#but other than that i didn't really heard anything

[quicksilverblue]

Sorry to add on here, but this wouldn't make sense separately.

I have always loved Eowyn. Long before I had really experienced despair or what it meant to be doomed by the narrative. There was something about her that resonated on a soul level that I could not have explained when I was young. I probably would have just said it was because "sword horse girl!"

But I realized something today as I was reflecting on the past two days.

In class on Wednesday, I led the students in a discussion about Tillich. On Monday, we'll discuss Bonhoeffer.

I did not plan for these two readings because of Tuesday. They fell where they always fall on the schedule. The timing just worked out.

I love Bonhoeffer, but I always feel guilty when I read him. He literally gave everything to fight oppression. I'm afraid to go too far because of my situation.

I jokingly told one class that Bonhoeffer is goals except for the getting executed part.

And then I lay in bed trying to figure out what more I can do. Wondering if it is soon time to risk everything. Even if it means my safety, well being, or life.

A colleague has heard me before express my doubt that I am doing enough. That I so often think that I am the collaborator by my silence. This colleague is a scholar in resistance movements. I ran in him today, and he stopped what he was doing to tell me not to despair. To not let them win. That that's what they want. They aren't good enough, they don't deserve my despair.

And I said I'm trying not to. That I'm trying to figure out how I can be more for the community. Be more of a helper.

And wow, did he jump on that. He reminded me you can't help unless you help yourself. As someone else put it, the whole air bag airplane thing.

But he took it further. He told me of activists who died, not because they crossed the oppressor and were executed, but because they gave so much for the fight that they didn't take care of themselves. The fight lost them because they gave too much too fast.

And that hit harder than anything.

Later, I was reflecting on that and thought of this post.

And I realized, that's what I was doing. Planning for a quick death in battle rather than the drawn out doom despair was whispering in my ear.

So I am trying to go to the Houses of Healing before I'm overcome by the Black Breath and need to be called back.

Maybe others need to hear that too.

I do love that you can see the influence of Tolkien meaning for Eowyn to die throughout her arc. That girl just screams "doomed by the narrative". She's set up for this grand yet tragic death, and wants for nothing else than a grand exit and a glorious end to all things.

But having her live is so much more interesting. And having her live to find happiness especially. She seems like a tragic character. She thinks herself a tragic character. She is overwhelmed by a sense of doom and helplessness. Her narrative is overwhelmed by a sense of doom and helplessness.

But she isn't doomed.

Turns out, decent healthcare, clued in and concerned family members, and a decent support base, go a long towards towards un-dooming her narrative.

[dilemmars]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“ DIE WITH A SMILE. ”⠀⠀───⠀⠀arcane.

⠀⠀𝖾𝗉𝗂𝗌𝗈𝖽𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖾.⠀( welcome to the playground , 7.7k words. )⠀by dilemmars.

1.⠀⠀ PAIRING⠀⠀:⠀⠀violet x f!reader.

2.⠀⠀GENRES⠀⠀:⠀⠀based on the storyline and universe of arcane ( league of legends tv show )⠀; first love trope, started dating recently, stablished relationship, exes to lovers. basically you and vi were dating before the start of the story, then got separated.

3.⠀⠀WARNINGS⠀⠀:⠀⠀i will add the warnings that the tv show has: slight presence of sex and nudity, foul language, alcohol, drugs and tobacco. moderate scenes of fear and terror. high content of violence and gore. in this first chapter, not more than that. pretty calm chapter, introductory. some steamy kissing hehe.

4.⠀⠀AUTHOR 'S NOTE⠀⠀:⠀⠀first chapter out! i really really hope you like this silly story! this is just the beginning, a little bit of introduction to the backstory of the characters, and scenes you already know from the show. enjoy 🤍

5.⠀⠀IMPORTANT⠀⠀:⠀⠀this is a work of fiction. i do not own arcane or any content produced or owned bychristian linke, alex yee, riot games or netflix. all rights belong to netflix and the writers of arcane. all plot events and character developments that are not related to the main character's story belong to the writers and creators of the series.

You rested your hand on the rough wooden wall after reaching the last step, and paused your movements. Just for an instant, you allowed yourself to close your eyes and take a breath of air. You rolled one of the screws you'd been working with between your fingers, the shine of the stained metal glinting next to the chipped nails painted a dirty maroon colour, and forced yourself to walk along the small landing at the back of The Last Drop. You ignored the dull ache in your ankle, which crept up your leg if you stepped too hard, and the animated murmur of people greeted you as you opened the door, swallowing the silence that had surrounded you for most of the afternoon.

Despite the heavy gloom that shrouded the downside of the town, you had to squint at the large lamps in the shop, illuminating the large room with an amber light. You tucked the screw in one of the pockets of your cargo trousers, rotating your shoulders to release some of the tightness that had taken over them after an afternoon slouching in the studio, and made your way clumsily towards the bar counter. You caught a glimpse of Vander's broad back skilfully pouring two pints of beer for one of The Last Drop's regulars, and grimaced. You knew he would be working —it was his establishment, after all— but you didn't want to meet his disapproving gaze.

You raised your hand in a quick wave when the guy who had just paid for the two beers, Huck, smiled at you, and you mentally thanked that Vander was too busy following him with his eyes to notice that you had disobeyed his request for rest. You let him concentrate on the irregular-looking meeting the man with the dark ponytail was about to carry out with the two strangers Vander watched over, vigilant, and slid awkwardly under the plank that separated the inside of the bar from the rest of the place. Hopefully, if he was too busy he wouldn't say anything.

‘Where did you leave your watchdog, sweetheart?’ you heard, and got startled by how close Sevika's low, honeyed voice sounded, sitting on one of the bar's high stools, the criminal's sharp gaze glinting with amusement, hidden behind her own jug.

‘None of your business,’ you replied, but a smile danced on your lips as you faced her, your hands resting on the metal cover of the counter, damp against your skin. She smiled too, a sort of reply to the game you always played with each other, and set the jug down in front of you.

‘But it's strange not to see her glued to you,’ she replied, the caricaturistic pout in her mouth a mocking sneer at the person she was talking about, Vander's older adopted daughter.

Her golden breastplate shimmered under the spotlights hanging from the ceiling above you, her dark jacket fading into the shadows, and you rolled your eyes playfully. You could hear a soft melody from the gramophone you had managed to fix a few months ago, but it was completely drowned out by the shouts of those winning and losing at the pool tables to your right. Sevika loved to pick on you, throwing comments that you answered in a scathing manner, with that haughty little girl's mask that had earned you a fight or two.

They were harmless words. She'd throw a jab, you wouldn't stay silent. But that night the absence of the lively group of teenagers Vander was in charge of seemed more present than usual, and it made your heart hammer just to think that their unaccustomed delay was because something unexpected had happened. You reached into the inside pocket of your threadbare leather vest and pulled out the old hand-watch you always carried with you. The hands seemed to be moving too fast, a tick-tock-tick-tock that anticipated an uncertain outcome.

‘I thought I told you to stay downstairs,’ Vander murmured behind you, the comforting sound of his voice enveloping you like the hand he rested on your shoulder. His fists had once been wielders of daunting violence, you'd been told, his strong, dangerous-looking arms characteristics attached to his name and reputation, but you'd only known the tenderness with which they could embrace you.

‘I get bored alone in there,’ you confessed, pouting, ignoring the breathy laughter of the criminal in front of you. It wasn't true, as everyone who met you knew how easily you were able to abstract yourself in any situation. The truth was that the living room of the small home Vander had built under the pub felt lifeless if your friends weren't in it.

You didn't say it, but it was implied in the softness that tinged the man's gaze when he looked at you. He slid his hand from your shoulder to your arm, as he had done so often since you had known him, always a gesture of understanding and comfort, and you listened to his reproach with brows furrowed upwards, accepting his words.

‘Still, you shouldn't overwork that foot until it's fully healed.’

Sevika made a noise of affirmation, a victim of enough injuries to know what was best for a simple sprain, and it served as enough convincing to let Vander take you by the waist and sit you in one swift movement on the counter. A sigh of relief spilled from your mouth, which you didn't hold back just to let the bartender know he was right, and you thanked him with a smile, the clock still racing against time in your hand.

They weren't back yet, and you couldn't ask Vander if he'd heard anything about a disturbance topside, because it would imply that you had full knowledge of what your friends were up to behind their father's back. It had been a mistake to rush into planning the heist, and even more so knowing that you could not be a part of it, having been forced to rest after a silly sprained ankle a couple of weeks ago while trying to jump from one building to another. It had been a bet with Mylo, the annoying middle brother who knew what strings to pull to make you act out of pride, but you had all agreed not to tell anyone about it.

He disappeared into the crowd with his inseparable pipe between his lips, and you deflated, sliding off the bar and onto the floor to run away.

‘Can I have another before you go, you damned little wraith?’ asked Sevika, pushing her empty jug towards you with her fingers, compassion floating in her gaze. She too had been a child, she too had kept secrets from her father.

You merely nodded, turning back to her to pick up the metal glass, and stood on your tiptoes to reach the beer tap, wincing as you flexed your ankle. You waited for the bubbling foam to reach the rim of the jug, almost spilling over your fingers, and your pulse trembled as you caught a fleeting glimpse of turquoise hair in the back of the crowd. The same turquoise hair that you had braided and decorated that very morning, still sitting up in bed, with a twin screw to the one in your pocket.

Powder. The youngest of all of you, last in the group line. Leading the way, Vi's strong figure, camouflaged under the hood of a sleeveless jacket, marking a quick step towards the door you had exited just minutes before. Your heart began to stutter against your ribcage, realising that they wouldn't be coming in unnoticed, head down, if something terrible hadn't happened. And they weren't carrying the backpack they'd left with.

You set Sevika's jug down on the counter perhaps a little harder than necessary, giving her a nod by way of farewell, and duck under the table to retrace your steps, limping your way to the door through which Vander's four adopted children had just sneaked in. Your breath caught in your throat as you took the first step, pain running like electricity through the muscles in your leg, but you clenched your teeth and continued forward, stumbling as you opened the second door, pausing for a moment before attempting to continue on one foot.

‘Vander learns none of this,’ Vi was saying, her raspy voice cutting through the air in a sharp warning.

Oh, no. Something had definitely gone wrong.

Whatever Mylo was about to say got drowned out by the silence the four of them fell into as you put your injured foot on one of the wooden timbers you had marked as squeaky, and you bit your lip, placing most of your weight on the handrail. You knew that if your ankle still hadn't healed after two weeks it was because you were incapable of sitting still, but every time you got a jolt of pain like that, you wished you'd laid in bed for days. You bent over slightly, frowning, muttering a soft, ‘It's me, it's me, don't worry’.

You heard Vi's quiet sigh as you massaged your ankle, the soft sound of the armchair as she stood up, and every step she took until you saw the tips of her boots on the step below the one you were on. She rested the palm of her hand between your shoulder blades, and you let its warmth run across the leather of your vest, feeling her hand slide to the small of your back, its comforting touch making you let out a soft whimper. When you looked up you saw concern swimming in her gaze. All you wanted was to flash a calming smile.

‘It's alright,’ you said, taking a breath, carefully placing your foot on the floor and getting up. ‘I'm alright, how are you guys?’

‘We're good, cupcake,’ she whispered, sliding her hand around your waist, drawing circles with her thumb over the small sliver of skin between your vest and the waistband of your trousers, as if in a rehearsed choreography: the uneasiness of one face mirroring the distress of the other, both trying to reassure one another. ‘Come here, yeah?’

You huffed, but let her anyway. Vi moved her hand slightly up, towards the curve of your waist, hovering over you, and you had to stifle a gasp as she caught you in her arms, her warm palm against your back once it slipped under your shirt. You couldn't help the way the end of your lips curved upwards, a mirror image of the one you felt on hers as she pressed a quick kiss to your temple, and you slipped an arm around her neck as she began to descend the stairs, pressing you against her body.

‘You stink,’ you said, ignoring the way her t-shirt clung to her sweaty chest, how the fringe of her pinkish hair fell over her eyes. You tucked it behind her ear, sliding your fingers over the bruise that had already begun to form on her cheek, and frowned. ‘What happened?’

‘Powder jinxed the plan,’ Mylo replied, and you turned to him, who was sprawled on the couch, next to Claggor, his feet on the coffee-table, his arms folded, and looking just as dishevelled and dirty as the rest. ‘Again,’ he added, and Vi's chest rose with a tired sigh alongside you.

‘I tried, okay?’ replied Powder, wrinkling her freckled nose as Vi turned around the couch she was sitting on, with you in her arms. ‘You don't get it,’ the little girl complained, ‘you're older, you're bigger.¡ You left a soft kiss on Vi's jaw as a silent thank you before she carefully settled you down next to her sister, and you tried to imagine what had happened to make Powder have to defend herself that way. ‘It, it isn't fair.’

You caught a glimpse of Mylo's gaze, his eyebrows raised in disbelief, and then you turned your face to Powder, huddled against the sofa with his knees drawn up to his chest. And you got angry. It wasn't the first time the boy had reflected his own insecurities back at her, jabbing at her with phrases that undermined her confidence, and though you always tried to keep your cool, telling him off in private afterwards, there were times when it pained you not to stand up for her out loud so as not to pick a fight.

‘Of course it isn't fair,’ you interjected, glaring at Mylo, folding your good leg under your body to make yourself more comfortable. You felt Powder's eyes on you, hanging on your every word. ‘You're more experienced too,’ you continued, leaning your head against the backrest in a lazy gesture, as if the conversation was boring you. ‘I still remember the kind of things you used to do when you were Powder's age.’

Before you could tell some ridiculous anecdote about him, at least to try to cheer Powder up, the door burst open, Vander's powerful figure appeared in the doorway, and the words died in your throat. Tense, the five of you stood still, waiting for a reaction from the owner of The Last Drop.

‘Everyone alright?’ he asked, coming down the stairs agonisingly slowly.

You saw Mylo remove his feet from the table in a hurry, sitting up, and the tightness in his attempt at a smile as he spoke.

‘Never better,’ he replied.

‘Good,’ Vander pronounced, his voice dangerously calm, taking his time getting downstairs. ‘I don't suppose you can explain why it is that hearing about an explosion and a foot chase topside?’

You didn't see him, but you heard his footsteps behind you, calculated, restrained, and it took you a second longer than necessary to process the words that had just come out of his mouth. An explosion? And a chase, a foot chase. You opened your eyes in surprise and turned slightly towards him, but he wasn't looking at you, his gaze locked on Vi. He'd known about it practically all afternoon and hadn't said anything to you. It was obvious. You wondered if he wouldn't ask you to stay downstairs instead of helping him pour beer to keep you from finding out too. Would Sevika have any idea of that?

‘Four children fleeing the scene,’ he added, as if it wasn't clear enough.

If the enforcers had chased them to the limits between topside and undercity, they would do whatever it took to search house to house and find the culprits. Especially after collapsing a building, and particularly if valuables had been stolen. You felt Powder's hand slip around your arm, hiding in the tiny gap between your body and the couch, and you tried to make eye contact with Vi, unsure of what to say without really knowing the circumstances of what had happened, but she avoided your gaze.

‘What the hell were you thinking?’ inquired Vander, the measured tone doing nothing to try and disguise the frustration in his words.

Your heart raced in your chest. There had been many versions of the conversation that had started, softer, more lighthearted, in the past, but you could tell the anger buried in father and daughter with just a glance —Vi's frown, her fists clenched, and the tension in Vander's shoulders. Vi's voice didn't falter as she answered.

‘That we can handle a real job.’

Vander's response was just as quick, his scepticism lashing out like a whip, ‘A real job?’

‘We got our tip, planned a route, nobody even saw.’ she said, and just the quick glance she gave you after uttering it made you bite your tongue. She said we, which wasn't a lie, but she used the loophole of your involvement in the planning so that Vander wouldn't scold you too.

‘You blew up a building!’ he exclaimed, and you flinched.

‘That wasn't…’ Vi blinked at her father, as if the fact that they were all home meant it hadn't been that big a deal, but was interrupted by a barrage of accusatory questions.

‘Did you even stop to think about what could have happened to you?’ demanded Vander, and you began to feel the guilt creep up your throat. ‘Huh? To them?’

You perceived the way Vander pointed towards the two couches facing each other, the ones where you and Powder and the two boys were sitting, but you weren't really looking at him. Once he had said it, you could only notice everything you hadn't when you had seen them after their absence: the little girl's scraped knee, Claggor's bloody shirt around his neck, the tiny particles of dust and plaster in Mylo's spiky hair. The bruise you'd caressed, a gaping cut on Vi's other cheekbone.

Playing at being criminals was practically harmless in the undercity, always backed by Vander's intimidating reputation, but going up to Piltover to loot was something else entirely. There was a risk that became all too real, you moved under rules that applied differently to those who came from where you were from. It had been too dangerous, a hazard you hadn't seen when you had planned it from the comfort of your room, and you had been the one to send them up there, while you stayed in the safety of The Last Drop.

You heard Vander sigh, defeated.

‘Where did you even get this tip?’

You felt Powder stir beside you, leaning out so her father could hear her better, ‘We just heard it at Benzo's.’

‘From?’

‘Little Man?’ she muttered in reply, unsure if telling the truth was safe, even if it was the right thing to do.

You wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her against you, as soon as you saw Vander's brow begin to furrow. He obviously didn't think it was good advice coming from an eleven-year-old, you'd seen it coming —and that was why you hadn't wanted to say anything to him— but Ekko was worth a lot more than the adults liked to think, with those quick legs and the ability to put together the most complex gadgets to learn all the secrets and whispers of Benzo's shop.

You saw Vander open his mouth to respond, but before he could articulate a word, Vi shot up from the couch, storming with anger in her voice, ‘I took us there,’ she said, face to face with her father. ‘If you wanna be mad, be mad at me. But you're the one that says we have to earn our place in this world.’

Vander sighed again, as if he were exhausted from facing the same conversation all the time.

‘I also told you time and again the Northside's off limits,’ he repeated, as he had so many times before. ‘We stay out of Piltover's business.’

‘Why?’ reproached Vi, and you could see the change in her gaze, that shift that suggested that she had had enough too, but of witnessing the social injustice that went on every day in your country, and of no one doing anything to stop it. ‘They've got plenty, while we're down here scraping together coins. When did you get so comfortable living in someone else's shadow?’

The intensity of her words left you breathless, amazed that she had dared to utter what she had so often whispered to you when she was angry with Vander and needed someone to talk to. There was a deathly silence in the room, tense and thick, and you all respected it, knowing that the conversation had become too personal.

‘Everyone out.’

You made the attempt to stand up, ready to intervene, to try to negotiate a situation in which no one regrets what can be said, even if you don't have a say in the situation. Play mediator, something you've always been good at. But before you can open your mouth, Vander is giving you a harsh look.

‘Out,’ he repeated.

You looked up at Vi, who was frowning, but her eyes softened as she met yours and saw your expression. She nodded almost imperceptibly, resting a hand on your shoulder, and helped you up to get out of there. You knew they needed to talk to each other, but it stung that you couldn't be there to protect her if Vander went too far with his words. You sighed, remembering that he would never hurt his children, and limped a few metres, followed by Powder.  You heard Claggor and Mylo rise behind you, waiting for you to go up the stairs. You were prideful enough not to accept help from anyone, even if your cheeks were flushed red from how long it took you to get to the top.

You closed the door after Powder passed last, and leaned your back against the wooden surface, closing your eyes for a moment. You were grateful that Mylo didn't make any of his comments, and only turned away when Powder demanded your attention, puffing upwards at her fringes.

‘Can I go look in the pipes outside?’ she murmured, her restless legs trembling to get the hell out of there.

‘Yes, of course,’ you replied, smiling at her. 

You placed a hand on the wall once you saw her disappear down the stairs where Claggor had sat, and took a step towards him, leaning on his shoulder so that you could sit next to him. You rested your head on his shoulder, sighing, and ignored the gadget Mylo pulled out of one of his many pockets to gossip the conversation.

‘Was it that bad?’ you asked, your voice low.

‘Pretty much,’ Claggor told you, shifting underneath you. ‘We don't know what caused the explosion, we just ran out of there as soon as it happened.’

‘But you're all okay, aren't you?’ you wanted to clarify, trying to imagine all the scenarios that had happened. You hadn't seen many explosions in your life, but the four of them had come back in one piece, and that would have to calm you down. It should, at least.

‘Except for the part where Powder lost the bag we were bringing the stuff in,’ Mylo chimed in, glueing his ear to the goldish device, and you rolled your eyes. He had to be joking, putting a couple expensive items above his and everyone else's safety.

‘We're all okay, yeah,’ Claggor replied, and you turned your head slightly so you could smile at him. ‘How are you doing with the...?’

‘Shh,’ interrupted the youngest of you three, his eyes widening, ‘Vander's telling her that it's her responsibility what happens to us.’

‘I'm fine, Clag,’ you continued, ignoring Mylo's words. ‘It hurts less and less every day.’

‘And now he's asking for the stuff!’ he interrupted again, raising his voice slightly.

‘You are aware that eavesdropping on other people's conversations is rude, right?’ you sighed, shooting him an amused look, knowing he wouldn't care. Mylo was a nosy one.

He didn't answer you, too busy analysing every word of what was being said on the other side of the door, and you shook your head slightly, leaning part of your body against Claggor. You felt your ankle throbbing, protesting at the effort you had put it through, and your head was beginning to ache. You needed to think of something to convince Vander that it wasn't all Vi's fault, that if there was a punishment, it wouldn't fall on the rest of them.

Staring blankly at the floor, you waited. You decided you would follow Vander back to the bar to talk to him, even if it was just to find out how the situation had affected both the topside and Vi. You figured she'd want to be alone, but when she felt ready you'd return to her arms, as always. And then Claggor tapped your knee gently, urging you to pay attention, and you saw the look of concentration on Mylo's face as he failed to hear Vander's heavy footsteps —which you could literally hear without his gadget.

When he finally realised that the man was on the other side of the door, he jerked away, turning hurriedly to pretend that he had been waiting with you and Claggor, his back to both of you. The towering figure of Vander appeared with a large sack slung over his shoulder, and a scowl on his face, though it was the serious face he adopted in his day to day life. Perhaps it hadn't gone so badly after all.

‘Get up, Claggor,’ he said, closing the door behind him, ‘we're going out.’

‘Wait, now?’ he complained, huffing.

You lifted your head from his shoulder, offering him an apologetic smile. If your foot were okay you would have offered to accompany Vander in his place, but even in that situation you had to recognise that too much walking would cause irreparable damage to your ankle. You stroked his shoulder encouragingly, grimacing as you saw the colour the bruise in his eye was beginning to take on, and watched him stand up, as Vander snatched Mylo's  device from him.

You listened to his complaints as Vander ignored them, and ducked your gaze when he faced Mylo, ‘You wanna be treated like adults, right?’

He threw the bag at Claggor, who had to lean on the steps to keep from falling, and you tried to get to your feet to help him, wincing as you rested your foot irremediably on the ground. It was hard to figure out the specific mood of Vander at that moment, the tonality of his words contrasting with the way he treated you.

‘Then you should know better than to come back from a job empty-handed,’ Vander said, resting his hand on the handrail to start walking up. You stepped aside, stepping down to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Mylo, and avoided looking at him as he spoke the final words, ‘I'm going to have a little word with your informant.’

You exchanged one last glance with Claggor, mouthing a quiet ‘Good luck’ before he nodded in defeat, following in Vander's footsteps, disappearing up the stairs Powder had gone a few minutes before. You leaned your back against the closed door that led to the bar, realising that the plan you had in mind had fallen like cards blown by the wind, and considered simply heading off to bed to rest.

‘You coming?’ muttered Mylo, bumping his shoulder against yours.

‘Huh?’ you looked at him, momentarily unsure what he was referring to, until he nodded his head towards the door.

‘Let me help you,’ he asked, holding out his hand in front of you, ‘don't be stubborn.’

You folded your arms, snorting, and played hard to get.

‘You know Vi would kill me if she found out I let you walk down those stairs by yourself again,’ he added, one hand over his chest dramatically, as if suffering the wrath of your girlfriend was probably the worst possible fate —and you didn't doubt it.

You rolled your eyes playfully and accepted his hand, slipping your arm over his shoulders and letting him wrap his around your waist, making it easier for you to limp. You walked slowly down the stairs, focused on not falling, and you were almost relieved about the absence of that dull ache in your ankle. You had to start taking better care of yourself.

Vi's figure greeted you just as you had left her, slumped in her armchair, one leg up on the armrest and her head resting on one hand. You pouted at the sight of her, worn out and for a moment looking older than she actually was, but the expression on her face morphed into just a smile, sitting up slightly at the sight of you. Mylo guided you in front of her, one hand still on your waist in case you wanted to sit elsewhere, and you thanked him, leaning on the armrest still free of the armchair.

You heard Mylo pick up a ball and plop down on the couch you'd been sitting on with Powder, but all your attention went to Vi, her greyish gaze, calm, soft, and the way her hands slid down your hip, yours tangling in her hair.

‘Hey, pretty girl,’ you murmured, your lips drawing a soft curve over your mouth, ‘everything okay?’

She smiled in response, dropping her head against the back of the chair and letting out a long sigh. With her eyes narrowed, and her hands clasped around you, the ends of her smile spread a little wider, and suddenly you were pulled into her lap. You muffled a gasp of surprise, spilling laughter onto her skin, and settled into her arms.

‘Now? Hell yeah,’ she replied, his lips brushing your temple.

‘How are you feeling?’ you said, your voice barely a whisper, snuggling against her.

‘Exhausted,’ she admitted, and you began to trace shapes on her arm with your fingertips, ‘I really missed you today.’

You pouted at her words, turning your head away a little so you could look into her eyes, ‘I really missed you too,’ you replied. ‘My studio felt too quiet.’

‘Did you make any progress?’ she asked, shifting her body so that she could stand as close to you as possible, still looking you in the eye.

‘Yes!’ you exclaimed, sitting up slightly so you could explain. ‘I've fixed the wing mechanism! It works perfectly now, and it doesn't make that awful noise. I even tested it, and it's able to stay in the air, so I'll be able to create the first sample in no time.’

‘That's amazing, cupcake,’ she commented, smiling proudly. Whenever you were asked about an invention you were working on, you started babbling information, and Vi was one of the few who actually paid attention to what you were saying. ‘Next up is designing the body, right?’

You nodded, remembering that the reason you'd gone up to The Last Drop in the first place had been that you'd promised yourself to ask Vi if she wanted to be involved in the design. You'd had to leave the mechanical crow halfway through, waiting for her response.

‘Wanna help me?’ you said, turning to her and tucking a pink lock of hair behind her ear. You let your palm linger on her cheek for a moment, melting as Vi pressed her face against your skin, closing her eyes, and added, ‘The idea was yours.’

‘The idea was Ekko's,’ she whispered, correcting you, turning her face so she could press a kiss to your palm, and then she looked up at you, the grey of her gaze warm against yours, ‘but I'll be happy to help.’

You lowered yourself over her, swallowing her breath, and joined your lips in a tender kiss. Vi wasn't a big fan of grand displays of affection in public, except for the occasional protective gesture that always worked if she felt a little jealous of the way you were being looked at in the street, and kissing was usually reserved for when you were completely alone. So you were surprised when she sighed against your mouth and bit your lower lip, slipping her tongue in as soon as you let her. The taste of her distracted you, and you slid your hands up her shoulders, feeling her hands anchor around your waist, drawing you into her body.

But then you brushed your thumb over her cheekbone, as you always did, and felt her wince in pain. You pulled away, fearful, and remembered the cut you had seen earlier. Much to your reluctance, you decided to pause the kiss, leaving one last peck on her lips that she chased, and you smiled at her, changing the subject.

‘And the studio topside?’ you wanted to know, picking up the conversation where you had left off. ‘Was it as cool as Ekko predicted?’

‘Oh, it was otherworldly!’ she exhaled, breathy, as if trying to focus on what you had said, remembering her failed incursion. ‘Truth is you would've loved it, with all those tools and maths equations, and the weird, complex artefacts.’

‘Maybe if I had gone, things would have had a different outcome,’ you sighed, resting your forehead on hers, closing your eyes.

‘Maybe,’ she conceded, drawing comforting circles on your hip bones, 'but you had to rest.’

‘I know,’ you acknowledged, trying not to let the guilt seep into your voice. Then you pulled away slightly, your hands still resting on her shoulders, ‘now you have to rest.’

‘Do I?’ she asked, amusement in her eyes, smiling.

‘Of course you do!’ you said, analysing the wounds on his face. ‘And wash up too. You still have blood in your face.’

‘Aren't you going to ask how the fight went?’ she inquired, humming, bringing her hands up to your lips to undo the pout with soft fingertips.

You raised your eyebrows at her words, as if the answer was obvious, ‘Oh, you won.’

‘Yeah, I did,’ she replied, chuckling under her breath.

You slid your gaze across her face, taking in each small wound, the smeared blood from the cut on her brow, the gradual colour of the bruises on her cheeks, and then slid it around the room, looking for something to treat her wounds with.

And then you saw the open bottle of alcohol on the table, a solitary drop of liquid sliding on the glass, and you knew that Vander had been the one to smear the blood on Vi's brow. It had been a friendly conversation, then. You smiled at the thought.

‘Let me clean you those wounds, yeah?’ you whispered, caressing your girlfriend's jaw before getting up to reach for the bottle.

‘As you wish,’ she replied, waiting for you to sit back on her lap, her fingers tingling to touch your skin again.

But you stood in front of the armchair, pulling a roll of bandages from the small pocket on your belt, always ready to be able to change the ones Vi wore from her knuckles to the forearm of her right hand. You took your time cutting a generous piece, pouring alcohol on the cloth and tapping Vi's leg on the armrest to get her to move it.

She huffed, raising her hands in a gesture of defeat, and sat with her legs together, leaving you the perfect gap for your knees to rest on the sides of her hips. Once back in her lap, you cupped her face with one hand, palm holding part of her jaw so she couldn't move it, and blew on the cut on her cheek before pulling the wet bandage over it.

You saw a drop slide off her skin before the alcohol touched the open wound, and her brow furrow as you slid the cloth across her cheekbone, sucking in a sharp intake. You looked at her, knowing it was going to sting anyway, but she kept her eyes closed, concentrating on not moving. You wiped it off as quickly as you could, moving on to the half smeared cut on her eyebrow, and Vi held still, her hands tense on your waist, until you discarded the bandage, leaving it on the table behind your back.

Then you took her face in your hands, whispering that it was done, and laid six quick kisses on her bruised cheeks, all soft caresses of your lips on her skin. She smiled at the attention, running her hands up your back to slip under your shirt, but you stopped her, aware that she had forgotten Mylo's presence in the room.

You turned to him, seeing that he had been turned towards the back of his couch, trying to give you as much privacy as possible, and questioned him.

‘Hey, Mylo, you got any cuts you want me to clean up?’

He stirred, rolling over until he was sprawled on his back, and picked up the ball he'd left between the couch cushions, his gaze unfocused.

‘You know, Powder's a problem,’ he said, as if he hadn't heard a word, running his free hand over his face to snap out of his trance.

‘Oh my God, you've been overthinking all this time about that?’ you exhaled, disbelief painting your voice.

Vi sighed, resting her forehead on your shoulder, exhausted, ‘Mylo, I'm really not...’

‘Do you remember what was in the bag?’ he interrupted, throwing the ball against the wall in front of him and catching it on the fly.

You rolled your eyes, tired of his obsessive attitude.

‘Jeez, I'm sure it wasn't as...’ but he interrupted you too.

‘The biggest payout we've ever seen,’ he continued, giving vent to his complaints, not understanding why you didn't give it the same importance. ‘And she just lost it.’

‘She made a mistake.’ Vi leaned back in the armchair, resting her head on her hand.

‘Name one time she hasn't.’

‘Myls, she's still young,’ you tried to interject, defending Powder while avoiding creating an argument, as usual.

‘Don't bullshit me,’ he said, still determined to blame her for all his problems. ‘Vi was twice the person half her age.’

‘Vi had to grow up way too soon and fight for Powder to have a decent childhood without parents,’ you countered, starting to stand up, the knee of your bad foot still propped up on the couch so as not to overload it, but giving Mylo a venomous look. ‘Do not bullshit me.’

Vi put a hand on your hip, her hand warm against your skin, and helped you sit on the armrest, then propping her elbows on her knees so that she was face to face with her adopted little brother.

‘You know what, Mylo? You're right,’ she said slowly, sensing the way you tensed behind her back. She wasn't going to agree with him, was she? ‘There's a bunch of things Powder can't do.’

‘You don't have to tell me twice,’ he said, a hint of superiority spilling out of his mouth.

‘Like complaining about everything,’ Vi continued, sitting up, and you allowed yourself to relax, knowing she was going to teach him a lesson.

‘What?’ Mylo frowned, the ball tapping rhythmically on the wall in front of him.

‘And brag non stop.’

‘Okay, okay, I see where this is going...’ he replied, sitting up in his corner of the couch as Vi towered over him, catching the ball in mid-flight. You crossed your arms over your chest, remaining silent.

‘Pick fights with the group when we need to focus.’

Mylo gave a nervous chuckle, ‘Vi, I...’

‘And tell strangers on the street that we got a nice haul,’ she finished, her back to you. You couldn't see her face, but you could see his regretful gesture.

‘Oh my god, you did what?’ you muttered, surprised. If Powder lost the stuff then it was because she had to defend herself from a fight that Mylo had probably started. And Powder wasn't much of a fighter.

‘I, I didn't mean to,’ he defended himself.

‘Powder's my problem, okay?’ announced Vi, to which you nodded. They had both been through too much. Even if they lived under the same roof as Mylo, Claggor, and even you, their relationship was always going to tie them together in a much deeper way. ‘Your problem is never knowing when to shut up,’ you watched as she moved even closer to him, face to face, and lowered her voice so he could hear her clearly, ’but I'm gonna help you with that. Ready? You see this look on my face?’ she pointed to her face, and you saw Mylo swallow, nodding. ‘This will always mean it's time to shut up.’

‘But...’ he tried to say, to which Vi pointed to her face again, ‘I...’ she did it again and he groaned.

You couldn't help but let out a giggle, covering your mouth with your hand as Mylo rolled his eyes, giving up, and dropped his head against the couch. Without a word he put his hand to his lips, running his fingers over them as if he were zipping it, and stood up quickly, hurrying up the path to the stairs. As soon as he was gone, Vi turned to you.

‘Where were we?’ she asked, approaching you with a smile tugging at her lips.

You slid down the armrest until you were sitting on the cushion, and opened your arms to receive her, beaming. She knelt in front of you, wrapping her arms around your waist, and shuddered as you slipped your fingers into her hair. She closed her eyes, sighing, and left six quick kisses on the sliver of skin that peeked between your shirt and the waistband of your trousers, over your hip bone.

You giggled, wiggling your hips, and asked her, ‘Why was that?’

‘I don't know,’ she said, resting her chin on your belly, looking up at you with sparkling eyes, 'you always give me six kisses on the cheek.’

‘You always hurt your cheekbone, which is different,’ you corrected, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear, ’I just give you kisses to make it heal faster.’

‘And why six?’

You looked away, embarrassed, and cleared your throat before confessing.

‘A while ago Sevika told me,’ you began, remembering when the criminal had discovered your obvious crush on your best friend, ’that there is an ancient type of number, Roman numerals, which are written with letters. And the ones in the number six are a v and an i.’

‘Vi,' she whispered, surprised, ‘my name.’

‘I don't know if it's true or if she was lying to me,’ you acknowledged, smiling between your flushed cheeks, ’but it's been my favourite number ever since.’

You watched her close her eyes, sighing a disbelieving laugh against your skin, and murmured a quiet "Oh, I love you", her lips still moving as she lifted her head so she could look at you again. She sat up a little, seeking her mouth with yours, and you bent low enough to kiss her again, both of you alone this time.

You slid your hand through the portion of her hair that was partially shaved, an impulsive decision she had made a few years ago, and drew her to you, knowing which parts of her face you shouldn't touch to avoid hurting her further. She dug her fingers into your flesh, opening her lips over yours, and you stifled a whimper when you had her in your mouth again.

When she slid her tongue over your neck, aiming to drown in your skin, and you managed to take a breath of air, you remembered that Vander could be back at any moment. And reluctantly, you had to make the decision to stop.

‘Hey, pretty girl,’ you inhaled, closing your eyes as you felt her open-mouthed kiss against the crook of your shoulder, ‘someone could walk in at any moment.’

She didn't stop, lost in you, and you had to make a superhuman effort not to just blow it all off and ask her to keep going.

‘Vi, baby,’ you tried again, ’c'mon.’

‘Fuck,’ she murmured under her breath, resting her forehead on your chest. ‘One day..., one day I'm going to have you all to myself. I swear.’

‘We'll decide on what day that will happen,’ you promised her, leaving another kiss on her lips, ‘I need it to come soon.’

She kissed you back, forgetting what you had just said, and you had to resort to another way of convincing her.

‘Besides, Powder would really appreciate it if you went to see her,’ you murmured against her mouth, ‘I'm sure she needs her big sis right now.’

Vi feigned a pout, ‘And you don't need your big girlfriend with you?’

‘I think I can survive without you for a moment,’ you replied, laughing as she put her hand over her heart, making it look like she was too hurt by your words. You quickly corrected yourself, ‘but just for a moment. I need you right back, huh?’

Her lips curved into a smile, the soft freckles on her cheeks stretching with happiness, and she ran her mouth up your neck, trailing kisses over your skin until she reached your lips. Exactly six.

‘I'll be right back, then,’ she said, rising to her feet.

‘I'll be waiting,’ you replied, your hand entwined with her.

She began to walk slowly backwards, stretching your arms until your fingers inevitably parted, and you curled up on the couch as you watched her disappear before you.

You leaned your head back against the backrest, listening to your girlfriend's footsteps climb the stairs to the upper floor, where the bedrooms were. Powder had probably done enough rummaging through the old plumbing outside, always on the lookout for new gadgets for her little inventions, and you reminded yourself to check the last ones she'd made to see if they worked. Ever since you had taught her everything you had learned among the streets of the Lanes, her passion had been to imitate the complex mechanisms she saw in your workshop —though no doubt with a more atomic outcome.

You adored that little girl.

Thinking of her, her wonderful big sister and what the future would bring, you spent some time lying on Vi's couch, resting your ankle, until you moved and your pocket watch dug into your ribs. When you pulled it out you saw it was so late that there was no point in waiting to see if the others would come back. 

You walked up the stairs with a pipe-turned-cane that Vander had left around in the hope that pride wouldn't prevent you from using it, and took refuge in Vi's unmade bed.

It was later in the night, when you heard Powder hushing Vi to enter the room in complete silence, that you felt your girlfriend's arms slip around you in an embrace, pressing herself close to you to sleep beside you.

‘We're going to be fine, right?’ you asked, half asleep, your voice mushy and your eyes still closed.

‘Of course, cupcake,’ she whispered back, her lips moving against the skin of your shoulder. ‘I promise.’

ㅤㅤ© dilemmars ★ do not copy, translate, repost or share this work as yours on other platforms ! consider leaving a comment or reblogging.

[everythingisromant1c]

p2: three reasons why you can't stand co-star!james potter

co-star!james potter x actress!reader

summary: you were finding the first days of shooting your new TV show to be absolutely amazing, aside from the fact that you absolutely could not stand your co-star James Potter. unfortunately for you, you spent enough time around him to narrow down his most irritating qualities to only three:

a/n: hey so this took waayyy longer than i would've hoped to release, but i promise this series is not going anywhere, so tysm for all the loveee and all ur guys' patience <33

also pls pls pls feel free to send in prompt requests for this series i am so all ears

full series: Trouble in Hollywood - masterlist

1. He was insufferably good at his job

You wished you could say working with James Potter was such a challenge because he was simply bad at his job. But the thing was: he wasn't. It turned out he was really the impeccably good actor that your director Minerva seemed to swear he was, as if the talent truly was seeping through his veins. Somehow, that only made working with him more frustrating to you.

"Aaron, you've got to believe me."

James had come to you during the middle of hair and makeup and asked you to rehearse lines with him even before official rehearsals for the day's shooting began, saying it would make him feel more prepared. And, as much as you hated it, you felt the same. Your only regret was thinking you'd be able to stand him and his arrogance before seven in the morning.

"Why should I, Cassidy?"

The brunette responded to you fully in character, leaning back against a nearby vanity with his long legs crossed in front of him as you sat in your cushioned chair. He apparently got out of hair and makeup in under a matter of minutes, looking effortlessly put together with his curls hanging perfectly over his forehead—you didn't have the same luck. Your lovely makeup artist Mary seemed to be unbothered by the interruptions, continuing on with your makeup as you rehearsed your lines, though you caught her amused smile every once in a while from her reflection in the mirror.

"Because..." you began, trying to stay in character as your brain scrambled for your next line.

"You're supposed to say," cut in James, "'-because we can only trust each other right now.'"

"Please stop telling me my lines, James." You repeated the irritated request you'd uttered all morning to him as you put a tired hand to the bridge of your nose, one that Mary moved away hurriedly.

"Watch your makeup," she pleaded with a powder-filled brush to your nose , and you winced apologetically.

"Did you just want me to stand here and wait for you to remember them?" James's voice poked at you irritatingly as you stared up at him from your seat.

"Yes, that's exactly what I want." You fought from rolling your eyes. "You could at least give me a second. I didn't even ask for my line."

He raised his brows with an acquiescent sigh. "Whatever the lady wants."

Ignoring him, a skill you were growing like a muscle, you cleared your throat in focus, trying not to move too much as Mary blended some product on your neck. "Because we can only trust each other right now."

James quickly jumped back into character, right on time. "That didn't mean anything to you the other night."

"I already told you I'm sorry for that. When I heard all the rumors, I ..." you cursed at yourself as your mind drew another painful, embarrassing blank.

"-I didn't know what to think." James looked anything but guilty as his voice met your ears once again, finishing your line for you without fail.

"James!" You glared at him, doing your best to stay out in your chair and not storm out of the trailer he'd so brazenly infiltrated. You shook your head to yourself through your reflection in the brightly lit mirrors . "You're impossible."

James shrugged innocently. "I don't get why you're mad at me for trying to help."

"I'm not."

He scoffed, putting a dramatic hand to his chest. "So is this what you look like when you're happy with me?" The corner of his aggravating lips lifted along with his shoulder in a small shrug, before turning away again. "Isn't very much like how I've pictured it."

You didn't miss the way Mary let out a small breath of laughter from her nose as she switched over to doting on your hair. You gritted your teeth.

"I mean, I'm not mad at you for helping. I'm mad at you because you're annoying."

He crossed his arms defensively, his lips still quirked up, and you fought against the urge within you that had your eyes following the movement of his biceps. "I'm annoying?"

The feigned disbelief in his voice snapped your back to your right mind.

"Yes," you answered plainly. "You and your posh accent."

Maybe you'd stopped making sense, but it was too early for you to care. James was watching your meltdown with what you could only identify as merriment, his unfortunately unignorable presence taking up too much space in the cramped makeup trailer.

Thankfully choosing to ignore the part about his accent, he put up his hands innocently. "Last time I checked, I wasn't the one who keeps forgetting their lines."

"We just got the updated script for this episode last night." You shifted in your chair to face him, and you heard Mary wince from behind you, probably getting fed up with how much you were moving around, though you were too annoyed to stop yourself. "How the hell are you already off-book?"

James shrugged smugly, shoving his hands in his pockets as he leaned forward. You squinted your eyes at him. "An actor never reveals his secrets, love."

You twisted your mouth in disgust at his words—because you definitely felt something as he said them, whether it was disgust or not you didn't want to think about—and probably only made him more satisfied. "Mary," you groaned, looking at her through the mirror in front of you. "I think I'm going to be sick."

She shook her head and gave your reflection a sharp look back. "Not in that freshly ironed shirt you're not."

You sighed, settling back into your chair and sparing another glance at the man to your right. He tipped his head at you, almost tauntingly, and you felt your jaw tighten. It was going to be a long day.

2. Everyone else seemed to love him

You'd been going about your Thursday innocently, filming scenes when called upon—finally having memorized all your lines properly—and somehow getting through the morning without any irritating interactions with your least favorite person on set at the moment. That good feeling, of course, could only last so long.

"What's this?"

Minerva, your director, had been walking around set with you until you both stopped at the sight of a crowd forming outside one of the sets. You followed her, making your way through the crowd of your fellow actors and crew members until you were met with a nauseating sight: James Potter.

At the sight of your director, his already proud smile grew to a beaming one, almost blinding, as he greeted her. "We've all been really busy with this week's filming schedule, Minnie, and you mentioned what a hassle it's been ordering enough food for everyone every day with our budget, so I pulled some strings and got my family's chef to cater our lunch."

Your jaw slacked as he nodded his head to his left, where a number of tables were set up with what looked like pizza ingredients, a moustached-man in a chef hat standing behind the scene proudly. You couldn't believe your eyes. Apparently, neither could the woman next to you.

"Oh my- James this is ... amazing!" Minerva—or Minnie, as James somehow had grown accustomed to calling her—turned to your co-star, expression as bright and beaming as James's crowd-pleasing smile was. "But you shouldn't have gone to all this trouble-"

"It was no trouble at all. Francis was more than happy to help."

He waved a hand at the chef, who you assumed was the 'Francis' in question, who nodded back at him happily with a pizza cutter in his hand. It was like something out of a movie, the way everyone clapped for James who stood at the front of the crowd like the beloved man he was. You felt sick to your stomach.

"What's wrong? Do you not like the pizza?"

You'd taken your lunch shamefully, making sure to hide your amazement at the endless selection of pizza toppings that James had arranged at the build-your-own-pizza station, and were sitting with Remus, who you'd met at auditions for the show and luckily got casted in a role other than one that'd gone to James, and Sirius, another one of your co-stars who you'd quickly become friends with since you spent practically all your time on set nowadays.

You looked up at Remus briefly before returning your gaze to the pizza in front of you, the perfect slice underneath the sun seeming to taunt you. "No," you grumbled. "The pizza's amazing."

Sirius chuckled. "You'd think you'd be happy about that."

"I would, aside from the fact that it was Potter who brought it in."

The black-haired man tipped his head at you curiously. "What's your problem with James again?"

You shook your head forebodingly. "Don't tell me he's brainwashed you both with his hundred-dollar pizza too."

"I doubt the pizza's that much money." Remus bit into the slice in his hand, talking through the bite. "But it is pretty delicious."

"It is," Sirius nodded. "It was pretty nice of him to cover lunch for the day. If anything, you'd think you'd like him more for this."

You groaned. "He brought in his family's private chef, for God's sake. It's not like he rescued a cat from a tree or something."

Sirius and Remus shared a look as you spoke. You knew you sounded ridiculous, but you currently lacked enough dignity to care as yet another slice of pizza sat on your plate, ready to be eaten.

"James is actually a really nice lad," reasoned Sirius. "Take it from us. We kind of grew up with him."

That fact had yet to escape you as soon as you'd met the two of them. According to the stories they'd relayed to you, Remus's mum had been an on-set tutor to James growing up when he was acting in some movie, while Sirius's parents had been producers for some of James's parents' films. Safe to say, the three of them certainly left you feeling inexperienced in the world of acting.

"James should be the least of your worries," urged Remus. "He's harmless."

"If he's so harmless, then why has he gone out of his way to be a pain in my ass since I met him?"

Sirius snorted. "We said he's harmless, not that he's not an idiot sometimes."

"But," Remus added, "whatever James has done, just know that it always comes from a good place. The man doesn't have a mean bone in his body."

You sighed inwardly. The James Potter you knew seemed to be very different from the one that everyone else seemed to be familiar with, and it was driving you crazy.

3. He was an obnoxious flirt

When you said 'flirt', you not only meant that he flirted with you—unfortunately—but that he seemed to flirt with anyone in sight, whether he realized it or not. In fact, you'd been forced to watch as he smooth-talked one of the hairstylists on set for the past ten minutes.

You couldn't hear everything they were saying, thank god, but you were sure she was probably more charmed by the fact that his last name was Potter than anything he could remotely come up with to win her over. You'd had enough conversations with him to know that the movie-star smiles he offered were enough to charm people before they realized just how insufferable he was.

After what felt like hours, he said something to the woman in parting and left her looking flushed and smiley as he strolled away. You sighed, happy to finally be rid of distractions, and looked back down at the script on your lap that you were trying to memorize but stopped almost immediately as you felt an unwelcome presence lingering from in front of you. You looked up and fought a groan.

James tipped his head at you innocently. "You wanted me?"

You tensed at his phrasing and did your best to go back to ignoring him as you focused back on your script. "I did not."

Not taking the hint, as usual, he stayed put, shoving his hands in his well-tailored pockets. "Well, you've been staring at me for the past ten minutes, so I just assumed you had something to say."

"Well, you assumed wrong." You gave him a tight-lipped smile from where you sat. "And I wasn't staring. I just miraculously found it hard to concentrate on memorizing lines when you were harassing that hairstylist right next to me."

He squinted at you quizzically before shaking his head, finding your banter more amusing than you probably were. "Admit it. You're obsessed with me."

You scoffed, blinking rapidly to truly portray your disbelief. "You wish. Reality is, Potter—I think I hate you."

James peered at you with a glint in his eye like he'd never heard anything more amusing, leaning back against the wall next to you. "You think?"

You shrugged tightly. "The jury hasn't come to a decision just yet." You thought back to the unfortunately delicious pizza he'd provided, and all the things that Remus and Sirius had said to you that stood in stark contrast to practically every other experience you'd had with him.

James grinned, finding teasing you the most entertaining part of his day, even on set for a TV show. "So I still have a chance?"

His eyes glistened and you reeled. "A chance to what? Did you not hear the 'hate' part?"

"Hate is a strong word, don't you think?"

You shook your head. "Strong, but appropriate."

"Ouch." He touched his hand to his chest in that dramatic way he always did, something you blamed on his actor roots. "Your words hurt, you know." You rolled your eyes, truly trying then to get back to memorizing your lines so James would have nothing over you during filming the next day, but he didn't seem to care. "Look, I get it. You said you hate me. But really, I don't think you do."

You sighed, setting your script aside as you looked up at him with finality. "And why is that, Potter?"

"Because," James began, and you didn't like the tease in his tone as he looked down at you. "A little birdie told me you had some say in whether or not they cast me in South Bay. And that you actually encouraged it."

Your lips parted, those words being the last ones you expected him to say after weeks had gone by since the chemistry read. You didn't know who'd ratted you out, but whoever did would be getting a stern talking to. Or a partially stern one, since they were more than likely your boss.

You shrugged weakly at him. "That ... that doesn't mean anything."

James's thick brow lifted effortlessly. "So you're not denying it?"

At his challenging look, you relented with a drop of your shoulders. "I'm not. It's true; I told Minerva I think they should choose you to play Aaron becuase you are good at your job, James. As much as it annoys me. I mean, you're clearly a great actor, you get all your lines memorized overnight, not to mention the entire crew is in love with you for some reason-"

"Oh, I see."

You paused, looking at the way James's slight grin turned into a shit-eating one. "What?"

He tipped his head at you tauntingly. "You're jealous."

You let out a laugh harsher than you meant it to be. "Please. There's nothing about you I could possibly waste my energy being jealous over."

The brunette tutted, and you hated the feeling it sent through you. "For such a great actress, you're not a very good liar."

You felt your breathing shallow for a moment, not knowing what to do with the compliment that flowed so easily from his lips like he hadn't given it a second thought. You pushed the thought aside, focusing on the insult part of his statement instead, and rolled your eyes.

"Look," James continued at your expression. "Jealous or not, we're going to have to work together on this show for God knows how many more months. Years even, if it gets renewed for a second season." The thought both filled you with excitement and dread as it came from James's lips. He looked down at you with an honest curiosity. "How much longer can you go on pretending to hate me?"

You noted that what he was saying was true, letting the words sit in your chest for a moment, but you also noted that you had more fun being petty. You tilted your chin up at him. "Funny that you think I'm pretending."

James put a hand on the table you were sitting at, leaning forward slightly and making you freeze up. "Funny that you're still not a good liar, love."

Your throat felt tight with something you wanted to again dismiss as disgust at both his proximity and the delicate word that fell from his lips. You let an unpleasant pinch form between your brows. "I thought I told you not to call me that."

James felt something warm, almost giddy, form in his chest, and it didn't matter that you looked like you were considering slapping him right then. He let the corner of his lips quirk up. "You're adorable when you're mad."

"Don't call me that either." You huffed, picking up your still un-memorized script and standing. "I'm going to my trailer."

James quirked a brow, following you with only his eyes. "Is that an invitation?"

You rolled your eyes, walking away and calling over your shoulder. "Absolutely not."

taglist:

@ilovejamespottersomuch @empath-bunny @santaasi @veysxrge @bitterspoons @ladyhestiaa @rorybear14

[lovemomhatepolice]

jj maybank nswf alphabet (part 1) (minors DNI!)

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BEFORE YOU START READING: THERE IS A SPOILER OF SEASON 4 AT THE BOTTOM, SO IF YOU WANT TO AVOID IT, DON'T READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTE BELOW

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) Before JJ got involved with you, he was hardly the type to pay attention to aftercare. All the girls that came before were either only for one night or he didn't care enough about them to be concerned about what would come after their intercourse. It was the same for their part, so sex alone was enough. However, when he met you and your first intercourse occurred, JJ felt he had to do something more. Since then, he talks to you for a long time afterwards, you go to take a bath together to embrace each other after intercourse, and he is even more clingy than always

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) Oh, JJ is a big fan of his body. He is well aware that he is damn handsome and has a well-sculpted body, so he often shows it off. And in you? JJ appreciates everything, really. He loves your hands, because he can grab them when he wants and intertwine his fingers with yours. He loves your lips, which he could kiss over and over again. He loves your thighs, which he keeps lying on and squeezing them. But you can't take away from the fact that he's pussy drunk. What the heck, but JJ loves your pussy the most and whenever he gets the chance, he's in it or by it. That's it

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) Creampie!!! Has anyone heard this? CREAMPIE! JJ loves, adores, well normally he would give up everything just for the sight of you with your combined juices flowing out of your pussy

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) JJ doesn't have too many dirty secrets, maybe some kind of triangle? Or I don't know, an orgy? Just kidding. JJ is able to give up everything just for that, until you finally dominate him to the max like that. Mostly he is the one who dominates, but every night he dreams about it until you finally do it

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) Let's not lie to ourselves, JJ is a bit of an Outer Banks man whore, so his experience is quite high. The way he works his tongue, his fingers, let alone his cock, oh god. God of sex, there's no denying it

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) Cowgirl. JJ loves your breasts and the fact that he has them in full glory in front of him in this position is downright addictive to him. He can touch them, suck them, kiss them. Likewise, he has great access to your face, which he loves to look at and see your face contorted in the pleasure you both give each other. Plus, I've already mentioned how much he dreams of you dominating him. And this position falls a bit under that, especially when he doesn't help you from below and you can lead you to orgasm alone

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) This is JJ, everyone knows his being clumsy in life. It's the same in bed. Many things amuse him and his mouth doesn't close during your intercourse. He was even amused by the way the spring in the couch at John B's house flew out when he just happened to be taking you from behind. Well, John B was not amused by that….

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) JJ has a lot of hair on his head and legs, so I think he's not completely shorn there either. But so that it's not sloppy and kept in order. As for you, I think he would also prefer it not to be thick there. Although too often it lands between your legs to worry about silly hair. As long as it's hygienic and the rest he doesn't care. And I even think that some patterning would excite him

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) Yes, as I mentioned - since he is with you, he has seen that being romantic in life is not bad at all. And although he sometimes fails (he almost burned down the Chateau when he tried to make a romantic evening with candles), he still tries. He likes to chic you romantic baths, admittedly in the Jacuzzi, but you don't complain. Bubbles, cheap wine and JJ, who is all over you, is all you need.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) Maybank is still an excitable teenager and often thinks with his dick, so he needs to shake off the feeling that still holds him down. Most of the time then he finds himself immediately around you so you can help him, but when you're really not there and you can't give him yourself, well, he's left to masturbate to your pictures, which he has in a special folder. Or the videos you amateurishly recorded one day for fun

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) I don't know if you can call it kink, but JJ often likes to have sex with you in public. That is, it's not strange for him to suddenly have sex in the sea or do you good on the boat when you were originally supposed to go “fishing”

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) Anywhere, really. JJ has the “I can here and now” method, really, it's not even a joke anymore. If only you are ready, he is able to do anything just to get inside you

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) Just you. JJ sees you and already has a problem in his pants. Well, what can I say? He's totally pussy whipped and all it takes is one nod from you and he's already ready for action. Your presence in the same room already has him even begging so he can have sex with you or at least touch you a little bit

A/N: part two will be here soon! (If anyone wants me to tag them - let me know in the comments) I will be terribly pleased if you reblogged it :) Of course, if you liked it! I want to create a larger Outer Banks community here, because for now I have reached a small number of this fandom

SPOILER: as you already know, season 4 left us in despair and grief after JJ's death. however, I am not going to stop writing about him. love you JJ, rest in peace sunshine :(

please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)

[lavender-butterfly-cookie]

I would love to see a second part of Forgotten Friends

One where the beast eventually realized that they blew stuff out of proportion and, because of that, their friend was basically forced to betray them, but they have no one to blame but themselves

And by the time they realized and are out of their prison

Reader cookie can varely remember them, they do remember they used to be friends, but all their evil deed have replaces most happy memories and Reader has a hard time being able to trust or even be near them

Patience is a strong thing, but time is more

The SoulJam of Patience has follow their tittle, now it's Their turn to use it

I like your style dear butterfly.

Forsaken, Forgotten, Un-Forgiven

previous part

Where does one even begin to express how much patience you've lost? How does one even begin to accept your friends have become nothing more but shells of their former selves? How does one learn to forgive them for forcing you to betray them? As hard as it is to believe, it starts with an apology.

After sealing your friends away all those years ago, it took you immense amounts of patience before you could face the world again. It took you so much patience to adjust and make new friends. So much patience to finally feel free about revealing who you really are. Patience to accept that they were gone and they weren't coming back. It took a long time, but you endured it. And it was worth it.

But it wasn't.

You found yourself face to face with five shards of tinted glass, all representing a shard from what was broken long ago. You barely remembered any of them, but that doesn't mean you forgot them and their evil deeds completely

The blue shard, who had once been your source of knowledge and guidance, now full of cracks that mimicked the web of deceit it was entangled in. You remember how the threads of that web were used to puppet and control the lives of the innocent, forcing them to fight for his own twisted little show.

The white shard, who had one been the holder of the virtue known as volition, now flavorless and apathetic soul devoid of any meaning. You remember how easily she turned everything to flour with just a simple motion of her hand. And you knew she did it because she saw little to no value in living a life with the inevitable end known as death

The red shard, who was once the herald of change in itself, now a destructive and merciless monster who sees no point in creation when it's bout to wither away eventually. You remember how he had destroyed countless homes and lives, all because he was bored.

The pink shard, who was once the most loving and joyful person you had ever met, now a lazy sloth who didn't even bother doing anything anymore. You remember vividly how she wiped away so many cookies just because they woke her up from her nap.

Then there was the Purple shard, once a noble knight of solitude, now a dark knight of silence. You remember all to well how had mercilessly crumbled several cookies in a single strike. How he's never uttered a word since he became corrupted.

These shards of glass are none other than your fallen friends, freed from but under different circumstances. They weren't causing havoc, they weren't attacking- heck, they weren't even angry at you after you lead them into a trap. What baffled you more was how the ancients were present but stood to the side. It took some time before the realization hit you.

"They want to talk."

You heard a voice say. It sounded like you, but much more mature. You felt your heart drop. They wish to talk? Couldn't they have thought about that years- no, CENTURIES ago?! But you're not about to argue with the light of patience when you clearly have better things to focus on.

The first thing you noticed about your fallen friends is their demeanor. They're not angry... they actually look guilty and nervous. Next was their souljams... which they didn't have for some reason. The ancients probably have it, which is good. They can't cause much damage. Shadow milk cookie stepped forward and you were ready for anything....

"Y/N cookie..."

Anything at all.

"We're sorry..."

Except that. Your eyes widened and you froze solid, the words unable to register in your head. They were apologizing?... But- no that can't be right... this is a trick... It's a trick and you won't fall for it again... You look at the ancients. They aren't intervening or protesting against this false apology.

...

They can't seriously believe this, right? They're not falling for this, RIGHT?! You step back a bit and shake your head slightly. This was a trick. Why do they want to redeem themselves NOW? Had they not realized the gravity of what they did before sooner? This had to be some kind of lie. And you weren't gonna fall for it. You made that very clear to them before walking.

It was only later on where pure vanilla cookie explained that they were attempting a redemption arc to fix the bond between you. The ancients really did believe them... Why did they believe them?! They had been nothing but pure evil as far as you can remember. Their evil deeds outweighed whatever happy memories you had with them... almost as though you didn't have happy memories.

The beasts tried again and again to at least get you to cast a glance at them but it was fruitless. You walked away from the library when Shadow milk cookie tried talking to you. You completely ignored Eternal sugar cookie trying to enter your room and talk to you. You turned your back on Burning spice cookie when he attempted reaching out for you. You refused to acknowledge Mystic flour cookies attempt of interaction with you. And the silence between You and Silent salt cookie had grown into a deadly kind of quiet, as if none of you had even been together.

They just didn't get it, did they? They betrayed your trust once, what if they do it again? You had to be BEYOND patient with yourself in order to recover and yet they've returned? No, they shouldn't have. They had no idea how many sleepless nights you endured to finally accept they're absence. How much you had to learn to adjust and be patient with yourself to be able to move on. And all that hard work, all that patience, it was gonna crumble because of them.

No, you can't let that happen. You can't just forgive them just like that. Not after everything they've done, to innocent cookies, everything they've done to you. If they really wanted your forgiveness, they'd have to be as patient with you as you were with them when they weren't corrupted. They have to earn your forgiveness, and that was going to take a long time.

You were patient with them, now they must be patient with you. How long they'd have to be patient was unknown, and how long they'd actually remain patient was just as mysterious.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Can i ask for insecure reader x Donna?? Maybe before reader met Donna, the girls in the village teased her about her looks because they were jealous of her beauty. Reader can't believe that someone like Donna would like her. She notices that the reader cries every night and can't stand the sight of it so confronts reader.

Can it be a smut???

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

P.S: To the anon who made a question to me yesterday. I'm sorry, I deleted your question by mistake but I remember it so:

To the question "what does G!P mean?" Well, I know it's not well written, yk, maybe GP! (girl penis) sounds more familiar to you.

Idk why I always write it like this. I made a mistake once but I didn't fix it. I guess I like it that way, like my own style or smth. I hope I've solved you doubt, take care of yourself!!!

Beautiful?

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut, Minors DNI, fluff, angst, hurt and comfort, hurtful mockery

Word count: 8,162

Summary: You've started to think they were always right about your ugliness

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

“Hey, (Y/N),” you heard.

Behind you, putting a hand on your shoulder, was a young man you knew, one who always smiled when he saw you.

“H-Hi, Ivan,” you said with a shy smile, turning around. “Aren't you with your friends?”

“Well, I saw you pass by and I was wondering if…” the boy said, scratching the back of his neck. “Um… Have you tried Mrs. Grescu's apples?”

You smiled, shaking your head.

It had been a long time since someone approached you to talk and you weren't stupid, in that shy smile there was more than the innocent intention of spending time with you. Having some boy approach you was strange enough to notice that you weren't really interested.

“Not really,” you said with a friendly smile.

“Well, then you won't have any problem in…”

“Oh, Ivan, I was looking for you,” a girl who appeared from the shadows interrupted the boy, drawing your attention.

You had tried to stay away from her, from her and her friends, but, apparently, it hadn't been possible.

“Miriam?” he asked, frowning after the sudden approach of the young woman. “I was talking to…”

“Hey, aren't you bored? The party is over there,” she said, hanging on to the boy's arm, looking at you out of the corner of her eye.

“No, it's just that…” he stammered, being dragged by the girl while you stood, completely ignored in that remote corner.

“Hey, he was talking to me!” you protested, not because you actually liked that the boy seemed interested, you really didn't, but because you knew the way that girl acted.

“Surely the lack of light has confused him, hasn't it, handsome?” Miriam joked, blinking seductively, leaving the villager speechless and with a silly smile.

“Um... well, if you say so...” he murmured, looking at you for the last time before disappearing, leaving you, once again, alone.

You sighed and sat down on an old bench. That the meeting had been short shouldn't surprise you, they all were, thanks to them.

“Oh, wow, poor (Y/N),” a cocky voice startled you and your body began to shake.

Two girls appeared out of nowhere, pretending to pout. They weren't friends of yours, but they were acquaintances, unfortunately.

“Leave me alone,” you whispered, frowning and crossing your arms.

Trying to escape was already difficult enough, as they seemed to want to corner you.

“Are you enjoying your solitude?” one of them said with a sinister smile. “Well, I shouldn't be surprised that you like dark places, right, Alicia?”

“It's true, this place is made for you, (Y/N),” the other girl said, resting her arm on your shoulder mockingly. “A dark place, where no one can see you…”

“Why don't you just go away?” you asked, removing the hand and getting up from the bench. “Don't you have anything better to do?”

Alicia pushed on your shoulder, forcing you to sit back down among unpleasant laughs.

“Shhh, where do you think you're going?” she threatened, looking at her friend. “Do you think we like being here? No, (Y/N), we're doing altruistic work, right, Olga?”

“Yes, it's true,” her friend said, sitting next to you with a disgusted look. “Have you seen what time it is? There are still children on the streets and instead of having fun, we have to watch you.”

“That's good,” you whispered, starting to get nervous.

No, not again.

“If we let you go with the rest of the decent people, you could cause them a trauma,” Olga said. “With that face you could make even the lycans flee.”

You should have protested, been enraged by that insult, but you were used to it, too used to it.

“Well, Ivan isn't a lycan and he wanted to go for a walk with me,” you said with dark eyes, looking towards the snowy ground, trying, pathetically, to say something in your defense.

“Of course, because he can't see you well,” Alicia said, sighing and running a hand over your shoulders. “As soon as the light illuminated your shitty face, he would surely run away.”

“P-Please, leave me alone,” you stammered, with tears in your eyes, unable to escape from that horribly common situation.

“Please, please…” the girls mocked, pretending to pout. “Oh, are you going to cry?”

“She's going to cry,” Alicia mocked. “Spare us the suffering, (Y/N). I don't want to have nightmares.”

“Hey, come on Alicia, it's not okay to laugh at (Y/N), she has to look herself in the mirror every day,” the girl commented while you made an effort to keep the tears in your eyes.

“It's true...” she whispered, rolling her eyes. “Although I doubt she has mirrors in her house. What for?”

“Well, for her parents and...” the other girl commented, putting a hand on her lips. “Oh, sorry, you don't have parents, do you?”

You, wishing the ground would swallow you up, shook your head, starting to sob.

“Olga, don't be cruel,” Alicia said, getting up from the bench and gently hitting her friend. “What would you do if you had a daughter like her?”

“I would have probably wanted to die,” the girl replied cruelly. “What a shame...”

“Enough!” you shrieked, clenching your fists and abruptly. “Leave me alone!”

“Don't shout, stupid, your voice destroys my ears,” Alicia joked, covering her ears comically.

“Jeez... even her voice is horrible,” Olga protested while you began to tremble, letting the tears fall into the snow. “She's crying again, you're pathetic, (Y/N).”

“Pathetic and ugly,” the other added, nodding with her arms crossed. “Hey, do us a favor and go to your lair, monster.”

“Hey, look,” one of the girls said, hitting her friend's shoulder and pointing at something with her head.

The two looked at each other and gave you another mocking smile before moving away from you.

“Anyway… have fun, ugly,” they joked, walking away from you.

The silence was a relief, only broken by your sobs. Teasing had always been in your life. That trio of witches had always enjoyed torturing you, insulting you, and making you think that everything they said… was real. You could never understand what you had done to deserve those insults, to deserve the constant mockery that made your life a hell.

No matter how much you wanted to get away from them, even from the village itself. That was impossible. In that lost place, guarded by the Black Gods, there was no escape.

“Hello,” an unknown voice startled you, waking you up from that nightmare, from those tremors and tears.

You looked to one side, to the other… Nothing, you saw nothing. You thought that maybe you had gone crazy, that all the suffering was starting to take its toll on you, but that wasn’t the case. You looked down and couldn’t help but step back.

On the ground, illuminated by the dim light of a street lamp, was what at first seemed to be a girl, but in reality wasn’t.

Of course you were no stranger to the Lords or to Mother Miranda. Everyone in the village respected and feared them. You knew that figure, that sinister and almost dark smile: the Angie doll, inseparable companion of one of the four guardians of the village, of the youngest Lord: Donna Beneviento.

For a moment you thought about running away, but you froze. Of course, having a Lord so close, or well, part of one, wasn’t a good sign.

“What are you doing? Help me up,” the doll said, gesturing for you to sit her on the bench.

 Afraid of the consequences of not doing so, you grabbed the puppet with a hesitant gesture and followed her order.

“That's it, well done, villager.”

“M-M-Miss Angie,” you murmured, wiping away your tears and lowering your head in a gesture of respect. “What are you doing here?”

“My Donna and I don't like crowds,” the doll answered, watching you from very close. “Hey, silly, silly, are you crying? Do I scare you that much?”

“N-No... it's just that... n-never mind,” you said, scared, but with the feeling that this puppet had nothing to do with the three girls who made your life miserable. “I-I don't like people very much either.”

“I see that,” Angie said, swinging her legs comically on the bench. “Why? You’re beautiful and you should be surrounded by stupid boys.”

At that comment, your eyes widened. No one, ever, had told you that you were beautiful, much less, someone like her.

“Beautiful? Me?” you asked confused, pointing at yourself. “No, I'm not…” you sighed, believing that, just like the girls, that doll was laughing at you.

“If you say so…” the puppet sighed. “Hey, hey, hey, silly, do you want to play?”

“What? Play?” you asked, shaking your head.

“Yes, that way we kill time for the festival to end,” the puppet suggested. “Do you know how to play chain words?”

“I-I think so,” you stammered. “S-Sorry, Miss Angie… it's just that I've never been so close to… someone… someone like you.”

“Well, you'll get used to it,” Angie whispered, getting a little closer, still looking at you. “Hey, lonely girl, I think my Donna would like you…”

Unintentionally, by chance, that meeting preceded by a horribly bitter moment was the beginning of your new life. The lady in black appeared shortly after to take her doll, who seemed to have escaped.

If Angie hadn't existed... well, none of that would have happened. The doll's insistence to its owner to meet you was a bit exaggerated, but... to your own surprise, it worked. You didn't know what that veiled lady had seen in you, but you didn't reject Angie's proposal to get to know her better.

You couldn't deny that you were afraid, you were, and very much so. Lady Beneviento was described by the village as an extremely dangerous, sick and unhinged woman, but... to you she didn't seem that way. It was impossible to know what was under that black cloth and hypotheses were always part of the village's rumors.

Despite that, it didn't take long for you to find things in common with that woman. She didn't seem like a ruthless creature but... a normal, ordinary woman, or at least, on the surface. A lover of art and literature, cultured, sensitive, intelligent... Donna was the opposite of what the rumors said.

She was a woman wounded by her past, consumed by the loneliness of her dilapidated mansion, but somehow, your presence made it not seem like that. Her voice, a voice that no one had ever heard before, rang out only for you on one of the afternoons you spent with her, drinking tea, like two unknown souls dying to know each other.

Everything happened so fast that you couldn't control it. Your feelings, the sensations you had when you were with her became overwhelming in a very short time. She wasn't laughing at you, she was nice to you. The monster that the rumors spoke of was, to you, an angel in a world of demons.

Her beauty was special, undeniable, stained by a scar that covered part of her face. Again, you could feel privileged to admire what was hidden, but you didn't have much time to do so, as her lips suddenly landed on yours, showing that Donna felt the same as you.

Everything seemed perfect, incredible. The relationship you started with Donna was a good reason to start leaving your past behind. You believed that this tangle of kisses, whispers of love, caresses, could tear down what seemed like an eternity of suffering.

In part it was like that, smiling was no longer too hard a job for you, but, to be honest, you didn't forget as much as you thought.

Sometimes those dark shadows came back. It didn't matter if it was day or night, those words echoed in your ears, preventing you from forgetting your complexes, those words that, after being too many years in your head, seemed like an immutable truth.

It wasn't strange that you wondered what that incredible woman was doing with you, what she could have seen in a horrible, ugly girl like you. Looking in the mirror, you came up with dark reasons for it. Maybe her complexes made her settle for the first girl who didn't run away, or simply, she felt better with someone uglier than her.

Deep down you knew it was nonsense, that none of the arguments your brain made were true but… after so much suffering, you just couldn't help but think it.

Two years later, that relationship continued. Donna was perfect, simply perfect, and you had a hard time understanding why perfection had set its sights on you, but it did, and the reasons mattered less and less to you.

You couldn't stop sadness and the past from coming back to attack you, causing you to cry in front of the mirror for no reason, looking at the reflection of what must have been… a monster.

Of course, your past remained hidden in the depths of your soul. You didn't want her to know about your misfortunes. You were afraid that, if she did, she would recognize that the love she felt for you was nothing but spite.

No, you couldn't tell her anything, you didn't want to worry her or expose your insecurities, besides there was no reason to do so anymore. In those two wonderful years, you didn't return to the village. You were convinced that, with time, you could stop crying.

“Hi,” you said with a slightly fake smile, erasing the tears from your face as you entered the workshop.

The lady in black didn't turn to look at you, but she made a loving gesture with her hand for you to come closer. You did, leaning down to kiss her cheek, to get that shy laugh that drove you crazy out of her lips.

“Mm, ciao, tesoro...” she whispered, turning her head so your lips crashed against hers, stealing a tender kiss from you. “Are you coming to keep me company?”

“Yes,” you said amused, enjoying the contact of her skin with yours, letting her hands grab your body, sitting you on her lap. “What are you doing?”

“Making dolls,” she said, looking back at the work table as you settled on her.

“Yes, I see,” you said amused. “Can I?” you asked, reaching out your hand to pick up the porcelain doll she offered you, looking at it lovingly. “It's very cool.”

“Grazie, (Y/N), but it's just like the others,” Donna said as you ran your fingers along the seams of that little dress. “Well, almost… Look, I decided to add some ruffles.”

“I gave you that idea,” you said with a sincere smile, sighing at the sight of the creation that came, in part, from your imagination. “What is she?”

“She's a fisherman's daughter,” she said, moving as she lovingly caressed your hair. “Look, see the little fish I embroidered on it?”

“Yeah, wow, that’s fabulous work, Donna,” you said, nodding in admiration at your girlfriend’s underappreciated work.

The lady smiled, looking at you, proud of your compliments, but that smile suddenly faded, bringing a hand to your chin and slowly lifting it.

“(Y/N), your eyes…” she murmured confused, studying your gaze.

“W-What's wrong with them? A-Are they ugly? Don't you like them?” you asked nervous, looking away from her.

You were starting to think that time would never heal your insecurities.

“Mm? Di che cosa stai parlando?” Donna asked, shaking her head. “Your eyes are beautiful, tesoro but… they're red… What's wrong? Have you been crying?” she asked with a worried tone.

“Oh, no, no,” you said, shaking your head effusively, rubbing your eyes. “It's just that… I think, I think I have an allergy to… to dust.”

“Allergy?” Donna questioned, frowning. “Really? W-Well, maybe I should hire a maid and…”

A maid? A beautiful girl in uniform working for Donna? A girl surely much more beautiful than you? A girl that the lady in black would notice, realizing that you were hideous? No, thank you.

“No,” you said abruptly, making her blink in confusion. “No, Donna, it will pass.”

She smiled, nodding.

“You're right, besides, I wouldn't like to have another girl in the house, you could fall in love with her,” the lady in black commented, whispering in your ear. “That would kill me.”

“Don't talk nonsense,” you said, laughing at the tickling her lips were starting to do on your neck. “I could never fall in love with someone other than you.”

“I like that you say that. I like knowing that you're mine…” she purred playfully, but before you could perhaps get carried away by passion in the workshop, the phone interrupted, making you two sigh in a complicit manner.

“Hey, you two!” Angie shrieked, interrupting the kisses that were beginning to heat up. “Are you deaf or is your blood not reaching your head? The phone is ringing!”

“Ugh, Angie,” Donna protested, pushing away the doll, who was already beginning to tug impatiently at her dress. “Behave, please…”

“Pick up the damn phone!” Angie shrieked, creating, along with the sound of the phone, a chaos in the normally silent workshop. “Let that silly thing go and get up!”

Your smile faded when you heard the doll talk about you as a… thing… The memories came back to haunt you.

“Angie, taci,” the lady growled, not obeying her puppet. “Pick it up, will you?”

“Always me! Angie, do this, Angie pick up the phone,” the doll mocked, making the lady laugh.

“Do it,” Donna growled, still kissing you, calming your nerves with her hot lips.

“You damn clingy fool…” Angie grumbled, leaving the workshop and obeying her owner.

Anyway, she couldn't do anything else, Donna created her.

After a while in silence, only accompanied by kisses, hugs and increasingly suggestive caresses, the doll returned, making you, with a knowing look, move away before your clothes began to disappear.

“It was the Duke,” the doll said, climbing onto Donna's lap, trying, unsuccessfully, to push you away from her. “He says he couldn't come this afternoon.”

“What?” the lady asked, frowning. “Why not?”

“I'm sorry, Miss Angie, personal matters,” the puppet said, imitating the merchant's voice. “What personal matters? Lose weight?”

“Cavolo…” the brunette lamented, passing a hand over her forehead. “We need flour.”

“So?” Angie protested, without being able to move an inch. “Send the fool to get it.”

“Yes, well… (Y/N), would you do me a favor and go to the village?” the lady asked, causing you to suddenly get up from her lap, nervous.

“M-Me? To t-the village?” you asked with difficulty pronouncing the words.

Two years had passed, two happy years without setting foot in the village. All your demons were still present, but, somehow, far away. Returning to the place where you suffered would only make things worse and besides, they would still be there, you were sure.

“Yes, you,” Donna said, frowning, surprised by your reaction. “Do you mind going?”

“Um, well… I… it's been a long time since I've been to the village and…” you murmured, looking away, somewhat embarrassed by your irrational fear.

“Ha!” Angie laughed amused. “Are you afraid of getting lost or something? Please…”

“No, of course not, it's just that…” you said nervously, noticing how sweat was beginning to run down your hands.

You couldn't, you didn't want to go back. Away from that place you had been safe. You just didn't want to go through the same thing. You couldn't do it, unless… Donna accompanied you.

“O-Okay, but… Donna, could you come with me?” you asked with a pleading look.

Being accompanied by a powerful Lord changed things. Maybe if those stupid girls saw you with her they would change their minds, or, at best, they would get the scare of their lives.

“Io?” she asked, pointing at herself. “No.”

“Why not?” you asked approaching the woman in black, who maintained a cold gaze. “How long has it been since you left the house? I think you could use some fresh air.”

“If I want to get some fresh air, I would take a walk around the grounds, like I do with you. I'm sorry, (Y/N), but I don't want to go to the village,” she answered with a dry voice, shaking her head. “I just need flour, the other things can wait. It's not that big of a deal.”

“It's not that big of a deal?” you asked more nervously, looking for somewhere to look. “Donna, I…”

“What's going on? Why don't you want to go to the village, (Y/N)? Is there something you haven't told me?” the lady asked, slowly getting up from the chair and holding your gaze with her eye half-closed.

“Um, no…” you sighed, lying again, unable to show the root of your problems, of your insecurities. “No, but…”

“Then obey, silly,” Angie said, with a severe tone camouflaged in a sinister laugh.

“I… O-Okay,” you said, without further arguments, defeated by that curious look that threatened with one of her interrogations. “I'll go.”

“Fine,” Donna said, arching her eyebrow and sitting down again. “Don't be long, tesoro.”

“N-no,” you murmured, biting your lip and slowly leaving the workshop.

As you walked, you thought about everything happened in that place, everything you had been through: the death of your parents, your loneliness, the cruel teasing of the girls… Everything had been generated in that sinister village. If there was a place you hated, that you never wanted to return to, it was that one.

Luckily, there was tranquility among the houses. No one noticed you as you walked towards your destination. Maybe, just maybe, those girls were no longer there, maybe you were worrying in vain. After all, two years had passed.

Everything seemed to be going surprisingly well, as you made the purchase relaxed, without awkward questions, as if you hadn't disappeared. For a moment, you had the hope that the demons that tormented you had disappeared with the passage of time. Unfortunately, it was a fleeting thought.

“(Y/N), what a surprise,” you recognized that voice immediately, freezing but forcing your legs to keep walking.

“Hey, where are you going so fast?” Olga insisted, grabbing your arm roughly. “Look, Miriam, Alicia, the monster is back.”

“(Y/N), you look ugly, as always,” Miriam said while you struggled against Olga’s grip. “What has happened to you these two years? Apart from being more horrible, of course.”

“Yes, (Y/N), we thought you were dead,” Alicia said, stopping you from moving forward.

“Leave me alone,” you whispered, pushing them away with your shoulder, trying not to hear their hurtful comments.

“What's wrong? Were you petrified by seeing your reflection? Have you hibernated? What happened to you?” Miriam insisted, with that petulant tone that reminded you of your horrible past.

“It's none of your business,” you growled, walking faster, escorted helplessly by the three girls.

“Well, we like to know where the monsters are, right, Olga?” Miriam commented, laughing mockingly. “So we can hide.”

Maybe telling the truth wasn't such a bad idea.

“You want to know where I've been? Huh?” you said, stopping abruptly, tears in your eyes again. “I've been living with Donna Beneviento for two years, she's my... girlfriend,” you said, faltering.

“What?” they asked in unison, looking at each other confused. “You must be kidding.”

“It's not a joke, so... stop, stop messing with me or I'll tell her and...” you said, pretending a threatening tone you weren't able to emit.

“Oh, what will she do to us? You're pathetic, (Y/N), of course, if anyone had to be with the crazy doll lady, it's you.”

“Don't insult her,” you hissed nervously, cornered again.

“Yes, surely that nutcase has noticed you because you're even much uglier than her.”

“Shut up!” you shrieked, shaking the bags in your hand. “I'll tell her and…”

“They say she's more horrible than a lycan,” Alicia hissed, approaching you with a smug smile. “That she has five eyes and claws in her mouth…”

“No, shut up,” you said, noticing how your legs were starting to fail you.

“Alicia, don't mess with the monster's girlfriend,” her friend said, with a cocky pose. “It's the most (Y/N) can aspire to.”

“It's true, although well, she probably hates seeing her face every day, that's why she sends you on errands, right?” she said, making tears return to your eyes.

“Well, a deformed being like her could only be with another deformed being like you. It's nature, but… well, maybe it's not a good thing,” Miriam commented, leaning uncomfortably on your shoulder.

“What do you mean?” one of the girls asked.

“It's obvious. That relationship won't last. Lady Beneviento will probably commit suicide for having her around, just like her parents... or, and yours,” Olga said with a dangerous tone.

“My parents died of an illness,” you growled nervously, looking everywhere, looking for some help.

“Yes, the illness of having an ugly as hell daughter,” the girl laughed, those laughs that didn't leave your mind even when you couldn't hear them.

“Relax, (Y/N), nothing will happen to her when she realizes how ugly you are, she probably won't take long to get rid of you, but... when she does, if you survive, don't go near the village, okay? You give nightmares to the children,” Miriam said.

Unable to defend yourself, you decided to run, to flee, while the three girls laughed amused. You didn't want to blame Donna for not being with you, for not making those stupid girls swallow their words, but you couldn't help but do so.

When you returned home, you didn't give any explanation, you just wanted to cry. You needed to. Your nightmare was far from over and your reflection in the mirror was becoming more and more distorted. It had been a while since you'd seen a person, but a monster.

“I'm telling you something's wrong with her, Donna, can't you see it?” you heard Angie say as you went up to the dining room.

The crying had exhausted you and you had masterfully avoided your girlfriend's questions.

“Yes, she was tired,” the lady whispered, setting the table while you listened, hidden in a corner.

“You're stupid, Donna, it's obvious that she's been crying,” Angie said, tugging at her dress. “I've approached the bedroom and heard sobbing.”

“If (Y/N) has any problems, she would tell me,” Donna said, sure of her words, ones she didn't know were a lie.

“Maybe the problem is you,” Angie murmured. “Donna, you are as understanding as a glass of water, why don't you ask her and…?”

“Oh, (Y/N),” the lady said when she saw you appear, with a tender smile, one that you returned with great effort. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yes, I just needed to rest,” you murmured with your voice broken by crying, letting the lady kiss you quickly before accompanying you to the table.

“Mm,” she murmured with a sweet smile as she sat in front of you, thus beginning another of your romantic, silent dinners. “Angie told me you have been crying.”

“Oh,” you sighed. “T-the allergy, you know.”

“If something worries you, (Y/N), you must tell me. You haven't said a single word since you came back from the village,” Donna commented, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye as she poured you a glass of wine.

“Nothing's wrong with me,” you said, feigning confidence, stopping eating for a moment and looking at the lady, who was frowning. “Hey, Donna, you… you love me, don't you?”

“Of course I love you, amore mio,” she sighed, reaching out her hand to caress yours. “I see tears in your eyes, tesoro. Please tell me what's wrong.”

“Nothing, I just sometimes wonder what you're doing with me,” you said in a sad tone, returning to your dinner.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Donna said amused, thus showing her lack of ability to understand emotions, something she wasn’t guilty of.

Poor Donna had been alone almost all her life. She wasn’t able to see the glow that indicated there was something wrong.

“Everything was delicious, Donna, but I think I'll go to sleep, I'm kind of tired,” you whispered after dinner, getting up from the chair.

“Wait,” she said, grabbing your wrist before you left. “(Y/N), I'm sorry about not going with you. If you're upset about that, I beg you to forgive me.”

“Oh, don't worry,” you said with a fake smile, kissing the back of her hand. “I have nothing to forgive you for.”

“Yes, but…” the lady said hastily, getting up and cupping your face in her hands. “I want to make it up to you. Tomorrow I have a meeting with my siblings and maybe, well, maybe you want to accompany me.”

“Do you want me to accompany you?” you asked, blushing at the proposal.

“Yes, um, the only bad thing is that you would have to wait outside, but I could give you that walk through the village, do you fancy it?”

“Sounds good, thanks, Donna,” you sighed, kissing her cheek with hope resurfacing in your chest.

Maybe, finally, you could get your revenge, scare those stupid girls, show them that they couldn't mess with you, that Donna was by your side, that she loved you, and that she didn't think you were horrible, because she didn't, right?

Luck didn't seem to be on your side at all. The next day, you walked with the veiled lady through the village.

There weren't many people on the street and they all lowered their heads as soon as they saw you. You clung to Donna’s arm, keeping her close, looking with your eyes for those girls, who seemed to resist appearing.

You finally reached the entrance of the cathedral, where you would have to wait. You were disappointed for not having been able to fulfill your objective, but you were patient, since there was still the way back.

“Well, well...” that voice, that voice again.

“What are you doing here, (Y/N)? Have you come to ask Mother Miranda to end your suffering?” other girl asked while you read quietly under a statue.

Unconsciously, you looked at the cathedral, looking for a help that wouldn’t come.

“I'm afraid there is no remedy for you, (Y/N),” Alicia said, letting herself fall next to you. “You are so ugly that not even the Black Gods could fix you.”

“Leave me alone,” you whispered, without taking your eyes off the door.

“Has your girlfriend committed suicide already? I would if I had to wake up every day next to a monster like you,” Olga commented, imitating her friend's gesture. “Now it's time to go after another Lord, isn't it? How about Moreau? You two look quite alike.”

“Yes, you'd make a good couple,” Miriam mocked, opening her eyes wide immediately.

“Ladies... Do you think it's fun to mess with my sister's girlfriend?” a seductive, velvety voice appeared behind you, the lady of the castle, Alcina Dimitrescu.

“My lady,” the girls repeated, standing up and bowing.

“Gods... How inelegant you are, my dears,” the lady in white murmured, placing a huge hand on your shoulder. “Maybe a few days in my castle will teach you some manners.”

“No, my lady, we're leaving now, my lady,” one girl said, terrified, walking backwards.

“Get out...” Alcina whispered, shaking her head. “Get out!”

You were nervous, sobbing, watching those three demons flee in terror. In other circumstances you might have laughed, but not at that moment.

“My dear… How do you let them say those things to you?” Alcina asked, sitting down next to you as best she could, running a hand over your tear-wet cheeks. “Can't you defend yourself?”

“I-I've been hearing them say that for so long that… that…” you said hiccupping, succumbing to your complexes, ones they created. “They're right.”

“They're right? Please,” she sighed, putting her arms around your shoulders. “You must be blind, dear. Those three stupid girls are just jealous.”

“I have nothing for them to envy… I'm a monster,” you sobbed, covering your face with your hands.

“Maybe you and I have a different idea of ​​what monsters are like, my dear,” the lady of the castle said, shaking her head and patting your back. “I assure you that I have rarely seen a girl as beautiful as you. You must believe me, I know a lot about beautiful girls.”

“No, that's not true, that's…” you stammered, ignoring the compliment. “It's a lie.”

“Hey! Keep your claws off our (Y/N)!” Angie shrieked, appearing next to Donna and threatening the vampire.

“Your (Y/N)?” the lady in white asked, standing up elegantly. “My dear… If she is really yours, you should care a little more about her.”

“What happened? Why is the fool crying?” the doll asked as the lady in black approached, bending down to lift your chin, a touch you rejected.

“Three undesirable vermin were mocking poor (Y/N). Donna, you disappoint me, how can you allow them to say such things to your girl?”

“Cosa?” the brunette whispered raising her gaze and abandoning her touch on you. “Mocking?”

“Sì, cara mia… Allow me some advice: protect what is yours if you want to have the guts to call yourself a Lord, because if you don’t… well, I suppose there will always be room in the castle for this beautiful young woman, right?”

“Who did it!?” Donna shouted, frantically, comically pulling on Alcina's white dress, making her laugh amused. “Who did it!?”

“Mm, three young girls, they went that way,” Alcina pointed with her head.

“Come on, Donna!” Angie shrieked, walking in that direction. “It's been a long time since we had some fun.”

“Wait!” you screamed, grabbing the doll maker by the hand. “Leave it be, Donna, let's go home, please,” you begged, sobbing, wanting to disappear from that scene.

“No,” she hissed, pulling away from your grip. “They will pay for it.”

“No, no please, Donna!” you shrieked, pulling the lady under the watchful gaze of her sister. “It doesn't matter, I just want to go home, please.”

“What did they say to you, (Y/N)? Why were they making fun of you?” Donna said nervously, putting her hands on your shoulders. “What did they say to you?”

“It doesn't matter, Donna, really,” you insisted, resisting her nervous grip, her nails digging into your skin.

“They've hinted to your girl that she's… ugly, which is nonsense in my opinion, don't you think, Donna?” the vampire explained in an indifferent tone.

“Ugly? Her?” the lady in black asked in a confused tone, looking at you slowly. “But…”

You sobbed, hurt, deeply hurt, and turned around, running away from the women, returning home with a heartbroken cry.

There was nothing to do. Donna had discovered your problems, and you couldn't, nor did you want to wait to hear how she might agree. You wanted to cry, scream, but above all, you wanted to be alone.

You couldn't tell how long you were crying against the pillow, in the dark bedroom, hearing in the background a tireless knocking at the door.

“Apri la porta, (Y/N)!” Donna shouted from the other side. “Do it! Do you dare to disobey me?”

“I want to be alone!” you shouted, resting your head on the pillow. “I don't want you to tell me they're right, I don't want to hear it!”

“Cazzo!” Donna shrieked, banging on the door harder. “Why are you repeating that nonsense!? Open the door! Ugh…”

“No!” you screamed childishly, glancing at yourself in the small mirror on the vanity table. “You want to leave me? That's it, isn't it? You'll leave me because I'm ugly!”

“What the hell are you talking about? (Y/N)… open the door,” the lady hissed, getting impatient. “Please, I can't stand to see you cry, I know it's not the first time you've done it.”

“What do you care if I cry? You'll leave me anyway,” you said, sitting up and rubbing your stinging eyes. “Say it already.”

“What? What do you want me to say?” It was heard from the other side.

“That I'm horrible!” you shrieked, opening the door and running away from the lady, who grabbed you tightly by the arms.

“You're pissing me off, (Y/N)…” she hissed, not letting you escape. “Now you're going to tell me what's wrong with you, why you don't stop crying day after day if you don't want me to get really angry, you don't want that, right?”

You could only shake your head.

“Well, talk, what's all this business about those girls? Why do you cry every night?” she asked, in a calmer tone, wiping away your tears. “Tesoro, you're so ugly when you cry…”

“I'm always ugly,” you murmured, sitting on the bed and playing with your hands. “T-Those girls…” you started when the brunette sat next to you, ignoring your self-pity. “…T-They were never my friends but since I was very little they were always… harassing me, insulting me…”

“(Y/N)…” Donna whispered, nodding for you to continue.

“I know I'm not beautiful, but they... they're always reminding me and laughing at me and... even when some guy would come over, they would talk him out of it, telling horrible lies and...”

“I don't get it, (Y/N), what's this about you being ugly? I'm sorry, but I can't understand,” she stammered, frowning, confused.

“Stop pretending! Look at me!” you shrieked, pointing at your face. “They're right, I'm horrible...”

“Are you sure about that? Are you completely sure?” Donna asked, pulling your hand, lifting you from the bed and dragging you to the mirror, sitting you roughly on the stool. “Look, (Y/N), look!”

“D-Donna...” you stammered scared as the lady grabbed your face, forcing you to look at your reflection.

“Look at yourself, (Y/N). Look at your face, your eyes, your lips…” she whispered, fixing her eye on your reflection while holding your head. “I've never seen a girl as beautiful as you.”

“Y-You're just saying that to cheer me up,” you murmured, lowering your head. “It's not true, I…”

“I can't believe you, (Y/N), even my sister has noticed that you're beautiful, do you really think she offers anyone a room at the castle? Please open your eyes, look at reality.”

You shook your head, looking at all your features, features that, you began to notice, weren't those of a monster.

“If you think you're horrible, (Y/N), what am I?” she hissed, pointing at the deformity of her face. “You've never needed to cover your face, have you? You don't need a veil…”

“Donna, I didn't mean…” you said regretfully, blinking. “It's just that they…”

“They? They're just bitches!” the lady shouted, cursing like never before. “Do you know what their only problem is? That they'll never be as beautiful as you.”

“S-So… you think that…”

“They're just jealous, (Y/N), jealous of you, but you know what? You shouldn't care, all you have to do is… look in the mirror and acknowledge the facts. You're the most beautiful girl in the village, and I don't have enough gratitude for the Gods, because someone like me is lucky enough to have you.”

“Donna,” you said with tears in your eyes, believing her words, forgetting the insults, the years of teasing, realizing that she was right, that boys were approaching you in droves, interested in you and scared by those stupid girls, just out of jealousy because they would never be like you.

“Come here,” Donna whispered lovingly, lifting you from the vanity table and grabbing you by the waist. “Promise me that you will never believe a single word again. You must believe me, tesoro. I will always tell you the truth.”

“I... I don't know what to say,” you stammered, excited because, for the first time, Donna had managed to calm your fears, because you realized that you should have always trusted her, that this nightmare would have ended if you had told her what was tormenting you during those nights of crying.

“Mm, then don't say anything, just kiss me, bella,” the lady whispered, slowly approaching your lips, devouring them in a wet and warm kiss, comforting and salty with tears.

It was a long, deep kiss, animated by the silence, by the nervous breaths your lips emitted while they caressed each other. Her hands grabbed your waist, bringing you closer to her body, letting all her warmth embrace you slowly, without hurrying, while you had fun messing up her black hair, letting it fall on her shoulders.

“I love you,” you whispered, keeping your eyes on hers, running a hand over the scar that deformed her face, discreetly consoling her own insecurities. “I love you…”

Donna smiled, closing her eye so your hands caressed her soft skin, letting only you have that privilege, only you realize that she was a beautiful woman, that her beauty was only for you.

The doubts, the insecurities disappeared little by little, with each step you took towards the bed, with the voices of your demons camouflaged by the wet sound of the kisses, of the steps on the wood. Donna let her body rest on yours as her hands clung to your face while her lips reluctantly moved away from yours kissing your skin slowly, whispering things you didn't understand, but tickled your flesh.

“Beautiful... the most beautiful girl in the world,” she whispered in your ear, her hips betraying her desire, her fingers caressing your collarbone and her lips refusing to abandon the softness of your skin.

You laughed at the compliment, wanting to give her that affection too, running your hands over the perfection of her body, her waist, her chest covered by what at that moment seemed to you to be a horrible black dress.

“Donna...” you gasped when those innocent hands stopped being innocent, when they attacked the ties of your dress and pulled it down your body while you were distracted by her kisses, with her shy tongue bristling every inch of your skin. “Donna…”

She didn’t answer, since worshipping your body was a task that always required all her attention. Her legs settled on either side of your hips and her fingertips undid the annoying bra that covered you.

You gasped again, letting yourself be carried away by the subtle movements of her body, with your hands struggling to make their way over her chest, to undress it, to delight your eyes with her naked and perfect body.

Her kisses went down little by little, without it seeming important to her the hand that slipped through her dress, the hand that caressed her chest softly, a chest that rose and fell nervously, anxious to know what your fingers would do to it.

She pulled away from your lips, sitting up for a moment to look at you, with a cold, thoughtful look. You wondered what was going through her mind, what she was thinking about while her two hands passed over your naked skin, stopping at your breasts, squeezing them in a dominant, but kind, respectful way.

“Il tuo corpo è bellisimo,” she whispered slowly so you could understand her and blush while laughing shyly.

Your smile provoked hers, and without knowing what you wanted, the lady in black stopped being so, taking that annoying dress off her body, staring at you.

“If you say those things to me... I won't be able to control myself,” you said amused, with a mischievous look, grabbing the back of her neck and bringing her lips to their only possible place at that moment, kissing yours.

The kisses heated the atmosphere like a fireplace in winter. Your bodies danced tirelessly, more and more exposed, naked. The caresses became subtle scratches, claims of ownership as you panted on her lips.

Your hands became jealous, they wanted to touch her, to feel her bare chest as it rubbed against yours, to delight in the perfection of her figure always hidden, always ashamed.

No, Donna had nothing to be ashamed of. She was a terribly beautiful woman even if she refused to recognize it. Then, you realized that your frustration must be similar to hers.

Two women in love unable to recognize each other's beauty; you seemed predestined, it seemed that the only thing you could do in your sad life was to be together, to love each other, to kiss each other, to fuse your bodies into one and tell the world that you were both making love with beauty itself.

You protested with a moan when you noticed how her lips left yours, how her silky hair tickled your skin and her hands grabbed your legs, moving them at will.

Your fingers searched for each of the corners that disappeared little by little, they searched for her breasts, to make her nipples stand up like she had done with yours. It was the least that a Goddess like Donna deserved, but she didn’t allow it.

Her lust had other plans, her lips wanted to kiss your breasts, your belly, your thighs… She didn't want to let you think that there was a single inch of your body that wasn't worth worshiping.

“Donna…” you moaned, relaxing your body as you felt her lips on your wetness, her tongue caressing your most intimate area while your hands desperately sank into your hair.

She laughed against your skin without stopping her wet feat, running through your folds, playing with your clit and gently stimulating it so the pleasure wasn't overwhelming. She wasn't making love to you; she wasn't giving you oral sex, no… Donna was worshiping you.

Her kisses weren't fast or anxious, they were slow; they were made to enjoy the taste of your arousal, to get those soft and erotic movements of your hips. You wanted to protest, to demand a place between her legs too, but she didn't let you.

“Shhh, this is just for you, amore mio…” Donna whispered into your skin, adding her hands to the fun, trying to stimulate the parts her tongue abandoned.

You wouldn't feel cold, you wouldn't feel neglected, she was there to make you enjoy as she thought you deserved.

Your childish grunts and protests began to drown with moans of pleasure, with intense shivers, when one of her fingers followed the path of her tongue, impregnating itself in your wet core, playing with your eager entrance.

“Donna, please,” you said without wanting to, involuntarily begging for that pleasure to materialize, to stop being superficial.

The lady heard you, pressing her lips to your skin for the last time and climbing your nakedness, allowing you to taste yourself in her kisses, in a terribly erotic way.

There was barely time to enjoy that sensation, as her fingers entered you without wasting any more time, curling into your trembling core, one that was already unbearably hot.

Her movements were soft, careful, perfectly timed by her kisses and caresses, by subtle moans that came from her lips, by the pure and almost innocent pleasure of giving you that altruistic passion, one just for you.

The moans soon got out of control, causing your imperfect nails to scratch the perfection of her skin, marking her back to cushion the waves of pleasure you felt. Her fingers were harmonious, tireless, tender and passionate, running along your walls in a unique way, entering, leaving, caressing…

“Donna! I’m…!” you screamed when your hips jerked sharply, when your interior kept her fingers still at the same time your entire back tensed, accompanied by a very scandalous moan.

Of course, your release wasn't going to put an end to that pleasure. Without giving Donna time to protest, you threw yourself at her, immobilizing her, not allowing her to embrace you without returning the favor first.

Clumsily, but with desire, you imitated her movements, you sank into her eager wetness, which seemed to call you, to turn you on just with her scent. Your tongue, your lips… everything she gave you came back in the best way you wanted, making the normally shy and silent Donna Beneviento unable to help but scream.

She had her release and the kisses returned, rubbing your bodies tirelessly, brushing your wet core with her thigh while she did the same, hugging each other, looking into each other's eyes, loving each other in a hot, erotic and unmatched way.

“Donna…” you sighed once the action ended, collapsing in her arms after a second orgasm, with your demons far away from you. “I love you…”

She laughed, kissing you on the forehead and rubbing your back, but suddenly she frowned, pushing you away.

“Where are you going? Come here, my love,” you said with a sad look, watching how the lady got out of bed and started to get dressed, with a frivolous, almost dark face.

“Stay here, tesoro, I'll be back soon… I have to talk to three stupid girls…”

[simp-ly-writes]

'Not-A-Couple' Couple

─────── · · A Smosh FanFic

Pairing: Trevor Evarts x Short!Chef!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: Its Who Meme'd It time yet again and the guest star today is you! It being your first time on a Smosh set, you don't expect anything to happen but how wrong are you when all the meme's appear to be about you and your totally-not boyfriend (and coworker), Trevor.

─ · · TAGS: gender-neutral pronouns, no use of (y/n), light swearing, mutual pining, fluff, short, attempt at comedy.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 811

─ · · A/N: I fully support Trevors IRL relationships, this is fully fictional and meant for entertainment purposes! Thank you for the ask, anon!!! 🥹 I hope you enjoy~

─────── · ·

Trevor Evarts was your best friend; you both went to culinary school together and since then have worked side by side in the kitchen ever since. There was not a singular moment in the day that you both wouldn't be seen without the other in the general vicinity- so much so that it had become a meme around both the Good Mythical Morning Kitchen and Smosh studios.

Any possible duo theme, thing one and thing two, sun and shadow, stars and moon, scooby to their shaggy- whatever it was you both had heard of it already to describe the two of you. It also didn't help when you both shared clothes and accessories: that hoodie of yours? Now Trevors. Those cookie-themed socks Trevor got for the holidays last year? Yours. And you both couldn't get started on kitchen utensils either- you both infamous for your... cleanly work stations.

So when you got called in as a guest star for Smosh one afternoon after preparing food for thee Harrison Ford's last meal, you were more than confused and more than covered in layers of flour and sugar dragging your tried limbs to the set.

You loved watching Trevor preform more than anything, your eyes hyper-focused on his every expression as you mirrored his smile even as it grew once meeting your eyes from behind the camera. He was doing quite well this game, more so then he had done in the past once watching old videos, and you were anxious for him to win but it seemed that the Smosh cast would have otherwise.

To your shock and horror and to Smosh's love and joy, every subsequent meme since you had entered the room had suddenly became concentrated on you and Trevors NON-Existent (romantic) relationship.

The screen flooded with image after image: you and Trevor drawn like toad and frog. Trevor when he licks icing off of your cheek. Your cheeks warming when Trevor calls you anything but you name but also when he calls you name (and Trevor doing the same). Two Chefs one Bed. Trevor and you after-hours staying behind to eat leftovers under the studios fairy lights. Trevor placing items up high on purpose to get your attention. Trevor standing behind you as a protecting presence for your anxiety. You kicking Trevor in the shins (gently) when annoyed with him. You and Trevor holding hands when you both think nobody is watching- you name it and you were being lovingly attacked for it.

Cheeks were burning hot now as you stuck your middle finger up to camera and stood up to swore before Damien was pressing your shoulder down for you to sit, eyes filled with tears from laughing so hard as Trevor did his best to hide himself behind his answer board. You both refused to look at one another so much so that the next meme depicted this exact scenario.

"(name) and Trevor when they both get called out for 'just being really, super, truly, goof friends, be like:" Tommy reads out the text before pointing between the two of you with a large grin that has you questioning the most effective way to be rid of its teasing glory in your face.

"Comments are gonna be absolutely wild underneath this video," Trevor mutters underneath his breath, surprised that the audio team let alone you was even able to pick up on his mutterings from behind all this unfolding chaos.

"When have the comments never been wild between the two of us?" You yell out from behind camera while shaking your head.

"Oh?" Tommy quips, raising a brows and leaning over the table dramatically intrigued only for you both to return to your hiding stances as you grip Damien for cover as Trevor falls beneath the table.

─────── · ·

Who Meme'd It: Hells Kitchen Edition

Smosh Pit ✓ [Subscribed] 👍 67k | 👎 8.36M subscribers 300k views 1 week ago your fav 'not-a-couple' is back! click to read more

1,110 Comments

username01 (name) out here lookin' like they are about to murder the whole cast at 14:11. I live for their energy! 😂

username24 19:21 "Your cheeks warming when Trevor calls you anything but you name but also when he calls you name (and Trevor doing the same)" AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH 🥰😭

username99 soooooo.... are they together oooorrrr??

username00 Trevor and (name), please take this as a formal request for you both to get together (romantically preferably).

username45 Not (name) using Damien as a cover 😂😂

↳ username88 IKR?? they got me chocking on my tacos over here XD

username77 the mutual pining was real. I. fucking. knew. it.

username10 24:34 "Comments are gonna be absolutely wild underneath this video," - Trevor Evarts 2024. Yes, sir- they are.

username61 someone comment on this comment when these two idiots get engaged, I need to know when for... scientific purposes...

─────── · ·

─ · · TREVOR TAGLIST: @lisiliely @missflufffanfics @thevintagefangirl @maricarorp @uniquely-haunting

[dsireland86]

Omg I just read Denial and it was so good! But we need a follow up please on how the boys find out that Matt & Y/N are finally together and of course the bet they made pretty please with a cherry on top 🥰

Sweet!!! I'm really happy you liked it!! I thought it turned out really good, too. Let's see what I can come up with for a part 2

Denial Pt. 2

18+below the cut

Tags: @philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @theanarchymuse95 @thisbicc @lma1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa @fadingintothegrey @an0mallly @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @mrsnoahsebastian @flowery-mess @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @stardustsirenmelody @romanreigns-supreme @anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @rumoured-whispers

Y/N woke up, stretching and yawning. The bright sun was pouring through the closed blinds, trying to make itself visible. Looking around, she searched the room for the one person she thought for sure she'd see when waking up, but Matt's sweet face was nowhere to be seen.

Matt pushed open the door with his foot, carrying a can of Celsius on one hand and a steaming hot cup of coffee in the other. He didn't look up at her, in fear he'd break his concentration of walking all the way from the kitchen to the bedroom without spilling a drop.

Y/N watched him, smiling big, biting her lip the moment Matt sat the cup down on the bedside table next to her.

"Hi," he said with a grin. "Hi," Y/N replied. "I made you coffee." "I see that." I didn't know what you usually put in yours." "What did you put in it?" "Two sugars and a little milk." "Oh dang, I usually take five sugars." Matt's face wrinkled in disgust, making Y/N chuckle. "I'm kidding, Matt. The way you made it is perfect." Matt relaxed, climbing into bed with her. 

He at least had shorts on, but Y/N was still naked.

"I'm already addicted to the feeling of your skin against mine," Matt confessed rubbing his nose against hers

"Well then, these need to come off," Y/N teased, rubbing her leg against his shorts.

Matt sat up, instantly taking them off and tossing them to the floor, parting her legs to lay back down.

His cock that was soft a few minutes ago was hard now, pressed close against her sex. Matt rutted softly against her as they slowly kissed. Her small whimpers instigated every thought he was having of being inside her to the point that he was trying hard to move just his tip against her.

Y/N slightly wiggled around until finally Matt slipped inside her, filling her sex completely. The way he stretched her, moving against her walls like he'd known them forever, made Y/N completely defenseless. She dug at his back, running her nails all the way down to his ass, squeezing it as she pushed him up into her.

Matt grunted over and over, gently thrusting into her, yet hard enough so she'd remember him throughout the day.

"Oh god, I hate how much I need you," he groaned, sliding his lips over the skin of her neck. He kept going, reaching her breasts and wrapping his lips around each nipple, sucking them and rolling them around his tongue. He reached her belly sweetly peppering it with kisses. But that wasn't where Y/N wanted him.

She thrusted her hips, forcing her soaked, aching sex into Matt until he got the idea. Looking up at her, Matt grinned softly before lowering his face between her legs. He could already smell her sex and it smelled amazing.

Using just the tip of his tongue, Matt teased Y/N, getting off on just the way she panted and moaned for him. Her soft cries as she clawed at the bed sheets had his mind on a high. Never before had he made love to a girl who responded to him in the way Y/N was.

"You're pussy tastes so fucking good, baby." He peered up at her, grinning when he saw her watching him. Spreading her wet folds open, Matt went deep inside her with his tongue, licking, sucking, and nipping until all that could be heard was her loud, desperate moans and cries.

"Fuck, Matt, you're gonna make me cum! Don't stop!"

She pushed him against her sex, thrusting lightly into his mouth. It wasn't until the friction of his nose rubbing against her clit started that the immense pressure in her lower abdomen became unmanageable and before she could say anything she gripped the bed sheets tightly, crying Matt's name as her orgasm ripped through her, completely ruining her.

Matt cleaned her with his tongue, swallowing everything, then wiped his mouth before collapsing next to her. Y/N was breathless, eyes closed tightly as she tried to recover.

"You okay?" Matt was a little worried he'd overdone it. Luckily, Y/N nodded, finally turning over and looking at him.

"That was a little intense."

"First time for everything," Matt smirked. "It sure is." "What?" "That was a first for me." Matt sat up, shocked. "You're lying!" Y/N shook her head. "How's that even possible?" She shrugged. "Matt, I've only been with two guys before you, and both of them were serious relationships." Matt's brows creased. "You've never had an overnight fling or anything like that?" Y/N shook her head again. "Wow! I feel like a man whore now," Matt laughed. "Why? How many girls have you been with?" Matt laughed nervously. "Ummm, well," he huffed another laugh, "at least five or six." Y/N's widened in surprise. "Damn." "Or seven.." "Seven!" "I'm joking," he smiled. Y/N threw a pillow at him. "Funny," she rolled her eyes.

"I thought so," Matt said, standing up and holding his hands out. "Come on, let's go shower before heading over to the studio. Noah's been blowing up my phone this morning."

"Oh god! You know why, don't you?" Y/N groaned, getting up and wrapping the sheet around her as she took Matt's hand.

"Um, should I?"

"Remember, they already think we're a thing, Matt. I bet you Noah's already made a bet or something with the others over if we've slept together or not."

Matt laughed, closing the bathroom door. He turned on the shower, making sure the water was the right temperature before turning back to her and pulling the sheet off her body.

"You overthink things way too much," he said, scooping her up in his arms, kissing her madly to the point that she quickly forgot about Noah or anything else.

"Round two?" Matt muttered against her lips, pulling her into the shower and under the hot water.

"Absolutely!"

Y/N and Matt stole one more heated kiss before exiting the car. He walked into the studio first, Y/N tagging along behind him quietly, pretending to be interested in something on her phone. It took all her effort not to reach out and take his hand just to feel his skin on hers.

The moment they walked into the studio, Y/N felt all eyes on her. She smiled at the guys, noticing the looks they were giving her and Matt; especially Noah. The shit eating grin on his face was already making her paranoid.

"What?" "What?" "Why are you looking at me like that?" "Like what?" She rolled her eyes at Noah, sighing. "Leave me alone, Noah, please." "Have a late night?" You give him a hard scowl. "What are you implying?" Noah shakes his head, trying hard to mask his grin. "Nothing. Did they fix the water pipe in your building yet?" "I don't know yet," Y/N scowled at him skeptically. "What did you and Matt do last night?" "I don't know, Noah, I fell asleep before he even came home," she answered, clearly irritated.

"Wow, okay, calm down, I was just asking," Noah said defensively, holding his hands up.

Y/N growled in frustration, storming off before Noah could drill her for any more information.

Jolly came over to Noah, folding his arms over his chest. "Well, what do you think?" "Oh," Noah laughed, turning to face Jolly. "They clearly slept together." "Fuck!" Jolly cursed. "Well, I'm not paying up until you can prove it." "Alright, that's fine," Noah said. "But I will. Just watch." He patted Jolly on the back before walking away.

Throughout the day, Matt focused hard on the music and the upcoming tour. He poured himself into it, working with Folio on a new drum pattern for a revised edition of an older song. Jolly and Nick hammered out some new chords with Noah tracking some new vocal sounds, trying to find new ways to revamp some of the songs.

Y/N drowned herself in helping Bryan organize and edit photos from the previous shows they did, which were a few sporadic ones here and there. But, no matter how hard she and Matt tried, they couldn't keep their eyes off each other for too long.

Finally, towards the end of the day, Y/N couldn't handle it any longer and pulled Matt into a small bathroom, locking the door.

"It's too dark," Matt whispered, feeling around in the darkness for any sign of Y/N.

"That's the whole point. We don't want to draw attention," she replied quietly, removing her shirt.

Matt's hands found her, running over the softness of her small breast, instantly making her nipples hard.

"Oh baby," he moaned for her, pinching the pebbled flesh between his thumbs and fingers.

"How wet are you for me?" he asked, slipping his hand down her leggings and under her panties, straight into her pussy.

"Oh fuck, so wet," he groaned. "Matty," Y/N whined quietly. "What do you want, baby? You want me inside you." "Uh-huh, yeah, I do, right now."

In the pitch black, Matt quickly undressed, lifting Y/N onto the counter and removing her remaining clothing. He didn't waste a second, pulling her into him and filling her fully with his hard cock. His thickness against her walls was more than she could handle, and Matt had to press his hand against her mouth to keep her quiet as he fucked her hard.

It wasn't long until both of them came together, panting and sweaty as they clung to one another.

"Holy shit, Y/N, is this what I've been missing all this time," Matt said, dropping his head into the crook of her neck. She caressed his back, kissing the side of his head and laying her cheek on his shoulder.

"I know. You feel amazing inside me."

Matt's lips found hers in the dark, their tongues breaking the barriers of their teeth and meeting wildly. His hands tangled in her hair, as did hers in his.

"I don't want anyone else, Y/N. Only you. Let's make this thing for real. I don't care what the fuck the guys say and how much the make fun of us. You're the one I want. It's always been you.”

Tears rolled down Y/N's eyes over Matt's confession. All the months of working for him, trying to keep her feelings for him suppressed, were finally over.

"I want nothing more than you too, Matt. You're my person. You've always been my person. Yes, let's make this thing for real."

Matt pulled out of her, finding enough paper towels to clean her up with, and finally turning the light on, they dressed, grinning at one another as they did. Matt kissed her on the forehead, wrapping his arms around her.

A sudden knock on the door startled both of them, making their hearts beat heavily against their chests. Matt and Y/N look at one another, eyes wide.

"I'm in here," Matt called out.

"Matt, have you seen Y/N? I can't find her. I need her help editing the last few photos."

Both of them sighed, exhaling in relief.

"No, I haven't. Last time I saw her she was with you. But I'm taking a dump, so if you don't mind,"

"Oh yeah, sorry man," Bryan apologized, walking away.

Y/N giggled quietly, kissing Matt quickly. He turned the light off and left the bathroom, texting Y/N moments later that the coast was clear.

"Noah, I think you're wrong, man. I'm not seeing anything that proves the two of them slept together."

Jolly grabbed his bag, ready to leave the studio.

Noah was frustrated. He was more than sure Matt and Y/N had slept together and were a thing. He was about to call the deal off when he saw Matt exit the bathroom. "Hey," he grinned, patting Jolly on the shoulder and pointing towards the bathroom. They watched as Matt closed the door and  moments later Y/N sneaking out and walking off in the opposite direction. Jolly groaned, looking over at Noah.

"I'll take my fifty bucks now," he smirked, holding his hand out. Jolly groaned, slapping a fifty into Noah's hand before walking away.

"They all know, now," Matt told her, running his finger up and down her shoulder. Y/N was curled up into him, her head resting on his chest as she danced her fingers along his skin. She took a deep breath, exhaling quickly.

"How do you know?" "Noah called me after everyone left the studio. You were right, they all already knew."

Y/N sat up, looking down at Matt.

"See, I told you! And you told me I was overthinking too much. Ha!" "Alright, slow your roll cougar," Matt ordered, pulling her back down on him. "If we're going to make this thing work, you need to trust my intuition. I know things." "Oh you do, do you," Matt chuckled, lightly tickling her sides and making her giggle. "Yeah, I do," she laughed, sitting back up. "Do you know what I'm thinking?"

Her eyes narrowed at Matt, seeing that familiar twinkle in his eyes. She knew exactly what he was thinking from the way his hand traveled to crotch.

Y/N straddled him, scooting down, far enough to position herself where she wanted.

"Oh yeah, I know exactly what you're thinking," she grinned at him, lowering her head down between his legs.

Matt sighed, closing his eyes and laying his hand on the back of her head as she took him in her mouth and began giving him the best head he'd ever had.

[peachhcs]

https://www.tumblr.com/peachhcs/766558720067043328/httpswwwtumblrcompeachhcs766163417530875904

EMMMMMMM! i know you love cliff hangers you always do them :(((( !!! but like still amazing holy crap

yes yes immediately yes. another part for sure!we need will and sam to finally talk

PART 7!!!! (yes there will be more and as many parts as y'all want this to be) here's also a small moment of will dropping eveyrthing for samy, but it will also be in the next part as well 😌

au masterlist

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6

"hello?" will breathed.

"will?" a wave of relief washed through him when he heard samy's familar voice on the other end.

"samy? h-hi.." he was at a loss for words that he couldn't say anything other than hi despite the million questions running through his brain.

"h-hi. i-i'm sorry this is..i haven't called," samy started and will could hear the edge in her voice which made his heart break.

"let's go boys! on the ice!" coach warsofsky called into the locker room, his loud voice making the blonde cringe and curse to himself because this phone call really couldn't have happened at a worse time.

"shit, are you at practice right now? i-i'm sorry..i totally forgot..i can call back?" samy began when she heard his coach through the phone. shit.

will knew he needed to get on the ice or else warsofsky would make him do lines, but he couldn't just hang up now—not when he was finally hearing his girlfriend's voice after a day of not hearing anything. plus, he knew one of the reasons samy probably didn't call until now was because she didn't want to distract him from hockey.

"come on, pick it up! pick it up! we have a long practice ahead of us!" warsofsky boomed again as more of will's teammates filed out of the locker room.

fuck it.

will dashed out of the locker room through the other exit. he scrambled into the hallway where he nearly fell over from his skates still on and the blade cover hitting the tile. "no, no..i can talk. i promise. it's good to hear your voice..i-i was worried," will admitted softly, sinking onto the ground where he pulled his skates off.

"y-yeah. sorry. i'm sorry. i should've called. i don't know i didn't. i just–"

"are you okay? luke told me about your surgery," will cut the brunette off because even though he was upset that she didn't call him, he needed to make sure she was okay first and foremost.

"uh, yeah. i'm okay. just a tendon tear. nothing serious," samy swallowed, glad will couldn't see the anxiety clouding around her while she glanced around the hospital room and luke pretending not to listen.

"a tendon tear is kind of serious..you didn't get up off the field," will said more as a statement.

"i-i..yeah..but i'm fine now. i promise. it just kind of knocked the wind out of me, but i'm fine. i promise," the girl said like she was trying to prove it to herself too.

"i'm glad you're okay. i was really worried about you," his words made samy feel even guiltier, especially because of the soft tone he was using with her even though she expected him to be mad she didn't call sooner.

"i know. i'm sorry. i should've called," the youngest hughes admitted, head hanging low.

"why didn't you?" will asked, his voice still soft which made samy cringe.

"i just..i didn't wanna bother you knowing you're still getting settled into the team and the season..i didn't think it mattered because i'm fine now and it wasn't anything serious like i was dying or something," the brunette admitted again.

"of course it matters. you matter to me. you're my number one priority," his words brought a bright blush to her cheeks.

"you just have so much on your plate..i didn't wanna burden you. didn't wanna..put too much on you and make you run out or something.." samy mumbled the last part and will was pretty sure he felt his heart shatter into a million little pieces hearing her say that.

"you thought i was gonna..leave you again?" the crack in his voice hurt. a lot.

"i dunno..maybe? i didn't wanna.. be too much or something."

the silence engulfed them whole. will pulled a hand through his hair as he struggled to find the right words and samy bit back more tears threatening to escape.

"you know i'd never leave you again, right? i love you, samy. a lot more than i can even begin to explain," finally, will said something while trying to keep his voice from cracking even more.

"i know that."

"you're not a burden to me, i promise. you're the only thing i think about all the time so there's no way you'd be too much for me. if anything, i'm too much for you," his attempt at a small joke made both of them laugh.

"i love you, will. i'm really sorry i was scared to reach out. i guess it's just been hard..trusting again," the brunette mumbled a bit ashamedly and that broke will's heart again knowing samy was still trying to trust him.

before he could respond though, the door next to him burst open and he snapped his head up. macklin stared down at him looking wide-eyed. "there you are, smitty. you gotta get on the ice. coach is looking for you," the brunette rushed out and will knew he needed to go for real this time.

"yeah, okay. i'm on it. tell him i was in the bathroom," will said and macklin nodded as the two hurried back into the locker room.

"i'll call you again, okay? i love you," will said to samy still on the phone.

"yeah, okay. sorry for keeping you. i love you," and that was it. they hung up and the blonde quickly rushed to the rink before he got in even more trouble.

later, while will waited for macklin to finish up his shower, he was on his phone searching plane tickets and the fastest he could get out to michigan. samy's admission earlier broke his heart and he hated she still felt that way, so he wanted to do everything he could to prove to her that she did matter to him and she wasn't a burden.

he found the tickets that would get him out by tomorrow morning and into michigan that afternoon. he glanced up at his teammates and coach's office—he'd get killed if he just left without warning for a few days. he probably wouldn't even play.

but will needed to see samy. he needed to prove to her that he's drop everything for her no matter what.

so he bought the tickets in a few quick taps and they were in his email a second later.

[abidolly]

I saw this painting by Boris Nemensky in the gallery, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was heartbreaking and beautiful, so I put this little story I had around it into words—and of course, made it about Sebastian and Ominis. Consider this drabble an AU from another life. But I gave it a semi- happy ending. What they desreved.

*

There was silence all around, only the distant barks of stray dogs echoing through the still air. They were always the first ones, either brave or hungry enough to dare out of the trenches when the whistling of bullets stopped.

It had stopped long ago. Sebastian was alone in his dirt hole—not the only body there, but the only one alive. He took a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of the man whom, just a few hours ago, he'd warmed with his own body heat so they could survive the night.

Now there was no more warmth to be found from anyone around.

It was quiet for too long. Maybe it was all over. Maybe he had gotten lucky again.

He heard a cough from another foxhole not too far from where he was lying.

So he wasn’t alone.

Was it an ally or an enemy, though? 

Sebastian remained as quiet as possible. If anyone saw him, he could pass for just another corpse. Playing dead to stay alive.

Time dragged on. Hours, maybe a day. No help came. But no enemy either. He wasn't hungry, but he craved lighting a cigarette more than anything. He didn't, though.

Before morning came, a rain began to fall. Sebastian didn't have to move; he just opened his mouth to catch some drops. He swore the water hissed in his dry throat as he swallowed.

He must have fallen asleep. Dogs were sniffing around. He had to move. He threw a rock in their direction. They snarled but left. His body wasn't worth the fight for them.

As dawn approached, the sky tinged with hues of grey and pale pink, Sebastian heard anoher faint cough from the nearby trench. Desperation gnawed at him. He summoned his courage and  whispered into the silence.

“Who's there?”

A moment of hesitation, then a reply came—hoarse and weary. “Ominis. Ominis Gaunt.”

Sebastian drew a sharp breath. An enemy name. “Are you hurt?” 

“Depends on your perspective,” Ominis answered with a dry laugh. “I'm alive, for now.”

“Ally or enemy?” Sebastian pressed.

“Does it matter anymore? We're the only ones left, it seems.”

Sebastian pondered this. Ominis sounded young. In another life, they might have been friends, but in this one? Was Ominis the one who killed the men around him? Did Sebastian kill Ominis’ friends? Did it really matter anymore? Alone, they were meat for dogs.

After a long pause, he spoke. “I'm Sebastian Sallow,”

“I have some gin here,” said Ominis. “Not good stuff, but it keeps you warm.”

“I've got some cigarettes.”

Silence stretched between them screaming with unspoken fears.

“Truce?” Ominis dared.

“Truce,” Sebastian agreed.

Slowly, cautiously, Sebastian emerged from his trench, raising his hands slightly to show he meant no harm. Across the scarred earth, Ominis did the same. They approached each other, the distance closing step by step.

Up close, Sebastian saw that Ominis was as exhausted and battered as he felt—mud-caked uniforms, unshaven faces, eyes empty as if they were already dead.

Sebastian offered a cigarette.

Ominis accepted it with a faint smile. "Much appreciated." He pulled out a small flask and handed it to Sebastian. 

Sebastian took a swig and grimaced at the harsh burn. “Terrible,” he muttered.

Ominis sniffled. “Told you.”

They sat on the ground, backs against the remnants of a shattered wall. The silence between them was somehow comforting. Smoke curled into the damp morning air as they both took long drags.

[sorenwolfgang]

soren couldn't explain his true feelings on love to anything or to anyone. love was one of the most complicated things in the world. why did love mean leaving? cheating? ending up getting hurt? he pushed his feelings on love away after the first time. soren's first crush left him, moved state, and didn't get into contact with him again. she'd taken a piece of him too and it was still a piece that was missing from within. soren didn't know if he would ever find that piece again. would it always be missing? vivian's situation was different to his own. she was with somebody who had cheated. cheating was something that soren couldn't forgive from anyone. why wouldn't you just break up with somebody instead of making them feel second best to someone? insecurities came from cheating. people second guessing themselves. it was horrible. "you shouldn't go looking for red flags." people shouldn't have presented red flags. relationships were about working through things together and helping each other out. soren would make sure all the right people would be there for the pictures. everybody that could do the best tips and tricks would be there on the right day. soren trusted vivian's process and knew she would get much better shots than him. vivian explaining that his shots were probably blurry because of using his phone made sense to him. phones weren't really meant to capture something that quickly. "don't worry, i'll protect you from any flying skateboards while your under my watch." soren would give a warning to the people there to give them some space to work. nobody would be crowding vivian unless it was to catch a big action shot scene. vivian's cheeks turning pink when the bartender called them a couple made him grin. "yeah, i remember somebody saying that caramel was the right choice to make." caramel tasted good with everything or so he'd heard from a couple of his friends. soren wrapped an arm around vivian's back so he could lean towards the girl and lower his voice enough that the bartender wouldn't hear as she went through the list of caramel products the store had to offer them. "why'd they have so many choices?" soren didn't understand all the random drink names or what each drink size meant. "why can't ordering a drink be so simple?"

looking back, vivian could see how she might’ve brushed off a lot of red flags. maybe if she hadn’t trusted her ex so easily, she’d have seen her for who she really was. but when you’re with someone, you’re supposed to trust them, right? she didn’t want to get paranoid, always thinking people would cheat or lie. “i don’t think i’m the best at spotting red flags,” she admitted, giving a shrug, clearly wanting to let it go. “probably something i need to work on.” vivian mused, shrugging her shoulders. “but hey, action shots are gonna look amazing—I think i’m good with those,” she nodded, hoping she could match soren’s high expectations. “i’ll try my best, though. if there’s anyone specific who should be in them, make sure they’re around! i don’t want anyone feeling left out.” she gave him a smile, feeling that familiar urge to do a good job. people liked her work, sure, but lately, trusting herself had been… complicated. “your phone isn’t the best for those kinds of shots, that’s why they get blurry,” she added, laughing when he joked about keeping her supervised. “oh, i definitely need someone to watch out for me—I’d get flattened for sure,” she said, a playful glint in her eye. they made their way inside, and she scanned the menu. “i took the photos for this menu,” she whispered proudly, leaning close so only he could hear. she looked over at him, remembering, “you said you wanted caramel, right? should i—" before she could finish, the bartender called them a couple, and her cheeks went pink as soren played along. she quickly cleared her throat, grinning, “so… what’s the drink with the most caramel?”

[occult-roommates]

maybe i’m just too much of a pessimist for my own good but legit nowadays i can’t feel excited whenever a new thing is introduced to the game (be it a pack, a major update, whatever) cause my first reaction is wondering how EA is gonna mess it up, how much drama and discourse will result from it, and how everyone will be disappointed and complaining it’s not what they wanted or that it’s not like in ts2/ts3.

that or maybe im sliding into depression again.

[maliciousalice]

Hear me out (or don't... it's fine I'm just venting and mean) yeah um I don't believe Chakotay was saved in Prod*gy s2.

[taffywabbit]

someone showed me a Chirpy Chips-style cover of Rasputin earlier that was so slow and low-energy that it actually made me a little mad. so like any reasonable person in my situation, i dropped everything and spent an hour feverishly making this little thing to prove that that song COULD be arranged in a way that better fits the vibe of a Splatoon turf war. it turns out spite is a surprisingly efficient fuel for me, whoops

maybe i'll polish this up properly and cover the full song eventually? would be cool to find a way to get some actual Splatoon-style vocals in there too, but idk if that's really possible in openMPT, so for now i just kinda rolled with whatever misc instruments i had on hand lol

[annintheclouds]

"You could say that, we all see him as a younger brother, well, me and the guys for sure, the two newcomers see him as an older brother. So he feels like an older brother to some extent. And I'm sorry if my question confused you, it's just that I didn't think the academy was capable of such a thing, of course the academy wasn't against it when they saw Helly's skills and when they found out that we had newcomers, it was our choice, but it was still unexpected and I didn't think that your academy would go so far."

Poli thought for a while, because indeed, Jin and Helly themselves suggested he be with them, and then he finds out that in another universe the academy is capable of such a thing. He exhaled, trying to sort out his thoughts.

"I really don't know how many times you've heard this question, but probably more than I think. And I'm sorry about what you and the others have gone through, you know, with the backlash about the whole thing. I mean, it must have been hard for you. After all, our stories are little different, and I didn't expect that. Although, anything can happen when we talk about things like that, right?"

@daily-rcp-poli

You saw a police car that looked like you, but the eyes were purple, like a light amethyst. A car looked around a little until he noticed you, a car was a little surprised, but then calmed down.

"Hello, do you live here sir?" A car said this in Korean with a smile, but from his face you can tell that he knows who you are, at least your name and position for sure, he began to wait for your answer.

Poli felt his eyebrows raise at the sudden Korean. Was his appearance always given away the fact he was born in the country? He quickly checks himself out. Maybe..

The leader's lips pulled into a friendly grin.

Well, I do. I have been living here for some time. I'm apart of the Broomstown Rescue Team.

Poli's eyes give off interest about the man.

And you?

[rosalesbeausderholle]

At the end of the day, it just really sucks when you can't even enjoy a new release by your favorite artist because the greater internet has decided she's their acceptable outlet of misogyny and they have to comment or hate on her every move every single time.