#free from being scared every time I make a mistake or forget something

[vitiateoriginator]

Im so frustrated today. My datemate and I got approved for an apartment but we had to give it up!! All because I have my name on my family's apartment lease. I'd have to remove myself if I want to lease at the other apartment complex, because its owned by the same place my family is living in. And the office manager said its a problem because it looks like I'm renting 2 apartments on my own. My fam doesn't qualify for an apartment without me, even tho they're fine with paying the bills (they'd have to reapply to stay and miss making three times the rent by only $350)

I can still rent from a place that isn't run by the same company, and keep my name on their lease. So its not hopeless. I'm just upset we had to give up the opportunity that was literally right in front of us. We would have been out by the end of May ;-;

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

I LOVE YOUR FICS SOO MUCH

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

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

Not a little princess anymore

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Fluff,

Word count: 7,611

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yes, she was the best of company.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The boy nodded with a triumphant smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrugged, with a tender smile.

“I think I have a slight idea...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Donna stepped back sharply, frowning, her breathing ragged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She shook her head, horrified by your words.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

After that little argument, you both succumbed to exhaustion.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She snorted and then looked at you curiously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The teen shrugged, playing with her food.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ahhhh! Not again!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lucky you were born that far away so

We could both make fun of distance

Lucky that I love a foreign land for

The lucky fact of your existence…

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

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

Time to act.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Angela...” you sighed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don't make me say it...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, well, I mean, I...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nodded slowly.

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

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

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

The doll laughed again, approaching him menacingly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The sound of the elevator made you alert.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“(Y/N), I…”

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

“But, but (Y/N),” she protested.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Donna huffed in defeat and stood up from the couch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Donna…”

[mother-above]

The Golden Warrior | Chapter 3

Azriel x Reader

Summary: To you, love was a poison that slowly killed. It was something that could make the strongest of warriors and leaders weak and vulnerable. You had successfully evaded romance and relationships for a century until the day you realized it had been plaguing you from within.

Chapters: 3/?

Words: 4.5k

Warnings: suggestive, 18+, violence, and swearing

*masterlist*

a/n: thank you for reading! please lmk what you guys think! xx

Chapter 3

  The moment Night Court winnowed out, you and Thesan made a beeline to his office. You settled onto a seat and propped your feet onto his desk as he plopped onto the leather chair with a huff. Thesan took a moment to check on the wards before he spoke out loud.

  “Did you find out what they want? Rhysand was being such a hard-ass and gave nothing away. All we talked about were treaties and half the time-,” said Thesan as he poured himself a drink. “I was trying to get his interest away from the Golden Warrior.”

 You thought about telling Thesan about the library incident, but you quickly dismissed it. Despite the Night Court being sneaky bastards, you realized that they were a powerful ally you couldn’t afford to lose. If Thesan had heard about the other events, he would undoubtedly wage war. He and the other High Lords had spilled blood for less, so it was in your best opinion to keep your mouth shut.

“A few days after Amarantha was killed, they felt a powerful surge of magic coming from Dawn Court. We must have been so distracted when you came home, that the wards you put up vanished or relaxed. It doesn’t help that I’d been forgetting to wear my jewels and must’ve weakened my hold on my magic in that period of relaxation,” you told him. “When we re-did the wards on the Palace in preparation for the Night Court, we probably fixed the wards that have kept my power hidden.”

Thesan paled as his eyes grew distant in thought. “Shit,” he said. “Ever since you were young, I’ve always helped you dampen your power. I can’t believe I forgot about it—fuck, I’m so sorry Y/n.” Guilt and concern flowed through his body and before he could freak out about his mistake, you reached over and grasped his arm. His glow dimmed as he looked at your hand, “I’m so sorry, no one was ever supposed to feel your power.”

“Don’t forget that I’m a grown female and have successfully protected the Palace and our territory for almost fifty years. I think I’ve proved that I can hold my own,” you said. “Besides, I’m partially at fault because being half-High Fae makes it hard to control my powers.”

“I wished you never had to go through that,” whispered Thesan. You just shrugged at him and smiled. What’s done is done. There were things you never told Thesan, but he found out through the other Peregryns and his sparrows when he returned from Under the Mountain. Some Fae had used the absence of Thesan as an excuse to run rampant and do whatever evil they wanted. It was you who punished and executed whenever it was necessary.

Every single day he was underneath that mountain his first thought would be of you, wondering how you were faring without him, Callon, and the others. He glanced at the scars that ran parallel to your cheekbone, a reminder of those horrid claws that hurt you. When Thesan first heard the story of how the Bogge had slashed through your golden helmet, he shuddered. High Lords were usually the only faerie powerful enough to kill a Bogge but when you told him you managed to slay it, pride and concern filled him. He made sure you were a fierce warrior, but to kill a Bogge… the extent of your magic scared him. In a way, it was better that Amarantha had no idea of your existence. If she caught a whiff of your power and what you could do, there was a good chance everyone in Prythian and the Continent would be under her rule.

You removed the glamour from the necklace to reveal brightly glowing sapphires, the power thrumming and threatening to break free. “While we’re on the topic of controlling my magic—I think I need more jewels.”

Thesan swore as he took a piece of paper and wrote down instructions to Nuan, his best tinkerer, to make you a new necklace with more siphons. With a wave of his hand, the note vanished and appeared on top of Nuan’s worktable.

“It seems Nuan got the idea of storing my power in jewels from the Illyrians,” you continued. “Azriel told me they call them Siphons too; they use it a little differently, but they have similar functions.”

The High Lord of Dawn nodded, his thoughts filled with concern over you and your magic. You were the second-best healer in all of Prythian, ranked behind your cousin. The two of you possessed the power to heal, to stop healing, and to reverse it. While Thesan was a divine and all-powerful High Lord, what made you special was your ability to poison and plague. Thesan and your parents first discovered your dark abilities when you were about 10 years old. You liked to sneak around the palace and one day you overheard an adult insult your High Fae mother for marrying a Peregryn warrior and supposedly ‘staining the High Lord’s bloodline’. The fae started calling your father slurs and before you realized it, you lifted your tiny glowing hands towards the fae and wished a horrible death. You can still remember the screams as the fae’s insides started liquifying, blood coming out of every orifice. That was when Thesan and your parents realized how powerful and dangerous you were. There were evil beings out there who would love to mold a young and impressionable fae. Thesan refused to let his little cousin be taken advantage of, so he made sure you learned to control your powers and knew how to defend yourself.

***

Days passed and so far, there was no major news from Night Court or any of the others. Things were quiet and no shadows were spotted in the halls of the Palace. Nuan had made you a brand-new necklace with 5 large blue sapphires, the biggest stone was in the middle with the other slightly smaller sapphires flanking each side. Putting it on immediately helped the restless energy that thrummed through your body, you couldn’t wait for the day you no longer had to suppress your magic.

You’ve been having dreams that interrupt your sleep, some good and some bad. The nightmares varied, sometimes they were about the creatures or faeries you killed during Amarantha’s reign, your parent’s death, or Thesan dying Under the Mountain. They always felt realistic, so whenever you woke up, it would take a few minutes for you to gather yourself and realize that it was all a dream. The worst hyper-realistic dream you had was when you dreamt of the Bogge and how its claws kept slashing into your golden helmet until it finally reached your skin. You dreamt about fighting half-blind as blood had spilled into your eye. The pain was so real and visceral, that you woke up screaming and clutching the side of your face. Thesan and Callon heard the commotion and because all bed chambers were warded against winnowing, they sprinted to your room. Callon barged in brandishing a sword until he realized you weren’t in danger. He stayed to help calm you while Thesan went to the kitchen to make you molten chocolate.

You were doing some paperwork in your office when a large yawn split your jaw. Another yawn followed and you sagged into your leather chair. You almost wished it was one of your usual nightmares, but last night’s dream was different. You dreamt of a child that you’d never seen before. The room was so dark, it had to be a cellar of some sort, somewhere underground. The soft moonlight that seeped through a caged window was the only source of light. It was a little boy who couldn’t have been more than 8 years old, it was hard to tell because you couldn’t see his face. He was hunched in the corner holding his little hands to his chest. You could have sworn you saw wings behind him, but it was so dark you couldn’t be sure. That was all you remembered from the dream, but it was enough to horrify you. Who could do that to a child? From the looks of it, it seemed like he spent most of his time in that dark place.

You woke up with a start and immediately turned on the faelights, you prayed to the Mother that this was some awful fiction your traumatized brain made up. If this little boy was real, your heart shattered for him. You didn’t get a wink of sleep after that, you kept the faelights on and waited for dawn to arrive.

***

The mysteriousness of Dawn Court was something that consumed Azriel’s thoughts, he reasoned that he couldn’t shake off that feeling of that dark dominating magic. If he was being honest with himself, it was you who his mind kept coming back to. He wasn’t sure why he kept thinking of you, was it your beauty or that incredibly confusing personality of yours? All his interactions with you made his heart flutter either from the smile you’d send him or from the anxiety that shot up when you were confrontational.

Rhys kept him busy with missions and he was more than thankful to do something that kept his mind off you. Whenever he was home in Velaris, that was when things were getting confusing for Azriel. To Azriel, Morrigan was the epitome of female beauty, someone who was strong yet elegant. He has spent 500 years fighting by her side, being her friend, and loving her. He was sure Mor knew that he loved her and unfortunately for him, she never acknowledged it. Azriel wasn’t surprised, how could someone like Mor who was Night Court royalty ever love someone like him? A bastard Illyrian?

Last night, Mor wore a revealing backless dress, Azriel would normally look away to avoid looking at her smooth skin but this time, Azriel stared. He was looking at Mor’s exposed back but not in a sexual way, he was looking because he noticed the lack of muscle and how different you were from Mor. The shadowsinger observed that you favored backless dresses and tops, there were the only things you wore during the Night Court’s stay at Dawn. It was hard not to glance at your body, you were athletic, strong, and incredibly feminine. You were so beautiful even Rhysand had taken his time to appreciate your powerful figure. When he first saw the sun-kissed skin and the dips near your shoulder blades and spine, Azriel felt his heart skip a beat. For a split second, he imagined what it would look like to see you arch and writhe beneath him. He remembered how his eyes widened and his heartbeat skyrocketed, he usually never thought of females he just met in such a lustful manner—or at least not immediately.

Azriel was shocked, he had never ever compared anyone to Mor. Feeling strange and annoyed that you were consuming most of his thoughts, Azriel drank multiple cups of wine and even let Mor convince him to join the rest of the Inner Circle for a night out at Rita’s. While his friends were dancing, Azriel sat by himself in their private booth, the music and drinks did little to distract him. His shadows swarmed around as he thought of how perplexing you were, how your sweet twinkling eyes could instantly turn cold and unnerving. He thought about sending his shadows to spy on you, but he stopped himself, you had the incredible talent of catching him when he was trying to be discreet. If you caught him one more time, he had no doubt you’d come for him in a violent rage.

He watched Mor and Cassian dance together; the Illyrian took Mor’s hands and spun her around as she threw her head back and laughed. It was a sound that Azriel loved to hear. The memory of Azriel holding you as he flew up in the sky flashed in his mind. You were happy and relaxed, your laughs sounding like the chime of bells. Shaking his head, the shadowsinger lifted the glass cup to his lips and took a long drink. Amber liquid burned down his throat and he sighed as he let the shadows entirely consume him.

***

You were eating breakfast with Thesan in one of the courtyards when one of your spies briskly walked toward you. Kerina was half Fae and half water wraith; she was one of your best and had a stern demeanor to her. Kerina bowed to Thesan before handing you her report papers, before you could thank her, she turned to address both you and Thesan.

“I have confirmation that Summer Court had sent 3 blood rubies to the Night Court. My sources are saying that they were addressed to High Lord Rhysand, Feyre Cursebreaker, and Amren.”

Thesan’s eyebrows raised but your jaw fully dropped.

“High Lord Tarquin sent out blood rubies? As in the death sentence rubies?” you exclaimed, wanting Kerina to confirm.

She nodded, “Correct. The water wraiths are telling me that two females had stolen something in one of their ocean vaults. If you need anything else, you know where to find me, my lady.”

Kerina departed and you were finally able to show your true shock to Thesan. You threw your hands in the air and the High Lord laughed.

“I can’t believe the sweet and handsome Tarquin sent Night Court those rubies. Whatever they stole… it must be so precious and important for Tarquin to declare them mortal enemies.”

Thesan looked at you with a sly smile.

“What?”

“I think you’re forgetting that Tarquin is still a High Lord, he may be young and a little naive but he’s the newest and youngest, he has to establish his dominance,” explained Thesan. “Besides, not everyone has had the pleasure to bed and be in Tarquin’s good graces.”

Last month, you had to personally deliver some documents and reestablish court alliances with Summer for Thesan. Since you had to hide your wings and suppress your magic, you became extremely restless. You wore the necklace, but it only helped for a few hours. Tarquin was a charming flirt, and it took him two days to convince you to sleep with him. The High Lord of Summer was attractive, and his personality was just as lovely, the only reason why you were hesitant was that you thought it wouldn’t be appropriate since you were Thesan’s 2nd. You quickly discovered that Tarquin did not mind at all.

You remember the energy in your body made everything feel like static, and the day your resolve faded, you returned Tarquin’s flirtatious advances. You kissed him and then you were suddenly sprawled on his expansive war table with the High Lord of Summer between your thighs. Tarquin took you on the table, his desk, and on the wall, right next to a large map of Prythian. Activities were moved to his bed chambers and that was where you rode him till—

“Ahem,” said Thesan as he cleared his throat. “Can you stop? I can scent you right now, it’s disgusting.”

Your eyes snap up at him, surprised that you had zoned out. Thesan was smirking and you threw a piece of a croissant at him. You wished you never indulged in what happened between you and Tarquin. Scowling, you shifted in your seat and gulped down some juice.

“He’s a good male, I wouldn’t be opposed if this was something you want to pursue in the future,” said Thesan. “I want you to be happy.”

Scoffing, you rolled your eyes for the second time that day. “You know how I feel about relationships. No, thank you. Besides, we agreed that it was a one-time thing that didn’t mean anything. We’re friends and will stay friends.”

Thesan shrugged. “One day you’ll take back everything you say about relationships. You’ll meet someone who is going to knock you off your feet, maybe one day you’ll be cauldron blessed and find your mate.”

You didn’t even answer with words, you just grunted in annoyance. You were never going to change your stance against relationships and romance. Your biggest secret, something Thesan doesn’t even know is you hoped you would never meet your mate. It would save you all the pain and effort of rejecting them.

Later that day you were sitting in your office with Kerina’s report spread out in front of you. Azriel hinted that there was something big happening in Prythian, so you had the spies do some digging and report anything strange happening in Prythian and surrounding countries. So far, there have been only menial land disputes and some horrible management of the dark creatures in the borderlands between Spring Court and the Wall. Looking through the papers again, you confirm nothing suspicious besides Summer Court sending the blood rubies.

Your thoughts drifted to Azriel the shadowsinger, it had been weeks since you last saw him, and you had yet to form an opinion on Azriel. Was he the most handsome male you’ve ever met? Yes. Was he a sneaky bastard who spied on your Court? Yes. To give him some credit, he told you some form of the truth when you caught him trying to sneak into the library but that was only because you threatened to end the alliance with Rhysand. Despite his spying, the male you talked with during sunrise was different. Maybe you saw a glimpse of the real Azriel, the personality he has when he’s at home and not working. As you sent in new orders to Kerina and the others, you couldn’t help but think of those cold and calculating hazel eyes.

***

A couple of months passed, and the sense of impending doom grew stronger every day. Reports of dark creatures roaming the border between Dawn and the Middle came in at a steady rate, there were enough threats that you had to go under your guise as the Golden Warrior to slay these creatures. You were a great warrior without your wings, but you were lethal when your feathers were out. You had to be careful not to use your powers because if Night Court was keeping tabs on your power signature, the others were too. The heavy presence of these creatures only confirmed your suspicions that something big was coming. Even though Callon was the Captain of the Peregeryns, you were still ranked above him, so you had them do extra training along with military exercises with the foot soldiers. Callon may be your cousin’s lover and he saw you as his little sister, but he was also extremely loyal to the Court and its hierarchy. If you told him to do something, he always obeyed without a question.

 One afternoon, you were going over some paperwork when you heard a bird chirping on the balcony. Looking up, Thesan’s sparrow was hopping on the banister and whistling as if it was speaking to you. Lifting your hand, the sparrow flew and perched on your finger as it watched you with intelligent eyes. The High Lord of Dawn was the only one who could communicate with the birds, but you knew this was Thesan’s way of summoning you.

You stroked its feathered head, “Tell him I’m on my way.”

It chirped back happily and took flight. You straightened out the papers on your desk before waving a hand to turn off the faelights. Darkness engulfs the room, and you gasp, the memories of your dream last night flooding back to you. It was the second time you dreamt about that dark cellar and the little boy who sat in it. This time you heard the crying and sniffles before you could even spot his dark form sitting in the corner. The dream was strange, just like the previous one, you couldn’t move and only saw what the dream wanted you to see. It seemed like you were sitting in that cellar for hours, it was only when the boy lay down when you saw the bandages. The boy was still faceless but under the dim moonlight, you saw his little hands wrapped in cotton, blood blooming under the white cloth. All you could do was stare in horror as the pain and exhaustion lulled him to sleep.

It took you all day to forget about the horrid dream and the sounds of his weeping. Ever since the first dream you convinced yourself it wasn’t real. This heavy weight fell on your shoulders the moment you woke up, even though it happened in your sleep, it all felt real. Deep down you knew that room and that child existed, you almost sent one of the spies to do some research, but you stopped yourself. You couldn’t waste any court resources, especially now that Rhysand had called for a High Lord meeting.

Taking a deep breath, you shook your head and swiftly made your way to Thesan’s office where he sat holding out a thick piece of paper to read. Callon was already sitting on one of the chairs and gave you a wave.

“Most of the High Lords agreed to meeting, so now the only problem is agreeing to where the courts will meet,” you said summarizing the letter.

He nodded before resting his hand under his jaw and sighed. He was still so tired of all the hell he experienced with Amarantha, all the news of unrest spreading across Prythian and Hybern gave him a constant underlying headache.  

“What if we offered to host the meeting? Here, in the Palace.”

He scrunched his face in annoyance because he already knew it was the best option. “Why does it have to be me?” grunted Thesan.

Callon made a face, but he didn’t interrupt, he wanted to give you a chance to assert your authority even though he disagreed with your idea.

“Because we’re closest to the middle and there is no way High Lord Kallias is going to offer to host,” you said handing the letter back to him. “Rhysand would have already offered but most of the courts don’t like him and all the other High Lords except for Tarquin seem like jackasses that won’t agree to host.”

Thesan frowned, “When did I become the friendliest High Lord?”

You snorted. “I wouldn’t say most friendly…maybe most tolerable? You’re the only High Lord in existence who has stayed mostly neutral in past battles and disputes. It makes sense for us to be the hosts, there's less of a chance these suspicious High Lords are going to think we’re going to double-cross anyone.”

Feeling the need to raise his concerns, Callon politely cleared his throat. “I don’t know—the security concerns… there could be fights that could level this Palace.”

“We have special wards to avoid magic and ensure fairness whenever all the High Lords come to gather but Callon’s right. I’m sure someone is going to find a way to break through the shields and cause all kinds of trouble,” said Thesan.

You glanced at the gleaming siphons around your neck and then at the two males. “This meeting needs to happen, and Rhysand knows it too, his letters feel so desperate. If a fight whether physical or magical breaks out, I’ll neutralize it,” you said gingerly touching the sapphires. “I’ll unleash my power if I have to.”

  Thesan’s frown deepened. “No—I don’t know, it’s too dangerous.” His rich brown eyes clouded with that overbearing concern.

Your jaw clenched as you stared at your cousin. “You promised me that I would get to decide when I would reveal my powers and the Golden Warrior. Now it seems like the perfect time with a potential conflict coming and someone’s bound to find out. If Night Court noticed, I’m sure the others did too.”

 Thesan looked at you coolly not wanting to lose his temper. You were right, it was only a matter of time before someone found out what you were. He was afraid of the repercussions you would get when people find out that you and the Golden Warrior were the same person. Thesan’s enemies were your enemies and with the added revelation of the Warrior, he was sure that list would double. He wasn’t ready to share how powerful you were, in fear of making that target on your back even bigger but Thesan knew it was no longer his call. He has kept you hidden long enough, it was time for you to spread your wings.

   “Okay,” he said quietly. “You get to call the shots with your powers from now on, you deserve it.”

 With a grin, you lunged at Thesan to hug him before you settled down to help him draft a letter to the High Lords.

***

 The preparations for the High Lords' arrival took all your time and energy and you slept through the night with no memory of the dreams you had. Despite dreamless nights, that dark cellar haunted your thoughts to the point you wanted to find that wretched place and rescue the child and burn it to the ground. Thesan had Callon and other Peregryns do over the security while you and other courtiers who were gifted with magic began enforcing more wards and shields on the Palace. This type of magic was so specific it took all your concentration as you learned from one of the older Fae how to properly enforce specific protective shields you’ve never used before.  When Thesan was available to help with the wards, he sent you off to visit the cities and ensure that Nuan’s compounds that defended against faebane were being produced efficiently.

 The Night Court was also doing their due diligence and making backup plans for their backup plans just in case it turned to shit in Dawn Court. Azriel, Cassian, and Rhysand peered down at a map of the Palace and came up with many escape plans. Cassian and Rhysand were anxious about the visit, but Azriel was a little more concerned about the strange female that had been plaguing his thoughts. Shadows pooled over his shoulders and blocked his brother’s view.

“Uh, Azriel… what’s going on?” asked Cassian. “I haven’t seen you this anxious about a meeting before.”

Azriel’s beautiful features stayed neutral, but his crossed arms and taut muscles betrayed him. He didn’t want to admit that he’d been anxious to see you again, it’s been a long time since anyone has taken his mind off the torture of loving Morrigan. He found the last few months to be different. He still blushed every time Mor gave him attention. Like the time she brushed past him and squeezed his arm or when she propped her feet onto his thighs when everyone was lounging around the living room drinking wine. Then there were the times Mor would pull away or avoid his gaze, these moments would usually sour his mood for the entire day, but nowadays everything stung less.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Deadly Proposal: Part Three

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: angst, mentions of drug use, drug angst

Summary: Dean agreed to get your sister from jail but her presence makes it tense for everyone, especially you. She is a ticking time bomb that's waiting to go off.

Deadly Proposal Masterlist

Square Filled: free space (2021) for @spnquotebingo

Quote is: "Sometimes it's good to be scared. It means you still have something to lose." from Grey’s Anatomy

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Then

You’re sitting in the front of Amber’s 2004 Ford Escort wearing your softball uniform. The only reason why Amber is driving you is because Mom forced her. She was going to book club with her friend and didn’t have time to drive you. You’re shocked Amber didn’t ask for anything in return but when she pulls into a motel parking lot, you understand why she agreed to drive you.

“You’re supposed to be driving me to softball practice,” you sigh.

“Don’t worry about it.” There are two men standing by one of the rooms, one of them smoking something. “Stay in the car.”

She gets out of the car and approaches the two men. Disappointment floods your chest but you don’t say anything. The man who is smoking smirks when he sees you but you sink down into your seat to avoid his gaze. Amber takes the money dedicated to dinner and hands it to the man who isn’t smoking. In return, the man hands her something white in a small plastic baggie. Of course. Why else would she offer to drive you other than to get drugs?

As soon as the drugs are in her hands, she heads back to the car. The men don’t stop staring at you until she is too far away to notice.

“You used the money for dinner,” you say.

“Keep your mouth shut,” she snaps.

“I’m late to practice.”

She doesn’t say anything else and continues driving.

Now

You shouldn’t be here. You should just go to bed and forget doing this. You look down the hall toward your room but your legs don’t move. You’re standing outside Dean’s office debating on whether or not you should knock. No, you shouldn’t. You’re just going to bother him with your problems that he didn't sign up for.

You’re about to leave when the door opens. Dean stands there tall with an annoyed look on his face. You should leave. Just say never mind and go to bed.

“I can smell you. What do you want?”

He turns and heads back to his desk. You step into his office and nervously play with your hands. You don’t know how to start without seeming like a desperate girl.

“So, the reason why I was in that hotel where we met is because I was on my way to pick up my sister in Boston. Um, she’s in jail and she was granted bail. I’m her only hope of getting out. I’d like to get her if it’s okay with you.”

“Where will she stay?”

“Well, um, I figure since you have so much room here…”

“No, she’s not staying here.”

“Please, Dean? She’ll only be a week. One week to get herself on her feet. She’s my sister.”

Dean’s instinct is to say no but then he sees the desperation in your eyes. He wants to say no but when he opens his mouth to respond, something else comes out.

“Fine. I’ll go with you tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you.”

Dean looks down at his hands and sees aged spots darkening. You’re about to leave when he calls your name.

“Come here. I need a sip from you.”

This is why you’re here. You’re here to provide blood for him and nothing else. Still, you feel a little proud that he chose you out of every single human on this planet. You’re the one he wants. You walk over to Dean and allow him to pull you onto his lap. You put your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself. His green eyes darken at the thought of tasting your blood again but you mistake it for something else. Maybe he enjoys you being here more than you think. The more you allow him to feed from you, the more you feel compelled to always be around him.

What are you doing to me, Dean Winchester? Why can’t I stay away? What is it about you that makes me want more?

Dean grabs your hair gently and pulls so you’re forced to expose your neck to him. He peels back the bandage from the last time he bit you, the wounds have not fully healed yet. He’d heal you but then he’d open up a new can of worms that he knows you probably won’t want to be opened. He leans in just as his fangs slide out. You feel the cold shiver before you feel him pierce your skin. Dean doesn’t take much, maybe only a pint. Still, it feels euphoric to you. Your head feels fuzzy, your eyes stay closed, and your mouth parts open.

Dean pulls away from you and replaces the bandage across the wounds he opened. He holds you close and looks down at his hands which are free of the darkened age spots. He licks his lips so there isn’t any more blood before standing up with you in his arms. He takes you to bed and lets you rest for the rest of the night.

The next morning, you’re getting ready to go to Amber’s prison when you notice the bandage on your neck. The only thing you remember is feeling like you were on Cloud 9 after Dean drank from you. You touch the bandage and wince from the soreness of your wounds, and you think about your arrangement with Dean. When you took it a few weeks ago, you were pissed at your sister for landing herself in jail. You wanted out. You wanted a better life for yourself. Dean was offering you all this stuff and it seemed so good at the time.

It still does but there is more at stake than you realize. Him drinking from you is doing something to you. Whether you two want it or not, you’re forming a blood bond. You were scared of Dean at first, but now not so much. You let your hair cover the side of your neck to hide the fact that Dean likes to bite you in the neck. Maybe you should ask him to bite you on the wrist so you can hide it better.

After getting ready, you head down to the kitchen where Dean is. The chef has already made you a meal which is sitting on the kitchen island next to Dean.

“Eat.”

“So bossy,” you grin and do as you’re told. “Listen, there’s something you should know about Amber. I should have told you this before but she’s a drug addict. The fact that she’s in jail means she hasn’t used in a while. She’ll be coming down from one of her highs, so she’ll be cranky. Don’t let her get to you.”

“Sweetheart, I am a vampire. What can she do to me?”

“Don’t say I didn't warn you,” you shrug

Boston is only an hour and a half from Dean’s mansion so it doesn’t take long until you’re at the prison.

“Hi, I’m here for Amber Bishop.” You look at Dean. “We don’t have the same last name. Believe it or not, she was married, and when she got divorced she hung onto his last name. She was in love with him but he wasn’t in love with her.”

“That’s sad.”

“Yeah,” you whisper.

The officer hands you some forms to sign before getting her. As soon as she sees you, she bursts into tears.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” You bring her into your arms and let her cry on your shoulder. “I promise to do better. I just slipped up.”

“I know.”

Dean’s face remains stoic as you two bring her to the car. You can’t help but feel ashamed of your sister’s state. You place her in the back seat and she immediately passes out from exhaustion. Dean is silent for the next thirty minutes as soft music flows through the speakers.

“One week, Y/N. She’s gone after that.”

“Okay. One week.”

Dean arrives at home and immediately leaves you to take care of your sister alone. You let her use your body as support as you take her to one of the empty bedrooms next to yours. She is in tears the second she lays on the bed. You tug off her shoes and socks before moving up her body. You pull off her shirt and give her a sleep shirt to use for now.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry,” she cries.

“I know you are.” You smooth down her hair. “Just get some sleep, okay?”

You can’t help but think about the first time you had to care for her after she took drugs.

You snuck downstairs to get some water after waking with a dry throat. You took a water bottle from the fridge when the front door opened. Amber came stumbling in with red eyes and roughed clothing.

“Amber?” you whispered.

“Y/N, you gotta help me.”

She stumbled over to you and fell into your arms. The water bottle dropped from your hand, and you’re thankful the cap was on. Your parents were sleeping upstairs and you did not want to wake them. 

“Come on, let’s go upstairs.” You tried to be as quiet as you could as you snuck your sister upstairs to her room. She crashed onto her bed with tears streaming down her face. “Did you take drugs?”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I promise not to do this again. I’m sorry.”

You leave Amber alone in her room and go down to the kitchen where food is waiting for you. You pick up your fork to eat but you’re suddenly not so hungry. You set your fork down and move the plate away from you.

“So, what’s her deal?” Dean asks when he walks into the kitchen.

“She ran with the wrong crowd in high school. Even before that. She didn’t start getting into drugs until she was a senior. I remember when I was twelve, I had softball practice that she was supposed to drive me to but she stopped to meet two men. She used the dinner money to buy drugs. Even before that, I remember her coming home after using drugs for the first time. She keeps promising never to do it again and she keeps breaking that promise.” You look down at your lap. “Sometimes, I’m scared I’ll come home and see her dead on the ground or something.”

“So?”

You look at Dean like he grew three heads.

“Sometimes it's good to be scared. It means you still have something to lose. I don’t want to lose her, but I don’t know how much more disappointment I can take.”

“Then why do you help her?”

“You sound like my parents,” you scoff. “She’s my sister, Dean.”

“Let me tell you something. Just because she’s blood doesn’t make her family. You should cut her loose before she brings you down.”

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”

Dean’s eyes darken with something mysterious and dangerous.

“Story time is over. Eat.”

Dean leaves the kitchen immediately, and you grab the fork again. You’re not sure what’s going to happen with your sister but you have a feeling it’s not going to be good.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[kradogsrats]

Here’s another question, what are your thoughts on Ezran? Since the fandom and I think he comes across as the least developed character of the main cast and no matter how hard he tries, it seems like he constantly has to learn that word won’t be enough to fully persuade an opposing side

I mean... Ezran's twelve. He decides what kind of king he wants to be when he's ten. When I was ten, I was reading a lot about historical atrocities because I couldn't quite wrap my head around the idea that people weren't all inherently good, deep down. Even if they were huge jerks on the surface, surely they'd do the right thing when it was really important, right? So I think he's sometimes just... thinking like a child. Because he literally is one.

We don't know what Harrow may have written to Ezran for after his death, but if we assume it's essentially the same as what he wrote to Callum (minus the cube stuff)—it's a lot of regret for Ezran to take on all at once. You can see in every word that Harrow wasn't proud of the king he had been, even though he started with the best intentions. He wanted to be a different king than his own father, to change Katolis and the world for the better, but he got caught up in the trap of history and its false narrative of strength. Ezran's obviously going to look to his father as his example for how to be king, and here's Harrow confessing that he wasn't the king he wanted to be, and wished he'd known the things he reveals in the letter earlier. So Ezran's takeaways are basically:

True strength is in vulnerability, forgiveness, and love

Reject the past and do not allow it to rule you

It's on you to make a brighter future

From before he's crowned, Ezran is struggling with how he will be king relative to Harrow. In The Royal Council, he literally worries that his choices are to reject and forget the father he loved, or doom himself to making all the same mistakes. As a result, he winds up going all-in on his interpretation of what Harrow wished he would have done.

Harrow wants him to create a brighter future, so not taking the throne at ten years old in the middle of an escalating inter-kingdom crisis would be "letting everyone down." As Soren later points out, this is kind of fucked up. ("If you spend all your time doing adult stuff now, you'll grow up weird, like your brother and Rayla," he says, while cheerfully engaging in the child-like attitude and behavior that his father denied him during his own childhood.)

True strength is vulnerability, so he never carries a weapon. Instead of accepting Harrow's sword to begin his rule, he has it forged into a new crown—something to honor both his father and his own commitment to strength not being about weapons and war.

Freedom is not letting the past define the future, so he holds a ceremony honoring Zubeia practically right next to the memorial to his own mother, who was killed by Zubeia's mate. He fully believes everyone wants the same thing that he does, deep down—a future of peace, free from old grudges and strife—and will join him in putting aside their grief and anger to achieve it.

He's essentially a product of having to mature too quickly in some areas, and having built his version of maturity on his father's example, while also holding on to a few developmentally-appropriate immature ways of seeing the world.

(In terms of development, I think they kind of shot themselves in the foot as far as making Ezran as relatable as Callum or Rayla, because he doesn't actually have anyone who's all that close to him. Soren, Corvus, and Opeli are much older than he is, and are really there for The King(tm), not scared or angry or grieving Ezran. He's literally never had a friend his own age. The only characters he could conceivably play off of in the deep and vulnerable way Callum and Rayla do with each other are Bait and Zym, neither of whom speak in a way the audience can comprehend. It's possible that they're finally setting up Aanya to fill that role with him, whether romantically or not. I definitely think she'll definitely be the one he can be conflicted and vulnerable about Runaan with in s7, since she's been in a very similar place. But yeah, because of all that he comes across as kind of removed from both the main cast and the audience.)

[phillippadgettwrites]

The First Time, Every Time: Miracle Man

Rated X / 1048 words / Tagging @today-in-fic / Posted on AO3

“The power of Christ compels you!” the old priest and the young priest shout in unison.

Streaks of holy water slash through the flesh on Regan’s legs, slicing her skin wide open. She floats above the bed, rigid and mottled, a shell of the child she was when the movie started. 

Mulder’s hand slides further down Scully’s belly, slipping just under the waist of her sweatpants, and gooseflesh lights up all over her arms. 

It’s actually really fucking cliche, a fact that they won’t be able to joke about for another six years. The scary movie, the dimmed lights, the flirtatious teasing about one or the other of them being too scared to keep watching. Mulder facetiously sat too close. Scully ironically pulled the blanket up to shield her eyes. He played pretend at comforting her. Somewhere along the line the joke stopped being a joke, and when he leaned forward and touched her jaw, she knew it wasn’t part of a bit. 

He’s wedged on his side between her body and the back of the couch, and he appears to have aspirations of sticking his hand down her pants. Though she realizes intellectually that they’ve already made a handful of mistakes and would be wise to cut their losses, the fact that she hasn’t been laid in months paired with the empty wine glass in front of her on the coffee table are seriously clouding her judgment. 

“S’that okay?” Mulder mumbles against her mouth as the tips of his fingers graze the skin beneath her belly button, and she doesn’t say no. She doesn’t say anything, just shifts her hips up in encouragement and lets her body do the talking. 

It truly was an innocent invitation. She owns the movie, so it’s not like she went out of her way to rent it or anything. Mulder just seemed out of sorts after their latest case, and she felt compelled to cheer him up. She typically finds moody men insufferable, but Mulder actually talks to her about the things that sour his mood, and often even takes her advice, which makes it exponentially less irritating. She’s truly flattered by how willing he is to be vulnerable with her, a trait that she initially thought to be compulsive but later realized is specific to her.  

She gasps and clamps her thighs down on his forearm when he sinks a finger into her, and he immediately stills. 

“Did I hurt you?” he asks, pulling away a little, and she shakes her head and grabs the back of his neck to tug him closer. 

Far from hurting her, he just woke up nerve endings that have been dormant since Bush was in office, but she’s not about to tell him that. She can’t remember the last time a man spent this much time kissing and touching her without trying to stick his dick in her. Just when she has that thought, Mulder gently grinds against her hip, and she feels herself quivering around his fingers at the idea of fucking him. But of course they can’t do that. They shouldn’t even be doing this. 

He’s very respectful. He asks before he takes off her shirt, her bra, her pants. He doesn’t ask if he can take off her panties, but that’s only because she shucks them off herself when he stands up to slip his jeans off and she sees his cock swing free. Legs spread, lined up, sharp sting and oh. Oh, oh, oh my. 

“Oh my god. You feel—” he starts, and she shuts him up with a kiss. 

They can’t talk about it, it’s too…real. They’re naked, and he’s inside her, and the screen on the TV has gone black because the movie is over, making it that much darker in her living room. Scully closes her eyes and tries to forget who she’s fucking, and why she shouldn’t be doing it, but she can’t. The way he smells, the way he feels, the exact pitch of his moans—it’s Mulder. Mulder, Mulder, Mulder, god—she’s going to come. Is he going to come?

They didn’t even use a condom. 

“Wait,” she says abruptly, pushing on his shoulders. 

He pulls out of her and hovers there, breathless, for a beat. 

“Is something wrong?”

“We didn’t—I don’t have a condom,” she says. 

She can feel every inch of skin on her body burning bright red with embarrassment. It’s real. They just did that. She just fucked her partner. Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

“Okay,” Mulder says reluctantly, sitting back. 

She senses that he might have more to say about his clean bill of health, or questions about whether she’s on birth control, but after a moment he starts to get dressed and she follows suit. 

“I hope I didn’t…pressure you in any way,” he says, a silhouette against the haze of the streetlights, and she’s exceedingly grateful for the relative darkness. 

“No, not at all,” she assures him. “But maybe…do you think we can just pretend this never happened?” she asks, wincing when her voice cracks a little. 

“Okay,” he says. “If that’s what you want.”

She turns on her desk lamp, which gives off enough light that he can find and put on his shoes and jacket, but not so much that he’ll be able to see how red her face is, or how swollen her lips. She walks him to the door and avoids eye contact as they say awkward goodbyes, but he’s clearly lingering and she doesn’t know why he won’t just go so she can begin the process of repressing this night deep into the far reaches of her memory. 

“Was it really that bad?” he finally asks, and her head snaps up to find a somewhat pained expression on his face. 

“Oh, no,” she stammers. “Not at all. It was fine—it was good, that’s not why…” 

A slow grin breaks out over his face as she struggles for words, and Scully huffs in irritation. 

“Glad to hear it. Night, Scully,” he says, giving her upper arm a squeeze. “See you Monday.”

“Goodnight, Mulder,” she grumbles, flashing him a tiny smile before she closes the door behind him. 

She’s not sure if they just ruined her favorite movie, or just made it her favorite for an entirely new reason.

[buckysdollsworld]

The Adventures of Bucky Barnes and Y/n Stark | Madrippoor | Bucky's Doll

Warnings: Kidnapping, trafficking, @buse

Pairings: Buckyxreader BuckyBarnesxy/nStark readerxtoxicex femreaderxkidnnapper

Content: 18+ MDNI, smut, pet names

You backed away he followed every movement each step you took back he moved closer. You still couldn't see his face clearly despite how close he was it was dark. You kept backing up until you hit the wall the man smirked he had you right where he wanted you and you were scared even if you tried hiding it. As the man got closer to your space you started to make out small features of his face the scars that lined his face, his bright purple eyes it all looked so familiar the closer he got and that's when it dawned on you.

"Rowan?" you asked but it seemed like you already knew the answer

"Hi princess, miss me?" he says with a smirk you knew all too well. Rowan James Pierce son of Alexander Pierce former head of Hydra also the worst mistake you've ever made. You see before you met Bucky you were with Rowan you had no clue about anything dealing with Hydra until one night Rowan came home late he didn't come alone either he had brought home none other than The Winter Soldier, your Bucky. That's when things went downhill something had changed in Rowan he got mean and cold towards you and when You asked what was going on he got so angry and violent The Winter Soldier however did nothing and said nothing you would never forget that night for the rest of your life the night you were locked away by the love of your life like some kind of safekeeping the night where you were experimented on like some lab rat. The scars carved in your skin served as a reminder of what Rowan Pierce had done to you every scratch every burn and the bruises that are no longer there that you still see like they are burned into your memory.

You looked at him trying to keep yourself together as if he couldn't notice the tears welling up in your eyes begging to be released.

 "What do you want from me, Rowan? Why are you here?" Your voice was shakey the fear was so obvious in your voice.

"Isn't it obvious? I want my best girl back" His smile was menacing as he wanted to claim you like some prize.

"Those days are over I'm not your puppet anymore." you bite out trying to hold back the tears that begged to be set free from your eyes.

He grins at you enjoying every moment of this "Don't be so sure of that darling because guess who just made a deal with Selby" Your expression turns to straight fear not caring if it shows anymore with that a tear slips free. Rowan brings up a hand and wipes the tear from your cheek

"Don't look so sad come on give me a smile" You bite your tongue trying to hold back all the cries and screams you want to make right now. Your heart sank at the thought of being his again you finally break your silence

"What do you want from me?" You repeated hoping to receive a direct answer this time.

"We're going home you get to go back to that lovely little cell for a few days and you're going to be a good little girl for me or else things you won't like what happens to you," He says grabbing your chin making you look up at him he wanted you to understand if you tried anything there would be consequences. You nod you are too scared to defy him in this moment his grip on your chin and instead, he wraps an arm around your waist keeping you close to him to ensure you wouldn't try making a run for it as he led you out of the club in Madrippoor.

[1heavy-heart]

𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌, 𝗆𝖺𝗒𝖻𝖾? - 𝖯𝖾𝖽𝗋𝗂 𝖦𝗈𝗇𝗓𝖺𝗅𝖾𝗓 ✨

I'm sorry for any spelling mistakes, English is not my native language, if you find any mistakes let me know :)

..............................................................................................................................

pov: y/n and pedri are friends, but the two wanted to be something more

pedri pov

A few years ago I didn't imagine that my best friend was going to be a girl, but that's what happened. Me and y/n are best friends, it all started when we bumped into each other in a supermarket that is close to my house, at first she didn't seem to know that I was famous but then she admitted that she had seen me in some videos on tiktok. We chatted for a while while picking up items to buy, before leaving we exchanged cell phone numbers and from then on it was daily conversations.

What I liked most about her from the beginning is her way of being, it was light and she laughed at silly things, which made me feel free to make stupid jokes because I knew she would laugh. We build a very strong friendship, we run to each other when it's hard to face something, or when we just need a lap, anyway, she's light when everything seems dark in my life.

There's something that worries me lately but I can't tell you, because it has to do with her. I feel that I'm liking her beyond friendship and I'm afraid of ending everything we already have, I decide to ask Gavi for advice:

- Hey man, I need your help. I say and he looks at me with a raised eyebrow.

- Tell me, Pedro.

- It's y/n, I feel like I'm liking her more than I should. - I say and scratch the back of my head.

- Are you saying that you like her in the sense of kissing, dating?

- Yeah, when she tells me about some guy she's talking to, my blood boils. - snort.

Gavi laughs and says: - I think you're in love with your best friend, what a cliché. But how can I help with that?

- Give me some advice, should I tell her or try to forget about it?

- Look, you're with her right now, it won't take long for her to suspect, and you know it's not easy to forget someone like that, so if I were you, I'd tell you.

- I'm afraid of screwing up

- man, you're not going to ruin everything, you two get along, you have so much in common, I know this won't end a friendship as strong as yours. - he smiled.

After leaving the ct, I go home thinking about what Gavi told me, I think that telling is the best option, me and y/n are always together in our spare time, so I won't be able to hide it for a long time. Even though I was scared, I decided to tell her and it would be today, I sent her a message:

                                                                 *message on*

- Hi dear friend, how are you? *

-Hi Pedrito, everything yes and with you?

-Also, I wanted to know if you're busy tonight?

-No, I'm free, why?

-Do you want to come over here and see Barbie? :)

-Oops, you know that when it's Barbie I always want it, can I go at 20?

-Yes, of course, I'll wait for you at 20 :)

                                                                 *message off*

I tried to stay confident as I waited for y/n. I wanted everything to go well and our friendship to remain the same, but my heart asked her to match what I felt. When it's 8:15 pm I hear the bell and I know it's her, typical delay of at least 15 minutes. I open the door and my heart races when I see her.

- hi Pedrito - she hugs me and passes towards the sofa.

- Hi y/n, I knew I was going to be a few minutes late and I ordered a pizza for 8:30 pm

- You know me well, right - she laughs and so do I.

- Do you want me to put the film on now?

- Maybe, come here so I can use you as a pillow. - she says and I sit next to her.

Soon the pizza arrived and we went to eat in the kitchen, we sat across from each other and I decided that it was going to be now that I would tell her what I was feeling

- Y/n, I need to tell you something, but I don't know if you'll like it. - I say and I can't stop tapping my foot repeatedly.

- What happened, Pedri? You know I'm not one to judge.

- We've been best friends for a few years and I've never felt that, but now every time I'm with you my heart races and when you talk about another guy I feel like I'm going to explode with jealousy, maybe you don't feel the same for me, but I decided to be honest with you, I just don't want to ruin our friendship or leave a boring atmosphere between us…- I say and see her get up from her chair, damn it! I'll screw with everything.

She stops beside me and looks at me with a smile on her face.

- Get up Pedrito, I want you to look at me. - I stand up and she lifts my chin so I look into her eyes.

- That's the best thing you could tell me, you know? - she smiles at me and I get silly. - It's been a while since I felt like you and I could be more than friends, but I thought you wouldn't want to, after all, look how many beautiful girls message you on instagram. - She laughs and so do I.

"Are you serious, y/n?

- Yes, Pedrito, I like you much more than you can imagine. She blushes and I feel my face heat up too.

I approach her and allow myself to look at her lips as if asking permission to kiss her, she comes closer too until finally I seal our lips in a calm kiss, which both she and I seemed to have been waiting for ages.

[therapy-ghost]

IM BACK! It’s me! The one who requested Freddy freeman x autistic reader!! :DDD

I meant to keep requesting from you but I forgot DD:

Anyway! I was hoping for some genya (demon slayer) x autistic reader! Reader is a love breathing user, and also obanais younger sibling 👀(made this up on the spot so I wouldn’t forget to request🤠) If you find yourself no longer being comfortable writing for an autistic reader, feel free to ignore this! (I 100% understand if you’re no longer comfortable, please let me reassure you)

Thank you for reading, have a lovely day babagurl! xx👁️🫦👁️

HEY SORRY THIS HAS TAKEN SO LONG!!!! And welcome back! I loved writing the Freddy Freeman one shot!

Warning/notes: this is the same sort of autism spectrum from the last bit, might be wrongly depicted(please tell me what I can work on for it is so) slight spoilers, and swearing

Genya with an autistic s/o is one thing: he’s understanding, he’s conversive, and he makes sure that he knows what’s going on so he doesn’t mistake it as one thing…..

But when he finds out that his s/o is related to the snake pillar… He is definitely scared to be around you when Iguro is around.

dont get me wrong, he loves you with all his fucking heart; he’s just worried that iguro does to and that it will end all bad for him.

Mitsuri helps for convincing Iguro to trust him since you are her tsugoku, plus they have a great relationship.

Takes a bit for Iguro to trust Genya since at first it was only you telling him to trust genya and since he is a good big brother(or the best he can be) he wanted an outside source to back you up.

But now for the true headcanons :]

He is super protective over you; not in a baby way but in a way that he makes sure that you dont get uncomfortable with anything

If you show him something you love, then he will makes you all his attention is on that one thing(plus you) cause he knows how much it means to you.

will fist fight Iguro to keep your love.

And Sanemi; he will beat the shit out of him for you.

he loves spending time with you, even if you are hyper fixated on something, its calming to him is a strange way, and he loves it.

If you are friends with the main four, you will most likely drag him into the group a bit more.

He fights for you, every time he is fighting a demon or simply training, he is always thinking off you; your reactions to the smallest of things, how you actually enjoy being around him, and how he wants to spend the rest of his life with you.

If you stand up to Sanemi for him or in his name, he will be a little blushing mess like “THATS MY S/O!!! THATS MY LOVE!!!!”

He doesnt see you any different then the next person; but at the same time you are the angle that saved him.

he gives you all his love and devotion it it means that he doesnt have to be alone again.

Thanks for the request again!!! I hope you have a good day/night bbg!!!!

[thetinyadventurer]

“If you’re going to write…You had to be willing to do the equivalent of walking down the street naked.”— Neil Gaiman.

I’ve had this quote from Neil Gaiman stuck in my head all night and decided to add my two cents.

In this quote he is talking about being vulnerable as a writer. That, in order to write successfully, you have to be vulnerable and willing to put yourself out there. This is something that I’ve struggled with for a long time. I’m an almost 30 year old woman with ADHD, PTSD, Anxiety and Depression. I’m a person who is trying to find herself and heal at an age where most people already seem to have their life figured out. I’ve struggled with being authentic since I was a child— Always trying to be what I thought people wanted but never what I, myself, wanted. This was the only way I could survive growing up in a strict religious household with emotionally neglectful parents. It was the only way I could go a school full of peers who didn’t understand or accept me and, most of the time, went out of their way to bully me because of it. Masking was my way of fitting in inside a world that refused to understand or accept me.

I continued this habit into my writing as I got older; I wrote things that I thought people wanted to read but my heart was never in it. Reading my writing was like eating sugar-free ice cream; It was sweet on the surface but ultimately it was like eating air. There was no substance to it, no heart. It wasn’t until I got into college and met my now-husband that I began to change. I began to heal and I started to face the things that I was struggling with— So, I wrote. I wrote out my feelings to understand them and eventually, I started putting them into stories. Suddenly, people were enjoying the things I wrote in my Creative Writing Classes and giving me genuine compliments.

Out of seemingly nowhere, I got the approval I’d been looking for and I got it by being myself.

Going back to Neil Gaiman’s quote… I’m not gonna lie this quote got the wheels turning in my head. I started thinking; Why do I write? What do I want to achieve? Finally, I have an answer; I want to write because I love it! I love making up worlds and people in my head and seeing the journeys that they go on! More-so, I realized that I want to reach people. When I was a kid, reading was my escape. It saved me from a turbulent household and rotten school-life. The characters in those stories made me feel like I wasn’t alone; That there were people out there who understood how I felt and what I was going through. One day, I wanted to do the same for someone else. Like I said, I’m a woman with ADHD, PTSD, Anxiety and Depression and those disorders make life hell, most of the time. I’m not going to say that these disorders or the experiences that caused them were good for me. HELL NO! They gave me lifelong trauma that tries to kick my ass every single day.

However, maybe I can use them? Maybe by putting my demons onto paper I can finally heal and understand myself… And maybe, just maybe, I can help someone else through my stories the way I was helped.

I’ll admit that I have a lot to learn about writing and storytelling. I’m a huge novice! But I still want to try even if I make mistakes. Because in the end it’ll be worth it.

Anyway, thank you, Neil Gaiman for your inspiring words and for helping to put things into perspective. I doubt you’ll see this but I still wanted to say “thank you”, anyway.

And to my fellow novice-writers out there; We’ve got this! Please don’t forget that you are unique. Your words and your experiences matter! Don’t be scared to write them down because they might help someone! Be sure to drink lots of water and take breaks every once in a while, lord knows we need it!

Anyway, sorry for the long post! Love you guys!

-The Tiny Adventurer

[babsaros]

I think I'm trans and I'm so scared I love and support but I don't want to be trans, is that bad?

I know a lot of my family will hate

me.

I feel like a guy but how did I not know sooner,Idk wut to do, I'm so confused.

Like I've never felt wrong in till this year, idk if it's because maybe I was in Denial, but I feel I wad still know to some extent.

And wut if I'm just going crazy and lieing to my self I don't have a reason to but still.

You probably can answer, because your not me but if you think you can help pleas do.

Thx for your time :>

the very first thing i want to tell you is that i love you. i need you to know that you are loved. i need you to know that no matter who you are, you are loveable.

the second thing i need you to know is that you are strong and brave, even when you feel weak and scared. those feelings are so so so heavy, when you're carrying them around, all you can feel is the weight, and you forget how strong you are for being able to carry it at all. every breath you take is indescribably brave. every beat of your heart is worth it.

the third thing you need to know is that anyone that tries to put you down is scared of you. scared of how brave and strong you are, scared of your happiness, scared of your independence, scared that they won't be able to control you. you scare them. and that is the most wonderful thing in the world.

and it's okay to be scared!!! you are never ever alone in being scared. that's the very nice thing about community, especially the trans community. we've all been there. we know the hardships, we know the struggles. we're all in this together, 1000%. so being scared is okay.

i don't know you, what your living situation is like or how old you are and what your support network looks like. if you want to come off anon at all or shoot me a dm, please feel free to anytime. i can't promise i'll always have the spoons to respond, but you're not alone.

for me personally, i grew up in a pretty conservative household. i just was not exposed to a lot before i got my own computer (and more specifically got on tumblr). transgender was Not a word i had ever heard until i was in my teens probably. and it might never have occurred to me on my own that i could be trans. i know i didn't have a lot of the same experience my cis peers were having, i was always a "tomboy", there were parts of my biology i was deeply uncomfortable with but chalked up to puberty being a bitch. i mean, everyone tells you its awkward but that you'll get used to it eventually, right? :')

(here's a secret: you never have to get used to anything you're not comfortable with. if it sucks, hit da bricks!)

my journey started by identifying with the asexual label, it helped me feel a lot more in control of my own body? if that makes sense? like i had a word that explained (somewhat, at least as far i was aware at the time) my discomfort and boundaries, and it was the first time i realized i didn't have to be "normal". from there i realized i was gay, but it still took me a while to realize i wasn't cis, and then still a while after that to realize i wanted to go on HRT.

figuring out gender stuff is tricky! the good thing is its not a race. there's no way to lose! you can take your time, and experiment, explore your presentation and options! don't fall for the transphobic narrative that if you don't transition young enough you won't pass. that's just not true, and passing is more overrated than you might realize. having fun with is is honestly the most important thing.

dysphoria can be subtle, and it can manifest suddenly, even for things you were previously fine with. nobody has a totally static, unchanging mind. especially if you're young, your brain is still growing in there! even cis people get dysphoria sometimes.

it's probably not true that you're lying to yourself. that's another transphobic myth people like to push, that being trans is a mistake or a phase or something people do for attention. it's much more likely that this is something you've been learning more about yourself recently, and that's a really wonderful thing.

this community will celebrate your journey, no matter where it leads, whether you decide you're trans or not, and what you want to do about it. never let anyone scare you into thinking you're taking resources from someone who "deserves" it more. more demand and support = more resources and support for everyone.

i hope any of this is helpful to you, and i really hope if you do decide you want to talk more about this or look into it more, that you have the support to do so.

[goldenpinof]

thank you for sharing your experience!! it's so nice that he takes the effort to tweak the script a bit depending on where he is, despite some jokes not landing lmao but thank you for the effort dan. i do feel he thrives off the energy of the crowd so he loves it when the audience engages and reacts a lot (in parts that need that reaction). can't wait to see how it'll be different in berlin. also it's sweet that aside from meeting him a big part of why people go to wad is to see friends and the community and being in the same space enjoying the same thing and reacting with and to dan. and i think dan loves seeing that as well. i love living vicariously through you guys as someone who lives in a country that dan won't tour in :( but it's nice to read different experiences and how dan is such a sweetheart in meet and greets and how he really enjoys performing.

i'm so sorry you can't go :( it's a great experience!

i hope Dan understands what kind of people he gathered around himself 😂 we share some opinions and we're willing to listen to each other. yesterday that was such a pleasantly unexpected discovery. you know it's easier to discuss some things online than irl, like political and social systems, sexuality and etc, but we were discussing it after the show and it felt safe to do so. and these conversations will stay with some people for a long time. it's kinda beautiful, we're in the same boat and Dan and Phil are just slightly directing us by planting seeds of major topics in your heads. and then we're free to make research, share our experience and help one another understand something if needed. even when someone leaves the phandom they don't leave it empty-headed. you can obviously outgrow that kind of relationship and find something similar in real life, so you don't need some British white guys to guide your ways. but i bet they still remember what kind of messages those two were trying to convey to them and the world in general. i'm not saying that dnp's opinions and views are always 100% right. hell nah! but sometimes starting a conversation is more important than arguing your rightness. we can joke about it for as long as we want but they really raised us in a way. just like school and your neighbourhood is raising you as well, directly or indirectly.

i think Dan underestimates his power and influence. or likes to think that he's not as powerful as he actually is because then the damage is lesser. he's scared of being wrong and it prevents him from doing the right things immediately. Ukraine was a good example of it, because even if he waited he still fucked up with that tweet. so i get where the fear is coming from and each mistake bites his ass. he is more careful with it now but he still likes to think that he can't do anything. (i'm bringing up Ukraine because he brought it up yesterday. and i'm glad that he keeps doing it. and by doing it he contradicts himself because talking about this war is doing something. it's not over, missiles are falling on cities and killing people, Ukraine loses its towns, gets some towns back – it's happening every day. i just hope that at least 1 person goes home after Dan's show, opens google, updates themselves on the war and shares it within their circle. forgetting is a scary thing, it's like erasing history, only now we're erasing the present).

anyway, can't wait to compare it to Berlin.

[imashoe69420]

Those Eyes: Rise! Leo X OC

Chapter 9

The next few weeks go smoothly. Leo and I have hung out almost every day doing whatever we could. We decided on making Mondays and Thursdays movie nights since nothing else productive happens on those days. Every other day, activities vary from trying different pizza restaurants, basketball (which I still kick his ass at), him teaching me how to skate at the skatepark, and so many other things. We’ve also been doing this truth or dare—minus the truth—type thing where we dare each other to do something stupid or risky. If Leo turns his dare down, any food I desire is on him for the next day. If I turn a dare down, Leo gets 20 minutes to go through my room and ask me an unlimited amount of questions that I have to answer.

So far, I’ve only lost once while he’s lost about three (3) times. It’s not his fault, though. His dares are often things he would never do but I have no problem doing. Last week, he dared me to pretend to steal something from the store and act dumb when confronted by an employee. Unbeknownst to him, I do that literally all the time. But I actually steal something and I actually had stolen from that store that night. He pretended to be impressed, but I don’t think he liked that that much. I keep forgetting he’s a hero.

The following night, I dared him to go into an expensive clothing store and try on an outrageously expensive suit to then take a selfie in. To my surprise, he actually did it. Without thinking, I asked why he didn’t walk out with it on—like just take it. His face contorted into a half smile and said a quick “what?”. I just laughed it off once I realized my mistake.

So what if I’m a little bit of a kleptomaniac? It’s not like I’ve ever stolen anything super expensive. Well, besides that one white snake ring but it was staring me in my eye begging for me to take it. And it was only a couple hundred when I looked it up, so who cares?

Anyways, I also noticed that the Lieutenant still hasn’t said anything to me. Not an alert or meeting or anything. It worries me a little bit and maybe it’s a little less freeing than I thought. Whenever Leo isn’t around, I feel like I’m being watched. I have to turn my phone all the way up with my earbuds in to forget the icky feeling. For whatever reason, I feel The Foot has something big planned and it’s going to play out soon.

* * *

On this chilly night, Leo purposes me another dare. He points to the very top of a skyscraper with a sly smile on his face.

“I dare you to climb up there. To the very top. And then take a selfie when you’re all the way on top.”

I scoff. “Are you kidding me? I’ve never gone up that high. And what if I fall?”

“Relax, the great and powerful Leonardo will catch you.” He winks at me.

“More like the smug and arrogant Leonardo.” I whisper under my breath before returning to my normal speaking voice. “Alright, alright. I’ll do it.”

We rush over to the tall glass-covered building. I take in it’s size, which was much taller than I initially thought it was.

Why did I agree to this?

Leo notices my hesitance and lays a hand on my shoulder. “Now, it’s okay if you’re too scared to do it. That pink journal was looking pretty interesting if I do say so myself.”

I shoo his hand away and pull a pair of Shuko from my jacket pocket. “I’ll show you ‘too scared’.” I jump onto the building after adjusting the Shuko straps around my wrists and begin to climb. It’s easy for a minute or two (2), but the top seems to be getting farther and farther away from me. After several minutes, I make the stupidest choice possible and glance back down at the blue clad turtle. He’s so far away now; only a blue and green blur from my perspective.

The cars below look like big balls of light. My vision soon becomes distorted as I get the notorious falling sensation.

“What’re you waiting for?!” Leo yells up at me. “Keep going!”

I slowly turn back towards the top of the skyscraper and try resuming my climb, but my arms and legs can’t stop shaking. I’ve never been this high up before. My fear isn’t exactly being this high, but falling from a height like this. It reminds me of my dreams were I fall into the black void and wake up before I fall to my death. I don’t want Leo to go through my shit, but I feel frozen by fear and the decrease in temperature.

“Okay, you win!” I shout at him. “Help me down!”

He groans loudly. “C’mon, you’re almost there!”

“No, Leo, I’m serious! I wanna get down!”

“Lala, you got this!”

“Leo, help me down now!”

The turtle’s shoulders bounce up and down. He’s laughing? He thinks this shit is funny?

“Leo, if you don’t help me down now, I’m gonna jump!” I threaten.

His shoulders stop moving and he stares at me for a couple of seconds. “You wouldn’t.” He calls my bluff.

“You promised you’d catch me, right?”

From what I can tell, he nods his head up and down.

With a few deep breaths, I close my eyes and push myself backwards into the open air. You better catch me you idiot, I think, if I die, you’ll never hear the end of it from my ghost.

A familiar warping sound below and land in muscular arms. I open my eyes to see Leo staring down at me with a subtle smirk across his lips. “I knew you’d fall for me eventually.”

My heart quickens in pace at his pick-up, but I punch him in the chest and force myself out of his hold. “Whatever. Let’s just get this over with.”

Leo chortles as he opens another portal into my apartment. Like the genius he is, he forms the portal on the ceiling, causing us to fall onto the carpeted floor. He laughs awkwardly with a “whoops” and gets up to turn on the light.

“Now… which one should I pick?” The turtle says slowly as he scratches his chin. His eyes soon land on the drawers inside my bookshelf.

Oh, no: part two (2).

That’s where all my stolen stuff is. He’s gonna ask where I got something in here and I’m not sure if I’ll tell him the truth.

He opens the drawer and digs around for a bit. When his hand comes back up, he has the bracelet from the street vendor I helped a month or so ago. Thank god.

“What’s this?” Leo asks.

“A bracelet.”

“No shit. Where’s it from?” He jingles the charms.

“That street vendor that got robbed. He gave it to me as thanks.”

With a hum, he puts the bracelet back and closes the drawer. Leo turns his attention towards my books and then to the pink journal he was boasting about earlier.

My palms become sweaty as me pulls it out of its place. “Wait, maybe not that one. Please.”

The three-fingered mutant laughs at my pleads. “C’mon, it can’t be that bad.”

“Leo, it’s literally so embarrassing. Please don’t open it.”

Ignoring me, he opens the journal and leafs through the pages. He soon enough sees what I’m so embarrassed about as he stifles another laugh.

“Aw, c’mon, these are cute. You used to like ponies?”

“Well, yeah but they’re old and I haven’t touched it in years so it doesn’t even matter.” I say quickly, crossing my arms against my chest. “Can you put it back now?”

“Glitter-Foot… Sprinkles… Twilight—”

“Okay, okay, that’s enough. Pick something else.” Sure, it’s cliché to be embarrassed by your “pony phase”, but to have Leo know about it is a whole different ball game. He’ll never let me live it down.

The turtle snickers a bit before returning the journal to its original spot. “Relaaax, I thought the drawings were adorable. But now I know you’re cringe so let’s call it even.”

“I’m not cringe anymore. You’re still cringe.” I point my finger at him with a smirk of my own on my face.

It makes me feel somewhat better that he didn’t make fun of me as much as I thought he would.

“You’re still cringe.” He says quietly, mocking my tone. “How much longer?”

I check my phone. “Fifteen (15) minutes.”

“Ohhohoho yeah.”

Leo ventures around my room for about a minute and a half before looking at my klepto-drawer again. He glances at me, then the drawer, then me again.

“Did that street vendor really give you that bracelet?”

I nod. “Yeah, I mean, look at it. It’s expensive as fuck compared to the bracelets he was selling.”

“Hm… okay, then how much stuff in that drawer did you steal? I saw that thing you stole last week in there.”

Fuck. He knows.

“Uhm… I guess, like… most of it.” I end the sentence in more of a question form than a statement.

Like I’d feared, his expression becomes more serious. “Why do you even steal? You have a whole apartment by yourself. You gotta be loaded.”

If only you knew.

“I dunno, it can be fun… sometimes, I guess.”

Leo raises an eyebrow at me. “What’s fun about it?”

I check my phone again, trying to distract myself from the situation. “You have ten (10) minutes.”

“Lala, you shouldn’t steal things from people. What if it was you being stolen from?”

I roll my eyes and fall back into my bed. “Listen, mom, I don’t need your input on my habits. I steal because I steal, no rhyme or reason why.”

Leo leans over me, his hands on either side of my head. “Look, I’m not trying to be your mom but come on. You probably have thousands of dollars worth of stuff in there. Don’t you think you should stop?”

“No, not really.” I avoid his gaze, but he follows my movement.

“Well you should. It makes you un-fun. Especially when you asked me why I didn’t steal that suit.”

His words make me feel itchy. “Okay, fine. I won’t steal anymore. Back off.”

The bed bounces back in place after he sits up. “You better, or else I might have to treat you like a mediocre super villain.”

“You would never.”

His frustrated look softens and morphs into a grin. “Maybe.”

Leo continues to rip apart my room, leaving me to think about what he had said. Don’t get me wrong, I know what I do sucks for other people. But I don’t really care, which also sucks. And it also sucks that I can’t help it. Like I said before, I don’t usually steal big or expensive things. It’s almost always shit I never use: travel sized toothpaste, toys, parts to things I don’t have, fake or low quality jewelry, etcetera.

When I walk into my store of choice, I get instant anxiety mixed with excitement—sometimes arousal. Then when I find the random item, I make brief eye contact with it before walking past it as if I didn’t even acknowledge it. I pretend to look at other things and return to the isle and snatch it. If I’m not approached by any employees, I pick up something else cheap and pay for that (or I just snatch it as well). If I am approached, I cope well when I’m under pressure from people I don’t know. I just lie my ass off—maybe accuse them of racism—until they let me go.

Leaving the store is the best feeling of my life. All my anxiety melts away like a thousand pounds was lifted off my shoulders. Now I could put it in my drawer and leave it there for all eternity, never to be used or thought of again.

“What’s this?” Leo wakes me from my thoughts. He’s holding the white snake ring. When my eyes don’t meet his, he sighs. “Okay, maybe I was being too pushy. I don’t think you’re a bad person for stealing things and I don’t think you’re un-fun. I just think you’d be more fun if you didn’t do it.”

“I know. I just… I can’t help it. You’re right, I don’t need any of the stuff in that drawer and I don’t steal with intent. It just happens and it’s the worst feeling sometimes because I don’t even feel bad about it.” I try to hide my shaky voice, but Leo picks up on it.

He pulls me into a hug and lifts me into the air. “Aw, don’t be sad! I shouldn’t have brought it up again. Hey,” he drops me onto the bed and grabs the pink journal again, flipping it to a random page, “look, a pony! He’s got a top hat and everything. You could say he’s financially stable.”

I giggle at the stupid pun. “You don’t have to do that—”

“Or this guy!” He interrupts me, pointing at a badly drawn edgy pony. “He’s a badass; my mane man. My ride-or-die.” Leo frantically flips through a couple more pages and stops on a pony in armor. “Woahhoho, look. At. Him. ‘To be or not to be, that is the equestrian’.” He says in a terrible British accent.

“Okay, okay!” I laugh at his barrage of puns. “That’s enough. I’m not upset.”

Leo smiles at my reaction and places his hands on his hips. “Good. It’s hard coming up with horse puns.”

“You should try different types of jokes. You’re becoming a one-trick pony.” I quip.

“Ooh, my own tricks being used against me. Clever.” The blue clad turtle lightly teases me.

My cheeks flush at his comment. I lift my phone to my face. “Time’s up.”

He grumbles. “Ughh. I didn’t even get to the good stuff.”

“Oh well, sucks to suck.”

The turtle yawns obnoxiously. “I guess you’re about to kick me out to go to sleep, so I’ll get going.” Leo unsheathes his sword and readies himself to open a portal.

“Uh, actually,” I start, my mouth moving on its own. Don’t you fucking dare, Lala, I think. He stops his movements and turns to my direction. “You don’t, uh, have to leave. You can… stay over… only if you want.”

Leo’s amused face practically melts my heart. “You serious?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” I shrug.

“Like a hund-o?”

“Yes, Leo.”

“You’re sure you’re sure?”

My eyebrows furrow. “Stop before I change my mind.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” He says ironically. “So, where do I sleep?”

I suddenly break out in a nervous sweat. Don’t. You. Dare., I think, but my thoughts have no control over my lips. “Uhm, in my bed is… fine.”

Idiot!

Now Leo gets nervous. “Uh—I mean, only if you’re okay with it.”

“No, I totally am! I just…” exhale through my nose. “I don’t want you to go yet. I like having you around.”

Leo’s face becomes distorted as he’s trying to return to his nonchalant and carefree attitude, but can’t help but be—or at least what I think—flattered. He eventually turns his lips up into a somehow cocky simper. “I would say I’m surprised, but I knew you couldn’t resist the ‘Leon charm’.”

With that, the turtle removes his sheathed sword and sets in against the wall next to my Yari. He then flicks off the light switch and finally lays down next to me. Butterflies crawl from my stomach and up to my throat and out my mouth, practically choking me. I clear my throat as I turn away from him. He takes the incentive to wrap his arms around my torso and pull me into his plastron.

I’m gonna explode. I’m simply gonna explode.

“Your heart’s racing,” Leo teases me, his breath hot against my neck.

“Your hands are cold.” I retort.

“Do you want me to move—”

“No.” I answer a little too quickly. “I mean, no, it’s fine.”

I try to take a few subtle deep breaths, but it’s in vain. It’s just occurring to me that Leo likes to annoy me and tease me. I thought it was just his personality, but he goes out of his way to be especially irritating until I get genuinely upset. Then he reveals he’s joking and does everything possible to stop me from being mad at him. But he also pushes my nerves as far as he can go, like it’s a game to him. I don’t think Leo enjoys the “making me upset” part, but he for sure has a thing for my exasperated glares, threatening “Leo”s, and playful punches to the chest.

But strangely, I like the teasing to a certain degree. His playful smirks and half assed—maybe sometimes ok—puns make my heart skip a beat every time. Leo is probably the most aggravating person I’ve talked to, but his charm overtakes that part of him, and he also never goes too far.

Suddenly, I’m brought back to reality when a loud snore sounds from behind me. Leo’s grip had loosened around me, sound asleep.

And he gets on me for falling asleep so soon.

There’s no way I’m getting any sleep tonight.

[collectionoftulips]

hi! it's me! (once again, I'm so sorry if this is long or stupid, just feel free to ignore it!)

first of all, i dont know if it is intentional or if it is something that just grows out of you as you write further chapters, but i feel that these last chapters are more... intimate? i mean, they *feel* more intimate for us readers (or at least me). and it's so cool that as they begin trusting each other more and more, their relationship building up, so does the writing style. it's a bit magic, actually ✨

i would give my life for gregory and hyacinth in this fic, no questions asked. their support to anthony!!! i mean obviously the family is supportive, but something about the way they are so hyped warms my heart. and on the same line, i can already see hy and kate watching kate's old performances and kate helping her and becoming her role model, somehow (and anthony obviously melting at the sight of this)

also i feel like anthony every chapter when the new dance style is mentioned, searching on youtube. i know zero about dances so it is always fun and interesting to learn!!

i dont know what else to say, appart from that i love this fic and im always thinkin "oh i want to read the next one" and become frustrated when i just cant because of time. but it makes me happy to see the update email! and i find myself thinking of scenes througout my day

and... quotes time!!

"The lack of memory was not immediately apparent, but rather something that only became clear once he tried to backtrack his steps, there was just… nothing" im not going to lie, this sentence and at the beginning really scared me, i thought that he might have messed it up

"It wasn’t so much that he could remember seeing her, only that he could recall being aware of her." i GASPED. i don't know why, because it is actually not that huge, but this sentence really screams that he *likes* her, he *notices* her

"He told himself that there was something good about the fact that she waited by the door, holding it for him, instead of running in the other direction. That it was normal for the pang of affection that warmed his heart to be there as they stood almost near enough that he could smell the lilies of what he suspected was her hair conditioner." okay, this one is long but my sweet bean trying to convince himself that the pang is normal! oh sweetie

"The judges only saw a snapshot of his dancing, Kate saw everything, all the flaws and mistakes as well as the small progresses, and if she thought he could do this - who was he to disagree?" + "The certainty she expressed by stating this fact was almost enough to quell Anthony’s doubts" he trusts her so much and he is so moved by her trust, i could cry

"It was just dancing, Anthony knew that, but he couldn’t help but wonder if it didn’t feel a little bit like magic." just, screaming. that's it

and that final quote... my boy is flling fast!!

once again, thank you thank you thank you for this fic! im sorry if this is messy or has typos but im writing on the notes app so that i dont forget anything, just fresh out of the reading. anyway, thank you and have a great day! ❤️❤️💕

It is not long or 'stupid' in the slightest - don't apologise. I am just sorry it's taken me ages to respond. I blame the cold I had though, which seems to have robbed the concept of time from me entirely. I really love these asks I get, they genuinely make my day.

I'm so glad you feel like the chapters are growing gradually more intimate - it was definitely something I was hoping to convey with the progression of each chapter and each stage of the competition. I'm so thrilled you like it ❤️

I love writing Hyacinth and Gregory in this story. I also find their unwavering support for Anthony's endeavours really endearing and hopefully this most recent chapter that I just posted gives some extra context as to why and hints a bit more clearly at the type of relationship they have with him.

I don't know anything about these dances either and I actually look up some of the basic steps on YouTube and learn some vague rules for each dance to help me write it a bit better, and it's so much fun.

Genuinely, thank you so much for these asks, they are so sweet and kind ❤️ Been feeling a bit iffy about my writing recently and this helps me a lot not being all like 'I'm just gonna throw in the towel because clearly my writing is meh'. So thank you ❤️

[myma1]

𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐍S𝐄 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄🚗😎

WEEKLY JOURNAL 1

Assalamualaikum everyone, today I would like to share with you about my sweet sour journey of taking my first and last driving license!

After I had just finished my SPM examination, I told my parents that I wanted to take a driving license. Since we had a long gap-free time while waiting for SPM results, I don't want to waste my time doing nothing at home. I want to fill my free time with something that I didn't have a chance to do when I was in Form 5 due to the business of studying. At first, I was scared to take the driving license test because all the fear-mongering about JPJ officers being fierce has really gotten to me. But when I think about it, when do I want to stay in my comfort zone?. Then i made up my mind to just try and get my own experience!

I choose to take an auto car. My parents chose an agency located at Surfine Hitech Hulu Langat. Since my parents chose an agency, the payment was quite pricey. The total cost is RM 2 100. It is quite expensive but it's totally worth the price. Back on 2 March 2024, it's a day that I need to participate in a 6 hour theory class. This is the first stage called Kp001, everyone needs to participate before taking a computer test. I was quite nervous yet I am so excited for tomorrow's class. I woke up earlier than usual at 5:30 AM. Since my agent will fetch me at 8 00 AM. While waiting I had my breakfast with my mom and watched sitcoms. I still remember the nervousness that got into me when I entered the theory class. It was chilly, and it was so crowded. Everyone was lining up to scan their identity card and thumbprint. There were not just Malaysian citizens surprisingly, but there was also a foreigner! Based on what I heard he was from Germany, and married to a Malaysian citizen.

After scanning my identity card and thumbprint, I chose to sit in front to have a better view and that's where I met Hanis. She came a little late and sat beside me. It was awkward at first but I managed to have a small chat with her. Then we continue our talk on break time. There was when I knew she was older than me, she was 25 years old! I started to ask her about university advice. I feel very comfortable talking with her because we have a lot of similarities! Meeting her was just like a blessing. I felt less nervous after I met her. Then we continue our theory class for 2 more hours. The theory class was entertaining. The presenter, Sir Farith, was very clever in making the class entertaining. He's very good at making jokes that make everyone shake with laughter. The way he presented was very clear and easy to understand. I jotted down every information that he told us about the road regulations. It was a very meaningful theory class. I had spent 3 weeks preparing myself for the computer test. I had many questions from numerous websites and apps. I got 41 over 42 questions. Then I got my L license!

I immediately continue Kpp02, practical training on the circuit on 23 March 2024. On my first day of practical training on the circuit, I was so nervous because I had never been taught to drive by my parents. Which means, that was my first time controlling the steering wheel and gear. It was a very tiring day since I continued the practical training on the circuit in the fasting month. I made a lot of mistakes on my first day and after I got back home, I poured into tears because I kept forgetting the steps. But I didn't let my short-term memory stop me, I watched a lot of YouTube videos to get more tips. I watched and jotted down every important information in my phone notes so that I could easily access the notes everywhere and anytime. I also had the same struggle for Kpp03, practical training on the road. I had a hard time remembering the road lane. Since there were too many changing lanes, so I used Google Maps to help me memorize the road lane.

Praise be to god, I pass my Quality test instructor known as the QTI test with flying colours. On 18 April 2024, it was my JPJ test day. It was a day that I still vividly remember. When I arrived, there were so many people, the weather was so nice and hot. I was so nervous but in the end, I am so grateful that I did pass driving on the circuit. Unfortunately, I failed to drive on the road. The reason that I failed was because I was too nervous. I forgot to give the signal and used the wrong pedal, which was a dangerous action and was the reason I failed. I was asked to stop side of the road and change the seat with the JPJ officer. I should be grateful that the JPJ officer was so kind to me tipped me to pass in the future and told me which part of the test I did it wrongly.

I learned my lesson and I need to retake the test on the road. I needed to pay RM400 for an extra class and retake the test. I watched a lot of YouTube videos regarding driving tips. On 12 May April 2024, I came back to the Surfine Hitech to retake my driving test on the road. I had mixed feelings. I tried to control my nervousness and be calm. I take a deep breath and read a lot of dua before entering the car where I will be tested. Finally, I passed my driving test!

I jumped into happiness right after I got out of the car. It was the happiest day ever! All my hard work pays off. Finally, on 30 March 2024, I got my license ID and P sticker. Surprisingly, there are no more physical cards, we just need to download 'my JPJ app' to get your ID. I straight up put the sticker on my mother's car. After I got the license, I used that opportunity to send and fetch my little brother from school. I did this to practice my driving because my mom always told me that "if you stop driving for a long period, you will start to feel scared". This was the biggest achievement that I have done in my entire life and I am so proud of myself because I managed to get out of my comfort zone.

[tatergang15]

The Crickets Have Arthritis by Shane Koyczan

It doesn’t matter why I was there, where the air is sterile and the sheets sting. It doesn’t matter that I was hooked up to this thing that buzzed and beeped every time my heart leaped like a man who’s faith tells him God’s hands are big enough to catch an airplane, or a world. It doesn’t matter that I was curled up like a fist protesting death, or that every breath was either hard labour or hard time, or that I’m either always too hot or too cold. Doesn’t matter because my hospital roommate wears star wars pyjamas, and he’s 9 years old. His name is Louis, and I don’t have to ask what he’s got. The bald head with the skin and bones frame speaks volumes. The Gameboy and the feather pillow booms like they’re trying to make him feel at home because he’s going to be here awhile. I manage a smile the first time I see him and it feels like the biggest lie I have ever told, so I hold my breath, ‘cause I’m thinking any minute now he’s going to call me on it. I hold my breath because I’m scared of a 57 pound boy hooked up to a machine because he’s been watching me and maybe I’ve got him pegged all wrong, like maybe he’s bionic or some shit. So I look away like just I made eye contact with a gang member who’s got a rap sheet the length of a lecture on dumb mistakes politicians have made. I look away like he’s going to give me my life back the moment I’ve got something to trade. I damn near pull out my pack and say

“Cigarette?" 

 But my fear subsides in the moment I realize Louis is all show and tell. He’s got everything from a shotgun shell to a crowfoot and he can put them all in context. Like,

"See, this is from a shooting range”

and

“See, this is from a weird girl”.

I watch his hands curl around a cuff-link and a tie-tack and realize that every nick-nack is a treasure and every treasure has a story, and every time I think I can’t handle more he hits me with another story. He says

“See, this is from my father”

“See, this is from my brother”

“See, this is from that weird girl”

“See, this is from my mother”

Took me about two days to figure out that weird girl is his sister, it took him about two hours today after she left for him to figure out he missed her. They visit every day, and stay well past visiting hours because for them that term doesn’t apply. But when they do leave, Louis and I are left alone. And he says

“The worst part about being sick is that you get all the free ice cream you ask for.”

And he says

“The worst part about that is realizing there is nothing more they can do for you.”

And there is no easy way of asking, and I know what he’s going to say but maybe he just needs to say it, so I ask him anyway.

“Are you scared?”

Louis doesn’t even lower his voice when he says

“Fuck yeah.”

I listen to a 9 year old boy say the word fuck like he was a 30 year old man with a nose-bleed being lowered into a shark tank, he’s got a right to it. And if it takes this kid a curse word to help him get through it, then I want to teach him to swear like the devil’s sitting there taking notes with a pen and a pad. But before I can forget that Louis is 9 years old he says

“Please don’t tell my dad.”

 He asks me if I believe in angels. And before I realize I don’t have the heart to tell him, I tell him

“Not lately.”

and I just lay there waiting for him to hate me. But he doesn’t know how to, so he never does. Louis loves like a man who lived in a time before God gave religion to men and left it to them to figure out what hate was. He never greets me with silence, only smiles and a patience I’ve never seen in someone who knows they’re dying. And I’m trying so hard not to remind him I’ll be out of here in a couple days, smoking cigarettes and taking my life for granted. And he’ll still be planted in this bed like a flower that refuses to grow. I’ve been with him for 5 days and all I really know is that Louis loves to pull feathers out of his pillow then watch them float to the ground. Almost as if he’s the philosopher inside of the scientist ready to say

“It’s gravity that’s been getting us down." 

  The truth is: there is not enough miracles to go around, kid. And there’s too many people petitioning God for the winning lotto ticket. And for every answered prayer, there’s a cricket with arthritis. And the only reason we can’t find answers is because the search party didn’t invite us, and Louis, right now the crickets have arthritis. So there is no music, no symphony of nature swelling to crescendos, as if ripping halos into melodies that can keep a rhythm with the way our hearts beat. So we must meet silence with the same level of noise that the parents of dying 9 year old boys make when they take liberties in talking with heaven. We must shout until we shatter in our own vibrations, then let our lives echo and grow, echo and grow, grow distant. Distant enough to know that as far as our efforts go, we don’t always get a reply.  But I swear to whatever God I can find in the time I have left, I’m going to remember you kid. I’m going to tell your story as often as every story you told me. And every time I tell it I’ll say

"See, there’s bravery in this world. There’s 6.5 billion people curled up like fists protesting death, but every breath we breathe has to be given back. A 9 year old boy taught me that.”

So hold your breath, the same way you’d hold a pen when writing Thank You letters on your skin to every tree that gave you that breath to hold. And then let it go, as if you understand something about getting old and having to give back. Let it go like a laugh attack in the middle of really good sex, the black eye will be worth it. Because what is your night worth without a story to tell? And why wield a word like worth if you’ve got nothing to sell? People drop pennies down a wishing well, so the cost of a desire is equal to that of a thought. But if you’ve got expectations, expect others have bought your exact same dream for the price of a ‘hard work, hang in, hold on’ mentality. Like, I accept any challenge so challenge me. Like, I brought a knife to this gun fight, but the other night I mugged a mountain so bring that shit, I’ve had practise. Louis and I cracked this world wide open and found that the prize inside is we never lied to ourselves, never told ourselves that we’d be easy or undemanding. So we sing in our own vibration, and dare angels to eavesdrop and stop midflight to pluck feathers from their wings and write demands that God’s hands take the time to catch you. So that even if God doesn’t, it wasn’t because we didn’t try.  I don’t often believe in angels, but on the day I left, Louis pulled a feather from his pillow and said

“This is for you.”

I half expected him to say

“See, this is the first one I grew.”