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onyourowndaisymae · 2 years ago

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presenting the obey me brothers with friendship bracelets

you know that feeling when you have a million other things to write but then one idea cuts to the front of the line and demands to be expelled from your brain? yeah that. that's what this is. i'm making bracelets for the eras tour and this idea came to me

[the dateables version]

[the dateables (+ luke) presenting you with a friendship bracelet]

content warnings: none

prompt: you grin down at your work. in your hands is a small friendship bracelet, lovingly crafted from hard work and the embroidery thread you found in your closet. you weren't quite sure why you'd made it, but the thought of giving a certain someone the bracelet and watching their reaction made you smile. now, to hand it off...

Lucifer

lucifer definitely acts like it's a very childish thing that you've just presented to him. he raises an eyebrow and gives you an amused smirk.

he takes it from you and shoos you out of his office, warning you about all the paperwork he has to keep him busy. you never tied it for him, so you figure he's probably going to toss it in a desk drawer or something for safe keeping. that's okay. you're just happy he accepted the gift in the first place.

the real reason why you got kicked out is so he no longer had to hide the hopelessly fond, adoring look from you in response to your gift. it's simple and childish, yes, but it warms his heart that you made it for him. it's black, white, and red, made in a little stripe pattern. cute.

this little piece of braided string will sit on his desk for the rest of the night, where he can peek over at it when he gets overwhelmed.

you sort of assume the bracelet's been lost to the depths of lucifer's desk or sitting at the bottom of the trashcan. weeks pass before you think of it again.

but you do. you're reminded of your little gift to the morning star when lucifer is reaching out to something mid-conversation at RAD-- an unfamiliar flash of white peeks out from under his dark uniform sleeves. is that... is that the friendship bracelet you made him?

if you try to confront him about it, he will deny everything with that same stoic, slightly irritated look. he won't show you his wrist to prove he's not wearing it, though. softie.

Mammon

this man acts like you're soooo lucky that he's accepting a gift from you. he'll go on and on about how the great mammon usually prefers shiny jewelry, but it you insist--

if you try to take it back and walk off, he's yelling and chasing you down. you can't just take gifts back. that's cheating. hand it over! that white and gold bracelet belongs to him now, and the great mammon isn't going to let someone steal from him that easy.

his cheeks are red as you tie it on his wrist. for all that big talk about how he's doing you a favor by wearing a friendship bracelet for you, he's awfully quiet as he admires it on his wrist.

mammon wears the bracelet everyday. he will sometimes remember to take it off before showers and other stuff that might ruin it, but he also forgets a lot of the time. the bracelet ends up a bit dirty, but not horrible. well-loved, you might say.

if any demon at RAD tries getting a little too friendly with you, he won't hesitate to interrupt your conversation and not-so-subtly remind the other demon that he's the one with the friendship bracelet, not them. he'll pull down his sleeve and shove the bracelet in the demon's face until they get the message and walk away.

mammon will get very offended by you giving out other bracelets, by the way. he's a very jealous demon. you gave him the bracelet because you like him most, right? so why'd you start passing them out like halloween candy, huh? nah, that won't do. the great mammon demands another one to add to his collection. scratch that, make it two more. can't have anyone else think they can compare to your first man.

Leviathan

leviathan initially tries to talk you out of giving him the bracelet. surely you didn't mean to give it to someone like him, right? no, this must be a mistake. you must be thinking of asmo, or mammon, or beel or--

when you point out that you specifically made it for him, he shuts up. you explain the purple and teal colors are meant to match his hair and nails! that way it will always match his outfits, no matter what he wears.

suddenly he's a flurry of movement, wrapping his arms around you and thanking you so so much for being friends with a yucky, gross otaku shut in like him. you're the best henry he could have ever asked for. he's so caught up in the emotions of the moment that he forgets to panic when you first hug him back. a couple of seconds in, his brain reboots, and suddenly he's scuttling out of your personal bubble.

levi's near tears as you tie it on his wrist. don't worry, mc, he'll treasure it forever! this bracelet will remain on his wrist until time stops and hell freezes over. that's how much you mean to him!

you didn't think he actually meant it when he said he'd never take it off. that's why it's adjustable, y'know? but you were wrong. levi wears the bracelet everywhere. home. school. while sleeping. in the shower. while he's cosplaying. wherever he goes, you're certain that bracelet will be with him.

... but it's made of string, and very quickly gets nasty. he doesn't seem to notice, but you definitely do. you ultimately make him a replacement so that you won't have to keep looking at the damp, dingy thing on his wrist. he's just as touched as he was the first time. levi won't throw the original away, though. you compromise and let him keep it on one of his display shelves (even it it's still a bit gross).

Satan

when you present him with the green and teal friendship bracelet, he laughs. that's actually really sweet, mc. he's read stuff like this happening in those books with childhood friends growing up together, where the bracelet symbolizes an unbreakable bond carried into adulthood. it's cute. he's glad you thought of him.

as you tie the bracelet to his wrist and teach him how to take it on and off, he'll inquire about why you made it. have you ever given anyone else a friendship bracelet, or is he your first? how did you make it, anyways? would you be willing to show him?

the afternoon is lost to laughter and tales from both of your childhoods. satan's was a long, long time ago, but he's got six older brothers (by birth order, not fall order) that have told him stories of his youth through the years. would you be surprised to learn that he was a little hellion? no? well, he has no idea why you'd ever get the idea that he's anything but kind and calm and not at all the avatar of wrath. shame on you, mc. (his teasing would be a little bit more convincing if he didn't have that smile on his face-- the one he always has when he's with you.)

satan treats your friendship bracelet with care. he makes sure to take it off any time he does an activity that might get it dirty or otherwise soil it. he'll take it off for showers and slip it right back on afterwards, or keep it on his nightstand so he can put it back on when he returns from a formal event. satan also doesn't sleep with it on because he worries his tossing and turning might wear it down. sometimes he'll even use it as a bookmark when he's not wearing it.

he is very protective of this bundle of knots and strings. mammon once snatched a book from his room-- the book he just so happened to be reading, where he was using the bracelet as a bookmark before he went to bed-- and took the bracelet with it. you were able to step in just in time before satan lost his cool and went on a rampage. everyone knew from then on to leave that damn bracelet alone.

Asmodeus

asmodeus is delighted that you'd make something for him! the pink and red threads blends together so nicely, and is that a little spiral pattern on the outside? ooohh, you're just too cute! thank you, mc!

he will, in front of you, begin planning outfits around the bracelet. no long sleeves-- that'll hide the bracelet, and we don't want that! asmo wants everyone to be able to see it at all times. he can imagine the jealousy on his brother's faces as he shows off the exclusive gift he got from his beloved mc!

don't make anyone else a bracelet now too, alright dear? this sort of affection is all his. it's not as special if you make one for the rest of his lame brothers, now is it? if you want to make more, make them for him! he'll take as many as you'd be willing to make, darling.

if you do dare to make him another one, watch out. you've just opened pandora's box. now he's making requests-- will you do this color combo, mc? what about these? can you do that little stripe pattern on this one, and keep this one simple? the possibilities are endless, and (un)luckily for you, so is his imagination.

if you tell him that he can make his own bracelets, he'll pout. those wouldn't be friendship bracelets then, would they? they're only special because you make them, dearest. he'll pout until you relent, then shower you in as much affection as you'll accept to reward your never-ending kindness.

he's as disciplined with his bracelet routine as he is with every other part of his appearance. he takes it off for bathing and sleeping, so it won't get messed up without him noticing. if he has to go to a photoshoot or a formal event, he'll keep it tucked safely in his bag, so it's close to him at all times (and so none of his brothers get any ideas if they see it unattended).

Beelzebub

beel will probably be confused when you first present him with the gift. he's already holding out his wrist for you to tie it on, though. just because he doesn't understand doesn't mean he'd ever reject a gift from you.

when you explain what it is and its significance, he's all smiles. he's very happy that you want everyone to know the two of you are friends. he'll treasure it, mc. and he does-- he's very careful with it, careful to take it off when he thinks it might get dirty. he sets it gently on the nightstand or in his bag so it doesn't get tangled or lost.

then one day, tragedy strikes.

beel takes his bracelet off one day for fangol practice for safekeeping. he swore he slipped it into his bag, and yet when he gets home to unpack, it's nowhere to be seen. he's crushed. beel comes to break the news to you right away, with the sorrowful expression of someone that had just lost a loved one. he didn't mean to lose it. he hopes you'll forgive him, mc.

you comfort him and explain that you're not mad, not at all! accidents happen. you urge him to go shower and decompress after such a rough practice-- you'll handle the friendship bracelet situation. he (somewhat hesitantly) agrees and leaves your room with a solemn nod. you get to work crafting a new one with the same colors and technique. by the time he's out of the shower, you're coming to his room, replacement in hand.

beel is over the moon. he's quietly thanking you as you tie it on, promising that he'll be more careful with this one. his cheeks go pink with delight when you tell him you'll make him as many as he likes.

Belphegor

you proudly present belphegor with the physical embodiment of your friendship-- a purple and navy braided bracelet-- and he immediately begins clowning on you. really, mc? a friendship bracelet? what are you, seven? the thought of you toiling away over some colorful strings alone in your room makes him chuckle aloud.

fine then, jackass. maybe someone else would appreciate it more?

suddenly he's sitting up in bed. now, who told you that you could give away his present like that, hmm? does your friendship mean nothing? that's right, mc, get back here. that lame ass little bracelet is his.

for someone that made fun of you for making such a juvenile little gift, belphie doesn't seem very keen on taking it off anytime soon. the bracelet becomes frayed and ratty, dulled by time and messed up against blankets or bedsheets. tease him about it down the line and he'll scoff. first, he'll try to make fun of you for noticing such a thing. when that doesn't work, he'll complain that you tied the ends into a knot and now he can't get it off.

actually, ellen belphie, that's not true. you definitely showed him how to take it off the first time you put it on. you reach over and begin to tug at the ends when he yanks it away with a suspicious look. who said you could touch it, you little thief? get your own. it seems someone has grown quite fond of the bracelet in the past few weeks.

"what are you, seven?" you mock with a shit-eating grin. belphie ignores you and rolls back over. you don't neglect to notice the way he tucks his wrist-- the one with the bracelet-- close, hidden under a pillow or two. just try to take it now. just because he won't admit how much he likes it doesn't mean he won't fight tooth and nail to keep the little affectionate trinket on his person at all times.

#IM WORKING ON REQUESTS I PROMISE #gonna do the dateables for this one at some point too #also if someone requests a reverse of this prompt... i will do it #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me x reader

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ineffable-suffering · 10 months ago

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The meaning of "I forgive you"

Alright, hello again, I involuntarily dipped for a bit because real life outside of this lovely Tumblr Good Omens bubble got a little bit stressful, but! I'm back for a quick little post to say that I'm currently reading the script book for Season 1 and seeing this line again, spelled out on paper, just shone some more light on the whole „I forgive you“-scene of Season 2 for me again.

Because really, this first time Az says it to Crowley in front of the bookshop tells us exactly what the second time during the Final Fifteen means.

Aziraphale is not forgiving Crowley for kissing him. Or for using this moment to confess and make things explicit between them.

No, Aziraphale is forgiving Crowley for not trusting and believing (in) him.

Let's shove the Final Fifteen to the side for a second and look at this scene from Season 1 under the cut.

The situation at hand: The World is ending, with utmost certainty. In addition, Crowley is absolutely f*cked and Hell is out to get him. He tries to apologise for their Bandstand fallout and explain the other two things to Az (poorly, but he tries). Because to Crowley, Armageddon is a done deal already. Wherever the actual Antichrist is, he's gonna come into his power and the World will be wiped out for Heaven and Hell to wage their war on. Also, Hastur is coming to kick his demon ass. Time to dip!

And yet, Aziraphale doesn't want to come with him. He is adamant that he will be able to reach the Almighty, talk to Her and turn this around. Because if Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate, thinks there's even the slightest, tiniest morsel of a chance that he can turn things around the right way, he will do it. Even if it sounds ridiculous. Even if it's a lost cause to everyone else. Even if all the other angels gang up on him and (literally) beat him up.

Even if Crowley calls him stupid.

Aziraphale decides not to be offended by this.

Because this is what he does. This is what a Guardian does. He stays and protects to ward off the intrusion, until the very last second.

Now listen, I'm the last person to blame Crowley for intrinsically wanting to choose Flight over Fight in this very situation, because Lord knows (literally) what happened to him back when he chose Fight and lost.

But at the same time we have to keep in mind that despite his last name, Aziraphale never Fell. He never made the horrible experience of being chucked away by the one who made you to love Her because you chose to question her ways. And yes, in so many ways this choice of his, to still believe that he can change something by questioning and suggesting (both here and in S2), is utterly maddening and hurtful to Crowley. Because it's a mirror of what Crowley himself did and a reminder of just how big the price he had to pay was. Aziraphale seemingly not realizing or understanding this stings. It does.

And yet.

Yet Aziraphale's choice to not take no for an answer, to not let a punch to the gut derail him from his plan, to not let even the most definitive thing such as Armageddon keep him from fighting back, is the one thing that ends up saving the World.

Because even when it all seems impossible and completely hopeless and bloody Satan himself is erupting from the pits of Hell, ...

... Aziraphale picks up his sword and fights back.

And he wins.

Not without help, of course. But might I remind you of what got Crowley to cooperate and not simply surrender like he'd almost done that second?

You might not see it at first, but tucked in between all the posh hedonism, hidden away underneath that tightly buttoned waistcoat of his, Aziraphale is a fighter. And a good one at that. I mean, for Someone's sake, he got discorporated, beamed himself down back to Earth, found Crowley somehow, possessed a psychic prostitute (love you, Madame Tracy), rode a scooter all the way to Taddfield and fought off Lucifer with sheer willpower (and a bit of emotional coercion).

Aziraphale can fight. Smart and hard. And not only that: He can win, too. And he knows it. Because he believes, truly, firmly and wholly, that he can make things right. It's the only thing he will settle for. This, ladies and gents, this is how he ends up saving the World, together with Crowley, Adam and the rest.

Because he didn't accept no as an answer. He didn't look at the impossible and accept it as such. Even when Crowley thought him to be an idiot for trying and even after his initial attempt at talking to God had failed, Aziraphale still found a way to stop The Big Bad Thing from happening.

Which is exactly what his plan is when he ends up being forced to come back to Heaven by the Metatron. (If you still believe this was a voluntary choice, read here). And which is exactly why he is so hurt and still ends up forgiving Crowley for the fact that Crowley doesn't end up coming with him. Doesn't end up understanding, trusting and believing (in) him, just like all the way back at the end of the World in Season 1.

Aziraphale decides not to be offended by this.

#good omens #good omens season 2 #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens meta #gos2 #good omens 2 #i forgive you #*saunters onto your feed* i'm BACK #the final fifteen #aziraphale is a fighter #and he will always win #my own meta

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romor · 9 months ago

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I'm starting to think people don't understand that adaptations have to be different. Did netflix have the same amount of time as Book 1 to work with? Technically yes, but 20 episodes is for sure more than 8 so they didn't.

If you are constantly comparing it to the original and upset about the changes. Then for sure the netflix adaptation is not for you.

I've seen some bad adaptations over the years, for example my favorite book is Inkheart. Even the 2010 Avatar movie is a better adaptation than Inkheart's.

Conclusion it's a pretty good series, if you like the original, if you can watch it without constantly comparing it to the original you will enjoy it more.

Editing to add to this since so many have said something.

Inkheart is not a horrible movie, but it is a bad adaptation. Fantastic cast, with no loyalty to the source material.

There is a difference between adapting a story, and remaking it. This is literally being referred to as the netflix adaptation, so clearly it's not a remake. Because it is an adaptation, changes are expected. It would be stupid to expect a copy and paste story.

The changes make sense, because if you want book 2, and only have 8 episodes to work, you have to make a lot happen. The original show has clear start and end points for the events that occur (aka you know that start of the episode and the end). That's fine, when you have 20 episodes to work with, each 20 minutes. That doesn't work with 8 episodes each 1 hour (or about an hour). It doesn't translate to smooth storytelling. A lot of important things occur in book 1, but let's not forget that book 1 is also more episodic vs the rest of the series. In fact don't we often say "it gets better," about the book 1? What I am saying, a lot has to happen in the first season to set up not just season 2, but season 3. They did really good making sure those events happened.

I don't mind the mixing of plot because they didn't have much of a choice if they wanted a cohesive plot. I would also like to add I'm so glad the removed the northern air temple episode's setting. Never felt right with me.

I'm not saying don't compare them because it's impossible not to. I'm saying that if you are constantly going to be thinking of everything they changed, if you think the original series is so perfect. So unflawed, that how dare they even try. If you are going to be watching it already offended that they decided to even touch it. This adaptation is not for you.

If you were like me and wished that fire did in fact burn everytime it touched someone. If you are like me and thought the original series was too light-hearted for its plot. Then you will enjoy it. It's a fun adaptation, that keeps as loyal to its source material as it can be.

Yes I have my issues with it, but that doesn't mean it wasn't a fun watch.

#natla #atla #avatar the last airbender

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luveline · 1 year ago

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hi jade!! can i request something with the marauders (platonic or romantic) maybe reader has been real stressed with work or school and the marauders try to get her to relax once they realize how stressed she actually is?? ty! u don’t have to do this, it’s just a thought :))

thank you for your request my love, nearly romantic poly!marauders x fem!reader

James notices first, surprisingly. While Sirius is fluent in what goes unsaid, and Remus is more than familiar with stress, it's James who has learned to read his sometimes sulky friends, and so it's James who knows that your tight shoulders and your half-hearted smile are from more than being tired.

He doesn't want to announce your potential upset upset the world, so he waits for Remus to get a drink while Sirius is in the loo and slides down the sofa toward you until you're sitting thigh to thigh. He doesn't ever want much space from you. He's fortunate that you feel the same.

"What, James?" you ask, leaning on his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"Are you okay?" he asks quietly, solemn, so you know he's serious.

"Why wouldn't I be okay?"

"You just seem unhappy tonight, is all. You know you can tell me. Or if you don't want to tell me, you can tell one of the boys."

Because you and your friends are in an incredibly weird (not weird, really, unexpected, but so full of love and sweetness that weird doesn't apply) situation in which you aren't dating anyone but it feels like you are. James imagines it as a sort of precipice, where you might choose one of them, or, in what seems the more unique but better fit, you might not choose at all.

James only knows you feel the same way about them as they do about you because you'd confessed to Remus how guilty you feel for stringing them along. He reported back, and is quoted by himself to have said, Well, we must be stringing you along too. While I string James along, and Sirius strings me.

So everybody fancies everybody and nobody knows what to do about it. (Well, apart from that one kiss between James and Remus, which went exceptionally well. James had known what to do about that). For tonight, nothing has to be done. All James needs to do is figure out how to make you feel better.

Remus is offended at having had his seat stolen when he returns, but then he sees your sad face slack on James' big shoulder and forgets to be annoyed. Crouching down in front of you, Remus tilts his head to the side to align his face to yours, a frown mirrored on his lips as he asks, "What's wrong, dove?"

The way he says it makes James pleased, and it also makes him like Remus impossibly more. James is earnest and ardent in wanting to comfort you, but Remus is very, very good at it. He has this seriousness, no-nonsense tone wrapped in a soft affection that could draw out James' very worst secrets. It's no surprise when you crack clean in two and confess.

"I'm really stressed out." Your voice takes a horrible dive, like you might cry. "Um, work is just hard, and I'm worried about money, too."

James doesn't suppose you're in the depth of a relationship where it's appropriate to offer to bankroll you, and it's not what you want anyhow. He bites back any affluent admission in favour of a subtler approach.

"You're worried about money?" he asks, gently as he can. "You aren't going without, are you? I really hope you'd tell us if it were bad."

You shake your head. "I'm not going without. Don't worry, it's not that bad." But it could be, goes unsaid.

Remus hums, his hand on your knee. "You know we care about you. Please, don't not tell us if you need something, okay?" His hand climbs the stretch of your thigh. "What's worrying you, dove? With work, are they giving you a hard time again?"

Sirius returns somewhere in the midst of your talking, and he's absolutely horrified when a single tear bounds down your cheek. He squeezes between you and the armrest of the sofa to wipe your face as it comes, his weight almost entirely on top of you, so close that his hair tickles your cheek and neck. "Don't cry. I promise not to leave you alone with these two ever again," he jokes, though the tenderness with which he holds your face is nothing but sincere.

James, sick of being the only one not comforting you physically, finds one of your hands to hold. It's smaller, and warm, and he pulls it to his chest as though that might hide you away from all the things that are freaking you out.

To no one's shock, the boys are good listeners. Not always to each other, but what one lacks another can make up, and they manage to pull out from you your pack of troubles one by one. When that's done, they assuage each accompanying fear.

If the very worst happens, you'll always have them to lean on.

That makes you cry more than the stress. Grateful —though the last thing they're comforting you for is gratitude— you needle your arms around Sirius' waist and hide your face in his chest. He frowns down at you as he wraps you up tightly. James doesn't even feel jealous. Well, mostly, until Sirius kisses your forehead and James can actually see your happy shudder. Lucky for him, you aren't done. You squeeze Sirius before pulling away and turning to James. He realises then what made Sirius so bold, your whispered thank you like a vibration through his chest. He pats your back.

"That's alright," he murmurs.

You nod and squeeze and move on to Remus, who's been sitting at your feet for the last twenty minutes while you cry, concerned but not complaining. He's eager even if he won't say that, climbing to his feet so he can reach down for you and receive his own hug. James is a ridiculous romantic, and he just aches with affection for both of you as he watches Remus nose your cheek. When Remus finally pulls away, Sirius is looking at them with the same expression.

"Do you feel better?" he asks you.

You sniffle and wipe your nose with your sleeve sheepishly. "Yes. Thank you, boys. I really don't know what I'd do without you."

James forgets restraint and swings his arm around your shoulder. "It's a good thing you'll never be without us, then," he says, and kisses your cheek.

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that-sarcastic-writer · 4 months ago

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Terms and Conditions

Russell Shaw X F!Doctor!Reader

Summary: when your sister's fiance goes missing, you call Colter for help, and he brings along his rugged, but handsome and charming older brother, Russell.

Warnings: mature content, eventual smut so minors dni (always), no use of y/n, this part only contains cursing. I've never written anything so tame (it's okay next part won't be)

WC: 3.6k

A/N: so I finished tracker, yay and Russell owns my thoughts rn so here we are. I'm not exactly sure where I'm going with this. I'm not great at writing series, but this idea called for development I can't do in a one-shot. I started this right after finishing tracker last week and I finally had time to proof read it. I also had a hard time with Russell's characterization, mans been in only one episode, so if i didnt portay him perfectly sorry i tried. Happy readings.

I don't do tag lists, if you'd like keep up with upcoming parts follow @midnightreadinglibrary and turn on notifications (I only reblog my written works on there)

You have encountered a lot of grief and sorrow in your life. Pain, you were familiar with it. And you could safely say that one of the worst was heartbreak. You were all too familiar with that one. And right now, your baby sister was experiencing it, too.

“Rosie?” You called into your apartment as you kicked your shoes off and tossed your keys like they had offended you. With a heavy sigh, tired from a long and stressful day at the hospital, you dragged your sore feet through your apartment.

The living room was empty, TV off. The kitchen was dark with the lights off. You frowned, calling your sister’s name, louder again. Couple seconds went by. Silence. You padded down the hall to the guest room. You could hear faint indistinct sounds. The closer you got to the guest room the clearer the sound became. It sounded like crying.

“Rosalie?” Your voice grew louder with concern as you opened the door to the bedroom, and there you saw your sweet baby sister, sobbing into her pillow. Your heart immediately sank and you rushed to her side. “Oh honey, it’s okay.”

You sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her into a hug. She held you tight as she cried. It broke your heart to see her like this.

“It’s not okay! He’s been gone for over a week!” She sobbed. You squeezed her shoulders as she sat up and sniffled. “Our wedding is in three months! Why hasn't he come back?”

You stared into her eyes, the same color as your own and you sighed, only being able to give her a look of sympathy in return. You didn’t want to tell her what you thought.

“I dunno.. I mean.. What if he just.. You know?” The look on your face said everything you couldn’t with words, and Rosie looked like she wanted to cry even more.

“He didn’t bail. He wouldn’t… I know him. He's missing, why won’t anyone believe me?” She raised her voice, almost choking on a sob, and you immediately felt so horrible for even suggesting such a thing.

“No, hey, I’m sorry for saying that, I do believe you. Have you heard anything from the cops?” She shook her head and you sighed heavily.

“I can’t keep waiting, what if he got hurt? What if someone hurt him? Please, I need to do something.” She begged you, eyes filled with tears, you had never seen your sister so sad, so hopeless. She was always the more bubbly, optimistic and lively out of the two of you. But ever since her fiance went missing, you didn’t see that spark anymore. It broke your heart.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay. I think I know someone who can help, alright? We’ll find him.”

~~~~~~~

“Hey Doc, to what do I owe this call? It’s been like what, three years?”

You sighed softly at the voice on the other line. You didn’t exactly want to resort to this, but you didn’t know what else to do, but you had the money, your sister didn’t exactly have a lot to spare with her wedding planning, and all.

“I need a favor, Colter. Well, not exactly a favor, I’ll pay but, I need help asap.” You rubbed the side of your throbbing temple, you heard him hum, telling you to go on. “My sister’s fiance went missing last week. They’re supposed to get married in three months, and the poor thing is a wreck.”

Colter sighed. “A runaway groom? You know what that sounds like, right?”

“Yes, I know. But I know this guy, he’s a decent guy, and I know he loves my sister, he wouldn’t just leave her like this.” You tried to explain, Colter sighed again. “Listen, the guy was in the Army, he’s a Navy SEAL now, went overseas a lot, and my sister told me he’s been acting weird since his last assignment. Just humor me, please? I can’t see her like this.”

Colter stayed silent for a long minute, you honestly thought he had hung up, but you ultimately heard him take a deep breath before responding. “Fine, send me his details, I should get there by morning if I head out now.”

“Thank you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Chaos, chaos and more chaos.

You just wanted five minutes to breathe. You sat down, for the first time in hours today and took in a deep breath. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Rosie, almost zombie-like as she walked through the emergency department You called out to her.

“Hey, did you get some sleep?” You asked her with worried eyes. She shrugged. “Listen, I called an old friend, he helps find people. Maybe he can find James, ‘cause the cops clearly aren’t going to.” You saw the smallest smile, and the smallest bit of hope light of her eyes.

“Really? What, is he like a PI or something?” She tilted her head at you, seemingly just as exhausted as you were.

“I mean..” You hesitated, unsure on how to explain Colter’s job to her. “I guess? He collects reward money. When someone goes missing and a reward is offered, he finds people for that reward.”

“But I didn’t offer any reward. I can’t even afford to buy a pair of shoes right now.. On my shitty nurse salary. I’ve already spent so much of my savings on planning the wedding. And these student loans are killing me. I can’t pay him.” She started to ramble in panic, motioning her hands around. You stood up and grabbed her hands.

“It’s fine. I got it covered. Take it as your early wedding gift?” You flashed her a toothy smile, hoping to humor her at least a little. She looked at you with apprehension. “Not a word, okay? I want him to come home to you, I don’t mind spending some money if it means you can be happy.”

She could have the happiness you never could.

Rosie’s eyes filled with tears and you thought she was going to burst into tears in the middle of the emergency department, but instead she hugged you, and she hugged you so fucking hard you thought she broke one of your ribs. You laughed softly and patted her head reassuringly. You were about to say something to her but you heard your name being called. You turned around and saw one of the rotation nurses.

“You have visitors at the front desk.” She told you. You scrunched up your face in confusion.

“Who? I wasn't expecting anyone.”

“Don’t know. The front desk just said two guys asked for you directly.”

Oh. Colter. But who was the other guy?

‘Alright, thanks.” You nodded at her. You then looked at Rosie with a warm reassuring smile and you held her hands in yours. “We’re gonna find James, I know it. I’ll let you know when my friend wants to meet with you, he normally likes to talk with the missing person’s closest relative. Try to focus on work alright?”

You left her with that, hoping she would trust you. And you hoped you could trust Colter. With a heavy sigh you walked to the front desk of the emergency department. And there you saw Colter, hands in his pockets as he talked with another man you didn’t recognize. With a bit of skepticism, you approached both men, letting your presence be known with a clear of your throat. They both turned to look at you, Colter with a warm welcoming smile, but the other guy, who was arguably the hottest man you had ever seen in your life—not that it was relevant—looked at you like a deer in headlights, like starstruck.

“Hey Colter,” you gave him a cordial smile, then you looked at his slightly shorter companion, though both men were still a good head taller than you. “And Colter’s friend. Didn’t know you had a partner.”

“I don’t. This is—”

“Russell. Colter’s more handsome and charming older brother.” Russell interrupted, extending a hand to you. You looked at Colter, who looked less than impressed and you couldn’t help but snort a bit.

“I see the flirty nature is a family thing then?” You took Russell’s hand with a small laugh but you quickly swallowed when you felt the warmness of his large hand as it engulfed your smaller one. You weren’t really laughing then. You made eye contact with Russell, you had never seen a pair of prettier eyes, a breathtaking shade of green, and an intensity that was equally breathtaking. It didn’t help that he was smiling at you, too.

You cleared your throat and took your hand back, choosing to look at Colter instead, “So uh, what’s the plan?”

“Right, well, first things first, I need more details about this James, think you could take an early lunch? I would also need to talk to your sister as soon as possible.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, catching a glimpse of your watch before ultimately nodding, “Yeah, just give me an hour. We can meet at this cafe nearby, I’ll send you the address. You can meet with my sister after her shift. She’s been staying with me.”

They looked at each other for a second, shrugged then nodded at you. These two were definitely brothers.

~~~~~~~~

You were frantic as you pulled into the cafe, running late after a code blue that took up almost the whole hour to get under control. You were sure that you looked like a mess, still in your scrubs, pieces of hair falling out of your bun as you entered the cafe. You were almost embarrassed that Russell was going to see you like this, you didn’t care too much about Colter, though. When you entered you saw them sitting at a booth, two cups of coffee sitting on the table but no food. You felt a bit bad. Colter noticed you and waved you over, making Russell turn his head to look at you. And somehow he didn’t seem to care about how wild you looked.

“I’m so sorry. I had a code blue. I hope I didn’t waste your guy’s time.” You said almost frantic, barely able to catch your breath. You unconsciously sat next to Russell, who seemed quite happy about that.

“Nonsense. We were actually waiting for you to order, right Colt?” Russell reassured, and when you turned your head to look at him he was smiling at you, a toothy smile that made the corners of his eyes wrinkle a tiny bit, it was kind of cute, actually.

“Yep. Russell insisted we waited. Even though we haven't eaten anything in over six hours.” Colter sighed sipping on his coffee.

“Well at least one of you has manners.” You narrowed your eyes at Colter, and you heard Russell rumble a laugh.

“Y’know what? Let’s just focus on the case, okay?” You held back a laugh and simply nodded, trying to ignore the intoxicating scent of Russell beside you, a mixture of bourbon and sandalwood.

Colter asked you a million questions, ones you had answers to, and others didn’t, which was probably best if he talked to your sister, too. Your food also arrived quickly, which you were thankful for since you hadn’t had anything other than the Keurig coffee from the doctors lounge.

“So, you said James was in the army?” You nodded as you munched on a fry. “And is Navy SEAL now?”

“Yeah, he went overseas every month or so. But after his last assignment a few weeks ago he told my sister about getting out.” You answered as you bit into your cheeseburger. You didn’t often like to indulge in greasy heavy foods, but you were beyond stressed from both work and your sister, so you needed some joy in your life.

“He wanted out? Why?” Russell asked beside you. You shrugged.

“I don’t know. One thing or another about being tired of being on the battlefield, wanting to be home more. Or that’s what Rosie told me.” You answered as you munched on your burger. You thought for a few seconds before speaking again. “But if you ask me, I think something went wrong in his last assignment. Rosie said he didn’t speak to her for a whole day after coming home, and that he was constantly on edge and irritable for weeks leading up to his disappearance.”

“Maybe. Might be worth looking into.” Colter shrugged as he took a bit out of his sandwich. “You think we’d be able to look into his assignments overseas?” He asked Russell.

“Doubt it. If they’re classified, which most likely they are, they’d either have little to no paper trail, or they would be heavily secured.” Russell said with a mouthful of fries, which Colter clearly disapproved of. But Russell paid no mind to it, his attention was all on you.

“How do you know?” You asked Russell with genuine curiosity. He half grinned a bit.

“I used to be in the Army too. Spec ops. That's why Colter brought me along.” Russell explained, and you almost wanted to sigh out loud. “So I know damn well how secretive some of those overseas assignments can be. Most are black-ops and off the books. It’d be hard to find the files.”

So much for tall, rugged and handsome. Guess you’re going to have to look from afar.

‘Well fuck. That sounds lovely.” You mumbled into your burger, annoyed and frustrated. Russell actually laughed this time.

“You know that burger isn’t gonna run away, right?” He chuckled at the way you were so aggressively stuffing your face. Colter narrowed his eyes at his older brother and kicked him under the table. “Okay, ow.”

“Mind your business? Also, you have no room to talk dude.” You scoffed, eyeing his sriracha covered fries with disgust. “That’s actually fucking criminal.”

“Well, this one has a mouth on her. And here I was trying to be a gentleman.” He chuckled, playful grin on his face as he shoved a particularly heavily sriracha-covered fry in his mouth while you watched. “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, sweetheart.”

You stared at him with an indescribable feeling. You didn’t remember the last time a man had this much of an effect on you. Sure, in your mind it didn’t do him any favors that he used to be in the military, but you’d gladly break your own rule for just a little taste of him. He was a little rugged, sure, but he was undeniably handsome and carried himself with an alluring sense of self confidence. And the way he smiled at you, God, it made you feel like a schoolgirl, warm and tingly. You didn’t remember the last time a man looked at you like that, either.

“Can we focus here?” Colter, the ever present voice of reason.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Who woulda thought, you look even more beautiful without the scrubs.” Those were the first words out of Russell’s mouth when you opened the door. You had told them to stop by in the evening after Rosie’s shift so they could talk to her.

“Russell,” Colter sighed, looking at his brother with annoyance but Russell simply smiled, unapologetically proud of himself. They both looked at you, you were trying so hard not to smile right now. “Alright, is Rosie home?”

“Yeah, she’s in the living room. Come in.” You shook your head softly as you allowed both brothers into your apartment.

You led them to the living room, you caught Russell looking around with curiosity. Maybe he was trying to figure you out, figure out how to get on your good side. But he otherwise didn’t say anything.

“Rosie, the guys I told you about are here.” You called out to her and she immediately shot up to her feet and rushed to your side. You looked at her, poor thing looked like she had been crying again. “This is Colter, the tracker, and that’s his brother, Russell. They’re going to help us, okay? Colter just needs to ask you a few questions about James.”

Rosie was nodding profusely, “Anything, I’ll tell you everything you want to know. Just help me find him? Please?”

Colter led her to the couch, perhaps she’d feel safer if she was comfortable. You didn’t want to intrude, you probably weren’t needed right at this time, anyway.

“I’m going to get you guys something to drink.” You announced, wanting to give them some privacy.

“I’ll help.” Russell piped up and you looked at him with curiosity, he simply smiled at you. You didn’t bother to question him.

You went into the kitchen, Russell was close behind you. You could feel his intense gaze burn into the back of your head as you rummaged through your fridge. You tried to ignore it.

“Beer?” You asked, glancing over your shoulder at him.

“Sure.”

You grabbed three beers from the fridge and Rosie’s iced tea. You handed Russell his beer before moving around your kitchen to grab a glass cup from the cupboard. You poured the iced tea into the cup before turning around to find Russell still looking at you, with wonder, and maybe something else you couldn’t quite decipher.

“So what’s your deal?” He asked you as he sipped his beer. You tilted your head at him and furrowed your eyebrows.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, yeah you’re clearly a kick-ass doctor, and a caring sister but, what else is there? I don’t see any pets, surely no kids, no pictures on the walls, minimal decor, hopefully no boyfriend,” You laughed at the last part. “So, what are you about?”

“Right, well uh,” you chuckled softly, awkwardly sipping on your beer as you leaned on the counter. You shrugged. “I’m a doctor who works sixty-plus hours a week, I have zero social life, I’m not home nearly enough to have a pet. And I certainly have no time for the nonsense of men my age. But hey, if you want to know what I’m about, it’ll take more than just shitty beer and a kitchen conversation to figure me out.”

Russell smiled. Genuinely smiled. But it was a different kind of glint, like he was amused, impressed almost. He chuckled as he nodded, stepping to stand in front of you. You straightened up, looking up at him.

“Surely you’d have time to get a drink with me sometime then? I don’t know if I’m your age but I can assure you I’m not going to waste your time. Would love to try and figure you out while I’m here.” He bit his bottom lip, eyebrows raised and green eyes big with expectancy.

Yes—said the warmth between your legs.

No—said your rational mind.

“Russell…” Your voice was a warning, apprehensive as you chewed on your bottom lip. “I don’t think I should be going on dates while my sister’s fiance is missing.”

“It’s her fiance that’s missing, not yours.” He chuckled. You knew he didn’t mean to sound mean, or mocking but you scoffed softly, moving away from him. His words hit you in ways he could never know.

“I don't do… That. Y’know, dating? Or hookups. I don’t do romance, period.” You argued, hands on your hips. He tilted his head at you, eyebrows raised as he looked at you with that indescribably charming look of his. God, did he make it hard to say no.

“Don’t have to be anything. I’m not expecting anything. Just drinks, no strings attached, we’ll see where the night takes us, yeah?” He made a very compelling argument, and his unwavering confidence and charm was hard to resist.

Truly, you didn’t remember the last time you felt so tempted to go on a date with someone, and it wasn’t for lack of trying. From coworkers to patients have made advances you’ve always easily turned down. But Russell? You didn’t feel like you wanted to turn him down. You gave in so easily.

“Whadaya say?”

“Yeah, okay. Just drinks. We’ll see what happens. But don’t get any funny ideas, okay?” You warned him. He chuckled but ultimately raised his hands up in defense when you narrowed your eyes at him.

“I am a gentleman, sweetheart. I know how to behave in front of a pretty girl.”

Your concern was if you could behave in front of a hot guy. Especially when he was as hot as Russell.

#russell shaw x reader #russell shaw x you #russell shaw x female reader #terms and conditions #terms and conditions series #russell shaw #tracker

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charlottecutepie · 9 months ago

Text

ᡣ𐭩 His least favourite colour (Michael Afton x fem!reader)

Summary: Teenage Michael has a messy mullet that he cut himself and a piercing on his lower lip that he did the hell knows where. But he's dressed like a rock star: a black leather jacket and ripped jeans, a million chains, only a guitar is missing, and you already know what his birthday present will be.

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, romantic elements, Michael is flirty and weird, 1980s, abusive William, daddy issues, mentions of death, psychology, little bit of fluff, traumatized Michael, Michael has a mullet

Michael is the first kid in the Afton family. Michael grew up surrounded by the love of his mother, but never of his father. Since he was born, William has shown no affection for him. And little boy never understood why, if he seemed to have everything William wanted. After all, he was very interested in mechanics and robotics, he always begged his father to show him how he creates these wonders of technology. But William, being a disgusting father, never did this, refused to do it. When Elizabeth was born, Michael was initially happy that he had a sister. The young man always took care of her and played with her until he noticed that his father behaved way differently with her than with him.

And it caused him heartache. He watched them and didn't understand why he didn't deserve the same. And his mother, as it seemed to him, cared about the little girl more than about him. That's what offended Michael the most: he felt as if his mother had replaced him with Elizabeth, all the toys were bought just for her, all her whims were fulfilled in one second, she was never even punished. Is that even fair?

That's when his youthful maximalism manifested itself. Michael started running away from home and skipping classes. And he knew perfectly well that William didn't like it, and he was doing it to spite him, trying to get revenge for horrible treatment.

But it only made it worse for Michael, because he was always caught and punished, or worse, his most beloved game console was taken away. William began to apply more and more punishments to him, taking away pocket money or grounding him for the whole weekend. But most of all, Michael never understood his mother: why did she let all this happen? Why did she always turn a blind eye to what her husband was doing?

“Does your father know that you smoke?” you ask, giving him a light. Michael puts his hands in his pockets and shakes his head. You're both not dating, but you're pretty close to it. You met at some rock concert where some random guy was trying to molest you, and Michael punched him right in the face, breaking his nose. It was in front of everyone's eyes, and after that, Michael was finally noticed by a group of "cool" teenagers. You didn't like them because they were nothing more than bullies, but Michael never listened to you.

“Does your mom know who you're so pretty for?”

“You fool.” you smile and roll your eyes. Michael may be a fool, but he always manages to embarrass you with his stupid flirts.

Teenage Michael has a messy mullet that he cut himself and a piercing on his lower lip that he did the hell knows where. But he's dressed like a rock star: a black leather jacket and ripped jeans, a million chains, only a guitar is missing, and you already know what his birthday present will be.

…

Michael got used to Elizabeth because you putted into his head that it wasn't her fault, and she's just a kid like himself. It's the fault of his parents, who don't know how to give equal love to both, the fault of his idiotic dad, who thinks he can raise his son by beating him. Michael agreed with you, and the two of you never talked about it again.

“Did you get into a fight again?” you're like a mom to him and at the same time already a girlfriend. “What kind of kindergarten is this?”

“It wasn't me, they started it.” Michael's kindergarten will probably never leave him. “What? I'm telling the truth!”

He's sitting in your kitchen eating hot soup like he's been starving for ages. You know that's not true, but his diet is really terrible, all those snacks and sodas, why is it so hard to eat normal food? And Michael told you why. Because his father went so far as not to allow his son to have lunch or breakfast with family. William only allowed his wife and Elizabeth to sit at the same table with him, but as soon as he sees Michael, he points to the door, like, "get the hell out of here." And when Michael later comes to the kitchen to eat, William pours all the remaining food into the toilet in front of him.

…

Michael's eyes are so wide and huge after the news that his mother is pregnant with another, third child. He doesn't know how to react, in panic he runs to your house and tells you about it. You didn't understand much yourself, but you tried to assure him that maybe this third child would be a turning point. Maybe after he's born, William will change. But you don't believe yourself.

How sad that you were wrong. Evan gets more attention than even Elizabeth, but however she doesn't mind. Unlike Michael, she runs around the baby all day, trying to entertain him. Evan likes his sister's company, but when Michael arrives, something clicks in the little boy's head, and he becomes quiet, not talkative, as if Michael scares him. But in fact, Evan is more afraid of his brother and William's argues than Michael himself. And when these turn into fights, Evan becomes hysterical and runs to hide in the closet of his room. William is well aware that Michael started showing his fangs a long time ago, but when he says something to him in an aggressive tone or slams the door too loudly, the man can't help himself.

“Michael, don't you dare bully Evan.” you're mad at your boyfriend because he came to you with his proud face again as he made his little brother cry again. “God, how many times have I explained to you, this is a kid. You're only ruining his psyche!”

Michael just clenches his teeth and his fists. He's as angry as you are, of course he knew you wouldn't pat him on the head for it, but why are you protecting this pathetic boy?

Michael hates his father, he is angry that he cannot respond to his reproaches and provocations like a "real man", so he takes out all his aggression on Evan. Michael is a coward.

…

Michael cries, punches the walls and swears at himself. He couldn't forgive his father for killing his sister, but what Michael never thought about was that it would happen to Evan, too. With fucking Evan. Who could have even known that Fredbear’s jaw would shut?! Michael couldn't move as he watched the little child's head being torn apart. He heard that hideous, ugly sound of a skull splitting, which still haunts him in nightmares.

In his nightmares, he runs to save Evan, to pull him out of the animatronic's grip, but he can't do anything. He fails because his father holds his hand tightly enough that Michael feels a phantom touch when he wakes up. William holds his wrist and laughs, preventing him from saving his brother, while Evan dies for the hundredth time. This is repeated every night.

Michael is no longer a rock star. Michael is depressed and needs psychological help.

Michael cut off his idiotic mullet and threw out all his leather jackets with ripped jeans, took off his piercings. But at least now Michael has the guitar you gave him for his birthday. That one is now lying dusty in the corner of his room, where Michael never goes. He just stopped showing up at his father's house, yes, not at his house, but at his father's house. Because this was never Michael's house.

Michael still smiles only at you and tries to make stupid flirts, but they don't bother you anymore. Instead, they are disturbing, worrying you.

Michael has lost everyone except you.

“When I die, I'm sure you'll be my devil in hell. Know why? Because you're hella hot, baby.“ Michael makes a sound like laughter.

You're trying to put on your face something like a smile.

Michael is so young, and he's already joking about death. But Michael wouldn't joke about death if he wasn't already dead.

Michael died in 1983. He died after his sister and brother.

“You're going to marry me, right? When we get out of here and move to another state.” There's uncertainty in his voice.

“Of course.” you don't believe him, of course not. “I love you very much.” you hold him close to you, stroke his hair and try your best to hope that everything will be fine.

…

Michael loves to kiss you, hug you, cuddle, rub his nose against yours, lying in your bed. Michael's body is still warm, that means he's still alive. Michael still has a headache, he can still bleed, he can still catch a cold, he still has an appetite. Michael is still alive, and that's all that matters to you.

Michael prefers not to tell where his mother disappeared, he just says that she divorced William immediately after Elizabeth's death. Yes, she divorced William and left her own son with this monster, Michael still thinks it's impossible. He's just scared to think differently, he's afraid, so he makes it up to make it easier.

“You're going to love me even if I’ll smell like a piece of shit, right?“ Michael is weird. He asks you about it almost every day, even though he never smells bad.

“Michael, my love,” you know you have to be kind to him, no matter what idiotic questions he asks. You really love him very much, but sometimes these questions take you by surprise. “even if you turn into a living walking corpse, I’ll still love you.”

Michael chuckles, his nightmares telling otherwise.

…

Michael has grown up, now he works as a night guard. He hates his job, but he can't tell you why he's working there. He just makes excuses by saying that he gets paid a lot of money.

It's Michael's stupid habit of keeping everything inside. You know that's not the reason, you know there's something wrong with your boyfriend, but as soon as he comes home early in the morning, exhausted, you don't dare ask him anything.

Michael hates purple colour.

Sometimes you feel like you're distancing from each other because he disappears all night at work and then sleeps at home all day. But you still love him very much and hope that one day you will both get married. But Michael begs you, in case of a wedding, not to wear a purple dress. Any colour, but not purple.

You're starting to worry about Michael's physical health. Michael refuses to eat and kiss. Michael wears more oversized clothes, even though it's damn hot outside. Michael says he's going to sleep in the other room on the couch. One night you try to check if Michael is really asleep.

No, he's not.

Michael hides his face from you and doesn't go out much. Michael doesn't shower, he doesn't even wash his hands.

All of this scares you, you don't understand what happened to your boyfriend. These sudden changes happened too quickly. You try to talk to him, but Michael's voice sounds strange. He doesn't even turn his head when he talks to you.

The smell in the house is becoming more and more terrible, almost unbearable. You've already thrown out all the garbage, done the general cleaning, even poisoned non-existent insects.

You can't take it anymore, so you're trying to clear it up. When Michael comes home, you're already standing in the hallway waiting for him. Your boyfriend is surprised, he hides his face in a mask and tries to sneak into another room.

“Darling, stop avoiding me, please!” you try approach him, hug him. Michael pulls away. You notice that the smell comes from him, not from the house. “What's been going on with you lately?”

Michael is tired of living like this, avoiding you. He wants to feel your touch again, wants to kiss you, wants to go back to bed with you, wants to cook with you, wants to dream with you about your future wedding. Which will never happen.

“Promise me you won't run away.” his voice is scary, sounds like a robotic one. You nod. And that's when Michael finally takes off these damn clothes, takes off his… wig, sunglasses and mask. He opens his soul to you again, if he still has it, of course.

You don't really know how to comment on what's in front of you. It's Michael, but at the same time it's not him. It's a skeleton covered in skin. He has no teeth, there’s terrifying white pupils burn in his empty eye sockets.

“I can't believe it's you... what... what even happened?” you're surprised you can say anything at all after such a shock.

He's not answering. His dead white pupils pierce into yours, alive ones. Michael does hates purple and how cruelly life has treated him, painting his skin this cadaverous color.

“I smell like a piece of shit, right?” Michael tries to smile, even though he doesn't have to try. His jaw was permanently frozen in a deadly grin. “Y/n… You remember what you told me, right?”

You nod. “Even if you turn into a living walking corpse, I’ll still love you.” you remember and dont give up your words.

“I still love you, Michael.” as sad as it may sound, but it’s truth, you really love Michael and you can't imagine life without him. “I… I promise I will never leave you.”

Michael sighs with relief. You finally want to hug him, but he pulls away again and waves his hand as a sign that he smells like a corpse. You don't care, you've been through too much in the last few days, and now you just want to feel his body next to you again, even if it's fucking smelly and cold. You pull him closer and try not to breathe. You get a shock from yourself because you're hugging a literally dead person. But there is only one thing…

Michael didn’t die right now, he died back in 1983.

#michael afton smut #fnaf x reader #fnaf x y/n #michael afton x you #michael afton x reader #michael afton #michael afton fnaf #michael afton x female reader #fnaf smut #michael Afton imagines #michael schmidt x reader #fnaf x you #fnaf movie #fnaf #fnaf headcanons

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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

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hey :)) first off, i love the hozier caption in your bio. second, I’ve been reading so many of your fics recently and i think you’re sooo talented! i wanna be like you when I grow up (im 20 almost 21 lol)

anyways, I’ve never really requested anything but i wanna give it a try. I was wondering if you could do a poly!marauders x reader fic or a just remus x reader fic where’s she’s driving and accidentally hits an animal and is really upset about it but they’re there to help to her move it and comfort her.

i just hit a cat and im not taking it well. we think it was just a stray cause I left my number with it in case but no one has called. my family kinda, but not really, made fun of me for being so sad about it and i kinda just need something with the guys being so affectionate and loving with her after everything.

it’s totally okay if youre not up to it! I understand that it’s such a hard topic so I won’t be offended if you don’t feel comfortable writing in this.

thank you again and im sooo looking forward to youre future work!! you’re talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, completely not ever been done before (lady gaga)

Mwah mwah mwah <3<3

-aves

(sorry this is so long)

Hi sweetheart, thank you so much! (Is your username a Lizzy McAlpine reference? I love that) I'm really sorry you went through this, I've been fortunate enough to have never hit an animal but I've seen it happen and it's so horrible, I'm really sorry you've been dealing with this :(( I think you did the right thing by leaving your number with it, and I hope the weight of that trauma and grief is starting to lift off you my love. Thank you for requesting <3

cw: mention of killing an animal, reader feeling guilty

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.8k words

James hears the door and is up instantly, bounding down the hall to greet you and Sirius.

“Hello!” he calls ahead, eager for company after being left alone in your flat for over a half hour. “You guys took your time today, I thought even Remus might beat you home. Was traffic a riot, or…”

Sirius is looking at him with panic in his blue-gray eyes, clearly trying to convey one of those telepathic messages James has never been great at interpreting, and you…you’re looking at nothing. Your gaze is distant as you work off your shoe, the area around your eyes puffy and gray with smudged mascara.

“Hey,” James breathes, then feels stupid. It sounds like he’s accusing you of something. He tries again. “Is everything okay?”

Sirius gives him a look that says What do you think? and crouches beside you to help with a stubborn knot in your shoelace. Your hands are trembling, James notices. Dread settles like a stone in his stomach.

“I’ve got it,” Sirius murmurs to you, fingers gentle as they intercept your own, but the alarm doesn’t leave his expression as he watches your face. Ah. As much as it kills James to see you upset, Sirius will have no idea what to do with you in this state. Tears have always set him on edge.

James squats, joining the two of you on the floor. “Hi, sweetheart.” He does his best to keep his own anxiety out of his voice as his hand finds your ankle, fingers wrapping around the bit of skin between the hem of your jeans and your socks. “Has something happened?”

Your eyes meet his already full of tears, and James braces himself. Sirius does too, by the look of it, his shoulders tensing as he watches your face like you’re about to crumble away to nothing right here on their doormat.

“I—” That’s all you get out before you have to bite down on your lip to keep from crying. A tiny whimper escapes, and spider web cracks spread across James’ heart. A sluggish tear leaks from your right eye.

“It’s okay,” he swears, though he has no way of knowing it. You press the back of your hand to your mouth, trying to quell the sobs that shake your frame even with no air to feed them. “Oh, honey.” James leans forward, wrapping you in an awkward but very heartfelt hug, your knees between his chest and yours but your head crossing the distance to wet his shoulder with your tears.

A sympathetic pressure builds in James’ sinuses, but he does his best to breathe through it. Stability tends to help you more than sympathy in these situations, and since Remus isn’t home yet, it’s left to James to be the reasonable one (Sirius would have all sorts of jokes to make about that, but he doesn’t seem to be feeling up to them either).

He gives you a few moments of reprieve, a few passes of his palm up and down your spine, before trying again. “What’s going on?” he asks, gently as he can. “You guys are scaring me. Sirius?”

Sirius’ brow pinches like he almost doesn’t want to say it either, and the anticipation in James’ chest heavies. “We were driving home,” he says slowly, keeping a wary eye on you lest he worsen your upset, “and a rabbit ran in front of the car.”

Relief nearly chokes James at the same time as a sympathetic sorrow takes ahold of him. He pets the back of your head. You tremble with the force of your crying, leaning into his touch greedily.

“She was driving?” he asks quietly, though he’s nearly sure. If your reaction isn’t enough to go off of, he already knows that you usually pick Sirius up from work and drive the both of you home.

Sirius nods.

“It doesn’t sound like there was anything you could do,” he murmurs to you, cupping the back of your neck to encourage you to look up at him. You do, sniffling as your lip quivers, and James uses his thumb to brush a wet streak of mascara from your blotchy cheek.

“It must have been so scared.” Your voice breaks on the last word and James’ heart along with it, leaving a throbbing wound in the center of his chest.

“I doubt it had time to be scared, honey,” he tries to reassure you, but his own voice is fraught. He looks to Sirius. “Did you…do you know if it…passed?”

Sirius is half hiding behind his hair, a sure tell of his disquiet, and it brushes his shirt collar when he nods again. “We weren’t sure at first, so I got out to move it off the road. It was dead.” He winces at his wording, and you bite down on your lip harshly. His tone softens as he addresses you. “I really don’t think it felt any pain.”

You look nowhere near ready to believe him, and James is preparing to offer to make you a cup of tea and let you sort out your grief at your own pace when the front door opens again, stopping when it hits Sirius’ side.

“Oh.” Remus pokes his head through. “Hello. Why are we all sitting on the floor?”

Sirius scoots the rest of the way out of the door’s path before deciding to stand instead. He speaks to Remus in a low voice while James runs a hand up and down your side in an attempt to soothe you. He locks eyes with Remus over your shoulder, watching as the taller boy’s gaze takes on the weight of understanding.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Remus wraps Sirius in a half-hug, kissing his surprised boyfriend on the temple before stooping beside you. “That must have been awful to have to see. Let’s get you up, yeah?” He wraps a spindly hand around your forearm, more encouragement than anything, and James grips your other hand as he stands to pull you up with him.

Neither of them seem quite willing to break contact with you, walking you over to the couch like a newborn fawn despite your murmured I’m okay. Sirius follows close behind. The both of you look like you’re perching rather than sitting, unable to completely relax even now that you’re home.

“It must have been quite a scare,” Remus sympathizes, sitting on the edge of his favored armchair.

“A bit,” Sirius mutters, and your throat bobs.

Remus cocks his head. “What’re you thinking, darling?”

James almost wants to look away at the rawness in your expression as you raise your eyes to meet Remus’. “I just…I can’t believe I killed it. I’ve never” —your voice pitches, and you swallow again— “I’ve never killed anything before.”

“It was an accident,” James tells you, beseeching.

“You couldn’t have stopped,” Sirius says. His voice has an odd, desperate quality to it, and James sees Remus notice it at the same time as he does, both boys leaning forward to see Sirius better. For the first time, James notices—had he missed it before, or has it only just started?—that Sirius is trembling slightly too. James’ free hand twitches instinctively toward him, but his dark-haired boyfriend is only touchy when he’s in a good mood. He’s not keen on physical comfort; no matter how many years James has worked on him, Sirius has always preferred to keep his struggles internal. “Or avoided it,” he goes on. “It happened too fast.”

Remus nods at you. “As awful as it is, these things happen sometimes. Hopefully,” he adds when another tear slips down your cheek, “never again to you, but selfish as it is, I’m glad you didn’t slam on the brakes or anything else that could have gotten you and Sirius hurt instead.”

You glance at Sirius, and he gives you a weak smile, taking your hand and squeezing gently.

“Nothing you could have done,” he whispers.

Your lips tremble again. James watches as panic flashes in Sirius’ eyes, but he keeps it together. “I’m really sorry,” you tell him, voice wavering. “I shouldn’t have made you take care of the bunny by yourself.”

James' chest aches as Sirius takes a steadying breath. “You were frazzled. Understandably upset,” he corrects himself, squeezing your hand again. This time you squeeze back. “It was a one-man job anyway.”

You make a soft sound, leaning your head on his shoulder, and James has the sense something has settled a bit in each of you. He raises your joined hands to his lips, kissing the back of yours as Remus’ eyebrows furrow.

“Have you had a chance to wash your hands, love?” he asks Sirius, who blinks.

“No. I forgot.”

Despite the heavy atmosphere, James actually feels the beginnings of a smile tempting his lips as he watches Remus forcibly quell his horror. “Right, then. Why don’t we go do that in the kitchen now, and I’ll make us all some tea.”

“Good idea,” James says heartily, swiping his thumb back and forth over his own kiss on your hand. “Hey, could we take out the good cookies as well?”

Remus hums what James chooses to interpret as assent, shepherding Sirius into the kitchen.

“I’m sorry,” you say to James once the other two are out of hearing.

He looks down at you. “What for, sweetheart?”

You shrug, your shoulders remaining just a tad too high after the motion. You’ve stopped crying, and James is grateful, but he doesn’t think this shameful look is a vast improvement. “I feel like I’m being dramatic. And Sirius is the one who had to see it. He had to drive home too, I was too upset.”

James’ battered, broken heart wells for the both of you. He forgoes his attentions to your hand, wrapping his arm around your shoulders instead to tuck you against his side. “You’re not being dramatic,” he promises, “okay? You and Sirius were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and you both had to witness something awful.” Your head sinks onto his shoulder, and he rubs your upper arm. “I think it’s alright to be sad for a while. For yourselves, and for the bunny. Just, don’t torment yourself, alright?” He withdraws enough to see your face, and you tilt your gaze up to his. “Please. You don’t deserve the guilt.”

Your eyes cast down, contemplative and a bit shy, a moment before your head comes back to its spot on his shoulder. “Thanks,” you murmur.

“No thanks necessary, babe. You can cry all night if you need to, I’ll be right here. Just do me a favor,” he lowers his voice, glancing toward the kitchen, “let me sit between you and Sirius if you do. Many more tears and I think he’ll have a heart attack.”

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alinatk · 6 months ago

Text

Tickles (SatoSugu)

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen Characters: Satoru Gojo | Suguru Geto Lee!Gojo Ler!Geto Summary: Geto discovers something interesting about his boyfriend.

(The art doesn't belong to me, I found it on Pinterest, so it's difficult to know who the author really is, but of course the credits are all his. It works very well as a reference for this story.)

"I'm home" Satoru Gojo said, trying to put a minimum of excitement in his voice, as he closed the apartment door behind him.

The day was very busy, the week actually. Okay, maybe the whole month.

The number and level of curses seemed to grow more every day and as he and Geto were the only special level sorcerers in the Jujutsu School, they had the hardest work. They weren't working as a team, barely managing to meet up throughout the days or do anything other than collapse in bed due to exhaustion at night, so Gojo was a little surprised when he arrived and found him in the kitchen, preparing dinner.

"Ah, Satoru, I didn't hear you arrive" Geto approached to kiss him.

"Are we celebrating something?" Gojo gestured towards the pots on the stove.

"Are you complaining?" Geto crossed his arms.

"No, not at all, the smell is wonderful by the way" He pulled him in for another kiss. "But aren't you tired? We could order something, no problem"

"No, it's okay, I arrived early today and I felt like cooking" He smiled. "And you, are you okay? Your face looks horrible"

Gojo opened his mouth in a forcedly offended expression, making Geto let out a low laugh. "I'm just tired, hungry and there's no way my face looks horrible, Suguru"

"Hmm, maybe I can agree with that" Geto pinched his cheek. "Take a shower, we're going to dinner now"

That's what he did and after they had dinner and Gojo washed the dishes, he collapsed on the sofa next to Geto, throwing his legs over his lap, while he watched something on television.

Gojo was quiet, quieter than usual and Geto noticed that. "Are you really okay?"

"Yes, yes" Gojo covered his mouth, yawning.

"Aren't you in pain?"

"A little, on my lower back and feet, but that's okay, it's not a big deal, it's just because I barely stopped today, I just need a good night's sleep"

"I can give you a massage, taking advantage of your feet monopolizing my lap" He squeezed them, gently.

"Oh no, no need to bother" Gojo tried to pull his legs back, only for Geto to keep a firm grip on his ankles.

"Helping you relax isn't a hassle at all" Geto smiled, making Gojo blush, at the same time as he gently pressed his feet back into his lap, in an exploratory way.

Gojo couldn't deny that it was very relaxing, the tension he felt disappeared within a few seconds. But he also couldn't help but shudder whenever he felt the fingers moving along his soles, a tight smile appearing on his lips. "Y-You really don't need to.."

"Shhh, this part is really good" Geto ignored him, without taking his eyes off the TV and without stopping his movements.

He had started by simply squeezing Gojo's feet lightly, in order to relieve the initial tension, and now he was sinking his thumbs into the skin, running the entire length of the soles with circular movements. Gojo managed to relax, even letting a moan escape his lips, but when Geto softened his movements, letting his nails lightly brush the center of his sole, he couldn't help but flinch. Geto didn't seem to notice, he was too engrossed in whatever he was watching and continued with the movements.

"S-Suguru.." Gojo said, as he squeezed the soles of his feet, trying to pull his legs back.

"Stop moving so much.." And it was only then that Geto looked at him and saw him covering his mouth with his hands, a strange expression on his face.

"That's great, you can stop now" He tried to hide it.

"No way.." Geto didn't realize it right away, but after he looked at his own hands and Gojo's tense posture and expression again, it all made sense. "NO WAY"

"S-Suguru-"

"You're ticklish!" He spoke, a little more enthusiastic than Gojo expected.

"Yeah, maybe a little.." He blushed, looking away.

"How come I never noticed before?!" Geto ran his fingertips along the sole of his foot, this time purposefully tickling it.

"Ah! Aahahaha don't do thahahahat" Gojo tried to pull his legs again.

Geto was delighted and repeated the movements, seeing his boyfriend laugh and shrug his foot away, as he tried to free his ankle from his grip with the other foot. He then grabbed both of them in a headlock, tickling them and eliciting a louder laugh from Gojo.

"AHAHAHAHAHAA, SUGURU! Nohohohoho hahahaha" He moved more, trying to reach Geto's arms as he was overwhelmed by the sensations.

Geto stopped after a few seconds and moved over Gojo, their faces very close to each other and kissed his cheek. "So cute"

"How I hate you.." Gojo said, breathing a little labored. "And isn't it cute!"

"Of course it is," Geto smiled. "so that's why you flinch when I do that?" And he buried his face in her neck.

"Hey! ahahahaha stop ihihihit" Gojo flinched as he felt the hot breath and the trail of kisses that Geto left along his ear and neck.

This only encouraged Geto to repeat the movements on the other side, making him laugh beneath him. And it was only when he started poking him back that Geto stopped, after all, he was also sensitive. He lay down next to him, stroking his white hair, with a satisfied smile on his face.

"Damn, Suguru.." Gojo said, trying to sound serious, but his heavy breathing, flushed face and messy hair didn't make him very convincing. "You said you would help me relax!"

"And it didn't help? Laughing a little?" Geto smiled, that damn smile that made Gojo want to kiss him until he lost his breath.

"N-No!" He huffed, looking away again.

"Ahhh, so you need a little more?" Geto's expression changed to something that looked like innocence and cynicism at the same time and before Gojo could react, he was already straddling his waist.

"Don't you dare.. Suguru don't you dAHAHAHAHARE" Gojo burst into new laughter when he felt Geto's fingers dip into his belly.

The brunette smiled, seeing his boyfriend laugh and squirm beneath him. Gojo wasn't a serious guy, but that was the first time he saw him genuinely laugh like that, he wanted to mark that moment well and repeat it if he had the opportunity. "See how cute it is? You're ticklish everywhere"

Gojo continued to laugh, even though Geto wasn't launching an all-out tickle attack on him. He could also easily push him away and make him stop, but it was Geto, so he didn't care, he loved seeing his boyfriend having fun and smiling like that.

But not that much either. "Ahahahaha that's enough.. that's enough.." He held his wrists and soon Geto got off of him, laying down next to him again.

"Very useful information, I will use it wisely"

Gojo couldn't help but laugh at that. "Don't talk like you're not ticklish too" He poked him armpit, making him squirm away. "And of course I will also take revenge"

Geto grumbled, making an ugly face but internally he thought the idea of a tickle fight was really good, only to see Gojo losing. But that would wait for another time, as they soon fell asleep curled up in each other's arms.

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stuckwthem · 9 months ago

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in the world of boys, he's a gentleman. | enzo v. (eng version)

summary: after watching you waste your time with other dudes, your best friend has some things to confess to you. pure fluff. a bit of angst.

you never thought riding in a dress on a bike would be such an exciting experience, but there you were, clinging to enzo's body and trying to keep your balance on the back of his bike while laughing like crazy.

to contextualize it, enzo had been your best friend for some time, ever since enzo had rented a room in your apartment two years, so living together inevitably turned into a genuine friendship. from time to time, your best friend and roommate was also your superhero. whether it was reading your mind when you were starving and didn't want to cook, or always coming home with your favorite sweets, or saving you from ambushes.

when your messages came on enzo's cell phone earlier, complaining about a date that was going from bad to worse with a slightly arrogant guy, he didn't hesitate to get up and hop on his bike to pick you up. the very idea of imagining you on a date with a horrible guy, and worse, a guy who wasn't him, made him nervous, so now you were in this highly unlikely but completely comical situation. he hadn't given you a choice.

"i can't believe i did that," you said, bursting out laughing, which enzo reciprocated by shaking his head. "imagine his face when he comes back to the table!".

"i'm so sorry for him", replies enzo with irony and a smile that indicates that no, he doesn't regret that he stole you from that douchebag.

"i bet you do" leaning your head on the brunet's back, you replied in the same tone. his body is warm and a little sweaty, but his scent is good and familiar.

enzo was riding the bike down the street, while you held on by wrapping your arms around his waist, the night breeze enveloping you. silence fell for a moment before you decided to break it.

"enzo, seriously, you didn't have to do that. it was going to be fine. it was going to last a few more minutes."

he chuckled, shooting you a corner glance. "well, judging by your desperation in the messages, i'd say 'fine' is a pretty generous word."

you snorted, feigning indignation. "i was dramatizing it a bit, you see."

"i know, i know. but honestly, i couldn't let my friend spend a horrible night with some idiot guy. after all, who else is going to put up with my stupid jokes?"

"oh, is that what i'm here for, a mate who'll put up with your jokes?"

enzo smiled, amused. "among other things, sure. but seriously, i wasn't going to let a guy get away with it one more time."

she rolled her eyes as if offended, but couldn't hold back a smile.

"where do you want to go?" she asked suddenly, leaving you a little confused.

"i thought we were going home," you shrugged.

"i can't let you go home so dressed up without having had a decent date!" enzo exclaims, turning his head slightly, allowing you to see his indignant expression.

you process what he just said and feel your heart skip a beat. he was either guessing things or....

"so we're going on a date?" is your automatic retort, and then, trying to disguise, you clear your throat, worried that you're reading the wrong lines.

maybe, in addition to roommate, best friend and occasional superhero, enzo was also a little crush of yours. one that you had tried to forget through terrible dates that always sent you back to square one: enzo. enzo, who bought you your favorite ice cream when you got your ass kicked when you first met, even though you never talked to him directly about your favorite flavor. enzo, who always waited for you at home with a movie session and a warm blanket. enzo, who always listened to everything you said. enzo, who was your weak point.

"if you want to call it that, we'll have a date, yes," he says, and involuntarily your hands tighten around his waist.

after a few minutes pedaling through the quiet streets, you realize the familiar, everyday route. maybe enzo has changed his mind. you really were on your way home and all your expectations had fallen apart. until, slowly, he stops, and the next thing you know, you're in front of a corner pizzeria. the same new pizzeria that had opened a few days ago near your house and the one you kept telling enzo about.

"pizza?" he asks as if waiting for your approval."

enzo holds out his hand for you to get off the bike and he follows you right away. it's funny how you contrast, while the older guy is wearing casual and simple clothes, you're dressed up in that stupid dress. inside your head, you curse the moment you agreed to go out with that idiot from before. he really didn't deserve all your prep, but enzo, wow. he really seemed to study every part of you and admire every aspect of you. from the most innocent way that some loose strands of your messy bun framed your face to the most indecent way he noticed how beautiful your legs looked in that tight dress.

the two of you had to sit outside, as it was crowded inside, and when you sat down at the small sidewalk table across from enzo, your best friend let out a long sigh as he stared at you. a sigh that said: finally.

"but to be honest with you now, you don't know what a relief it was to see you out of that restaurant," you confessed, with a light, hearty laugh.

"was the mood that bad?" the boy asked with an incredulous expression.

"there was just no mood! the guy went on and on about the life lessons he learned when his dad stopped giving him money for a month, or how i shouldn't feel special if he took me to his apartment after dinner. and we had just arrived!" you exclaimed in amazement at enzo, who suddenly looked serious. too serious. "he hasn't asked me a single question in 45 minutes!".

"what an asshole!" the brunet muttered, rolling his eyes. enzo's gaze turned away from you for a moment, following his own hand as he fiddled with the sauces and plucked pieces of napkin off the table. "why do you keep hanging out with guys like that?"

he asked, still not looking at you, and suddenly your blood boiled, rushing to your head. you took a deep breath, feeling a pang of disappointment hit your chest, not believing what enzo had just said.

"are you implying that it's my fault? i'm responsible for men being totally selfish and..." you close your eyes, involuntarily placing your hand against your own chest. indignantly.

"no! that's not what i meant, my love." enzo lifted his head quickly, meeting your gaze, hurt and betrayed.

he felt like a complete idiot, desperate at the way you were looking at him, not quite sure how to back down. he stood up straight in his chair, leaning over the table to reach for your hand, ready to defend himself when a waiter stopped right next to him.

"good evening, lovebirds! what can i get you?" the man asked, his tone friendly and cheerful, in contrast to the flaring tempers at the table.

you laughed wryly at the waiter's confusion, a regular occurrence whenever you went out together, and folded your arms, turning away from enzo.

"ahm, hello," he scratched the back of his head in bewilderment, and then realized he hadn't even looked at the menu. he fumbled over the pages, didn't know what to order, and suddenly looked lost.

"two pieces of marguerita, vegan option, please," you said, straightening up. "and a coke, with lemon, for him."

enzo looks at you anxiously as the man takes your order, his leg dangling under the table, brushing against yours unaware. the contact makes your whole body shudder, but you still don't look at him. the waiter leaves the table and announces that he'll serve you shortly.

"look, i'm not saying it's your fault. not at all, chiquita," he says, his voice low and his tone worried. you look at your nails, pretending to be indifferent. a little dramatic.

enzo sighs and brings his knee to yours. you squint, indifferent, while he moistens his lips as if trying to find the words on the tip of his tongue.

"i'm trying to tell you that you deserve better than these guys. you know it, i know it." the way he conducts what he says is slow and careful, he continues. "you deserve someone who really appreciates you, who sees all the amazing things i see in you. these dudes you go out with clearly don't see the amazing person in front of them and completely miss the opportunity to meet the best person they could ever have in life."

your eyes automatically rise as you hear what he says, and your lungs don't seem to perform their routine action. your lip trembles nervously. tears gather at the corners of your eyes, because you have to tell yourself that you're only saying that because you want his good, because that's what a best friend would say. and you have to wrestle with all those words before you go to sleep, swallowing all your feelings.

"you know, you're kind, incredibly smart, even if you still think you can beat me playing mortal kombat by pushing all the buttons at once." enzo continues, softening his lecture, making her laugh under her breath. "you're funny, talented, real. cute."

unable to resist any longer, you meet the brunette's gaze again, who gives you a small smile as he notices you slowly give in.

"not to mention your patience, especially when i decide to cook and leave the kitchen as a battlefield."

this time you can't contain the smile that spreads across your face, remembering the last time enzo had tried to prepare food. really, a denial for cooking.

"as a cook, you're a great actor," you mutter, which makes enzo chuckle and take advantage of the space you're leaving him.

"and when you have those creative bursts, writing or creating your own recipes. it's fascinating to see your mind in action, and i always wonder how someone can be so.... unique. how you light up wherever you go, how you make things seem so much easier when you're around and...".

enzo seems to be in the middle of a great discovery. he laughs to himself, shaking his head, as if he regrets having said all that and his eyebrows rise, almost in a gesture of desperation.

"got it," you say, a little sheepishly. your cheeks heat up and you suddenly feel like a teenager.

"anyway, i guess what i'm trying to say is that you're an extremely lovely person." enzo seems to relent, and his body softens in the chair. "and anyone who doesn't see that doesn't deserve to be with you."

his breath comes out as if someone has just punched him in the stomach. your hands run across the table, seeking his, which grasp your fingers gently. you say nothing for a long moment, during which the waiter returns and serves you in complete silence.

his confession gives the atmosphere another kind of tension. before you could respond, enzo averted his gaze, as if trying to escape the intensity of the situation.

"you know what? forget what i said. let's enjoy dinner and forget i said all that. what am i? shakespeare? don juan?" he joked, trying to lighten the situation by gesticulating exaggeratedly. he takes a sip of his coke, disguising his desperation.

"enzo," his name on your lips comes out as a plea. everything hits you at once. the awareness of his feelings, the awareness of yours. he shakes his head negatively and lets go of your hand.

"it's okay, you don't have to try to comfort me and tell me we're friends, i know. i've accepted it." enzo rushes over, running his hands through his hair, nervous.

"enzo," you tell him, firmer now. "why didn't you tell me before? why didn't you take me on a date before?".

he seems to be choking on his own breath, his nostrils flaring and his chest rising and falling rapidly. enzo looks at you with a mixture of surprise and disbelief. his eyes search yours, as if trying to read your expression and understand if those words were real. how can someone know you so well and not have a fucking clue?

"because i... i didn't know how. it was always easier to be your friend. to stay in the comfort of not risking too much. not to feel the rejection. taking you on a date seemed to cross some invisible line, and i was afraid of messing it all up".

he hid his face in his hands, laughing to himself. enzo looked on the verge of collapse, frightened. you had never seen him like this. you quickly got up, sitting down in the chair next to him, quietly touching his wrists.

"how stupid you are," you state, laughing. he looks at you with an offended and confused expression. "you really haven't noticed all this time?".

your best friend's face fills with something akin to expectation and dread. expecting the fatal blow at any moment.

"wait, you mean... that you..." he starts to stammer, but you interrupt him with a smile.

"yes, enzo. me too" your confession makes his face light up and then he blushes. was he really 30 years old? because you were making him feel like a kid.

"i never thought..." he murmurs, and you complete the sentence.

"that i could feel the same way? well, now you know. it was obvious." you laugh, moving a little closer to him. "how could i not fall in love with you?".

enzo feels your whisper on his lips, sending shivers down his spine. your warm breath mingles with his, uncertainty hovering between the two of you, unfamiliar territory to traverse. enzo's gaze examines your face, searching for any trace of indecision, but he doesn't find it, and then his eyes drop to your mouth.

"if only you'd let me show you all this sooner," he whispers too, as one of his hands, large and warm, rests on her thigh, under the thin fabric of her dress, and the other rests behind the back of her chair.

"you still have time"

and with your confession, it's as if he loses control. his pupils, darker and dilated now, are the last thing you see before you feel soft lips against yours. your breath is suddenly cut off and a shock runs through your body, shutting down your entire nervous system for milliseconds. he kisses you eagerly, as if making up for all the other opportunities he'd missed. the hand behind your shoulder moves quickly to the back of your neck and a gasp escapes you. his mouth tastes sweet, like cola and lemon mixed with his own flavor.

enzo can barely contain himself, the rest of the world ceases to exist when your tongue passes over his lips, as if asking for permission, and he almost rolls his eyes at the sensation. god, how he had dreamed of that. he had replayed it in his mind a million times and then blamed himself for it. he shook off the thoughts when he felt your fingers run over his scalp, while your other hand gently stroked his cheek. as if a tornado of emotions wasn't going on inside him at that moment. everything that had happened so far made this moment worth it.

after almost five minutes, the real world seems to return, as does the need for oxygen, useless, in enzo's perception. the sounds of the street echo in his ears again, everything slowly makes sense again. the world stops spinning as you look at each other with wide, goofy smiles on your faces. you bring your finger to the corner of enzo's lips, carefully wiping away the traces of lipstick. it makes him want to ruin the rest that remains on your beautifully delineated lips.

"so, what do we do now?" you ask, still a little limp, trying not to laugh. the feeling of kissing your best friend, something that had crossed your mind a million times before, seemed far away. in fact, it was something much better than you could have dreamed of.

"i suppose we could start with a first date," enzo suggests, feigning some nonchalance, shaking his shoulders. his fingers wander over your face, brushing aside a few strands of hair over your eyes. it's so sweet and peaceful that you want to treasure just that moment among all the others.

for the rest of the night, you eat that cold pizza like it's the best you've ever eaten. the rest of the dinner goes naturally, lightly, with kisses and sighs, conversations and confessions, like everything you needed. like everything was finally in place. a millennial alignment. it was so easy to be there, next to him, no need for masks or disguises, to be in front of him was to be able to see yourself from the inside out. without hiding anything, without any desire to run away. completely immersed in each other. it was like dreaming half awake. it was just perfect.

there were uncertainties, saved for the distant future, it was terrifying to lose that connection you had. but maybe it wasn't the right way, maybe it was unforeseen and completely chaotic, but it was the best and last first date of your life.

for my girlies who asked me to translate it, i hope you enjoyed <3

#enzo vogrincic #enzo vogrincic fanfic #enzo vogrincic x reader #enzo vogrincic fluff

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thisgirlnamedblusy · 1 month ago

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Hallo! Hope you're doing good!

I can’t remember if you've ever written something like this, but check this out:

What if there’s a story where reader and Donna start dating, but reader's dealing with her abusive parents? Donna knows about it too, but isn’t clued into how bad and serious it really is. One day, reader shows up to see and spend time with Donna and has some marks on her body. When Donna sees them, she gets super angry, but reader brushes it off and calms her down.

Then later, they get into an argument, and Donna raises her voice, which triggers the reader. She tries to hold it together, but when Donna gets closer and reaches for her own hair, the reader flinches, thinking she’s about to hit her. This sets off her PTSD.

In the end, Donna calms her down and suggests that the reader should move in with her.

Thank you:)

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

Save me

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Angst, mentions of abuse

Word count: 6,835

Summary: Sometimes life is like hell to you...

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

Normally, it didn't take you that long to leave the house. It was just another procedure, going out the door, promising that you'd be back soon... For an 18-year-old girl like you, none of those simple tasks should be difficult.

But, even if you were really just another villager, nothing special, your family was.

It's not that you were a rebellious girl, you never were. You were always an obedient girl, devoted to Mother Miranda like any of the villagers. You didn't disobey, you didn't protest... You couldn't do it either.

The Black Gods were merciful, or so they said, although with you... With you, they were too unfair. Every day, all you heard were screams, unfair scolding. Your body didn't receive hugs, caresses, not even your ears could relax with some soft words of support, some that should come from the two people who gave you life.

Your parents weren't like the others. Maybe at first, in the innocence of your childhood, you thought that way, that severity could be beneficial for your future, but as you grew up, you realized you were wrong.

The blows were common, the screams were routine. No matter what you did, for them, you did everything wrong, you did everything to anger them.

It could be a good reason to try to escape from that village, so the Black Gods would stop laughing at you, but it wasn't. No one could leave that place. No one was going to protect you. Your life was already written in indelible ink.

You could only do what many of your friends did to run away from their homes (although due to reasons less logical than yours). You could work at Dimitrescu Castle as a maid, but you thought yourself so useless, you thought yourself so stupid that you didn't even try.

If severity served to achieve a better future... Where was yours? The screams, the beatings, made you start to believe those unfair words, that you weren’t a worthy daughter, that you would never be one.

However, you had another option, the worst of all. You could throw away your principles, the interest you always had for women, and marry one of those brainless peasants. Yes, that way you could leave that house but you didn't know what was waiting on the other side. You could improve, form an unwanted family and forget about your past but, besides the fact that you would never be able to escape from your parents... How could you know if that boy wasn't the same, or even worse than them?

There was no way out and the idea of a loveless marriage wasn’t in your plans.

You thought that maybe you didn't deserve to live, that this horrible treatment was the direct consequence of offending the Gods. Darkness no longer belonged only to the village, it had taken over you.

Giving up was easy, the coward's way, but you didn't see that you had any other option. The Gods apparently noticed that change, that apathy, the bottomless precipice that your life was heading towards. To them, to Mother Miranda, to the Lords, you were just caged animals that had to accept their fate, no matter how terrible it was.

But suddenly, your life changed, the Gods played with you, making it worthwhile to continue listening to screams.

The youngest one, the mysterious lady in black who was barely a shadow to the villagers, Donna Beneviento, found something in you that forced her to come closer.

Maybe it was your tireless prayers for those dark deities to release you from your suffering, maybe it was the beauty you were born with, the desire to have fun with you that someone like her could have.

It wasn't like that. The lady in black didn't come over to play, she didn't scold you for your eternal tears, for your pleas, she just stayed watching you, like a bad omen, like a harbinger of darkness.

Little by little that routine was repeated, always in the same place, always at the same time. Your tears stopped running down your cheeks. For some reason, you wanted her to see you in a different way, to not be the sad and hurt girl you used to be. Her silent presence somehow calmed your laments. You had lived through too many horrible things to be afraid of her.

According to her, that was what caught her attention. Your lack of fear, your apathy, your relaxed way of seeing her presence, of feeling that she was close, were the reasons that pushed Lady Beneviento to come even closer, to ask your name and what was the reason for your constant prayers.

What at first seemed like a curious approach stopped being so. The old chapel stopped being your meeting place. And there were no prayers, no supplications, no tears, just something strange that happened on your face every time you met Donna and her doll, something that you started to do without realizing it: smile.

Smiles, conversations, even funny moments thanks to the Angie doll… All of that became your new motivation to come home every night, to endure the screams, the beatings, to wish for a new day to come, and to be able to see her.

Her beauty surprised you, her beauty lacking that horrible black veil, her bright eye, the face of a wounded and sick woman but that emanated pure beauty, emanated that feeling you also had, love.

Your first kiss was one more sign that someone or something had heard your pleas. She loved you, you loved her. There was nothing that could make you happier at that moment, the moment when the lady shyly confessed her feelings, confessed that she didn't see a friend in you, that she saw the woman of her life.

Sobbing, you walked through the forest, on your way to the old estate, like every day, and, like every day, you had to deal with the hell that was your home. Going through hell to get to heaven… It was a rather poetic way of looking at it.

Of course, your parents never knew and they never would, hopefully. She was a Lord, but… But you belonged to them. Telling the truth about the reason for your daily escapades would only trigger more blows.

“D-Donna?” you asked timidly, wiping away your last tears, erasing from your mind your father's screams, your mother's scorn.

“Oh, (Y/N),” the Lord's hoarse and soft voice had become a magic eraser for all your suffering, along with the elegant sound of her heels on the wooden floor.

The movement of the lady's black dress was always a hypnotic dance, one that forced your corners of your mouth to rise mercilessly.

“H-Hi,” you stammered with a smile that faded when you looked at her face, one that wasn’t like every day, she seemed worried.

“Tesoro…” she sighed, slowly approaching and cupping your face in her hands. “Amore mio… I thought, I thought you wouldn't come anymore,” she whispered, kissing you softly, showing you the reason for that unusual expression. “That you would have forgotten about me.”

The contact of her soft lips sent reassuring signals to your entire body, letting it relax in her arms, with her constant caresses.

“I could never forget you, Donna,” you sighed, burying your head in the black fabric of her dress, letting her chest serve as support, as a balm for the memories of the screams just a moment ago. “Sorry for being late.”

“W-Well, the important thing is that you came,” she said, with the smile that made you fall in love, one that was for you, exclusively for you.

You nodded slowly, hugging the lady and closing your eyes, causing your ears to be distracted by a shy laugh that emerged from her lips as she pushed you away.

“Aren't you saying hello to me?” a different, higher-pitched voice caught your attention.

Of course, the Angie doll also seemed happy about your presence, she was even annoyed that you were running to her owner and not playing with her.

“Sure, hello, Angie,” you said, bending down to be at the height of the doll, who kindly hugged you quickly with an evil laugh.

“Do you want to play?” the puppet asked, always used to having a fun time with you, or with both of you, if possible.

Seeing her owner smile again seemed like enough reason to stop making fun of you like at the beginning but… Somehow you started to think if that doll was more aware of your situation than Donna.

“No, today, today I wanted to be with Donna,” you said softly, getting up to find yourself again with the protective arms of the lady in black, who didn't waste a moment to have you as close as possible.

“How boring,” Angie protested, crossing her arms, but suddenly changing her attitude, climbing up your body in a comical way.

“Angie, lasciala estare…” the lady murmured, picking up the puppet, who had hooked herself onto your body, watching you from close, very close.

“Hey, you! Why are you crying?” the doll asked, being dragged away from you by her owner. “Donna, Donna, the fool is crying again.”

Just as you suspected, that doll saw much further than Donna could do.

Lady Beneviento was a sick woman, horribly jealous and possessive. The circumstances of your delay didn't matter to her. The furrows on your cheeks didn't attract her attention. What she valued was only that you had returned, that you hadn't forgotten her.

You knew her past, her sad and almost eternal loneliness. That cold and perhaps slightly dark appearance wasn't an impediment to your heart melting for her, rather it was an advantage. You knew that Donna would do anything for you, if she saw you crying... You didn't know how she would react.

“Oh, no, it's nothing,” you said with a fake smile, wiping your face clumsily, making the trace of those salty tears disappear.

“It's true, tesoro,” Donna said, frowning and coming closer again, gently removing your hand from your face. “(Y/N), you’ve cried…”

“Oh, it's nothing, really, I've had a bad day,” you lied, downplaying it with a fake shine in your eyes.

“Mm,” she murmured, with a distrustful look, lifting your chin. “You argued with your parents again, right?” she asked with a soft, understanding voice, accentuating her concern with a gentle caress on your hair.

“Y-Yes,” you stammered, lowering your head, embarrassedly allowing a discreet tear to fall on the brunette's hand. “That's why it took me a bit longer.”

Donna sighed, softly kissing your cheek, brushing away with her lips the trace that your mother's slap left on your skin, the internal pain you endured.

“You argue a lot with them,” she commented, taking your hand and guiding you through the mansion.

Her voice sounded sweet, but in her words you could notice an accent that was perhaps more marked than usual. Those small subtle changes were signs, they were ways that Donna had of unintentionally showing an incipient concern, a concern that you wanted to get out of her mind.

“Yes, well, like all parents with their children, I guess,” you said with a sweet look, one that you had spent a lot of time rehearsing.

“Mm,” Donna murmured, pointing to a sofa for you to sit on. “My parents also scolded me sometimes.”

“Really?” you asked curiously, trying to identify your girlfriend's apparent concern, one that was becoming more and more evident. “I-I thought you were a good girl.”

“Yes, the truth is that I used to obey my parents but… Well, you know, kid stuff, I guess,” she explained in a relaxed tone. “Sometimes I couldn't help but get a scolding from my father for stealing materials to make my own dolls.”

You laughed amused, imagining that endearing scene in your head.

“But... I-I don't understand why a girl like you could get into trouble enough to be constantly arguing, (Y/N). Sometimes I think you're hiding something from me,” she said next, cooling her gaze, searching for something in yours, something she couldn't fully understand.

“What? Oh, no, no. I would never hide anything from you, Donna,” you said, knowing that you were lying, that the fear of retaliation from your family was always present even though they weren't. “They're just very strict.”

“Then I suppose you won't have any problem talking to me about the reason for the argument,” she said with a serious tone, with an attentive look, waiting for a rational explanation and not the usual lies.

“Well, I...” you began, moving away, with your father's screams resonating in your head, the questions, the accusations they made every time you left the house to see your girlfriend. “T-They don't really like me leaving the house.”

The lady in black arched her eyebrow and blinked in confusion, nodding for you to continue.

“They think, they think I'm dating someone,” you continued, looking away at the wooden floor, controlling the fear in your hands, your only defense against their physical attacks. “You know.”

“Well, that's true,” Donna said with a smile, moving closer to kiss you softly, something that made Angie protest, eliciting a soft laugh from your lips.

“Ugh,” the doll complained.

“What's their problem with that?” Donna asked, ignoring the doll's grumbling and taking your hand. “You're not a child.”

“Yes, I know, but…” you murmured, noticing how your body began to tremble, how all your fears materialized in an irrational way. “It doesn't matter, Donna, they are like that way.”

“What way?” the brunette insisted, with an impatient voice, one that demanded a firm and confident answer, one you didn't have. “(Y/N) stop lying to me, you're hiding something from me.”

“I've already told I’m not,” you said with a gruff voice, perhaps a bit raised in tone. “Besides, I didn't come to talk about my parents, I came to be with you.”

“Don't talk to me like that,” the lady growled, annoyed with your attitude. “I just want to know why every time you come to this house you're crying.”

“You wouldn't understand,” you said in a whisper, looking away again.

“Do they hurt you?” she asked in a different tone.

You should have known that someone like Donna wasn't easy to fool, but you decided to continue with the lie. You were trash, trash didn't deserve to be worried about it.

“No,” you said in a fake voice, with a tone that made the lady sigh and caress your hand harder.

“Mm,” she murmured, moving away and kissing the back of your hand. “I would never allow anyone to hurt you, you know that, right?”

“I know, Donna, but, but you're worrying too much. My parents are strict and that's it. I understand that they worry about their only daughter and that... Well, that they want who I'm dating.”

“There's a very simple solution to that, tesoro, just tell them,” Donna commented, nodding. “I'm convinced that if they know you're with me, they'll leave you alone.”

“No!” you suddenly shouted, waving your arms. “N-No, they, they can't know.”

“Why? Are you ashamed of me?” she asked, with a different look, offended. It was definitely not a good day.

You hissed, shaking your head. Poor Donna had many problems, many insecurities that complicated your relationship. You didn't make a great effort to act better, to make her see the reality of your situation. You knew that wouldn't bring anything good.

“No, Donna, I'm not ashamed of you,” you said with a dark tone. “But they are very... Very traditional. They would never allow me to be with a woman.”

“Sciocchezze,” she murmured, taking the hand you withdrew. “I’m a Lord, what they think doesn't matter. What I say and how I say it will be done, by the glory of Mother Miranda, do you understand?”

“I wish it were that simple,” you sighed, managing to hide a tear that fell down your face once again.

“It is for me, why it isn’t for you?” she asked again, relaxing her nervous voice, analyzing your face while her hands caressed it, removing from it the damage it always suffered.

“I don't know, Donna,” you said with a sob, something that made the brunette move away, changing her stern face for a soft one.

“Shh, amore mio… don't cry, I didn't mean… Oh, please, come, come here, hug me, tesoro,” the lady said with a sweet voice, pulling your body to lean on hers, so you could enjoy that ephemeral protection. “Forgive me, (Y/N), I didn't mean to talk to you like that.”

“I've, I've had a bad day, that's all,” you said against her clothes, swinging next to her in a silent embrace.

“Well, calm down, you're with me now,” she said, kissing you softly, wiping those tireless tears from your face. “Let's forget it, okay? Let's enjoy our time together.”

The tension finally dissipated, regaining some of the lady in black's sanity, leaving her uncomfortable questions aside and making you spend, as always, one of the best days of your life.

A quiet meal, a moment of reading together, a walk around the grounds. Little things that blurred your fears, that clouded your sense of time and space, something that wasn’t good at all, for you.

The clock struck the hour, just when those kisses and caresses were starting to get out of hand. You had never done anything further from pure innocent affection, and of course, making love to Donna was on your long list of pending wishes, but it was never possible.

Time wasn’t your ally, it wasn’t your friend. It was your worst enemy. That tangle of messy kisses, of naughty hands under your clothes, made you forget what time it was, what time of day it was. You hadn't come home for dinner. You hadn't come back on time and that would have consequences.

The lady in black was always understanding. Her carnal instincts to possess you were always blurred by your worried face, by your sudden escapes. At first it was a game, you were a kind of Cinderella who had to return before midnight, but, little by little, Donna's sighs betrayed more impatience.

Surely it had nothing to do with sex, surely what Donna saw, but at the same time was unable to find out, was your atrocious fear of returning to hell, to your home.

There were no lights in the old cabin. There was no trace of your tormentors. It could be that they had fallen asleep, that they had grown tired of waiting for you. That illusion made you smile, walking in the dark, with stealthy steps, to your room. You weren’t aware that danger always lurked around the corners of that house, always.

“Young lady…” your father's slurred voice stopped you in your tracks, making you freeze. “May I know where you're coming from?”

“Father,” you said with a sigh, lowering your head. “I've just been with my friends.”

“With your friends…” the man growled, finishing his glass of wine, getting up from the armchair where he was waiting for you, like a beast lurking in the dark. “Liar!”

“F-Father…” you muttered nervously, unable to move from the spot. “Father, please.”

“What the fuck have you been doing?” he hissed, suddenly grabbing you by your hair, pulling it back. “You're not fooling me, (Y/N), I know what you're doing…”

“I-I'm not doing anything, father, I swear…”

“Silence!” he shouted. “You're three hours late, young lady, your mother was waiting for you for dinner and how do you thank her? Disregarding her work,” he snapped at you, pulling your hair harder.

“I didn't mean to be late, I'm, I'm sorry,” you begged, hissing in pain, something that never worked for you, nor would it work on this occasion. “Father, let me go.”

“You're a bitch! You're probably fucking someone, aren't you? A whore like you is what she does…” he hissed, throwing you to the floor with a push.

“No, father…” you whispered in an inaudible voice, protecting your face with your hands.

“You're a disgrace! Do you want to be the village whore? Let some idiot get you pregnant? Be a single mother?” the man asked, bending down threateningly while you shook your head.

“No…” you said in a darker tone, much more dangerous than usual. A terrible idea. “You have no idea, father.”

“Do you dare to face me?” he asked, laughing mockingly. “Agatha! Hold this brat! She needs to learn a lesson…”

Your mother obeyed and the beatings began.

Your screams didn't matter, your protests weren't heard. Pain, humiliation, crying… It was all you could feel at that moment. Every kick, every blow acted mercilessly in your mind, erasing each of Donna's kisses, the softness of her hands on your skin, her words of love clouded with each of the lashes on your body.

It was always the same, always the shadows eclipsing your light. Every night you cried, you begged to get out of that place, and every night it was harder to do so. Donna would always wait for you the next day, she would always refresh your memories, make your pain disappear.

Could you endure a life in hell? Could you live misfortunes every day just for the reward of spending a few hours in paradise?

Over time, those questions stopped having answers.

The next day, the demon was still in your life, your tormentors were waiting for you to serve them like every day. Your whole body hurt, the marks of the blows stood out on your body, on your face.

Even though, as always, you were going to leave your hellish life for a moment, looking in the mirror, reality fell on your shoulders again.

Donna didn't deserve that concern, that feeling of guilt for something she wasn't guilty of. She couldn't see you like that, she simply couldn't.

She would surely be angry with you for not having let her know the harsh reality of your problems. She could take it personally at best. At worst, she would simply despise you. She would see you as a coward incapable of facing your weak mother and an alcoholic beast.

You couldn't take the risk, you couldn't put at risk the little happiness was in your life. You had to keep quiet, silence your problems, hide them, cover them up…

Taking the meaning of that phrase literally, you decided to paint your wounds with makeup, hide your bruises, your misfortunes. You didn't want your life to revolve around your problems, Donna's smile was the only reason you didn't give up, and you didn't plan on giving up on her.

Luckily, leaving the house was easy that day. Neither your father nor your mother seemed to want to interrupt you. Your body was totally sore. They surely believed that you wouldn't get far. After all, who would want to play with a broken toy?

“Ciao, tesoro,” the lady said, opening the door when you knocked, granting your lips the grace of a soft kiss, a strange caress on your face.

Your body trembled, suffering the pain of her soft hand from your hidden but silent blows. She would never notice, but even so, her face became thoughtful.

“I notice you look different today, (Y/N),” she said in a soft voice, guiding you into the mansion, enjoying the contact with your skin, one terribly painful, but that you managed to hide.

“Oh, well... I wanted, I wanted to be pretty for you,” you said blushing when the lady ran a hand over your made-up cheek, frowning. “Do you like it?”

“Mm, I like how you are, you don't need that absurd makeup to come here,” she said, laughing amused and grabbing your waist, a serious mistake. Your father's blows had reached that point and they hurt, they hurt terribly.

You couldn't help but writhe in pain at the contact, emitting a slight hiss that Donna, of course, didn't overlook.

“Are you okay?” she asked worriedly, looking at the place she had touched, playing with your clothes. “What is it that...?”

“Yes, yes, yes, I'm fine,” you said hastily before the woman in black lifted your shirt to reveal the marks of torture. “I just have… Gas.”

“Gas,” the lady repeated with a distrustful voice, moving her hand away, luckily.

“Yes, um… I think, I think I ate too much yesterday,” you said, pretending an amused and embarrassed voice.

“Ha, you fart girl!” Angie shrieked, pointing at you mockingly.

“Angie…” Donna whispered, shaking her head. “Amore mio, can I do something for you?”

Get me out of this hell…

“No, no, it'll pass,” you said, downplaying it, guiding her hand to surround your waist again in a place your father hadn't marked.

“I can make you some tea, I'm sure it’s going to be good,” Donna said kindly, rubbing your belly in a motherly way.

You nodded with a genuine smile, stealing a quick kiss on her cheek.

“Stupid mortals…” Angie commented, walking with you to the living room. “Does your stomach hurt, silly?”

“Yes,” you said amused, sitting down when the lady walked away to prepare your tea with a smile. “You don't know what that is… It hurts a lot.”

“I don't want to know,” Angie said amused, getting off the couch and looking for a deck of cards. “Cards?”

“Oh, um, okay…” you sighed, shifting uncomfortably on the couch. Every time you did, your wounds burned, reminding you of that horrible night, making you unable to enjoy the time you had with your beloved.

“Uh… Your stomach isn't there, silly,” Angie said with a suspicious tone, pointing at your hand, which unconsciously went to your side with a hiss. “Come on, spit it out, what are you hiding?”

“Nothing, I'm not hiding anything,” you said with a firm voice. “I'm just tired, that's all,” you explained, taking the deck with your aching arms. “What do you want to play?”

“Mm, I don't know,” the doll said, sitting at the coffee table, with a slightly different tone, lacking the usual irreverence. “Let me give you some advice, (Y/N)…” she whispered in a soft tone, looking at the elevator hallway in case Donna appeared.

“What advice?” you asked shuffling those cards, leaving your mind free of pain, or trying to, at least.

“Donna hates being lied to, silly. Just keep pretending that nothing is happening, and you'll see…” Angie commented, making your heart stop.

“What do you mean?” you asked, nervous, shifting uncomfortably on the couch. “Angie, I… I don't know what…”

“Stop taking us for fools, you silly villager… You can pretend all you want but… How much makeup will you need next time?” Angie said, leaving you petrified again. “You're stupid, (Y/N), Donna may be stupid enough not to know what's going on here, but I'm not.”

“What…? What do you think is going on?” you asked in a fearful whisper, the cards shaking in your hand.

“Someone is hurting you,” Angie said. “Donna doesn't like you being hurt.”

“No, Angie, you're, you're wrong…” you said sighing, incredulous at her accurate accusation. “What makes you think that?”

“It's not the first time I've seen something like that in a villager like you. Donna never notices those details because she's stupid, but I do, I see, you know?”

“You're wrong,” you said with a shaky voice, dealing the cards the best way you could.

“Really? What if we take a look?” the doll said, lunging towards you to lift your shirt, something you immediately prevented.

“Stop, Angie, please,” you protested.

“Angie, basta,” Donna said, saving you from the undeniable revelation, the discovery that the doll was right, mysteriously right...

“But Donna, (Y/N)...” the doll protested, pointing at you effusively. “Listen to me, Donna, she...”

“Go away, leave us alone, don't you realize she's sick?” the lady said, taking the doll down from the table as she kicked furiously. “Leave her alone, come on, get out.”

“Silly Donna,” she hissed already on the floor, crossing her arms and walking out of the little corner.

“What's wrong with her? Did she lose again?” the lady asked, carefully serving you a cup of tea, with an amused smile.

“I don't know,” you said faking a smile, reaching out your hand towards the offered cup. “Thank you, my love…”

“Drink slowly, it's very hot,” she said kindly, guiding your hand to rise to your mouth.

“It's very good,” you said with a smile, pleased by the bitter and smooth taste of the tea.

“Mm,” she murmured with a smile, looking at you intently, as if there was something that didn't fit for her. “But what have you done? What a mess.”

“What?” you asked confused as she came a little closer, looking at your face carefully.

“Tesoro, if you don't know how to put on makeup, don't do it for me, look at how you've put on, let me help you” she said, pointing at one of your excessively made-up cheeks.

“No, no, it's, it's okay, Donna. I like it,” you said, moving away the hand that wanted to spread that layer of makeup better, grabbing her wrist.

Donna frowned, shaking her head.

“Don't talk nonsense, I have dolls with much less makeup than you,” she said, insisting on fixing your makeup. “I'm not an expert but... Come, I'll show you how to do it properly.”

“W-Wait,” you said, staying seated on the couch while she pulled your wrist to get you up. “L-let me finish my tea.”

“No, I can't stand seeing you like this, you look like a slut,” she commented with an unpleasant tone, pulling you even harder.

“Do I look like a…?” you repeated with a trembling hand. “I'm not a slut.”

“I know, but,” Donna said, pulling you harder, managing to lift you up. “But let me take that off, your skin is beautiful just the way it is.”

“No, it's not,” you said with a nervous, abrupt voice, one that alerted the lady. “Leave me alone, Donna.”

“I just want to help you, (Y/N),” the brunette insisted, with her hands shaking too.

“I said no!” you shrieked, echoing off the old walls of the mansion, leaving the lady in black glued to the floor. “Leave me alone! If I look like a slut like this, then fine, I don't care! I like it! So leave me alone, Donna!”

You couldn't stand the tension any longer, it was too much. Knowing that Angie knew about your problems made your nerves difficult, almost impossible to control. You should have already known that it was a bad idea to yell at poor Donna, that it would trigger a terrible crisis, but it was too late to take it back.

“W-Why are you yelling at me?” she asked, frowning, blinking in confusion, slowly moving away. “D-Don't yell at me, please…”

“Donna, I'm, I'm sorry,” you said regretfully.

Donna's crises were usually random. They used to come out of nowhere, like a horrible curse. But they could also be triggered by anything, by a misinterpreted word, by a comment, by screams like yours, lacking sense.

When you realized your mistake, it was too late. The lady in black was breathing heavily, staring at the floor.

“Donna, honey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you, I, I just…” you stammered, putting your hands on her shoulders.

“You don't love me...” she whispered, with a cold, dark look, one that pierced your aching heart. “You don't love me!”

“What? No, honey, don't say that... It was just, it was just a mistake and... Donna, don't lose your mind, please,” you said nervously, seeing how madness took over her gaze irremediably.

“You don't love me... You don't love me... Nobody loves me!” she screamed madly, pushing your hands away with a movement that caused more pain in your blows and an emerging fear in your nervous system.

“D-Donna, don't say that, I, I love you…” you whispered, approaching cautiously, trying to escape from her spasmodic movements, seeing how little by little her presence generated an unknown fear in you.

“You’re lying! Porca miseria!” she shrieked again, kicking the coffee table, knocking over the cups on it, breaking into a thousand pieces. “You're a liar…”

That last hiss made you step back scared. For the first time that crisis wasn't horrible memories, traumas from the past. You were the cause and you didn't know what the consequences could be, but your mind was already working on imagining them.

“I-I'm not lying,” you whispered in a weak, horrified tone, one that didn't calm the lady's nerves, who approached you angrily, grabbing you by the collar of your shirt.

“You don't love me, I disgust you…” she hissed, swinging you threateningly but suddenly letting go, holding her hair tightly, complaining of an invisible pain. “Ah! No! Taci! Taci!”

Your eyes betrayed you. Her hands pulled at her hair as she shook her head. In a moment, her insane eye met yours, with a look that you mistook.

It wasn't the face of your beloved, of your girlfriend, of the woman who was the most important thing in your life. That bright rage in her eye belonged to your father, that alcoholic and deranged man. Fear rose through your body, paralyzing it, forcing it to only tremble in panic.

You began to run out of air, your heart was beating too fast. You were completely terrified.

“(Y/N)…” Donna hissed, reaching out an arm towards you.

You, seeing your father raise his hand to hit you, pulled away from her grip, running desperately in search of a place to take refuge. Sanity immediately abandoned you and you could only feel panic and terror.

“Don’t, don't hurt me!” you screamed while crying, while you took refuge in a nearby corner, covering your face defensively with your hands. “Don't hit me, please...”

The lady didn't answer but you could hear her saying things you didn't understand, fighting with herself. When that fight ended, you knew you would be next, that you would receive a well-deserved punishment for your insolence.

“Please...” you begged, closing your eyes, bringing your knees to your chest, waiting for the strong blow that never came.

“Donna, Donna!” Angie's screams sounded blurry in your mind, but you could hear them. “Bad Donna, stupid Donna! Oh, oh, eh, eh, don't do that, don't do that!”

“Angie...!” the lady screamed, crying inconsolably. “Angie…”

“Hey, hey, come on, it's all over, my Donna, nobody wants to hurt you, nobody insults you… I'm here with you… (Y/N) is… Where is she?” she finally asked.

“(Y/N)…” Donna sighed, catching her breath with a scared voice. “(Y/N)?”

“Did you hurt her, silly Donna?” Angie asked, locating you immediately and running towards you. “Bad, bad Donna!”

“W-What…? N-No…” the lady stammered, with a much calmer voice.

Fortunately, the crises passed quickly, almost always due to your words, your hugs, or the infinite affection of her doll.

“(Y/N),” the lady sighed, crouching before you, gently pushing your hands away. “Amore mio…”

“No! No please! Don't hurt me, please!” you screamed, frantically, thrashing around in place and fighting her grip. “Don’t hit me anymore!”

“Did you hit her?” Angie asked, crossing her arms.

“Of course I didn’t, I don’t think so,” she said, fighting against your spasms, against your illogical attempts to escape. “(Y/N), please…”

“I promise I’ll be good, father!” you screamed, even smelling the stale wine he was drinking. “Don’t hit me…!”

“Father?” Donna asked, letting your wrists go and forcing you to look at her.

Your face was covered in tears of terror that, unfortunately, took some of your makeup away.

“(Y/N), please react, it’s me… Tesoro, I would never hurt you, please look at me, look…” the lady stopped when her eye passed over your wounded cheek, making you blink in confusion as her hand caressed your wound. “Mio Dio…”

“No…” you sighed, crying harder, without removing the softness of her hand from your wounded cheek, burning from the touch. “No…”

“Who did…?” she asked with a broken voice, putting her hands on your shoulders. “(Y/N), look at me, who did this to you?”

“Nobody,” you answered, burying your head between your legs again, pushing the brunette away with an unpleasant push. “Nobody!”

“Donna, Donna, the shirt, lift the shirt…” Angie whispered, pulling the dress, jumping slightly on the floor. “The shirt, the shirt.”

“Cosa?” she asked confused, kneeling on the floor and bringing her hand to your side, slowly lifting your clothes, gasping in horror when she noticed the horrible marks on your skin, the bruises, your wounds... “(Y/N)…”

You didn't answer. You simply writhed in pain at her cautious touch, shaking your head.

“(Y/N)!” the enraged lady shrieked, abruptly lifting your chin. “Look at me!”

You, fearing retaliation, obeyed. Your face was torn by tears, but hers seemed serious, serene, far removed from the previous crisis.

“It was them, wasn't it?” she asked in a dull, cold tone, with an intense look. “Your parents, they did this to you.”

“N-No, I…” you stammered, shaking your head awkwardly.

“You just confirmed it to me,” Donna sighed, taking one of your hands and caressing it gently. “Gods, (Y/N), how long have you been like this?”

“S-Since I can remember,” you finally confessed. There was no more reason to keep lying. It was the moment of truth.

“Mm,” she murmured, with apparent disinterest. “Angie, stay here with her. Don't, let her out of your sight, is that clear?”

“Yes, ma'am,” the doll said, standing beside you, watching you cautiously.

“W-Where are you going?” you asked confused when you saw the woman stand up and shake off her dress, walking towards the drawer where she kept her veil. “Donna?”

“This ends here and now, (Y/N),” she said in a dark voice, hiding her face. “They won't hurt you again, ever again.”

Her voice betrayed her intentions, ones you noticed, ones that horrified you. You didn't know if it was false devotion or some kind of illness, but imagining your parents suffering Beneviento's wrath made your stomach turn, forcing you to get up and run after her.

“No, Donna, wait!” you screamed, grabbing her arm tightly, something she prevented you from doing by moving in an unpleasant way.

“Lasciami!” she shouted furiously, gently pushing you by the shoulders. “Stay here, (Y/N)”

“N-No… What, what, what are you going to do?” you asked scared. “Donna, wait…”

“Stay here,” the lady repeated, opening the door of the mansion. “Obey.”

“No! You will kill them!” you screamed, making her miraculously stop and sigh, nodding slowly.

“Yes, I'm going to kill them,” she said without remorse. “Stay here.”

“No, Donna, please no,” you said desperately, running back to her side, grabbing her by the waist. The lady in black protested again, using your blows to make you move away of your own free will. “Don’t kill them…”

“Are you asking me to let the one who hurts you live? Is that what you’re asking me!?” she screamed angrily, clenching her fists on either side of her hips.

“Please,” you sobbed, unable to reason with her anger, with her desire for revenge. No, them dying wasn’t justice, it couldn’t be. You were better than them, and you knew it. “Please, I beg you…”

“No, (Y/N),” she said, watching you kneel down, pathetically crawling towards her. “I have to protect you, otherwise, I wouldn’t have the right to love you.”

“Don’t do it, please, Donna, don’t kill them… Please…” you said, humiliating yourself even more, grabbing her legs so she couldn’t take another step.

“(Y/N), stop… Ugh, cazzo, (Y/N)…” the lady protested, kicking for you to let her go. “I won't let those beasts hurt you anymore.”

“Please…” you sobbed again, letting yourself fall on the floor. “If they die, I'll be like them… I don't want you… I don't want you to do something that horrible, please… Don't do it…” you said with an even more pitiful sob.

Luckily, Donna closed the door with a sigh, lifting you off the floor and pressing you against her, letting the crying drown in her dress.

“Not you, please, Donna… I don't want you to be like them…” you said against the fabric while her arms surrounded you lovingly. “Please…”

“Shhh, stop, (Y/N),” she whispered to you lovingly, in a different tone, pushing the veil away from her face and cupping yours in her hands. “It’s okay…”

“Donna…” you sighed, grabbing the hands that held your wounded face. “Donna, I’m, I’m scared…”

“I know… I know, tesoro… But don’t worry, it’s all over now,” she said, cradling you gently. “It’s all over now, amore mio… You’re with me… And you always will be…”

“I can’t take it anymore…”

“You won’t have to. You won’t go back to that house, (Y/N). You’ll stay with me, forever. I’ll protect you. No one will hurt you again, I promise…”

#donna beneviento #donna beneviento x reader #oneshot #re8 donna #re8 village #requests

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partycatty · 8 months ago

Note

You're my favorite writer and I'm a Sucker for Johnny Cage x Himself from Mk11.... please?

okay, so lovingly, i don't feel comfortable directly writing johnny x himself... but i can do you one better?

johnny cage > two for one

the timelines collapse, leaving you in the face of new era and previous era johnny. you're not quite sure how you ended up in this situation, but their hungry stares are undeniable.

warnings: smut.. idk theyre frotting bro idk what else to say. ur rubbing their schmeats together. kissin tips. lockin cocks. diddlin dongs.

notes: THIS IS MK1 JOHNNY ("johnny") X MK11 YOUNGER JOHNNY ("cage") X READER!!! NO DILF HERE!!!

[ masterlist ]

a swirling tornado of sand interrupted your meeting with liu kang and his recruited earthrealmers, pulling into view several faces you had not met before. one of which being a man bearing a large chest tattoo of "JOHNNY," and you could only assume it was his name. as well as him came others you were later taught were counterparts to some of your companions, namely thunder god raiden, monk kung lao, and a mortal liu kang. a part of you was filled with dread for now knowing not one, but two johnnys.... johnnies? another part, though, was intrigued, if not horribly flustered.

as time went on, you had to spend more and more time around these newcomers as well as your people. your johnny was always clinging to you, or lingering near you but dear god this new johnny was like a lost puppy with a raging boner. his comments, flirtatious advances, and feather touches were driving you up a wall. he was testosterone humanized.

you couldn't deny that your johnny was dizzying in essence, from his charisma to the way his form hugs his clothes deliciously. but, dear lord, this new johnny was a hunk. he was huge in every way imaginable, and you tensed up when they were both in your presence. this all came to a head when you were attempting to work on your reports, but the alternate timeline johnny - the one in which you've started calling "cage" out of formality - couldn't keep his hands to himself. this particular instance, you were trying to inspect a map outstretched on the table, and cage was looming directly behind you, placing his hands on either side of you and effectively trapping you against the table. you tried so hard to ignore it, but his musk and faint cologne made your eyes gloss over with desire.

that is, until johnny strode over to the scene and ripped cage from your proximity, aiming an accusatory finger in his face.

"listen man," johnny was irritated, perhaps suspiciously more than normal. "lay off, yeah? she's trying to figure out how the hell we can send you back to whatever timeline you came from."

"don't you touch me," cage snarled in response, squaring up. he was only a couple inches taller than johnny, but his size was almost double. "i'm a star."

"and? so am i!" johnny shouts back with a groan. as the bickering picks up, you couldn't help but watch in amusement. but then, the insults become less funny when johnny grabs cage's purple sunglasses and stomps on them with a huff. cage frowns.

"ladies-" you interject, standing between the two brick walls of men. "you're both pretty." and so, the two men feel obligated to listen to you. you shoot a glance at johnny, silently scrutinizing his behavior. instead of just taking your scolding, johnny grabs you by your upper arm and drags you into a broom closet. god damn, they wore the same cologne. the closeness was nearly too much, combined with johnny's admittedly sexy scowl.

"why are you letting him manhandle you like that? you don't know him." johnny asks under his breath, towering over you as he holds your arms.

"what do you care?" you're almost offended at his tone, but then it all clicks. johnny's defensive of you, protective. hell, he's jealous... of himself. this realization makes a smile bloom on your face, and johnny immediately knows what you're beginning to understand.

who said you could only choose one of them?

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

all it took on cage's end was one sultry stare, and he was sauntering toward the broom closet and locking it behind him. it was incredibly hard to think straight when both men's hands were groping and grasping at your body. in any other universe, you'd be dazed and confused from seeing double, but in this universe you're heated and dizzy from the two hard-ons rubbing into your body. one clothed cock was fitted and gently rutting into your hand, being johnny's. his needy groans and pants were swallowed by your own mouth as you made out with his plush lips. cage settled for your ass, grinding against it with equally needy grunts and breaths that haunted the back of your neck. when you pulled away from the kiss, you noticed johnny's already fucked out expression, his swollen lips parted as he tries pathetically to catch his breath.

"pl... please," he breaths out, voice barely audible over your gentle whimpers and cage's groans. "you don't know how long i've wanted your mouth on my... fuck." his head lolls back as you wrap your fingers around his cock, feeling it throb and twitch hungrily.

"make us feel good, baby," cage grumbles, slapping the side of your thigh. "on your knees, come on." obeying like a dog, you drop to your knees with a harsh bump, but you'll worry about the pain later. cage is already unleashing his cock from the constraints of his pants, palming himself through his boxers. johnny does the same, but couldn't bring himself to wait any more as his dick slings out of his slacks, nearly slapping your cheek when he twitches.

you decide to play the cruel game, denying johnny of what he's borderline begging for, his wet eyelashes fluttering at the sight of you on your knees for him, and... other him. speaking of which, you turn your head and wrap your lips around cage's cock, hollowing your cheeks and gently sucking down on his weeping tip. bobbing your head only a couple inches to tease, cage groans and watches johnny writhe for release.

"what's the matter?" cage taunts a slackjawed johnny. "jealous?" johnny bites down on his lower lip and nods wildly, cheeks flushed and averting eye contact. "hey, hey, ah-" cage tuts. he reaches over and grabs johnny by the neck, angling his face forward. "look at me while she sucks me off." and so johnny does, desperately whimpering and gasping as he watches cage's expression contort when you take his cock fully in your mouth, gagging as you reach the base. his other hand reaches down and holds your head in place, your lips burning from the stretch of the thickness. sure, they were both packing, but cage's was thick while johnny's was long.

your fingers found your cunt, swiping three available fingers across your folds and gathering the wetness before searching for johnny's cock and stroking as best as you can from this angle. his precum mixed with your slick allowed you to slide across easily. your head and torso were angled toward cage as you stretched your arm to jerk johnny off properly. both are now breathing heavily, and you only get to look up for a moment to notice cage's hand around johnny's neck, their intense eye contact having you wonder if you were even needed. clearly you were though, as they're both tensing and moaning at your pleasure.

fighting against cage's hand on the back of your head, you pull off of his cock with a pop and swap your attention, now jerking off cage while blowing johnny. the sudden onslaught of wet warmth makes johnny whine as he bucks into your throat, catching you off guard as you gag once again.

"ngh - sorry," he pathetically apologizes, only looking down at you for a moment. if he looked for any longer, he might just cum there and then. "m'sensitive."

"yeah you are," cage snarls, eyes clenching shut as he focuses on the pleasure. "god, you've got yourself a fuckin' whore in this timeline, don'tcha? you like sharin', johnny?" cage grabs your hair and tugs it lightly, and you hum an agreement against johnny's dick that makes him gasp as he nods along. johnny's warm, wet tip is seeping precum that places a salty taste on your tongue while it traces every vein.

cage's purring degrading comments and praises are lost to your hazy mind, too focused on pleasing the cocks in your face. you manage to pick up a few things about how good you look like this, and how cute they make them in this timeline. of course johnny would be attracted to himself, of course. this, thankfully, gives you an idea.

"hold on," you remove your lips from johnny and he involuntarily bucks into your face at the loss of pleasure. "can we try something?"

the two men exchange dubious glances, but their low lids and parted lips tell you they'd agree to anything you'd ask of them right about now. they nod simultaneously and you rise with a grin, wiping your mouth. each hand finds a dick and picks the stroking up again, trying to keep them heated and eager. one thing you pick up on quickly is that for as much smack as they talk, they're both desperately close from a few touches alone, bucking and whining into your hands. cage's cocky attitude has washed away and mirrored johnny's as they both submit to your touch. just as you feel them getting desperate, clawing at any part of your clothes or skin they could make contact with, you tug them together. cage leans against the wall, and johnny leans against a large equipment crate, gripping the corners.

you guide their dicks together until their undersides brush up on each other, making them both jolt in surprise. clasping your hands in a wide hoop, you resume your stroking, this time with both of their cocks trapped in your grasp. the messy mixture of fluid creates a wet noise as you glide up and down their touching cocks. johnny, as always, can't contain his desire and begins to rut into your hand, rubbing against cage's dick in the process. cage picks up on the idea, and the two men rub their cocks together as your hands stroke around them.

"holy-" cage slaps a hand over his eyes, groaning as his head tilts back. it's clear in all of his time, frotting was never something on his list. neither for johnny. "this... it's too much, doll."

"god - ffngh... it's supposed to feel like that," johnny interjects breathlessly, hips bucking up sloppily. his chin touches his chest as he hopelessly chases his high. "come on, no way you've - ahh - never done this. keep-keep moving-" a sharp hiss escapes his throat when you rub your thumb over his slit.

their thighs clench and their bucking becomes wild and it could be clear to anyone that they're extremely close. you also realize that they're entirely getting off on each other, whining every time their tips catch on each other. cage tightens his grip on johnny's neck and clenches his thigh with his other, while johnny is death gripping the box as he shakes and writhes.

"you can do it," you mutter encouragements to the men as their thrusts stutter. "talked so much before, where is it now, boys? you were doing so good..."

johnny couldn't take another second of the pleasure mixed with your praises, and with a final jolt, his thighs twitch as he cums, shooting ropes of his semen on both your hands and cage's cock. the cum coating his own cock got cage going just enough to finish shortly after, both of them spasming as semen drips down your hands. there was so much, and it felt so warm against your skin as they both whimpered and groaned curses and praises aimed at you and the other man. you lean down and place your lips around their tips, attempting to catch the final spurts as they dripped out. licking up their shafts to collect what you could, they simultaneously hiss at the overstimulation of their sensitive dicks, twitching and trying to pull away from your ruthless grip.

"alright, alright, fucking hell..." cage whines, pulling away with a harsh tug. his breath feels far away, impossible to recollect as he watches johnny shield his face with his arm, skin flushed and sweaty as his dick continues to throb in your hand.

they both reel seeing you lick your fingers, placing them in your mouth and sucking gently, lashes fluttering at how good - and similar - they tasted. johnny finally catches his breath and is the first one to properly speak up.

"someone's probably looking for us," he breathes, trying to fix his dress shirt with sweaty palms. "we... we should get back out there."

"right," you hum as your fingers are pulled from your mouth. "we were... in the middle of fixing all this."

"i dunno," cage smirks, crossing his arms. "i kind of like it here. i got two pretty things to keep me busy."

"don't make it weird," johnny groans, head lolling to the side as he stretches. "don't do that."

"how is that weird?" cage puts his hands on his hips.

oh lord, here they go ahead. maybe another round would shut them up.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #johnny cage #mk1 #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage smut #mortal kombat smut #mk11 #marley writes ☆

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