#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

[trulyumai]

to love an emperor

—: pairing - caracalla / wife! reader

—: synopsis - Caracalla the disastrous, caracalla the mighty. thousands would cower down and pray in fear of such a man, but you? you offered love and kisses upon the head.

—: warnings - none. pure fluff for the soul.

—: an - is it a little off character? oh yeah. but the man needs more soft love and I am here to provide.

not everyday was caracalla affectionate. he was moody sometimes— angry at you even when someone else had provoked him.

but tonight?

tonight he couldn’t stop adoring you; you had no idea what had gotten into him. caracalla was never this affectionate, at least without jealousy or a beverage involved.

“do you love me?” the man mumbled, it was muffled against your skin. his breath was warm and sticking to you without delay. “of course,” you hummed, slipping fingers into the crown of his head, gently guiding your fingers through the soft and messy locks.

instantly Caracalla folded, the candlelight bounced of his face and illuminated each shadow and crevice with purpose. he was handsome, you certainly couldn’t deny such a fact. his eyes were soft, a light pink and red hue danced around his eyelids as the rest of his skin lay pale and untouched.

his lips were a little chapped, proof of him picking and biting them after todays timeline

“—you?”

Perking up, your mind cleared. You hadn’t even realized you spaced out until the jumbles of his words came to.

“I’m sorry, my love, what was that?”

the man beside you shuddered at such an endearment. He felt so warm, so comfortable in your presence.

“I said, do you know I love you?” Letting out a quiet snicker, a nod was given. “of course, I see it in your eyes, husband.”

Caracalla frowned, confusion blotted his features. “My… eyes?”

Soft fingers glided against his cheek, to which he leaned into trustingly. A thumb traced the underside of his eye, gently tracing random shapes and letters unconsciously.

“Mmh, you look at me the way Dondus looks at his snacks, my love.”

He couldn’t help but let out a bubble of laughter. wrinkles began to form around his eyes from such a joyous action, however his vision never faltered from admiring your blushing face. “I’m serious! You— you do!”

“Angel, what an odd way of phrasing such a thing!” Joining him in the barrage of giggles, you slumped onto him, digging your chin into the crevice of his neck.

“You’re not much of a poet, even I could have thought of better,”

You gasped, with hands now holding you upright on his chest a mischievous glint was caught in Caracallas eyes. “You jest, husband, surely. I’m more of a poet than you could ever be!”

“Oh?” The emperor challenged. Already taking advantage of this new position, both arms wrapped around your waist, prohibiting you from moving even an inch away.

“Mhm! Don’t you remember the last full moon? The festivities— the worshipping I gave—,”

A big, warm hand stopped you from going further, covering the entirety of your mouth and a giggle burst against the skin.

“I am more than aware of such a night, quiet it down before someone hears you.”

Although the walls were thick, and no one would ever think of disturbing such high power; there was celebration below, citizens from far and near joined in tonight’s merriment and Caracalla didn’t need anyone hearing of such a frivolous act between the two of you.

Feeling particularly bold, a light nibble was given to the man. Startled by such a sharp pain, the hand was removed and you were (temporarily), free to do as you pleased. Not sparing even a moment, your lips brushed against Caracallas ear with mischievous purpose. “Don’t you want them to know im yours? Have me scream your name in pleasure—“

“Careful,” The ginger seethed, already shuffling uncomfortably under you. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, wife.”

“And who said I couldn’t finish, husband?” Suddenly, a grip was bestowed onto the back of your neck, pushing you forward until your soft lips collided with rougher ones.

Submitting into him, you allowed the pushing and shoving of his tongue, the way his hands pulled at your robes and squeezed each open crevice of skin they could find.

Caracalla quickly pulled back, a string of saliva followed suit and a dazed— hungry look was swimming in his vision.

“Angel?”

Your hands shakily moved across his form, undoing and untying his garments haphazardly.

A wet hum left you, you were so busy with the action you failed to notice his eyes upon you.

And how in love the man looked, felt while beside your side.

His eyes, half lidded and flooded with affection never faltered.

The way you looked in the moonlight, how the silk you were wearing was slowly dragging down your shoulders messily.

Your braids were undone, pulled in every which way from Caracallas hands—and your face?

Gods, there was a reason he called you angel.

No one looked as beautiful as you, and he doubted such a being ever would.

“I love you,” finally the words left him— shoved their way out like spilled wine upon cobblestone.

You smiled, big and wide.

“and I you, my love.”

[thelov3lybookworm]

Reputation to uphold

Day 5: No need for poetry.

Summary: Hiding the letters is his first priorities.

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 1368

Warnings: fluff, azzie being a shy baby 🥹

A/n: i loved writing this hehehe (i wrote most of this in 40 mins 💀)

@azrielappreciationweek

ANYWAY ENJOYYYY 🥳

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

"I missed this, mama." Hazel sighed, pulling away her cup of hot chocolate. Azriel smiled, looking over at his daughter, sitting next to his now son in law, Kaden.

What did I say? He was going to take away my daughter.

Y/n raised her brows. "It’s barely been a week since you’ve last had it."

Hazel grimaced. "Yeah, and his hot chocolate does not compare."

"Hey that’s mean!" Kaden sputtered, choking on his own drink.

"Yeah, stop being mean to my son."

Hazel rolled her eyes, turning to her father.

"Dad, come on, tell me a story." She had always been fond of listening to stories, and Az, wanting to make his daughter happy, had begun the new habit of telling stories every night.

Azriel glanced at his wife as she settled in next to him, warmth spreading in his chest. No matter how long they’d been married for, even just the sight of Y/n filled Azriel with happiness. Just as it had back when he had first seen her in the market, giggling with her friends over something.

"What do you want to hear about?"

Hazel leaned back, contemplating before perking up. "How you met mom and got married."

Azriel’s cheeks warmed, and he prayed his wife did not notice.

"Look dad, you’ve always said I was too young to know, but now I am even married. I want to know."

Azriel sighed, looking to his wife for help.

"Yeah Az, I wanna know the story too." Y/n grinned, not meeting his eyes.

Knowing he would not be allowed to leave without reliving his most embarrassing moments, he got comfortable in his chair.

"I saw her in the market one day. She was with her friends, and I instantly knew I was going to marry her one day."

She had been so ethereal, and she was in just a simple flowy dress. Her hair had been pinned out of her face, the breeze softly playing with the strands the way Azriel wished he could. Her smile, it could have brought him to his knees. And her sparkling eyes spoke of kindness far more louder than actions, the love and compassion for her fellow fae shining through every blink.

"Did you ever write her love letters and poetry?"

Azriel scoffed, focusing on the dark dregs at the bottom of his cup. "Me? I don’t have to resort to poetry."

Azriel felt his wife’s gaze on him, and he could picture her perfectly, sitting there, eyebrows raised in a are you sure about that? gesture.

"Yeah, he just ended up drowning in the river trying to impress me."

Azriel turned to glare at Y/n accusingly, who simply shrugged. "Now Az, lying is bad. Someone has to tell the truth."

Azriel grumbled, then again began. This time, truthfully. "Feyre needed some paint supplies from the market, and because I was free, I offered to get them for her."

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Azriel never thought he would ever ask someone for a romantic day out. After all, he never had to do that. He would just give females a glance and they would ask him to spend time with them themselves.

But this time, it was not happening. The female in the market square barely spared him a glance when he sidled up to her, pretending to look at all the brightly coloured pots on display at the stand she was giggling with her friends over.

"Y/n, that pot would look so good with your couch!"

Y/n. That name would certainly look good with Azriel’s name next to it.

"Yes Cindy, I’m going to cook on my couch."

Azriel smiled down at the pot in his hands, biting his cheek.

"It certainly is beautiful though." He mumbled, voice low so only Y/n could hear as her two other friends started bickering. He felt her stiffen before she glanced at him.

"That it is. But I don’t think I’m in need of more things."

Azriel swallowed, nodding. "You live near?"

Finally, he gathered the courage to meet her narrowed eyes. "Why do you ask?"

He smiled with a confidence he did not feel. "Where will I pick you up from for our dinner tomorrow then if you don’t tell me?"

She reared back as if his words had a physical impact on him.

"I- I’m sorry, I’m not interested."

Azriel blinked. But before he could say anything, she had grabbed her friends’ hands and dragged them away.

But from the slight blush on her face, he knew that he only needed to try and she would agree.

He bought the pot she had been eyeing so longingly just moments before, then hurried to go get the paints Feyre had asked for.

He was so sure he wouldn’t have to resort to poetry.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

The next day, Azriel was back at the market square, trying to figure out which direction she had gone. He had probably been wandering around aimlessly when he spotted the beautiful head of the lady he was so enthralled by.

"Hey. Pleasant day." He said as he fell in step beside the unsuspecting female.

She jumped, wide, frantic eyes meeting his own. Exasperation spread through her features as she realised it was him.

"You- what are you doing here?"

He shrugged, grinning as he held his gloved hand out. "I’m Azriel."

Her brows furrowed. She probably thought Azriel was loose in the head. "Y/n."

"Beautiful name for a beautiful lady."

She sighed. "Look, I’ve already told you I’m not interested."

"Why not?"

She paused. "I don’t like males who think they’re entitled to my time."

He nodded sagely. "Me neither. I hate people like that. But look at this like this, I want to get to know you. Maybe this could be something-"

She sighed. "No. Sorry."

Azriel’s palms turned sweaty. He had found her again, he did not want to let her go without getting something out of this. Even one evening of talking was enough. "I- I am the high lord’s shadowsinger."

Her gaze hardened. "Are you threatening me?"

His eyes widened. "No! I could never! I’m just trying…"

"Trying what?"

"To make you interested in me. It has worked before."

She rolled her eyes. "I don’t like males who try to entice me by stating their high powers."

Panic seized Azriel. This was going very wrong very quickly, and he did not like it one bit.

"I did not mean it that way-"

"Really, sir, I do not care what you meant and what you didn’t. Just leave me alone."

Azriel was left gaping after her, breathing heavy.

Fuck.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Azriel balled up another paper, throwing it behind him before clutching his head.

He had decided that being arrogant and trying to keep up his records of never having to resort to poetry would not help him.

Your eyes like the sun,Shining so beautiful,Your hair like waterfall,You-

Was Azriel truly so bad at poetry?

He was doomed.

She wouldn’t give him the time of day, evident by her refusal to even acknowledge him the three times he had tried to interact with her after that day at the market, and he was losing hope. He had sent countless letters and poems already to her house through his shadows, and he still had received no response.

Maybe he was well and truly doomed.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

"You know, I still have all those letters and poems."

Azriel’s head whipped to look at his wife, eyes wide. "Why?"

She shrugged, getting up from the couch and taking the cup from Hazel and kaden, both who grinned unabashedly.

"You think I would burn or throw away letters of desperation sent by the spymaster?" Y/n snorted. "Let me get them for you, children."

"No!" Azriel semi-yelled, shooting to his feet before dashing into their bedroom, hoping to stop her before she even tried to reveal all his secrets.

Loud laughter followed the frantic spymaster, but he did not care. All he cared about was finding those letters and burning them, or maybe atleast hiding them away so his wife couldn’t tease him about it.

He had a reputation to uphold, after all.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

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@okaytrashpanda

[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.

[reccyls]

Victor's Main Route: Chapter 20

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He had guided me to the church at the center of our memories. And just like the day we first met, he sat down beside me. But unlike that day, we were both grown up, and I was no longer crying. And as if to prevent us from ever parting again, I clutched his hands tightly. I turned my body to face him, and waited for him to speak while looking into his eyes. After a short silence, he opened his mouth.

Victor: When we first met, I had just ascended to the throne as the queen. Victor: Hiding my gender and ruling as queen had been more flight of fancy than a well-thought out plan. Victor: But after learning that I was cursed, and that I was doomed by my fate, I chose that option. Victor: Choosing to rule as a woman was a more difficult road than ruling as a man, but gender didn’t matter to me. Victor: Perhaps I just wanted to prove that I could fight against the odds, and take control of my destiny. Victor: But although I had made that decision, my heart still had doubts. Victor: I did not want to discard my life as ‘Victor’. Victor: I questioned what I should do, what the best course of action was. Victor: My head knew the answer, but my heart hadn’t yet come to terms with it. Victor: As my anxiety and internal conflict grew, one day, I snuck out of the palace and visited a church. Victor: And there, I met you. Victor: That first day, I saw that you were praying while in tears, and I worried about you. Victor: One of the citizens that I must protect was crying, and such a young child, too. Victor: I called out to you to try and get you to stop crying somehow, but you only ended up crying even more.

Kate: …It was your kindness and how you listened to me talk that made me keep crying. Kate: The more I remembered my cat, the sadder I became and the more I cried.

Victor: I was in quite a panic. I’d never dealt with a crying child before. Victor: …And after the music from my music box calmed you down, you listened to my troubles, and said this: Victor: “I think it’s okay if you let someone help you with your problem. And if no one can help, then I will.” Victor: Your words held no ulterior motive. Just pure-hearted innocence. Victor: I think that all my life, I’d been waiting for someone to tell me exactly that. Victor: I could do nothing but fight on alone, hiding my identity, bearing the burden of my curse, without anyone to rely on. Victor: So your words were the last push I needed. Victor: I would leave ‘Victor’ behind, live as the queen, and die.

My words at the time were a healing balm for Victor’s doubts and worries. But at the same time, they were the catalyst for Victor abandoning his life as a person. I was left speechless.

(I was the one who pushed him into giving up his chance to be happy.)

They had been the careless words of a child that he’d only met once. I felt my heart squeeze painfully, realizing that I had caused my beloved so much heartache.

I’m sorry.

If I hadn’t said that…

I’m glad my words could help you, but… (+2/+4)

Kate: I’m glad my words could help you, but…

Victor: Don’t make that face. You saved me, and that is fact.

Victor: Because of what you said, I could muster the strength to face forward and keep going.

His hand stroked my cheek gently, and I lifted my gaze to look at him. He let out a soft laugh when he saw my sorrowful expression.

Victor: A monarch is a being akin to a bird with clipped wings. No matter the price they must pay, the country’s prosperity is their only aim. Victor: Though I knew that would be the case, I remained conflicted, unable or unwilling to fully give myself up. Victor: That’s why I’m so very glad that you gave me the strength to push forward. To create a world where you could smile, and freely take to the skies. Victor: That was enough for me.

The pad of his thumb brushed the skin beneath my eye, and I subconsciously shut them. At the same time, Victor’s fingers stopped moving.

Victor: At least, until we next met. Victor: Shortly after that first meeting, I had gotten used to my duties, and was able to carve out some personal time for myself. Victor: I would walk the streets of London, see with my own eyes the peaceful lives of the people and the smiles that brightened their faces. Victor: When remnants of my irrationality still tugged at my heart, I would go back to that church. Victor: Every time I visited I would look for you, but never saw you. It disappointed and relieved me in equal amounts. Victor: If you had come back to that church, perhaps it would be because you had reason to cry again. Victor: And life continued just like that, until a few years ago. Victor: And I found you again, a second time. Victor: We had apprehended the masterminds of the bombing incidents by then. Victor: But those that remained of that organization were still defiant, and continued to target crowded locations in order to strike at the queen. Victor: I didn’t think the church would be a target, given their modus operandi up until that point. Victor: But just in case, William and I paid a visit to the church. Victor: I saw you playing with the children that day, and I instantly recognized that you were the girl who saved me. Victor: I wanted to tell you to leave immediately as there was a chance you would be in danger. However… Victor: At that exact moment, the world exploded and went dark. Victor: When I next opened my eyes, it was as though I were witnessing a scene right out of hell. Victor: I heard gunshots, and then saw the members of that organization appear. But I couldn’t fight back. Victor: Because I saw you, shielding a child with your body, unable to move.

Kate: !

Victor: At that moment, I couldn’t think of anything else, except for that if you lived and everyone else here died… Victor: That would be enough.

Kate: Victor…

Victor: To save your life, I pulled you out of the church. Victor: I only noticed that the cylinder of my music box fell out and was destroyed after everything was already over.

Kate: Back then, you went back after rescuing me.

Victor: To sentence the criminals. Victor: As queen, I made the choice to condemn evil for the sake of the country. Victor: If I had just been ‘Victor’, I would have taken your hand and fled to the ends of the earth until you were safe. Victor: But I couldn’t do that. I was the country’s ruler.

The way his laugh sounded so self-mocking hurt my heart.

Victor: Ever since then, I wanted to know how you were doing. So I watched you secretly.

Kate: …You what!?

I shouted in surprise, while he just smiled wryly.

Victor: It wasn’t for any nefarious purpose… I was just worried, about whether you were still suffering because of your memories of that day.

His gaze dropped, and strength entered his hand that was placed against my cheek.

Victor: And just as I feared, I discovered that you were traumatized by those events, and feared loud explosion-like sounds.

Victor: You’ll be okay. I’m here.

(So that’s why he knew to cover my ears back then.)

He knew everything, so that was how he was able to help me.

Victor: I couldn’t help but worry, and so it became part of my routine to watch over you from afar. Victor: If you want to call me a stalker, I can’t blame you.

Kate: But because of that, you stopped me from panicking during the recent explosion. Kate: Thank you so much.

(The memory still frightens me a little even now, but…) (Because Victor protected me, I’m okay.)

Victor: The third time I saw you, you were paying for a necklace that a child had stolen.

Kate: Huh…?

Man: You better compensate me for what she stole! You can pay, right!? Kate: Yes, sir, I’ll pay! While I was on a delivery, I came across a man yelling at a girl. When I stepped in to try and resolve the situation, the girl kicked the man and fled. And then I paid back the man for the necklace that the girl had stolen.

And a few hours after that, my life changed forever.

(He saw that…?)

I looked away in embarrassment, but he continued to speak.

Victor: You ran into Will before that, didn’t you?

Kate: Yes, he picked up a letter I had dropped.

Kate: Excuse me, that’s one of my deliveries. ???: … ???: Here you go, miss. Kate: Th-thank you. ???: You’re very welcome.

Only a month had passed since then, but it already felt like an eternity ago.

Victor: After that, Will told me that he met “a little robin with a delightful singing voice.” Victor: It’s rare for people to catch his interest like that, so I couldn’t help but wonder…

Victor: Whether it was you he had met.

As my eyes widened in surprise, he continued.

Victor: So after I returned to the castle, I told him this: Victor: “If you ever see that robin again, I want to meet them.”

Kate: …So… you…

The threads that led to our third meeting were winding together.

Victor: While I was waiting in the castle as Crown set off on their mission that night, I couldn’t stop thinking. Victor: If you appeared before Will once more and thus made your way to me again… Victor: That could surely only be fate at work.

My lips trembled.

Victor: …I have always been watching you. Victor: It was I who ensured we would meet again a third time, Kate.

(We met each other three times.)

The first time had been pure chance. The second time was more than simply a coincidence, but still up to luck. But from the moment I witnessed that night’s condemnation, our third meeting had been inevitable.

(What else could this be but fate?)

Rescuing and being rescued, the robin had unknowingly flown to the castle-bound reaper’s side. Perhaps this connection only existed through a string of coincidences. But I think that everything that unfolded after that first day had been meant to happen. As he wiped away the tears that began to drip down my face, I hugged him tightly. My voice was hoarse when I spoke.

Kate: It is fate. Kate: It’s fate that we met the first day, that you saved me during the explosion, that we’re here now. Kate: That I fell in love with you again. All of it… every last bit…

Victor: …

His arms wrapped around me and pulled me in towards him. My tears fell onto his jacket as he held me. To my eyes, the night was beautiful, mesmerizing.

Kate: If this can’t be called fate, then nothing can.

I love you, I love you, I love you so much my heart might burst. My feelings were so intense that they were impossible to put into words. I was light-headed from their intensity. Because he had arranged our third meeting, our fates were bound together. I couldn’t stop my tears of happiness. Victor’s body was trembling too, not because he was crying, But because he was overcome with the same emotions that I was.

…

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed. The crescent moon that had peeked in through the shattered stained glass windows was no longer visible, and only stars glimmered in the sky. When I could hold back my tears, I raised my head. Victor gently brushed the reddened corners of my eyes.

Victor: …Queen Victoria is currently targeted by those who wish for the country to become a republic. Victor: I have no issue with abdicating if it would make the country a better place. Victor: But they resort to harming the innocent to accomplish their goals. I cannot allow them to continue. Victor: However, this is not a problem I can solve alone.

He suddenly smiled, taking my face in his hands.

Victor: Kate, I need you.

Kate: Huh?

The words I said to him long ago returned to me. Those words that caused him to give up on his life as a person, but also brought him solace. They transcended time and now found their way to this moment. With no one else to rely on, he looked slightly nervous as he asked:

Victor: Will you help me?

Those words struck me right in the heart. I wiped away the last of my tears. And mustering my best smile, there was no other answer I could give him aside from…

Kate: Yes!

[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.

[sramoonlight]

Heartbreak

What if Tim loves someone so much?

Content you’ll see here: mentions of drug, use of cigarettes, thoughts of dead, suicide , family issues, angst

English it’s not my first language so please be patient!

Tim loves one of his friends who doesn’t have any powers, it’s not just admiration of knowing someone who fights because he wants to

But because he’s the most precious person in his eyes, the only thing he doesn’t like is his addictions, at first it was funny to see him acting all dumb but now it’s just sad

It breaks his heart, every time a fight ends Tim has to run to his apartment to stop him from getting something serious inside of his body

You always fight back, even if a few hours later you thank him

And he knows he’ll do it every single time you need it

What about if he doesn’t tell you how much he loves you? Even if he did, you won’t have the heart to reject his feeling and he won’t stop coming back to see you.

So he came back to his old routine, he gets inside of the dirty apartment but instead of seeing a mess on the kitchen

Everything is so clean, so clean it made him wonder what was wrong with you

Maybe you tried a new drug who gave you the energy to clean, and it scares him, this kind of drugs only make him pray for you to not do anything wrong

And there you are, sitting on the couch with a cigarette in your hand

He had to take a big sniff to know what it was, a simply one

Weird.

He sits down next to you, you take a big hit before leaning your head on his shoulder

You two are in completely silent

— Do you believe in heaven, Tim? — you finally spoke, and that only made Tim feel happy to know you can do it

He thinks about your question, usually your high ones always get him on the philosophical side he never thought he had

— I don’t know, why? — he looked at you, you turned to see him through your lashes

A lazy smile on you

— I want to go to hell, I think my mother went there — he had known your bad relation with your mother since the day he met you

He was there when she died, and still he can’t think is best for you to see her on the after life

— You’ve done so many good actions, there’s no way you’ll go to hell — his words made you hummed

Taking a hit you moved your hand to wrapped around Tim’s he jumped in his place feeling the blood going to his cheeks

He looked at you, you reached to trap his lips against yours

He froze, only for a second before he cupped your cheek answering the kiss with the same intensity that he always wanted to give you

Bitter..

Without even noticing, his training skills kicked in and his mind started to yell at him

Opioids and a little taste of alcohol

He pulled away, his hands holding your shoulders as you looked at him with a lazy smile

— Tell me you didn’t — a whisper only you and him noticed, for his own pain you didn’t answered

Instead you wrapped your arms around his neck pulling yourself close to his body, a soft sigh leaving your body

— I envy your big brain — you chuckled

His eyes looked at you, he doesn’t believe it or maybe he does it so much so he tries to fool his brain to not believe it

And he doesn’t do anything else, he just hugs you keeping you close to his body

It’s nothing he could do, even if he wants to, he doesn’t know how much time you have left and if it isn’t more than a few minutes

He wants them for himself, it’s selfish but he won’t give them to some unknown doctor

And he doesn’t want to fight your wishes, not when you hide so painfully on his arms

— I don’t think I ever told you, Tim.. but you have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen — your words are soft, so sweet he had to bite his inner cheek to muffle a sob

He can feel your little heartbeat on his hands when if he’s only touching you back, it scares him

— You have told me before.. — he whispers, not wanting to say those words

You smiled, he can feel your smile even if he tries to close his eyes

— I’ve always dreamed of retirement, and getting married.. would you imagine me waiting for you in a small but cozy house? —

Maybe it’s the way your mind wanders through past memories, because the way those words made his heart stop for a second isn’t normal

— Don’t close your eyes, let’s keep talking a little more — He tried to wake you up only to receive a hum as an answer

He can’t think of anything to tell you about, he knows it’s pointless but he can’t

— If we get marry, I’ll give you the best wedding ever, everyone will be talking about it for years —

He chuckled, trying to push his emotions aside

You didn’t laughed back, and his heart is breaking

— Im sorry for doing this to you.. I was just too scared to do it alone — you mumbled, your words doesn’t even make sense but he can still understand them

He wishes he didn’t, how his heart prays for him to don’t understand

— It’s okay, you won’t ever be alone — he doesn’t try to be funny anymore

His fingers brush your hair as a way to keep himself entertained, to stop his mind to told him what he could’ve do

There was nothing he could’ve done, still it hurts to think about it

— I’m so happy, you were my world Tim.. I loved being your friend and being a hero on your side, I won’t ever regret meeting you —

His arms clenched around your body, his face is wet with tears but does it matter? He just want to give you some of his warmth

You’re getting so cold, you hate being cold

— I would choose being your friend every life, I love you Tim, I’ll always love you —

God he hates it, he hates how a knot settles on his throat, he hates how he can’t tell you how much he loves you

You need to hear it, to know he loved you with the same intensity you do

And he can’t feel your breath against his skin anymore

If his heart wasn’t broke yet, it truly shattered all the pieces who were left.

When I was finishing this I thought “damn, this is so Jason code” but then I realized, my man wouldn’t let you die, he would get his fingers in your throat to make you puke all the bad shit

[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.

[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?

[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

[starlightshadowsworld]

Concept: Kunikida did not want to join the Agency to begin with.

Because he had long since squandered whatever dreams he had to change the world.

Or at least that’s what he tells himself.

He’s a maths teacher, he’s in stable employment and he’s made his loved ones proud and is doing a job that fulfils him.

Or at least that’s what he tells himself.

I love the idea that Kunikida despite wanting to break the mold, being an outspoken and passionate person.

He instead learned how to silence himself in many ways. To conform to the what the world expected of him.

Because to stand out is to be alone and he never truly thought he could stand on his own to face the rejections and hatred of the world.

In a world full of monsters, Kunikida wears a mask and prays no one looks too close to see he’s not one of them.

Does he absolutely still fight for that ideal world? Yeah but in a way that’s more socially acceptable.

The real Doppo Kunikida quit college I believe to take care of his family and I can absolutely see that being a reason as to why Kunikida the character is a college drop out.

That he had all these dreams and aspirations and put them on hold to take care of the people he holds dear.

It fits him so well.

But of course Kunikida can’t pretend to be something he’s not forever. Maybe he witnesses something and he leaps into action without thinking.

Maybe he loses someone and it always plays on him that he could’ve done something.

And that’s something the Agency, in particular I think Ranpo notices in him. He sees everything Kunikida is and everything he could become.

Everything Kunikida has given up trying to be.

And he rejects the offer over and over again to join because he can’t. He has people to think of, he has lives that depend on him and he can’t give that up just to live his life the way he wants too.

He can’t do it.

He’s not worth this.

And what comes if that declaration is a deal, in the form of an entrance exam. If you don’t think you deserve this and can’t do it, then why not let us decide that for ourselves?

To no one’s surprise but his own he passes with flying colours.

And maybe that’s what gives him the push to finally live by his own ideals rather than simply writing them down.

The world will still turn but now he’ll be happy.

[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

[thewritetofreespeech]

Can I request Romantic Love Confession for Zevlor please?

Types of Love Confessions - Romantic

Personally, you had never been called to a mission of faith before, but if you believed in anything it was helping people.

The city rebuilds, but there is still so much loss. Those pushed from their homes before the Brain, and then those suddenly without as it towered over the city grows in mass. It’s an odd sort of equality to the experience: those who had everything and lost it, and those with nothing lending out their hand. It was almost poetic.

You do what you can to help. Handing out goods collected from those who still had supplies to spare. Ladling soup and passing bread. Lending aid and comfort to those that just needed a shoulder to lean on.

It was hard work but fulfilling. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so proud of yourself. And you know Zevlor was regaining some of his pride too. The Hellriders found a new purpose in protecting those that could not protect themselves. No longer fighting the monsters of hell, but those beast in men that let them pray on the weak. Never again, Zevlor told you once.

As the day came to a close, you stretch your arms over your head and prepare to head home. Brother Donnick said he would clean up and see you tomorrow for breakfast. The walk home is a short one, as the small cottage you share with Zevlor is just a few paces from the kitchen. With the Circus gone and need for homes increased, the Temple had turned the plot of land next to them into a space for temporary homes; more stable than tents but not nearly as permanent as stone walls. Zevlor said he would stay here, to keep it safe and continue to provide support. You decided to join him, despite his insistence that you deserved better and an old solider like him would be fine on his own.

Coming through the door, you were surprised to see Zevlor already there, and clearly in the middle of a flurry of activity around the home. “Ah, you’re early.” He doesn’t seem surprised, though a little caught off guard, by your presence. Still, he is all smiles to see you. “Come. Sit down. I have made dinner for the two of us.”

You smile and ask him what the occasion is, and he tells you, “no occasion. I just thought today that someone should make you food for once.”

He pulled out your chair and sat you down at the small table. A tiny bouquet of wildflowers on the table. Obviously from the outskirts of the town where the plants were coming back and the Hellriders still manage their patrol. Zevlor returned with two plates and even a bottle of wine. “I cannot speak to the quality, but I thought it would be nice to round out the meal.” He said as he poured two glasses. You clink your cups. No fine china, but the wood mugs don’t seem to spoil the taste.

Taking your first few bites, you compliment Zevlor on his cooking and giving you a night off from the stove. “I know it isn’t much. But I wanted to do something for you, to show you that I love you.” He reached out to take your hand in his. “I know I probably don’t say it as much as you need, but I wanted to remind you that I do. Words are not my strong suit. Actions are. So, I thought all this might make up for my poor showing these past few weeks.”

You tell Zevlor that his words are more than fine, and that he didn’t have to remind you. You already knew how he felt. The tiefling chuckled and held your hand a little tighter. “Your compassion holds no bounds. Even for this old soldier.”

He leaned in to give you a brief kiss and the two of you return to your meal while it was still hot. Tomorrow will be another day of helping others. But for tonight, it was good to take a bit for yourselves.

[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.

[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.”