it, everyone gathered around the table and began digging in. Soon, Jinah began bombarding you with questions, such as how you met, and-

“Do you like my oppa?”

“Of course I do! I’ll marry him when I grow up!”

Jinwoo froze in embarrassment, while his mom was simply a little bit surprised, before a cheeky and playful look replaced it quickly, just like his little sister.

“Really?”

“Yep! He’s the cutest boy I’ve ever met! He’s so sweet and cuddly like a teddy bear-” Jinwoo slaps a hand over your mouth while his face remains bright red.

He felt your lips move still, as if joking or teasing him.

He felt questioning and teasing stares from his family, and he knew that they would never let this go.

One meal turned into multiple, until your presence became a norm at his little home.

“Auntie! I got you and Jinah some skincare! You have to try this!” And your relationship with his mom and sister has grown a lot.

A little too much.

“Aigoo, you didn’t have to buy something so expensive for us.”

“It’s okay Auntie! You always make me delicious food!”

“Oppa.” Dazed, it took Jinwoo a moment to direct his attention to his sister, who had her arms crossed.

“When are you going to marry (Y/N)-unnie?”

“W-What?!” She rolled her eyes at him.

“You better marry her soon or else someone is gonna steal her away!” His sister gives him a little pat of encourage before she runs off towards you and his mom and joining in on the skincare talk.

He watches as you turn towards him and gave a cheeky little grin before you were tackled into a hug by Jinah.

Can you really ask you for marriage? Does he have the right to ask you when he’s still this weak? He still needs to rely on you to survive.

He can’t, at least not now.

When he grows up, Jinwoo promises to pay you back and protect you.

He just hopes that day will come soon.

“Jinwoo!”

He can’t die now.

Even if his vision is blurred by blood or if hope is nothing but a bitter dream.

He won’t die here.

“Jinwoo?”

Just as surprised as you were, Jinwoo noticed that he was much taller than you now. He chuckled, noticing how you seemed very confused as you peaked around him, as if analyzing and trying to figure out what is going on.

“Jinwoo doesn’t have a twin right…?”

“(Y/N), it’s me.”

It took a moment for you to process before you held his arms as your eyes turned glossy. Jinwoo panicked as he saw you were going to cry, until you suddenly squeeze his cheeks.

“Where did my cute teddy bear go! I mean you’re still handsome but...my little king!” He felt a harsh tug and he stumbled forward into your arms.

“How did puberty hit you this hard!? Was it because you were cursed and then after you woke up from a coma, you finally were able to grow?”

What is this? Some cliche manhwa plot?

Jinwoo pull you apart easily, shocking you again, but instead he pulls you into a hug.

“Don’t worry, I’m still your teddy bear.”

“But you’re too big for me to spoon you now!” Jinwoo bursts out laughing at your pouting face which is full of disappointment.

“(Y/N), I’ll spoon you.” Before you could say another word, he holds your hand tightly.

“(Y/N), remember our promise long ago?” You nod slowly, clearly missing his old self.

“I’ll protect you, and pay you back for everything you did for me and my family.”

“You don’t have to-”

“It’s a promise, and we pinky promised it.”

“Not fair! How come your puppy eyes are still the same even when you’re big!” You playfully cross your arms, before a cheeky grin appeared on your lips.

“Fine, treat me to fried chicken okay?”

“Anything you want.”

“Let me spoon you?” Jinwoo laughs.

“If you can.” He ruffles your hair, making you jump and punch him playfully.

“Jinwoo! This is why I like your little version better! At least he was cute and he listens to me-” Jinwoo pulls you closer by the waist, making you yelp by instinct.

“Am I still not cute?” You push him away.

“You’re handsome, not cute. There’s a difference.” Jinwoo smirks when he sees you turn away with a blush on your cheeks.

“Unnie, you can just marry him and then when you have children, there will be mini-versions of him again!”

“Jinah!”

JInwoo laughs, that actually doesn’t sound too bad.

#manhwa #solo leveling fic #solo leveling headcanons #solo leveling #sung jinah #sung jin woo x reader #sung jin woo #female reader #sung jin woo x female reader

1K notes · View notes

seleneprince · 1 month ago

Text

The Neglected! Wife from my yandere!batfam au

Name: Rosa Perez (only by default. Insert whatever name you want there)

-Hispanic inmigrant. She came to Gotham as a kid with her family, looking for a better life...and to expand their criminal empire.

-She was born into crime. She was raised in it, and damn good at it. It was the family bussiness, and from a young age she was pushed into taking part on the usual gruesome parts of the job.

-Killing, torturing, trafficking, all the drill. And when she got older, she became a sex worker too, which allowed her to scout for information to blackmail people, conspire against them in the most painful way...or end them in their most vulnerable moments.

-Her family built their empire from nothing. From the streets of their native country to the alleys of Gotham, they became a force to be reckoned with. And she was one of the most efficient, dangerous assets. The ace, the multitasker. There was nothing she wouldn't do if there was profit in it.

-They weren't the most loving or healthy family in the world, but they were all she had. In the end, they always got each other's back no matter what. And she didn't have many options anyway.

-Then, as a teen, she met a boy. The total opposite of her. Rich, composed, with impeccable manners and a deep, almost obsessive sense of justice and morality, as white and clean as the clothes he prided himself in wearing. A golden boy, brought up in the kind of luxury and privileges that you can only have by being born in the right family. She hated him on sight. And it was mutual.

-He represented everything she despised of Gotham's socialite. The lack of self-awareness over his privileged position, the ignorance of the systemathic oppression they were partly responsible for against people like her, the hypocritical morality he carried like an honor badge that was only valid when it came to certain problems but was actually full of loopholes. His smug confidence, his naïvety, his stupid belief that he alone could make Gotham a better place. Where the guilty would be punished accordingly and the victims avenged.

-It was laughable, really, if it wasn't so pathetic too. Which is why they always clashed whenever they crossed paths. He was too idealistic, she was too realistic. They were from completely different worlds, facing against each other like twisted mirrors.

-And yet, as time passed, as they grew up watching each other change, how the world around them evolved with them as well, something between them...shifted. She couldn't tell exactly when it happened, but the fights turned into fiesty debates. The debates into softer talks in rooftops or in his car. Maybe it began when he asked her to show him the world through her eyes, to help him understand better so he could actually make a difference in the future. Maybe it was when, along the way, she started to see the world through his eyes too.

-Without wanting it, without even meaning to, she started to like that boy. And then, she fell in love with the man he became.

-Neither of them could imagine how that taking that simple step would be the beginning of the happiest years of their lives...and their downfall.

-Because her man was broken, beyond repair, divided in two fragments of his soul that fought for control constantly and threatened to destroy himself. Sometimes it was him, the man she knew, and sometimes it was another one wearing his face.

-But she loved him. With every fibre of her heart, every nerve of her body, it all pulsed for him. With that man, she not only learnt the meaning of true love, she also learnt to love herself. And no one, not even that demon who stole his face sometimes, could take that away from her. Because beneath those broken fragments, beneath that darkness that threatened to swallow her too, she knew he was still the boy who made her feel alive like nothing else, who made her laugh until her face hurt, who stood with her when she fought her own demons.

-And yet...life has a really twisted and sick sense of humour. It loves to mess with them.

-She got pregnant for the first time, entirely by accident...and it wasn't from the man she loved.

-It had been a busy, drunk night, another one enduring the worst of her job. She was tired as well, and a rich man spotted her across the club she worked at. When he approached her, she told him the same words she threw at everyone who showed her that kind of interest:

"I don't come for free, sunshine."

-Turns out he had no problem with that. He could afford it. That and the whole club. And so, he ended hiring her company for the night. She recognised him too late, but she couldn't turn down a client. Specially not this one. No matter the conflict in her heart.

-Because how could she not recognise Bruce fucking Wayne himself? And given their story, no less?

-She remembers their first real meeting as if it was yesterday. Of course, that stupid night at the club wasn't the first time their paths crossed. Back when they were still young, foolish, and reckless in their own ways. His expensive car slammed into her, not hard enough to kill, but enough to send her stumbling back. Slammed into the hood, then rolled off, her bodyt hitting the pavement with a thud.

-She remembers already having a bad day, and that only made her see red.

-Before she knew it, before she could even think, she punched the window. Her bare fist colliding with the glass with a brutal force that could be explained by her rage (and maybe years of experience breaking bones). Glass spidered instantly under the impact, and she wasted no time in letting them know what she thought:

"Are you blind, rich boy?! The hell kinda driving is that?!

-And of course, because it couldn't be any other way, her lover, back when they still couldn't stand each other, was already storming out of the car to get in her face. Yelling

"What the hell, Rosa?! You just punched his car's damn window off. Are you fucking insane?!"

-And she screamed right back.

"Excuse me?! How am I the insane one here?!" she shot back, stepping toe-to-toe with him. "Your dumbass friend over here almost ran me over! All that money for expensive cars and yet you idiots can't fucking drive? Figures."

-And that was the first time she and Bruce Wayne saw each other, although she didn't actually see much of him back there. She was too busy standing in the middle of the street, in the middle of another full-blown screaming match with the future love of her life. And Bruce didn't get out of the car (probably scared they'll chew his head off if he intervened).

-And he never left his life after that. He always hovered on the edges of her world, one way or another, like two planets circling around the sun. Same orbit, but never actually making contact. Until, of course, that fateful night where her life changed forever.

-She barely remembers how it started. She remembers his hands, strong, calloused, nothing like the man she loved. She remembers words whispered in the dim glow of expensive hotel lighting. She remembers the kind of warmth that felt like a brief escape from her chaotic life.

-She remembers waking up alone and thinking: ·Good. That’s all it was meant to be."

-Then she went back to her life. She made out with her lover and everything went back to normal. And for a while, she didn't think of that one-night stand again.

-Until she was late. Until she had to take a test. Until she stared at two pink lines and felt her stomach drop.

-She was told to abort the baby by those close to her, since not only it would be another burden for her, but she wouldn't be able to give them a good life.

-However, she refused everytime. She briefly considered using the baby to get a hold of the Wayne's fortune, but she dismissed that thought quickly, and decided to keep her precious babygirl to herself instead. The high society wouldn't ever accept them anyway, and if they gave a shit, it'll be only to take her baby away from her.

-For the first time in her life, Rosa had something more worth living for. Something that was entirely hers, her own creation. And she refused to let anyone or anything take it from her. It made her realise romantic love didn't hold a candle to what she felt the first time she heard her baby's heartbeat.

-She could've told her partner the truth. She thought she deserved to know, but then...she saw it in his eyes. The genuine joy when he first held the ultrasound in his hands. The way he whispered, "She’s perfect, my love. She will be ours." Even though he knew she wasn't. Not really.

-So she told him a slightly concealed truth. That the father was a client, an accident from one drunken night. A faceless man neither of them needed to worry about, because she had no intention of letting know of this. She didn't want him involved. Not when she already had the perfect father for her babygirl right by her side.

-He had stepped into the role of father for her daughter without hesitation, with joy. And then, when she had the twins, his biological children, she thought that would be it. That everything would be fine. Bruce Wayne would never be part of her life. That she would never have to see him again or ask him for anything. She even left the gang and her work behind, ready to start anew with her new family and devote herself to them. She found a much cozier place as a waitress in the Iceberg Lounge (Penguin owed her some favours anyway).

-But life decided to fuck her over again.

-Suddenly, the man she loved was ripped away from her. His name was splattered across headlines, his legacy destroyed beyond salvation. Batman took him and Arkham picked him up, trapping him indefinitely in those endless walls of madness.

-The man who once held her at night, who whispered dreams of a better life, was now gone. Their protector, their provider, the one she trusted with hers and their chidren's future. Because he promised he wouldn't fail them. That he would always be there for them, and they'll build a happy future together, with a better Gotham once he fixed it to his image.

-Suddenly, she was alone. No allies. No protection. No way to keep her children safe.

-And when Gotham’s underbelly came knocking, those who had blood debts to pay with her other family, sent men to end her life in front of her babies, she realized something brutal and undeniable as she washed the blood of her hands:

-They weren't going to survive.

-Not if they kept living this way. Relying on others, trusting their lives in other's hands. She had to act. And now.

-And she saw it clear as a day. There was only one way to fix this. It was unthinkable, she hated it, but looking at her children's lost, scared faces, her heart squeezed painfully. Her feelings didn't matter. Whatever sense of loyalty she felt for her lover didn't matter. Her children were her priority.

-After she burned the house, with all evidence inside, she was interrogated by the police. She kept her kids behind her all the time, never letting a single officer so much look at them. She felt that she would claw the eyes out of whoever tried to talk to them. Then, Comissary Gordon took the lead and guided her to his car. She expected to be taken to the comissary for the boring, official procedure, but instead, he took them to a damn ice-scream stand.

-He paid for their orders, offered them seats and just. Sat there. Watching as the children ate their ice-scream peacefully, sometimes running around, as if the sugar made them forget what they just went through. And seeing Gordon's face when she asked him why, why did he do that, she realised that was precisely his intention. Make them forget, if only for those brief minutes.

-She's still grateful with him for it. He's the only person in the GPCD she tolerates.

-Afterwards, they stayed in an cheap hotel in the outskirts of the city. She couldn't go to her relatives, that's where her enemies would look. She hid, hid her children, and blackmailed the hotel's receptionist to keep their mouth shut about their presence with stuff she had about them from years ago.

-The following days were a blurr. Taking care of her kids, making sure they were safe, and stalking the hell out of Bruce Wayne.

-Watching, studying, looking for his weaknesses. She was going to force his hand somehow. She was desesperate, out of options, and completely determined to get to him.

-The constant thought clawed at the back of her head: "Find the man. Find his weakness. If nothing else, steal from him. Use his name. Use his resources. Use whatever you can. He owes you that much."

-And then? She saw it.

-Saw Batman, the untouchable legend, Gotham’s untouchable king, remove his cowl. And suddenly, it all made sense.

-Of course. Of course. The richest man in Gotham, who disappeared at night. The philanthropist with no actual time to be one. The cold, untouchable billionaire, who acted like a ghost in his own city.

-Bruce Wayne was Batman. The Dark Knight. And the man who put the love of her life in Arkham Asylum, ruining their lives.

-And there, along with the crushing shock, she felt a cold sense of satisfaction. Finally, she had it. She had his weakness. She knew exactly what to do.

-She put on her best dress. Dressed her daughter accordingly too. And after entrusting her youngest kids to a relative for a short while, she drove them both to Wayne Manor. Not before telling them that things were going to change for better now.

-She walked into his house, into his fortress, ready to make him pay. For the child he put in her. For the choices he made. For the consequences of his actions. Whether he liked it or not.

-She sat in the chair in front of him, poured herself a drink, and greeted him with a smile laced with venom.

"We need to talk, cariño."

-She slid a folder across the desk. Their daughter’s birth certificate, along with the pictures she took revealing his real identity.

-His eyes scanned the paper, and for the first time in his life, she seemed surprised. Shaken. He looked up to her with fire blisting in his eyes, but she smiled back.

"You took something from me, from us" she said, voice even, but dangerous. "You took him away. And now? You’re going to make up for it."

-She held her daughter's shoulder, finally getting him to look at her. Her fingers tightened in reflect. She reminded herself why she was doing this, why she had to. For the little girl besides her, and the other two waiting for them to return. She would throw herself at the mercy of Satan himself if she had to.

-Because this was his fault. Their father was gone because of him. She was alone because of him. Her children were in danger and almost died because of him.

-And so, like that, they got married. There wasn't a ceremony. Just signing the papers and exchanging rings. She didn't need more. Didn't want more. The only wedding she wanted flushed down the toilet when Batman threw her partner behind a cell.

-The four of them moved to the manor. Their bedrooms were alocated on the opposite side of the manor to theirs, isolating her further. She knew it was a punishment, the only way he had to get back at her. As if she cared. She didn't marry him for love or attention. She wanted his surname behind her kids' names so they were safe. Besides, she would've set the curtains on fire before sharing a bed with him.

-What she couldn't stand was seeing the cold indifference directed to her children, specially to her oldest daughter. The one who was a Wayne by blood. Okay, she couldn't expect Bruce to care for the twins, they weren't his biologically (and if God listened to her, he wouldn't ever know who their father was), but her oldest girl? Her precious babygirl? She was his. The DNA tests he took himself afterwards confirmed it. She was the breathing copy of Martha Wayne, for fuck's sake. Shouldn't that make him feel something? Anything?

-It pained her more than anything, because there was nothing she could do. She couldn't fix the crushed look in her sweet girl's eyes at the rejections, the constant dissapointment, the crushing realisation that her siblings didn't love her. That her new father didn't care about her.

-She almost broke when her little girl told her she missed her other dad, the one who actually loved her. She cried herself to sleep in her room. "I miss him too, my love. I miss the man who loved me."

-But this was their life now. This...this was for the best. She could handle a loveless, cold marriage. She also vowed to never follow her heart again, never rely on anyone else beyond the bare minimum. She trusted love to keep them safe, and it almost cost her everything. Never again.

-Let them look down on her, on her children. Let Batman's little soldiers hate her, resent her for blackmailing him. Let him ignore their daughter, the child he put in her because he couldn't use a fucking condom.

-At the end of the day, her children will be safe and healthy. And that's all that matters.

-If she has to go back to her roots and stain her hands with blood again to ensure it, so be it.

#batfam x reader #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfam x neglected wife #neglected wife darling au #yandere batfam x wife darling #yandere batfamily x stepmother darling #yandere bruce wayne #yandere bruce wayne x reader #yandere batfamily #reminder the name is optional #feel free to imagine the name you wish #same for the physical description #that's just what i have in mind #this ended up longer than i expected to ops #its just her story is deeper than i originally planned and it turned out like this #i'm not sorry #adding more about them in the future

227 notes · View notes