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justwinginglife · 5 months ago

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Wait For Me

Inspired by ideas from @adaizel (my dude, you really do be milking the longest fics out of me lmao I appreciate you though)

You'd known Soshiro Hoshina your whole life as both of you came from respectable kaiju-slaying clans, and though you knew most everything about him, you wanted to ignore one particular thing about him- that he was probably not into you.

Having seen you in diapers and then seen you in braces, you were more likely to be seen as a little sister to him rather than a love interest. He'd bandaged you up too many times after you got hurt and wiped your snot from your tear stained face too regularly to think any different. You denied the painful thought frequently though, continuing your active pursuit of him.

He was several years older than you, but you never stopped trying to remind him that you were a woman.

You recalled the first time you'd ever worn a bikini in front of him. He'd wanted to take you swimming in the ocean, the way he always did every summer, and you thought that it was high time that you show off what the lord gave you. But unfortunately, if he was shocked or awestruck at all by the lack of coverage over your body, he didn't show it. Even when you'd jumped in the air trying to hit a beach volleyball and your boobs had bounced their way to kingdom come, he still didn't react.

It made you want to try anything to get his attention. Suck a popsicle a little too hard, little too deep. Dry your dripping body off with his towel, because oops you forgot one. And you even made sure to drag the towel extra slow in between your legs.

Eventually you resorted to trying out different hairstyles and different makeup to try and get any sort of reaction from him. You thought the man should try gambling because he had one hell of a poker face, always treating you the exact same as he always did.

You thought it might be hopeless after all, but you had found out that Soshiro planned on leaving to join the Defense Force soon and you didn't want to give up on him, not after having pined for him your whole life. You felt you needed some sort of closure at least.

You already knew your parents would never let you follow him into battle, you were the sole heir to the clan. It was your duty to run the household, settle down, make more heirs. But before you resigned yourself to your fate, you needed him to know how you felt even if he didn't return the feelings (though you desperately hoped he did).

Your heart pounds as you begin to write him a letter and then you think your heart might just give in and collapse as you hand the letter off to your lady's maid to deliver to him.

Soshiro had been packing the last of his things in the dead of the night, getting ready to ship out in the morning, when he got your letter. He reads it over carefully, his eyes widening as they trail down the page. He rereads it again, making sure he didn't misinterpret.

Then he slips his shoes on quick as he can, and makes the short walk to your house, knocking gently on your bedroom door.

You open the door and smile when you see him but when you notice the letter in his hand and the solemnity etched into his face, you know he's not here to deliver good news. Before he can say anything, you begin to speak, wanting to get your words out before the tears come. "Can you- can you just wait for me? Please? Wait for me to be someone you can love? I'll be finished with my lessons soon and they say I'll be the lady of the house in no time at all. I can come visit you when I find the time. I can... I can make it work. Just please. Wait for me."

He holds both of your hands in his, giving them a gentle squeeze. For the first time in your life, you see his poker face wavering. He musters up his best smile for you, but it's not the sweet smile you know, it's apologetic from top to bottom.

"Thank you... for entrusting your feelings to a fool like me. If I'd known how you felt... well never mind that. I can't change what I would've done just as much as I can't change the different directions we're going in. We- we're living separate lives now, darling. And I can't wait for you, much as I'd like to. I need to do this, I need to go. And you have to stay here. I can't take you with me. Please forgive me."

With every word he says, the tears spill out more and more aggressively until all you are is a quivering mess, watching your one and only true love fade from your life.

"You'll forget me soon enough." He whispers as he pulls you into a quick hug, then he wipes your tears and begins to walk away.

Before he fades from view completely, you yell at the top of your lungs, not caring that it's the middle of the night, "I'd never forget you! I'll wait for you then! I'll always wait for you."

All you can see is his back, and you wonder if he heard you. If he smiled at all. If he reacted at all.

Then he rounds the corner and disappears with all your hopes and dreams.

You fall to the floor, knees crashing against the hard surface, but they don't hurt nearly as much as the ache in your empty chest.

You don't get a good sleep that night. In fact, you don't get a good sleep for many nights to come.

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Soshiro made Vice Captain of the Third Division rather quickly. The view from the top (he was told) was supposedly rather glorious, but when he got there he found it empty and lacking, realizing there was no one to share in his triumph. No one to cheer on his victory, to tell him they knew he could do it.

Then he thought of you again. It'd been years since he'd seen you but he still thought of you. Nearly everyday, against his will. He'd tried to force the feelings down, tried to ignore the picture of your tear-stained face in his mind, tried to stop hearing your voice echoing in his ears. He'd stayed up late training every night, until the ache in his heart was drowned out by the aching in the rest of his body. He'd even gone on random dates with random women to try to break the cycle of dreaming about you day and night, but he'd hear your voice in someone's laugh or he'd see your sparkle in someone's eyes, and he knew he couldn't deny himself any longer.

Trying not to love you was like trying to stop the push and pull of the waves, or trying to stop the rotation of the Earth, it couldn't be done.

He opens the top drawer of his desk again. Your letter is sitting right there, where he'd left it, for easy viewing access whenever he felt like wondering about what could've been. Wondering about how you're doing, about who you're with.

Do you still visit the secret spot he'd found for the two of you? Do you still play the violin, the one that he bought you? Do you... still love him? Did you wait for him?

The downward spiral of his thoughts sends him into a frenzy, as he hurriedly jams random clothes into a suitcase with just one clear thought in mind- he wants, he needs to see you. He needs to smell you, to hear you, to tell you how he feels. To make up for making you cry. To make up for all these years of lost time. To beg you for another chance. To let you love him. To let himself love you.

Captain Ashiro approves his hasty request for leave (having never seen the man take any time off at all in the many years he'd been in the Defense Force) and soon enough he's on the first bullet train back to his hometown.

He knocks on the familiar wood of your front door. His hands are shaking and his mind is scattered, filled with endless, useless, worrying thoughts, but he knows when he sees you everything will be okay. If he can just see you again, he'll know what to say, he'll know what to do, he'll be whole again.

The door opens and his smile is at the ready, waiting to greet you, but it's your mother that answers the door and his lips freeze mid-smile. He listens intently, his heart dropping into his stomach, as she explains that you've eloped with his brother- Soichiro.

He tastes salt and he realizes he's crying on your doorstep the way you did for him all those years ago. He hurriedly wipes his cheeks and thanks your mother quickly, before backing away. She gives him a sympathetic look as he stumbles down the street, lost in a daze.

For the first time in years, he doesn't know what he wants. What he should do. But he still needs to see you, married or not, and that desire drives him to get onto the next train to the Sixth Division.

When he arrives, it looks like they're throwing some sort of party. He checks his reflection in a nearby window, making sure the crying he did on the way here isn't visible in his eyes or his cheeks. When he's fixed his hair and adjusted his collar to his liking, he heads into the main building.

He asks around and it appears they're inducting a new Vice Captain.

He watches from the back row as the new Vice Captain takes the stage, waving and grinning. His heart roars in his chest when he realizes it's you.

Your speech is sweet and short but he hangs onto every word, watching your lips as they move.

Then you step down from the stage and the ceremony is concluded. Officers start to file out of the room and then eventually it's just you and him.

He lifts a hand awkwardly, giving you a little wave.

He thinks you might ignore him. Thinks you might turn around and walk away. Leave through the nearest exit. Run through the nearest exit, desperate to get away from him. From the man who broke your heart.

But he never could've expected what you'd do.

You do run but you run towards him, leaping into his arms.

He's shocked but he quickly pulls himself together and pulls you tight against him, inhaling the sweet scent of you. He doesn't want to talk about what happened or what is going to happen when you finally let go, he just wants to hold you and let this be enough. But the erratic beat of his heart isn't satisfied with just holding you. He needs to make you his.

He pulls away and grabs your hands, checking for a ring. He almost cries again when he doesn't see one.

You laugh, looking at him puzzled. "Yes? Something you need?"

"You're... you're not married." His breath is so shaky it's a wonder he was able to form words at all.

"I said I'd wait, didn't I?" You whisper, pulling your hands away from his so you can cup his face and stroke his cheeks with your thumbs.

Now he starts crying.

You kiss the tears away from his cheeks. "Hey, I don't remember you being such a crybaby. What happened to the tough Vice Captain of the Third Division?" You tease him but your voice is still soft, filled with concern at his sudden burst of emotion.

"H-he's not here right now. Just me. Just a man who's in love with you, wondering if you can still find it in you to love him back."

You smile warmly at him and he thinks he might just die now and go to heaven, having finally seen your smile for real and not just in his haunting dreams.

"I said I'd wait, and I have. I'd wait a thousand years for you. I'd wait more than that. It's you, it's always been you and it always will be."

He sighs, relieved. He takes you in his arms again, pulling you close and trailing kisses all over you. Then he freezes.

"Wait, I heard you ran off to get married with my brother?"

You laugh and the sound is enough to melt his heart and ease his nerves. "Well I guess that's partially true. I mean I did run away with him but only to join his division, that's it. I was hoping to run into you."

Soshiro squeezes you tighter, afraid if he lets you go this might be a dream. "So marry me then."

The waves continue to push and pull, the Earth continues to spin on its axis, and Soshiro continues to love you immensely and infinitely the rest of his entire life.

#kaiju no. 8 #soshiro hoshina #soshiro hoshina x reader #anime #hoshina #oneshot #hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro x reader #anime fanfic #fluff #han's library

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thelov3lybookworm · 9 months ago

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Not a bad decision

Summary: Dresses are stressful.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: A short lil blurb like thing which was supposed to be posted during @/starfallweek, but i decided the other fics were better, so you get this now

(also i feel like i wrote this when i was sleepy even though i did not because this fic's writing feels a lil different from all my other ones 🤷🏻‍♀️)

well well guess who forgot to name the fic. IT WAS MEEEEE

anyways, Enjoy!

Dresses were not something Y/n was interested in, that much would be clear to anything with a pulse and a brain.

They were something everyone around Y/n was interested in though, and she felt like a rabbit among deers as Feyre gushed about the new seamstress the high lady had hired with her sisters and Mor.

"Oh mother, I am telling you Mor, she makes the most wonderful dresses. The dress I wore last week that you loved? She made it."

Y/n tuned them out, or tried to anyway. They were too loud, so loud that even the mother would have begged them to shut up.

"Y/n?"

Y/n blinked, glancing up from where she was sharpening her daggers to keep them ready for if she had to go to a mission in the near future.

"Yes?"

"Elain asked you what you were going to be wearing to the party." Mor told her, a knowing gleam in her eye.

"Oh." Y/n straightened, clearing her throat as she tried to think of an excuse to what she knew was coming. "Um, I think I'll be getting some new leathers, maybe a new shirt-"

"A shirt?" Nesta questioned, her eyes incredulous.

"Uh yes?" Y/n's cheeks were blazing, and she understood why it was shocking to the newer additions in the Inner circle like Nesta and Elain as they had only recently been made fae, and even then it had been rare for the to attend family parties.

"Y/n hasn't worn dresses in centuries." Mor explained, making Y/n deflate a little in relief.

"But why?"

"That, I don't know."

Y/n rolled her eyes at that. "Wearing a dress is not convenient. I can't fight in it."

And she looked weird in them. She never thought herself beautiful enough to look good or even begin to compare to the other beautiful females, so she never tried to wear anything other than her trusty leathers.

Nesta gave Y/n a look, and having become very close with Nesta to the point where Y/n had even started to consider her a sister, Y/n knew that look meant no good.

"No one is going to try to rip out your throat at a high lord's party you know."

Y/n smiled at Nesta, playing coy as Feyre announced that the seamstress had arrived and was waiting for them in the sitting room. "You never know Nesta, you never know."

"You are wearing a dress for this party. I won't take no for an answer."

Y/n's eyes widened when she realised Nesta was not bluffing. "I- I can't-"

"You will." Nesta muttered, her sentence ending in Y/n's cry of shock as Nesta grabbed Y/n's arm and dragged her over to where the other ladies had disappeared into the sitting rom.

Mother help me.

Nesta knew about Y/n's harmless little crush on Azriel. Of course she did. She knew everything.

She also insisted that this crush was not harmless, giving some stupid reason how Y/n was getting shyer and more concerned about what Azriel thought about her, leading to her becoming more secluded.

Y/n did not believe Nesta's wild accusations though. She was sure this little infatuation would go away with time, even if it hadn't in the past three hundred years.

"Y/n, are you coming or should I arrange your funeral?"

Y/n rolled her eyes at Nesta's absurd statement as she began walking towards the door.

"And why would you do that?"

Y/n found Nesta glaring at her when she opened her bedroom door.

"Because it sure seems like you were taking your time dying in there."

Y/n laughed, but the sound was short lived as her previous insecurities came rushing back as she glanced down at what she was wearing. She was so scared of how weird she would look she hadn't even glanced in a mirror, and now felt like it was a bad idea to be completely unaware of how she looked because now, she wished to die.

Maybe Nesta should arrange a funeral.

"How do I look?" Y/n questioned, and by the soft look on Nesta's face, Y/n knew her concerns were clear in her voice.

"If I were Azriel, I would kill myself if I wasn't the one removing that dress tonight, I'm just saying." Nesta muttered, shrugging. Y/n gaped at her.

"What- I- I don't even know what to think-"

"Good then. Stop thinking and just enjoy the party. You're already late. All the guests have arrived, and starfall is about to begin soon. We need to hurry."

Y/n nodded, and with a last skeptical look at her dress, she hurried after Nesta.

Starfall was considered a sacred night, and more so in Velaris. Plus add to that the extra and huge show off that was Rhys. The party was bound to be extravagant.

And sure enough, when Y/n stepped into the main ball room where everyone was gathered, drinking and chatting and dancing, Y/n's eyes widened in amazement. It should not have been a shock, considering Y/n had been attending these parties as part of the inner circle for the past three centuries. But this was a party thrown by Rhys, and he had an unbeatable streak of always shocking Y/n with his over the top arrangemens.

"Y/n!" Came the whining voice of Cassian, and Y/n turned to find him running towards where Nesta and Y/n stood, his head turned to look at someone behind him.

Y/n smiled. "What happened?"

At that, Cassian turned to look at the two females, an adorable pout on his lips. "Azriel is not being very nice-"

Cassian's eyes were fixed on Y/n, wide and shocked. She blinked at him, glancing down at herself, doubt again creeping in before she made herself meet his eyes.

"Cass?" Nesta mumbled, a self satisfied smirk on her face.

He blinked, glancing at Nesta for a moment before turning back to Y/n. "You- you look good."

Blood rushed to Y/n's cheeks at that. "Thank you."

He nodded, his eyes running down her frame quickly before he seemed to remember what he came here for. "Azriel. He's fighting with me."

Y/n blinked. "Fighting? For what?"

"I begged him to drink with me, and he said no. And then he was being mean and not nice at all."

Y/n laughed, patting his shoulder. "I'll take care of him, don't worry."

He seemed satisfied. "He is right next to the refreshments table."

Y/n nodded uncertainly, then went off to find Azriel.

She found him exactly where Cassian had said she would, and she walked up to him with a deep breath.

"I heard you were bullying Cassian."

He turned to meet her eyes, then froze. Y/n had to stifle the urge to cover herself somehow with the way he was studying her form. He himself looked ravishing, clad in a tight shirt and a coat.

To get some semblance of control back, she snapped her fingers in front of his unfairly handsome ace, and he startled.

That in turn startled Y/n.

She, a mere fae, had managed to startle the spymaster of night court? This was certainly new.

"I- what? Did you say something?"

He... was he... blushing?

No why would he blush?

Was he?

"I heard you were bullying Cassian?"

His brows furrowed. "I haven't seen him since this morning though."

Y/n blinked, then whipped around to glare at where Cassian and Nesta were standing, off in a dark, secluded corner, and giggling among themselves.

Y/n folded her arms across her chest, feeling betrayed, but before she could think more about that, Azriel's voice broke her focus.

"Um, Y/n? Will you- can I have a dance?"

Y/n stared at his nervously shifting form, speechless. "You- you want to dance... with me?"

He nodded, his confidence seeming to increase as he extended his hand, his gaze boring deep into Y/n's eyes. So deep it seemed to touch her soul.

Blushing, she slid her hand into his scarred one, and, in a burst of boldness, ran her thumb over the back of his hand. The move seemed to shock him, but still, he led her to the dance floor, his back straight, wings high.

As she followed behind him, she could not help but glance around in search of Nesta, a wide smile on her face when her best friend gave her a thumbs up.

Maybe this was a good idea after all.

Acotar Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392 @kennedy-brooke @tele86 @miluiel1 @hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter @piceous21 @mybestfriendmademe @saltedcoffeescotch @eve175 @starsinyourseyes @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @byyalady @lilah-asteria @girlswithimagination @gardenofrunar

Azriel Taglist: @darthdumbasss @foreverrandomwritings @azrielsmate3 @celestialend @stqrgirlies-blog @tele86 @bakananya @xyzmeh @st4r-girl-official @caraaaaugh @nacho-nat @allllium

#azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #azriel fic #acotar #acotar fandom #acotar fanfic #acotar fluff #acotar series #acotar writing #mating bond #sarah j maas #a court of thorns and roses #acotar headcanon #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel fanfic #azriel x you

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sansaorgana · 6 months ago

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Could I maybe request a bit of a sequel fic to thrown to the wolves where we kind of see the outside galaxy's perspective on the couple and their son. Like a lady from caladan remembering playing with reader and reconciling it with who she is now or a low ranking guard on Giedi Prime and the few times he's caught glimpses of them reflecting on how great it is that his chances of being randomly killed by the baron have dropped significantly since the Baroness has arrived or a handmaid to Irulan whose heard whispers that even the emperor fears them. IDK I think it could be interesting to see them and see how rumor and truth shape their wider image in the galaxy.

Thank you once again though for the masterpiece that is Thrown To The Wolves!

THROWN TO THE WOLVES MASTERLIST

AUTHOR’S NOTE — Hi, darling! 💝 Sorry that it took me so long but I was dealing with the end of semester at Uni. 🙄 Thank you for the request because it was interesting to write from other people's perspective. Perhaps the story is not very long but I have one more story about Feyd and our beloved (Na-)Baroness in my inbox to write, so it's not the end... yet! 😁

WORD COUNT — 1,370

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

After her arrival, Princess Irulan was told by her servants that her father expected to see her. She nodded her head and freshened herself before taking a walk down the corridor to meet with her father. To her surprise, The Reverend Mother was not there and it was unusual since she often reminded of The Emperor's shadow.

“Welcome back home, child,” her father greeted her and pointed at the chair next to his. Irulan sat there and looked at him, waiting for his questions. “How was the ceremony on Giedi Prime?”

“Splendid,” Irulan answered genuinely. “They have outdone themselves, I have to admit. And The Baroness gave birth to the new na-baron on the same night. The excitement was unbelievable.”

“On the same night?” The Emperor smirked. “That woman plotted it very carefully.”

“Not everything is a result of plotting and scheming, dear father,” Irulan sighed. “Women cannot predict the exact time of birth.”

She was a bit irritated with her father for assuming such a thing – not because she was under The Baroness’ charm or influence but because it was so… typical for a man of him. They had no idea about childbirth but they loved to pretend they knew everything.

“Do not underestimate them, The Harkonnens,” The Emperor tilted his head as he squinted his eyes at his daughter as if he was able to hear her thoughts. “Their technology and medicine advanced us in ways we don't even know about. They know very well that their experiments would not be approved by the other Great Houses so they keep most of them a secret. And do not underestimate The Baroness either. What do people say about her?”

“That she can temper Feyd-Rautha, the new Baron,” Irulan answered. “They hope for that certainly.”

“Tame him? Have you seen her on Arrakis?” The Emperor sneered at that. “Women tend to be more ruthless leaders than men for they truly do believe that their cruelty is justified for the way the society is treating them,” he reminded his daughter. After all, she would inherit after him as well.

If they were lucky. And deep down he knew they would not be. He was old and weak now but not stupid. He knew what The Harkonnens wanted – his throne. Feyd-Rautha himself perhaps would not be a threat that big but the new Baroness was a dangerous new pawn in that game. She had her ruthless husband under control and he was nothing but a loyal dog – he would bite and attack when she asked. And The Emperor knew that she would ask. She was only waiting for the right moment.

“The Harkonnens have gained a new amount of power and influence. A dangerous one,” he thought out loud. “They're so powerful now that I can't take away their privileges because they'd attack and only prove their forces are stronger than the Imperial ones.”

“It's better to keep them as friends,” Irulan nodded as she played nervously with her fingers.

“Let's hope and pray that the new Baroness wants to make friends,” her father smiled sadly.

He was old already, he couldn't care less. But he was worried about his daughter’s future.

“The word soon will spread about their power. We have to make sure all the rumours about them wanting the Imperial Throne will be silenced,” he added.

The rumour was spreading indeed. But a maid from Caladan who had used to be the new Baroness' personal servant back in the day… She didn't believe the cruel rumours.

As her former Princess was leaving to Giedi Prime, she had promised her to keep visiting her mother's grave. And she was standing above it now as she admired the new stone next to it. The grave of Duke Leto and Lady Jessica was standing right next to his late wife's. Baroness Harkonnen had paid for the transport of their bodies and for the funeral and the stone. She had given all the instructions on what should be written on it.

Duke Leto Atreides. Lady Jessica – mother of Prince Paul Atreides and the unnamed daughter.

And the maid knew – she had heard the stories – that it was Baroness Harkonnen herself who had murdered Lady Jessica and her child. But the maid also knew that her former Princess could not be as fearsome and cruel as the rumours were saying. She still cared about her father and even made her peace with Lady Jessica in a way, since she allowed her to rest next to her mother. Another rumour said that she had also allowed Prince Paul's Fremen lover to take care of his body and give him a funeral according to their customs.

But the maid was sad as she watched. So many things had changed and she wished they all were still here – Duke Leto, Jady Jessica, young Paul and young (Y/N).

A cold shiver went down her body at the realisation that only Baroness Harkonnen had survived out of them all. Perhaps the rumours were true after all – she had to be cruel and fearsome if she had been the only survival of her House and family and if she had helped to murder them herself. And the stone she had bought did not mean anything, really. It was just a stone.

Usually, on other planets, becoming the personal guard of the noble family was a privilege. On Giedi Prime it meant a death sentence.

The young Baron couldn't care less about human life and he was always first to take it. The lives of slaves, servants and guards meant nothing to him and in the past he had been even killing them just out of boredom.

The young guard assigned to keep an eye on the nursery was tense every time the Baron was nearby. But so far so good, he thought, when he realised that the young na-baron Maxim-Feyd Harkonnen was already six months old and he was still alive. To last half a year nearby the Baron was an achievement for sure.

As he was standing in front of the doors leading to the nursery most of his days, he had an opportunity of witnessing the scary Baron Harkonnen performing activities that would certainly spoil his ruthless image. He was visiting the nursery every day alongside his wife – in fact, The Baroness was visiting a few times a day. But at least once a day The Baron was by her side, looking the guard up and down with contempt but doing nothing more than that.

Apparently, it was his wife's influence – so the people said. She believed that her own servants should not fear them too much because it was influencing their loyalty in a bad way. Whatever she believed in – for all the servants, slaves and guards it was a big relief.

But only the guards working around the nursery and two maids named Astra and Cara could see The Baron Harkonnen being… soft. Soft around his son when he was carrying him around and telling him war stories. He was definitely a very proud father even though he was often scared of hurting his child accidentally. And he tended to forget that children – especially so small – couldn't understand him. He often addressed little Maxim as if he was an adult and then he was getting frustrated that his son didn't understand him.

The Baroness found it funny each time. But even though she was a woman and most likely a reason why the chances of getting randomly killed decreased, it would be foolish to think she was not to be feared.

Not only her one command would make The Baron attack but also all it would take to enrage him was to look at The Baroness the wrong way. She wouldn't have to ask then, The Baron was a guard dog. A rabid animal, barely tamed by a madwoman – you never knew when she'd loosen the leash.

And that was the Galaxy's greatest fear now – and it was not the question of if but a question of when the leash would be loosened and the war for the Imperial Throne starts. And people wondered who was truly more dangerous – the rabid dog or the mad owner?

MASTERLIST

#sansaorgana: Answered #lovely anons #sansaorgana: Requests #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen x reader #lilysfiction #austin butler x reader #tttw

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ixiot-ghostrebel · 1 year ago

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I have another brainrot cooking, so in the meantime, have this:

Alrighty, so the new archon who's name I can't remember, right?

From what I've seen of them, they're pretty cocky and prideful.

I can imagine when The Creator visits their nation, they just flirt with The Creator every chance they get

And the other archons (except for Venti because he does it too even though it's to a smaller scale) are just HORRIFIED awaiting The Creator's reaction.

Now The Creator does not give a shit and just fucking FLIRTS BACK

And all of the archons (except for her because she's smug asf) are just:

OMG FURINA & CREATOR RIZZING FR LOL I LOVE THIS. If only I had good flirting skills, man—I'll have to lightly go over that part 😔 SOBBING. MY SKILL ISSUES—

@royalrose2011 THIS IS SO GOOD THOUGH—

Furina Flirting w/ Creator: Archon Reactions?

Furina be slaying out here fr—and you're living it! When did she become—

The other Archons are being caught off guard.

(Warning: Might be OOC!)

Venti

Man is flabbergasted. I mean, he knows he does the same thing and all that—flirting with you and stuff—but to see Furina just flirt in every single moment she gets, every single moment you're in HER nation—holy cow!

He's both amazed and shocked! He should write a poem about this! This was a thing to remember for the ages!

And perhaps he should show this to Zhongli and Ei to watch them wither. And he should present it to you! You love his poetry, and you certainly tolerate his little flirting too!

"Ehe, this bard has found the inspiration for a new ballad! I'll be right back, everyone! Good luck, blockhead Zhongli!" Cheery boi goes on his merry way to write the best poem the Creator has ever seen.

Safe to say it was worth the wait. You absolutely loved it.

Zhongli

He got a heart attack, seeing Focalors flirting with you so shamelessly. This was blasphemous! Even Venti, that absolute airhead, wouldn't go this extreme!

Children these days, and their lack of mannerisms. Zhongli can only sigh, sip his tea, and try his best to not throw a rock at the Hydro Archon. At least she's keeping you in good spirits and amused.

"Lady Furina, please don't get into Their Grace's personal space too much. Allow them so breathing space, please." If he thinks Furina is trying to get a little too close to you, Zhongli will plant his foot down. He has meteors to send as warning if Furina would not bid to these warnings.

Raiden Ei

Aside from the Puppet Shogun's general dislike to how close Furina was (Ei can't blame the Puppet Shogun), Ei feels real uncomfortable watching Furina getting all confident around you.

She's not uncomfortable of the flirting—after all, she too also deals with Venti's dealings, but Furina was a whole new level she has yet to fully understand.

"Furina. Watch yourself." Bodyguard Ei—that's her new job now. She's trying to give you that personal space you need that Furina is trying to take. "I will not hesitate to strike twice." If there's anything sketchy going on that Furina does, Ei is stepping in with her Musou no Hitotachi, no excuses.

She really does know how you tolerate this.

Nahida

She's in between giggling at Furina's antics and entirely shocked with how well you're taking it.

She thought you would've...how should she describe it...dislike how confident and smug Furina was doing. Then again, you were also tolerating all of Venti's antics too...

Nahida isn't really sure what to do, to be honest. While she loves Furina for keeping The Almighty Creator amused, she doesn't know how she feels about the constant flirting. In a sense, you were spending more time in Fontaine than anywhere else now!

"Your Grace, can you come hang out with me for a little while?" Nahida asks you with this cute little pout. "I would like to spend more time with you too in my nation!" And boy, are you now conflicted. Furina being a slay queen, or Nahida being cute child—who would you want to spend more time with?

Furina

While she appears confident and smug, she is most, upon all else, stoked and ecstatic of the fact you love her antics! Now, was that a new perspective she has yet to see!

With her keeping you around her awesome, extravagant nation, she can show all of Teyvat how her nation was the best nation of all time! And the popularity of Fontaine itself was increasing—more mora for her economy!~

Of course, she had it all planned out from the start! Who could make such a masterpiece and grand operation other than the Hydro Archon herself?

"Your Ever-Elegant Almighty Grace!~ Please, Allow I, Focalors, the Hydro Archon of Fontaine and God of Justice, send us off with these fine cakes. You are, however, by far, sweeter than any divine dessert!~" You snicker, liking the way this is going. Furina is even more cocky and smug when the other Archons try to intervene and take your attention away from her.

She has truly become the god that outshined all of Celestia. Hoho, the way their faces looked! She's absolutely stoked!

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: It feels great to be motivated! I hope you like this post :D I find this one real amusing LOL—Furina would really do this. If Furina would flirted with me, I honestly wouldn't know how I would feel LOL. I still love Furina though—high hopes that when Furina is out, Furina Wanters will be Furina Havers!~

✦ Check out The Ghost Rebel’s Blog Description & Info Page to See if Their Mailbox is Open! ✦

#genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #self aware genshin #sagau x reader #genshin self aware #sagau #sagau genshin #yandere sagau #genshin cult au #sagau brainrot #genshin imact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #sagau venti #sagau furina #sagau zhongli #sagau ei #sagau nahida

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smoooothoperator · 4 months ago

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What Was I Made For?

20: Espresso

childhood enemies, forced proximity, accidental pregnancy, enemies to lovers (👀)

Warnings: Melanie, Dafne (sassy)

a/n: I'M BAAAAAAACKKKKKK!!!!!!!! God it took me a while to write this! Does anyone remeber what happened 🥲 Anyway!! Sorry for being too late! My life is busy as fuck now and things are not going how I would have wanted... But here you have a new chapter!

if you want to play a game and ask things about Dafne

Masterlist

previous part | next part

If you want to be tagged don't forget to message me!

Every way of feedback is very welcomed

Sleeping that night was impossible. My mind played tricks, conjuring images of Melanie and Charles together, laughing at me, sharing secret moments.

Everytime I woke up at night, I looked at Charles, studying his face, and trying to move away from him every time.

I should trust him. He showed me multiple times his love for me. But… What if that baby is his? What will happen? Will he be there for Melanie too? I'll have to share him with her?

Charles shifted closer in his sleep, his arm wrapping around my waist, his hand resting on my belly as if to feel every flutter of the baby’s kicks. Each time, I stiffened, eyes wide open, staring at the wall as a cold sweat trickled down my back.

I didn’t ask for this. Not the drama, not the chaos of a new relationship, and certainly not for Melanie to barge back into my life with this new mess..

The clock showed 4 a.m. I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep again; my thoughts were too tangled, my heart too unsettled. I slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Charles, and wrapped myself in a blanket. I needed air, space to think, to plan my next move.

I sighed, smiling weakly when I saw Athena walking out of Charles' room and I picked her up, holding her close to me while I went downstairs to the living room.

“My little baby” I sighed, kissing her soft head.

I sat on the couch with her on top of my belly, smiling weakly when I saw her looking at me with her big blue eyes.

“You can't leave now” I whisper. “Is not fair… Wait a little, please? Wait to meet Dorian, hm? You have to meet him, cuddle him, make him laugh…”

I kissed her little head and hold her close, feeling how skinny she was, how she was cuddling me to get warmth.

“My little old lady” I sighed.

I grabbed my phone and looked through my mail, through my social media. I read everything, all the comments of the posts about Charles, Melanie and myself. I read all the insults, all the threats, all the hate.

How can people be so unfair? Why are they commenting without knowing the truth? They think that because we are their idols and let them take pictures with us, they have every right to think they know us personally. They don't know us, how we are, how we feel.

And then there is Melanie. Who is she? Who does she think she is? What made her think that she could come to my house and irrupt my own happiness?

“Why are you awake?”

I flinched, gasping softly when I heard Charles' voice coming from the stairs, making me sigh and look back at him.

“The baby is kicking a little wildly” I lied, rubbing my belly.

“Is he?” he sighed, sitting next to me and kissing my belly softly. “Or is that you couldn't sleep?”

“I…” I sighed, smiling weakly and brushing his messy hair with my fingers, feeling how he relaxed when he laid in the couch next to me. “I just…”

“Is it because of what happened with Melanie?”

I swallowed thickly and nodded, wrapping my arms around him, letting him cuddle me.

After that talk we had in my room, Charles and I went back to our friends to have dinner. But there was that voice again disturbing me all the time, and it made me have a bad sleep.

“I just… I feel that I have to talk with her” I whisper. “I feel that I have to put her in her place. To…”

“To bring back the Dafne that put Melanie in her place months ago?” he sighed, rubbing my belly. “You did it once, and look how it ended…”

“I know” I mumbled. “I know… But I want to know why she's doing this. She wants fame? Money?”

“I don't know what she wants” he sighed, moving his head and resting his chin on my chest, looking at me. “But I don't want her to hurt you”

“She won't” I whisper. “Not more than she already did… I want to end this, I want all this shit away from the baby”

He sighed and moved closer, pressing his lips on mine in a soft kiss. I sighed against his lips, placing my hand on his cheek and kissing him back.

“I don't want to lose you. I just can't…”

“Hey” I chuckled softly, pecking his lips. “She might be a little crazy, but I don't think she's the type of crazy one that would poison my drink”

“I don't trust her” he said seriously. “Really, Dafne. Just… She's smarter than she looks. Please think about it before deciding if you want to talk with her”

“I'll be smarter than her, then” I whisper, trying to calm him. “You know me, Charlie… You know I would do anything for my loved ones”

I smile weakly and looked at him, watching how he nodded slowly after some seconds, kissing my lips softly before resting his head back on my chest. I hugged him, feeling him relax in my arms and fall asleep again.

I have to talk with Melanie. To make sure she knows where her place is. To make sure she knows that she won't have what she wants.

The day was bright in Florence. Tourists were walking around, taking pictures of the buildings and of the statues standing proudly in the street.

My phone buzzed once, twice. I sighed, grabbing it out of my bag and looked at the screen. Charles sent me pictures of how he and our friends were spending the day in the diver near the house, as well as screenshots of the chat with Melanie.

This morning, Charles received texts from her asking him to meet in a cafeteria in Florence, wanting to convince him that the baby was his and that she was better than me. And even if Charles hates it, he knew that I would take that chance to talk with her instead of him.

After having breakfast, I took his car and drove to the city, parking the car in the garage of my apartment and following the streets that led me where Melanie wanted to meet Charles.

And there I am now, standing in front of the door of the cafeteria, feeling the nervous kicks of my baby right on my ribs, warning me of how bad this meeting could end.

“Don't worry, love” I whispered, rubbing the place the kicks were getting stronger. “Mama is alright”

I took a deep breath, steadying myself as I adjusted the bag on my shoulder. As I opened the door, the rich aroma of fresh coffee, the tang of lemon cleaner, and the faint hint of many perfumes mingled together, making my stomach churn and my head spin.

“Calm down, Dafne” I told myself, walking towards the table Melanie told Charles she was waiting for him.

I stood some meters away, right on her back and tapped her shoulder, making her stand up too quickly.

“Charles! I knew you would-”

“He ended up being sick” I sighed, smirking. “I guess you'll have to talk to me”

“Like hell I'm going to talk with you” she groaned.

“Oh, why?” I laughed. “What is it, hm? Are you afraid of me? Come on, I'm an inoffensive pregnant woman. I won't hurt you”

“Fuck off, Dafne,” she spat, but her eyes darted nervously around the room, as if searching for an escape or waiting for a cue.

“I suggest you keep your voice low” I smiled. “You don’t want to have an audience, do you? Come on, sit down”

I looked at her, challenging her with my eyes. She groaned, and sat on the chair again while I followed every movement she made.

Yesterday her belly looked smaller than it does now.

“Well, let's talk” I smiled, sitting on the chair in front of her. “Do you want to order something? I heard this place is amazing”

“Whatever” she groaned, crossing her arms and avoiding my gaze.

I raised my hand, smiling at a waitress that came walking towards me.

“Oh God, Dafne Morelli” she smiled looking at me. “What can I do for you? What do you want to order?”

“Well…” I smiled looking at Melanie. “What do you want, dear?”

“Espresso” she groaned, making me smirk and nod.

“An espresso for my friend and for me… Well, I'm pregnant, do you have something like milkshakes? I heard this place has an amazing chocolate milkshake”

“Yeah, sure! An espresso and a chocolate milkshake, got it” she nodded. “Anything else?”

“I'm starting with my cravings… Give me the weirdest thing you can make” I smiled softly and then I looked at Melanie. “Do you have cravings too?”

“O-oh” she frowned, looking at me and then at the waitress. “Yeah, sure”

I smiled fakely looking at her and then at the waitress, who smiled and nodded before walking away.

I looked at Melanie, studying her with my eyes. I placed my hands on my belly and smirked.

“How far are you?” I smiled.

“Why do you care?” she groaned. “How far are you”

“Nineteen weeks” I smiled rubbing my belly.

I looked at her, watching how she frowned, confused. And it only made my smirk grow wider.

“How far are you?” I repeated. “You should know, huh? Come on. If you are sure the baby is Charles', you at least be some more weeks far than me”

She swallowed thickly and clenched her jaw, her hand going to her belly immediately.

“But… why does it look smaller than my belly, huh?”

She flinched, her eyes flickering to the side like a cornered animal. Her hand trembled slightly as she reached for her water glass, trying to mask the nerves creeping into her voice.

“And you just ordered an espresso” I smiled innocently, placing a hand on top of the table and drumming my nails over the wood.

“What's the problem with that?” she scoffed.

“Oh, nothing, dear” I smiled, shaking my head “I find it very curious, you know? The whole situation is so curious”

“You are paranoid” she groaned, raising her voice. “What's wrong with ordering an espresso? This is Italy, God damn it!”

I smirked, watching how people turned around and immediately gasped after recognizing me, and maybe recognizing Melanie thanks to the gossip pages.

“What's wrong with it?” I laughed. “If you are pregnant you can't have caffeine, not even smell it without wanting to throw up everything you ate until you empty your stomach. But if you were pregnant, you should have known about it, huh? That's why it's curious”

“You little bitch…” she groaned, clenching her jaw.

“Show some respect, Melanie,” I chuckled. “Oh, and here’s another thing… Yesterday, your belly was smaller than mine. But today? Suddenly you’re struggling to reach the table?”

She stayed silent, hearing how the couple that was at the table behind me was talking in whispers, grabbing her phone and recording us.

“Tell me, Melanie” I smiled, leaning back on the chair. “Which one of the guys you cheated on Charles is the father, hm? Or, even better… What size is the belly you have today?”

“What are you talking about” she groaned.

“You think we are stupid, Melanie?” I scoffed. “You think you can come, tell shit and then get what you want? You really think Charles would go back to you? You wanted more money? It was that, right? Or you needed fame. That's why you published that in every gossip magazine you could reach? I wasn't born yesterday, neither Charles”

“And what about you, huh?” she scoffed. “Is that baby really Charles'? If I remember well, you were dating that actor less than a week after that day in Monza. Is the baby his and you want to baby trap Charles?”

“Why would I do such a thing?” I laughed, grabbing my wallet and placing the sonogram on top of the table. “See? That is from two weeks ago. And if you can count… Can you? I mean, maybe all the times you dyed your hair burnt your brain. Anyway, nineteen weeks ago was Monza .Come on, show me yours. Or are you going to search on the internet for a sonogram?”

“You are crazy!” she exclaimed, standing up quickly.

“Oh, your belly dropped” I smirked, pointing with my finger how the belly moved lower. “Next time, make sure to adjust it better, okay?”

“Fucking bitch, you'll hear from my-” she screamed, but I stopped her, standing up too.

“No, Melanie” I smiled, holding my belly after noticing how the kicks started again. “You'll hear from my lawyer. And you are going to regret ever having crossed paths with me. Charles is going to request a parental test. So you better give up and tell the truth before the demand gets worse”

“You are so fucking crazy” she groaned.

“Am I? I think the couple that sits behind me thinks otherwise, hm?” I scoffed. “Next time you want to baby trap someone, just make sure to at least be pregnant, okay? You thought that because I was pregnant I would go soft on you? Poor Melanie… thinking she can do whatever she wants and break a family only because she needs money… What happened with your influencer career, huh?”

“You ruined it” she groaned.

“Me? I had nothing to do with that, honey” I said, rolling my eyes. “People saw how you truly are and they ignored you”

“No! It's your fault!” she repeated, grabbing her bag and looking at me with anger in her eyes. “You will regret this, Morelli”

“Uh, I'm shaking”I laughed. “Come on, try to touch me. Let's see who cries first”

She clenched her jaw and looked at me. Then, I saw her looking down at her phone, tapping things on it. She looked around, and her eyes stopped on a table not far away from the one we were using.

“Oh, let me guess” I smiled looking around where her gaze stopped. “You have a friend in a gossip magazine, huh? That's how you got the exclusive? And how the paparazzi found out where Charles and I were staying”

“What are you talking about” she frowned.

“Yeah, that makes sense” I sighed. “You asked Charles to meet here, so you could have another exclusive for your friend. You only needed a picture with Charles and then you could spread more lies”

I turned around and waved to the man she was looking at, and when he noticed I was looking at him, he immediately looked away hiding her phone and camera.

“Listen here, you little bitch” I said, turning around with a not so friendly smile. “I'm so done with you and your lies. You will regret doing this shit, you will regret using Charles' money for yourself, you will regret staging a pregnancy so he could give you more money. And I don't give a fuck if I ruin your reputation. Because you searched for this shit by yourself. You messed with the wrong woman, you hear me?”

“You wouldn't dare-”

“Oh, I will” I smiled, nodding. “I would do that and even more. I hope you have a good lawyer and some money saved, because this shit will cost you a lot”

She groaned and looked at me, then at her friend. With her hands clenched in fists she turned around and nearly crashed into a waitress, walking away with the eyes of every person that was in the tables.

“Your milkshake. And I found some pickles for the sandwiches we make for dinner, so I made you a sandwich of pickles and peanut butter” the waitress said, placing what I ordered in front of me. “The espresso for your friend?”

“Give it to the man in that table over there” I smiled, pointing at the table where the paparazzi was seated. “Oh, and give him the bill of this table and the ones around us. Sorry to disturb all the customers, my friend was a little… Yeah, you know what I mean”

The waitress nodded and smiled, walking towards the table and leaving the cup of espresso there as well as the small plate with the bill. I turned and smiled at the paparazzi, but the satisfaction was tinged with lingering unease. Had I gone too far? Or not far enough? My hand rested protectively on my belly, feeling the baby’s steady kicks as if grounding myself to what truly mattered. For now, I have won this battle. But the war was far from over.

“It feels so good to finally do something right” I sighed, looking at the sandwich and rubbing my belly softly.

f1_gossip

liked by dafnemorelli, pierregasly and 219.470 others

f1_gossip This afternoon a follower sent me an interesting picture that no one expected to see!

Dafne Morelli and Melanie Cooper were seen together in a cafeteria in Florence. The follower told us that Melanie was there earlier, and when Dafne showed up she looked surprised. It seems that she wasn't waiting for her but for Charles!

Our follower heard a little of the conversation, and she told us that apparently Melanie's pregnancy is fake! That she was faking it to get more money from Charles.

But we don’t want to get into conclusions until one of them doesn't confirm if it's true or not.

view all comments

dafneismymom I knew it! I knew there was something weird about her! God, so creepy.

fewawifan I never liked Melanie. So happy Dafne finally did something

sharlesfan I want to know how Dafne put her in her place! If she was as sassy as she was with Charles, it for sure was funny to watch mimi_angelo It was! Omg, I was there! Dafne was so calm, actually a little scary. But yeah, what admin says is true, Melanie was there to talk and be seen with Charles.

sharlesperceval Lol Dafne is on the likes

fewawifan and Pierre too! 😂😂

taglist

@elisysd @alltoomaples @ssprayberrythings @rach3164 @yvonne-dump @deliciousfestsalad @janeh22 @hc-dutch @ninifee1802 @kakorrhaphiphobia @ssararuffoni @itsjustkhaos @scaramou @tapedeck-hearts @sltwins @glitterquadricorn @ladystardust05 @theseerbetweenus @vizzzashley @auawdo @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp @leptitlu @green-thots @caterinemirandax_ @mid5nights @harrysdimple05 @nofingjustaninchident

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thelostboyslove-ect · 4 months ago

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Tour Mates (The Lost Boys X Fem!Reader) Chapter 1

(Hello, Hi, How ya goin. So I have been lurking in the Lost Boys fandom for over a year now and have been feral for these boys for far too long to not have an insane amount of ideas about them. So as if this movie didn't have a strong enough chokehold on me already, it led me to write my first ever fic. I have no idea if it's any good, but I hope someone out there at least enjoys the vision. This will be multiple chapters cause I can't shut up. Behold! Whatever this is!

P.S. I know Dwayne and his actor aren’t actually 6’7. But ya girl is 5’10 and may have a small size kink and this is my fic😤So let a girl live.)

Pairing: The Lost Boys x Fem!Reader (Poly Lost Boys implied)

Work count: 1208

Warnings: Darker Fic, misogyny, sexism, allusions to sex, allusions to murder, the boys being whores. Smut in future chapters.

Summary: You had always wanted nothing more than to be in a band and share your music with the world, and you were finally on your way to doing so. If only your band was big enough to do it alone.

You had always wanted to be a musician. Always. Ever since you could remember. From a child when you would sit and listen to whatever music your dad loved, making you guess titles and quiz you on the bands. From when you were a preteen and had the freedom to branch out to whole new styles of music you had never heard, buying records with what little money you could save. From when you got a guitar on your thirteenth birthday and played every moment you could after school and every chance on the weekends. From when you were fifteen and your friends made the choice to form a band. And from when you made the promise that very day that you would be the most legendary band in history.

While you were yet to be the most legendary band in history, for now, you were finally making moves. You were nowhere near Motely Crue, but you were getting somewhere. After years of writing, months upon months of being in studios, and all the savings you could muster. You finally had the money, the managers, and the following to go on tour. Your dream was coming true. If only there wasn’t one slight, incredibly frustrating, and immensely infuriating problem.

While you had the monetary ability to tour and quite the following, you weren’t quite big enough to tour on your OWN. Enter stage left the current bain of your existence—The Lost Boys. A Californian glam rock heavy metal band just starting to find their feet os so luckily at the same time as you. The band consisted of David the lead singer, a dominant man who truly embodied the idea of a frontman. Marko the bassist - the secondhand man to David as they had said themselves which had been proven multiple times with the way Marko seemed to wait on David hand and foot, never seeming to be too far behind him. Paul the lead guitarist, a wild chaotic lady’s man who always smelt of weed where it may be his erratic behavior took him. And last but DEFINITELY not least Dwayne. The drummer, an imposing 6’7 man who seemed to be made of muscle, with an intense gaze that could make anyone feel immense fear or simply melt depending on his mood.

At first, it had seemed perfect. They were nice, if not slightly flirty (aka clawing to get into your pants from the get go) and your bandmates got along brilliantly with them. You loved their music and it matched your sound really well. It was the ideal situation. That was until maybe a month into the tour. You could understand the excitement for a while, the booze, the drugs, the women, the partying. You’d be a hypocrite if you had blamed them for enjoying those things seeing as you had partaken in them yourself. But you thought that maybe after a little while that they would maybe calm down a bit. But they seemed pretty dead set on sticking to their band's slogan of sleeping all day and partying all night. Which you would respect if it wasn’t for the fact that it was impacting your ability to sleep at all, and in turn, your ability to play.

Now it was already hard being a woman in the rock industry, but being the only woman on an otherwise all-male tour? That came with a whole nother set of problems. You had been called every misogynistic name under the sun. Constantly told you couldn’t play, which your predicament was only adding fuel to the fire. Even more, you had your fair share of being told that the only reason that any of the boys kept you around on the tour, is so that they can have someone around as a backup to fuck on the nights they can't pull any groupies. A sleazy stand-in kept in reserve for desperate nights.

This is where the resentment began. You obviously didn’t care about anyone on tour sleeping around or bringing people back to the hotels, it came with the territory, and your boys did it pretty regularly. But the lost boys were seemingly insatiable. Bringing groups of fawning girls back to their (weirdly) shared hotel room every single night. Of course, this word spread and they inevitably got nothing but praise for their man whore behavior. As where you had been branded a slut for so much as picking up a guitar and being in a band. You had even only made out with one man on the entirety of the tour! The opportunity to go any further being ruined by the band in question themselves when they stumbled across you and refused to leave, glowering at the man till he took his hands off of you and left. A strange situation but nonetheless frustrating. The resentment only grew as the situation began to affect you in other ways than just your image and reputation.

When the boys would bring these girls back to their room it would always go the same. At some ridiculous hour of the morning you would hear the drunken love-struck giggles of the group of girls they had chosen for the night, followed by the strong voice of David beckoning them into the room, insisting for them to make themselves at home, to even shed a few layers to get comfortable, which would inevitably be followed by whooping and hollering from the other boys and then the music would start blaring. But no matter how loud they would blast the music you could always still hear the giggling, which would turn to moaning, which would turn to shrieking. You had to admit the first few nights, hell even to this day, it sometimes frightens you. Sometimes the screams just don’t seem as pleasurable as they should. Sometimes they are…almost blood-curdling. Like someone losing a fight for their life. But you know that’s just your imagination running wild, because just inevitably as the girls being there every night, the moaning would return. Always just the boys though, but you always imagined they had just fucked the girls out so much that they didn’t have the energy to make much noise.

These nightly occurrences would not bother you if it weren’t for the fact that while they were up and causing chaos, you were up and unable to sleep. Which for the first few weeks, was fine, but now nearing a month and a half of borderline sleepless nights due to the proclivities of your tour mates, you were starting to come undone. You didn’t have the luxury of sleeping all day, so naps in your dressing room were having to suffice and that would inevitably have an effect on your performance. You can't remember the last time you got through a show and didn’t mess up at least a segment or two from a few songs.

But after all of that what had been your final straw, was the boys being AWARE of the effects their actions had on you. They HAD to be from the way they had taunted you, teased you. The acts had become more frequent as the days went on. And ton your aggravation, harder to forget about.

#the lost boys #tlb #the lost boys x reader #david the lost boys x reader #the lost boys 1987 #tlb 1987 #paul the lost boys #marko the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #david the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys x reader #paul the lost boys x reader #marko the lost boys x reader #the lost boys x y/n #the lost boys x fem!reader

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ad0niscrow · 2 months ago

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Well well well, the time has finally come and now I can talk about my ocs. Warning: I suck at writing and English is not my first language😭

First of all who are they and where they come from? Their names are Liliana (the one with the braids) and Marina (the one with the bun). They're two Italian girls in their twenties who decided to go to Romania for a trip. Why? To enrich their lives and know a new culture.

Unfortunately, a pack of lycans attacks their carriage during the trip, killing the coachman. Since they are in the middle of the woods and can't use their phone (there's no signal) they decide to look for some help until they find the village where the game is set.

They find a shelter from Cezar, an old, grumpy villager who lives a few minutes away from the village. Despite his "availability", he will let the girls stay if only they work for him. They don't get along really well with Cezar... especially Liliana, who doesn't like his bigoted ideas and his attachment towards Marina. Unfortunately, he's the only one willing to help them, since the rest of the village hates foreigners.

One day, the two girls go out for a walk in the woods, looking for some food. This will be the last time Cezar sees them; they'll disappear and nobody will ever see them again. By thinking they have left the country, Cezar won't look for them.

Time passes and after some months they return... but they look different: paler, their clothes are now rags, their bodies aching. What happen to them? Only they know that and they certainly don't like to talk about it.

They started to live like homelesses: everybody despises them. They're just scum.

Liliana hates the village. On the contrary, Marina still thinks that there's something good in it, such as a group of teens who befriends her. Especially a young boy, Romel, who falls in love with her. On the other hand there's Liliana, who trusts no one and is overprotective with her.

One sunny day, the two girls and Romel decide to take a stroll in the woods. As they walk deeper and deeper in the thick forest, Romel is worried for a possible danger but the other two want to continue due to their curiosity. They don't know that they're in the Dimitrescu's territory AND that it's a great day for a hunt :)

The three of them climb a hill and yeah... hidden in the shadow there's someone waiting for them.

Long story short, the two girls get caught by the sisters while Romel manages to escape.

Luckily for them, they're spared and, after meeting Alcina, they become part of the staff.

What really intrigues the lady of the castle is their lack of fear and their courage. I have to specify that Marina seems the only one afraid at beginning, however she's not scared to die, she's only worried for her friends safety.

Anyway, Marina immediately gets along well the lady and will fall for her. Meanwhile Liliana befriends Daniela and then (sloooowly) Cassandra and Bela.

That's it for now guys! Unfortunately, mrs. Artblock has gently knocked on my door. That's why I haven't drew much lately. You're free to ask me whatever you want if you have questions and maybe I'll make a Dimitrescu/Ocs Q&A in the future.

#art #my art #artists on tumblr #re8 #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #ocs #oc #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu

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changingplumbob · 1 month ago

Text

How will the Yorks react to my plan to host a bachelorette challenge?

Deanna - Potential bachelorette Joey - Deanna's aromantic yet allosexual older brother Artemisia - Deanna's younger sister, has the evil trait Devin - 2 time Starlight Accolade winner for her acting career and Deanna's older sister Luna - Devin's wife, Deanna's sister in law Aaron - Deanna's pa (father) Calista - Deanna's ma (mother) Alfred & Rilian Villareal - Deanna's nephews

Joey: I assume you all know why I have gathered you here this evening

Artemisia: You contracted a WTD

Joey: What? No, we don't have the mods

Aaron: Look if you got someone pregnant we don't need all these theatrics

Devin: Excuse me pa? We always need theatrics

Joey: I didn't get anyone pregnant. This isn't about me, it's about Deanna

Deanna: Very funny

Joey: The watcher and I have decided you should star in a bachelorette challenge

Luna: Oh I love watching those! They're so romantic

Devin: Oh can I host? Please let me host!

Aaron: Cara your sister hasn't said yes to it

Joey: Let me give you my pitch. Tartosa is a perfect background for love. We invite a dozen or so ladies to come and get to know you Deanna, really know you. I think it could be a happily ever after for you

Deanna: I have university Joey

Devin: You have time between terms right? Oh please say yes De, my friend Norah would love to come help direct

Deanna: Aren't these things normally rather straight coded

Joey: In some dimensions, yes. But we live in a great world where homophobia is next to non existent

Devin: Except for Luna's dad, but he's not here now so its fine

Alfred & Rilian: RIP Jacques

Luna: *laughing* Wait- When did they learn to do that?

Artemisia: Ahhhh, Joey was talking

Joey: The point is we, the watcher and I, are bound to be able to find some women or non binary individuals who fit your tastes De. And we can get some family based challenges for them to compete in for extra time with you. Or get other celebrities or local businesses to feature

Calista: Oh we should ask the owners of Postres de Alegría! Maybe then I'll actually be able to get some of their pastries when I show up

Aaron: Tesoro you know if you want the raspberry tart you have to get there before midday. They can't not sell just because you might feel like a treat after your shift

Joey: If not Bob could help out, or he might know some people in Brindleton Bay who have niche interests we could use for a challenge or two

Aaron: I don't know that I like the idea of one of my bambina's pixel parts being on TV

Deanna: Yeah I second that opinion

Joey: We won't actually show any nudity, relax. Now Devin you can be host but I will obviously need to talk to any other watchers. Our watcher thinks it would be fun if they had some input about what skills their contestants would work on. If they don't she'll still need to know like orientations and official stuff

Luna: *sighs* Now you believe in multiple watchers?

Aaron: Joey has just always been rather devout

Deanna: I guess I am single...

Joey: You are

Deanna: And I'm definitely over Paris

Joey: Yes

Deanna: Reece will have to be allowed to do something or he'll pout

Joey: I can sort something. So, will you do it?

Deanna: Sure. I mean who doesn't want true love right?

I'm going to do it *internal screaming*! I'm going to start working on an intro post and some graphics so people know what the submissions need. Submissions will be open until Christmas but I'll push it out a week if needed. Ideally I would love to have households of six at a time, so I'll put slots up in groups of six as people show interest. I don't want to start off with 12 or 18 etc slots if I'll only get four sims. I'm realising a lot of my planning will need to know how many sims there are so I'll be opening up soon to help my brain.

Introductions, hosted by Devin, won't begin until mid January when most people are back from New Years holidays. So yeah, I was actually so nervous writing this all out, I need to calm down. Here's some basic Deanna info I'll put elsewhere to get the cogs in brains turning. This third child of an Italian family is studying physics with hopes of being an engineer but her main aspiration in life is Mansion Baron. She's a lesbian but I checked in game and sims with that orientation are able to flirt/form romantic attachments to non-binary people as well as cis or trans females.

#help I'm actually super nervous #Which is good because do something every day that scares you right #I hope at least six people will submit sims #The cat has come to sit on me to tell me to calm down #Also might push back the start if Hayley isn't finished #Because her Lilac BC is great #And has sheep

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thisgirlnamedblusy · 5 months ago

Note

Hi there!! I’ve been following you for a long time and love your work with Donna 🥰 if it’s alright I would like to request something! G!PDonna happens upon Fem!reader’s diary and glances through it. Discovering there are both wholesome and lewd entries of the Doll maker, but she’s too intimidated and shy of Donna to make a move?? And it catches Donna of guard so much because reader hardly interacts with her?? But she also experiments and teases reader trying to make her confess?? Ahhhh 🙈

Yesss!!!! Thank you for your words!!! And for your requests!!!! Your support always make my day!!! I hope you like ir and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :))))

Dear diary

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem, Maid! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, Minors DNI, Donna's POV, Donna being Donna

Word count: 7,623

Summary: What is she writing on that book?...

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

Another day.

The mere fact of the passage of time always seemed somewhat confusing to me. If I had to think about how much time has passed, how many times I have seen the sun rise and set, I couldn't do it, I simply couldn't.

Mother Miranda was merciful to me, she saved me, but I can't help but think what would have happened if she hadn't, what I would have become.

Like every morning, darkness envelops me ironically in my bedroom, as if everything around me reminded me where I am and why I am there.

None of that mattered enough to me to let my demons take control of my actions. I've been through that and now I only have to continue living, continue being part of the village, dominate it with my siblings.

Envy was never among my sins, no matter how suspicious I felt about the attitude of my sister Alcina, always surrounded by servants, always adored by them unconditionally.

No, I refuse to think that my decision to have a maid came because I looked with desire at my sister's situation. She lived in a castle and I lived in my lonely darkness.

Maybe I thought this world of shadows, my little, intimate and quiet world needed a change. Maybe with someone around me I could feel that time was actually passing, that I was not a simple ghostly presence, that I really existed.

That shamefully common delusion in my damaged mind was chasing me for days, that idea of having someone who was not me, who was not my monstrous reflection in the mirror.

Luckily those subtle pleas became verbalized and, after talking about it with my sister, she offered me her most recent acquisition, (Y/N).

A quiet girl, perfect for me, according to Alcina.

Since that girl came to my house, few things changed. My sister was right. She was quiet, shy but helpful. I could spend hours watching the cobwebs in the house disappear under her skillful movements, I could spend an eternity listening to her sweet humming when she thinks I'm not there.

Yes, I may have been obsessed with her at first. She was a beautiful young woman, with a smile that reached even the darkest corner of my room. Her shy and sweet attitude made me feel things I had forgotten, things I only saw as entertainment or a need for my body.

But as much as I wanted to know how her lips felt on mine, how it would feel to have her naked body under mine, I couldn't just do it. I was still a deformed monster, everything had changed since my adoption, too many things.

After fighting my instincts for weeks, I decided to relax. I couldn't scare her, I couldn't exercise that power Alcina had over her maids. I wasn't Alcina, I was a monster and (Y/N)… (Y/N) was an angel.

Although she didn't run away when she saw my face, although my appearance didn't stir her stomach, I spent time putting aside the demons that forced me to act, letting that sudden obsession fade away like a light perfume you get used to after a while, an intoxicating perfume.

“Good morning, my lady,” she said in a soft voice when I went up the elevator, ready to spend a new day.

I nodded with a half smile, with that veiled smile that characterized me. At least she didn't run away when she saw me. That was always a pleasure. It always made me want to widen my smile.

“Good morning, (Y/N),” I whispered in a low tone, one that only she could hear. Maybe my obsession had disappeared, but not my desire to have her near me, my desire to see that kind smile on her face.

The girl cleared her throat and turned around, walking elegantly towards the table, where breakfast was waiting for me as every morning. A magnificent breakfast, one prepared by her.

“I, I hope you slept well,” she said kindly, accommodating me in the chair. Her body was shaking, revealing her inexhaustible shyness, her nervousness. I hoped it was just that, shyness, and not fear, anything but fear.

“Mm,” I murmured, nodding, pouring myself some of that disastrous coffee she always prepared.

Of course, my involuntary grimace of disgust didn’t go unnoticed by her, who suddenly began to tremble more intensely.

“I'm, I'm sorry, my lady, the coffee is…” she said with a broken voice, snatching the cup from my hand. I looked at her inquisitively, frowning.

“It's okay,” I said in a whisper, picking up the small cup again.

Her eyes closed, as they always did when she got nervous.

“I'm sorry, I…” (Y/N) apologized again, her cheeks flushed, intimidated by my presence.

I shouldn't be surprised at all, I was a monster and she was just a little lamb.

“You’ve pressed the coffee,” I stated, glancing at the old coffee maker, checking, once again, that she made the same mistake.

“Yes, I…” she stammered, avoiding looking at me in the eye, avoiding our gazes meeting.

“You mustn't do it, (Y/N). This coffee maker doesn't work that way. If you press the coffee, it becomes clumpy and generates too much bitterness,” I explained with a calm voice, with an expression that didn’t betray how beautiful she seemed to me, how comfortable I felt by her side.

“I'm, I'm, I'm so sorry, Lady Beneviento, it, it, it won't happen again,” she said, lowering her head, clasping her hands in front of her body in a pleading manner.

I smiled and shook my head. The young woman's nervousness could be sensed from miles away. I didn't want to see her nervous, but I was still Donna Beneviento, a crazy and dangerous woman. I couldn't blame her for feeling that way.

“I'm not scolding you,” I said, looking away and taking another sip of the bitter liquid, sighing, desperate to stop causing that feeling of terror in her. “It's just a piece of advice.”

She opened her eyes and raised her gaze to mine, nodding as she swallowed; her trembling diminishing little by little.

“Thank, thank you for the advice,” she said in a broken voice, the words not wanting to leave her lips.

I nodded passively, looking back at that splendid breakfast.

“Calmati, (Y/N)…” -I whispered, blowing the smoke coming out of the cup, controlling the trembling of my own body, my own nerves. “I didn't hire you for your ability to prepare coffee.”

“So… Why did you hire me, my lady?” she asked back.

Well, that was new, that girl didn't usually question me. I couldn't help but feel annoyed about it. I was supposed to be a Lord. I made the questions, not her.

I had to take a moment for my irrational fury to fade away. No, she couldn't suffer my delusions.

“I don't know,” I whispered, shaking my head and hardening my expression. “Why do you think I did it?”

She laughed nervously, looking away again, searching with her erratic eyes for an answer, something to say to my unexpected question, one I used to not to say what I thought of her, that her beauty calmed my darkness.

“I... Don’t...” she murmured, breathing heavily, playing with her hands shiny with nervous sweat.

I laughed, shaking my head, releasing the young woman from that slightly uncomfortable question. I didn't want to see her tremble. I didn't want to see her being afraid of me.

“I've taken up too much of your time, (Y/N). I'm sure you have a lot of things to do,” I said with a calm voice, enjoying the bitter taste of the coffee, of her coffee.

“Yes, my lady,” she nodded in relief, with a wider smile, wanting to get rid of my presence. Once again, I couldn't blame her, I'm a monster. “Thank you, my lady.”

“Prego,” I whispered, looking away, listening to her footsteps slowly moving away, surely looking for something to do, something that would take her away from me.

But I couldn't have a quiet breakfast. Some steps on the wood alerted. My conscience had something to say, or rather, something to make fun of.

“Donna likes the maid,” Angie sang, my doll, the only one who was always by my side, the only one I could trust. Unfortunately, she was part of me. She knew my thoughts, my feelings. I don't know why she was so rebellious, so... Angie.

“Shut up,” I hissed when the puppet climbed onto my lap, enunciating a truth that I was unable to verbalize. “Of course I like her.”

“Why don't you tell her, silly Donna?” the doll asked, ready to annoy me, to not let me enjoy the peace left by the fleeting presence of (Y/N).

“You know why, it's absurd,” I answered, spreading oil on the perfect toasts that she prepared every morning. The coffee was a disaster, but those toasts...

“It's not absurd, you are her owner,” Angie said.

I got nervous, looking around in case she appeared, in case she heard the horrible statement that showed my power over her, the involuntary submission I didn't want her to have.

“I don't want her to think that way about me. I don't want to scare her, Angie,” I explained in a whisper.

The doll tilted her head comically and got off my lap, crossing her arms.

“Coward,” she scolded me, which made me clench my teeth tightly, and start to consider deactivating her, at least for a while.

“Angie…” I muttered, rolling my eye, letting the air out of my lungs with a sigh. No, I couldn't agree with her, even though she definitely was right.

“Stop the nonsense and tell her what you feel,” the puppet said, making grotesque movements with her wooden limbs.

“You know I can't,” I protested, abruptly leaving the coffee cup on the table, causing everything to move dangerously and make an annoying noise.

“Fine, fine, whatever you want, silly Donna,” Angie said passively, moving away from me. “By the way, how's your right hand? One night you'll end up making fire…”

I, faced with this shameful comment, abruptly got up from the table, grabbing the puppet and shaking it furiously in my hands, with my cheeks flushed by this very intimate and personal accusation.

“Don’t dare to…” I hissed threateningly, my body shaking with embarrassment.

The doll laughed in my arms, with that sinister laugh that she surely learned from the deepest darkness of my mind.

“Don't touch me with that hand, you sick masturbator,” the puppet protested, making the anger on my face more evident, causing a furious growl from the back of my throat.

“Shut up, damn it,” I hissed, about to deactivate the annoying Angie definitely.

“My lady, I’ve heard a noise, is everything okay?” (Y/N)'s voice stopped me in my action, I froze and lowered the puppet to the floor.

“Yes, everything is fine,” I said in a whisper, with the triumphant Angie cowardly running away from me.

“I, um, do, do you need something?” she asked, approaching me slowly, surely frightened by the trembling of my body. “Are you having a crisis?”

“No,” I answered abruptly, letting myself fall back into the chair, with my senses clouded by nerves, by rage at the accusations of that irreverent part of my conscience.

“Are you sure?” she insisted, approaching cautiously and putting her hand on my shoulder. I looked at her quickly and she pulled it away, frightened. Always the same, I always ended up scaring her. “I'm sorry,” she apologized, moving away again, with terror marking her features.

“Don't you have to clean? Lasciami stare,” I growled abruptly, unpleasantly.

(Y/N) nodded embarrassed, with a pitiful sigh, disappearing from the room, fleeing from my irrational fury, from my uncontrollable demons.

“Wait, I…” I suddenly said, standing up to stop her escape, to apologize for my unfair attitude. I couldn't do it. My voice was too low and my attempt too pathetic. “I didn't want to…”

A pathetic monster, that was me.

I sighed, sitting back down, running a hand over my forehead, burying my head in my hands, gripping my hair tightly, furious for not being able to keep calm, for unintentionally causing fear in the young woman. She could never love me, not the way I am. Maybe I had to stop fooling myself and let her go before I lost control.

“Cazzo…” I muttered, hitting the table with my closed fist, furious, frustrated for not being able to control myself. I couldn't blame Angie, she was me, I was her.

“Hey, hey, Donna, did you see it?” the doll asked, tugging at my dress to get my attention.

I shook my head confused by that question.

“What? The way I scare her again? Great job Angie,” I said, angrily destroying one of the toasts.

“No, silly, silly, the book, the book she was carrying in her hand,” the doll said, climbing onto the table and threatening to destroy my breakfast.

“What book? What are you talking about?” I asked confused, moving the puppet away from the tray and the coffee pot, avoiding causing more problems for (Y/N).

“The book (Y/N) always carries with her, silly,” Angie explained, letting herself fall on the table, swinging her legs like a little girl, like me when I was a little girl and I wasn't… A monster.

“A book,” I repeated, crossing my arms, nervous about how mysterious that damn puppet always was.

I wonder what I would be like if I had her personality…

“Yes, yes, a secret book, or so it seems,” she whispered, approaching me in an annoying way.

I laughed ironically, disappointed by that absurd conversation.

“I told (Y/N) that she could read whatever books she wanted, I don't know what's so mysterious about that,” I commented, letting the oil soak the lightly toasted bread, concentrating on it and not on my unfair outburst with (Y/N).

“Are you stupid?” Angie asked, annoyed, slapping me and making me furious again.

“You're one step away from me deactivating you and putting you with the others, Angie,” I threatened with a frown, my chest burning with helplessness. I knew I would be incapable of doing it.

“Do it if you want,” she answered haughtily. “But then I won't tell you what I know...”

“What do you know?” I asked curiously, thus blurring the desire I had to make my faithful companion disappear.

“Apologize and I'll tell you,” Angie said, turning her back on me. Damn evil doll.

“Angie…” I hissed nervously.

“Okay, okay… Listen, do you know why I think that book is important?”

“No, I don't know,” I answered through clenched teeth, watching my surroundings. “Speak.”

“The other night I was watching (Y/N) and then…” the puppet began, with a mockingly mysterious tone. “I saw her writing something on it.”

“Really?” I asked, now interested in that information. “What was she writing?”

“No idea, but it seemed like secret things,” the doll said, getting down from the table and saying goodbye with an unpleasant gesture. “You're welcome for the information, silly Donna.”

I remained thoughtful, sighing. As I already knew, that information was not relevant at all. (Y/N) writing in a book, what nonsense, surely it was not important, was it?

The day continued to pass calmly, silently, terribly lonely.

I didn't see (Y/N) until late afternoon, probably still scared, because of me.

Not even working on my dolls could calm my nerves. All I thought about was her, how I scared her, how much she probably wanted to go back to the castle. Of all the monsters in the village, I was the worst, and she was starting to realize it.

I decided to distract myself with an old essay on plants, in the quiet living room, hoping that, by chance, she would appear. Luckily, she did.

“Here’s your tea, my lady,” she said in a whisper, trying not to disturb my concentration, leaving a steaming cup on the desk. I couldn't help but smile.

“You're always so punctual, (Y/N),” I said, glancing at the clock out of the corner of my eye.

It didn't matter where I was, she always found me, made me that tea, looked for me, gave it to me with that smile. I don't know when I started losing my mind…

“Yes, well, I always finish my chores at this time, I’m pleased to serve you, to make you a, a tea” she said in a kind voice, stuttering as usual.

I smiled kindly, but my face relaxed when I looked lower, at (Y/N)'s hands, which were holding the book Angie mentioned. I frowned discreetly, trying to see what was written on the cover.

“What have you been doing? I haven't seen you,” I commented erratically, just to keep her by my side a little longer, just a little longer.

“I've been cleaning the upstairs, my lady,” she explained in an elegant, helpful voice. I wondered if Alcina also found that voice terribly sexy.

“Donna,” I said, looking away. Yes, I hated that charming formality.

“Sorry?” she asked confused, scratching the back of her neck, holding that book tightly in her hand.

“Call me Donna, please,” I said with an indifferent tone, pretending to read the pages of that essay “Unless it makes you uncomfortable.”

“No, no, it doesn’t make me uncomfortable, Donna,” (Y/N) said, with a calm face, with a shy smile that I returned. “I… I have to, I have to go prepare dinner.”

“Why are you such in a hurry?” I asked confused by that new attempt to escape. This time I hadn't done anything to scare her, besides, I had to know what was written in that damn book. “I'm sure you're exhausted.”

“We, well, the truth is that the dust fluff that was upstairs has made it a little difficult for me… I even had to fight against it,” she said with a broken voice, embarrassed, laughing shyly.

I looked at her with a frown at that tender attempt at joking.

“I’m sorry, I was trying to…” she apologized seconds later. I laughed softly, shaking my head.

“Joking, I know, that’s fine,” I said between laughs, with a casual pose, turning a little to have a better view of that book. “I like you’re funny.”

“I’d like to be too,” she said jokingly, shaking her head, her smile widening as well as the blush on her cheeks.

There was a brief moment when our gazes met, when our smiles greeted each other, but that quickly faded. I had probably imagined it.

“Don’t worry about dinner, go take a bath first,” I murmured, quickly returning to my book, not letting the light of her smile reveal my feelings.

Another erratic mood swing, my life was a nightmare.

“Oh, I…” the maid stammered, playing with the book in her hands, lowering her head in an elegant bow. “Yes, of course, thank you… Donna.”

I nodded disinterestedly as she walked away again, but not before leaving that mysterious book hidden under one of the cushions of the old sofa. Surely she didn't think I was discreetly watching her. Angie was definitely right.

When (Y/N) went upstairs to take a bath, as I suggested, I stood up slowly, my gaze fixed on the sofa, always alert in case she came down again. She didn't, Angie wasn't around either, it was my chance.

I lifted the cushion and found that precious book. Oh, no, it wasn't a book, on the cover worn by the passage of time there was only one word: Diary.

“Interessante…” I murmured, flipping through the pages at random, sitting on the couch, always watching the door, adrenaline running through my veins as I did something I shouldn't. It was funny, really.

Dear diary:

This morning I stole a cookie from Mom and she caught me. She grounded me from seeing my friends, that's unfair, I want to play with them, especially with Katia, she's my best friend, and the one who gave me the idea of stealing the cookies. Maybe if I pray to the Black Gods my mother will be nice to me…

“Oh, wow, you were mischievous, huh?” I commented amused, reading that childish writing, (Y/N)'s private thoughts. Laughing, I turned more pages of that small book, watching how time passed through her writing as well.

One of the dates caught my attention, it was the date she arrived at the estate. Looking around, checking that (Y/N) wasn't there, I dove back into her thoughts.

Dear Diary:

Today was my first day at the Beneviento estate. I was scared, because I had heard terrible things about Lady Beneviento. My lady told me that I would have to go there and stay with her. I was really scared. They said she was crazy, that she was very dangerous and that I could experience my worst fears. But none of that seemed true. Lady Donna is a shy and mysterious woman, but she is kind, she hasn't hurt me.

I wonder if that beautiful woman in the portrait is her, I wonder why in the village they say she is a monster.

“You weren't wrong...” I sighed, turning the pages with a melancholic air. Once again, as always, I couldn't blame her.

The entries in that diary traveled through the pages, my eye scanned them with curiosity. Nothing particularly interesting, nothing until the day came when she accidentally saw my face, a horrible day that just remembering it makes me shiver.

Dear Diary:

Lady Donna had a terrible nervous breakdown. She screamed that someone was after her, that they wanted to hurt her. I tried to help her, I really tried. To see such an imposing woman suffer like that made me feel sorry about her.

Thanks to my help, Lady Donna recovered from her fears, from her trembling. I don't know why, but I felt terribly bad seeing her in that state. But the most curious thing of all is that finally that black veil disappeared, and I was able to see her face. She is... How can I explain it, maybe the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life? I don't know, dear diary, I don't know why she covered herself

She is beautiful, that scar doesn't hide her beauty. I can't stop thinking about her...

“Beautiful?” I said with a frown, my heart racing at those words, at that opinion so impossible for me. No, she should be wrong.

But the one who was wrong, without a doubt, was me. One by one I turned the pages of that old diary and, more and more frequently, the beauty she saw in me appeared in them. It seemed that I occupied her mind, her world, that she couldn't stop thinking about me.

Maybe my madness had made me imagine that those words were true, that when (Y/N) said she trembled when she saw me it was because she felt something, anything for me, and not out of fear.

I had a hard time believing it, I really had.

Dear Diary:

I keep thinking about Donna. All day, all night, even when she's not here, her figure appears in front of me like a dream, a wonderful one. I know it's crazy, I know I shouldn't feel this way. She's a Lord, she's powerful, dangerous. If she finds out I'm attracted to her, I don't know what the consequences might be. I'm afraid I'll feel more things than I already do, I'm afraid I won't be able to stop smiling when I see her appear in the morning.

“Are you attracted to me?” I repeated incredulously, reading that entry over and over again, uncovering my maid’s deepest feelings, uncovering a truth hidden as well as a bat in the dark.

I shook my head, blinking in confusion, searching for an excuse, something to tell me that what was in that book was just an illusion.

Dear Diary:

I did something horrible today.

I was cleaning the basement, as usual, and the sound of running water caught my attention. I knew it was her, it couldn't be anyone else, Donna was taking a shower and I, absorbed in my sick attraction, approached the source of the sound.

There she was, her body exposed, her pale skin letting me look at it through a crack. She is perfect. I have no other word to describe her. Her figure, her waist, her breasts, her... Well, everything, everything was perfect. That torrid vision of my lady has destabilized me even more.

I can't stop imagining her naked body against mine. I can't stop thinking about how her perfect penis would feel inside of me. I’m very excited and wanting to make me enjoy myself. But she is still my mistress, I cannot feel those things for her, I’m still intimidated by her presence, by her beauty…

Help me, Black Gods, I’m going crazy, I think I’m falling in love.

“Mamma mia,” I sighed, blushing, slamming the book shut, nervous about the words I had just read, with a sinister smile on my face.

I should have felt ashamed of having been spied on, but quite the opposite. My body had read those words and reacted accordingly. I ignored it, as I always did, focusing on that last sentence, on that confession she never dared to make, on the confession about her feeling the same as me. She loved me.

“Well, well…” a shrill voice murmured, startling me. I don't know when Angie appeared perched on my shoulder, reading those obscene and intriguing words next to me.

“Angie!” I shouted, scared and furious. No, not her… “How long have you been there?”

“Long enough,” she mocked, fleeing from my hands which were trying to reach her. “Perfect penis, huh?”

“Shut up,” I growled, blushing again. “You're always thinking about…”

“That's what you're thinking, silly Donna. Don't blame me for having to put up with your dirty mind,” the doll defended herself.

Unfortunately, I couldn't say anything against that attack. My own lascivious thoughts gave me away again. I simply crossed my arms with a sigh.

“So she… She has feelings for me,”-I murmured, running my hand through my hair, across my sweaty forehead, confused, disoriented, wondering when I would wake up from that dream.

“It seems so,” Angie said, dropping onto the couch.

“Why hasn't she told me?” I asked myself, reading (Y/N)'s praises of me over and over again, the desire she had to kiss my lips, to have my hands grabbing her waist.

“Why haven't you told her?” Angie asked back. I have to admit that sometimes she is too caustic, or am I?

“You know, because… Because she is my maid and I… Well, I’m her mistress…. She could confuse my intentions and… I could scare her,” I explained with a sad voice, running my hands through those private pages, through (Y/N)'s thoughts I read without permission.

“Maybe she thinks the same way,” the puppet commented, swinging her legs again.

“What do you mean?” I asked curiously.

“Oh, please, you know, you've read it…” Angie murmured, also watching her surroundings. “You intimidate her, Donna, when she's around you she's a shaking mess. She probably thinks you'd never have feelings for her.”

“But, but (Y/N) has never, I mean, never… Interacted with me beyond her duties, she's never shown that interest she claims to have on me,” I said, pointing at the book.

Angie growled and climbed up my body, hitting my head in an annoying way.

“Knock, knock, is anyone there?” she asked mockingly. I pushed her away with an angry slap. “Wake up, Donna.”

“You're taking too many liberties,” I whispered threateningly, receiving a mocking laugh as an answer, as expected. “Stop laughing at me, and help me.”

“Help yourself, silly Donna. What you have to do is make the first move, tease her, you know, bring out that seductive side of you,” the doll explained.

I shook my head laughing tiredly.

“I don't have that side,” I said amused, reading the words of that diary again.

“Well, if you want her to react, you have to do it yourself,” Angie demanded.

You have to do it yourself

It seemed crazy, but deep down, I knew that, Angie, that talking conscience was right. The question was simple, how?

The sound of the stairs put me on alert and, nervous, I put the diary away, getting up from the sofa and maintaining a concealed pose that would surely be ridiculous.

“Donna?” the maid asked when she saw me moving in place, with a fake smile, too close to the secret hiding place.

“Ciao, (Y/N), I was, I was waiting for you,” I said with a slightly more confident voice, clumsily trying to be seductive, something that, of course, didn't work.

“Were you waiting for me?” she asked, moving her wet hair, with a sparkle in her eyes that I hadn't noticed until that moment.

“Yes, sure, I, I like waiting for you,” I said awkwardly, closing my eye in embarrassment and clearing my throat. “I mean, I'm, I'm hungry.”

“Oh, I…” (Y/N) sighed, with a disappointment in her voice that I was now able to notice. “I'm sorry, I spent too much time in the bathtub,” she apologized with a strange blush on her cheeks.

No, I really didn't want to think about what she was doing, what she was thinking about. I regretted having read her diary.

“Don’t, don't apologize, a hot bath can be restorative, don't you think?” I said in a lower voice, gaining confidence from nowhere, following Angie's erratic advice.

Slowly, I approached her, who smiled nervously, unable to look me in the face.

“Yes, of course,” she said in a small voice, with the same tone she used when she was nervous, when she was near me. The perfume she emanated was much more intense.

“I would never forgive myself if such a beautiful skin was damaged by overwork,” I whispered shamelessly, approaching her ear, running the back of my hand over the exposed skin of her arms. Her breathing became agitated, her body didn’t reject my touch, she simply trembled more intensely.

“Donna, I…” she sighed, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her skin bristling at my touch. “I'm going to make dinner right away,” she said abruptly, cowardly fleeing from my proximity.

I laughed incredulously, as Angie's shameless strategy had worked.

I had managed to get her gaze focused on me, my skin to brush against hers, a bit of those secret feelings to be reflected on her face.

It wasn't such a bad idea, after all. I'd have to keep trying.

Day after day my closeness to (Y/N) increased considerably. It didn't matter where she was, dusting, washing dishes... My presence always haunted her. My whispers filled her ears with soft words, words she didn't understand, highlighting her beauty, the grace of her existence, what she meant to me.

Approaching her from behind to guide her hands while she cooked, showing her how to prepare coffee properly, placing strands of her hair behind her ear… They were experimental strategies to make her nervous, to take away the fear she had of me, the authoritarian and intimidating figure she saw in me.

But my efforts, my provocations, my constant teasing had no effect beyond her erratic trembling, the sweat running down her forehead or the blush on her cheeks accompanied by a nervous laugh.

I began to get frustrated again, to secretly read again the pages of her diary that revealed her nerves were at their highest limit and that approach, that subtle touch of my skin, of my words in her ears, only increased the fierceness of her feelings, and her desire.

“Do you know how to do a manicure?” I asked one cloudy afternoon, a boring afternoon in which I interrupted (Y/N) in her free time reading or writing, the diary peeking out subtly from a boring book on Romanian flora and fauna.

“Oh, Donna, yes, of course, I was used to doing it for Lady Dimitrescu,” -she explained, hiding the diary under the sofa in an awkward manner, with an innocent smile that hid her not so innocent thoughts.

Hearing my sister's name filled me with jealousy, but I soon learned to control it. I didn't want to scare her. I didn't want her to see that I really was a monster, that I wanted her just for me.

“To work on my dolls destroys my nails, I was wondering if you would be so kind as to...” I said, looking at my hands with disinterest, walking towards the sofa. She suddenly stood up, making a ridiculous bow and escaping from my presence. “Where are you going?”

“Sit, sit down, I'll be right back,” she said nervously, running upstairs, surely to get the stuff for that manicure I asked her for.

With a delicacy that was hard to believe, she worked on my nails, fixing the mess that the work in the workshop caused. Her warm hands studied mine and her gaze finally had an excuse not to be fixed on mine. She seemed concentrated, but she couldn't help the sweat on her forehead giving her away.

“You have beautiful hands,” she said quietly, playing with my fingers, with a tender smile, as if that moment relaxed her, as if she was starting to feel comfortable with my presence.

Time to act.

I smiled the same way, letting her fingers caress me, letting her take advantage of that moment to touch the skin she so longed to feel, or so she said in her diary.

“Thank you, (Y/N),” I whispered, nodding kindly, searching with my free hand for hers, indiscreetly playing with interlacing our fingers. “Yours aren't bad either.”

“That's not true,” she sighed, searching in a case for the nail polish I asked for, black like the darkness that always surrounded me. “I've spent a lot of time cleaning.”

“Nonsense, they're soft…” I said disinterestedly, playing with her hand, caressing the rough surface due to her hard work. She gasped in surprise, pretending to cough, pretending that her skin wasn't suffering from shivers.

“You're very kind, my lady,” she said nervously, uncapping the nail polish and moving her hand away from my caresses.

“My lady?” I said amused, tilting my head inquisitively. She smiled, closing her eyes and shaking her head.

“Donna,” she corrected, with a shy smile, with the red of her cheeks contrasting harmoniously with her skin.

“That's better,” I said, satisfied, dragging out the words and making myself more comfortable in front of her, relaxing my body on the sofa.

“Don't, don't move,” she asked me in an almost imperceptible voice, as if she didn't want to give orders to me. Maybe my strategy hadn't worked as well as I thought.

“I won't,” I whispered with a reassuring smile, while (Y/N) brought the small brush to my hand. She couldn't stop shaking.

Abruptly, I grabbed her wrist firmly before she started with her task.

“You're shaking, (Y/N),” I said with a bit of cockiness, with a dangerous look, with a dark glint that was surely piercing her soul.

“I'm, I'm sorry, it's just that...” she murmured, breathing deeply to try to calm down, something she didn't manage to do.

“I want you to paint my nails, not my hand,” I joked, without letting the young woman's wrist go. (Y/N) was beginning to thrash around, looking with her eyes for a place to escape.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,” she apologized again, when I finally let her wrist go. I was beginning to feel sorry for her, but the truth was that I was very tired of waiting, very tired of that submissive attitude.

She was mine, but I didn't want her to see it that way, I wanted her to feel comfortable.

“You're nervous, why?” I asked in a soft, unexpectedly seductive tone.

She shook her head, opening her mouth to speak, but regretting it immediately.

“I, I don't know.”

Liar...

“Relax,” I whispered, getting a little closer, feeling that my prey was cornered, that she couldn't, that she didn't want to escape.

It may have been a lack of manners, of subtlety, but my love, my desire, my desire to make her mine overcame me without wanting to after whole days of teasing, of getting closer, of having her so close, of trying to bring her heart closer to mine.

My hand wandered curiously over her bare leg, caressing her skin with a relaxing rhythm, totally different from her breathing, which quickened in a moment.

“Does this relax you?” I asked, without taking my hand off her leg, off her addictive skin.

(Y/N) didn’t know how to react, what to say to my shameless touch. She had been nervous for days too, I know, I read it.

“N, no,” she murmured, shaking her head, looking at me with bright, confused, disoriented eyes. Despite her refusal, I didn’t stop, studying her gaze with a serious expression. “But, but… I don’t want to relax.”

My mouth sketched a smile. I didn’t want to talk, I didn’t want to say anything, to revel in that small victory, no, her skin was my main point of attention, my hand passing under her dress, conquering that desired terrain.

Her breathing guided my movements, my gaze focused on hers, hers focused on my hand, on that bottle of nail polish that I gently snatched from her, with an intense, serious but kind look, as kind as a monster like me could be.

“Donna…” she sighed, swallowing and moving at my upward touch, when my hand was already brushing the wet fabric of her underwear. I couldn't help but smile. The situation was as exciting for her as it was for me.

“What, tesoro?” I asked, speaking to her trembling ear, caressing her lustful crotch, already wet with my soft touch. “Do you want to tell me something?”

“I… I… Ah…” (Y/N) couldn't speak clearly, my fingers ran over her folds through that annoying fabric, making her voice betray her with a moan of surprise while her other hand grabbed the fabric of the sofa as if she wanted to tear it off.

“Shh, relax…” I said again in her ear, softly kissing her earlobe while my soft caresses intensified at the point of greatest pleasure, at that point almost made her jump. “Tell me, how long do you plan to keep hiding it from me?”

(Y/N) moved nervously, opening her eyes wide, but without rejecting my touch, without letting my fingers leave the wet patch of her underwear.

“Donna, I…” she murmured, alternating gasps with moans when my impudence exceeded my own limits, moving the fabric aside, sinking into her wetness, running through her folds, playing with her clit. “I, I don't know what… Oh…”

“Oh, yes, yes you do, honey…” I whispered amused, leaning towards her, playing with my fingers at her eager entrance, causing a subtle but perceptible movement of her hips.

“I, I really don't know what...” she stammered, confused by the pleasure, by feeling my fingers playing with her most private area, just playing.

I just wanted to hear her confess, to give me permission to take what was already mine. Just a few words from her...

“You should be more careful with how you hide your personal stuff,” I murmured amused, releasing her from my touch and taking the diary out.”

Her face turned red, almost black red, her eyes confusedly searching for a place to escape, and she tried, oh yes, she tried.

Without saying anything, breathing nervously, she tried to get up from the sofa, frustrated by my hand pushing her chest, by my body climbing hers.

“My, my diary...” she stammered nervously as I dropped the book on the floor and my hands traveled to the edges of her dislocated underwear, pulling it down to her ankles.

She was paralyzed, but I didn't give it any importance.

I just wanted to know, I wanted to know if what she said was true and if I could take her without feeling guilty.

“Tell me what you said was true,” I whispered in a nervous voice, caressing her legs, scratching her skin with my nails, closing my eye to listen to the sounds of her body, her nervous breathing, her embarrassed sobbing. “Tell me you feel the same way I feel about you…”

“Donna, I…” she stammered, grabbing my wrists so they would stop desecrating her body, so she could look directly at me, with a sigh that revealed a sudden air of confidence. “Yes, it was true.”

“Do you love me?” I asked, with a serious look, leaving lust aside, focusing on a feeling that, until the last week, I thought was impossible.

“I love you,” she said in a low voice, looking away, with a tear running down her cheek.

I wiped it with one hand, taking the opportunity to caress her cheek, to cup her face in my hands before looking at her, studying the shine in her eyes, a sincere shine.

I smiled, I smiled pleased by her words, but I didn't know how to respond as I was expected to do.

I simply leaned towards her, positioning her legs on either side of my waist and placing my lips on hers, kissing the softness that her mouth was, the beauty that (Y/N) was, being able to feel my own fantasies, losing myself in the sweet embrace of our lips.

I didn't want to do it, but I moved away, studying her reaction, proving once again that there was no lie in her words, in her actions.

I sighed, closed my eye to kiss her again, this time more passionately, a kiss she returned with the same reaction, melting us into a bonfire of passion, of caresses, of almost desperate kisses, eager to receive what they had been waiting for so long.

“Take me, Donna, please,” she asked when my lips allowed her to speak, when her legs wrapped around my waist, pulling my body to hers, making me crash against it, my erection caressing her wet center through my skirt.

“I thought you were more romantic,” I murmured, ignoring my romanticism, the desire to love innocently.

The lustful desire was much stronger. She laughed, freed from the anguish, from the fear of rejection or a reprimand.

“If you really love me, we will have enough time to be romantic,” she said in a whisper that was more of a warning, the fear that the feelings I didn’t know how to express were false.

“I promise you, (Y/N),” I whispered as I released my erection from the skirt, causing her eyes to dance down, her head to lean back, waiting for the moment we had both dreamed of.

Her body moved nervously as the tip entered slowly, stretching her “until then” incorrupt body, something my dark mind had not stopped to think about.

But I wasn’t going to stop because of that.

“I'm sorry,” I said in a soft tone when I saw her grimace of pain. “I'll go slower.”

I kept my word, moving slowly, not letting myself be carried away by the overwhelming sensations of her body hugging mine tightly, almost desperately. Her wetness, her excitement allowed me to move my hips, to run my shaft along her walls, to let them embrace me in an incredible way, impossible just a few weeks ago.

There was no room for apologies or stopping anymore. The pleasure was intense, her wetness bathed my flesh asking for more, asking me to move faster.

The timid moans came out of her mouth, her legs kept me inside of her while her hands scratched my back, searching for my breasts, those she said she liked that much.

Damn diary, it gave me the advantage, I knew what she was going to do, what she was going to touch, or what she was going to kiss before she did it.

I continued moving in a comfortable rhythm, letting out with my moans a small part of the pleasure I felt inside of her body. I wanted to adore her, worship her, make her mine even though she already was. My hips demanded more, hers struggled not to arch, not to release shamefully.

“Donna, it's, it's amazing,” she murmured in a confused way, letting herself be carried away by the pleasure of my thrusts, by the sensations caused by her walls stretching around me.

I nodded trying to maintain my composure, not to be carried away by my throbbing erection, which was already demanding its own release.

“You, your body, is, amazing… You are amazing, (Y/N)…” I murmured, unintentionally increasing the pace, kissing her lips, forgetting about the movement of my hips, letting everything flow as fate wanted, and so it did.

Her back arched held by my hands, her body moved nervously around my shaft, squeezing it, forcing me to release myself along with her orgasm, to fill her with my heat, with my seed, so there would no longer be any doubt. She was mine, and she would always be.

Exhausted, heated, we looked at each other, catching our breath, letting our release mix in silence, our hands traveling over our skin, over our clothes that still held some modesty in that carnal act.

“(Y/N),” I sighed, lifting her chin so she could look at me. “I'm sorry about reading your diary.”

She shook her head, closing her eyes, joining her hand with mine, holding it tightly with hers.

“If you hadn't done that, I wouldn't have been able to say how much I love you…”

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

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 2 years ago

Text

North Star.

It's New Years Eve. Jake is tired of waiting.

Pairing - Jake Seresin x female reader

Warnings - None

Word Count - 1638

Author's Note - Thank you so much for all the love on The Orange - I've been giggling and kicking my feet reading all of your comments and tags. I loved writing it, and I loved writing this one too. Please feel free to send me any requests, ideas, prompts, comments or questions - I'll always read them. If I could kiss you all, I would x

Masterlist. Requests.

Multi colored lights adorn the beams of the ceiling. Metallic streamers hang from the bar. Music is blasting from the jukebox. The Hard Deck almost looks unrecognisable.

It's New Years Eve, and The Squad have agreed to spend it together. Hangman, Coyote and Payback are at the dart board, allowing Jake to show off his talent. Bob, Rooster and Fanboy are convened by the pool table, taking turns to shoot, unbothered by who's meant to be sinking what. You and Natasha are standing by the bar, waiting for Penny to serve you when she gets the chance.

"So, come on, who are you kissing at midnight?" Natasha looks at you with a glint in her eye. Mischievous girl.

"Yeah. Right. You, if you're not careful," you warn her, teasing lilt in your voice. Honestly, you don't think she'd be the worst choice in the world.

"As much as I'd love that, I don't think the squad could handle it," she winks at you cheekily. "Seriously, who?"

"I don't know!" you laugh. But that's a lie. You do know. At least, you know who you'd like to kiss.

Jake Seresin. Hangman. America's Sweetheart.

Pilot, Texan, Heartbreaker.

Your friend, your teammate, the man you've been in love with since you met him that first day of basic training.

The two of you were partnered for the first few exercises that day, and you beat every other pair by a mile. You both figured out pretty quickly that you make a damn good team.

That hasn't changed. If ever you have to pair up for an exercise, a mission, or just a class, Jake's eyes find yours immediately. A silent question. Shall we? And your answer, always - of course.

You seem to have your own language, this shared communication. You don't have to speak to know what the other person is saying. On the ground, or in the air, you know each other's next moves. Predictable, but comfortable.

Maybe that's the problem.

You believe strongly that women are more than capable of making the first move. You've thought about grabbing Jake and kissing him stupid more times than you can count. But you don't. Every time there's an opportunity, you brush past it, let it go. Because the comfort isn't worth sacrificing. At least, that's what you're telling yourself.

Your friendship with Jake has been built on years of trust, empathy, and reliance. You know that no matter what, he'll have your back. He's demonstrated it more than once. Countless times. Showing up for you, without fail. When you were harassed by a man at the Hard Deck, Jake showed up. When you had a family member's funeral and didn't want to go alone, Jake showed up. When you broke your wrist and ended up in the hospital, Jake showed up. He was your North Star. Always there, always guiding. Always comforting.

So you can't help but repeatedly ask yourself - why hasn't he made a move? You're convinced you know the answer to that question, though. Because you're friends. He sees you as a friend. A teammate. Which you wouldn't change for the world, not by any means. But it doesn't stop you from wishing that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't hold his cards so close to his chest. Just for a minute.

The Devil Himself sidles over to the two of you, still at the bar, and throws an arm over each of you. Natasha manages to wiggle under and away from him, but you stay put. You don't mind.

"Hey pretty ladies," he beams, "whatcha whispering about?"

"It's kind of impossible to whisper when you keep queueing Duran Duran on the jukebox at full volume, Hangman," Natasha barks back.

He laughs, a real, full bodied laugh that shakes both him and you, still with his arm slung over your shoulder. You laugh with him. It's impossible not to. His laugh is contagious, you think. Unavoidable. He laughs, you laugh. That's the way it's always been.

It's at this moment that Bob pushes his way through the crowd, grabbing Natasha by the hand.

"Phoenix, I need you. Fanboy doesn't believe you can do that pool trick you showed me last week. Come and prove him wrong!"

She grins at you, and allows herself to be pulled into the swarms of people, on her way to earn some respect.

You turn back to Jake at the bar, and see that he's ordered a beer, and your usual. Observant boy.

You take a sip of your drink, only for a drop to miss your mouth entirely. Maybe it's the alcohol, or maybe it's just his impatience, but Jake decides he's tired of waiting. He leans in to you, and slowly, deliberately, follows the journey of the drop with his tongue, from the bottom of your neck up to your jaw. He pulls back, and watches you with that gaze of his. Measured, careful. Adoring. Mischievous. Just so Jake.

You feel the heat rise from your chest and up to your cheeks, but you don't break eye contact with him. It feels like a confession. You're baring your truth to him, silently, and he's understanding. That shared language. You're both saying so much, without saying anything at all.

It's then that you realise where you are. The Hard Deck has somehow become even more crowded, and you keep being bumped left and right by people attempting to get to the bar. The music is too loud, the lights are too bright. You need a minute. As if he can read your mind, Jake speaks.

"Let's get some air. It's hot in here."

He grabs your hand, interlacing your fingers with his, and leads you out of the door, onto the deck outside.

The cool night air hits you both, and you sigh with relief. You allow the breeze to flow through your hair, to ripple your dress, to cleanse you of your worry.

Jake's still holding your hand. Tighter, now. As if he's scared you'll blow away. Or run away, maybe.

You lean into him slightly, and rest your head against his arm. He's warm, soft. He smells like Jake. Like love. Like home.

"You okay?" he asks. Always so worried about you. Attentive boy.

"I'm good. Just a little overwhelmed, I guess."

He starts to rub circles over the back of your hand with his thumb, grounding you. It's all so intimate, you don't know whether to pull him closer or sprint in the other direction.

He makes the decision for you - closer. He kisses your hair, and then rests his head atop of yours. You can hear the squad laughing and cheering inside, all of them completely unaware that out on the deck, two of their teammates are baring their souls to each other.

You have no idea whether it's been two minutes or two hours when Jake speaks again.

"You're the prettiest girl in that bar, you know." Then, he says, a bit quieter, "You're always the prettiest girl in the room."

He says it so sincerely, so earnestly, that you want to rip your heart out of your chest and place it in his hands. You want to give it to him so that maybe he'll finally understand - it's already his.

You don't know what to say, so you bring your interlaced hands up to your lips, and kiss each of his knuckles individually. He's so warm, so golden. Radiating light wherever he goes. Your North Star.

You both listen to the gentle crash of the ocean waves, sitting with the weight of the moment. It feels like with every second that passes, silent revelations are being made. As if the love, the feelings, the comfort, are passing through your hands and into his. You're quite convinced that you could stay right where you are forever.

Bury me like this, you think. Immortalise us here.

All of a sudden, the sound of a countdown breaks through your solitude.

Ten. Nine.

You smile gently, and look at Jake, to see him gazing down at you. Stars in his eyes. Cosmic boy.

Eight. Seven.

He glances inside, to see the squad all gathered together, arms around one another. His family.

Six. Five.

Jake turns to you, and cups your face in both of his hands. Those hands that have picked you up from the ground. Those hands that have wiped your tears. Those hands, so strong, but so gentle. That's him all over, though. Your gentle boy.

Four. Three.

He looks at you with promise in his eyes. You can understand, clear as day, what he's telling you. Life will never be the same, from this day forward. Neither of you can wait.

Two. One.

Jake leans in, and presses his lips to yours. He tastes like spearmint, and the future. One of his hands travels to the back of your neck, to pull you in closer. Now that he has you this near, he knows he's never going to be able to let you go.

Bodies pressed together as close as can be, you kiss him with so much love, you're surprised he hasn't fallen over. He's breathing you in, trying to commit this moment to memory. He knows he'll tell your grandkids about this. Hell, he'll tell any damn person that'll listen.

"Happy New Year, sweetheart," he murmurs against your lips.

"Happy New Year, lover," you whisper back against his.

Bright beams of light appear above your head suddenly. Explosions of color dance across the sky, illuminating Jake's face. You look at him, and feel the urge to burst into tears. He's not watching the fireworks. He's watching you. He's gazing at you like you hung the moon. You're looking at him like he's the North Star, guiding you home. And that's exactly where you are. Home.

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drunknillawafer · 5 months ago

Text

right down the line: zuko x firebender!reader | part 3

You grew up close to the Royal Family due to your father's position as a General, but you ran away from home after the agni kai against your best friend. Now, you've joined the Gaang and plan on doing your part in ending the 100-year war.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5

hiii here is part 3! hopefully you guys like it, i'm still getting used to writing a fic and keeping it published... rmr to like/reblog/comment if u like it, it's like feedback >.< again i do not own these characters or the atla universe this is simply fan fiction! about 2331 words btww

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

“You don’t actually believe any of this stuff, do you?” Sokka painfully reminds me of his disapproving attitude.

We were walking through the forest when we ran into an eerie man. He gave us an umbrella because a psychic in his village told him to hold it on his travels if he met strangers. A few minutes later, Sokka was too stubborn to believe the old man and couldn't stay dry.

Katara and I took one look at each other and immediately agreed. We have to go see this lady.

Events like these would be odd to anyone else, like Jet. But to Aang, it’s pretty common. It must be his tie to the spirit realm, magic gravitates toward him.

A few weeks after joining the group and abandoning my post with the Freedom Fighters, I learned a lot of things about the people who stumbled upon that Fire Nation camp and changed the trajectory of my plans. Katara and Sokka are siblings from the Southern Water Tribe, and Aang is an airbender from… a while ago. He was frozen in the ice for one hundred years when Katara found him. For a kid 4 years younger than me, he's lived a hundred lifetimes. He's a prodigy. I can see why Zuko hadn’t caught up to them yet.

But I also don’t want to know what Zuko would do to Aang if he did catch up, or what I’d do if he did.

I don’t know my place in this group, or if I should tell them I’m a fire-bender, but for now, we’re standing in front of a circular red door at the strange village the eerie man told us to go to.

Apparently, Aunt Wu has been waiting for us.

“Kind of, it’s nice to know,” I reply to Sokka’s earlier question. I've decided to keep my questions to Aunt Wu light, like Katara. Ask about love.

When we enter, a little girl in a pink robe and two buns on the side of her head greets us.

“I’m Meng and I’m Aunt Wu’s assistant." She motions towards the orange pillows on the right for us to sit down. It’s a small warm yellow waiting room with red lights, green accents, and a smooth wooden floor. Designed for someone to trust and open up. Cozy. “Would you guys like some tea or bean curd puffs?” She offers.

“I’ll try a puff!” Sokka perks up. Meng leaves the room to retrieve the goods and we are left alone, sitting on the soft cushions.

Aang can't help but break the tempting silence, “You don’t believe in fortune telling, Sokka?”

“I don’t need some psychic to tell me about the future. I’m worried about right now.”

I roll my eyes. “Sokka’s a skeptic.”

Before he can reply, Meng returns with the curd puffs and tea. She sets it down on the floor in front of Aang, making sure he can see her favor. “Enjoy!” She blushes and scurries away to the other side of the room reserved for the people who work with Aunt Wu. Do they get predictions too?

Sokka drags the tray away from an unbothered Aang, “Don’t mind if I do.”

I’d gotten used to Katara and Aang, they were fairly easy to travel with.

Katara is used to her brother and has developed a habit of preparing an apology about him to new people. In his defense, this is the first time he's lived outside his home. The Southern Water Tribe has been unable to fully recover from the last Fire Nation raid and the impacts still live today. The siblings are only used to the cold, quaint, and silent.

Aang, as the last air-bender, the Avatar, and a 12-year-old boy adjusting to being essentially gone from humanity for one hundred years in the ice... has other things on his mind.

It was Sokka who bothered me. He was unlike anyone I’d ever met before.

He had this incessant need to voice his opinions with no one's feelings in mind. Constant tunnel vision over any dispute with his younger sister betrayed his need to be a vicious warrior. A warrior with a boomerang and no sword on hand.

I've learned Sokka's a non-bender living in a world being corrupted by fire-benders and he's developed the necessary armor.

He’ll take the fishing job for us when we’re out of money. He did get us sick for being out in the storm, but it’s the thought that counts, right?

The same reason he can be frustrating is the same reason he saved the village: he won’t listen to anyone when his mind is set.

He’s true and noble, really. It’s admiring. I shake my head. He’s a conundrum.

An older woman wearing a floor-length yellow robe walks in through the circular door to Aunt Wu's working area. Her bright smile and waiting eyes are signs that she's the psychic. In a sweet tone, she gleefully asks, “Welcome! Who wants to go first?”

I look at everyone, but no one speaks up. After a moment of silence, I raise my hand. “I’ll go.”

“Perfect, follow me!” Aunt Wu guides me through the hallway and stops in front of the door to her space. She opens and I’m instantly greeted by dim lights and a small fireplace in the middle of the room. Colorful cushions to sit on and lit candles on the floor are placed circularly near a decorative stand with a bowl. A closer look and I see small and medium-sized bones at the very top.

“This is my method." She must've seen my reaction and answered the questions all over it. "You choose a bone, throw it in a fire. The fire makes cracks in the bones, and I read the cracks. The bones never lie.” She explains. “Go ahead.”

I grab a random bone and, per her instructions, throw it in the fire. I watch as the flames engulf the calcium.

We sit in front of the fire on the berry-colored pillows as we patiently wait for the cracks to start forming. Aunt Wu is focused on the fortune while I look around the room, pretending I’m not waiting for her next words.

“Do you have any questions?”

“I don’t know, I mean. You can just tell me what the bones say.” I chicken out from my original plan.

By now, there are a few cracks in my chosen bone. Aunt Wu burrows her eyebrows and leans forward. “I see you... falling in love with a warrior.” She pauses. “His mother figure left his life early when he was just a little boy. He is an excellent swordsman and an even better friend.”

Deflecting, I question her, “You can see all of that from a bunch of cracks?"

“Yes, you’ll take part in a great battle with this love of yours. Remember to look in friendship.” She gracefully leans her head up and down, signaling the end of the session.

“I will,” I nod. “Thank you, Aunt Wu.” I stand up from my pillow and bow to her as a gesture of goodbye. I wonder if she knew what I wanted to ask.

When I exit the room through the door, I’m greeted by a flustered Sokka on the other end.

“Spying on me?” I ask him, fighting a smile on my face.

“No, I was just – going to the bathroom!” He spoke. Quickly, he marched to the restrooms beyond Aunt Wu’s door. O-kay.

I walk back to the waiting room and tell Katara to go in after me. She jumps up from her seat in a giddy excitement and heads toward the back room.

I sit next to Aang on the soft pillows and search for the curd puffs. Sokka made them look so good.

“So, what do you think she’s going to ask?” Aang says as he hands me the snack.

“Probably about love, you know. Who she’s going to marry. If he’s gonna be tall.” I stuff the curd puff into my mouth and let the savory taste absorb my mind. These are good.

“Yeah, haha, right. Well…I’ll be right back.” He stands up. “I gotta go to the bathroom!” Apparently, everyone needs to right now. But it’s the first stop we’ve made in about an hour, so.

“Say hi to Sokka for me.” I watch as he hurries away. A few seconds later, the boy in blue returns.

I hold a puff in my hand and point at the delicious snack for emphasis. “Hey, these are great.”

He sits next to me and grabs one for himself, eating it in one bite. He seems to be in thought. “Are you okay?” I poke.

With his mouth stuffed he speaks, “Yeah, I’m great.”

☆

When we leave Aunt Wu’s, Sokka is walking next to me as Katara and Aang lead the way through the village. He doesn't leave my side as we walk through the maze of Earth Kingdom commune layouts.

We finally reach the town square when Katara asks, “What happened to the sky?” It looked like the citizens all took the day to meet here and stare upward in unison, murmuring to themselves.

A man standing nearby overhears her question. “Every year, Aunt Wu reads the clouds and tells us the fate of our village.” Please with his answer, he continues to watch the sky.

“Can you believe this guy?” Sokka looks at me in disbelief. “Now the clouds?”

Another villager, a woman, continues the explanation. “She’s going to tell us if the volcano will remain dormant.” Her arm extends behind her and points to the harmless mountain.

Do they actually let Aunt Wu tell them if the volcano is going to erupt?

“Do you actually let Aunt Wu tell you if the volcano is going to erupt? Why?” Sokka asks them. The other half of the time, we find ourselves agreeing.

“She’s coming, hush!” Katara shushes her brother.

Aunt Wu walks right in the middle of the crowd as they make way for her, clapping and cheering. She begins to list the shape of the clouds, followed by a fortune for the town. Good harvest, twins are having a good year, and the volcano will not erupt.

“She’s been right for twenty years, maybe that’s a sign she can be trusted.” I nudge Sokka with my elbow. He rolls his eyes in annoyance, I’ve been bought like the rest of them.

Katara and Aang are swept away by the current of cheers and idolization for Aunt Wu. Though, it seems like since we got here Aang’s head has been anywhere else but, on the psychic, and her predictions.

“Right…” A suddenly serious Sokka pulls me by my arm. He uses the wave of hysteria as his moment to step away from the group. Begrudgingly, I feel my heart drop into my stomach from his hand touching my arm. “Just in case she ends up, being right, I want to let you know that… uh…” He lets the seconds fly by.

“Spit it out.”

“I like you.” He lets out.

Oh.

“And I know you’re not really like open to people in general,” He continues. “It’s been a few weeks and I hardly know about your life before the Freedom Fighters.” Sokka pauses to read my face. “But I like you. Ever since I first saw you.”

I haven’t really shared anything about myself with them, true.

It was the morning after.

Fire Lord Ozai ordered his best General, my father, and his family, me, to attend a Royal Agni Kai. They didn’t happen much but when they did, it was required for all the important people of the Fire Lord’s inner circle and their families to attend. Some twisted tradition.

When I arrived in the sea of crimson clothes and serious faces, I believed I was going to witness an agni kai between Zuko’s Uncle Iroh and his brother. Who else could it be? I was wrong. I saw Iroh in the audience, and it felt like a thousand pounds had been rested on my chest. I wouldn’t believe what I had to endure next. What Zuko had to experience.

I would see Fire Lord Ozai’s fire-bending with my own two eyes, but it would be against my best friend, his son.

Now, I’m locking myself in my room in defiance. I don’t want to have anything to do with my father if he’d let me see the cruelty up close and personal. He took everything I love and messed it all up in one swift choice. Rage wouldn’t begin to describe the feeling bubbling in my throat.

I wasn’t sure if I should go see Zuko, if his injuries are unsafe for visitors. I’d regret it as soon as the servant brought the letter the prince had sent to me.

As I close the door to my chambers behind the maid, I open the note for the sign of anything relieving.

Y/N,

Father banished me. I must go find the Avatar, so I’m leaving on a ship. Uncle is coming. I don’t know when I’ll see you again, so I wanted to let you know that I will restore my honor and come home to you. I love you

Zuko

I re-read the note three times before understanding what it is that he’s telling me.

The bubble in my throat is slowly forming into a ball of tears, ready to pour out at any minute. He’s gone. Mutilated by his own father and then sent away. I hate him, I hate the Fire Lord. For everything he’s taken away from me.

On the other end, I feel butterflies. The ones I’d been pushing down for the past year about Zuko. I didn’t want to ruin what we had or change it. We were nice as we were. I guess he was feeling it too.

But it’s too late. There’s no more time to sit and wonder if a boy likes you back. It’s not about that anymore. It’s about finally ending this war and stopping the Fire Nation.

“So, what do you think?” Sokka looks at me, searching for an indication in my eyes.

“I…” struggle to find the words, “But I can’t. Not right now... Is that okay?” It’s my turn to look at him and hope I didn’t ruin it.

But Sokka’s kind. “No of course not. I understand. I just thought you should know. I’ll be here, yaknow, if you change your mind.” He flashes that grand smile at me.

I didn't know if I wanted to start this here and now. He doesn't even know I'm a fire-bender. Would he feel the same way if he knew? I'm not ready for any answer.

Still, it was nice to know he liked me back. I could revel in that a bit.

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