#and I've been making really stupid mistakes constantly | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

theonottsbxtch · 2 months ago

Text

HOPELESS | PO5

an: first time writing pato and i know i've written him less cocky and flirty than i wold have personally expected him being depicted. but i think for this request it worked in my favour.

wc: 3.3k

Pato had never been particularly good with words, but that didn’t matter much in motorsport. Out on the track, skill spoke louder than conversation, and for the most part, he was fine with that.

But with her, it was different.

She was the first-ever Indy champion, a driver who had carved her name into history with raw talent and relentless determination. Everyone knew her, everyone respected her—himself included. The other drivers had stories about her, moments shared in garages and on podiums, inside jokes and easy camaraderie. He had none of that.

For some reason, he simply didn’t exist in her world.

It wasn’t that she disliked him. There were no grudges, no bad blood. She treated him with the same polite professionalism she extended to reporters or engineers she barely knew. And yet, when he spoke, her responses were clipped, transactional. If she laughed at a joke in the paddock, it was never one of his. If she scanned a room, her gaze slid past him like he was a shadow against the wall.

It shouldn't have bothered him. It did.

Because Pato had been nursing a hopeless, ridiculous crush on her for as long as he could remember.

It wasn’t immediate, this thing he had for her. It crept up on him, slow and insidious, like the way tyre wear set in over a long stint—barely noticeable at first, until suddenly, it was all he could think about.

Maybe it started the first time he saw her race, years ago, before he even had a seat in IndyCar. He remembered watching from the pit wall, the way she danced through traffic, fearless and calculated, wringing every ounce of speed from a car that should’ve been struggling. He told himself back then that it was admiration, the kind any driver would have for another at the top of their game. But admiration didn’t tie knots in his stomach when she brushed past him in the paddock, nor did it make him hyper-aware of every offhand comment she made.

No, this was something worse.

And she had no idea.

Pato had tried to make an impression—nothing over the top, just little things. A comment here, a question there, something to make him more than just another driver in the field. It never landed. She’d acknowledge him, sure, but only in the way she acknowledged anyone she wasn’t particularly close with. There was no spark of recognition, no shift in her tone when she spoke to him.

Everyone else had that with her. Everyone but him.

And the worst part? He had no idea why.

It wasn’t arrogance; he knew his place in the pecking order. He wasn’t naïve enough to think he deserved her attention just because he wanted it. But it wasn’t as if they’d ever clashed, either. He’d never taken her out of a race, never bad-mouthed her, never done anything that might explain why she skimmed over him like he was background noise.

He’d never mattered to her.

And yet, she was all that mattered to him.

He knew he needed to get rid of his hopeless crush on her.

It was stupid. Pointless. Self-inflicted torture.

He told himself that constantly, especially when she breezed past him in the paddock without a second glance, or when she laughed—really laughed—at something another driver said, like they were in on some joke he would never be part of.

He needed to move on.

Until they were paired for pre-season media.

For a whole week.

Pato stared at the email in his inbox, half-convinced it was a mistake. Media obligations were a necessary evil in racing, but they were usually spread out, different drivers rotating in and out for interviews, photoshoots, sponsor promos. This, however, was something else.

A full week of interviews, press events, and behind-the-scenes content. Together.

The logic made sense. She was the reigning champion, the face of the sport. He was coming off a strong season, a title contender in his own right. Pairing them up created a compelling narrative—two of the top drivers, side by side, setting the tone for the year ahead.

For everyone else, it was great marketing.

For Pato, it was a disaster waiting to happen.

Because how was he supposed to pretend she didn’t affect him when he’d be stuck with her for seven straight days? When he’d have to sit next to her, answer questions about their "rivalry" (which didn’t exist, considering she barely registered his presence), and—God help him—probably pose for staged social media content where they’d be forced to look like they were actually friends?

He could already see it: a carefully curated clip of them laughing at some scripted joke, the kind of moment fans would eat up. She’d be effortless, charming as ever. And him? He’d be struggling to act like he wasn’t hanging onto every word she said.

It was going to be the longest week of his life.

The first day of pre-season media started early. Too early for Pato to be dealing with this.

He arrived at the studio ahead of schedule, hoping that being early would give him time to settle in. It didn’t. The place was already a whirlwind of activity—PR reps barking orders, camera crews setting up lights, stylists buzzing around like it was the Met Gala instead of a bunch of racing drivers doing press.

And she was already there.

He spotted her near one of the backdrops, talking to a producer, nodding along as they ran through the schedule. Effortlessly composed, like she’d done this a thousand times before. Which, of course, she had.

She was dressed in team gear, but even the plain polo and branded jacket looked good on her, like she belonged on the cover of a motorsport magazine. He forced himself to look away before his brain could start romanticising something as stupid as the way she stood—like she owned the room without even trying.

She hadn’t noticed him yet.

Good.

Maybe he could get through this week by staying in the background, doing his job, keeping things professional. He just had to ignore the fact that every time she looked through him, it twisted something in his gut.

“Ah, Pato! You’re here.”

Too late.

One of the PR reps clapped him on the shoulder before steering him forward, right into her line of sight. She turned at the sound of his name, her expression shifting from polite focus to something neutral. Not cold, not unkind—just nothing.

“Morning,” she said, like it was an afterthought.

“Morning.” His voice came out steadier than he expected, which was a miracle in itself.

She gave a small nod, then looked back at the producer, clearly expecting the conversation to move on without him.

Of course.

The PR rep cleared their throat. “Right! So, you two are paired for the day, and we’ve got a packed schedule. First up—some quickfire Q&A for the socials, then a sit-down interview for the pre-season documentary.”

Pato nodded, determined to act like this was just another media obligation. Nothing unusual. Nothing worth overthinking.

Until the PR rep added, far too casually—

“And after lunch, we’ll be doing some fun challenges—bit of a ‘getting to know each other’ vibe. Teamwork exercises, that sort of thing.”

He froze.

So did she.

Her brows pulled together, just slightly. It wasn’t irritation, more like mild confusion—like she couldn’t understand why they had been chosen for something like that.

“Right,” she said eventually. “Sounds… fun.”

It didn’t sound fun. Not to her. Definitely not to him.

Pato had wanted her to acknowledge him. To notice him.

Now, for the first time in his career, they were going to be forced to interact properly.

And he had no idea if he was ready for it.

The first part of the day went about as well as Pato had expected—awkwardly, painfully, and with absolutely no shift in how she saw him.

The quickfire Q&A session was fine. Standard questions, standard answers. They sat side by side while an off-camera producer fired prompts at them. Who had the better qualifying record? (Her.) Who was most likely to be late to a team meeting? (Him.) Who had the worst taste in music? (Also him, apparently, judging by the way she scrunched her nose when he admitted to liking 80s rock.)

She didn’t laugh at him, but she didn’t laugh with him either. The same easy, effortless energy she had with other drivers wasn’t there. It was all business, like she was just getting through another obligation.

The sit-down interview wasn’t much better.

“Describe each other in three words.”

Pato hesitated. Three words. Just three? He could name 100 if she asked.

“Fast,” he said eventually, because obviously. “Consistent. And… competitive.”

She gave a small nod, acknowledging the answer, but there was nothing behind it.

When it was her turn, she barely hesitated. “Skilled. Focused.” A pause. “Quiet.”

Quiet.

It wasn’t wrong, exactly. He was quieter than most of the grid, more measured with his words. But coming from her, it felt less like an observation and more like confirmation—of what, he wasn’t sure. Maybe that she still didn’t really see him.

By the time lunch rolled around, he was convinced nothing about their dynamic was going to change.

And then, the afternoon happened.

The "fun challenges," as the PR rep had so kindly put it, turned out to be a mix of stupid icebreaker games and team-building exercises.

The first was a trust exercise.

“Okay, you know how this works,” the producer explained, gesturing between them. “Pato, stand behind her. She’s going to fall, and you’re going to catch her.”

Pato’s brain short-circuited.

She glanced over her shoulder at him, looking more amused than anything. “Try not to drop me, yeah?”

It was the first remotely casual thing she’d said to him all day.

He managed a smirk. “No promises.”

A tiny, almost imperceptible twitch of her lips. Not a full smile. Not even close. But it was something.

She turned back around, took a breath, and let herself fall.

For a split second, he almost forgot to catch her. Not on purpose—he just wasn’t used to her being this close, trusting him with something as simple as this.

His arms wrapped around her waist just in time, stopping her before she hit the ground. For the briefest moment, she was right there, weight pressed against him, her head tilting slightly as if she was about to glance back.

And then it was over.

She straightened up, stepping away, brushing her hands over her jacket like nothing had happened.

“Not bad,” she admitted.

Pato exhaled, forcing his brain back into normal function. “Told you I wouldn’t drop you.”

She hummed, considering. “I thought you said no promises.”

He blinked. Was she—was she teasing him?

Before he could figure out how to respond, the producer clapped their hands together. “Great! Next challenge—answering questions for each other. Let’s see how well you really know your gridmate.”

Her brow lifted slightly as she looked at Pato.

Gridmates.

They weren’t. Not really.

But for this week, maybe they had to be.

The rest of the week blurred into a cycle of press obligations, staged interactions, and an ever-present awareness that, for the first time in his career, she actually had to acknowledge him.

It wasn’t much—small, incremental shifts that barely felt like progress. But Pato noticed everything.

The way she started looking at him when he spoke, instead of through him. The way she started responding to his jokes—not always with laughter, but with a twitch of her lips, like she was holding something back. The way she started actually engaging with him, even if it was just subtle, throwaway comments between takes.

By the time they reached the final stretch of media duties, it was easier. Almost natural.

Almost.

The moment that stuck with him, though—the one that lodged itself in his brain like an unshakable thought—came on the second-to-last day, during lunch.

He hadn’t even realised she was nearby until she was standing in front of him, hand extended. A cereal bar. Nothing fancy. Just one of those standard protein bars the teams kept stocked for quick energy.

Pato frowned, looking between the bar and her face, like there was some hidden meaning he wasn’t catching. “What’s this?”

She tilted her head slightly, like he was the one being strange. “You haven’t eaten yet.”

He blinked. “How do you—”

“You always wait until the last second, and then you grab something just before the next shoot.” She shrugged. “Figured I’d save you the trouble.”

Pato stared. Not because it was a grand gesture—if anything, it was small. Thoughtless, even. Like she’d noticed, made a decision, and moved on without thinking too much about it.

And maybe that’s what got to him.

She noticed.

Before he could say anything, she turned on her heel and walked away, leaving him standing there, cereal bar in hand, trying very hard not to read into something that probably meant nothing.

Probably.

That night, Pato was actively losing his mind.

The cereal bar was still sitting on his hotel nightstand, untouched. He didn’t even like that flavour. That wasn’t the point.

She had noticed him. Noticed him. And not in the usual, fleeting, empty way where he barely registered in her head. She had paid attention. To his habits. To the fact that he was terrible at remembering to eat on time. She had walked over, handed it to him, and left before he could so much as process the fact that it had even happened.

What the hell was he supposed to do with that?

There was only one person he trusted to make sense of this for him.

His mother.

He pressed the phone to his ear, pacing his hotel room like an idiot, waiting for her to pick up.

“¿Mijo?” came her warm, familiar voice. “¿Qué pasó? It’s late where you are, are you okay?”

“No, I’m not okay,” he said, rubbing a hand down his face. “I’m losing my mind.”

She sighed, the kind of exasperated sound that only a mother could perfect. “Ay, Dios. ¿Qué hiciste ahora?”

“Nothing! That’s the problem!”

A pause. “… Es por una chica, no?”

Pato groaned. “Of course you immediately know it’s about a girl.”

“Because you sound like your father when he was being tonto about me,” she said, unimpressed. “Who is she?”

He exhaled. “It’s—ugh. It’s her.”

His mother knew exactly who he meant. He had never explicitly told her about his hopeless crush, but she wasn’t stupid. The one time she’d come to a race and met his fellow drivers, she had taken one look at him watching her across the paddock and raised a knowing eyebrow.

“Ah,” she said, like that explained everything. “And what has she done to make you so dramatic?”

“She gave me a cereal bar.”

A long silence. Then—

“… Perdón?”

“A cereal bar! At lunch! She just—she noticed that I wasn’t eating on time and handed me one and walked away like it was nothing.” He ran a hand through his hair. “And I know it’s stupid, but she’s never noticed me before. Not really. And now she’s—she’s just—”

“Being nice?” his mother finished dryly.

Pato groaned. “Yes. No. Maybe?”

Another sigh. “Mijo, listen to me. You have been in love with this girl for—what? A year? More? And you’ve done nothing because you convinced yourself she doesn’t care. And now that she’s proving you wrong, you’re still doing nothing?”

“I—”

“Ay, Patricio.” When she used his full name, he knew he was in trouble. “What do you want? Honestly.”

Pato sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor.

“I want her to see me the way I see her,” he admitted, quiet.

His mother’s voice softened. “Then haz algo, hijo. Do something. Say something. Stop standing in the background of your own story.”

Pato closed his eyes.

She made it sound so simple.

It wasn’t.

But maybe… maybe it didn’t have to be impossible, either.

Pato barely slept.

His mother’s words looped in his head all night. Do something. Say something. As if it were that easy. As if he could just shake off a year of being invisible and suddenly be someone that mattered to her.

By the time 5 a.m. rolled around and his brain still refused to shut up, he gave up on sleep entirely. He pulled on a hoodie, grabbed his keycard, and made his way downstairs to the hotel’s outdoor pool, hoping that the quiet would clear his head.

And then he saw her.

She was sitting at the edge of the pool, feet dipped in the water, arms braced behind her as she stared out at the city lights reflecting off the still surface.

Pato froze.

His body screamed at him to turn around before she noticed him. But then she shifted slightly, head tilting at the sound of footsteps. Her gaze landed on him.

Too late.

He had two options: pretend he had some other reason to be here, or…

Do something.

Taking a slow breath, he stepped forward, pulling off his hoodie and tossing it onto a nearby lounger before sitting down a few feet away from her.

“You do realise this isn’t a race,” he said, nudging his chin towards the water. “No need to be this dedicated to aerodynamics.”

She huffed a quiet laugh through her nose, shaking her head. “It’s peaceful. And I couldn’t sleep.”

“Same,” he admitted, nudging his bare feet into the water. It was cool, not freezing, but enough to shock his system awake.

A beat of silence stretched between them. Not awkward, but not entirely comfortable either.

Talk, his mother’s voice nagged in his head. Say something.

“So,” Pato started, searching for anything to keep the moment from slipping away. “Since we’re stuck doing media together, I feel like I should get some information. Y’know, for survival.”

She raised a brow. “Survival?”

“Yeah. Like, what’s your go-to pre-race meal? Most important question, obviously.”

That earned him an actual smirk. “Pasta. Always.”

“Solid choice,” he mused. “Okay, follow-up: if you weren’t a driver, what would you be doing?”

She hummed, tilting her head in thought. “Something adrenaline-based. Maybe skydiving. Or stunt driving.”

Pato snorted. “I can definitely see that.”

“What about you?” she asked, glancing at him.

He blinked, caught off guard. Not just by the question—but by the fact that she was asking in the first place.

“Probably something quiet,” he admitted. “Maybe a mechanic. Or a watchmaker.”

That made her actually turn towards him, brows raised. “A watchmaker?”

He shrugged. “I like precision. Small moving parts. Everything fitting together perfectly.”

She studied him for a moment, like she was seeing him properly for the first time.

Before Pato could think too hard about that, he exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. “Okay, last question.”

She arched a brow. “Go on.”

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

She hesitated, glancing away. “Extra media obligations. All day.”

Pato nodded, swallowing the mild disappointment that settled in his chest. “Right. Of course.”

But then—she paused.

“… But I’m free after eight. Why?”

His pulse kicked up, and before he could overthink it, the words tumbled out.

“Dinner,” he said. “Just as grid mates.”

She looked at him. Really looked at him. Then—her lips quirked slightly.

“Are you asking me on a date?”

Pato’s brain immediately short-circuited.

“N—no,” he said too quickly, scrambling to backpedal. “I mean, it’s not—obviously not—”

“That’s a shame,” she interrupted, standing up and stepping out of the pool. She grabbed a towel, casually drying off her legs. “Because I would have said yes.”

Pato forgot how to breathe.By the time he managed to reboot his brain and form a response, she was already walking away, leaving him sitting there—staring after her, heart pounding, and officially, completely doomed.

the end.

taglist: @alexisquinnlee-bc @carlossainzapologist @oikarma @obxstiles @verstappenf1lecccc @hzstry8 @dying-inside-but-its-classy @anamiad00msday @linnygirl09 @mastermindbaby @iamred-iamyellow @isaadore

#pato o'ward #pato o'ward fanfiction #pato o'ward x reader #indycar #arrow mclaren #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula one x reader #formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula one #formula one x you #po5 #po5 x reader #po5 fanfic #pato o'ward fanfic #pato oward

306 notes · View notes

goodgrlguides · 3 months ago

Text

A Good Girl's Guide to Getting Over Rejection and Belittling

Where you are is not where you will remain.

Starting off, we of course need to be willing to fix and change the problem but remember that where you are right now, is not where you will remain. Having that hope will also push you forward and give you motivation to move on. Rejection is never something that should be taken lightly.

When you are ready, start working on yourself.

You can never suddenly just start changing, especially if you grew up feeling rejected and belittled. When you are ready, you can begin working and fixing the problems in your life. But never use that as an excuse to never get around to the problem. When you're ready has nothing to with feeling ready, it's about understanding that where you are isn't right and wanting to change that, even if it hurts.

Recognise that you are never the problem.

People reject others for countless reasons that include lack of responsibility or hatred which is a problem from within themselves. If you were rejected by someone, know that it is not your fault and that not everyone sees you the way that twisted person must have seen you. Know your self-worth. Have confidence in who you are. Have confidence in who you will be if you are still working on yourself.

Never seek validation in people.

A common mistake that a lot of people who were rejected make is that they look for validation in people or things and that is completely normal. It's normal, but it should not be a place you stay in. Never try to make people like you or try to make yourself popular, you'll never benefit from that and end up sadder and more rejected than before. Remember that a person's praise only lasts for so long and it can take even one humanly mistake for the person to change how they see you. People can sense when someone is desperate for something, and it instantly puts them off. Grow yourself, instead of trying to gain attention from people that will eventually see you as a hassle and drop you easily.

Never fall into the wrong places and make yourself vulnerable because of rejection.

People easily find that being rejected makes them vulnerable, but that really should not be the case. I've experienced rejection a numerous number of times, even if it wasn't from people alone, and that had made me build up trust issues and put up a wall whenever I'd talk to someone I didn't trust. I still struggle a lot with trusting people, but I recognise that I was not meant to be in this place of constant defense mode. What really is most important is to not fall into the wrong addictions and circles and using rejection as an excuse. Nothing can ever be an excuse for stupid decisions. Trust me, it's much harder to shake off addictions, than it is to shake off rejection.

Build an immunity to belittling and control your reactions.

Recently, a figure in my life has been constantly trying to belittle me in any case they can find. I figured in moment like this, control your reactions and don't let your irritation show on your face. That puts you in a vulnerable position and people like that grow on the vulnerability and embarrassment. Keep calm and answer them accordingly without starting unnecessary fights and disagreements.

As always, it was a pleasure having you and remember: Be a good girl.

XOXO, Good Girl Guides.

188 notes · View notes

littlelovelunette · 2 months ago

Note

Omg omg omg improving percentages but reader is so burnt out and sevika notices so she’s extra gentle and caring with reader? Making sure they’re ok and resting well and is pampered and cared for and reassured and lots lots lotttsss of praise! Pretty please i love youuuu

Improving Percentages (6)

I love you too, anon haha

“How are you still managing advanced maths if you don't even know how to do long divisions?” You asked the classmate you'd agreed to tutor, Stacy was somehow the topper in physics and stuff but when it came to basic maths suddenly she was scatterbrained.

This had to be one of your biggest mistakes because you were dying of stress as it was and now you were stuck with an idiot of a friend who didn't even know how to do long divisions.

“I don't know, it's just so different from all the other things we've done.”

“How?” You sighed, exasperated, before getting up, “I have business class in a few minutes so I have to kinda get going.”

You got up, swinging your bag over your shoulder. Stacy grabbed the hem of your sleeve, looking up at you with puppy eyes. “Please help me with long divisions on Thursday?”

You sighed. “If you are gonna switch batches, I won't be able to help you— keep that in mind before you make any decisions.”

You smiled and waved goodbye to her before leaving for class. You opened the door a little to peek inside.

“May I come in?” You asked Professor Sevika who didn't look up from the papers she was marking, reading glasses on point and posture as sharp as ever.

“Yes, sweetheart.”

You blushed at the casualty and slowly walked inside, taking a seat next to the huge window. You always sat there, it was closer to Sevika and gave you a perfect view of her.

“You look tired.” Sevika commented.

“Mhm.” You could only hum. Doing your extra classes with her and trying to cope with the other classes has been draining you completely.

“What's wrong?” Sevika looked up from her papers and you both made eye contact.

“I've just had so much going on at home with dad's colleagues constantly coming to our place for whatever stupid business he's trying to do and dad's sort of been forcing me to delegate for him.” You explained.

“But isn't doing business your main goal anyway?” Sevika asked as she stacked the papers and put them in their respective files.

“Yeah, it is, but I don't want to do slavery. He wants to keep the money to himself!”

“Now that's just low.”

You nodded with a sigh, looking down at the plain black surface of your desk. “I guess, I'm just really overwhelmed with the pressure from there and chemistry has been so hard these days.” You paused before adding, “Besides, I'm missing out on a few basic classes in chem anyway, that would explain my low test scores.”

Your fingers fidgeting was enough to let Sevika know that you were stressed and you were scared you might not do well in your final tests.

“You can still drop chemistry.” Sevika said calmly, surveying you carefully to understand the storm brewing in your brain.

“I don't wanna disappoint my parents, teachers and peers—”

“You won't disappoint anyone.”

You sighed a little and started taking your business studies’ notes out. “I'm just drained. I need, like, a good rest or something.”

“When is our next extra class scheduled?” Sevika asked as she took her reading glasses off.

“Well, today is Wednesday so… Thursday. Tomorrow is the next extra class.”

“But tomorrow you're already doing four subjects, no?”

“Yeah… I guess, I'll be on the run.” You chuckled nervously before shifting to get comfortable on your seat.

More students started coming into the classroom so Sevika was bound to start her lecture. You felt so drowsy throughout the entire lecture which was unlikely considering it was your favourite subject, head lolling against your hand as you forced yourself awake.

The next day, when you had your extra classes after having 4 very mind destructive subjects to deal with, you were exhausted.

Your eyes were drooping, dark circles around your eyes but you didn't see Sevika in the classroom.

“Excuse me, do you happen to know where the business studies’ professor Sevika is?” you asked the receptionist, holding the strap of your bag tightly to ground yourself from sleep.

“Yeah, she's downstairs actually.”

“Downstairs…?” You repeated, confused before turning and leaving. The elevator was occupied so you took the stairs, pushing your body to focus going down the steps.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Her voice tore you out of your sleep.

“Hey… why are you down here?” You asked as you walked into the garage and she closed the hood of her car.

“Today's extra class will be held at my place, let's go.”

You were a little surprised but didn't question it. Sevika opened the car door for you and you sat down at the passenger seat.

She closed the door on your side and went to the driver's side.

As she sat down, the car's engine revved to life and she pulled out of the driveway. “So, how were classes?” Sevika asked as she drove past the traffic and towards the direction of her house.

You didn't answer. When Sevika looked your way she saw that you were deep asleep. With a soft smile now playing on her lips she parked her car and got out of it.

“My little bunny.” She whispered as she picked you off the passenger seat and took you inside.

When you woke up in the bedroom, you looked around and there was the golden glow of the lamp, Sevika was deep asleep by your side with one hand draped across your stomach and the other under you as if you weighed nothing.

You shifted closer to the older woman, smiling to yourself as you started drifting off to a peaceful slumber again.

You knew you were safe in her arms now and she would pamper you and take care of you to no end.

An hour passed, your limbs tangled with hers in nothing but innocent sleep. As you woke up with a start to check your phone, you saw your mother asked you where you were.

“Fuck.” You whispered and Sevika roused. “Hm?” She hummed in inquiry, forcing herself to get up, wrapping one arm around you.

“Mum’s asking where I am.” You answered as you typed a message in the reply box.

“Tell her the truth.” Sevika said simply and got up.

“What?”

“Tell her you're at mine for classes.” Sevika took her shirt off leaving herself in a tank top and pants. She looked hot. Her muscles were so juicy… so meaty, and gosh— you just wanted to be head locked and-

“You're staring.”

“Oh!- right, sorry.” You quickly typed the message to your mother and watched Sevika walking out of the room without saying anything. Moments later she returned with a box full of very expensive chocolates.

“Sevika,” you whispered her name and watched as she placed it on the bed next to you.

“Got it for you.”

“But they must've cost a fortune.” You opened the golden ribbon around the box and tipped the lid off to see the chocolates inside. They seemed so perfect and elegant.

“A woman like you deserves the finest things in the world.” Sevika said as if stating facts before she took on one of the chocolates out of the box, feeding it to you.

“My, my,” you teased and giggled, a slight blush creeping up onto your cheeks as Sevika fed you one of the delicious treats.

“Take a shower before you leave.” Sevika suddenly said, it was so random.

You decided to ask. “Why?”

“You smell like my cologne.”

180 notes · View notes

bluecollarmcandtf · 1 year ago

Text

Bros, Bros, and more Bros

I made a mistake! My cousin told me about this fortune teller that cast a spell on him. Apparently, it made every man he ran into act like a fatherly figure in his life. I had an awesome dad, but I've always struggled to connect with guys my own age, so I tracked the witch down and begged her for another spell. She eventually came around, but the effects aren't quite what I expected...

"Sup, dude! Wanna skip and hit the park?"

My eyes stretch wide to take in the sight of my own father, carrying a skateboard over his shoulder like it's the most natural thing in the world. He's been acting like this for weeks; not washing his hair, barely even washing himself, and constantly wearing that stupid cap backwards. He's lost any sense of his old self!

"Dad, it's Monday. You've got work," I reply, not wanting him to piss his boss off.

"Work blows!" he sneers, "I hate wearing this stupid tie, and I'd rather hang with you, bro."

I sigh as my father tosses down his skateboard and extends a palm, pulling me into a cliche bro-hug where he claps me on the back. My dad used to give out hugs all the time, but it was never as performatively masculine as this. All this stupid curse did was turn my father into an 40 year-old frat guy.

"You're going to work," I say firmly, "And I'm going to school. We can play videogames or whatever when we get back later tonight."

"Bruuhhh!" he groans, "Fine. I'll catch you later, dude. There's pizza in the fridge if you want."

The idea of leftover pizza this early in the morning makes my stomach ache. My dad used to cook an entire meal every morning, complete with fruits and veggies. Now, he'd probably settle for a bag of chips.

The man leaves the skateboard behind and grabs his suit jacket, pulling it on with an attitude. He gives me one last head nod before bounding out of the house, hair flowing behind him. I imagine it's only a matter of time before my dad's boss is fed up with his new persona. I can't imagine a bro-personality is very conducive to getting work done in a corporate office. Hopefully, he'll mature soon.

With an empty stomach, I saunter out of the kitchen and walk to campus. I'm grateful to live close to the university. Hopefully, my curse won't get in the way of my day.

"Hey, how's my favorite student doing, bro?"

My professor yells and breaks into a goofy grin at the sight of me. I close the door to his office to give us a bit of privacy. Mr. Carlton only acts like this when I stop by, so his colleagues would be shocked to see such a drastic shift in his usually stoic personality.

"I'm good, Professor Carlton," I say, "I wanted to check on my grade for this course."

"No need to be so formal, dude," he smiles, clapping me on the back, "You can call me Daniel. Want a drink? I have some bourbon."

"I'm good. I really just-"

"Relax, bro," my professor says, shoving a glass in my hand, filled to the brim, "This is good stuff. I save it for special occasions, so sit down! Kick your shoes off! I don't care!"

The department head pulls off his suit jacket and leans back in his chair, propping his feet up on the desk and stretching his arms behind his head. I'd never seen the man act so unprofessional, but ever since the curse, he's started treating me like his closest buddy.

"Professor...sorry...Daniel, I just wanted to hear about my grade."

"I got you, bro!" he laughed, "Just keep doing what you're doing. I don't care if you don't show up!"

My shoulders relax. That's what I want to hear. It's not that I don't want to attend his lectures, but the last time I did, he started acting like a jackass in front of the entire class of 50 students. His presentation went from ancient monetary systems to ratings of best celebrity nip-slips. It's a miracle he didn't get fired!

"Ok, good. I have to go," I say checking the time, "And you have class in 20 minutes."

"Shit, I know," he groans and gulps down the rest of his booze, "Another day another dollar, I guess. When can we hang out, man? Tonight? I really wanna hang out with my guy."

"Nope, sorry!" I tense up and grab my backpack, "Good luck with the lecture."

"Right on, bro," he holds a sad hand up for a high-five, swallowing the rest of the drink he poured me.

I give my tipsy professor a halfhearted clap and scamper out of the office as quickly as possible. These interactions make me cringe so hard when a grown man acts young and cool for me. It's especially awkward to see such a respected individual sink to such a low level. What would we even do if he came over?

"Dude! Long time, no see!"

In the hallway, I run into the football coach and two of the team's best players. The three of them look like they're getting back from an early morning conditioning session. They're all sweaty, panting, and happy to see me.

"Oh, hey," I muster, feeling increasingly less cool around these jocks. I hate to admit it, but guys like this wouldn't give me the time of day before I got that bro-curse.

"Hey, man! You gotta come hang out with us," the brunette grins, "The team's still changing, but you're cool to come in the locker room!"

"Yeah, bro!" the blonde quickly adds, "We'd love to have you in there!"

My heart pounds faster and faster. This is why I've never been able to connect with guys my own age. I find myself boning up every time they look in my direction. Now that these two athletes are practically begging for me to join them in the locker room, my erection is bursting out of my pants!

"We can take care of that too," the coach suddenly mentions, pointing a finger at the tent I'm trying to hide in my crotch.

"What?" I stammer with a dry mouth.

"What do you think bros are for?" the coach continues, clapping his two players on the back, "My boys would be happy to help a brother out!"

The two football jocks nod. It feels like I'm dreaming, and I don't know what to do. Before I can decide, the two athletes have approached and grabbed me by the arm. Their grips are firm, and I realize I'm being escorted into the changing room whether I like it or not!

"Who's this guy?"

My stomach drops as I enter the locker room, finding an array of footballers in different states of dress. They all glance up at me with confusion, like I'm not supposed to be there, but then their faces soften. The gypsy's magic sets in, and they don't see a stranger when they look at me. They see their bro.

"Oh, it's you, bro," the same jock says, letting down his guard. I think I recognize him as the quarterback.

"Oh yeah, dude!" the massive lineman stands up and pulls me into a sweaty hug, "Glad you're here!"

"That's right guys," the brunette at my side says, still holding me tightly in place, "Our best bud is here, and he needs some attention."

My face flushes as I suddenly remember the problem poking out between my legs. By now, the entire football team is staring at it. If anything, it's only become more rock solid.

"Let me take care of that for you, bro," the quarterback says, grabbing my crotch without any hesitation.

"Move, I'll do it," says the lineman, pushing the quarterback out of the way and getting on his knees. He opens his mouth wide and-

"Shut up, all of you!" the coach suddenly roars! The locker room falls silent: these athletes are really well trained. "If we're gonna do this, we're gonna do it right. Line up!"

"Yes, coach!"

The jocks back up and form a line in front of the lockers. Even the blonde and brunette that were holding me, release and join the rest of the team on the bench. Suddenly, I'm standing with the coach, looking at an entire team of well-disciplined football players. My throbbing erection is very apparent and pointing right at the small crowd of muscular men.

"Our bro deserves to be kept satisfied, right?" the coach slams a hand on my back.

"Yes, coach!" they shout back.

"So we don't just want to get our boy off once and move on, now do we?" he punctuates his question with another slap, this time lower on my back.

"No, coach!"

"We're going to set up a system for us to get him off whenever he needs it!"

"Yes, coach!"

The broad-shouldered and balding coach gives me one more slap, clapping me on the ass this time while staring into my eyes. "I'm gonna have my boys take turns sucking you off, bro. You just tell me which one's your favorite. Sound cool?"

I manage to mumble my assent, and with one look from coach, the quarterback is on his knees crawling towards my crotch. He pulls down my pants and unleashes my aching hard-on. "I got you, bro," he says, before putting his mouth to work.

After a few minutes, the coach pulls the jock off my pole and orders the linebacker to get busy. Before long, it's the brunette's turn, then the blonde's. I cycle through all 30 of the team's exceptional players, and I've gotten off more than just a few times. It's impossible to choose a favorite.

At the end of it all, the coach pushes the last player aside and says, "My turn, bro," before opening his mouth as wide as he can.

The entire football team watches as I spend the next 15 minutes just filling their coach's eager throat. When I'm finally done, I feel completely spent. I swap numbers with each jock and am repeatedly promised that they will be available whenever I call, but it isn't enough. They want to hang out with me now. They want to go out and party. I find it too difficult to say 'no' to a group of 30 eager athletes, so I let them sweep me up and take me to the nearest bar.

Needless to say, we end up causing a bit too rowdy of a scene.

"I got a complaint about a bunch of college idiots causing a ruckus. Would that be you?"

The officer was all business when he first walked in the bar. My football bros were dancing and yelling, barely even paying attention to the policeman scowling at the wild scene in front of him. He looked pissed, and his glare only softened when it found me.

"Woah, didn't know you were here, man," the cop says, cracking a slight grin on his hardened face.

"Well, I am!" I cry, feeling the effects of all the drinks my bros had been buying for me, "You should forget about work and party with us!"

"You got it, dude! Screw this badge!" the officer yells, pulling me into a tight embrace. I guess the bro-curse even works on law-enforcement!

Just like that, I'm dancing with a policeman in the middle of the dance floor. He doesn't have any moves, but he loosens up after we get some beer down his throat. The football team loves watching the cop party right alongside them. Apparently, this guy has broken up many of their parties in the past.

"Drink! Drink! Drink!"

The officer gulps down his seventh beer and slams the glass on the floor. It breaks, but the shattering is largely drowned out by the music. His onlookers go wild, but I can see the intoxication on his face. Beer is plastered around his mouth and dripping down his neck to soak into his uniform. I doubt this man has ever been this drunk in uniform before.

He stumbles over and throws a muscled arm over my shoulder, "Come here, bro. Let's do some shots or something!"

"I think it might be time to call it a night, officer," I yell in his ear.

"Oh, screw that!" he whines, "And don't call me officer! It's so formal!"

"Ok, what should I call you?"

"I dunno..." he mutters, "Buck! Call me Buck. That's what my wife calls me."

I roll my eyes at the mention of his wife. Of course this guy is taken. He's a complete stud of man. I've always liked a guy in uniform.

"How'd you like to come home with me tonight, Buck?" I ask sheepishly.

He lights up, "Bro, I thought you'd never ask!"

The cop grabs my arm with a wicked grin and stomps his way towards the door, dragging me along like I'm the prize he won at a fair. The players on the football team all stare at him with envy, mad that he's stealing their new best friend away for the night. I could see how badly each one of the jocks wished they were the one having a sleepover with me tonight.

"Hop in, I'll drive," officer Buck slurs his words and gestures to the police cruiser with his free hand.

"I think I'll handle the driving, if that's alright," I say, "Just hand over the keys."

"Anything for you, bro."

"Looks like someone got lucky!"

"Oh my God. Dad you're still up?"

"Bro, you said you'd play videogames tonight and then you never showed! What was I supposed to do?" he retorts, unbothered by the late hour or the cop hanging on my arm.

"You have to go to work in 4 hours!" I scream, "And you haven't even changed out of today's work clothes! What are you thinking?"

"Chill, bro," my dad says, turning to the drunk policeman holding my hand, "Take him to the bedroom and show him a good time. I'm sure you were going to, but the dude could use some extra help relaxing tonight."

The sound of my own father encouraging the man I brought home to 'show me a good time' makes me question everything again. My dad just witnessed his son bringing home a cop that's the same age as him. He doesn't even care! I want to tell him to grow up and be the man I used to know, but Buck is already jerking on my arm.

"Let's go, bro," he mumbles lowly, using his strong arms to drag me into the bedroom.

"Enjoy your new cop friend, bro!" my father calls and I hear the sounds of his videogames start back up.

I barely have time to worry about any of it. Has this curse gone too far? Will my dad make it to work tomorrow? Does Buck have a wife I need to worry about!?

It all goes away when I'm thrown on the bed. The intoxicated officer flips the lights down low, and stumbles in front of me. He may be drunk, but he is certainly not a disappointment. The cop stares down at me as he rips his state-issued hat off and unbuttons his dark uniform shirt, all the while moving his hips to the beat of gunfire from dad's videogame in the living room.

With his hairy chest exposed, he crawls on top of me and whispers in my ear, "Where do you want me to start? Us bros gotta look out for each other, don't we?"

#gay bros #male transformation #hypno story #gay ai art #gay hypnosis #gay mind control

680 notes · View notes

seredelgi · 1 year ago

Text

COME BACK TO ME

fandom: Attack On Titan/ Shingeki No Kyojin

pairing: Eren Jaeger x Reader, Toxic! Eren Jaeger x Fem! Reader, Eren Jaeger x You, Modern!Eren Jaeger x Reader, Dom!Eren Jaeger x Sub!Reader

summary: Not completely satisfied with her sex life and anxious about the impending day of her wedding, reader turns back to Eren, her ex, to get what she misses from her fiancee.

rating: Mature, 18+

warnings: toxic!eren, toxic!reader, toxic relationship in general, smut, sex, vaginal sex, breeding kink, choking, cheating, as in reader cheats on her fiancee with eren, profanity, mild degradation, kind of angsty too, dirty talk, raw sex, light dom! sub! undertones, edging, nipple play, modern au

word count: 3.6k

tags: @anniemika @vlsquuu

a/n: I'm usually not that much of an Eren simp but he honestly fits the toxic ex-boyfriend trope too well, so here. This is really the scrappiest scrap ever but yeah, enjoy. Let me know if I've missed any warnings. English is not my first language so forgive any mistakes.

You love your boyfriend. You really do.

There's no denying that when he proposed you felt kind of nervous about the idea of spending a lifetime with him, but that's no reason to doubt how much you love him.

He's sweet, he's caring, and most definitely very handsome. " He's quite a catch" your friends constantly like to remind you "Such a step up from that clown you were so down bad for"

Eren Jaeger.

Your girlfriends couldn't stand the guy. And honestly, how could you blame them? He's not been the best partner to you during your time together.

He was obnoxiously self-centered and way too jealous.

You were together a year, but you put up with his shit that long simply because he had one of those annoyingly difficult-to-replace redeeming qualities.

Boy, was Eren good at sex.

Your now fiancee is good too, but that's no match for the way Eren could make you feel back in the day.

And you know it is no excuse for what you did. It doesn't matter how nervous or weirded out you have been about the impending approach of your big day, you shouldn't have called him. You shouldn't have needed to hear his voice so bad, and most definitely shouldn't have hoped for him to invite you over to his apartment, sounding way too smug already in doing so over the phone.

But you can't help it, it's just the effect he has on you. You lose all common sense when it comes to him. He's intoxicating, and that, unfortunately, is part of his damn charm.

However, it is quite difficult to regret any of those decisions right now, sweaty and spread underneath him, taking him deep enough to leave you out of breath.

He's not been able to wipe that stupid grin off his face since he opened the door and met your big eyes, languid already with the denial of how much you missed him.

It's always been like that with him. You got carried away by the nostalgia, you felt the suffocating need to see him again, and then felt ready to bolt the second you were met with his piercing green gaze again.

He hadn't let you, of course.

He took hold of your wrist as soon as you turned around to escape from him. He'll be damned if he won't get his hands on you, after months of pointless abstinence.

He's never properly digested your break-up. He'd let you go reluctantly, but still messaged you, still lingered in your life like a ghost.

It didn't help that you'd continued living in the same neighborhood as him for a while after you two had split.

If you had to be honest, that was the very reason why you hadn't been able to be completely faithful to your new man in the first few months of your relationship. You happened to run into Eren a few times too many, giving in way too easily to his rumblings about how he was sorry, that he should've treated you better.

Well, it's too late now, you had found yourself saying, only to end up getting railed by him anyway.

Who were you kidding? You were too damn weak to resist him.

It only happened twice, and you felt so bad about it that you decided to move from the area as soon as things with your boyfriend seemed to take a good turn.

Eren didn't take it very well.

He called you insistently and left you so many messages that you had to block him on pretty much any social media. But he still reached out to you, one way or another, through some of his friends. He didn't have them write anything to you directly, but they always looked at your stories and your posts and you were positive they reported everything back to him.

That's why you're sure he knew you were engaged when he answered your call that very day.

He just didn't care.

Part of you knows you should despise him for it, that the fact that he invited you over anyway doesn't speak highly of him. However, that's exactly why you called him. You knew he wouldn't give a damn about your approaching wedding. If anything, he'd turn this into yet another stroke at his pride, yet another thing to hold you by the neck with.

And that's what he's doing now while burying himself into you. He wraps his hand around your neck and slaps against your ass so hard that all you can hear is the sound of your pussy milking his length and his rasping puffs of pleasure.

Man, you've missed this.

There's nothing quite like the way he makes you feel.

You're not sure what it is about him, and it's not like you don't get fucked properly by your fiancee. There's something about sex with Eren tho, that simply drives you wild. Maybe it's in the fervency of his touch, so eager to elicit a response that it often ends up ravaging you insatiably. It's like he needs you to like it.

It almost makes you wonder how on earth could you have let all of this go.

But then he brushes the strands of your damp hair off your face and whispers to you:

" Couldn't stay away from it, huh?" his breaths are heavy, and their warmth sinks into your skin like sin itself " Missed me that much?"

You can't help rolling your eyes at that. Whether or not his nonsense ranting is the only reason for it, only you know.

You dip your nails into the flexing muscles of his back and whine so loud into the otherwise quietness of his room that you're sure the whole building has heard that. He must've had the same thought too, because he snickers cockily back at you.

You hate to be so easy to break for him, but there's no helping it, and you can't stop your pitiful whining from pouring out anyway.

" Use your words, princess" he drags out, his hold on your neck tightening " Can he make you feel this good?"

You shouldn't humor him, shouldn't let him know the shameful truth of intimacy with your man, but how can you lie to him now that he's smacking so hard against you that you barely remember your name?

No way any of the men you've had in your life could even come close. And even if reluctant, some part of you needs for him to know.

" Nu-uh, Ere-hn" his name comes out amid quiet pathetic whimpers and he basks gloriously in them, pretty much drunk on the sight of your pleasure.

" Fucking knew it" you can hear his groans reverberating through you, shaking you up from within and making you shiver all over.

You're not prepared for the suddenness of his touch when his thumb comes to rest upon your already throbbing clit, applying the right amount of pressure where you've been aching for it, and you exhale a deep long moan that makes him chuckle and dive onto your neck, to pepper it with kisses and gentle bites.

You're already so close, but if you know him well enough he won't let you off the hook that easily.

" Look at you all dumbed down on my dick" the hand of his that had kept you in a chokehold up until then comes to brush down your lips, parting them sweetly as he looks into your half-lidded eyes " What'd he say if he saw you like this?"

You want to tell him to shut up, that you're not here to boost his ego a few sizes. However, you find compelling the way spite is turning him ravenous on you. And as he skates down your skin to squeeze your breasts you catch your breath, bracing.

He knows how much you like nipple play, something you've been missing lately. Your soon-to-be husband indulges in it, but he's way too gentle for your tastes, and even if you've reassured him that he can go hard on you, that you can take it, he just can't bring himself to.

Eren tho, is a whole other matter.

He brushes them lightly, teasing you, making you shiver from expectation. Your chest swells up to chase the warmth you can feel radiating from his hand, demanding it on you. It's like you're a puppet, dancing around at any pull of his at your strings.

You're dipping your teeth into your bottom lip so hard that you fear you'll cut it, but when he finally pinches you, you free a shrill sob of satisfaction. Pain curses through you like an injection drug, it haunts at those corners of your mind that had been, until then, still reticent to the heat of his touch.

He still knows you so well you can't help but melt into it now, tho.

" Still fancy this, darling?" he twists your right nipple in between his fingertips, toying with it, having you arch your back as a jolt of pleasure runs through your nerves to come pulse in your swelling clit. The little nub is desperately throbbing for him to speed up the pace that his thumb has been reserving it.

You nod enthusiastically, buckling your hips against his, eliciting the kind of hiss from him that reminds you how even though he likes to play dominant, he's just about as much at your mercy as you are at his.

" Shit- Easy, babe" his voice is croaked with arousal, this time around he's pleasantly taken aback by how receptive you still are to what he used to do to you " 'gonna have me nut into you like that"

You bite your bottom lip harshly at that, trying to refrain from letting him know just how much you would actually love that. You can't let a guy like him know. He'd attempt to knock you up in an instant, probably seeing it as the perfect opportunity to claim you back.

And even if there's no chance he could manage, you still don't wanna give him the satisfaction.

His thumb is still grazing lazy circles around your sweet spot, giving you enough to leave you impatiently waiting on the edge, craving your release so bad that you utter a little "please Eren" against his lips. Lips that are hovering way too close to be able to keep resisting them, and they look so good that you almost feel compelled to kiss him.

But you can't.

It would make this too sentimental, too real for you to able to take it.

" Please what?"

He's wicked, but hell, do you like it.

You hear the sound of your juices mixing with his as he stretches you out, a thin line of drool silently streaming down your chin, giving him yet another reason to smirk to himself proudly.

" Please Eren, make me 'cum, please"

Begging him for it has always proved to be effective in getting what you want. He usually felt spurred enough by it to give in immediately. Plus, you've always secretly loved that, too.

This time around it doesn't seem to be enough, tho.

" See, I'm not sure you deserve that, darling" his pace has become unabating, it's starting to sore you, it's starting to make you regret coming here in the first place, especially when he just won't let you have what you want " You were very bad to me, weren't you?"

Nuh-uh.

But you nod anyway.

And that's about the extent of the amount of power he has over you.

You're able to leave him and stop thinking about him, able to start a new life and date other men, able to accept a marriage proposal, even. But the second he's got you, you're not capable of denying him anything.

You're completely at his mercy.

" 'm-hm sorry" you keen, and see a genuine sparkle of surprise arise in his eyes at that, the quivering sense of loss he must've felt the day you deserted him still hidden in there, twinkling like a treasure he just won't surrender.

If there's something you know for certain, if there's anything you'd bet your life on is that he loves you. Sure, it's in that sick, toxic way of his that just about makes you twist your guts and ache for him at the same time. But he does nonetheless, and you've never doubted that.

There's definitive proof of it in the softening of his tone the second you apologize to him.

" Then leave him baby" he's breathless as he begs you, he kisses your lips and you can't deny him, even reveling at the contact, having craved it so bad that it almost hurts. It heightens your senses and makes you hungry for more.

You've missed it a lot, maybe more than you had the rest of it.

With him, it was always so needy. A desperate clashing of teeth and avid chasing of tongues, always wrapped in moans as he selfishly pulls you in. It is so intense that you'd dreamed about it for nights after you had ultimately decided to break up with him.

" Come back to me" whispered in between harsh puffs and meetings of lips " You know you want to, 'can feel it in the way you squeeze me"

Damn, he's so close to cracking you that it's almost scary.

" Can't let me go" chants and prayers of his just add up to the increasing intensity of his pressure on your clit, bringing you so close that literal tears stream down your cheeks, and somehow you know it's not just because of the gut-wrenching need to orgasm.

You just hate that he's right, and it hurts so much, even in the midst of all the pleasure you're feeling.

" You're still mine" fervid kisses cover the skin of your neck, humid little reminders of what you feel for him, and then you feel the fluttering of your walls welcoming the long-awaited approach of your climax.

He can feel it too, because he steadies his movements, and his eyes are trained on your features as you turn to jelly underneath him, incoherent pleads ecaping silently past your lips.

" Like that, yeah" you can hear him only dazily in the background of your pleasure as you shudder against him, and then you feel his lips claiming yours back, giving you no time at all to even catch your breath. He flicks his tongue in your mouth as you cry into him, and it's just the most excruciating kind of evidence that what he's said is all true.

You are his, and you always will be.

And it makes it all the more agonizing that you cannot be.

It's not long before he tears away way from you, his thrusts suddenly sloppier, his breaths ragged and uneven, and he looks at you, still weakly trembling underneath him, looking positively worn out.

That's how he likes you. Satisfied by him, and only him.

" Fuck- Gotta pull out, baby"

You flinch instinctively at that, your legs crossing behind his back, thighs clenching desperately at his hips, and you know you wouldn't do this if you weren't so high on him.

However you're still hazed from the aftermath of your pleasure, and you so don't want him to part from you.

He looks down at you, confounded.

" Don't you play with me babygirl" he threatens, his breaths so short you can feel he's holding on for dear life, waiting for a confirmation that you do in fact want him to nut inside of you " You know I'll do it"

The idea is appealing, and you recall that's something that you two have always played with in the past.

Back when you were together he'd told you to get off the pill, that he was very much capable of pulling out in time when necessary, when really, he just loved the risk. He got off on the idea that he could knock you up at any moment, his only restraint the one of his will.

It should've felt scary, to give him full control on something like that, but he'd always behaved.

It was a game, and it really did a trick on him. It makes him shiver even right now, against the sudden softness you reserve him as your fingers run through his long brown hair. He tilts his head back and hums, chasing your touch as if starved for it.

" Wanna feel you 'cum inside of me" you whisper in his ear, and his eyes roll back, his unchecked growl making you whimper against him when his hand closes around your throat again, shoving you back on the mattress. And then he starts railing into you with renewed intensity, your head bobbing up and down with his thrusts, and it feels like absolute heaven.

" So fucking desperate for it" it seems like your request has relieved his stamina, and you resume your moaning when his other hand comes to grip your hip to keep you steady, his fingers dipping into your meat so hard you close your eyes shut " -haven't changed a bit"

You feel the awakening of a new need, and you chase after it as you can feel him do with his, his cock piercing through you and hitting your cervix with every single snap of his hips into yours.

" Eren" you let out so quietly that he almost misses it, but when he feels you convulsing around him again, your pussy shamelessly sucking him in, he can't take it anymore. He 'cums with a deep grunt and spills all his warm seed into you, staining your walls and marking you down with his teeth buried in the curve of your neck.

You're so high on it that it barely registers, the way he's sucking on your skin greedily, how whatever he's imprinting on it will have to be covered with make-up before you go back home.

When he's done you're still puffing and tamely shaking, a sweaty mess, holding onto him to try and regain a shred of your lost composure.

He's got you good this time around. You didn't expect to come twice, not being used to it anymore.

His pants are thick and hot against your skin, and when he's finally able to better control them he levers himself up to look at you.

" Fuck, I hope I got you pregnant" he smirks wickedly.

You know it shouldn't, but your heart skips a beat when he confesses that to you.

You shake your head feebly and huff contently, you'd missed the feeling of satisfaction that good sex leaves you soaking into.

" I'm on the pill"

He frowns and slips out of you, evident disappointment washing over him.

" Ow, now that's no fun"

You sigh and look at him as he lays beside you, his cock still half-hard and glistening with the remains of your juices.

" See, that's why we can't be together"

He turns to look at you at that, this time around a hint of hurt clouds his green eyes, asking for you to explain yourself.

" Having a baby is not supposed to be fun" you say then.

" Says who?" he retorts promptly, " Damn y/n, that's one depressing way to look at life"

No use arguing with him, you two are just too different. And that's why you get up, the feeling of his 'cum leaking out from you and streaming down your thighs quietly stirring up your not-yet-silent arousal.

You can't lie to yourself. It had felt good to feel him empty himself into you.

Right is the best word that comes to mind.

But it isn't right.

And the disconcerting truth of it is, that no matter how inebriating in the making, Eren Jaeger is a threat to everything you've come to hold dear.

" I gotta go" you mutter before the sight of him laying comfortably on his bed like that could arise in you the need to cuddle up to him and sleep it off.

You can't let yourself, nor him, delude into that fantasy.

" So that's it?" he lets out, one of his hands behind his back, his muscles flexing and his eyes appraising the view of you getting rid of his 'cum with a napkin you'd hurriedly gathered from your purse.

You sure as hell cannot fathom the possibility of showering at his place, it is way too dangerous of an idea, even if very appealing.

You stay silent, unable to conjure anything that could sound remotely appropriate at a moment like this.

" You gonna hit me up again when you'll realize he's not enough for you"

His words sound resolute and resigned, and they hang over the room like venom as you look at him, baffled.

He's calm and collected, even if his eyes betray a hint of dejection that he would never let anyone else ever catch onto. But they're unwavering as if he can predict your future to be intertwined with his.

How can he even stand to feel like that?

How can you?

You gather your things and go for the door, before he could turn even meaner, before he would show his true colors.

" Give Reiner my best, would 'ya?"

You stop short when you hear your fiancee's name. Your heartbeats racing, your breaths quickening at the realization that you had been right.

He'd been watching silently this whole time.

A chill runs up your spine as you close the door to his apartment shut behind you, and you swear to yourself, that no matter how tempting, you'll never give in to the need to see him ever again.

283 notes · View notes

carleycore · 10 months ago

Text

When they insult you (Osamu and Kageyama)

A/N It's been a while since I've done this series so hehe

Genre: Hurt/comfort Angst

Warnings: Insults obvi

Part one Part two Part three Part four

(being too clingy)

The bustling noise of Onigiri Miya's kitchen is a familiar symphony to you. You sit at the counter, watching Osamu expertly prepare a new batch of rice balls. His usual focused expression is slightly strained today, the dark circles under his eyes a testament to the long hours he has been working lately.

"Do you need any help, 'Samu?" you ask, hoping to ease his burden.

Osamu barely glances at you, shaking his head. "No, I got it," he replies curtly.

You frown but decide to give him space. You know running a restaurant is stressful, and Osamu has been pushing himself too hard. You want to be there for him, to support him, but he has been increasingly distant.

"Are you sure?" you press gently. "I can help with the orders, or maybe clean up a bit."

"I said no, (Y/N)," Osamu snaps, his voice sharp. "Just stay out of the way."

Taken aback, you recoil as if you have been struck. Hurt flashes across your face, but you bite your lip, trying to keep your composure. "Okay," you whisper, your voice barely audible.

You stand up, intending to give him the space he seems to need, but Osamu's next words stop you in your tracks.

"Why do you always have to be so clingy?" he mutters under his breath, though loud enough for you to hear. "I can’t deal with this right now. You’re just making things harder by hovering."

Tears well up in your eyes. "Clingy?" you repeat, your voice trembling. "I'm just trying to help, Osamu. You've been working non-stop, and I thought you could use some support."

"Well, you're not helping," he retorts, slamming a rice ball onto the counter. "You're just making everything more stressful by constantly being here and trying to do things your way."

The silence that follows is heavy and suffocating. You stare at him, your heart aching. Without another word, you turn and leave the restaurant, the bell above the door jingling sadly as it closes behind you.

Hours pass, and the sun has long since set by the time Osamu finally closes up for the night. Exhaustion weighs heavily on him, but the memory of your hurt expression gnaws at his conscience. He knows he has crossed a line.

When he arrives at your apartment, he hesitates for a moment before knocking. The door opens slowly, and you stand there, your eyes red and puffy from crying.

"Hey," Osamu says softly, his voice filled with regret.

You look at him, a mix of sadness and anger in your eyes. "What do you want, Osamu?"

"I wanted to apologize," he says, stepping closer but stopping when he sees you tense. "I was out of line. You were just trying to help, and I lashed out. I’m so sorry, (Y/N)."

You cross your arms, looking away. "You really hurt me, Osamu," you say quietly. "I know you're stressed, but that doesn't give you the right to talk to me like that."

"I know," he admits, running a hand through his hair. "I've been under a lot of pressure, but that's no excuse. I should have appreciated your help instead of pushing you away."

A tear slips down your cheek, and Osamu reaches out, gently wiping it away with his thumb. "I love you, (Y/N)," he says earnestly. "I don’t want to lose you because of my stupid mistakes."

You look into his eyes, seeing the sincerity in them. Slowly, you uncross your arms and step closer. "I love you too, Osamu," you murmur. "But you need to let me in. We're a team, remember?"

Osamu nods, pulling you into his arms. "I promise I’ll do better," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't want to push you away ever again."

You hug him tightly, feeling the warmth of his embrace soothing your aching heart. "Just talk to me next time, okay?" you whisper. "We’ll get through it together."

Osamu holds you close, his heart swelling with gratitude and love. "I will," he vows. "Together."

As you stand there, wrapped in each other's arms, the hurt begins to melt away, replaced by a renewed sense of closeness and understanding. You know there will be challenges ahead, but as long as you face them together, you'll be okay.

(misplaced anger)

You stand by the kitchen counter, finishing up the dishes from dinner. The clinking of plates and running water are the only sounds in the otherwise quiet apartment. It's been a long day for both of you, and the tension in the air is palpable. Kageyama sits at the dining table, staring intently at his phone, his brows furrowed in frustration.

"Tobio, is everything okay?" you ask, drying your hands on a towel. "You seem upset."

"I'm fine," he replies curtly, not looking up from his phone.

You sigh, walking over to him. "You don't seem fine. If something's bothering you, you can talk to me."

He finally looks up, his eyes dark with irritation. "I said I'm fine, (Y/N). Why do you always have to make everything a big deal?"

His words sting, but you try to remain calm. "I'm just worried about you. You've been on edge lately, and I want to help."

"Help?" he scoffs, standing up abruptly. "The only thing you're doing is making things worse. I don't need you hovering over me all the time."

Your heart aches at his harsh tone. "I'm just trying to be there for you, Tobio. We're supposed to support each other."

"Support?" he snaps, his voice rising. "All you do is nag and worry. It's suffocating, (Y/N). Sometimes, I just need space."

The words hang heavily in the air, each one cutting deeper than the last. Tears well up in your eyes, but you blink them away, not wanting to break down in front of him.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, your voice trembling. "I didn't realize I was making you feel that way."

Kageyama's expression softens slightly, but his frustration is still evident. "I just... I need some time to myself, okay?"

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Okay, I'll give you space."

Without another word, you turn and leave the room, heading to the bedroom. You close the door behind you and sink onto the bed, tears streaming down your face. The ache in your chest is overwhelming, and you clutch a pillow tightly, trying to find some comfort in its softness.

Hours pass, and the apartment remains silent. You lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, the weight of Kageyama's words pressing heavily on your heart. You want to support him, to be there for him, but it feels like everything you do is wrong.

A soft knock on the door breaks the silence. "Y/N?" Kageyama's voice is gentle, hesitant. "Can I come in?"

You sit up, wiping your tears away. "Yeah."

The door opens slowly, and he steps inside, his expression filled with regret. "I'm sorry, (Y/N)," he says, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I shouldn't have said those things. I was frustrated and took it out on you. It's not your fault."

You look at him, your eyes still glistening with tears. "I just wanted to help, Tobio. I hate seeing you stressed."

"I know," he sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I've been under a lot of pressure with training and everything, but that's no excuse for how I treated you. You were just trying to be supportive, and I pushed you away."

You reach out, taking his hand in yours. "I love you, Tobio. I want to be there for you, but you need to let me in. We’re a team."

He squeezes your hand, his eyes filled with guilt and affection. "I love you too, (Y/N). I'm sorry for hurting you. I'll do better, I promise."

You move closer, wrapping your arms around him. He holds you tightly, his warmth comforting and familiar. "Just talk to me next time, okay?" you whisper against his shoulder. "We’ll get through it together."

He nods, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I will. Together."

As you hold each other, the pain begins to fade, replaced by a renewed sense of closeness and understanding. You know there will be challenges ahead, but as long as you face them together, you'll be okay.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #osamu x reader #osamu miya #osamu miya x reader #kageyama #tobio kageyama #kageyama x reader #car writes

229 notes · View notes

pomefioredove · 6 months ago

Note

what do you like about yuu? i think i started liking them after the octavinelle arc where they got KICKED OUT of their ONLY semblance of a home because they were being punished for some stupid mistake their friends made. nothing against adeuce grim or octavinelle anymore but man. i wouldve been PISSED.

EVERYTHING. but I think what really resonates for me is that yuu's experience in twisted wonderland is just what being disabled is like for me. I don't have to imagine what it's like being in a place where everyone possesses abilities that I don't. that's just what it's like!!!

like, yuu relies on the goodwill of everyone around them just to live. they're being abused and extorted by the adults in their life and they literally can't do anything about it because they rely on them. they have no autonomy. they're smart but they struggle in school because they can't do what everyone else can. they're constantly infantilized, considered innocent or dumb or naive. they're made fun of for not understanding things that "should be obvious" and bullied for being different. for being weak. they have feelings of helplessness and are arguably pretty depressed because of that

like I know it's just that they're from another world, but I still see them as autistic (among other things) because they resonate with me so much. this game is such a comfort for me because of yuu, despite their obvious differences, their obvious disadvantages, is still accepted by their peers, is still able to make friends, is still considered smart and cunning and strong and interesting. that's just so good

there's so much to love about yuu but yeah. I've been with them from the start. if they were written in any other way I probably wouldn't have liked the game as much

#*ੈ✩‧₊˚asks!

115 notes · View notes

vanilla-bean-buttercream · 9 months ago

Text

Something I wish the "speak English we're in America" crowd would understand is how difficult it is to actually communicate in your second language all the time.

Like I know I'm talking about ignorant people at best and bigots at worst but take a walk with me if your interest is piqued.

I've been learning Spanish both in a classroom for 4 years and casually for the past 15 years. I'm by no means perfectly fluent, but it is something I try to do every day for at least 15 minutes and not just because there's a scary owl in my notifications ordering me to at gunpoint [wink]

I moved to a area with a heavy Spanish speaking community, as opposed to the mainly white area I grew up in as a child. This was always endgame for me, so I wanted to learn Spanish as soon as I could. As a child, despite hearing all around me and even believing at the time that "Everyone in America should speak English™" I wanted to bridge a gap and do something about people not knowing English instead of just complaining about it by becoming an ESL teacher.

That dream faded as I fell in love with being a preschool teacher, but it was in the back of my mind. White ignorance and saviorism aside, my ultimate goal was to help others communicate with each other. Was being the key word. I don't anymore, but it came from a point in time that I now... cringe on that I'm older.

Fast forward to me moving to an area with a heavy Spanish speaking population, this time with just the goal to live there instead of teach people English, and y'all, when I tell you learning Spanish for years did not prepare me for it, I mean it.

It's a ton of brain work.

There's grammar structure to think about. There's words that sound similar but mean two different things. There's accent differences. There's terminology differences. And don't even get me started on the slang.

My brain was exhausted just going to the grocery store. And to think, there are people expecting other Americans to speak in their second language 24/7, myself included when I was an ignorant teen with limited access to the internet.

To someone who has spoken English all their life, it sounds easy. You just... do it. But really, what they're discounting is the years they spent from infancy being engulfed in that language, having the tools as a child to pick up on language faster than an adult brain, not having conflicting grammar structure to think about, knowing which words to use and when, and the grace to make mistakes and be corrected without feeling stupid.

I still think about this speech from Gloria from Modern family.

youtube

At the time it just meant my passion to help people communicate in English intensified, but now, looking back, I realize the message I should've taken from it is how alienating it is to speak a language others don't understand, how frustrating it is to want to communicate and never know how to express it, and how dehumanizing it is to constantly have other people tell you that, even though you're trying to step up to their level, you're the unintelligent one.

I hate to say I had to empathize with her to get the point, but sometimes the best teacher is experience.

And you know what? I hear the pro-English first crowd argue "my grandparents had to do it when they immigrated to America", but I can tell you for a fact the reason my grandmother knew Polish despite being an American born citizen is because her Polish-American grandmother didn't speak English and learned it from her children. They didn't speak English 24/7 either. That's why PA Dutch still exists.

I guess what I want out of this post is just... have patience with people who don't speak English. Give them some grace. They may speak English and don't know how to convey what they want to say. They may not speak English well at all and are trying to better themselves at their own pace. They may just be talking to a relative visiting who doesn't know English at all. Really, it's none of my or anyone else's business why someone isn't speaking English. So what if I have to press 1 for English. That second option isn't for me. It's for people who breathe a sigh of relief because at least they'll be understood.

#cat chats

224 notes · View notes

thisgirlnamedblusy · 6 months ago

Note

Hi! I really like your Donna x reader fanfics, they are super!!. I wanted to ask if you could write a fanfic where the reader is Donna's secret admirer. She constantly leaves gifts near her house. Donna wanted to know who this mysterious person is, so she decided to set up an ambush. And then one day, when the reader brings another gift, Donna comes out of nowhere and catches the reader. The reader in turn was very scared, she thought that Donna killed her, but instead Donna invited her for tea, to which the reader agreed. They chatted, talked about their interests and so on. Donna meanwhile began to have feelings for the reader. And one day, during a conversation with the reader, Donna began to ask questions about love. The reader was surprised by the questions, but still answered them. Suddenly there is a moment of silence. The two girls looked into each other's eyes and at that moment they kissed.

I'm not forcing you. Have a nice day

Yessss!!!! Thank you for your kindness and your request!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the laguage mistakes!!!! :)))))

Get to know me?

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: fluff, Donna being Donna, Donna's POV

Word count: 8,050

Summary: A secret admirer? Nonsense...

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

“Alcina is right, you need a maid,” Angie commented as we walked silently back to the house.

I never liked meetings, or masses, or anything that had to do with approaching trembling crowds that feared the sight of us. My siblings never cared, I even think they enjoyed the terror they instilled in the villagers. Not me. I was just doing my duty to return to my solitude, to my quiet and secluded life.

“Sciocchezze,” I murmured, shaking my head.

“It's not nonsense, Donna, I agree with her,” the doll said, moving nervously in my arms. “That way I would have someone to scare.”

“That's all you want, isn't it? Someone to play with,” I said, annoyed by her insistence.

“Mm, well, not exactly, besides, I think you could use some company,” my doll said, making me roll my eye. “You're very boring.”

“Boring? Oh, are you bored with me, Angie?” I asked, crossing the boundaries of my territory. “Maybe if I deactivate you, you won't be bored.”

“Hey!” Angie mocked, shaking her head, making me smile. “But it’s hard to spend every day with the boring part of my conscience.”

“What?” I asked. “You're part of my conscience, not me of yours,” I said, walking faster.

“Yeah, whatever,” the puppet sighed.

Of course, if it weren't for Angie, I don't know what would have become of me. I have a lot to thank her for, but I hated it when she tried to get into my life.

“Do you want me to make another companion for you?” I asked after a few moments of silence.

“An inert doll with a stupid face? No, thanks,” Angie said, laughing sarcastically. “But Donna, I'm just saying that with a maid, maybe you… Hey! Look at that!” she said, shouting and suddenly pointing at the path.

“Mm?” I murmured, approaching the indicated area.

Something seemed to stand out the white snow. I approached slowly, looking around, until I could see what it was. It looked like a package, something wrapped like a gift. I have to admit that it aroused my curiosity.

Slowly, setting Angie down on the ground, I bent down to pick it up. It was a gift, no doubt, decorated with a striking red bow. I looked at it suspiciously and shook it… Caution was never enough.

I was a Lord, but that didn't mean I was appreciated by the villagers, quite the opposite.

“What is it?” Angie asked, looking at the small box. “What is it, Donna?”

“I-I don't know,” I said confused, searching for the opening and gently removing the bow. “Angie, it's not one of your jokes, is it?”

“Oh, you're accusing me again, huh?” the doll said, with her hands on her hips. “How can it be my doing? I've been with you all day.”

“Mm,” I murmured, undoing the fragile paper that wrapped it, discovering beneath it what looked like a box of chocolates. “Una sactola di cioccolatini?”

“Let's see, let's see,” Angie said, jumping on the floor while I handed her the mysterious gift. “How much chocolate, Donna.”

“Ma, ma… who could have…?” I said, scratching the back of my neck while Angie seemed to have fun looking at the box. “I-Is this a joke?”

“Who would want to come here to play a joke like this on you?” the doll asked, handing me the box again. “No one is that stupid.”

“Mm” I murmured, walking quickly with a grunt. “Cazzo…”

“Hey, hey, wait for me, Donna!” Angie yelled, following my steps as best she could.

I finally arrived at the mansion, my only refuge in that sinister village.

“Hold it,” I said to Angie, handing her the chocolates while I took off my veil and walked over to the phone.

“Who are you calling?” Angie asked, carrying the box onto the table, opening the plastic that covered it. “Look, there are all kinds of flavours.”

“Don't touch them,” I warned as I dialled the number, breathing quickly, annoyed by this pointless joke.

“Dimitrescu Castle…” my sister's tired and always seductive voice spoke from the other end.

“Alcina, it's me, Donna,” I said with a low voice, uncomfortable for using it.

“Donna? Darling, it's a pleasure to hear your voice… you should do it more often…” she said with a mocking, quiet laugh. “Did you forget something at the cathedral? Or are you calling because you've run out of wine?”

“No,” I said dryly, glancing at Angie, who was curiously exploring the sweets. “What are you up to? I found them.”

“I'm sorry, dear, but I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about,” Alcina said, still laughing softly. “What did you find?”

“The chocolates... I don't know what you were thinking,” I said, with a slightly nervous tone. “You're the only one who knows that I like them.”

“Chocolates?” she asked again, with a puzzled tone. “I don't...”

“Cut the crap, I know what your daughters did to Mr. Priscu; they sent him a box of sweets because his daughter liked them and I also know that he had to stay in bed for two weeks because he got very sick,” I said, clenching my fist tightly. “Do you think I look stupid?”

“Honestly, Donna, I don't know, I've never seen you face,” my sister said, amused. “Besides, you shouldn't make accusations like that. My daughters love you; they would never do something like that to you just for fun.”

“Oh, really?” I said impatiently, breathing heavily.

“Mm…” Alcina murmured. “Excuse me, dear… Bela, Cassandra, Daniela! Come here right now!”

“Oddio…” I protested, moving the phone away from my ear.

“My daughters… Did you play a prank on Aunt Donna!?” my sister shrieked. “No, mother…” the trio of vampires could be heard saying. “If you're lying to me, I… We promise you, mother, we haven't done anything…”

“Hey, Donna, look at this,” Angie said, tugging at my dress to get my attention. “It was stuck to the side of the box,” she said, showing me a perfectly folded piece of paper.

“Mm?” I murmured, extending my hand to pick it up and looking at it curiously.

“Well, you've seen that my daughters had nothing to do with it... So... someone sent you chocolates? That's news...” said Alcina, distracting me.

“Yes, I...” I stammered, blinking confused. “I...”

“Did I hear that they came with a note? Why don't you read it?” Alcina asked, amused. “What's wrong, mother?...Someone sent chocolates to your aunt... Oh, oh, who?”

“Ugh...” I sighed, hanging up the phone and calming my nerves. “Basta...”

“Read it, Donna,” Angie said, climbing onto the table and looking at the paper impatiently. “Come on, come on, come on.”

“V-Va bene,” I said somewhat nervously, unfolding the paper with trembling hands.

I hope you like my gift as much as I like looking at you

That's what the note said, in an elegant, mysterious handwriting. I read it several times, turning the note over looking for some clue of its origin, but to no avail.

“What does this mean?” I asked myself, running a hand over my forehead. “A-Angie, what…?”

“Oh, how interesting,” the doll said, taking the piece of paper and comically making the same gestures as me. “Who is it from?”

“How would I know?” I said, shaking my head and snatching the note from her. “I'm sure it's a joke.”

“Maybe it’s not,” the doll hummed. “Maybe someone likes you.”

“You've said a lot of stupid things over the years, but that was the biggest one,” I said, sighing and shaking my head. “They're probably poisoned.”

“Why would someone send you a note like that with poisoned chocolates? So I'm the one who says stupid things,” Angie said, getting down from the table with a mocking gesture. “I'm telling you that someone likes you.”

“That's impossible,” I said in a whisper, looking away from the sweets. “Well, we better forget about this matter and…”

“Forget about it? It's the most interesting thing that's happened to you in years,” the doll said, climbing onto my lap and shaking me by the shoulders. “And you're just going to leave it like that?”

“That's just what I'm going to do,” I said, closing the box and crumpling the paper in my hands, letting it fall to the floor.

I sighed again, looking at the crumpled note and, rolling my eye again, bent down to pick it up with an annoyed grunt.

“W-Well, I guess I could keep this,” I said, smoothing out the paper, looking closely at each of the letters. “If I find out who it was…”

“Oh, what are you going to do?” Angie said, looking at me intensely

“He'll pay dearly for it,” I said, crossing my arms. “If what he intended was to make me nervous…”

“He succeeded, huh?” Angie finished, mockingly tilting her head.

“No, shut up,” I said in a murmur, picking up the box and putting it on top of a shelf.

“What if it's not a joke?” Angie said, making me sigh. “What if some boy likes you?”

“Angie, forget about it,” I said with a brusque gesture. “B-Besides, you know that I'm not… interested in boys.”

“It might be a girl's,” the doll commented, sitting on the table, swinging her legs in a childish way. “If it were… would you change your mind?”

“My mind?” I asked with an unpleasant gesture. “No, she will pay dearly for it. Nobody laughs at me.”

“At this rate you will never get a girlfriend,” Angie said, with a dark tone.

“I don't need a girlfriend, I don't want a girlfriend, I'm not interested, is that clear?” I said nervously, but completely sincere. “For your own sake keep your mouth shut, or there will be consequences.”

“You're so weird, Donna,” Angie sighed, getting down from the table with an offensive gesture. “Boring!”

“Angie…” I growled furiously. “Stop… getting into my life,” I said with a sad look. “This has never happened.”

“Oh, my Donna, if I don't care about you… who will?” the puppet said, walking away from me. “Maybe your secret admirer will…”

“Taci!” I screamed angrily, clenching my fists on either side of my hips. “I don’t need anyone to worry about me… a-and anyone to send me chocolates… or whatever…” I stammered unintentionally, glancing at the box. “This is unbelievable… Come on, Angie, I have to work on my dolls…”

I tried to forget about the whole chocolate thing, but it was practically impossible.

My life was always a sad passage of misfortunes, tears and tragedies. Ever since I was a little girl, I refused to waste time talking to the people around me, I felt like no one could understand me, that all they did was look at my wounded eye, not at me.

I thought that maybe, just maybe, the fact that Mother Miranda had pity on me, accepting me as her daughter, offering me the gift of the Gods, would change something, but I was wrong.

Nothing changed apart from my already deformed face. Everything that was human in me disappeared, leaving behind a horrible scar. Being ashamed of my appearance was only one of the effects of that change, but not the only one. Luckily, or because I really was as alone and sick as my family liked to say, I was able to do something to remedy that dark void that had always been my life.

Thanks to Miranda and the Gods, I was able to turn my best friend, the only one who hadn’t abandoned me, my Angie doll, into something resembling a companion. I couldn't say how far her independence went, what exactly her mentality was like, if she had one, and if I did...

She was the complete opposite of me, and she was me at the same time. If I think about it carefully, I realize that, indeed, nothing changed after I stopped being the Beneviento girl to Lady Beneviento. I was always alone, I will always be alone.

I hardly thought about what my life would be like if I lost my fear, if I abandoned my black dress and veil and tried to be a little more like my siblings, a little more… less me. It was useless. A horrible monster, the dark lady of the dolls… That was a good summary of what the villagers thought of me.

Fear wasn’t respect, I didn't want respect, nor fear, I didn't want appreciation, nor love. I didn't want anything, I didn't know what love was, I didn't want to know. I was fine alone, with my dolls, with Angie… anything that distorted that peaceful solitude was nothing but a nuisance to me.

I never needed anyone. I never loved anyone, not even myself. Some people might think it was a sad life, but it wasn't exactly like that. What awaited me was an eternity of loneliness and darkness, and in time, I learned to accept it.

That incident with the chocolates didn't change my routine, but Angie's words stuck in my head.

“Mm…” I hummed quietly, with my mind focused on my little porcelain friends. They were always silent, they didn't bother me, they didn't talk, they didn't judge me… “That's it. You're a beautiful doll, aren't you? Mm, what eyes do you want me to give you?”

“I know I'm beautiful, you don't have to tell me,” Angie interrupted, laughing amused, to which I frowned, shaking my head.

“You should learn to enjoy silence, Angie,” I whispered, putting the doll on the table and studying its inert expression.

“And you should learn to relate to human beings,” the puppet mocked, laughing shyly, to get me off. “I like you more than chocolates…” she sighed, moving her hands exaggeratedly. “Hahahaha, how nice.”

“I told you I didn't want to talk about it again!” I squealed nervously at the doll's insistence. “Shut up or get out!”

“Oh, what a mood…” Angie protested, without moving from her spot. “You should eat one of the chocolates and…” she said, but, surely seeing my expression, she decided to stop making fun of me, for a moment. “Okay, I'll be good.”

“That's better,” I whispered, shaking my head and pointing at some paint cans. “Verde,” I murmured to the doll, who obeyed instantly.

“Green… green… I don't see it,” Angie said, with a calmer voice, but equally irritating.

“It has to be there, look better,” I said in a low voice, cleaning the imperfections of the porcelain.

“There's no green, Donna, paint them another color, I have a blue here that would be…” the puppet commented.

“No,” I said sternly. “I said verde.”

“And I told you there's no green, silly Donna,” Angie said, crossing her arms. “Why green?”

“Because I said so…” I hissed, more upset than usual.

I didn't like leaving the estate. Meetings with my family made me too nervous and… well, there was also the issue of chocolates. It was always difficult for me to control my madness, the trembling of my hands, the voices in my head. But that day was especially difficult, and Angie didn't help.

“Well, there isn't any,” the doll said.

“Look for it well, damn it!” I screamed furiously, hitting the table hard. “They have to be green, do you hear me? Verde!”

“Hey, what's wrong with you?” Angie said, getting down from the table, surely scared by my attitude.

“Forgive me, Angie…” I finally said, managing to calm down, to remedy the voices of my madness. “It's not a good day.”

“I see…” the doll said, walking towards me with a cautious attitude. “Why don't we go see the fat man for some paint? Maybe you could use some fresh air.”

“Angie… going back to the village is the last thing I need right now,” I said, running a hand over my forehead.

“What do you need?” she asked, looking at me intensely, resting a wooden hand on my back. “You know I would do anything for you, my Donna.”

“I-I know,” I said with a sad smile, letting the doll hug me. “Y-You know what? Maybe you're right and a… a walk will clear my mind.”

“Yes, yes! Let's go see the fat man,” she said, laughing amused and rubbing her hands.

I couldn't say why I accepted the offer so easily. My mind was somewhat dazed and confused. The box of chocolates was still in my head, as was that absurd note. Luckily, Angie listened to my pleas and put the subject aside. Surely she knew I was thinking about it.

The village was empty as always. Sometimes I imagined how it was a few minutes ago, if there were people on the streets, quiet people, with a quiet life, who ran away when they saw me appear.

It was hard for me to imagine a lonely village. Yes, surely everyone hid when they saw me…

“Hello, hello… Duke, Duke?” Angie called at the door of the warehouse where that greedy fat man used to be most of the time. “Hellooooooo. Hey, maybe he's not here and…”

The door opened slowly, but it wasn't a greedy fat man who appeared behind it, but a young woman... well, I had to admit that the first adjective that came to mind was simple and even vulgar: beautiful.

She seemed like a shy girl, or so her overly formal smile told me, one that slowly mutated into a look of surprise when she recognized me.

“La-Lady Beneviento,” the girl murmured, backing away, scared, as expected. “Oh, I...”

“W-Who are you?” Angie asked, imitating the girl's voice while laughing.

“I, I'm...Oh, how did you know that...? I mean, I didn't know that... that you... that I...” she said, visibly nervous, something that made me frown behind my veil and tilt my head curiously. “I mean, well, I'm sure you're asking me for an explanation, but...”

“What are you talking about, you silly, silly?” Angie asked, with part of my voice in her words. “Where is the fat man?”

“The Duke? Oh, of course… er… Are you looking for the Duke?” the villager asked, lowering her gaze.

“Of course, stupid, why else would we come here?” Angie said, pointing at her awkwardly. “To see you?”

“Well, maybe,” she murmured, clearing her throat and looking at me briefly, with that terrified spark that the villagers' eyes kept when they saw me. “But…”

“(Y/N)” a petulant voice appeared in the place. “Please don't keep Lady Beneviento waiting,” the Duke said from inside the building.

“Y-Yes, of course,” she said, bowing quickly and inviting us in.

I walked slowly, keeping my eye on hers. She was certainly a beautiful girl, very beautiful. I followed her with my gaze as she ran to the back of the store. She probably didn't realize I could see her but… she glanced at me quickly before pretending to search for something on a table.

“Do me a favor, continue with the Ionescu's order while I attend to this distinguished client…” the fat man said, pointing at some objects on that table, making the girl nod obediently. “Anyway…”

“Since when do you work with fools?” Angie asked, pointing at the young woman, who seemed to struggle not to look back at me.

“This job is complicated, Miss Angie, I needed some help,” the Duke said, with his perfectly rehearsed business pose. “Miss (Y/N) needed the job and… well… you know how generous I am.”

“Is this a joke?” Angie mocked, as I stared at the young woman, who seemed to be wrapping some boxes.

I thought that leaving my house might clear my thoughts, but it did the opposite. Those red bows… they looked too familiar. It looked like the same kind of bow that was on the box of chocolates. I stared at her, without her noticing, and after a few seconds, I shook my head.

I was starting to go crazy, seeing coincidences where there were none. My imagination, my madness, was always about that, never about reality. I had to relax.

“Donna!” Angie shrieked, snapping me out of my absurd thoughts. “Are you here? Should I tell the fat man what we want?”

“Please,” the merchant said, briefly looking where my eye was pointing. “Are you interested in anything you see, my lady?”

“Green, green paint, we want green paint,” Angie said, dominated by my control, in a stern, dark voice.

“Oh, of course… (Y/N), please…” the merchant said, gesturing with his hand.

“H-Here it is,” the girl said, with the jar already in her hands, slowly approaching me. “This color… my… my lady?”

I extended my free hand towards her and when it made contact with the paint, hers immediately disappeared, with a nervous gasp. Slowly, checking that it was the right color, I nodded.

“Oh, you're fast, silly,” Angie said, with an amused voice.

“If she weren't, she wouldn't be working for me,” the Duke commented, looking satisfied at his assistant. “I've been lucky.”

“Yes, yes, yes, come on, tell us how much,” the doll said, gesturing with her hand to quickly end the conversation. “And I hope you don't try to rip us off.”

“I would never dare, my lady,” the man said, knowing our dynamic, knowing that, although Angie was talking, it was I who was actually doing it. That fat bastard knew too much. “It’ll be… one hundred lei.”

“Here,” Angie said, as I handed him a bag of coins, briefly turning my gaze to the girl, who stood back, nervous.

“It’s a pleasure, as always,” he said, losing interest in us to check the money.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, whatever you say,” Angie said, as I started to walk out of the store. “Hey, silly! Bye!”

“B-Bye…” (Y/N) sighed, her voice weak.

On the one hand, I would have liked to know more about that secret admirer, that mysterious person who left me that gift. On the other hand, I felt relieved with the passage of time, with that overwhelming normality that returned to my life.

I stopped giving it importance. I learned to forget about that exit from routine to return to my beloved dolls, to my solitary life, to the refuge of the mansion walls. I couldn't help but think about that hidden person, that idiot who thought it was a good idea to play with me.

Sometimes, at night, I played at imagining who it was, if it was a disgusting villager, or maybe a beautiful woman. I would like to say that I didn't think about her too, about that girl who worked for the Duke, but I would lie.

A stupid villager, a beautiful woman... My thoughts began to wander between those two topics. (Y/N), and the person who said he or she liked me. Definitely, although it was hard for me to admit it, my life had changed, but I didn't know exactly how.

“Let's see if you can guess what I'm looking at…” Angie hummed as we strolled through the grounds.

Mysteriously, leaving the mansion was becoming easier and easier for me, but of course, it had nothing to do with that admirer, nothing, really…

“Mm, a tree,” I said, looking around, enjoying this walk through my lonely lands.

“Oh, no, no… you're wrong, silly Donna, what I see is… a bouquet of flowers?” Angie said, standing still in the snow, catching my attention.

“Cosa? Flowers?” I asked with tender curiosity, adoring that childish side of the doll. “Angie…”

“Yes, yes, yes… look, Donna, there,” the doll said, jumping in the snow and pointing to the end of the bridge that separated me from the villagers.

Sure enough, there was something.

I approached nervously, at the prominent sight of a perfect red bow surrounding some colorful flowers. Carefully, I bent down to pick it up.

“But… this?” I asked myself, looking at the bouquet with curiosity. “What is this?”

“I already told you, a bouquet of flowers,” Angie said, approaching me. “Oh, oh, oh, oh, is it from your secret admirer?”

“Are you still thinking that nonsense?” I asked annoyed, touching the delicate petals of those flowers. “I already told you that…”

“You can say whatever you want, I know what you think. You haven’t stopped leaving the mansion every day, surely to see if you could find something…” the puppet said, pointing at me accusingly.

“I-it's not true,” I said in a more childish tone than I would have liked, kicking the snowy ground and tightly gripping the bouquet.

“Say what you want,” Angie said, climbing up my clothes to look at the bouquet more closely. “Is there a note?”

“Um, I don't know,” I said murmuring, enthralled by the beauty of those flowers. “Wait, here...”

With a delicate gesture, I took a small envelope that was stuck to the bouquet, opening it with trembling hands.

“What does it say?” Angie asked, fidgeting impatiently in my arms.

I hope you liked the chocolates. I was looking at these flowers, and they seemed appropriate for a woman as beautiful as you.

“This doesn't make sense...” I murmured, reading the note over and over again. “That I'm beautiful? I was sure it was a joke...”

“Why?” Angie asked, grabbing the note roughly, snatching it from my hands.

“No one has seen my face, Angie, at least not someone who isn’t… too old,” I explained, tightly gripping the bouquet and looking around, hoping to find some trace of that unpleasant joker.

“What does that have to do with them thinking you’re beautiful? You are,” the doll said, clinging to me, probably because of my quick pace. “Hey, don’t run so fast!”

“T-this doesn’t make any sense,” I said nervously, slamming the door shut and throwing the flowers onto the hall table. “Don’t you understand, Angie? It’s a joke, a bad joke.”

“Well… you look nervous,” the doll mocked, climbing onto the table, where I kept the previous note. “Look, look, the handwriting matches, it’s from the same person.”

“That doesn't clear anything up for me,” I sighed, running a hand over my forehead, comparing the two notes. “There's no clue, and do you know why? Because it's a…” I couldn't finish the sentence, as a wooden hand covered my mouth.

“You and I both know it's not a joke… stop pretending you don't care,” Angie, with a tone that was too understanding for her. “You're nervous, irascible and erratic, more than usual,”

“Of course I am,” I said, sitting down in the rocking chair and rubbing my eye. “Angie, there's someone out there who's laughing at me.”

“Or there's someone out there who finds you interesting…” the doll corrected. “Why do you have to be so pessimistic?”

“I have no reason not to be,” I sighed, looking at the two pieces of paper. “Mm, the handwriting is elegant and rounded. It doesn't look like… a boy's, does it?” I said to myself.

“Would you like it to be a pretty girl?” Angie said, tilting her head in a playful way, making me laugh.

“W-Well, if it's true that there's someone who… who admires me… I'd like it to be,” I said with a smile, looking at the bouquet of flowers. “Look, they're beautiful, aren't they? They smell wonderful.”

“Oh, Donna… You're blushing,” the doll said, pointing at my face, which I covered with my hands.

“What? I, I don't believe in… those things…” I said, lowering my head, leaving the flowers on the table. “They're just fairy tales.”

“Oh, wouldn't you like to live one?” the doll asked, with a confident tone. “It seems that that mysterious person would like it.”

“Don't talk nonsense…” I sighed, shaking my head. “For me, those stories don't exist, Angie.”

“Well, I'd say... I see you smiling,” Angie whispered in my ear, making me blush again. “What are you going to do?”

“What? Oh, I... n-nothing,” I said frowning and waking up from some kind of impossible fantasy that my sick head was starting to create. “I-I guess nothing.”

“Nothing? Please, Donna,” the doll said, grabbing me by the shoulders. “You have to do something.”

“What? I have no way of knowing who... oh, no, no, no look, I confess that it intrigues me and... I feel, I feel things... but, what if it's not how I expected? What if it really is a joke?” I said somewhat nervously, with a cold sweat running down my neck. “It's better to leave it be.”

“Mm, come on, I have an idea,” Angie said, getting off my lap and motioning for me to come closer.

The puppet climbed up the phone table, starting to dial an unknown number. My hands started to shake.

“Hey, che cavolo sati facendo?” I asked, grabbing the phone in my hand.

“I’m just trying to help. I’d like to know what to do, but… I’m just a doll, after all,” Angie said, in a defensive pose. “It’s better to ask the professionals for advice.”

“Professionals? What…?” I muttered, blinking in confusion.

“Dimitrescu Castle…” a voice came from the other end, a tired, deep voice, my sister Alcina’s.

“Oh, um…” I said nervously, trying to scold Angie by knocking her off the table. “Alcina?”

“Donna?” she asked. “Dear, it’s always a pleasure to hear that beautiful voice… Or is Angie playing with the phone again?”

“Yes, no, um…” I said nervously, sighing exhausted, with my cheeks… red with embarrassment. “Yes, I think I need to talk to you.”

“Mm, I'm listening, dear, it's not usual for you to tell me something like that,” my sister said, amused. “What is it this time? Have you thought better about the maid?”

“No,” I said with a dry voice, lowering the volume little by little. “Um… I suppose I can tell you… Let's keep it between us.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” three shrill voices made me move away and almost hang up the phone. “Girls!” Alcina shrieked. “No spying!… okay, mother…” a dull sound indicated that the sisters had stopped listening. “Speak, dear, we're alone…”

I was nervous, but little by little, I managed to tell my sister the situation. Alcina listened attentively to my story, but I don't know if she was really pretending to listen to me. Nobody cared about me, not even my siblings.

“I see,” she sighed, laughing amused. “Donna, are you going to do anything?”

“That's why I'm calling you. I-I don't know what to do... I...” I murmured, looking at Angie out of the corner of my eye.

“Easy, bella...” said the lady in white, amused. “From what you've told me, I see a pattern in these gifts.”

“A pattern?”

“Mm, well, it's been just a week, right? What tells you that in seven days there won't be another little gift waiting for you?” my sister said, making me think.

“I hadn't thought about it,” I sighed, shaking my head.

“That's your perfect opportunity to clear up your doubts. Set an ambush for that little bird, I can't believe it hadn't occurred to you before,” Alcina said, in a honeyed voice.

“T-That's right, I have, I have to clear up my doubts,” I said, biting my lower lip, with my heart beating especially fast. “T-Thank you, Alcina…”

“No thanks, dear… I hope you'll keep me up to date,” she said, laughing mockingly. “That's it! Tell us everything!” the three sisters shouted into the phone. “Damn it… I told you to hang up the phone! You are…!”

I didn't let her continue talking. I simply hung up the phone nervously.

An ambush, a trap. It seemed too easy. I would have to wait seven days to find out what was behind those mysterious gifts.

My heart was always fragile. If I didn't find what I was expecting, that daring vermin would regret it forever.

The days passed slowly, too slowly. My demons, my fantasies, my fears danced in my head… Nightmares, sweet dreams… I began to lose my mind, to take out my frustrations on Angie, to count the hours, the minutes I had left to get out of my doubts.

Finally, luckily, the day arrived.

“How much longer are we going to be here, Donna?” Angie protested, pulling at my dress as we hid behind the ruins of what was once… my territory.

“Shh, shut up,” I said in a low voice looking at the deserted bridge, hoping to see something, anything, not to feel like I had wasted my time, for those strange illusions to suddenly disappear. “Just a little longer.”

“We've been here for hours,” the doll said, in a childish tone. “I'm going to freeze.”

“You're a doll, you don't feel the cold,” I said, with my gaze fixed on the road, without losing patience.

“I don't, but you do,” said the puppet. “Brr… Oh, wait, wait, look, look Donna, there.”

The doll pointed at a shadow that began to move the bridge, crossing it slowly. The cold was intense, yes, but among the mist and the snow I began to distinguish a walking figure. It was not a disgusting villager, some disturbed person, or a group of children wanting to play a joke.

The figure took the form of a woman, a young woman. No, not a woman, it was a girl. A girl with a slender but sad body, who walked slowly along the swinging bridge.

“Non può essere…” I murmured when her face became visible.

I recognized her instantly. It could be because of my good memory, or it could also be because, along with those strange gifts, that face had been wandering in my thoughts. I was so wrapped up in that mysterious person that her memory was barely a whisper, an image that appeared when I got tired of imagining who was sending me those gifts.

(Y/N), the Duke's assistant, that beautiful and shy girl that I found hard to forget, was crossing the border of my property, carrying something in her hands, a gift, a small box adorned with a striking red bow.

“Donna... it's...” Angie whispered when the girl was already getting too close, with a cautious look.

I would have liked to behave differently, not give in to my nerves and the shock of that revelation, but I couldn't do it. Abruptly, I came out of my hiding place, just at the moment when the girl bent down to put the gift on the ground.

“Hey, you!” Angie shouted, running in front of me, scaring (Y/N), who had no choice but to run away.

“Oh, shit…” I heard her growl, running back towards the bridge, not bothering to look back, throwing the gift to the ground.

“Hey, don't run away, rat! Come here!” Angie shrieked, being picked up by me in a hurry, walking quickly towards the young girl.

“No, no! Ah!” she screamed, tripping loudly on a root and falling to the ground with a hiss of pain. “No, no please. I can, I can explain, I…”

Her babbling wasn’t able to distract me from my slower walk, until I stood in front of her, looking down at her, not knowing what to say, or what to do. Luckily, my black veil hid my emotions, my eye wide open, a smile of relief at knowing it was her. It was always her.

“Start talking, silly girl,” Angie said, with a cocky tone. I, meanwhile, just watched the shine in her eyes, her panicked expression.

“O-Okay, but don't kill me, my lady, please, I…” the girl said, rubbing her back due to the blow, standing up awkwardly, with trembling legs.

“You're the Duke's assistant,” I said in my own voice, something that surprised even Angie. My voice was hoarse, dark, but it was my voice, after all.

“Oh, um… -Y-yes, I'm…”

“(Y/N), I remember you,” I said again, taking a step closer to her. “It was you, right?”

“Um, I… I'm sorry my lady, I-I think I shouldn't be here and…” she said nervously, looking around for a place to escape. “I won't bother you anymore, I promise, I…”

I didn't pay attention to her words, I simply bent down to the ground, picking up the small package and shaking the snow off of it.

“Oh, that, forget it, it's…” (Y/N) said, trying to snatch it from me, something I stopped with a quick movement of my hands. “No, please…”

“Isn't it for me?” I asked in a small voice, taking advantage of the situation, of the paralysis that her body was feeling at that moment.

“Y-Yes, it's for you,” she said, lowering her head, on the verge of tears. “Please, Lady Beneviento, I… I'll, I'll leave.”

“Angie, don't let her go,” I murmured to the doll, who walked in front of me, intimidating the nervous and scared (Y/N).

“Of course, Donna,” the puppet said, getting too close to her.

“Mm,” I murmured, slowly removing the wrapping and opening the small box, which contained something shiny, similar to a bracelet. “Cos' è questo?”

“What? I, I…” she said, walking away slowly, something she couldn't do for a long time, since Angie was watching her back. “I-It's a… bracelet… I, I made it and…”

“Mm, a bracelet,” I repeated indifferently, looking inside the box, where there was, as always, one of those folded papers.

“No, no, no, no! Please!” the young woman screamed, moving towards me, desperately trying to snatch the note from me, something she didn't manage. “Please…”

“Stay still,” I said abruptly, sounding like an order that she simply couldn't disobey.

Not even the most beautiful flower, nor the brightest jewel, could compare to you

“Mm,” I murmured, looking over the note at the trembling young woman, blushing like blood, looking everywhere but at me. “Come.”

“W-W-What?” she asked, really scared, when I started walking towards the mansion.

“Are you deaf, silly? Come on, walk, walk,” Angie said, laughing sinisterly and pushing (Y/N)'s legs. Making a superhuman effort, she started walking.

I didn't trust her, I spent the whole way looking back, checking that she was following me. I didn't think she was capable of doing it, but she did.

“Siedeti,” I whispered to her at home, indicating a small corner with a sofa.

“What?” she asked, looking at the floor, still shaking.

“Cazzo…” I cursed, grabbing her arm roughly and pushing her onto the sofa. “I said, sit down,” I growled furiously, without knowing why.

“O-Okay, I'm sorry,” she said, barely in a voice.

“Stay there,” I ordered her again, leaving the bracelet and the note on a table. “Angie.”

“Yes, I'm watching her…” the doll said, climbing onto the sofa and rubbing her hands.

I went down to the kitchen, wiping the sweat from my forehead. I finally had before me the two things that had been wandering through my head: that beautiful girl, and my secret admirer. I could never imagine that shy girl could have anything to do with all of this, to me she was just that, a pretty girl who… well, I wouldn't have minded her being my maid.

Nervous, almost breathless, I prepared some tea, mentally preparing myself to have some kind of conversation with her, to know how to clear up all my doubts, how to answer the questions that had been tormenting me all that time. I couldn't call Alcina, I had acted too quickly, Angie wouldn't help me, I was alone.

“Tea,” I said abruptly, putting the tray down on the coffee table in front of (Y/N), startling her with the noise, causing her to shrink on the couch.

“T-T-Tea?” she stammered, as if I had said something stupid.

“T-T-Tea?” I mocked unpleasantly. My nerves and my sick mind were playing tricks on me. “Chiudi il becco, I'm making the questions”.

“Sorry, sorry,” she said, lowering her head.

I sat down in front of (Y/N) and stared at her. Naturally, she didn't move an inch, she was frozen in fear.

“Um, Donna,” Angie whispered to me, getting my attention. “Easy…”

“Mm, (Y/N),” I said, ignoring the doll's warnings at my scary and dark attitude. “Do you know who I am?”

“Donna Beneviento,” the girl murmured, without looking at my face, at that black veil that hid my ugliness.

“Bingo,” Angie said, climbing back onto the sofa to intimidate the young woman. I thought she would faint at any moment.

“Do you know what happens to stupid people who dare to bother me?” I asked again, with a darker voice. “Don't you drink tea?” I asked in a different tone, almost unintentionally.

“I'm a bit nervous, my lady,” she said, clenching her clothes with her fists. “Yes, I know what happens when…”

“You've done it several times,” I said, pointing with my hand at the flowers and the box of chocolates.

“Yes,” she admitted, closing her eyes, clasping her hands in a pathetic pose. “I beg you, my lady, have mercy on me, I just wanted…”

“What did you want?” I asked impatiently, crossing my arms. “To laugh at me? Was it a bet or something?”

“What? No, of course not,” (Y/N) said, shaking her head, as if that insinuation had really offended her. “I did it voluntarily.”

I looked at Angie, who shrugged. I really needed Alcina's help at that moment…

“Why?” I asked nervously, with a demanding tone. “Don't try to lie to me, you silly girl, I'll know.”

Her face told me she was willing to tell the truth. I couldn't help but smile. Of course, I wasn't able to tell if she was lying.

“I… I just want to leave, please, I promise not to come back and…” she said, getting up hastily from the sofa, something that I prevented again with a brusque gesture, lowering her body by her shoulders.

“Sit down and drink your tea.”

“O-Okay,” she said, fearfully taking the cup.

“Don't make me lose my patience,” I threatened in vain. Her beauty couldn't be hurt. I couldn't hurt something so beautiful, even if I wanted to. “Speak.”

“O-One day…” the girl began, trembling even more, looking for a fixed point to look at that wasn't my non-existent gaze. “One day, shortly after the Duke hired me, you appeared in the warehouse, I think, I think you wanted a grey fabric with…”

“With ruffles and a rough feel,” I finished for her, making her nod nervously. “Do you remember… How curious, I don't remember you.”

“W-Well, I guess you don’t. I didn't want to show myself, and even less in front of someone like, like you…” she explained with a voice broken by fear, but terribly sincere. “I had a bad idea about you, and I would be lying if I said I wasn't afraid but…”

“But,” I said with that same dark tone, one that I couldn't avoid, although I would have liked to.

“But when I saw you… I didn't see a horrible monster, I didn't see that legend that the elders talk about at night… I only saw a woman… a young woman dressed in mourning and I began to wonder… why such terrible things were said about you,” she said with a low voice, losing her fear, apparently.

“Is that why you sent me those gifts? Nothing you say makes sense, (Y/N),” I said confused, nervous, losing my patience little by little. “Those things you said…”

“I was telling the truth,” (Y/N) said abruptly, with an intense look that pierced my chest. “I wanted to make you feel good and… well, working for the Duke gave me a certain idea of the things you might like.”

“I'll only ask you once, (Y/N),” I said, slowly getting up, intimidating her. “What do you want from me?”

“To get to know you”

A verb, some simple words served to relax my attitude. Nobody, nobody had ever wanted to get to know me, to have anything to do with me and… she… that beautiful girl… gave me gifts, told me those things because… just because she wanted to get to know me?

I was nervous, confused, I didn't understand what her intentions were, why, the reason for everything she had done… for me. I relaxed, I calmed down. I let that beautiful girl ask me things about me, interests… tastes, hobbies…

It had been too long since I had a conversation like that, I don't think I ever had one. (Y/N) was a smart, funny girl, shy, but willing to get what she wanted, to exchange words with me, even if I wasn't sure.

After that tea came many others, conversations that were less and less awkward in which the girl dedicated herself to telling me about her past, what she expected from the future. Any other thought that wasn't about her had no place in my mind. I couldn't stop seeing her face in my dreams, hearing her voice.

My heart raced with her presence, it was sad when she left. Angie was clear about what was happening to me, but I wasn't.

“I have to go," (Y/N) said with a smile, after an entire afternoon of insipid, empty chatter, or at least that's how I saw it. “Thank you very much for the tea, and for... well, for spending time with me.”

“Wait,” I said, failing in my attempt to hide my nervousness about these new feelings that were beginning to torment me. “I have a question for you, (Y/N).”

“S-Sure, Donna, ask whatever you want,” she said, laughing nervously, fighting off Angie's teasing.

“Do you believe in love?” I asked, perhaps abruptly, making her step back and drop her jaw.

“Oh, um… of course I do,” she said, blushing, like every time she spent time with me. I would die for that smile. “Love is the most beautiful thing in this world.”

“That's a lie. The most beautiful thing in the world is you,” I said without thinking, with my voice coming out of my mouth alone, with the words abandoning my will.

“Oh, Donna, that's… wow… that's…” she said even more nervously, getting a little closer to me.

“I have a problem, (Y/N),” I said, ready to be honest. “I have feelings for you, but I don't know how to interpret them, I was hoping you could help me.”

“Really? Do you have feelings for me?” she asked, getting even closer, playing with her hands. “That's…”

“What is it?” I asked, taking a step towards her. “My heart races when I see you, my hands sweat, they shake when you're near.”

“T-That's a pretty explicit description… but, but it's very similar to what I feel for you, Donna,” she said in a low voice. “ Even since before… I met you.”

“Nonsense,” I said somewhat sadly, shaking my head. “I have the right to feel those things because I see your beauty every day. You don't.”

“Love goes far beyond beauty, Donna,” she said whispering, breathing heavily. “I can love you, even if I can't see your face.”

“Then I'll change your mind,” I said with a broken voice, gently removing the veil from my face, making the only chance to discover what love was vanish along with the black cloth.

“Oh, Donna,” the girl said, whispering again, almost without a voice, looking at every corner of my horrible face. “I wasn't wrong, you're beautiful.”

“Does love make you a liar?” I said, frustrated by my ugliness, by a beauty I would never have.

“Love is the only thing I feel when I’m with you,” she murmured, taking a last step closer, making our bodies closer than ever.

Silence fell upon us abruptly. There were no words, only glances, only her bright eyes, fixed on mine. My hand moved on its own, ready to experience for itself the softness of her skin, caressing her cheek, her real beauty…

She did the same, staring at me intensely, causing my whole body to tense up and making me unable to move. Her head tilted as she ran her hands over my face, bringing it closer and closer, until it happened.

Her soft lips rested on mine, caressing my monstrous face with a warm kiss, one I couldn't respond to until I realized that this was love, the feeling that drove my heart out of control when she was near, all the sensations that kiss, that first kiss, caused in a sad and gloomy soul like mine.

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

76 notes · View notes