#I had a thought then that I could never pray for someone without taking action

[scamallach-1]

“What God Expects From Us” The Prophet’s Pulpit: Commentaries on the State of Islam Vol iii

[pegasusdrawnchariots]

🛡⚔️🏰🐎

[lucifers-rubber-duck]

𖤓 Can we keep them? 𖤓

Characters: Charlie, Lucifer, Alastor, Angel & Husker.

Warnings: None.

Summary: Reader suddenly appears with a baby Hellhound on their arms and asks to keep them, what would their reactions be?

𖤓Charlie

• She's extremely surprised when you appear with a baby Hellhound on your arms, even more when you asks if you could keep them.

• She would probably say yes without thinking, with her eyes shining of how cute the little dog looks, before she quickly shakes her head and tries to stand her ground better.

• She would probably lecture you of how much of a responsability it is to adopt a Hellhound, especially when they're still little and can't do much by themselfs, she would probably also info dump to you about them.

• She makes you promisse that if you're going to keep them you'll take good care of them, she actually helps a lot since she grew up taking care of Razzle and Dazzle. She acts like the cool aunt of your new baby.

• She's probably the best influence you could get for your child, she's just the sweetest and will help you teach the baby what's right and wrong, will read them bedtime stories, will teach them to sing and to dance. She's simply the best person you could ask for.

𖤓Lucifer

• He's a little confused at first, he never put much thought onto the creatures of Hell, but the moment you show him the cute puppy's face, he's melting and allowing you to keep it.

• He would try to help to take care of them but wouldn't be very good at it, he never did a proper research on the beings of Hell, he disliked sinners already, he saw no reason to even pay attention to the other beings his past actions had created.

• But after you adopt the little hound, he will personaly go talk to Beelzebub and ask her what he should do. He asks her tips, about the best snacks to give them, how many baths should a pup get by a day, he's going full dad mode.

• He doesn't take care of a child since Charlie was little and everytime your new baby runs to his arms when he walks in the room to say hi he's in the verge of tears, he'll hold your child on his arms and act like he's the actual father.

• Don't even think twice if you need anything for your pup, he's going to give it. They got sick and need a doctor? He's calling someone from the Ring of Sloth just for them. Need diapers or clothes? Boom, they're already at your door. Want to take your child somewhere fun? He'll give you two free access to his theme park Lu Lu Land all rights reserved.

• Man is just happy to be able to experience being a father all over again.

𖤓Alastor

• The moment you show him the Hellhound you can hear static piercing your ears and the air getting colder, a green energy coming out of him as his antlers grow bigger and his eyes turn dark with only red dots to be found in them.

• You get that it's a no pretty quickly and hides the puppy away before he can do anything about it.

• But you're not known for giving up easily and keeps the Hellhound even so, making sure they never get too close to Alastor, and by to close I mean in the same room, breathing the same air.

• You'll have to try your best to make Alastor slightly fond of the puppy. First trying to give up some signs that you wanted to adopt a baby, then start talking about all the perks a Hellhound has and then later slowly introduce both of them in the same spaces.

• Is like showing your old pet your newer pet and praying they get along, but the old pet in question is a powerful Overlord that can easily kill both of you and broadcast your screams to all of Hell and the new pet is a creature that is in the bottom of Hell's hierarchy.

• After weeks of trying he would just let you be to be honest, he says you can keep it if you stopped annoying him about and forcing him to interact with them. But sometimes you would find yourself trying to calm him down because the Hellhound decided to walk too close to him or even chewed a part of his coat off.

𖤓Angel

• He probably wouldn't mind and say that you could stay with them, it's not his business, it's yours, you do what you want.

• Would eventualy grow attached to the hound, probably not as much as some others, but he does enjoy their company.

• He likes being the bad influence and would 100% teach your child swear words. He wouldn't be as inappropriate around them tho, he knows his limits and was scolded by you enough times about his actions around such a young figure.

• I think if the hound ended up getting friends with Fat Nuggets he would care more, he treats his little pet pig as his own child and would find it rather adorable if they got along togheter, you know for sure he's snapping photos.

• Likes to play dress up with you and your child, he would already lend you some clothes and help you take care of your skin or paint your nails, etc. He would do the same with your Hellhound, dressing them up to look all fancy, brushing their fur and giving them little accesories. Y'all probably have matching shirts he buyed for fun.

• “Where did you found them again toots?”; “Doesn't matter, check out this new trick they learned.”

𖤓Husker

• Would probably say something like “I'm not your dad, do whatever the fuck you want” and keep going with his day.

• He would try to ignore the Hellhound as much as he can, he doesn't like children very much and his cat instincts can get the best of him sometimes, making him hiss at the sight of the dog.

• But he'll definitely call you out if you end up doing something wrong while taking care of them, he says he doesn't care while teaching you the proper way to hold and to feed them. If you ask how he has so much experience he'll flip you off.

• After some time with the Hellhound around, he'll start to accept babysitting them if you ever need to go out to work or to do a importat thing, don't blame him if the pup ends up learning a bad word tho, you are the one leaving them with a drunk bartender in his bar.

• The Hellhound and him would start to go really well together and you would find them sleeping in the couch of the hotel's lobby when you return late to the hotel thanks to work, your now adopted child sleeping on top of the man's chest, snoring and with Husker's wing around them both.

• You took a photo just to always remember the sweet moments and maybe use against Husker if you needed a favor from him, it always works and you get cute photos so it's always a win-win for you.

[biribaa]

I saw you were taking requests for The Amazing Digital Circus, so if you want can you please write Headcannons for Kinger, Caine, and a character of your choice x a reader who’s abstracting in front of them

Also remember to drink lots of water and to take breaks!

-🧪Anon

Kinger, Caine and Ragatha x reader who's abstracting in front of them

I appreciate your kindness but I'm a computer, I think water is one of the things I need to "drink" less and prevent more.

TW/CW: AHH... Spoilers, also angst. Reader does get abstracted in all scenarios cuz we still dont rlly know if someone can be saved from getting abstracted

Kinger

Imagine lost your partners TWICE. Lolololol loser/J

Everything seems to occur in slow motion from Kinger's point of view, a heart he once had is somehow beating against his body. He prays to any god on this earth, be it real or not, or even Caine maybe, that this nightmare isn't happening again to him. Please, everyone, but not you.

Kinger tries to do everything so his lover don't reach the great peak of their insanity, even though he's not very good at it, knowing his personality. But trust me when I said, he tried. Who cares if he will get all glitched for touching your form, he needs you.

He never thought he would live another nightmare inside a nightmare. And in seconds that felt like painful hours to Kinger, here "you" are, a noisy form covered in eyes that flash in different colors. Your skin (if we can call it skin) moves abruptly as if it were a bag full of enraged cats. And, god, how he wished it was him instead.

Things are resolved by the talking human jaw, and yet the silence in Kinger's little pillow fort is no longer comforting as it once was. Silence now makes the small chess piece itch in agony. Silence that could be enjoyed with your presence, with holding your hand or dancing with you, and chat about random stuff he and you knows. The feeling of missing someone is familiar to him, and yet, it hits him in ways that his years in this circus haven't hit him.

Caine

While Kinger tries to do everything, Caine actually does anything to try saving your corrupted mind, and the lack of power in this situation leaves the digital being in panic. A simple snap of the fingers is not enough, and this information makes him tremble in ways he never thought he would tremble before for a simple human.

You aren't just any character, you are his favorite, the lil' buddy he spoils every hour and that always push a giggle from him. You were his very own star. The show could continue the same without you, Caine was sure of it, but could he? Without a character as entertaining as you in action?

"Of course I can fix them, I am Caine!" It's a phrase that was repeated several times in the presenter's programming, But with every grunt coming from the thing that once was you, it's just a reminder to Caine that he did a horrible job trying to take care of you. There were other characters that were abstracted of course, but... You were special to him. His favorite star. His star.

Caine even feels hesitant to put you in the hole of other characters who were abstract before. He preferred to keep you in a cage away from other people's contact, with no one hurting you and no one hurting you.

He knows, he knows the painful truth that you cannot be considered a sapient being, but even though you are a trace of what you once were, Caine doesn't have the courage to lose you forever.

With the other characters, Caine will act normally, with his loud and lively personality. Only if they analyze Caine close enough, the characters would notice something wrong with him.

And then, sometimes, he just stares at you in the cage. Caine ponders if he should admit the lost of his favorite star, it would be easier, but the pride in his chest screams that there must be some way that he could actually save you from...this.

Ragatha

Somehow, the scene is all silent for her. Ragatha stares at you as if the impossible itself is happening in front of her.

Ragatha holds your hands about to disappear, she caressed what was left from your shoulders, she hurriedly whispers words that would normally calm you down, but nothing can save you from the fate of your sanity, just leaving her with the pain of being glitched.

Of course, she had her other friends like Pomni, but lost you?!

Ragatha thinks she saw everything during her new experience in the digital circus, but something common like losing someone so important was the end of the line for her. You were her darling, her sunshine and her little everything even.

Everything she did sounded slightly more boring and boring without your presence, and Ragatha could do nothing about it. She continues (at least tries) to remain strong after that, still trying to complete the little adventures that Caine gives to the participants. But Ragatha's slow pace and lack of smiles was very noticeable.

The weight on Ragatha's chest is too much, losing someone so sweet and perfect for her in such a horrible way is too much. And the worst part is that Ragatha believes that she could have done something to save you, she could have been with you more often so that your mind didn't fall apart like this. But now, she can do nothing but mourn.

[g1rld1ary]

you never disappointed me - part three

part one part two part three part four

➻ synopsis: luke castellan x aphrodite!reader ; after beckendorf does some research with silena, luke finally knows how to ask you out (10 things I about you AU)

➻ word count: 2642

➻ warnings: ooc/kind of loser!luke, ooc silena, she/her pronouns used for reader, sexual innuendos, alcohol, smoking

➻ so i immediately got hit with a ton of uni work lols (so mean for first week??) so this took a little longer than expected sorries!!

TAGLIST: @myxticmoon @wicca-void @leeknows-wife @thekittyxo-blog @number-onekidqueen @instabull @slaybestieslay946 @sflame15-blog @yourfavmiki @ivory-sage

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

While you were being tormented by the two boys Camp Half-Blood (or maybe your mom?) kept sending your way, Charles was following Silena around like a lost puppy, noting down whatever she could find about you in your limited personal space in the Aphrodite cabin. After several minutes of nothing promising, he was starting to feel hopeless.

“She’s not a…” Beckendorf trailed off, looking for more delicate phrasing.

“Girl in Red fan? No. I found a picture of Heath Ledger under her bunk once so I’m pretty sure she’s not harbouring any queer feelings.”

“So that’s the kind of guy she likes? Pretty guys?”

“I don’t know,” Silena said impetuously, “All I’ve ever heard her say is that she’d die before dating a guy that smokes.” Beckendorf cringed. That was an issue. Silena continued mindlessly, digging through your drawers and belongings. She pulled out your reading list, planner and a sticky note of things you were going to do when you left after summer. Finally, Silena let out a devious giggle as she dug through your top drawer. She didn’t let Beckendorf wonder for long, as she pulled out a pretty pair of lacy black underwear.

It wasn’t the most scandalous piece of lingerie sitting in that cabin — not by far, but Beckendorf still blushed like the teenage boy he was, almost too afraid to look at the scrap of fabric.

“And, uh, what does that tell us?” He asked, eyes anywhere but the cloth.

“She wants to have sex someday, that’s what,” She said it as if it were obvious, and Beckendorf wished a hole would open up and swallow him down. He really didn’t want to be talking about your sexual desire right now.

“She might just like the colour?” He mumbled, hand running over his hair in an effort to ground him.

“You don’t buy black lingerie unless you want someone to see it.” Beckendorf felt kind of guilty, he figured he probably wasn’t who you had in mind when buying black lingerie, and it was starting to feel like a serious invasion of privacy. That was only heightened when Silena pointedly avoided telling him which area was hers, saying it was ‘private’. He rationalised his actions by praying to the Gods the plan would work and everyone would get a happy ever after.

Still, Percy and Beckendorf took this research to Luke in his semi-secret spot behind the training arena, where he could drink and smoke without being worried about being caught by the younger kids or Chiron. He didn’t look exactly happy to see them, but Beckendorf thought he might just be warming up to them.

“So, what’ve you got for me?” He asked, taking a swig of his beer.

“Insights into a very complicated girl,” Percy said, dislike of you obvious.

“Just one question,” Beckendorf asked “Should you be drinking if you don’t have a liver?” One of his new brothers had told him the rumour that Luke had sold his liver on the black market during his quest for a pack of cigarettes and a ticket back to camp.

“She hates smokers!” Percy interrupted, hopefully before Luke could process what Beckendorf had said, and very successfully redirected his focus as Beckendorf grabbed the lit cigarette out of his hand, snuffing it out on the dirt.

“So I’m a… non-smoker now?” Luke spat the words, sounding almost disgusted with himself.

“Just for now,” Beckendorf assured him. “And one more problem — Silena said that she likes ‘pretty guys’.” A tense silence fell upon them and Charles wished that sometimes he would think before he spoke. Luke’s gaze on him was heavy and intimidating, and if Percy wasn’t there with him Beckendorf probably would have cowered and escaped.

“Are you telling me I’m not a pretty guy?” Luke asked, and if he had to say, Beckendorf thought his attitude right now definitely wasn’t helping his case. He and Percy shared a quick look before reassuring Luke that he absolutely was a pretty guy, they just had limited experience in deciding those labels. Satisfied, Luke glanced at the list Beckendorf handed him of all of your interests and engagements. He frowned, and both the younger boys exchanged uneasy eye contact.

“So what, I’m supposed to buy her noodles and books and sit around listening to some shitty girl power band?” He asked, dread and boredom evident in his eyes.

“Have you ever been to Club Skunk? Her favourite band is playing there tomorrow night,” Beckendorf provided, disheartened by the quick shake of Luke’s head.

“I cannot be seen at Club Skunk.”

“But she’s gonna be there! She’s got tickets!” He protested, and Percy put a subtle hand on his arm.

“Dude, everyone you know is here. No one’s gonna see you at Club Skunk and think you’re less of a man or whatever. I’ll tell everyone you’re off in the woods smoking weed or something.” Luke looked at them for a long moment, seemingly considering the offer. Finally he agreed, and Beckendorf thought it may have just been to get them to go away, but he was happy enough.

Luke, having gotten over the humiliation it would be to go to Club Skunk, was more than interested at the new piece of information he’d just learned. He thought he was the only one who snuck out of camp, and he wondered how often you did it. Reasonably frequently, he guessed, since you were going to all the trouble to see a band that probably played around the state constantly. You just kept on surprising him, and though it was all a bit of an effort on his part, he had started to enjoy getting to know the parts of you that you kept hidden behind the icy exterior.

You, on the other hand, were getting really weirded out. You might’ve just been paranoid, but you were sure that the new Hephaestus kid who was friends with Percy kept staring at you. Even Percy glanced at you more than once during dinner, something you didn’t think had ever happened before — and you were not looking for attention from the camp’s golden boy, no matter how many times he’d probably saved your life by extension of his quests. Those two, coupled with Luke, whose attentions had inexplicably been focused on you for the last week, made you feel a bit like an animal on display; violently uncomfortable. As you left the meal you shot Beckendorf a nasty glare, somewhat satisfied when he jumped and averted his eyes. You shook your head in a physical attempt to clear the burdens of your thoughts. Soon you wouldn’t have to worry about any of the campers or the stupidity that flowed around the grounds.

About twenty minutes after the campfire started and the rest of the camp were safely together, you began the trek up to the Hamptons — the closest city with a venue. You waited anxiously for the bus to pick you up outside the camp lines, looking over your shoulder to ensure no one had caught you. If your adventures got around camp then Silena would absolutely tell your father as payback for being the reason she can’t date, and that was a whole new set of issues you really didn’t care to deal with. Luke, standing in the shadows watching, felt almost bad for spying on you. Almost.

You could feel your shoulders relax as you got further and further away from camp, the judgement and expectations of people you didn’t even like far behind you for the night. You’d been looking forward to this show since you got tickets with your friends during the school term, and you were determined to make it worth the pain of summer. And it really, really was. Your whole friend group had made it, making it a long awaited reunion, and the band was one you’d been following for years. You danced with all your energy, gleefully shouting lyrics and laughing loudly when you got them terribly wrong.

Luke watched this from his seat at the bar, entranced in your private bubble amongst the chaos. You were smiling — a rare sight at all at camp — but this was one he didn’t think he’d ever seen in all his years of knowing you. It wasn’t filled with pride like the ones you tried to conceal when you got a new record on the climbing wall or you finally beat Clarisse in a training match, nor was it the satisfied smirk you had when you put an egotistical camper in their place or beat up jerks like Ethan. Your smile was alight with joy; relaxed and wholehearted happiness that spread through the room and seemed infectious to anyone who passed you.

It was at that moment that Luke truly understood how you were a daughter of Aphrodite. The way the lights reflected off your hair and your eyes, the easy way you moved your body to the music, everything about you suddenly seemed perfect, and he wondered how he’d never noticed it before. Your appearance hadn’t changed drastically; your hair was loose instead of the practical up-do needed for camp, you wore a tight fitted crop top instead of the camp shirt and you might’ve had some glitter smeared around your eyes. All inconspicuous, ordinary things, yet you seemed like a brand new person. Luke decided he liked this version of you, and if this whole plan failed, at least he’d gotten a glimpse into your real world and behind the facade you hid with at camp.

He was ripped from his thoughts when he saw you make a drinking gesture to your friend, heading towards him unwittingly. He turned in his seat hurriedly, trying to act cool and unaware. You spotted him almost immediately, persona switching up as disgust crept back under your skin.

“If you’re going to ask me out again, could you just get it over with now so I can get back to enjoying my night?” You sighed, grabbing the water bottles from the bartender.

“Would you mind? You’re kind of ruining this for me.” Luke gestured around, hoping his acting chops were as good as he needed. You ignored it either way.

“You’re not surrounded by your usual cloud of smoke,” You noted, curiosity getting the better of you.

“I quit. Apparently they’re bad for you.” You raised an eyebrow, almost too surprised to come up with a quip.

“You did?” You hated how genuine it sounded and turned to go, sensing him get up to follow you.

“You know, I was watching you out there before,” He yelled over the music, “I’ve never seen you look so sexy.” In possibly the worst timing in history, the song ended and the entire club was treated to Luke’s compliment. You both flushed red, and you were unable to contain a small giggle — wildly uncharacteristic for you. Luke, to his credit, only had a mildly sheepish grin on his face, and continued to follow you across the dance floor. “Come to the Apollo party with me.” You couldn’t believe him! Here you were, miles from camp and he was still asking you out. Though, you couldn’t deny that he wasn’t quite as infuriating as you originally thought.

“You never give up, do you?” You gave a good natured sigh, ducking under someone’s arm to get to your friends.

“Was that a yes?”

“No.”

“Was it a no?”

“No!” You let out another laugh which floated over the crowd and straight to Luke. He couldn’t contain his own grin.

“I’ll pick you up at 9:30!” He yelled back. You gave no indication of having heard him apart from a momentary glance, and he couldn’t tell if the smile was directed at him or just a byproduct of your situation. He took it either way.

Having gone to the effort of sneaking away from camp, Luke decided to stay for the remainder of the concert and grudgingly decided the band wasn’t that bad. Not his style, sure, but he could kind of see why you liked them. Besides, these drinks were easier to get than the contraband ones he had to smuggle into camp.

Tired from a night on your feet dancing and feeling your pleasant buzz slipping away, you were less than charmed seeing Luke waiting for your bus. It made sense, obviously you were going the same place, but you didn’t want him to ruin your great night by pestering you about a date.

“What are you doing here?” You asked bluntly, eagerly sitting on the misshapen little bench.

“Getting home?” He trailed off, unsure of what you were looking for. “Besides, we’re a long way from camp and it’s late. Didn’t feel right leaving you here alone.” You hated that you thought it was sweet.

“Do you not think I can take care of myself?” You picked a fight instead, unwilling to be genuine with him. Luke wasn’t stupid enough to fall for it.

“I have complete faith in you,” He laughed, “I’m making sure you don’t kill whoever bothers you.” You let out a snort of a laugh accidentally. You tried to recover,

“It’ll be you if you’re not careful.” Somehow Luke didn’t believe you.

Surprisingly, the trip was almost pleasant. Luke had already gotten what he wanted from the night and the next phase of his plan was shaping up, so he knew bringing up your impending date would only sour your mood. Instead, when he plonked himself down in the seat next to you on the bus, you talked about mundane, silly things. He asked about the friends you were with and let you talk about your life in New York, waving you off when you started to feel guilty since he was at camp all year.

“There’s this really cool record store, we go there all the time. They have this huge bulletin board on one wall where these tiny little bands put up posters for random gigs with, like, fifty people there — it’s so sick, like the 90s I guess. Maybe —” You cut yourself off but Luke knew where you were going. Maybe I could show you. You would deny it if he brought it up, but he couldn’t contain his smile either way.

You were surprised that you had so much to talk about, briefly wondering why you’d never been friends with him before, but the conversation continued all the way to the camp border, where you both knew the risk of sneaking back in meant your night together was over. Once you got into camp there’d be people all around; campers should be in bed but counsellors often patrolled for a while, and many of the non-demigod folks around camp could be up and about well into the early hours of the morning.

“So, um, I’ll see you around?” His sudden shyness was unexpectedly charming, and you found yourself giving Luke a smile — a real one that made his heart flutter embarrassingly.

“Bye, Luke.” You held eye contact for a fraction longer than necessary before disappearing into the shadows. Luke watched you go, not quite starstruck but close to it. A rustle of the trees behind him spurred him into action, but the image of you on the dance floor played on repeat behind his eyes as he lay in his bunk.

[diana-rose-25]

— Seasons of Love

pairing: ex-girlfriend! Bada Lee x Reader

description: It left you a mess, the breakup with Bada Lee left you a mess. Promises broken and dreams together shattered, including you. Yet months after the unforeseen breakup, you know it's time to move on and choose yourself first, even after a certain someone enters your life again.

warnings: None. Angst

word count: 1106

status: unedited

now listening to:

"Hey," how you prayed to hear that voice months before. Yet with how cruel fate it, that is the sound of someone you no longer want to see ever again.

You blow the smoke out of your lips as the cold breeze of the night caresses your face, you hum in acknowledgment without looking at the person behind you. Too entranced by the city lights below you and frankly, too scared to face that person without breaking down in tears.

As you take another puff of the cigarette, you can hear the person make its way beside you and copied your position from the terrace, leaning against the barrier with her arms folded.

You let the silence engulf you both, only accompanied by the moon, the city lights, the heavy tension, and the music of the party inside, three feet apart.

Funny how this was the same night months ago, yet the atmosphere was much lighter, no party, only the company of each other, and bodies close and intertwined, at peace and happy.

Bada steals a glance from you, frowing as you take another puff of the cigarette between your fingers and lips.

"I thought you said you never liked or even tolerated smoking?" She asks before she can even think about it, cringing at herself for ruining the awkward moment in favor of asking you that question. She looks back at the city below as she discreetly pinches her arm.

"Yeah? Well, things changed I guess." You answered nonchalantly making Bada wither at the tone.

"Right," she clears her throat. "H-how are you?"

You roll your eyes at her, being nervous doesn't suit her, yet you couldn't care less.

Not after she so confidently broke up with you a couple months prior.

"Been better."

You've been working on yourself after she left you in the air on your own like a flightless bird thrown in the air by someone with a promise of catching you when you fall.

And fall you did in the dark abyss by yourself, drowning in your thoughts more and more after finding out she had someone new 2 months later.

Bada could only let out a cough nervously after your cold comment. She knows this is her fault.

Friendships and relationships were broken after what she did to you.

"(Y/N)?" She starts off, playing with her fingers as she looks at you. Adjusting her body to fully face you as she tries to reach out for your hand.

From your peripheral vision, you can see what she's trying to do. So without hesitation, you out the fire of your cigarette using the plate beside you and throw it out harshly out the street beneath you.

Bada recoils at the anger behind your throw and pulls her hand back.

You turn your head away from her, not wanting to see her hurt face from your action. Hoping she'll get the hint and leave you alone once and for all.

because standing here beside you hurts, it really hurts.

"I'm sorry." She says shakily, her hands forming into fists by her side to keep herself from crying in front of you. "I'm really sorry, (Y/N)."

You swalloed dryly, forcing yourself to let the tears stay in your eyes while you take a deep breath.

go away go away go away. Your mind repeats while your heart aches so much. you are the last thing I need or see right now.

You nod your head once without looking at her, and Bada wants to sob. Because deep down inside, she knew she did this to you.

She tried to get into a relationship after breaking up with you to forget, but it failed after a week. The cycle continues unhealthily but she knows her mind and heart will always return to you.

"C-come back," Bada breathes out quietly. "Please."

Funny how months ago, that was you. That was you begging her to come back after she left you in the dust with no explanation whatsoever.

Funny how you both were happy and content on a Thursday, and over on Saturday.

Funny how she expects you to do that after breaking up with you through text.

You let out a small laugh, finally allowing the tears to fall down as you stand up tall before facing her.

Bada never thought you could look any better than you already do despite your glossy eyes. You, wearing your favorite jacket and the wind blowing your hair, framing your face so beautifully. You, who she lets go in favor of listening to her fear without communicating with you. You, beautiful beautiful you.

"Stupid, stupid Bada." You say, walking towards her with hands in your pockets and a small smile on your face, yet it is deprived of happiness.

Bada wanted nothing more than to wipe the tear that went down your cheek, so she did. And you let it happen, resisting the instinct to lean into her warm palm.

"You willingly let me go months ago without hesitation," you start as Bada shakes hear head and gently cups your face this time with both of her hands.

"You chose to let me go without hesitation, Bada." Bada lets out a sob as she shuts her eyes tightly and presses her forehead against you.

You look at the woman you once loved break down in front of you, it aches your heart to see her like this. But you can't do anything about it but place your hand on top of hers, sliding your thumb against her in a comforting manner.

You both knew that this is the last time you'll ever be this close.

The last time Bada will get to hold you like this.

And the last time you'll allow yourself in her embrace and delude yourself that she'll choose you over anything else.

So you close your eyes and say, "there is no doubt and assurance in my mind that you won't do it again."

You step away from her and walk away before she can reach out and pull you close again.

Funny how you would give up anything to hear those from her months ago.

But this time, as you walk out of the door and away from the party, funny enough, that was the final thing you needed to do to finally let her go, and free yourself from the promises and dreams she once spoke.

This time, you're choosing your reality, no matter how painful it is to let go of someone you once loved.

It’s not always a happy ending, but its always a new beginning when a chapter closes.

— ©All Rights Reserved diana-rose-25

[redclercs]

— or, the one where you go back to square one.

✤ requested as part of the lavender haze event!

✤ ex! mick schumacher x fem reader, prompts used: “say you want me, and i’m yours.” + "what pretty noises you're making for me… am i making you feel good?" + car sex in the rain

✤ warnings: smut, slight angst, mutual pining, mdni!! little plot, fingering (f receiving), grinding, little bit of dirty talk, car sex, idk how to write car sex bear with me lmao, protected sex, piv, hair pulling. while the actions portrayed in this writing are consensual, do not take this as an example and be smart about having sex!! 2k words (this was supposed to be a really short drabble)

visit the lavender library

It’s a make it or break it situation every time you see Mick.

Not your fault really, things with him never go the way you plan them in your head and there is no use in being angry anymore, life happens and that’s that. Your attempt at being something else with Mick had met its dead end sooner rather than later, and like a pair of fools you told each other you could go back to being friends, as if nothing had happened.

But honestly, how are you supposed to look at Mick as just your friend again? When all you can picture when you close your eyes are scratches that run down his back and the hickeys on your neck.

"What are you thinking?" he asks, pulling you out of your thoughts like he always does when he notices that faraway stare. "Everything okay?"

Unable to hold back your eyeroll, you nod. "Just great."

Mick frowns and then shrugs, he doesn't want in-depth explanations of your feelings lately. It's not that he doesn't want to deal with them, but he doesn't know how to without making a burden out of his own.

He flashbacks constantly to the night the decision of being 'just friends' was made between the two of you. It was for the best, or so he thought and the momentary relief he'd felt when you agreed didn't compare to the anguish that followed him since your friend let it slip that you were moving on with someone else.

It's possible he's taking you straight to someone else right this second, as you're on your way to a party hosted by one of your mutual friends. He shouldn't have agreed to this, and he's been praying for something—just about anything—to get in the way, so you can't make it to your destination.

You turn the volume of the radio up, you hate the song, but you don't think you can go on with the only sound being the rain pattering outside the car.

Mick's prayers are answered when the rain starts falling so heavy, it's impossible to see further than a few meters, even the headlights of the rest of the cars are hidden through the curtain of water falling from the sky.

"Should I pull over?" he questions, albeit stupidly. It's the best course of action right now and he is in no rush to continue the journey. "It's safer."

You shrug again, feigning disinterest although your body has tensed. "Fine by me."

Mick stops in a lay-by, turning the car engine off once he's made sure he's left enough space for another vehicle that wants to park behind you. "We'll just let the rain pass for a while."

"I know," you huff, he doesn't have to narrate everything you do. It's irritating and you're not a child that needs explanations every two seconds.

"Why are you mad at me?" he questions, turning the volume down before undoing his seatbelt. "Did I do something wrong?"

Where do you start?

"We would have missed the rain if you'd gotten to my place on time," you murmur. It's the first excuse you can think of to be angry at him, although it's not the real reason.

"I said I was sorry, y/n. I had things to do other than being your chauffeur."

"Well I didn't know being 'my chauffeur' bothered you so much, I could have asked Esteban to take me instead."

"You know it's not that," Mick groans, hitting his forehead against the steering softly.

"Then what is it?" you roll your eyes again, turning in the seat to look at him. "Please, do tell."

Mick stares back at you, and the choice is made within seconds in his brain, he's telling the truth. He cannot keep pretending he's not absolutely tormented by the idea that you've met someone else. "I don't want you to move on. I don't want you to go to whoever is waiting for you at that party."

You're caught off guard, having expected something entirely different to come out of his mouth. A strangled 'what?' leaves your lips before Mick is kissing you, praying once again, that you don't reject his advance. Even if it's what he deserves.

It's a desperate kiss, sloppy and wet and better than any you've ever had with him. Because you can feel how much he has wanted it, and you have wanted it too, so, so much. But what if this is all he wants? To know he still holds this power over you to have you physically, but with no strings attached.

You cannot handle the heartbreak of not being able to have him in the way you want to. Not again.

You push him off you, firm but gentle as his lips start traveling down your jaw and to your neck. "No, Mick. Not again."

"Why not?" he whispers against the pulse on your neck, sending shivers through your body. "y/n..."

“Say you want me, and I'm yours," you sigh, as his lips still hover over your skin. "But mean it, Mick. Mean it this time."

"I want you, y/n. I never stopped wanting you," his right hand is holding your jaw and the other is in your hair, combing it behind your ear. "And I'm not saying this just to fuck you. I mean it. I miss you."

You've known Mick for enough time to have figured out the little tells he has when he's lying. And you are so relieved to find that he's not, as he takes you in with those blue eyes you've missed so much. "I miss you too," you whisper, before looking for his lips again.

One moment you're still in your seat, legs twisted in an uncomfortable position and the next you're on Mick's lap, after he's moved the seat all the way back leaving you enough space not to be pressed against the steering wheel.

His hands are on your hips and your ass, lifting the skirt you're wearing before letting it fall back down. Your hands wrap around his neck before falling to his chest. The kisses you exchange are still messy, rushed and quick. You bite his lower lip before licking it soothingly and he groans, hands pressing harder on your ass.

You can feel his fingers moving to your inside thigh slowly, ghost touches that are there one moment and gone the next. You move your hips back and forth, slowly, starting to feel Mick's growing bulge. He grunts again, pulling you down on him to create more friction.

Mick's hand finally finds its way back to your throbbing core, you're starting to get desperate because it's just not enough. No matter how much you sway your hips in circles or you press down on him, it's not enough. "Please," you whine against the shell of his ear, "Please touch me."

His index and middle finger press against the wet cloth that are your panties and he smiles into your lips. "You're so wet for me,"

You can't find a coherent answer, and he doesn't let you anyway, as he moves your panties to one side to access your hole. His index goes inside you painfully slowly, and you know he's enjoying torturing you this way. Your fingers pull on the back of his head, tugging at his hair and you're not surprised when he moans, the hand that's not on your pussy clasps the back of your neck.

The rain is still going strong around you, and yet the only sounds both of you can focus on are the ones leaving you both. Gasps and moans, grunts and whines.

"What pretty noises you're making for me… am i making you feel good?" Mick pulls your head back by the neck for you to stop hiding your face against his neck as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. His thumb is drawing slow circles in your clit while he interchanges the motion of pumping you to scissoring them inside of you. "Do you want to cum?"

You nod desperately, grinding against his fingers while you still pull on his hair. "Please, Mick."

"Not with my fingers,"

You miss him immediately when he pulls his hand away, your hole clenching around nothing. But you hurry to undo his belt and zipper, you need him right now. Mick shifts in his seat, looking for the jacket in the backseat.

Your fingers wrap around his dick and you start pumping him slowly, your thumb running across his tip between movements has him moaning and bucking his hips.

"Seriously?" you pause, looking at the brand new pack of condoms he gets out of the inside pocket of his jacket.

"In my defense, Esteban asked me to buy them for him," his already reddened cheeks turn a shade or two darker, and he smiles at you. "He won't miss one."

You continue with your up and down movements while Mick opens the package and once he gets the condom out, he grabs your wrist to halt you.

Mick almost cums from the sight of you putting the condom on him, something he never thought he'd ever see again after fucking everything up.

You move your underwear to the side once again and Mick grabs your hips to lift you before letting you fall slowly on his cock. Both of you throw your heads back in pleasure and you stay like that for a moment, taking in the sensation of being as physically close as you can possibly be. Mick fills you up perfectly, and you feel so, so good around him.

Your hips rock back and forth slowly, while you maintain eye contact with him, blue eyes eating you up in awe. And he helps you lift your body and fall back on him at your own pace, he's at your mercy.

The hand that isn't steadying you goes back to your clit, caressing and pressing until he finds that right movement that makes you hold your breath before you release it in a pleasured cry. "Just like that, Mick, please."

He continues to draw circles on your clit while nipping on your neck, interrupted every now and then by his own moans of pleasure. Your pace quickens and Mick's neck strains, trying to hold his orgasm back, he wants you to reach yours first.

You smile at his distress, and move your hips faster guiding him up and down in frantic movements. And it's useless how much he tries to hold back, because when you bottom out, he groans, his release spilling inside the condom.

But you don't stop riding him, and he tries his best to keep his focus on the bundle of nerves between your legs, twisting his fingers faster and harder until you grip his shoulder and let your head fall into the crook of his neck, shaking with such pleasure you're seeing stars.

You stay like that for a few moments, while your breath goes back to normal and your body stops twitching with the remnants of your high. Mick goes soft still inside you and you support your weight on his shoulders to lift yourself off him.

The windows are foggy and the car smells of what you just did, the music is still playing in low volume and the rain refuses to stop.

Mick helps you return to the passenger seat, not without stealing another kiss from you, holding your jaw between his thumb and index.

Both of you fix your clothes in silence, one that falls heavy turning uncomfortable quickly.

"We can try again," Mick ends the silence after he's completely buckled his trousers and smoothed his shirt. "I want to try again with you y/n, I want to try until it works."

So you kiss him again, because you'll try and try, until it hurts or bleeds.

─── team principal radio: ❝to the anon who requested this, i accidentally deleted your ask because i am stupid but i hope you see this and enjoy it! let me know your thoughts y'all♡❞

✰ lavender library cardholders: @karmabyfernando

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

I LOVE YOUR FICS SOO MUCH

The daughter of Donna and Reader grew up to be a beautiful girl. Reader noticed that the boys from the village were becoming too interested in her. Reader shares her observations with Donna. Every day Donna notices a boy from the village at her door trying to date her daughter, Donna gets mad that someone is trying to take her little daughter away ^^

Yess!!! Thank you for your words, and for your request!!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :)))))

Not a little princess anymore

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Fluff,

Word count: 7,611

Summary: Maybe your daughter is not a little girl anymore...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

The road to the village was always quiet. It had been years since you had anything to worry about walking through the forest. Much less when you had the best possible companion, wearing a smile that from the first moment seemed suspicious to you.

“You're in a very good mood today,” you commented, frowning. The girl walking next to you looked down, with a shy smile, a smile you had seen many times before, and not just on her.

“Yes, well... I woke up like this,” she said, avoiding your subtle interrogation.

“Normally you protest when I ask you to help me do the shopping, is there something that has made you change your mind, Angela?” you asked, with a much more confident tone. The young lady shook her head profusely with a look that she tried to mislead.

“No, mom, I just like to enjoy a quiet walk from time to time,” Angela replied, to which you nodded suspiciously.

Yes, she was the best of company.

You were born in that sinister village. You grew up praying to Miranda and the Black Gods. Four Lords, three that scared you, one that made you fall in love.

Donna Beneviento, hermit, lonely, disturbed, was the only one of the four who didn’t make you to run away. One night, after a terrible storm, your lives crossed.

You begged, you screamed, you cried to forgive that intrusion. You didn't need it, she didn't hurt you. She didn't torture you. She saw something on you that you were incapable of recognizing.

In your 20 years, you had never felt the need to love, or be loved, not until you met that mysterious lady in black. That love unknown to both of you wrapped you in a protective mantle that kept you away from bad thoughts. Only by being together you could fight your own demons.

A horrible scar camouflaged her undeniable beauty, a parasite that changed her body, a sentence to be “a monster” for all eternity. None of that mattered to you, you loved her, she loved you. You, an ordinary villager, were more than enough for Lady Beneviento to forget her problems, so she was free to love you, to be loved by you.

But 20 is a dangerous age, when impulses and lack of rationality predominate in all your actions. You should have been careful, Donna should have been careful.

Nerves and fear took over your life when that test confirmed the news. You were pregnant. You were going to have a baby, with Donna.

But the lack of care, the slip that led you to that premature situation were not powerful enough to steal the illusion that was growing little by little, just like your belly.

And so, 16 years ago, Angela Beneviento came into the world, just to be another reason for you to be grateful every day for being born in that horrible place.

She was a good, educated girl, influenced by the antics of the Angie doll, but always with a smile, with a beautiful smile that, as she grew older, became more difficult to differentiate from Donna's.

Silky black hair, bright eyes, pale skin. She was a little Donna, a beautiful little Donna.

For you, there was nothing that mattered but your family, the improvised family that went far beyond the limits of understanding.

Already in adolescence, Angela became a little more mischievous, but maintaining that serenity that she, without a doubt, had inherited from you.

And there you were: mother and daughter going to the village to buy what they needed for everyday life. A path full of protests, of adolescent snorts, that little by little, stopped being like that. Something curious, that caught your attention.

“Well, if we share the tasks, we'll finish sooner,” you said, clapping your hands together. The young lady's smile grew subtly.

“Okay, I'm going to buy bread,” she said too quickly, without giving you time to react. Eyebrows raised, you nodded, handing your daughter a bag of coins.

After taking the money, Angela ran off to do her task. You stared at her, knowing that this behavior was a little strange, but you didn't give it too much importance, there were still many things to buy.

You finished your shopping in record time, and, slowly, you headed to the old bakery, where your daughter seemed to be chatting with a boy from the village, the baker's son. Trying not to let your presence be detected, you got a little closer to listen to that conversation.

“A Lycan? Come on, you're trying to fool me,” the girl said, leaning on the counter, with a distrustful smile.

“I promise you,” the boy said, with a voice of telling stories and adventures. “It was at least 8, no, 9 inches.”

“There are no nine inches Lycans, it's a bluff,” your daughter said, leaning on her hand, listening to this nonsense with perhaps exaggerated attention.

“Say what you want, but that's what I saw,” the young boy murmured, crossing his arms.

“You think you're very brave, don't you, Iulian?” Angela murmured, with a sarcastic, mocking tone.

The boy nodded with a triumphant smile.

“I am, Miss Beneviento,” he said, looking at your daughter over his shoulder.

“My name is Angela,” she protested, giving him a light blow on the arm.

You had to be blind not to realize what was happening there.

“Besides, if you think you're that brave, I'm sure you won't mind if we meet up tomorrow,” the girl murmured, looking to the sides of her, forcing you to hide shamefully.

“I was hoping you would say that, Miss,” he said, elegantly, making a small bow. You had to hold back your laughter at the boy's clumsiness, and his more than clear intentions.

“At my house,” she said, with a defiant look, crossing her arms on the wooden counter. The boy's expression paled. The truth is that it was very fun.

“Your... Your house,” Iulian repeated, speaking with difficulty, looking away.

“Yes, weren't you a brave boy?” Angela joked, continuing her challenge.

“Oh, yes, but... Your mother...” he murmured, evidencing the fear that Donna generated in the villagers. It was not surprising. She could make you live the worst of your nightmares and besides, she was still a Lord.

“Bah, my mother is too obsessed with her dolls,” Angela said, dismissing it with a gesture of her hand. “You’re a coward…”

“Of course I’m not,” the boy defended himself, standing up and trying to hide the trembling of his hands.

“Well, prove it. Come by my house tomorrow afternoon,” the girl said, with a disturbingly sincere smile.

“Oh, well, I...” the baker stammered, looking away.

“Didn't you want to buy me an ice cream?” your daughter insisted, amused, taking advantage of the fear that she unintentionally generated in boys her age.

“Yes, but...” he murmured, looking at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Tomorrow, at my house, at 4:00 p.m.,” she said, with a sufficient tone, even a bit arrogant.

You approached, shaking your head, putting a hand on the young lady’s shoulder. She looked at you, blushing.

“Are you still making the bread, boy?” you asked amused. Iulian stood up again, fumbling for the order Angela had given him.

“No, ma'am, here it is, ma'am,” he said politely, extending the bag to your daughter, which she took with an amused gesture.

“We already have everything, we can go,” you murmured, passively going over the small shopping list. The girl nodded, still looking at the frightened baker. “Unless you prefer to stay...” you whispered in a mocking tone, which made the blush on your daughter's cheeks increase.

“No, no, I...” the teen stammered, moving away from the counter. “See you, brave boy,” she said by way of farewell, walking next to you again.

The way back was somewhat uncomfortable, especially because your daughter knew you were too observant.

“You took too long,” Donna murmured once you entered through the door. Your daughter snorted but you smiled, approaching the lady in black and kissing her quickly on the lips.

“There was a long line at the bakery, wasn't there, Angela?” you asked with a sinister look, hugging Donna around her waist, getting lost in her gaze.

Your daughter shook her head nervously, leaving the bags on the floor.

“Hey, young lady, won't you say hello to me?” Donna said, stopping her offspring's embarrassing escape attempt.

“Ciao, mamma...” the young woman murmured, with a false smile, quickly going up to her room.

 Donna laughed, shaking her head, curious about her daughter's attitude. You decided to forget about that for a moment and enjoy a moment alone with your lover.

“What’s going on? She's acting... Weird lately,” the lady in black said, helping you carry the bags to the basement.

You shrugged, with a tender smile.

“I think I have a slight idea...”

The day passed like any other: some fun meals, in which Angela and Angie talked about anything, smiles, family moments... Everything that made you remember why on that stormy day you decided to stay at the old estate, risking your own life.

“I'm exhausted...” you sighed once with your pajamas on, ready to get into bed.

Donna looked at you, already covered by the sheets, while she read one of those plant books that you hated. They reminded you too much of who your family was, of the horrible things they said about them in the village.

“You're trying too hard, (Y/N),” the doll maker whispered. You laughed as you shook your head.

“I just went shopping,” you said, downplaying one of the hundreds of compliments that had become the soundtrack of your life.

“It's more than you should do, tesoro,” she said, with a tender smile, kissing the back of your hand. “I have told you many times the Duke will bring whatever we ask of him.”

“Yeah, well, it's not that I don't trust the fat man, I don't either...” you said amused, snuggling up next to her, letting her arms send that feeling of happiness to all parts of your body. “But I like to get some fresh air, and with Angela, it's easier.”

Donna nodded with a frown, leaving the book on the table to continue her gentle caresses.

“By the way, do you know what I found out today?” you asked, with a tone a little further from tenderness, closer to mockery. She shook her head, pulling away from you as she played with your hair, as kisses began to attack your neck. “Don't you know who the baker's son has interest on?”

Donna stepped back sharply, frowning, her breathing ragged.

“Has that idiota interest on you? How stupid,” Donna said, almost growling, her hands pulling at the sheets angrily. “I'll have to teach him manners…”

You laughed, loosening that excessive grip and caressing her hands to calm her budding nerves.

“No, honey, how is he going to like me? He's 16, or so I think...” you said, cupping the brunette's face in your hands.

Donna sighed, closing her eyes, relieved by your words.

“Don’t... Don't scare me, (Y/N), you know I can't stand the idea of...” she said, in a whisper, letting herself be embraced by the comfort of your arms. You laughed, already accustomed to her eternal jealousy, to that horrible possessiveness of Lady Beneviento.

“I know, I know my love...” you whispered, rocking her body so she would relax. “Don't worry, Donna, I'm not in his thoughts”

“Then why are you telling me? You're a gossip, (Y/N),” she told you amusedly, nudging you, breathing more and more relaxed.

“Maybe, but it turns out that the baker boy likes Angela,” you said with a soft, innocent voice, despite the risk it posed, well you hoped it wouldn't be such. “Isn't it charming?”

Donna froze, looking at you intensely, opening her eye with a look of terror, which soon turned into one of fury, getting up from the bed with a growl.

“What?” she asked, already standing on the wooden floor. You rolled your eyes, rubbing your forehead, regretting telling her. “Angela?”

“Yeah, well... They're the same age, you know...” you murmured cautiously.

She laughed nervously, mumbling what were surely insults as she opened the closet to locate her usual black dress.

“Where are you going, Donna?” you asked amused, crossing your arms. She motioned for you to shut up as she got rid of her nightgown, slipping back into that dark dress of hers.

“I'll be right back, I'm going to torture a baker...” she murmured, taking her black veil. Luckily, you were able to stop her in time. You knew her, you know she was serious.

“Hey, eh, eh, come on...” you said, hanging on to her neck, trying to reason with your lover. “Relax, nothing is wrong.”

“Nothing is wrong, you say?” she repeated, with a furious, almost deranged look. “Oh, of course something is wrong.”

“It's kid stuff, there's nothing wrong,” you said in a calm tone, trying to synchronize your breathing so the lady would calm down.

“Kid’s stuff? (Y/N) you can't say that...” she defended herself, interrupted by an unexpected kiss on her lips, which preceded an intense sigh from the Lords.

“Angela is no longer a little girl, Donna, besides, she is a beautiful girl just like you. It's normal that she causes things among the boys in the village,” you explained, dragging Donna to the bed again, taking away the black dress and the desire to torture that poor boy.

She shook her head, horrified by your words.

“The boys?” she asked suddenly, letting you manipulate her clothes. “The boys!?!

“Donna... Relax. Angela is not stupid. She's not going to let some jerk fool her. You don't have to worry about that.”

“How can I not worry? She is my girl, my princess...” she murmured, calmer, getting back into bed.

“I know, and I understand you, okay?” you said with that tender voice, finding a true protective feeling from Donna towards your daughter, one that you never tired of admiring. “But you couldn't always protect her, darling.”

“Can’t I? I’m her mother, my duty is to protect you, to protect her...” she said, with a sad voice, sighing frustratedly.

“Yes, of danger,” you said, with a feeling that you shared with Donna, the fear that Angela would suffer for some reason. “But the girl fooling around with a boy her age shouldn't be dangerous, don't you think?”

Donna opened her mouth to say something, but she shut up immediately, turning off the light and turning her back on you. You rolled your eyes again, shaking your head.

“No one touches my daughter,” she hissed after a moment of tense silence. You looked at her in the dark, clinging to her body like every night, whispering in her ear.

“Of course not...” you sighed, letting her arms hug yours, kissing her wounded cheek. “Good night, Donna.”

After that little argument, you both succumbed to exhaustion.

It was true that this business with the baker worried you but, luckily, you had grown up in the village, you knew his family, you knew him when he was just a baby. He didn't seem like a bad guy, and besides, you felt a little sorry for Angela.

She had her cousins, the Dimitrescu sisters, she had friends in the village that she went out with from time to time, but you couldn't help but think about Donna, about her lonely and sad childhood. Angela was happy, but she was still partially isolated from the village. You didn't see anything wrong with her starting to have an interest in boys, besides, you couldn't blame her for it.

It was a matter of her age, something that Donna would have to understand sooner or later.

Yes, you were definitely concerned about Donna much more than a romantic story between two teenagers. She would never understand. She would never let any prince charming into her castle to take her princess away.

Luckily, all those, according to you, absurd worries seemed to fade away with the arrival of a new day.

A quiet breakfast, a perfect family... No, you couldn't ask for more from your life. The day continued to pass like any other, but an unusual nervousness was evident in young Angela. You soon remembered why. Supposedly, that boy from the bakery had decided to approach the estate, or so he had said.

Lunchtime passed and, when the clock struck four in the afternoon, your nerves also frayed as you read quietly with Donna.

You moved nervously as you leaned on her shoulder, constantly looking at the clock. There was no sign of Angela either. Since you finished eating, she had locked herself in her room.

While you pretended to read with the lady in black, a lot of memories, nostalgic thoughts came to your mind.

You remembered those conversations with your friends about the boys in the village, the countless times you rejected the flowers of those who, oblivious to your preferences, tried to win your love.

None of them could imagine that you would end up being family to the dangerous Donna Beneviento, not even you thought about that possibility. Before meeting her, you had given up. There would be no one for you. There was no girl like you in that place. How wrong you were.

Thinking about your daughter going through the same things worried you and excited you at the same time. The memories of your youth were mixed with those of her childhood, with those of those wonderful years with a little girl running through the hallways.

Those memories made you sigh, thus drawing the attention of Donna, who looked at you curiously.

“What's wrong, tesoro?” she asked in a soft voice, resting the book on her lap, relieving you with her infinite caresses.

“Nothing, I was thinking,” you said, leaning your back on the couch, taking the brunette's hand and playing with it erratically.

“What did you think?” she asked, as she could not be otherwise. “You seemed sad.”

Donna was always so perfect, so protective, so observant...

“Oh, well, I only remembered when Angela was a little girl,” you said in a sincere voice, trying not to bring up the subject of that baker boy again. Donna smiled, nodding softly, bringing your lips to hers with a subtle tug.

“I see,” she whispered, letting you speak, inviting you to share those happy memories with her.

“Do you remember when you taught her to play chess?” you asked, with an emotion revealing that sadness, that feeling that your daughter would never be that innocent little girl again.

Donna nodded, with that same smile, listening to your voice broken by nostalgia, by those memories that you wanted to treasure in your mind.

“She was very good at it,” Donna said, with a sympathetic look, sighing as she also remembered those funny moments.

“But she always cheated,” you said, amused.

“Yes, well, we all know who taught her to,” the lady responded, nodding toward the doll Angie, who was walking around the house alone.

Yes, there was something strange that day. Normally Angela and Angie were inseparable.

“Our baby, Donna...” you sighed, leaning on the brunette's shoulder again, closing your eyes to enjoy that moment.

“Mm,” she murmured, kissing your hair with that delicacy impossible for someone like her, someone who should instill terror, not make your heart beat so fast.

The sound of the agonizing and somber doorbell interrupted that intimate moment, making you wipe your eyes to hide your incipient tears.

“Don't worry, tesoro, I'm coming,” Donna whispered, giving you one last kiss and picking up her black veil from the table.

You looked at the clock again, five minutes past four. You just hoped it wasn't who you thought it was. Intrigued and recovered from your memories, you approached the door while Donna walked slowly towards the entrance.

“The Black Gods smile at me with your… Your… Presence… La… Lady Beneviento,” you heard a male voice on the other side of the entrance. The baker's son, for sure, keeping his promise to go visit Angela.

“Shit…” you whispered, shaking your head and biting your lip. Surely that wouldn't end well.

“What do you want?” Angie's squeaky voice asked, speaking for her owner.

“I... Well, I was wondering if Miss Angela...”

The boy couldn't speak anymore. The sound of the door slamming shut prevented him from doing so.

“Donna...” you whispered, passing a hand over your forehead, advancing towards the lady in black, who removed the veil from her face with a satisfied smile. “Who was it?” you asked with a frown.

“No one,” she said, with a dry voice, lowering Angie to the floor. You crossed your arms with a cocky and accusatory posture. She looked at you, feigning confusion.

“Please…” you sighed, with a reprimanding tone. Donna just shrugged.

The sound of quick footsteps coming down the stairs distracted you from the imminent drill you were going to give to the lady in black. Angela went down the steps two at a time, leaning over the railing.

“Who was it?” she said with an eager smile, putting on her black hair.

“There’s no one here,” Donna said, with a dark voice. The young  lady laughed nervously, shaking her head.

“But, but it seemed to me...” Angela said, going down until she reached the wooden floor. Donna relaxed her expression, giving her a strangely fake smile.

“You must have imagined it, tesoro...” the lady in black whispered, quickly caressing her daughter's cheek, brushing her hair from her face in a motherly way.

“Really? Wow,” the teenager said, visibly disappointed. “Mom, haven't you heard the doorbell?”

You shrugged your shoulders, avoiding positioning yourself on one side of the obvious battle that would surely be coming.

The young lady scratched the back of her head, confused, and then let her shoulders slump, probably disappointed that this brave boy had not been so brave, apparently.

“Hey, Angela, mom is a little sad today, how about you come down from the dungeon you call your room and do something together?” Donna asked, approaching your daughter and lifting her chin with two fingers.

She snorted and then looked at you curiously.

“Why are you sad, mom?” she asked worried. You shook your head, smiling sinisterly at Donna, who was feigning the purest face of innocence of hers.

“It's nothing, honey, I just miss when you were a baby,” you said, pouting, ready to give your daughter a horrible cuddling session.

“Oh, mom...” Angela protested, fleeing from your displays of affection, like any teenager would do.

“What do you think if we make some cakes?” Donna said, joining  your hands, joining that impromptu family hug.

Angela looked at the door with a listless sigh, the vision of failure on her face. That didn't last long, as that melancholy was replaced by a kind smile, kind like her.

“Mmm… Okay, apparently I have nothing better to do” the young woman said, lowering her gaze. Donna studied her reaction, and couldn't help her breathing hitch again.

“Why you said so?” the lady in black asked, with that tone of an impatient mother that characterized her.

“Oh, nevermind,” Angela said, surreptitiously, searching for some understanding in your eyes. You preferred to remain neutral, for now. “But I want to add the sugar,” she said amused, with the smile returning to her face, much to your relief.

“Not so fast, young lady...” Donna murmured, running after her in a playful chase, one that, for a moment, made that tense moment disappear.

But that joy only lasted a moment. It was a fun afternoon, the three of you cooking together as you did less and less frequently. That at least helped that feeling of having lost your baby diminish.

Angela was a beautiful, kind,  a good girl. You could feel very proud of her and Donna too. Donna was probably right, and there wasn't a boy in the village worthy of her.

But your younger years, your outings with friends, those memories you thought about didn’t allow you to feel that kind of over-protectionism the lady in black seemed to feel. No, Angela was already 16 years old, she was already a girl who took care of herself. You had no right to stop her from making her way into the turbulent landscape that love was.

As if those thoughts weren't disturbing your mind enough, the doorbell rang again the next day, and the next one, and the next one…

Always at the same time, always with the same result. Donna had no mercy. She scared the young baker away in every way possible: using her powers, or a subtle threat.

Everything was valid to scare away that commoner and keep his claws away from her little princess.

It might seem innocent, even good. It could be if the princess wasn't waiting every day for the arrival of that commoner. Her spirits declined little by little, her smile faded from her face and her joy stopped being the protagonist of your family meetings.

“You haven't eaten anything,” Donna scolded during lunch.

The teen shrugged, playing with her food.

“I'm not hungry,” she murmured, with that maddening tone that betrayed her young age, one that had taken a long time to return.

“I don't care, Angela,” the doll maker said, with a serious tone. “You have to eat.”

“I said I'm not hungry,” the girl said, with a dark look. Donna was enraged by her daughter's abrupt response, but fortunately, you were there to calm that little storm.

“Hey, okay, okay, young lady. Don't talk to your mother like that,” you said, before Donna's mental health was overwhelmed by the girl's childish behavior.

“I'm sorry,” she said, looking down. Donna nodded, calming down just before she exploded.

Earlier than usual, the sad sound of the doorbell reached your ears. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath as the lady in black grunted, rising from her chair.

“No, mamma, I'm coming” Angela said, enthusiastically. Donna's cold gaze forced her to sit back down. Well, the look and the hand that she abruptly placed on the teen’s shoulder, preventing her from moving.

“Sit down and finish eating,” Donna ordered in a dark voice, putting on her veil and walking quickly toward the entrance. “Obey”

“But, mom!” Angela protested, looking at you and following her mother with her gaze.

“Don't protest, honey,” you said, predicting the worst case scenario. “Don't make her more nervous,” you whispered in a knowing, warning tone.

“Ahhhh! Not again!”

The scream was clearly heard in the dining room. It was a frightened scream, which you already recognized after that week of unexpected visits.

“Iulian?” Angela asked, disobeying your recommendation and running towards the entrance.

“Great... He's insistent,” you murmured, wiping yourself with the napkin, ready to put out the fire that had already begun to form.

“Iulian! Wait, wait a minute!” Angela shouted, looking out the door, only to see how the poor baker fled in terror from the hallucinations that, without a doubt, Donna had caused him.

“Come into the house, Angela,” the lady in black ordered with a severe tone that the poor teenager didn’t deserve.

“What are you about? Why did you scare him?” the young woman asked with white knuckles pressed on both sides of her hips.

“Don't talk to me like that, young lady, it's for your own sake,” Donna said, with her finger raised, threatening with an unfair punishment.

“Hey, you...” you whispered, trying unsuccessfully to calm down things.

Naturally, they didn't pay the slightest attention to you.

“For my own sake? What do you know?” Angela asked, angry, and rightly so. “How many days have you been kicking my friend out of the house?”

“That boy is not your friend, Angela,” Donna said, approaching your daughter with a dark tone.

“Who do you think you are to get into my life?” the young woman continued protesting, with a look of hatred towards Donna that made you move in your place.

“Your mother, I’m your mother, Angela,” she said, believing herself to be completely right.

“I wish you weren't,” the girl murmured, grunting and climbing the stairs.

“Hey, that's enough, relax,” you said, putting yourself between the two before the words began to get more out of context.

“I'm relaxed!” they shouted in unison, something that would be comical if it weren't in those circumstances.

“I'm not a girl anymore, stop controlling me!” Angela screeched, pushing her mother unpleasantly.

“I'll control you whatever it takes! I'm just trying to protect you!” Donna yelled too, red with anger.

“You are not my owner!” the girl defended herself, confronting her mother. “Do you think we live in the Middle Ages? It's 2012, I can defend myself.”

“No, you can’t!” the lady in black shouted, grabbing the teenager's arm, who broke free of that grip with an unpleasant jerk, fleeing to her room.

Donna glared at you and chased the young woman up the stairs. You knew you had to intervene, but you found yourself unable to do so. You yourself didn't know who to agree with.

You chased them up the stairs, where the young Beneviento abruptly closed the door, in the face of her mother, who tried to open it.

“Angela, apri la porta!” Donna shouted, hitting hard with her fists.

“No! Lasciami in pace!” your daughter responded from the other side of the door.

You arrived at the scene of the conflict and Donna, after huffing angrily, shook her head, pointing her finger at her daughter's irreverent attitude. You only responded in the form of a tired sigh, rubbing your eyes.

“Se non apri la porta prima che io conti fino a tre…” the brunette threatened, ignoring your confused look.

Lucky you were born that far away so

We could both make fun of distance

Lucky that I love a foreign land for

The lucky fact of your existence…

The music began to resonate as a mocking response to the threat of the doll maker, who after another furious growl, knocked on the door again.

“Low that infernal music! Get out here, now!” she demanded again, only getting the volume to go up even more.

Time to act.

“Hey, Donna, come on, calm down,” you said, putting both hands on the brunette's shoulders, who turned abruptly to look at you.

“It's your fault for giving her that horrible thing,” she muttered angrily, moving away from your grasp.

“Yes, of course, blame the CD player,” you said ironically. “I wasn't the one who got hysterical.”

“What do you want, (Y/N)? Are you on her side?” she asked, approaching threateningly, with that look that indicated she had lost her nerve.

“No, Donna, but I'm not on your side either,” you said, with enough experience to put up with her crazy tantrums.

“Oh, so it's okay with you that some stupid villager is looking for our daughter to take her away from us,” Donna hissed, crossing her arms.

“He's just a friend. He's a good boy,” you said, defending your daughter, positioning yourself on her side without meaning to, earning you another growl from the lady in black.

“A good boy? No one who is after Angela can be a good boy,” she hissed, shaking her head. You imitated her gesture, blinking superbly, savoring the words you were going to say.

“I'll only ask you one thing, what would have happened if I had listened to my parents when I met you? You weren't exactly a good girl, were you?”

Donna was left without a response, stepping back with a look that betrayed defeat. She opened her mouth to counter your accusation, but she decided that flight would be her best option, cursing in Italian as she descended the stairs.

“Donna...” you sighed, holding back your tears of helplessness.

You turned facing the door to the teenager's room and knocked softly.

“Angela, open the door, please, I'm mom,” you said with a tender, understanding voice.

The music lowered its volume and slow footsteps approached the door, opening slightly to reveal your furious daughter, looking around you.

“Has she gone?” she asked, still suspicious. You nodded, crossing your arms.

“There are no Donnas on sight,” you joked, making the girl smile slowly, letting you in and closing the door immediately, just in case it was one of her strategies.

“Pff,” Angela huffed, turning off that CD player. “Seriously, mom, how could you let that crazy psycho get you pregnant?” she asked, falling onto the bed with a frown.

You sighed, disgusted by your daughter's words towards her mother.

“Don't say that horrible things about your mother, Angela. Donna is sick, she's not crazy,” you said, to which the teenager snorted, looking away from you. “Besides, you're just like her when you get angry,” you said tenderly, holding her face so she could look at you and you could verify your words.

“No, I have two eyes,” the girl said, contemptuously, pointing to her face. You rolled your gaze and shook your head.

“Angela...” you sighed.

“Mom, she's always the same. She doesn't let me do anything, she always controls me,” the young woman protested, crossing her arms with the arrogance typical of her age.

“That's because she wants to protect you,” you said, using your infinite patience.

“I don't need her to protect me, you're annoying, I know how to protect myself,” Angela said, looking away from you again.

You sat on the bed, caressing your daughter, who obviously rejected your affection.

“Try to be understanding,” you murmured, brushing her black hair away from her face, something she rejected again, throwing all of her hair over her face.

“She is the one who has to be understanding,” she said in her defense.

“Donna loves you, darling. She can't stand that you're so old, the same thing happens to me,” you explained, taking a breath. The girl looked at you, but she shook her head.

“Well, accept it now. I'm not your little girl anymore,” she murmured, her lips tight, but giving in to your calm way of talking things out.

“Do you remember when you went out to the forest alone two years ago?” you asked. She growled impatiently. “I remember you said: I'm old enough to go alone,” you said with a mocking tone. “What happened right after?”

“Don't make me say it...”

“You fell into a hole and hurt your leg. Tell me, darling, who healed you, who was with you?” you asked again, getting a little closer.

“Mamma,” she responded furiously. “But it’s not the same, mom.”

“No, I know,” you said, nodding understandingly. “Now tell me, just for you and me. Do you love that boy?”

“What? Well, of course I don’t,” Angela said, with a nervous laugh. “We are just getting to know each other. He is good to me, and he doesn't want to hurt me. I just want him to buy me a damn ice cream so I can find out if I could really love him.”

“I understand...” you sighed proud of the young Beneviento's intelligence. She didn't really need your protection.

“And rest assured that if he hurts me, I will kick his...”

“Okay, okay, it's clear to me,” you interrupted, amused. Your daughter laughed with you and you sighed, caressing her cheek.

“So? Will I be able to meet Iulian?” she asked, with a pleading look. You shrugged.

“I'm afraid you'll have to convince your mother,” you sighed, tired of those absurd fights.

“Oh, great, that's a no,” the young woman said, with a defensive posture again.

Despite the little tension that lasted the rest of the day, things apparently relaxed a bit. The looks were intense, furious, the dinner seemed more like a silent battle than a properly normal dinner.

Those little arguments overshadowed that perfect family you thought you had. At least you managed to calm Donna down a bit that night. You didn't convince her that Angela could see the baker, but at least you managed to get her to apologize to her daughter, melting into a hug that you were always delighted to join, even Angie.

The next day started like any other. Donna worked in her workshop, and Angela was in the castle with her cousins. The truth is that you were grateful for those little moments for yourself. The fights between mother and daughter were beginning to overwhelm you, and the worst thing was that you were becoming more and more convinced that the girl was right.

“Mm?” you murmured when you heard a noise on the roof. Even when you were alone you didn't seem to be able to stay calm.

Stranged by those noises, you walked around the room, frowning, about to tell Donna to check what was happening. It's a good thing you didn't, because when you left the mansion, in front of you was a vision that you couldn't believe.

That boy, that Iulian guy was climbing the roof clumsily. You laughed softly, moving away so you could see him better. What a guy, he was quite a Romeo.

“Angela, hey, Angela,” he whispered, knocking on the glass of the room. You walked slowly, surrounding him as you shook your head.

“Hey you!” you shrieked amused, scaring the young man, who inevitably stumbled, falling comically on the snowy ground. “What are you doing? Do you think you're that Spider-man guy from the bootleg comics?”

“Mrs. Beneviento...” he said timidly, rubbing his tailbone and taking off his hat as a gesture of respect. “… I Was…”

“Looking for Angela, huh?” you asked, brushing the snow off his shoulders, studying each of his gestures. He nodded, head bowed.

“I, I don't...” he stammered, starting to shake and looking at the open door. You couldn't help but laugh at that reaction.

“Don't worry, Donna's not here,” you lied. Well, it wasn't a total lie. Laughter reached your lips again as you watched him relax, sighing in relief.

“Oh, well, I mean, I...”

“Angela isn't there either, she's in the castle with her cousins,” you explained, crossing your arms, confidently, but not leaving aside a certain threatening tone.

“Well, then I'll come back, another time...” the young man sighed, clearly disappointed.

“Would you like some tea, Iulian? Angela won't take long to return, you can wait for her at home,” you offered, seeing a unique opportunity for things to start going well for everyone.

“I wouldn't want to bother you,” he said, fleeing from your gaze.

“Nonsense, come in,” you said determinedly, pushing the baker's back to forcefully drag him into the mansion.

The boy, scared, had no choice but to accompany you.

“Sit there, I'm going to make the tea,” you said, discreetly calling Angie, who ran to your side with a pair of scissors in her hand.

“You are very kind Miss... Ah!” the boy screamed, jumping on the sofa when the sinister doll pounced on him with scissors in her hand.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa...” Angie hummed, making Iulian back away as much as he could. “Fool fool…”

“I guess you already know Angie,” you joked, enjoying a bit of that rational fear that the baker felt when he was in the mansion. It was funny, after all.

He nodded slowly.

“Angie, this is Iulian, a friend of Angela,” you explained to the doll, who laughed sinisterly.

“Oh, I see, I see... Tell me, Iulian... Do you have children?” the doll asked, making you frown.

“N-No,” the trembling young man answered.

The doll laughed again, approaching him menacingly.

“Do you want to have them?” the puppet asked, opening and closing the scissors in a funny way.

“Angie... Leave our guest alone,” you said, not being able to erase your smile. “But keep an eye on him, mm? Don't let him escape.”

“He won't escape, ma'am,” Angie said, with a comical posture, showing the scissors to the baker, who was desperately looking for a way out of that trap.

Calmly, you began to prepare tea in the kitchen while inevitably thinking about everything that was happening. Imagining your daughter with that boy wasn't the best vision you could have, but didn't you fall in love with Donna when you were over her age? Young love was what dragged you to that perfect family, but deep down, you had the same feeling as Donna. Angela would never be a baby again.

“What are you doing, tesoro?” a soft voice asked, Donna, sensually grabbing you by the waist and kissing your cheek. You were startled, but it didn't take long to return the kiss.

“I was making some tea,” you explained, turning around, letting that tireless romanticism fill your lips with tender kisses.

“Mm, for me?” Donna asked, amused, also kissing your neck, making you laugh nervously.

“Sure,” you said, caressing her cheek and returning to the teapot, which was boiling water along with three cups. “But not just for you. We have a visitor.”

The lady in black frowned, leaving her probably lustful intentions aside.

“Oh, who has come?” "she asked curiously, moving away from your tempting body.

“Mm, you'll see,” you said, with a mysterious voice. “Put on the veil and go up,” you said, taking the tray and leaving a disoriented and confused Donna behind you.

Fortunately, Angie did her job well and Iulian was still shaking on that couch.

“It's still very hot, be careful,” you said kindly, sitting in front of him. The young man nodded, taking his cup with trembling hands.

The sound of the elevator made you alert.

“You!” the lady in black yelled, pointing furiously at the baker, who was paralyzed for a moment.

“Oh, shit...” the boy muttered, cowardly fleeing behind a wall.

“Eh, eh, enough...” you said, with a confident smile, walking towards the nervous Donna.

“What is this stronzo di merda doing here?” the angry lady asked, searching for the cowardly baker with her eye.

“I’ve invited him,” you said with a firm voice. “Be polite, a guest is a guest.”

“(Y/N), I can't believe it, what are you...?” the doll maker asked.

“Do you want Angela to see you as a mother or as an enemy?” you asked quietly, forcing her head to keep her gaze on you and not on the elusive baker.

“(Y/N), I…”

“Answer, Donna,” you demanded with a harsher tone, putting the brunette on the ropes. “Do you want your daughter to love you or continue to hate you for wanting to protect her too much? If you want the first option, please behave and sit down and have tea with us.”

“But, but (Y/N),” she protested.

“Stai zitto and sit down, will you?” you said, guiding the lady towards that corner, calling with your hand to the boy, who appeared trembling. “And you get out of there, brave boy.”

Strain. There was no other word to define those minutes. You knew Donna was glaring at the boy while you tried to get to know him better. Tightly, you squeezed the woman in black's hand, preventing her from losing her nerve.

At least you finally knew that the girl was right. Iulian seemed like a good boy.

“Hi mom...” Angela said, entering through the door and being stunned by the vision she found in front of her. “What the…”

“Hi, sweetheart,” you said, standing up from her and kissing her cheek, pulling her closer to you. “Look who has come to see you…”

“He, hello, Angela,” the boy said, getting up from the couch, grabbing his hat in his hands, without losing sight of the lady in black, who was breathing nervously.

“What are you doing here? Did the guardian dog let you come in?” the girl joked hurtfully, making Donna growl, unintentionally agreeing with the teenager.

“Your, your mothers have invited me to tea,” the boy murmured.

“Really?” Angela asked, looking suspiciously at Donna, who nodded slowly.

“Yes, and besides, I think Donna wanted to tell you something, isn’t that true, my love?” you drawled your words.

The lady looked away with a snort and you approached her, blinking defiantly.

“Isn't that true, my love?” you asked again, with a more threatening voice.

Donna huffed in defeat and stood up from the couch.

“You can go with this... Boy for a walk if you want,” she murmured, making Angela have to bow mockingly.

Luckily, her words were enough for the smile to return to your daughter's face, and she excitedly threw herself into her mother's arms, almost dislodging her veil.

“Oh, can I? Grazie, mamma...” Angela told her, jumping with joy, moving away from her when her arms forced her to do so. “I'll be back soon, I promise.”

“You better do,” Donna hissed, receiving a sharp elbow from you. “I mean, don't go too far,” she corrected later.

“Yes, yes of course,” the girl said, dragging the boy out of the house. The baker said goodbye as best he could, with a ridiculous bow.

Once silent, you hugged the lady in black, removing the veil from her face.

“I'm proud of you, Donna,” you whispered, kissing her tenderly on the lips. She nodded uncertainly, scratching the back of her neck.

“Angie, come here,” she ordered her doll, which obeyed immediately.

“Oh, no...” you lamented, amused, not wanting to separate yourself from her embrace.

“Follow them,” the lady said, with a firm look. Well, at least she had stopped protecting her princess that much…

“Permission to amputate?” the doll asked, balancing those scissors in her hand.

“Granted,” Donna said, making you shake her shoulders, laughing in amusement.

“Donna…”

[nevadancitizen]

-> YOU'RE OUT OF TOUCH – I'VE BEEN OUTTA TIME

synopsis: you died six months ago, but you've come back to haunt johnny. not as a ghost, no – as some twisted version of you that johnny still loves. too bad you don't still love johnny, or remember him in any capacity.

word count: 4k

characters: john "soap" mactavish, resurrected! reader

trigger warnings: talk of canon-typical violence, temporal weirdness, hurt + damn near no comfort

notes: first soap fic.. hopefully i've written him well!! also i couldn't resist incorporating madness combat in this somehow lol it's taking over my life (you don't need to know anything about madcom to read this, don't worry). also tumblr user nevadancitizen using the amnesia trope again? it's more likely than you think.

Somewhere in Nevada, a battered body is denied death, so that it may be granted, en masse…

And six months ago, somewhere in Russia, you were killed in action. 

It was a single shot through the skull – nice, clean. You didn’t suffer. Despite your killer more than likely being a terrorist (or working for one), they did you right. It was probably unintentional, but they still did you right. 

Johnny couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed, even to piss, for weeks after. He was completely numb to almost everything. The world passed by while he stood completely still, laying on his side in your shared bed, spooning a pillow that was rapidly losing your scent. 

(He even tried spraying it with your perfume or cologne, but it didn’t work. It was too strong – it didn’t smell like when you wore it.)

Johnny thought all-too-often about what happened after death. He was ready to die, always has been, but he never really thought about what would happen if (or, more accurately, when) you died. He always cast those thoughts away, because he was done losing people. He was done with grief and screaming, pleading to God, and crying so hard he threw up. 

But he eventually returned to his job. He eventually put you to rest. He prayed for the first time in damn near two decades that, if there was really an afterlife, that you were in Heaven.

(He just hoped that, whatever Heaven there was, it was good enough for you.)

But again, six months ago, somewhere in Nevada, a battered body was denied death, so that it may be granted, en masse.

It is a land without sun, without warmth unless you could find it in another body. It is a land without rules, without remorse, without regret. 

It is a land of violence. It is a land that fits you well.

Despite being dead, you were sewed back together and cursed to live once more. Someone put a gun in your hands and told you, “Listen bozo, I don’t care where you’re from – just shoot!”

Of course, Johnny didn’t know this. How could he? He watched your casket be lowered into the ground. He knew it wasn’t empty – he had to confirm your identity in the morgue. 

But he can’t help but feel his stomach drop when Kyle comes rushing into his office, pointing behind him and, in a panting breath, says your name. 

Johnny immediately springs up from behind his desk and almost pushes past Kyle to get out the door. He turns down the hallway to the left, where he knows it leads to the hospital ward. 

“No, Soap – Soap!” Kyle sprints after him, just barely catching his wrist. “Wrong way, man.”

Johnny stops and, in his stunned state, lets Kyle lead him down the hallway to the right, away from the medbay, away from where you were surely waiting for him, recovering.

Kyle leads him into an elevator, scans his keycard, and presses the button for -3. They’re both uncharacteristically quiet. It just faintly registers in Johnny’s mind that the floor -3 is below the parking garages, past where anyone typically goes. 

(Past where anyone can hear screams ripped from tortured throats, really.)

When the elevator doors open, Soap’s greeted by a familiar sight. It’s a grey concrete hallway, with two soldiers on either side, guarding the way in. Doors line the hall, each one steel with a keypad to unlock it.

Gaz leads Soap down the hall and doesn’t stop for a while. Eventually, he stops in front of the last door and takes a deep, almost shuddering, breath.

Gaz inputs the code into the keypad and opens the door, nodding at the inside. “Come on.”

Soap, almost so quick he clips his shoulder on the doorframe, goes into the room. It overlooks an interrogation room, and it’s fit with a double-sided mirror, recording tech, everything.

Soap freezes when he looks into the interrogation room. It – it’s you, but… not you. You’re pacing, and Johnny can only stare. There’s a grey flush to your skin – no, your skin is actually grey – and bandages cover the back of your head, dirty and frayed, like you haven’t changed them in a while. 

You’re angry, a far cry from the person Johnny knew you to be. Sure, you could be angry, and Johnny’s seen you angry, but this…

You’re panting as you pace, fists clenching and unclenching as your eyes dart around the room. Soft mutters and expletives leave your mouth as you look around, surely looking for a way to escape. 

Johnny just keeps staring. You’re… alive? Yes, you’re not what Johnny remembers you to be, but you’re still alive. 

“Fucking – goddamnit!” You bang your fist on the steel table, causing it to rattle. “I don’t have anything to tell you! You’re all cowards –” you turn to the double-sided mirror and point at it “– especially you, Sheriff! Don’t tell me you’re not back there!”

You immediately turn away, your hands coming to clutch at the sides of your head, your fingers digging into the bandages, almost ripping them. “I swear, when I get my hands on you…!” 

“We don’t know what to do,” Kyle says softly. He looks over at Soap, his gaze obviously sad and sympathetic. “Do you want to try ‘n talk ‘em? Even if they’re feelin’ a tad… neurotic.”

Johnny can’t rip his gaze from you as you throw a steel chair at the wall, still cursing out someone named Sheriff and his lackeys. The chair bounces off the wall and one of the legs hits your shin, causing you to curse it out, too.

“Yes,” Johnny says quickly, decisively. 

Soap shifts on his feet, oddly impatient, as he waits for Kyle to unlock the door to the interrogation room. As soon as he does, Johnny shoulders past him and into the room. He hears a faint click as Gaz closes it behind him. 

You immediately whirl on Johnny, your eyes wide and your breath labored. 

“You!” You point at Johnny like it’s meant to be some offensive gesture. “What do you want?”

You move closer, and Johnny catches sight of the dogtags hanging from your neck. You were buried with one, and he kept the other. He even gave you one of his own because, on that day, a part of him died with you. But… instead of two, you have four hanging from the metal chain. 

You shove your finger in Johnny’s chest, your fingernail digging through the thin fabric of his fatigues. “Answer me!”

Soap immediately takes your wrist and cradles your hand to his chest. “Bonnie, please, calm down.”

“Don’t you dare tell me to calm down!” you bark, ripping your hand away from him. “I just lost one of my team and you’re telling me to calm down?!”

“Your team?” Soap echoes.

“Deimos!” you snap. “You – you killed Deimos.”

You take a step back, your fists still clenched and your eyes still angry. “I saw your stupid fucking Engineer murder him. He was dead from the first five bullets, and you know he knew that! But oh, let’s just make sure he’s dead by unloading clip after clip into him.”

You heave a breath, almost growling. “Let’s desecrate his corpse. All because he’s a dissenter. Let’s make it oh-so-hard to bring him back.”

Johnny steps forward, just barely moving his foot, and you jump back like he took out a knife. 

He breathes out your name, soft and unbelieving. “Are… is it really you?”

“Of course it’s me!” You turn and rest your hands on the steel table, obviously resisting the urge to bring your fists down against it. “Always has been, always will be. It’s always me.”

Johnny circles around the table and leans down a little, taking in your face. The grey makes you look dirty and unwashed, like you’ve got a layer of dirt on you that you couldn’t wash away.

You look up at him through your eyelashes. “I know you.”

Johnny’s heart leaps into his throat and, for a hopeful moment, thinks that you remember him, that this is all some sort of stupid trick, that you went MIA instead of being KIA, that this is really you. The you Johnny knows, the you Johnny loves. But his heart is crushed beneath your boot when you speak next. 

“I know soldiers like you,” you say softly. “Soldiers, produced en masse, told to shoot first and die quietly. We’re both clones, you know? But there’s a difference in what we want.”

You stand up straight, glancing at the double-sided mirror before turning your eyes back to Soap. “You follow orders. When they say jump, you ask how high. But I…” you laugh beneath your breath. “I am fighting for change. Normality. You’re comfortable living in this… this chaos.”

“Bonnie, what are you on about?” Johnny reaches across the table, trying to take your hand. You snatch it away before he even comes close.

Gaz slides into the room, holding a tablet. You whip your head around and glare at him. 

His eyebrows lift a little, and he raises the tablet, as if in a defensive manner. “Your tablet. It –”

You snatch it from Gaz’s hands before he can talk again. You set it down on the table and stare at it, waiting.

Johnny can just barely see the interface. The top of the screen reads COMBASIC .9(beta). It looks like some sort of chat room. A few messages pop up in quick succession.

FellowD9: GOTEM FellowD9: YOU WERE RIGHT FellowD9: HE WAS COMPLIANT 2BDamned: Neat FellowD9: CHECK MY SECTOR FellowD9: ANCHOR HIM NOW [user:FellowD9 IS OFFLINE]

The messages seem to relax you, even if Johnny has no idea what they’re talking about. You bring a hand to your forehead and laugh breathlessly, then set to typing.

CrosshairF6: lol hey im still alive CrosshairF6: aahw assholes gave me my tablet idk why CrosshairF6: check my sector & get me back 2BDamned: Getting Deimos right now, I’ll get back to you CrosshairF6: better do it right CrosshairF6: saw his corpse, looks like he ran through traffic [user:2BDamned IS OFFLINE]

Johnny watches as you tuck your tablet back in one of the inner pockets of your jacket, casting a suspicious glance at Gaz, like you expect him to take it back. 

Gaz raises his hands and slips back out of the room, leaving you and Johnny.

“So.” You look at Johnny. “Why are you trying to act all buddy-buddy with me?”

“You’re… you were…” Johnny sighs, an overwhelming feeling settling in his chest. “Do you remember… dying?”

“Of course,” you say, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “2B brought me back.”

“2B?” Johnny echoes. “Like, the one you were talkin’ to? 2BDamned?”

“Yeah.” You move and lean back against the wall, crossing your arms over your chest. “He’s all doctor-like, y’know? Brings us back when we need it.”

“And he’s… on your team?” Johnny asks. He feels a deep pang of… something in his chest when the thought of you actually being on another team, separate from him, settles in his mind.

You nod. “Yeah. 2B, Hank, Sanford, Deimos.” You tap the dog tags resting against your chest. “We’re a team. Some of us are on a subteam, but still. We’re a team.”

Johnny blinks hard, shaking the thought from his head. “Do you remember anything before you died?”

“Some, but… not a lot. Just blips of fighting, some soldiers, then Nevada.” You shrug. “2B says that happens sometimes.”

Johnny feels his tense shoulders relax, if only a little. “Any one specific soldier, bonnie?”

“No,” you say. You look away and fiddle with your dogtags. “But I’ve got the dogtag of someone named John.”

“John?” Johnny echoes, his heart picking up in his chest. “John ‘Soap’ MacTavish?”

“Yeah.” Your gaze fixes on him again, immediately suspicious. “How do you know that?”

“That’s me, bonnie.” Johnny laughs breathlessly, moving towards you. He makes sure to stay slow and cautious, just in case. “I’m Johnny. Your Johnny.”

You move along the wall, away from him, just slightly. You seem to bristle a little, and bring your shoulders up a bit. “You’re not mine. I don’t own anyone.”

“Not in the literal sense, bonnie,” Johnny laughs, resisting the urge to trail after you. “I’m yours, romantically.”

You bring yourself off the wall, taking a step back. It’s like you’re repulsed by the idea. “I’ve never been romantically involved with anyone. You think I’ve got time for that?”

It’s like Johnny’s been punched in the gut. Tears well in his eyes and he suddenly feels so fucking sick. His feet almost come out from under him as he stumbles to the door, shaking hands putting in the code before slipping out. 

He could take the idea of you maybe not remembering him, sure. He could just re-introduce himself. He could take the idea of you forgetting the time you’ve spent together, because you’d remember, right? But the way you were disgusted by the idea of romance, the vitriol in your voice as you spoke…

Johnny doesn’t like the word ‘relapse’ because he thinks it holds too heavy of a connotation, but that’s the best way to describe what he did for the rest of the day, and into the early hours of tomorrow. He rotted in your shared bed, but instead of feeling numb, he felt his heart being wrenched by your hand, by your words. 

He just laid there, looking at his sketchbook – a good one with thick paper. The one you’d gifted him for your six-month anniversary. It’s filled with drawings of you: candid ones, ones where he had you pose (even though you were embarrassed), ones of you and him, together, doing couple-y things. 

He could only mourn what was lost, because you seemed to have absolutely no interest in recovering it. 

A week passes before you’re able to be let out of your cell. You slowly lost the fire and brimstone that filled your heart as you realized that the 141 really did want to help you. You feel better now that you have a few people by your side, fresh bandages, and a renewed sense of comfort.

(But you forgave yourself for acting like that in the beginning because, in Nevada, no one is nice. Not without an ulterior motive, at least.)

You’re practically on a leash as Ghost leads you throughout the base. He doesn’t talk as he guides you through winding hallways and up an exhaustive amount of flights of stairs. 

Eventually, he opens a door labeled ‘ROOF EXIT.’ He tilts his head towards the door.

“Someone waitin’ for you,” Ghost says gruffly. “And…”

He fishes around in his pocket and pulls out a carton of cigarettes. Your cigarettes. 

Ghost takes your hand and puts it in your palm. “Don’t set anything on fire.”

You close your fingers around it and nod. “Got it, boss.”

Ghost starts back down the stairs, leaving you and the open door to the roof. You move through it and look around. 

Johnny’s sitting, cross-legged, on the concrete roof, facing away from you. It’s dark – obviously, it’s night. You look up and take in the stars, and…

“You have a moon,” you say softly.

Johnny looks back at you, a tentative smile on his face. Like he’s scared to be too hopeful. “Yeah. We do.”

You hum and look at Johnny. 

“Do you…” Johnny glances at the floor, then back up at you. “Do you wanna sit with me, bonnie?”

You slowly move over to Johnny and sit by him. You keep a healthy distance, but you’re still closer than you’ve ever been to him before. 

“Those fags for sharin’?” Johnny asks, a teasing smile on his face. 

You look down at the carton of cigarettes in your hand. You grip them a little tighter, causing the thin carton to crumple a bit. “Sure. Don’t know if you’ll like them, though.”

“Nonsense, bonnie.” Johnny bumps his shoulder against yours. “Let’s give ‘em a go.”

You smile and take out two cigarettes. You hand one over to Johnny. They’re hand-rolled and don’t have a filter, so they look more like joints, but the overwhelming smell of raw tobacco quickly quells that thought.

“Got a light?” you ask.

“‘Course.” Johnny reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small lighter. He lights his own cigarette, then pulls it away with a sputtering cough. 

“Steamin’ Jesus, what is that?” He asks in between coughs. 

You laugh, hitting your knee as Johnny reels from the taste. “It’s good, yeah?”

“Hell no!” Johnny wipes tears from his eyes and looks over at you. Despite his coughing, a soft smile spreads across his face at the way you’re laughing – loud, unabashed. Just like before.

You swipe Johnny’s lighter from his hand and light your cigarette, the cherry basking your face in a soft, warm glow. “Welcome to Nevada.”

“Let’s see that thing.” Johnny reaches over and takes the carton from your hand.

He turns it over, looking at it. The carton is worn, like it’s been refilled many times. There’s no warning about nicotine being an addictive chemical, just a grey box with a simple brand: G01 Choice. There’s a name scribbled on the back – Deimos, in all capital letters. 

“Deimos,” Johnny says aloud. “The man died and you stole his cigs?”

“He’s not dead.” You take the carton back and tuck it into your jacket pocket. “Not anymore. Well, he’s died lotsa times, so I guess he’s an... honorary corpse.”

“An honorary corpse,” Johnny echoes, looking down at the cigarette in his hand. He puts it out on the concrete. “Just like you, yeah?”

You take a drag off your cigarette and blow out the smoke in a single, smooth stream. “Just like me.”

A silence settles as you look up at the moon. You can feel Johnny’s eyes occasionally flitting to you, then back up at the night sky. 

“Your dogtags.” Johnny points in your direction. “Whose are they?”

You look down and tug on the metal chain, causing them to clink together. “Mine, yours, and my team’s.”

“Your team?” Johnny asks softly. “You never told me about them.”

“Yeah.” You look over at him. “I’m part of an extraction team. My partners are Sanford and Deimos.”

A pain, almost so real he thought he was actually injured, runs through Johnny when you say partners. The logical side of his brain chides him a few moments later because you obviously meant it in a militaristic sense, not a romantic sense.

“Can I see them?” Johnny asks.

You nod and take off the chain, then hand them to Johnny. He looks at the dogtags – he recognizes his and yours as being standard military dogtags, but Sanford and Deimos’ are much more… odd.

Sanford’s reads SANFORD / MELEE + EXPLOSIVES / G02 (NEG) / RETURN TO FAMILY. Deimos’ reads DEIMOS / FIREARMS + TECH / G02 (POS) / NO FAMILY. 

Johnny tilts the dogtags so that you can see them and runs a finger along the lettering. “What do these mean, bonnie?” 

You move a bit closer and lean in. “The first lines are their names, obviously. The second is what they’re proficient in. The third is what generation clone they are, and their blood types – there are only two blood types for second generation clones. And the last one is what to do with their bodies if they can’t be revived.”

“Wait, bonnie.” Johnny laughs breathlessly. “Clones?”

“Yeah, clones.” You tilt your head a little to the side. “What, you don’t have cloning technology here?”

“Of course not!” Johnny laughs.

You laugh and bump your shoulder against his. “You people are so primitive.”

Johnny smiles back at you and it’s like nothing is wrong. You both go quiet as you stare at each other until you look away.

“I, uh…” you clear your throat awkwardly. “I’m sorry for being so… abrasive. Earlier, I mean.”

“It’s alright,” Johnny says, almost too quickly. 

You scratch your cheek and glance over at Johnny, then away. “But it’s not, is it? I should’ve handled things better.”

“Someone you know died right before we talked.” Johnny reaches over and, cautiously, puts his hand over yours where it rests on your knee. “It’s expected that you don’t act like yourself.”

Your breath hitches, and Johnny squeezes your hand reassuringly in response. 

“But that’s the thing,” you say. “I’ve seen so many awful things before. People getting shot, stabbed, beaten, Hank tearing people apart with his bare hands. But, Maker…”

You drag a hand down your face, rubbing your jaw. “Deimos is young. So young. He’s only twenty-seven, and he always has a smile like he’s just tied your shoelaces together and is waiting for you to trip. And he’s so smart, even if everyone calls him a bit stupid. Yeah, he’s got a slower reaction time, but that’s what me and Sanford are for, y’know? He…”

You blink hard, trying to will your tears away. A soft, frustrated groan leaves your mouth as you duck your head and put your cigarette to your lips. “Don’t look at me.”

Johnny starts to pull his hand away, but stops when you squeeze his hand. Instead, he squeezes your hand back, averting his gaze.

To Johnny, it again almost feels like nothing ever happened. Like there’s no Russia, no Nevada, nothing besides you and him on this roof, together. But he’s no fool. He knows things have changed – that Nevada has changed you. 

You breathe out a shaky plume of cigarette smoke. “I just want to go back.”

“But you’re here now, bonnie,” Johnny says. He tries to ignore the crushing feeling in his chest, tries to keep his composure for you. “Aren’t you glad you’re back?”

“I don’t know this place.” You look over at Johnny, your eyes rimmed with unshed tears. “You keep saying that we’re together, that – that this is my home. But how can this be my home if I don’t remember a thing about it? How can you be my boyfriend if I don’t remember a thing about you?”

Johnny exhales sharply, like he’s just got the wind knocked out of him. “Bonnie, please don’t say that. Please.”

“I know violence, and I know bloodshed,” you say softly. “I know Nevada. This place, this world…” You gesture vaguely with your cigarette still in your hand. “It’s not mine.”

“But there is violence here, there is bloodshed here,” Johnny insists. “Here, we fought together.”

“But I don’t remember us being together, in any capacity!” you snap. You take a breath and try your best to soften your words. “All I remember from before is just flashes. I didn’t remember your face. I just had your dogtag and a weird, empty feeling.”

Johnny sighs and feels tears welling up in his eyes. He can’t tear his gaze away from you. 

“You really expected me to trace the bullet and sift through fleeting memories when there was an entire agency playing Pinkertons knocking down our door?” you ask softly. “2B was bandaging my head ‘cause he just finished playing around in my brains and Sanford was shoving a gun in my hands. They pointed me in a direction and told me to shoot. I didn’t have the time to remember you.

“I’m sorry, but I just didn’t.” You squeeze his hand before letting it go.

Johnny immediately scrambles to catch your hand in both of his, holding on desperately. “No, bonnie, please.”

A few tears slip down Johnny’s cheeks as he looks at you. Your face is a mirror of his own, just in greyscale. Your cheeks are stained with tears and your eyes are just beginning to get a bit puffy. 

“If you know you’re gonna be leaving again, then just let me hold your hand,” Johnny says softly, his voice wavering. “Just for a few more minutes.”

You nod and, when you blink, a tear rolls down your already-wet cheek. “Okay.”

Johnny slowly moves so that you’re sitting shoulder-to-shoulder to him. He hesitates before resting his head on your shoulder. You smell just like how he remembers, albeit tinged with the acrid tang of G01 Choice cigarette smoke. You’re just as beautiful as the day he lost you.

“Okay.”

[munsonsmixtapes]

Wanna Bet?

tattoo artist!Eddie x fem!tattoo artist!reader

word count: 4.1k

cw: brief mention of alcohol

This series is being discontinued until further notice, but feel free to continue reading if you'd like!

part one part two part four

You found yourself at the bar where Eddie had asked you to meet him and wondered if you could run before he could see you. You had much better things to do on a Saturday night than hang out with him, like giving Binx a bath or maybe pulling your eyelashes out one by one.

But there you were, sitting on one of the stools, still waiting for him even though he was thirty minutes late and he hadn’t sent a single text or given you a phone call to tell you why. You didn’t know what you were expecting. He made it very clear that he only cared about himself so of course he’d be on his own time.

You looked around the bar, wondering if there was someone you could take home so your time wouldn’t have been wasted and your eyes immediately locked on a man by the jukebox. He was just your type and clearly seemed to be into you by the way he gave you a wink and quickly made his way towards you, weaving through all of the drunk bodies to where you were sitting.

He took the unoccupied seat that you were saving for Eddie and you took the time to examine his features. He had pretty tan skin, dark blond hair that was shaved into a buzz cut and he had a big beard. He looked the exact opposite of the man you were supposed to be meeting and you liked that. It made it that much easier to not think about him or how he stood you up.

The man put his hand out to shake, accompanied by a bright smile on his face and you couldn’t help but mimic his actions, hoping, praying that he wasn’t a creep or going to ghost you like the others. You were hoping that he was just a normal, nice guy. Maybe for once, that wouldn’t be too much to ask.

“I’m James,” he introduced himself as he gave your hand a light shake before pulling his own away.

“Y/n,” you replied, letting your hand fall back into your lap while your other one wrapped tightly around the glass that contained your drink. You made it your mission to not let it out of your sight.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He asked and you quickly downed what little was left of the one you were drinking and flashed him another smile.

“Sure.” It was rare that a man wanted to buy you a drink without expecting something in return. You didn’t know why it seemed so difficult for them to just do something because it was nice. It was as if they thought that made them more manly instead of actually treating other people like humans.

“So, what are you drinking?” He leaned closer and you got a whiff of his cologne that he was definitely wearing too much off. You suppressed a cough, trying to keep the smile on your face, not wanting to lose out on your drink before you even got it.

“A pina colada.” He nodded and turned to get the bartender’s attention so he could order. Once he put the order in, he turned back to you, leaning even closer to you than before. You decided to just hold your breath until it was your turn to speak, the one whiff of his cologne being enough to last you a lifetime.

“So what do you do for a living?” You hated that answer when people asked because they always had something to say. Whether it was telling you that it wasn’t a real profession or trying to mansplain the topic as if they had done all of the apprenticeships and schooling themselves. You could never win either way.

“I’m a tattoo artist.” You held your breath for his response, hoping that he would surprise you by actually being impressed. You watched his face, looking for any sign of disgust or a laugh, but his face was blank, showing no emotion.

“Really?” He leaned back and you were sure that you weren’t going to like what he was going to say. “Do you know Eddie Munson?” And you were right. You couldn’t even escape the man when he stood you up. Of fucking course.

Your drink was set on the bar and you reached for it, taking a few sips, willing to suffer the brain freeze just to not have to answer the question. You couldn’t have one guy, could you? Maybe you were destined to be alone. You could get a few more cats and just be a cat lady. That sounded more and more inviting than constantly putting yourself out there.

You weighed your options carefully. If you told him the truth, that you actually did know Eddie, the conversation would just be about him and you really didn’t want that. But if you lied and told him that, no, you didn’t know him, he’d definitely lose interest in you and any chance you had of taking him home would be gone. And you’d also be stuck with paying for your drink and you really couldn’t have that, especially since you couldn’t even afford it with the very sad amount of money that was sitting in your bank account.

“Actually-” you started to say, but James’s attention was no longer on you, his head turning towards the front door of the bar. You followed his gaze and there was Eddie, giving one of the guys that was by the door a hug. Speak of the fucking devil. He was over an hour late and didn’t even seem sorry about it since he hadn’t even spared you a glance, too focused on his conversation to even remember why he was there in the first place.

Eventually, his eyes locked on yours and you just turned away, sipping on your cocktail, trying your best to pretend that he wasn’t even there. The night had barely even started and your bed was looking more and more inviting as you realized that you wouldn’t be taking anyone home. Eddie seemed to have been unintentionally ruining everything in your life and you were just tired of him. You had half a mind to just throw in the towel and let him win the best so you could get the tattoo and never have to see his stupid face again.

“He’s coming over, how’s my hair?” Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at the very little amount of hair that sat atop his head, wondering what he was getting at.

“Nonexistent,” you replied, and he just smiled. The night was just getting worse by the second.

“Perfect.” You wondered what Eddie had done to make pretty much every man that was interested in tattoos to be so interested in him. You weren’t discounting his talent because he was very talented, but so were many other men in the industry. Men who were nice and actually cared about their careers and didn’t seem to only use it to get people to sleep with him.

You let out an obnoxious laugh, trying to show him just what he had been missing by showing up late. That it could have been him you were laughing with if he had actually bothered to show up at the time you agreed to meet up. James just gave you a confused look and let out a laugh of his own, but only to cover up how uncomfortable he was.

You felt a hand rest on your lower back and you didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. It was obvious by the way James’s mouth fell open in shock. Nothing was coming out but a stutter as his brain tried to catch up to what he was trying to say and you found it very tempting to go home, leaving the two of them to gush over how great Eddie was. They would have definitely liked that.

“So you do know him,” James finally spoke and you tried to keep your smile on your face, still convinced you had a sliver of a shot with him even though it was more than likely that he wanted to leave with Eddie more.

“Talking about me, huh?” You heard Eddie chuckle from behind you. Of course you were, because all your conversations about your career were always about him. Maybe that was why you hated him so much. All of his trying to get under your skin aside, he really wasn’t that bad of a guy. You were just sick of hearing about him when you were supposed to be the topic.

What was so special about him, anyway? What was it about him that made men gush like a school girl with a crush? It was as if he was a celebrity and they all were his devoted fanbase, willing to do whatever they could to get the chance to meet him. Even the women you had heard talk about him didn’t seem to be as passionate about their love for him and it made you wonder what kind of chokehold he had on them.

“Who’s your friend?” Before you couldn’t even get the words out, James launched himself forwards, stumbling off his stool as he pushed his hand in Eddie’s direction, almost hitting you in the face with it.

“I’m James Alexander, big fan.” His eyes lit up as he introduced himself and Eddie took his hand and gave it a brief shake, not interested in the slightest in making conversation with him. He had seen the two of you talking and couldn’t believe that the guy was willing to toss you to the side in favor of him. Eddie thought that the guy should have considered himself lucky to have your attention.

“Nice to meet you,” Eddie nodded, wondering how he could politely tell him to beat it. He didn’t like that he was literally falling over himself to speak to him when you were already in the middle of a conversation with him. He hated that he had been talking to you in general, but now he was treating you like chopped liver because a better offer came along.

“Man, I love your work and have been trying to get an appointment with you for months. Do you by chance have any openings that you could fit me into?” No fucking way. He wasn’t going to treat you like shit then try to book an appointment with him like it was nothing. Eddie never gave out special treatment, especially not to dickheads like James. He never minded shutting people down and he was going to have fun with this one.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You blurted out and both men turned to you, their eyes wide in shock. All of the anger you had held in for years was finally coming out and you weren’t going to hold it in any longer. It was as if you were a can of soda that someone had shaken up for a long time and decided to open, the liquid spilling everywhere.

“Excuse me?” James turned back to you, the smile on his face now replaced with a look of offense.

“I said are you fucking kidding me? I thought we were having a good time and now you’re abandoning me for him?” You jerked your thumb towards Eddie who just nodded in agreement. He wanted to applaud you for standing up for yourself and knowing your worth. That you weren’t going to let a loser like James take advantage of you.

“If I’m being honest, I already knew who you were and that you had a connection to Eddie.” Hearing those words made Eddie feel sick to his stomach. He balled up his fists, resisting the urge to punch the guy in the face and so were you. Maybe you could have really taught him a lesson if you tag-teamed to beat his ass.

“Oh, so you were using me. Right, got it.” The night really couldn’t have gotten any worse, could it? You were glad that the lighting in the bar had been low so that neither Eddie nor James could see the tears welling up in your eyes. It was embarrassing that you were about to cry in public and over a man. You had officially hit rock bottom and you were sure that there was absolutely no way back to the top.

“You’re a fucking ass,” Eddie spoke up. “You really think that I’d let you get away with treating her like garbage? Especially in favor of me?” James was at a loss of words at the hits he was receiving from both you and Eddie. He was just trying to shoot his shot and you were acting as if had done something offensive.

You turned to Eddie and you were at just the right angle to see his jaw clench. So he really was angry. He wasn’t just putting on a show to make you think that he cared as a way to win the bet. You appreciated that he was standing up for you and not just standing by, watching like you thought he was going to.

“And in response to your tattoo request, no fucking way. I don’t do favors, especially not for ugly losers who hurt women. So, I suggest you get out of here before I have my friend, Ziggy throw you out.” Eddie nodded his head towards the door where a big, scary man was standing with his arms crossed over his chest. He looked like he could have sent James flying across the bar with one flickand you almost wanted him to make a fuss so you could see it happen. It was what he deserved, after all.

Without a word, James turned to head towards the exit, a look of terror flashing across his face. As soon as he was gone, Eddie occupied the now empty stool, turning to face you. You could see him eyeing your drink and pushed the glass towards him, supposing that you could give him a sip in return for defending you.

Eddie took a long pull from the straw then pushed the cup back over to you before turning to order a drink of his own. Not long after, a glass of whiskey was set in front of him and he took a sip while you continued to stare at him, wondering why he had defended you. Especially since he hadn’t gotten anything out of it. You figured he just hadn’t asked yet and wondered what he was going to request from you.

“Thank you,” you spoke up and he just continued to sip on his whiskey, watching the bartenders run around behind the bar, mixing drinks.

“You’re welcome,” he replied. “Couldn’t let that asshole get away with what he did without saying something. You had it pretty covered, though. I was pretty sure that you were going to beat his ass.”

“I almost did, but I didn’t want you to think I was crazy.” Eddie didn’t think you were crazy at all. He actually thought your feelings were very valid. He thought you had every right to be angry.

“I wouldn’t have thought you were crazy.” He shook his head. “In fact, I would have cheered you on.”

“Really?” You turned your head to the side like a curious puppy and Eddie thought it was adorable. As much as he liked seeing you angry, he liked seeing the soft side of you too.

“Really,” he nodded. “Does that happen a lot?”

“What?” You didn’t know why you were asking when you knew exactly what he was referring to.

“Men trying to talking about me in your conversations.”

“All the time,” you rolled your eyes. “You have no idea.” Eddie didn’t like knowing that.

“That’s really fucked up.”

“Tell me about it. It’s like the second I mention that I’m a tattoo artist, I see the gears turning in their head and just based on the looks on their faces, I can tell if they’re going to ask if I know you. I-I think that’s why I hate you so much. Because it’s like I can’t have a single conversation without you being the center of it. And the thing is, I looked up to you. Like, you were the whole reason why I wanted to be a tattoo artist and now it’s all tainted by a bunch of stupid men.”

If Eddie was being honest, his brain short-circuited after hearing that he was the whole reason why you became a tattoo artist. He would have never guessed that by the way you treated him, but he supposed he would have been the same if the roles had been reversed.

“Y/n…” For once, the man that could never shut his fucking mouth had been rendered speechless. “I honestly had no idea about any of that. And I’m sorry that you had to go through all of that. Men are dicks and I know it’s not necessarily my fault, but I feel like I should apologize.”

Now he just felt bad for fucking with you when you were clearly rightfully upset. He knew it wasn’t necessarily his fault but he couldn’t help but feel like he caused the entire mess. He wished there was a way to end your misery, but there really wasn’t. Unless he took your for himself so you wouldn’t have to go on another lousy date.

“I wasn’t asking for an apology. I just wanted you to know why I was so upset with you. I’m sorry for being such a bitch, okay?”

“No,” he shook his head, resting his hand on top of yours. “You’re not a bitch at all. I deserved every single jab.”

You liked this side of Eddie. The side that could be kind and apologetic for the harm he had caused. Having that conversation with him almost made him seem like a normal person, not the big-headed man you had known for a couple of weeks.

“Well, thank you. Can we-can we just start over?” You were honestly getting tired of holding your grudge against him and thought that the two of you could actually be friends with how much you seemed to have in common.

“Sounds good to me. I’m Eddie.” He put his hand out for you to shake.

“Y/n,” you replied, giving his hand a shake before sliding yours out of it, letting it fall back into your lap.

“Nice to meet you.” He gave you a nod and you mimicked his actions, deciding that it was actually nice to meet him this time.

“You too.”

Looking at Eddie, you didn’t feel the rage you normally did. It was as if telling him the truth caused that huge weight that was sitting on your shoulders to be lifted. You could finally breathe again.

Now that you had finally let go of your grudge against him, you could appreciate how attractive he really was. The way his hair fell so perfectly around his shoulders, the messy curls still somehow looking perfect. His pretty brown eyes that you felt like you could just fall into. His rough looking hands that you wanted to roam all over your body.

Your eyes raked down his body, wondering how he looked good in every single thing he wore. You were convinced that he could have worn a paper bag and looked hot.

Your eyes trailed down further and stopped at his waist, admiring how his jeans hugged him in just the right, wishing he wasn’t sitting so you could have gotten a glimpse of his ass. You found yourself looking at it anyway even though you couldn’t see the full thing, wishing you had looked at it with all the chances you had before.

Eddie glanced over at you and you quickly turned to face forward, suddenly very interested in your drink, watching it melt slowly before your eyes. Your cheeks heated as you realized that you had been caught and you rested your cheek against your hand as you leaned your elbow against the bar so he couldn’t see the pink tint.

“If you wanted to check out my ass, sugar, you could have just asked.” He let out a laugh then stood up from his stool. He then took his phone out of his pocket, gently dropping it to the floor. “Oh no, I dropped by phone. Guess I have to bend over to pick it up.” You rolled your eyes at his dramatics but found yourself turning to look at him as he slowly bent over to retrieve his phone from the floor. You watched him grab hold of it, but he was still hunched over, moving his ass this way and that, making you want to stare at it even more.

After a few more seconds, he then stood up and turned to face you. You didn’t know what was coming over you. One second you were looking at him and the next, you were grabbing him by the shirt, pressing your lips to his roughly. If he asked, you were just going to blame it on the alcohol.

Eddie gasped at the sudden movement, but quickly melted into you, his hands resting on your waist while yours moved to his hair. You took no time to lick into his mouth and he was more than happy to let you inside and do whatever you wanted to him. He was just along for the ride.

“This isn’t part of the bet,” you told him, pulling away just enough to speak, then you immediately attached your lips again.

“Of course it’s not,” he replied against your lips, pulling you closer to him. “This is just a product of too many drinks.” Neither of you had enough to drink to even be drunk, but you were going to agree just so you could feel his lips on yours. It was Eddie’s turn to lick into your mouth and you gave his tongue a rough suck, causing him to let out a little whimper. You both then immediately let go of each other, deciding that things were getting a little too heated considering that you were in public.

“Do you wanna move things to my van,” he asked, jerking his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the parking lot. You could feel your underwear dampening just thinking about it, but you didn’t think it was a good idea. You knew that if you had slept with him, you’d only want more and you were not about to let him win just because you were a little wet. You had a vibrator at home that could definitely get the job done.

“Nope,” you shook your head. “I just wanted a little taste.” You both paid your tabs and you hopped off of your stool before holding a hand out to him. “But I’ll let you walk me to my car.”

“I’ll take it.” He slid his hand into yours and it was just as rough as you had imagined. Not that you had been imagining what it would have been like to hold hands with him.

You pulled Eddie out of the bar and led him down the street to where you had parked. He had to admit that he liked how you took charge, pulling him along without a second thought. He liked the idea of following you wherever you were willing to take him. He didn’t care as long as he was with you.

You stopped when you got to your vehicle and Eddie couldn’t help but feel jealous that you knew how to parallel park. Of course you did. He was convinced that you could do anything. You slowly pulled your keys out of your purse, trying your best to stall to see if he would kiss you. He clearly hadn’t gotten the hint so you were yet again going to spell it out for him.

“Well, goodnight. I actually had a good time.” And you meant that. Eddie wasn’t half bad to hang out with when he wasn’t thinking with his dick. He was actually sweet and funny.

“Goodnight,” he nodded. “Text me when you get home okay? So I know you got there safe.”

“Sure,” you nodded. “The same goes for you.”

Taking matters into your own hands, your grabbed Eddie by his cheeks and gave him another kiss, this one softer and sweeter than the other ones. Just as he was getting into it, you pulled away and got into your car before he could see the blush on your cheeks.

You gave him a wave through the window then quickly drove away, wondering what the hell you had gotten yourself into. You had let your hormones take over and had made things weird between the two of you. All because you just had to listen to your urges. You weren’t sure how you were going to continue to see him without wanting to jump his bones, but you were going to damn well try.

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Drunk (Will Graham)

Description: Y/N is drunk and has a secret.

Word Count:630

Y/N was drunk. She was what people would call “shitfaced.” She and Will went out to the bar to have a drink but that drink went from one to a ton. At least for her it did. Will kept sober and only had a few drinks. He never let himself get drunk especially in front of Y/N. He cared a lot about her and was worried he’d out himself to her. Maybe he’d out himself about the murder he once committed or the fact that he was in love with her. But he never wanted to find out so he never got drunk with her.

Y/N on the other hand wasn’t afraid of what she would say, or at least it appears that way. Her giggles were adorable as she held onto Will as he carried her to the couch of his home. Y/N lived too far away for him to drive right now and he didn’t wanna leave her alone. “Man, I wish Hannibal was here.” She slurred her words. He gave her a weird look and laughed. “Hannibal? Why?” She shrugged and yawned. “I need someone that I can tell my secrets to.” He sat down on the couch by her feet. “You can tell me your secrets.” He said. “But Hannibal…” She trailed off. “Are you into Hannibal?” He asked, praying that she wasn’t.

“Nope I’m into Will.” She slurred and giggled. His eyes widened at her words. There’s no way. It had to be the alcohol talking. She sat up and giggled. She put her finger to his lips, “Shhhh. You can’t tell him though.” She said. Will shook his head, “I won’t.” “Good.” She nodded and laid back down. Will stared at her as she passed out on the couch. Thoughts were racing in his head. Did she mean it? Was she into him? He had to find out in the morning. 

He ended up taking her to her bed and he passed out on the couch. She had gotten up before him and smiled at the sight of him sleeping. “Hey.” She tapped him. He opened his eyes, “Hey.” He whispered. “Thank you for staying. You didn’t have to.” He smiled. “Had to make sure you were okay.” “Yeah, I probably said something I shouldn’t have.” He was wide awake now. He sat up and looked at her, “What do you mean?” She shrugged. “I don’t remember anything.”

He debated on whether or not he should tell her what she told him. What if she didn’t mean it? He thought as he stared off into space. “Will?” She snapped her fingers in his face. He shook his head and looked at her. “You can tell me what I said. Yeah I’ll probably die of embarrassment but still I should know what awful secret I told you.” He smiled, “It wasn’t an awful secret.” She sat down next to him, “Then what was it?”

He looked at her and looked at her lips. Without really thinking about what he was doing he leaned in and kissed her. She was in shock at his action and didn’t kiss back fast enough. He pulled away just before she could, “I’m sorry. That wasn’t okay of me to do.” “I told you I liked you didn’t I?” He nodded. She smiled and leaned in to kiss him but before she did, “I take it you like me back?” She asked and he nodded. This time they both kissed each other and it felt right. Once the needed oxygen they pulled away. She giggled and he let out a breathy laugh. “Wow.” He said. She smiled and ran her fingers over his swollen lips. “I’m so glad you got drunk.” He joked and she giggled and kissed him again.

[mcflymemes]

AS SAID BY CASSANDRA PENTAGHAST  *  assorted dialogue from dragon age inquisition, updated version

the truth is more important than my reputation, and anyone willing to accuse me of weakness is welcome to try.

i cannot stop thinking of our earlier discussion.

you enjoy making things complicated, don't you?

you can't be serious.

i simply wanted to steal a moment, while i still can.

i will not let him take you from me.

i want a man who sweeps me off my feet, who gives me flowers and reads me poetry by candlelight. i want the ideal.

pretend you don't know this about me.

the flirting. with me. i've... noticed it. unless it is my imagination, which is entirely possible.

i'm thinking less flattering things now.

perhaps this would be a good time to stop talking.

what makes you think i would welcome your pity?

you so rarely call me by my name, [name]. why is that?

you were together for a long time?

i enjoy fighting at your side, [name].

you're not as handsome as you think.

romance is not the sole province of dithering ladies in frilly dresses. it is passion. it is being swept away by the pursuit of an ideal. what is not to like about that?

i was hoping we could speak privately.

you're smiling a great deal these days. do you always do it while staring dreamily into the distance?

such fascinations reveal far more about the teller than the truth.

i did not realize it took so little to exceed your expectations.

i do not trust any event where hitting someone isn't an option.

me? in a dress? it's ludicrous!

what would i have to blush about?

i take it you think i'm frightening?

if you had done that in our last sparring match, you might have won.

were you not suggesting earlier i should be more intimidating?

how is manipulating and bullying people supposed to be enjoyable?

i don't wear "underpants."

if you are going to pursue this, make it worth it. be happy.

i've never considered what i must look like to someone common. i must indeed seem terrifying.

i wasn't very interested to begin with.

you will never let that go, will you?

i do not "rough people up."

do not pretend to be an innocent bystander.

are you eager to see me go?

what we had was fleeting.

this... is not a discussion i want to have here.

not all my feelings involve stabbing.

i am not without my sympathy, especially given recent events.

i thought you might be concerned.

i suppose that is all we will ever know.

thank you, [name]. that... does make me feel better.

i assume you have advice?

when it is done, i promise what you have done here will not be forgotten.

i thought you would be pleased.

no one has ever accused me of reinforcing reality before.

i should not have asked.

you have seen so much sadness in your journeys.

your opinion of me must be very low to surprise you so often.

i know myself and i cannot be the leader we need. thus, i have no regrets.

the world hinges on our actions. we face death at every turn.

it was an accident. well... mostly an accident.

we must pray it never comes to that.

what made you change your mind?

[kenyaru]

STILL HURTS | 02

I MISSED YOU... synopsis | the next day, the ex-couple meets up as planned at the Bean Scene to talk it out. bradley is nervous, but he knows he needs to do this, to be open and break past his shell and keep max in his life; he does love him after all. genre | fluff, making up, lovey-dovey, bradley ooc, mixed-pov (brad/max) pairing | max goof x bradley uppercrust iii (maxley) warnings | L-bombs (a lot srry!), sappy lol, mild cursing word count | 2.05k author's note | hi! thanks SO much for the support on part 1! I'm glad everyone liked it- and here is the awaited sequel. i hope it's not too ooc for Brad, but I feel he would be genuinely apologetic as Max has been the only one to trust him. i'm considering doing a ken sato oneshot or something else; not too sure yet! lmk any requests! enjoy reading! <3

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once that final text was sent, Bradley’s mind finally felt at ease. The brunette had spent weeks trying to get through to his ex-lover, a multitude of calls and messages to hopefully get a chance to explain himself. But even he didn’t believe in his own words. He knew what he said was wrong- how he acted based on his insecure feelings, how he basically called Max a slur indirectly. Bradley knew now what it was, how it felt to take someone for granted; you never know how much you needed them until they were gone. Bradley had been in a wreck of his own emotions and guilt. Every waking moment was as if his heart was on fire and crumbling, burning at the stake of his own actions and forcing him to replay their argument over and over again in his mind. 

Everything he did reminded him of Max; grabbing coffee at the Bean Scene, the occasional awkward glances at P.J. and Bobby in the library, skating. Skating definitely hurt the most. That was what they bonded over, and doing it alone, that was a new type of pain that Bradely wasn’t ready for. 

He knew Max needed space and was willing to give him that, but a part of him didn’t know how much longer he could wait. He felt anxious with every day gone by that his message was left unread, that Max was so clearly ignoring him in every way possible. Bradley hadn’t seen Max’s beautiful black eyes or his adorable smile in a little over a month and he was losing it. Scrolling through their old photos, opening his contact and hovering over the call button over and over- he was so lost without Max. But, finally, it seemed like all this hell took a pause when Bradely saw Max’s name pop up in his recent messages. Finally, after so long he got a response. He opened it so fast he didn’t even have a chance to process, to let his thoughts overthink and suspect what the other had messaged. 

Bradley responded quickly, putting his phone on the charger and headed into the bathroom to brush his teeth before heading to bed. He wasn’t entirely confident in being ready, but he was sure as hell ready enough to see Max. He just prayed the feelings he felt were reciprocated and that they could move on from this, that Max could understand him. 

—————-

Just as he texted, Bradley was up and awake, at the Bean Scene around 5:45 to order himself and Max’s usual coffee. He knew they would need it. He didn’t even realize he was tapping his leg, running an anxious hand through his hair as he struggled to keep his composure. He was glad no one was here to watch this; to see someone usually so confident crumble at just the thought of someone else’s disappointment in him.

That was Max’s power over him. 

Just as he suspected, Max walked in at around 6:05, he was checking the time as often as he could, so of course he knew the exact moment the ravenette entered the cafe. Max spotted him rather quickly too, making his way over and taking a seat across from Bradley. 

Bradley didn’t know how to start. Should he reach out to him? He really wanted to hug him or hold his hand, but he knew that was too much to ask for right now. The dim lights beamed down on them, creating a calm atmosphere that didn’t help to ease the tension. 

Before he could even process, Max beat him to the first word. 

“Hey.” Max’s voice sounded softer, somehow sadder, like being there was a detriment to his emotions. It broke Bradley’s heart. 

“Hi.” Bradley responded, his voice matching the tone, though his mind was racing. He gently pushed Max’s cup towards him. “Got you your usual.” 

Max gave him a smile, taking the cup in his hands, feeling the warmth spread through his body from the cup. He could smell the slightly sweet aroma from the vanilla latte, his mouth remembering the sweet taste. He took a sip, relishing in it, and feeling his slightly tired mood beginning to lift. Bradley always knew how to get to him; just the right ways to make him feel better. 

But his heart didn’t feel completely at ease, and Bradley could tell that. So, he decided to push past the anxiety and start the conversation. 

“I should have never said that to you.” Bradley started. He didn’t want to start with ‘sorry.’ Even if he knew it would come out easier, it would sound fake, and he meant everything but.

“I let my insecurities get in the way,” He gripped his own coffee cup in his hands, the heat radiating just as Max’s did. “And I said things I didn’t mean. I don’t think you would do that to me, and I’m so, so sorry for accusing you.” 

Bradley could see Max’s eyes, see as he considered what Bradley was saying and was thinking of his own response. 

“Do you know how much it hurts? To hear you accuse me of something like that when my heart has only been for you?” 

Bradley could hear the strain in his voice, how he was already getting emotional. He hated it; hated being the one that caused that, that caused this pain in the person that he was supposed to love. Of course he wouldn’t, of course he wouldn’t know what it felt like. He imagined it to be horrible and offensive. He wouldn’t forgive himself either. 

“I know, that’s why I wanted to talk to you. I..” 

Bradley felt like he couldn’t get his thoughts straight, like Max being there was making this all the more difficult. But he had to do it. He had to show Max that he was being genuine, which he was, and that what he said wasn’t his true feelings. 

“I said that to you because I was..still nervous. I was still scared that you were more interested in picking up girls than dating me. And fuck, I realized how wrong I was.” 

Bradley didn’t know what his expression looked like, but the way Max’s eyes shifted when he looked at him meant something. 

“Angel, I am in love with you. I regretted every moment since then that we couldn’t talk, that you were hurting, that I couldn’t explain myself to you.” 

He knew he sounded pitiful and desperate, but he meant every word. He felt hopeless without Max. He used to hate this feeling; having to rely on someone. But, this wasn’t reliance, this was realization. Love. 

Max didn’t answer for a little, taking another sip of his coffee, contemplating what to say. Bradley hated the silence. 

Finally, Max spoke up. 

“How will I know..you won’t say that again? That you won’t let your insecurities get in the way?” 

Max asked softly, looking down at the lid of his coffee cup. 

“If you were still unsure, why didn’t you just ask me? You know I wouldn't hesitate to reassure you..” 

Max was right, and Bradley knew it too. Max was the type of partner to reassure when needed and try to lift the other up, and Bradley knew that. So why, why, would he say such a thing just because he felt a way? There was no excuse. 

Bradley didn’t answer, he couldn’t. Every response sounded like an excuse. Maybe he wasn’t ready for a relationship. This wasn’t the first time he messed up either; there were a few little arguments here and there, but it felt like this was the big bad. 

Bradley wanted to say something, but before he could, Max was already getting up. He took some money and coins out of his pocket and put it on the table.

“I think I just need some more time. I thought I was ready, but I’m not sure..” 

Before he could think, Bradley got to his feet and took a hold of Max’s arm. What was he doing? What was he planning to say to make Max stay? This was too much, just- 

“Max, I’m sorry. I know I can’t change what I said, and I know I need to work on my personal feelings about myself, but I love you, and I realize now more than ever that you are the only person I would trust with my heart.” 

Max’s breath hitched. He felt his heart beat in his chest as he heard Bradley’s confession. Bradley had trusted him, believed in him rather, and he knew that he would be the one to help him with those complex feelings that were holding him back.

Max was conflicted. He wanted to forgive, to give his love the chance that he deserved, but he knew that there was a chance this could happen again. Maybe that was the exact reason he had to forgive. No one had treated him how Bradley did, romantically at least. Max got the protective treatment from his Dad all the time, but getting it from a lover was a different story. 

It felt great to be pampered and get kissed and be seen as someone greater than himself. He knew Bradley would try for him, especially now that he had confessed it to him semi-publically. 

“Do you mean that?” 

Bradley’s heart jumped as he pulled Max to face him, looking into his dark eyes with a serious expression. 

“Yes, I do. I swear.” 

Ever since the Gammas exiled him, Bradley was sure he wouldn’t be accepted again, would be by himself and have no one by his side. But then Max, the one guy who he caused trouble for, stepped out and gave him that chance. He would never forget it. That was his Heaven on earth. Seeing Max’s beautiful face in the mists of the dark clouds, hearing his words of comfort and acceptance. 

Max gave him a smile. The smile he had missed so much before taking Bradley’s hand in his and returning the expression, but softer. 

“I believe you,” Max said, moving in a little closer before speaking again. “I love you too, but you need to be sure that you will be open and that if you feel those things, you would let me know.” 

Bradley could feel his heart thump loudly in his ears as Max’s calm voice filled his head. He nodded, hesitating before moving, deciding to ask the obvious question. 

“Can I hug you?” 

Max nodded, pulling Bradley in for the hug and holding him close. Finally, he could be in his embrace again. Bradley felt warmth spread all throughout his body as he took in Max’s scent and the way his t-shirt felt against his fingers. It was what he needed, what he desired. He was down bad.

Max lifted his head from Bradley’s shoulder and looked at him once again. 

“I’m sorry for ignoring you. I was just overwhelmed and…” 

Bradley knew that Max was going to spew into apologies; the Goofy in him couldn’t handle Bradley being the only one apologizing. Bradley gave him a smile and gently kissed his lips as a way of stopping his sentence. 

“Angel, I understand. You should be the last one apologizing.” 

Bradley moved his hand to gently caress the others’ cheek, admiring his features. 

“Are you sure we’re okay? Like, we’re still together and everything? I know last time we spoke, we kind of..” 

Max shook his head, debunking any of Bradley’s theories regarding their current relationship. He couldn’t imagine not dating him. 

“Yeah, we are. You even bought me coffee; automatic plus.” 

Bradley chuckled softly at this comment. This is what he missed about Max: their casual banter, and the way something so serious can dissolve into something so sweet. 

“Of course, I know how to get to you.” 

“Am I getting my money back?” Max asked, referring to the change on the table. 

“No, you did that to yourself, love.” 

Max let out a dramatic sigh with a smile, his two front teeth showing as he did. He pulled Bradley in for another hug, holding him close before whispering, 

“You’re such a sap sometimes.” 

Bradley laughed and returned the hug, planting a soft kiss on Max’s cheek. 

“Only for you.”  ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[thedemoninmywalls]

Fallen Angel Ch. 1

(Angel!Aro x Rire AU) Aro is a guardian angel who has failed to protect the human she was supposed to be guarding. Terrified of Heaven's wrath, she makes a desperate deal with a sadistic demon prince named Rire - and he has plans for her…

Aro was not your typical angel. 

She did not have large white wings or special powers, and she lived on Earth among the humans. In the angelic hierarchy, she was considered low ranking, less holy than those who dwelled above in Heaven. 

 But if a human looked closely, they could sense an otherworldly spirit in Aro. 

Every angel has a mission, and Aro took hers very seriously. She was a guardian angel, and her job was to protect one Dr. Larry Bergen. 

Dr. Bergen was a neuroscientist. He worked at a big prestigious hospital, and he helped people with various neurological diseases. The Heavenly Authorities wanted to protect him because he was improving the human species. He was doing great things, so they assigned Aro to guard him. 

Aro was very proud of her mission. Despite their flaws, she loved humans. She loved their arts and culture and innovations. She felt like she was doing something to help humans when she protected Dr. Bergen. Though she was just a low ranking angel, Aro was happy on Earth and happy with her life. 

But one day, Aro failed. 

On that morning, Dr. Bergen was riding to work on his bicycle. He did not see the car swerve across the road. 

Aro hurried in just in time to see Dr. Bergen get hit. His frail human body went sprawling across the pavement. He was dead the moment he hit the ground. There was nothing she could do, and the feeling was burned into her mind forever. 

Even angels cannot bring people back from the dead. 

Traumatized, Aro fled the scene of death. She was too afraid to take responsibility for her actions, her lapse in judgment. Instead, she tried to hide in a small dark corner of the Earth. 

What could she do? Heaven did not tolerate failure. They would surely punish her. She had failed Dr. Bergen, his friends and family, and humanity itself. His death kept replaying in her mind, and she did not know how to stop it. 

In that dark, lonely corner, Aro did the one thing she knew how to do, the first thing that all angels are taught to do - she prayed to God. 

“Please,” she sobbed pitifully. “Please help me!” 

Aro stayed there for a long time without any food, water or sleep, praying incessantly. Finally, someone answered her prayers. 

But it wasn't God. 

A tall, handsome man approached. He looked human, but there was a distinctly divine spirit in him. He came alone, but his presence was overwhelming. 

When Aro saw him, her blood turned to ice. She had never seen a demon before. 

Every angel knew that demons were enemies. They were strong and powerful; they could rip apart angels like they were mere humans. 

But this man did not move to attack Aro. His voice was deep and smooth as butter. 

“My name is Rire,” he said. “I have come to answer your prayers.” 

“W-Why?” Aro whispered hoarsely. 

“I know what you did,” the demon replied. “I imagine the Heavenly Authorities will be looking for you.” 

Aro shuddered. He was right, and likely the human police were looking for her as well. She couldn't stand the thought of facing either of them. 

“What should I do?” she asked softly. 

Rire held out his hand to her. “Come with me,” he said. “And I will protect you.” 

If she had been thinking clearly, Aro might have thought twice about making a deal with a demon. But she was afraid, alone, and traumatized. She had failed both the angels and humans. What was left for her here? 

In the end, Aro decided it was better to leap into the unknown than face the punishment she knew was coming. 

In Heaven, Aro was told that even touching a demon could burn an angel’s skin. But when she shook Rire’s hand, nothing happened. 

Rire grinned, and the sharp whiteness of his teeth seemed blinding to Aro. 

She closed her eyes. 

—--------------------------

When Aro opened her eyes, everything changed. 

She was no longer in the dark corner. It seemed that the demon had transported her somewhere else. 

Now she found herself in a beautiful bedroom, with a tall ceiling and velvet curtains. The bed was laid out with the softest linens, and the clothes hanging in the closet were rich and elegant. 

There was more luxury in this one room than Aro had ever seen in her lifetime. Like all angels, she had been taught to live modestly; this kind of material richness was completely foreign to her. 

There were windows behind the thick velvet curtains, and Aro peered through them to figure out where she was. She was met with a vastly expansive view, looking down at a cityscape that seemed to stretch for miles. There was no sunlight; the city was lit by a dark red glow that seemed to come from beneath. The small, twisted streets were packed with strange creatures scurrying here and there, going about their day. 

Demons. 

Aro felt like she was going to throw up. This was Hell. She was actually in Hell. All her life she’d heard horror stories about Hell, about the atrocities that occur there, especially to innocent angels. 

“Making yourself at home?” 

A familiar voice interrupted Aro’s thoughts. Rire was standing by the bed. The red lighting flattered his handsome features. Slowly, Aro turned to face him. 

“This is Hell,” she whispered in horror. 

“Yes,” Rire raised an eyebrow at this obvious knowledge. “I live here.” 

“I-I can't be here,” Aro whimpered. “The demons, they'll –” 

“You're not going anywhere,” Rire took a menacing step towards her. “I said I would protect you, and I will.” 

Instinctively Aro stepped back. “Why?” 

“Hmm, how should I put this?” Rire tapped his chin condescendingly. “All demons are taught to be afraid of angels. We're natural enemies, after all. But here I see a failed angel, scared and alone, just desperate to make a deal. Only an idiot would pass up an opportunity like this.” 

“Y-You can't keep me here!” Aro cried. “You said yourself that Heaven will be looking for me!” 

“Up there, yes,” Rire agreed. “But they’ll never come down here and soil their pretty robes. You angels are just as afraid of demons as we are of you.” 

He took another step closer. 

“Besides,” he continued. “Do you really think the angels will want you back after what you did? They have no use for a failure.” 

Angrily, Aro opened her mouth to argue - but nothing came out. As far as she could tell, he was right. There was nothing for her up there. 

Rire chuckled. “You know, I’ve fucked many, many people in my time…but never an angel.” 

He unzipped his pants, revealing a cock that was as massive as he was tall. It was erect and slick with arousal. 

Aro stared. She had never seen a man's nudity before. But as he moved towards her, she suddenly knew exactly what was about to happen. 

Dropping to her knees, Aro raised her hands in supplication. 

“Please,” she begged. “Don't do this. It's wrong, it's immoral…please–” 

Rire seized a fistful of Aro's hair and forced her dry mouth around his cock. She gasped and choked as the huge thing invaded her throat, stretching her mouth and jaw to its limits. Her nose was buried in his dark pubic hair; his musk was overwhelming. 

If she were a human, and had lungs, she might have actually choked to death. But she was an angel, and she could only bounce helplessly with each thrust of his hips. She tried to hit him, or push him away, but his grip on her hair was like iron. 

Rire only released her when he reached orgasm, his thick cum shooting down her throat. As soon as he let go of her hair, Aro pulled back, panting heavily. Again Rire approached her, his cock still erect and dripping with her saliva. 

“Please, stop–!” Aro cried. 

It did not even occur to her to fight back. She fully believed that Rire was stronger than her, and she’d been trained to obey a higher power. 

Ignoring her pathetic pleading, Rire roughly shoved her onto the soft bed. One hand pinned her throat to the mattress and his other hand yanked up her robe, revealing an untouched pussy, already wet with unwanted arousal. 

The sight of it made Rire lose all self control. He rutted into her like an animal, his grip on her throat tightening with every brutal thrust. 

“Your virgin hole is so tight,” he panted. “Forget about being an angel. You're my personal fucktoy now.” 

Tears streamed down Aro's face as she vainly scratched at Rire’s arm. The pain was horrible, but even worse was the pleasure. Angels were not supposed to feel this way. Angels were supposed to be spiritual beings, unbothered by such fleeting physical pleasures. 

After this her body would always ache to be filled, to be violated. She was no better than a human now, a weak, fragile human who melted at the merest touch. 

“Oh God,” Aro sobbed. 

“I am your god now,” Rire snarled. “From now on you will pray to me! Say my name.” 

“R-Rire,” Aro moaned his name obediently. Suddenly waves of orgasmic ecstasy shot through her body, and she screamed, “Rire!!” 

A few seconds later, Rire’s seed flooded Aro's guts. He pulled out, and his thick white cum spilled over her bare thighs and the sheets beneath her. 

“Ahhh…that was very good,” Rire sighed contentedly. He released her throat and brushed some hair out of her face gently. 

Without another word, Rire crawled off the bed and began zipping up his pants. After making sure he looked presentable, he simply walked out the door, leaving Aro alone again. 

For her part, Aro could barely move. Her throat and thighs were badly bruised. Her legs and ass were sticky with cum and sweat. When she swallowed, she could still taste him. 

Worst of all, her abused pussy ached, pulsing with newfound desire. It would never feel the same way again. Her body had betrayed her, forced her to accept these evil feelings as hers. 

After a while, Aro mustered up enough energy to roll over on her side. The least she could do was get comfortable in Rire's bed. Right now all she wanted to do was sleep, sleep away the pain and the trauma and the grief.  Maybe, when she woke up, she would be back in her own home on Earth, watching over Dr. Bergen. Maybe when she woke up, all of this would just be a terrible nightmare. 

[l0serloki]

Dangers

Val Agents reacting to their S/O in danger!

(Chamber, Sova, Fade, Reyna)

CW : GN!Reader, Death & Killing, Battle anxiety, cussing

Chamber : 

This man has EVERYTHING calculated. Even the risk of you getting hurt! 

You are struggling with a double on your back? No issue. You’re drained of your abilities? No problem, Chamber still has his!

He will always keep an eye on you. One word and he’s got your back. 

He dotes on you after, making sure you’re okay! If you need anything he is more than willing to get it. He knows how it feels to have a shitty mission.

“My love, let’s watch out? We should plan next time for you to have more backup.”

You struggled as the KAYO knife hit you. You knew that if you peeked the corner he would end you. You had no abilities and no place to turn. This mission was a failure.. Or so you thought. Taking a last deep breath, you jumped across the chokehold. The KAYO’s bullet grazed your cheek, drawing blood. The loud noise of a gun shot, KAYO falling to the ground. 

Turning, you met eyes with Chamber. He was further away, set up in his nest. You released the anxious breath you were holding, glad that your boyfriend took notice of the predicament. His suave voice came through the comms.

 “My love, let’s try to avoid that situation. We will plan ahead next time.”

You snorted, expecting such a response.

“No, darling. I just love being on the verge of death! It’s my favorite thing.” Sarcasm dripped off your tongue as you took KAYO’s gun, suiting up for the next battle. You knew Vincent always had your back.. And for that you were grateful.

Sova : 

Sova ALWAYS worries. He will never admit this though!

“My dove, I have your back. They will not take my happiness.” 

One scream and he has a shock dart flying to your location. If you are hurt then the enemy is in for it.

Sova has one hand on you all the way back to base. It calms his heart to know you are still with him.

“Don’t leave me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Please! Help!” You screamed into your comms, hoping one of your allies was near. The enemy Reyna was closing in on you. It was mere seconds before she turned this corner and ended your life. 

“They’re approaching! I can’t defend this myself.” You whispered, coming to terms with the situation. You were not excited for the Sage rez coming in your future.

“Calm down. I am on my way. Stay exactly where you are.” Your boyfriends voice cut through, out of breath from running.

“Sova, I don’t think I have that time-” You started until Reyna peeked the corner. You began shooting and then it hit. A dart falling from the sky landed on her body, ending the battle. There was no way he was that good of a shot.. Right?

“Holy shit, Sova. You did it.” You shook out, running to another corner. Sova’s figure appeared and gave you a light kiss before getting back to work.

“They will not take my star. You bring me so much light. Let’s keep the momentum going.”

Fade : 

If you are in trouble.. The enemies are screwed.

She will release any and all her nightmares in attempts to get you back.

Once you are safe she will just hold you. She already has dreams about losing you.. Best not to make them a reality!

The rest of the day she is angry. Not at you though! Just at others who think they could EVER put a hand on what’s hers.

“Let’s get you home. I’m not looking to rack up anymore deaths for the day.”

You struggled, body tired from running. The whole team was on your ass and your comms were broken. There was no easy way around this. You kept screaming as you made your way through site, praying that someone would come to the rescue. 

“Please! Fade, Sage? Where are you?!” Your yells fell on deaft ears, body turning to shoot at Raze. There was no time to wait for your allies. You sprayed down the halls and got behind cover. 

The ground began to change tones, and a voice echoed across the building.

“Nightmare, take them!” 

Your eyes widened. Fade heard your calls! You jumped into action, taking advantage of your deafened enemies. You shot them down with ease and finally relaxed. Thank god for Fade.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes. Let’s get you home, yeah?” Hazal’s arms wrapped around your torso, pulling you in for a hug. You could only hum in response, glad for that to be over.

Reyna : 

PLEASE.

We all know Reyna will lose control if you need help. Her baby is in danger? No worries, she will take every soul in the room.

She activates empress and zooms through the enemies. All you can hear is cackling and the sound of bodies hitting the floor.

Before you know it you’re being carried. Reyna threw you over her shoulder and she’s mumbling insults in Spanish.

Once you two are on the way home she will clean up your wounds! Either she will bandage you up and give you small kisses or get Sage to heal you. She’s also very demanding on you not moving a muscle. You were so hurt! 

“If they think they will get past me.. Ahaha. The queen will never die.”

“Fucks sake. Get off me!” You screeched, pushing another corpse off you. They seemed to endlessly push you. It was more than tiring and somehow your team was still dealing with ONE enemy on another site.

“Guys, really?I need back up. I have four on me and you can’t kill Neon?” You groaned, more shots firing at your location. You shot back, throwing your last utility in hopes of slowing them down. You had taken a bullet to the leg, the battle looking not too hot.

“How dare they! Don’t worry dear, I’ve arrived.” Reyna’s voice spoke up as she ascended from the tower. She looked you over and shook her head, empress activating. Her warm hand patted your cheek, lips leaving a light kiss.

“Leave this to me. They have no chance against the Queen.”

You could only watch in horror as your girlfriend went in, ending the battle swiftly. You had to agree - they really didn’t stand a chance.

[hisfluer]

Hi!!!! I hope you don’t mind answering and if you need more context, I can give it but any tips for worshipping Lucifer?

hello hello! oh, i love to answer questions! i don't get to talk about him a lot so i really had a lot to say, haha! this got so long. tl;dr at the bottom!

i can give you what i have and if you need more direction or have more questions, let me know! my dms are open!

let me start off by saying that my specific approach to lucifer is specific to me. the way i view him might be different from the way that you see him. keep an open mind! he might appear to you in a way you were not expecting and it might take away to understand.

the way i worship is through action and prayer. and i know these things work because when i don't do them, i feel myself falling apart. it is incredibly important for me to make time to pray, make time for action, make time and space for him to visit with me.

prayer, i think, is pretty self-explanatory. if you'd like me to go into it with more specifics, i can.

i think the number one tip i can give you is to ... learn who he is to you. what is drawing you to him? rebellion? or perhaps knowledge. is it as a breaker of chains or as someone who is fallen? freedom? enlightenment? i think it's important to know this, know why you're seeking in order to find the answers. ( i highly suggest journaling this out, it might help bring a sharper insight to where you are and why you're seeking. )

& sit with him. invite him in with a single candle ( or approximate ) and linger in that space with him. when he comes to your mind, what do you think about? what's the image you see? do you have something like that that you can bring to the next session? for me, it was apples. when i thought about lucifer, i thought about apples. when i decided to approach him, i brought an apple.

one of the first things he told me in my asking to know more about him was to ask him. if the answers that he gave me did not suffice, i could go looking for more but i was to draw my conclusions from him first. with eros or hermes, i had a basic knowledge of their myths that allowed me to seek them out for specific things but i didn't have that with lucifer. i knew the basics about the morning star, the pride of the fall, and that he was the father of lies. there was nothing about him as a figure of worship, only as a figure to be reviled.

so, he was asking me to see him as he came to me without the stories of everyone else. if i didn't like the answers, i was free to look for them but i never did. ( well, i did but purely out of curiosity to see what others were saying. i didn't look until i knew what i believed and what i didn't and i wasn't going to be swayed by what i learned. and i discovered some things that i didn't agree with and some that verified my interactions. )

lucifer, to me, appears as a figure of knowing. in my understanding of him, i combine his mythos together as an ancient figure from rome with the father of lies and the christian canon that was put on him. this is because i resonate very strongly with him being cast down. he's the only remnant of that faith that i keep but i don't fully associate him with it. he isn't purely a christian figure, he was made to play a role. and to me, it's in the breaking of these roles, these chains, these assumptions and knowing himself is where i find my strength.

i went through most of my life thinking i was stupid. i never made good grades, i always felt i couldn't contribute to the conversations, book intelligence was valued over everything growing up and i always felt like i could never be 'smart'. but i love to learn, i love to read, i love to know about the secret ways of the world. i love to hear the secrets, i love to find them and lucifer helped encourage me to do that without taking on the stories of others.

knowledge, awareness, knowing the ways people both use you and help you, these are the things i go to him for. he is the knowing of ones strength and the knowing of how to better oneself to use it. it's seeing through the stories and revealing the truth of it. as the morning star, he brings forth the light despite the darkness. as a figure of hate, he is also a figure of love. he is the one that i seek when i feel lost. he is the star to guide me forward — but not in that he solves my problems but that he tells me to look for the solutions and if i can't find any, how do i open my eyes more in order to see them. he guides me towards knowing, towards fulfillment, towards bettering myself so that no one can put a story on me that i don't agree with.

through action, which in this case is through learning, i am able to show him my worship. i am able to show him that i am taking him and his lessons and his guidance to heart and that is how i worship him.

beyond that, set a small place for him with a candle and linger there. you're not summoning him, you're not asking him to be there, you're just showing him that you are there. i do that by action but it might be that you should journal and that is what draws you closer to him. it might be music, snails, the holy figure of the rabbit, trees, or it might be through something else entirely. it is your experience and your unique perspective is what he is drawn to and it will be that through which he will speak to you.

an apple to me is different from an apple to you. it might not mean the same thing or have similar connotations. why would he use an apple to you if they have no significance in your life? it might be the peach or the pomegranate that inspires him to you.

my tips aren't a list because worship and relationships with the spirit and divine are so incredibly personal. listen to what the god is saying to you and, if it agrees with your spirit, follow through. if it feels like you must pray, pray. if it feels like you should light a candle for a week, do that. if it feels like you should read or take a class, do so. it doesn't have to be elaborate. your worship can be as simple as getting sweaty outside in the garden or as complex as a ceremonial ritual of devotion! it is so personal and not something i can really direct you in. it might be as simple as "i'm brushing my teeth for you, dark lord!" and if that satisfies your spirit, that's all you need to do.

if you want to talk about it more or if you have more question, feel free to dm me!

TL;DR: my tip is to get personal with him and he'll direct you the way you should go to follow his path.