#keeping in mind she didn't know her life was at stake
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lilianade-comics · 2 months ago
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Stolen Sanguine's Storyline
@taptrial2 requested information about my Danny Phantom vampire AU, Stolen Sanguine. I previously made a post about the AU's world-building. This post will summarize the story as far as I've developed it.
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*Vlad begins the relevant history of this AU as a vampire, and the details of his turning are not important as they are not the inciting incident of his revenge plot.
---
THE PAST.
A little over thirteen years ago, Vlad was a rich, powerful vampire living the typical vampiric lifestyle with the added bonus of some mad science human/vampire experimentation on the side. But after years of living like that, he realized it wasn't satisfying him and there was something very big and important missing from his existence. Under the weight of crushing loneliness, and knowing it's supposed to be against vampiric nature to form real connections, Vlad decides to run an experiment: Is it possible for him, a vampire, to form a real relationship with a human and never introduce blood consumption to the dynamic? Is it possible for him to experience genuine love?
Enter Jack and Maddie. Maddie was about six months pregnant at the time, and the story she tells Vlad is that her husband was a merchant whose ship sank recently. Jack is in the role of her servant. They quickly form a friendship with Vlad and in Maddie's case, she allows Vlad to believe he's wooing her. They run the long game on Vlad, waiting for the perfect moment to strike, and that moment comes a few months after Maddie's twins are born. Jack and Maddie, vampire hunting husband and wife, turn on Vlad and attempt to slay him, citing his many, many crimes against humanity and evil, blood consuming nature as the reason he's a fool to think they ever cared about him at all.
Vlad escapes Jack and Maddie because his castle is full of secret passageways, but he's suffering a nasty facial wound from a stake and reeling from the betrayal. He watches from a distance as they burn his home down and destroy his immortal life's work, and bitter hatred takes root in his black heart because he actually had hope his experiment was working. That he could love and be loved and finally feel satisfied...
Immediate revenge is the only option. Maddie gave all number of excuses why she wouldn't let Vlad meet her infant (the cholera outbreak in the area is too dangerous) in a thin attempt to protect them should the plan go awry, but she didn't realize Vlad's powers far extend the norm. With a trace of Jack's blood on one hand and Maddie's on the other, Vlad can taste both and have an approximate idea of where their offspring resides, so he sets off to destroy Jack and Maddie's world.
Jack and Maddie would never have expected Vlad to find their little traveling murder wagon, so it's relatively undefended save the ridiculous amount of anti-vampire measures, half of which are useless and the other half pose no more than a slight inconvenience. The biggest obstacle is the fact that Vlad can't enter the dwelling uninvited and keep his powers, but he's beyond caring at this point and he meets no opposition from the cowering caretaker tasked with minding the treacherous leeches's spawn.
He wasn't expecting two babies, and after forcing entry Vlad is feeling more fatigued, vulnerable, in pain, and anxious than he anticipated, so he makes the hasty choice to take one and leave the other. Had he been more decisive, he probably would have done something far more grisly, but this choice sealed the fate of both children for better or for worse. Vlad flees the Fenton's traveling home with his stolen prize and vanishes into the beyond, never to be found.
(Jack and Maddie return some time later, exhausted and emotionally spent from hours of trying and failing to find their prey. To say that day went from bad to worse for them is an understatement. They continue to search for Vlad and their daughter for weeks, but the day they find a blood soaked baby blanket in the woods is the day they lose all hope.)
Vlad's retreat from his pursuers was stressful and made more difficult due to the fact that he was injured from the attempted slaying and powerless from forcing entry, but fortunately for him the tiny object of his revenge will conveniently provide the blood needed for his expedient recovery. Vlad has never eaten a child before--the thought is somewhat distasteful to him, but he puts this discomfort aside in the face of his hunger and seething, furious need to hurt Jack and Maddie.
It's funny, then, how when he removes the infant from its blanket and looks into its blue eyes and observes its little fisted hands and feet, holding it aloft and away from his body like the sacrifice it's supposed to be, Vlad hesitates. In those best days with Jack and Maddie, he could have sworn his experiment was working. That if they had never tried to kill him, Vlad could have seen fully past his desire for blood and simply be their friend, no strings attached. That he could have fully loved them. That they could fully love him. It was they who had ruined everything, they who were the monsters, not him. Vampires could love, if they chose to. He just needed to find someone without prejudice, someone without hate...
Danielle's life was spared that day. As she grows up far, far away from her birthplace, Vlad ensures she knows what he wants her to know: That he, a vampire, adopted her after her evil parents used her as bait in an attempt to kill him. It's not the unedited truth, of course. But it's true enough. What's even more true is that Danielle loves him wholeheartedly, and Vlad, in his own disturbed way, loves her too. He shields her from the darkness of his world and does everything in his considerable power to keep her happy, healthy, and safe. He's not lying when he claims he's never bitten her. She's his daughter, a word that isn't in the average vampire's vocabulary. It's the sweetest revenge imaginable: the child of vampire hunters, now the child of a vampire.
---
PRESENT DAY.
Danny is turned inside his own home. It was a freak accident, and he wasn't even bitten. All it takes is one little scratch and a tiny drop of venom; and he wakes up the following night with a craving for the unimaginable. Brought up to believe vampires are the most evil creatures alive and terrified of what he might do to his parents, he flees home and camps out at the Foley farm, where Tucker sneaks him livestock just to keep him alive.
Jack and Maddie were going to let Danny apprentice at an astronomer's guild in the near future, so Danny leaves them a note to tell them he was so excited about it he left early. The truth is too terrifying to admit, and he knows they're too caught up in the hunt for the vampire that got away from them thirteen years ago to question it. They kept saying they were close; which means Danny is free to...do what, exactly?
He has nowhere to go. Tucker can't hide him forever, and as much as Sam pretends that she's a witch she can't undo his curse. And Danny feels that hunger still, that hunger driving him to hurt his closest friends. So he leaves them too, fearing their safety.
He travels for a bit by night, subsisting off animals and avoiding people as much as he can. He has some close calls: a white-clad vampire slaying cult nearly catches him after he gets a little too bold going after livestock, and even though Danny knows he needs to avoid people, he can't help but take advantage of his newfound immortality and help people who need it. A victim of highway robbery here, a stuck wagon there. One freezing cold river and one rescued swimmer later and Danny discovers that he's exceptionally pathetic for a vampire; he can't die by hypothermia or drowning, but he lacks the resistance and recovery speed these monsters are supposed to have. He spends hours staring at the stars, hoping no one finds him like this, and all he can think about is blood.
It's at one rural village miles away that he hears whispers that he's officially in vampire territory. He's passingly familiar with these concepts: vampires aren't typically nomadic and usually reside in one or two locations, amassing enough power and wealth and political or economic influence so as to be untouchable, and presiding over a handful of villages or even a city that don't dare to oppose them. This particular area apparently has a relatively high concentration of vampires, which normally would have him going the other direction. But one name stands out from the rest, one name gives him pause. Vlad Masters, or Plasmius as he is colloquially known underground. The one who escaped from his parents, all those years ago. The one who killed his baby twin sister.
Curiosity is only a fraction of what drives Danny into Vlad's domain. Is it anger? A sense of vengeance for a sister he never had the chance to know? Misguided heroic principles telling him to save the poor people in Vlad's village? Or something far more complicated, the need to look at another vampire and compare himself--to understand---what he is. What he might become. Either way Danny finds himself readying a wooden stake on the way to the manor and realizing he might be more like his parents than he's willing to admit.
It's midday when Danny arrives. He long ago picked up a heavy cloak to shield him from the sun, and he figures that Vlad is more likely to be inactive and less powerful when it isn't night. And since Danny has never drank human blood, he has no powers to lose when he enters the manor uninvited. He doesn't know what he's looking for. A murder dungeon, probably. Body parts strewn everywhere. Blood smeared on the walls. Evidence of a terrifying vampiric mad scientist's crimes. Not prim little houseplants and stacks and stacks of gaudy decorations. Unfortunately for him, Vlad has been functionally diurnal for years at this point, and Danny doesn't notice he's been snuck up on until Vlad is right behind him and inquiring just what does this little intruder think he is doing?
Coming face to face with his sister's murderer with no warning wasn't ideal, but Danny has been on the open road long enough that his reaction time is sharpened to a knife's point. Or a stake's point, as it were. And perhaps if he were facing a human he might have managed to do something with it. But Vlad catches his swing comically easily and holds it in place, like he's trying to decide if it was meant to be a feeble joke. Danny wrests his arm away and falls back, and his hood slips back from his head, revealing his face.
Vlad's unprecedented expression of shock and recognition is all Danny needs to see, and he's on his feet again in a blink. "Recognize me?" he inquires. Vlad audibly confirms it, that Danny must be Jack and Maddie's son, the other baby in the cradle. The twin left behind. And at this Danny's anger and panic gives way to bloodlust, a terrible surge of violence with one target. He can't believe he's endured weeks of pushing down his monsterous urges just to give in here, but Danny can't let the death of his sister slide.
Attacking Vlad again goes no better than it did the first time, and now Vlad's mostly recovered from the shock and remarking on how....amusing it is that Danny has found him after all these years. And look at that! Are those adorable canines pointed? Why, that's just the most delicious cosmic irony possible, and Vlad's smug musing at how this must have utterly destroyed his parents only enrages Danny more. Try as he might, he never even comes close to harming Vlad, who dances around him like it's all a very cute game.
Vlad maintains the insufferable veneer until Danny, furious and panting, reminds him that he happens to be the bastard who killed an innocent baby- his baby sister, and Vlad shows a glimmer of genuine irritation for the first time. Suddenly he's closer than he was a second ago, and he playfully tells Danny that being a presumptuous brat will not improve his chances of making it out of the manor alive. Danny takes the golden opportunity to swing at him again, but Vlad finally goes on the offensive and grabs him in a vicelike chokehold.
Still conversational, Vlad tells Danny he has left him in a most interesting position. Shall he kill him? That would certainly be fair, since Danny has tried to kill him already, and he's clearly unable to control himself. Or should he spare him, and reveal the true nature of his sister's fate? Danny struggles for air, with no idea what Vlad is talking about. He tries to wheeze something goading, but the moment ends abruptly when a door swings open behind them and Danielle runs into the room, not finishing her sentence when she sees the confrontation.
Saved by his sister's appearance, Vlad reluctantly releases Danny and lets him cough pitifully on the floor while he attends to Danielle, who has forgotten what she wanted and is staring wide eyed at the strange boy, not letting Vlad coax her out of the room. Danny recovers his breath, bloodlust long gone, and stares right back. Vlad, for once in his life, briefly looks at a loss, before deciding that an explanation is definitely necessary and he introduces Danielle to the impertinent little intruder who just tried to stab him, her long lost twin brother Daniel. And to Danny, he introduces Danielle, placing great stress on my beloved daughter.
Dinner that night is unbelievably awkward. For Vlad and Danny, that is. Danielle is thrilled. It comes to light that Danielle not only knows she's adopted, she knows the whole story of how she came to be with Vlad...or, at least, Vlad's edited version of it. Danny is appalled, especially when Danielle excitedly exclaims that now that he's escaped his parents, he can live with her and Vlad forever! Vlad chokes on his wine (or is it blood?) while Danny shoots him a thunderous look. Danny inquires why Dani thinks he escaped his parents, and she, sensing his unhappiness, explains that they probably tried to hurt him for being a vampire like they tried to hurt her father, didn't they? Vlad watches Danny closely, because that's exactly the assumption he made as well, but Danny manages to grind out that his parents love him and are good people, and would never, ever hurt him.
Later, after Danielle has shown Danny every nook and cranny of the manor and babbled excitedly about her life and asked him a million questions about his, after Vlad finally sends her to bed, Danny finds himself alone with his sister's murderer again. No, not her murderer. Her kidnapper. Her manipulative liar of a "father". He tells Vlad as much, sitting across from him with a lit fireplace between them. Vlad only scoffs and asks when, exactly, did he lie to Danielle? Did he lie when he said Jack and Maddie used her and Daniel as bait? Maddie was with child when she courted Vlad. Bait, my dear boy. What sort of parents knowingly place their unborn children in the sights of a vampire? Did he lie, then, when he said he rescued her from them? Judging by Daniel's unfortunate fate, no.
Danny's face colors with rage, but he can't say anything for a moment. You're still evil, you're still a monster, you won't get away with this, all flit through his mind, but he settles for telling Vlad that his parents had nothing to do with his "condition" and he's not afraid of them hurting him. Vlad smirks in that punchable way of his, and says that's evident in the way he ran for miles just to fall at the feet of their worst enemy. Danny doesn't rise to this bait. He goes on to say that he's not scared of his parents hurting him, he's scared of the reverse. Of the very real urge he feels to hurt them.
Then Danny brings up the thing that has been eating at him since he first saw Dani. The fact that she was not only happy and alive, but whole and unbitten. She's been living with a vampire for thirteen years and Vlad's never...? Vlad regards him and says nothing, face impassive save an amused quirk to the side of his mouth. How? Danny wonders. How is that even possible? Vampires aren't supposed to be able to treat humans like anything other than food. How did Vlad figure out how to resist the hunger?
Seeing that Danny is being earnest, Vlad asks him why he's here and what he wants. And Danny falters, thinking. As much as his skin crawls at the thought, he wants Vlad to teach him the secret to beating the hunger. He wants to stay close to his sister's side. And he wants to hold onto that glimmer of hope that maybe he doesn't have to be a monster. Vlad drums his fingers against the rich texture of the armchair and remarks how fortunate Daniel is that he bears such a striking resemblance to the one person in the world Vlad would never deny anything. And with how happy Daniel's presence has made Danielle, it would be a pity to separate the siblings again so soon. So with the wary promise that Daniel will do exactly what Vlad tells him to and that he will do nothing on pain of death to endanger Dani's safety whether it be by word or deed, Vlad agrees to teach him his secrets.
---
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cool-fancier · 3 months ago
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Kissed by Stardust
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Jennie Kim x Female Reader
Synopsis: A blind date with global K-pop star Jennie Kim leads to an unexpected, magical connection—one kiss turning a surreal night into the beginning of something unforgettable.
Word Count:4.8K
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You've always been one to pride yourself on your ability to keep calm under pressure. It's one of the many reasons you were able to succeed as an actress—calm, collected, composed. You could step onto any set, deliver any line, and face any high-stakes scene with the assurance that you would own the moment.
But tonight? Tonight, all of that composure is nowhere to be found.
Instead, you find yourself sitting at a candlelit table in one of LA's trendiest restaurants, staring blankly at the flickering flame as your nerves take over. There's an awkward tension buzzing inside of you, a mix of excitement and dread, and the more you try to suppress it, the more it builds, twisting your stomach into knots.
A blind date. That's what you've agreed to.
Your friends, Simi and Haze, had convinced you it was time to put yourself out there again. "You've been working too much," Simi had said, waving a hand dismissively when you tried to protest. "You never make time for fun."
"I have fun," you'd replied, though even you didn't believe it. The truth was, ever since your acting career had taken off, your personal life had taken a backseat. Sure, there had been a few flings here and there—brief, fleeting, but nothing serious. You were so busy traveling, attending press events, living on set for months on end, that the idea of getting to know someone felt... daunting. It was easier to focus on your work, to disappear into the roles you played on screen.
"You're going on this date, no excuses," Haze had chimed in, backing her twin up with a mischievous grin. "Trust us, Y/N. It's going to be amazing."
So here you are, nerves thrumming beneath your skin as you wait for your date to arrive, hoping against hope that tonight won't be a total disaster.
"You're going to love her," Simi had teased when she dropped you off. "Just trust me."
That's what worries you most. Simi and Haze are notorious for pulling pranks and dragging you into chaotic situations. You could only imagine what kind of person they'd chosen to set you up with.
The seconds tick by, each one stretching into what feels like an eternity. You glance around the restaurant, hoping the low light hides the anxious look on your face. It's a cozy spot, not overly fancy but still high-end enough to make you feel like you're underdressed, even though you'd spent a good hour fretting over what to wear. You settled on something simple—a sleek, black jumpsuit with a delicate silver necklace. Elegant but not over the top. Casual, yet sophisticated.
At least, you hope it's sophisticated.
Just as you're about to pull out your phone and distract yourself from the nerves that are gnawing at you, the door swings open, and you freeze.
Because standing in the doorway, casually glancing around the room with an air of confidence that only comes with fame, is none other than Jennie Kim.
Yes, that Jennie Kim.
Your breath catches in your throat.
No. No, this can't be right.
Your mind races, trying to make sense of what you're seeing. Jennie Kim, the global K-pop superstar, is not supposed to be your blind date tonight. This has to be some sort of mistake. Maybe she's just here for dinner with someone else. Maybe you've been set up at the wrong table, and any moment now, someone completely different will show up.
But as Jennie's gaze sweeps the room, it lands on you. Her eyes widen just slightly in recognition, and before you can even begin to process what's happening, she's making her way toward your table, a soft, knowing smile curving her lips.
Nope. This is real.
Your brain struggles to catch up with the situation as Jennie reaches your table, effortlessly slipping into the seat across from you like she belongs there.
"Hi," she says, her voice smooth and confident, like this is the most natural thing in the world. "You must be Y/N."
Your mouth opens, but no sound comes out. You're too stunned to respond, your thoughts still scrambling to understand how this could possibly be happening. Jennie Kim? Your blind date? How? Why?
Jennie tilts her head slightly, her smile turning playful as she notices your stunned expression. "Simi and Haze didn't tell you, did they?"
You blink, finally finding your voice, though it comes out a little shaky. "N-no. They, uh, left out a few details."
Jennie chuckles softly, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "They have a habit of doing that. I should've known they'd surprise you."
You manage a weak smile, though your heart is still racing. "I guess they thought it'd be funny to leave me in the dark."
"Well, I hope you're not too disappointed," Jennie says, her smile turning a little more tentative, almost as if she's unsure of herself for a moment. "I know this is... probably not what you expected."
Disappointed? How could you be disappointed? You're sitting across from one of the most famous women in the world. You've followed her career, admired her from afar, but you never in your wildest dreams thought you'd be in this situation. Yet here she is, sitting across from you, looking just as human, just as vulnerable as anyone else.
"No, not disappointed," you say quickly, shaking your head. "Just... surprised."
Jennie seems to relax at that, her shoulders dropping slightly as she leans back in her chair. "Good. I was hoping this wouldn't be too awkward."
You let out a soft laugh, some of the tension in your body easing as you meet her gaze. "Honestly, I think I'm the one making it awkward. I just wasn't expecting... well, *you*."
Jennie grins at that, her eyes twinkling with humor. "I get that a lot."
You smile, feeling the ice between you two beginning to thaw. There's a moment of silence, but it's not uncomfortable—more like the calm after the initial storm of nerves. You take a deep breath, finally letting yourself settle into the moment.
This is happening. You're on a date with Jennie Kim. Might as well make the best of it.
"So," you say, trying to steer the conversation into safer waters. "How do you know Simi and Haze?"
Jennie's smile brightens at the mention of the twins. "We've been friends for a few years now. I met them through mutual friends in the fashion world. We just clicked right away."
"That sounds about right," you reply, your lips quirking into a fond smile as you think of your two chaotic friends. "They're great at making friends."
Jennie nods, her expression softening. "They are. They've been like family to me, honestly. Whenever I'm in LA, they always take care of me."
You can hear the genuine affection in Jennie's voice, and it strikes you just how grounded she seems, despite the larger-than-life persona the world knows her for. There's something so... normal about the way she talks about her friendships, the way she carries herself. It's disarming, in the best possible way.
"Well, they certainly took care of me by setting this up," you say, a little smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "I mean, I wasn't sure about the whole blind date thing, but... this is turning out better than I expected."
Jennie laughs, her eyes crinkling at the edges. "I'll take that as a compliment."
"It is," you reply, feeling a little bolder now that the initial shock is wearing off. "I just... I never thought I'd be sitting across from Jennie Kim on a blind date. It's kind of surreal."
Jennie's smile softens, her gaze flickering down to the table for a moment before she looks back at you. "I get that. It's kind of surreal for me too, sometimes. But, you know, at the end of the day, I'm just a person. I like meeting new people, just like anyone else."
Her honesty catches you off guard, and you find yourself smiling. "I guess that's true. But still... you're Jennie."
Jennie grins, leaning forward slightly, her voice dropping into a playful tone. "And you're Y/N. I've heard a lot about you, you know."
Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "You have?"
Jennie nods, her smile turning a little more secretive. "Simi and Haze are big fans of your work. They're always talking about how talented you are."
Your cheeks flush at the unexpected compliment, and you find yourself momentarily speechless. You hadn't expected Jennie to know anything about you beyond the basics, let alone that your friends had been talking you up to her.
"Well, I hope I live up to the hype," you manage to say, trying to play it cool even though your heart is doing somersaults in your chest.
Jennie's gaze softens as she looks at you, and there's something almost... warm in her eyes, something that makes your pulse quicken in a way that has nothing to do with nerves. "I'm sure you will."
For a moment, the two of you just sit there, gazing at each other across the table, and you can't help but feel like something's shifted. It's subtle, but it's there—a spark of connection that wasn't there before.
You're not sure how long the silence stretches between you, but it's comfortable, warm even, and for the first time since Jennie walked through the door, you find yourself relaxing fully into the moment. Her smile, soft yet mischievous, lingers, and the air around you feels lighter, as if the world outside the restaurant has momentarily faded away.
"So," Jennie says, breaking the silence with a teasing tilt to her voice. "Tell me, Y/N, what's it like being a rising star in Hollywood? Simi and Haze made it sound like you're the next big thing."
You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. "I wouldn't say that. I've been lucky with some good roles, but the whole 'rising star' thing? That feels a little exaggerated."
Jennie arches an eyebrow, resting her chin on her hand as she leans in, clearly intrigued. "Don't be modest. I saw you in that series everyone's talking about—what was it called again?"
You blink, surprised. "You watched that?"
"Of course," Jennie replies with a smirk. "You were incredible. I mean, I wasn't exactly expecting it, but you really pulled me in. The emotion, the way you carry yourself on screen—it's impressive."
You stare at her for a second, caught off guard by how genuine her praise sounds. It's one thing to hear compliments from fans or even critics, but coming from Jennie Kim, someone who understands the pressures of performing on a global stage, it hits differently.
"Thank you," you say, and despite your attempt to stay cool, you can feel the heat creeping up your neck. "That means a lot coming from you. I guess I've just been really focused on my work lately, trying to make the most of the opportunities I've been given."
Jennie nods, her eyes reflecting understanding. "I get that. It's hard to find balance when you're so driven by what you love, right? There's always something else to achieve, something more to prove."
You nod, feeling a deep resonance with her words. "Exactly. Sometimes it feels like there's this constant pressure to be 'on' all the time, like you have to keep pushing or you'll lose momentum."
Jennie's expression softens, and she leans back in her chair, her eyes thoughtful. "That's one of the hardest parts for me too. Being in the public eye, there's this expectation to always be perfect. But no one can live up to that, not really. It's exhausting."
Her words hit you harder than you expect. It's easy to forget that someone like Jennie, with her perfect image and worldwide fame, might feel the same way you do—caught between passion and pressure, driven yet sometimes drained. There's a vulnerability in her voice that makes her feel more real, more grounded than the polished idol the world knows her as.
You decide to follow her lead, dropping your own guard just a little. "Yeah, I can relate to that. It's like, no matter what you do, there's always this feeling that you have to do more. And on the days when it gets to be too much, it's hard to take a step back without feeling like you're letting people down."
Jennie nods slowly, her gaze locked with yours. "Exactly. It's like... sometimes I wish I could just turn it all off, you know? Take a break from being 'Jennie' and just... be."
You can't help but smile at that. "I'm pretty sure you've earned the right to take a break."
Jennie grins, her eyes twinkling again. "Maybe. But then Simi and Haze would probably drag me into something else."
You both laugh, and the tension that had lingered at the beginning of the night dissipates entirely. The conversation starts to flow naturally, easily, like you've known each other far longer than the hour you've spent together. You talk about your shared love for travel, the challenges of maintaining privacy in the entertainment world, and the tiny moments of joy that help keep you both grounded amidst the chaos of your careers.
As you chat, Jennie becomes more animated, her laughter spilling out freely as she shares funny anecdotes from her time as a trainee and stories about her bandmates. You find yourself relaxing more with every passing minute, captivated not just by her beauty—though it's hard not to be—but by the way she listens, really listens, and how she speaks with such genuine interest.
At one point, she leans forward conspiratorially, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Okay, so you have to tell me... worst audition story."
You groan dramatically, burying your face in your hands. "Oh no, you're going to make me relive my trauma?"
Jennie laughs, a full, bright sound that makes your heart do a funny little flip. "Come on! I bet it's not as bad as you think."
You sigh, knowing you can't back out now. "Alright, fine. So, this was a few years ago when I was still trying to break into the industry. I got called in for this small role in an indie film—nothing big, but I was excited because it was one of my first real auditions."
Jennie nods, her eyes wide with anticipation, clearly enjoying where this is going.
"I walk into the audition room, ready to give it my all," you continue, gesturing for effect. "And I'm halfway through this really emotional monologue, right? Tears in my eyes, pouring my heart out. I'm thinking, 'This is it, I'm nailing it.' And then... I notice the casting director is on his phone."
Jennie gasps dramatically, her hand flying to her mouth. "No way."
"Way," you say, grinning at her reaction. "I froze. Completely forgot my lines. And the guy didn't even notice because he was too busy scrolling through Instagram."
Jennie bursts out laughing, shaking her head in disbelief. "That's awful! I'm so sorry, but that's hilarious."
You can't help but laugh too, even though it had been a mortifying experience at the time. "Yeah, it wasn't funny back then, but now I can laugh about it."
Jennie wipes a tear from her eye, still giggling. "Well, I'm sure you showed them after that. Look at you now."
You shrug playfully. "I'd like to think so."
The conversation continues well into the night, and before you know it, you're both finishing dessert—a shared chocolate lava cake that Jennie insisted you try. There's a contentment between you now, a warmth that feels... easy. Natural. Like this is exactly where you're supposed to be, sitting across from her, trading stories and smiles.
— — — —
As the evening winds down, you find yourself not wanting it to end. You've enjoyed every moment with Jennie, from the initial nerves to the laughter and everything in between. She's more than just a superstar—she's funny, smart, kind, and down-to-earth in ways you never would've expected.
Jennie looks up from her plate, catching your eye, and there's something in her gaze that makes your heart skip a beat. It's soft, almost shy, and it takes you by surprise because up until now, she's been so confident, so self-assured. But in this moment, she seems a little... uncertain.
"I had a really good time tonight, Y/N," she says quietly, her voice sincere. "I didn't know what to expect, but... this has been nice. Really nice."
You smile, your heart swelling at her words. "I had a great time too. Honestly, I'm glad Simi and Haze dragged me into this."
Jennie laughs softly, nodding. "Yeah, they're good at that."
For a moment, neither of you speaks, the air between you charged with something unspoken. It's not awkward, but there's a tension there—a kind of anticipation that hangs in the space between you.
And then, without really thinking, you say, "Do you want to take a walk? It's still early, and I'm not ready for the night to end just yet."
Jennie looks up, surprised, but then her expression softens into a smile. "I'd like that."
You both stand up from the table, and as you exit the restaurant together, stepping out into the cool night air, you can't help but feel a flutter of excitement in your chest. The streets are quieter now, the city settling into a calm lull, and the moon hangs low in the sky, casting a soft glow over everything.
Jennie walks beside you, her hands tucked into the pockets of her coat, and for a few moments, neither of you speaks. It's a comfortable silence, though, and you're content to just be in her presence, enjoying the quiet rhythm of your footsteps on the pavement.
After a while, Jennie glances over at you, her lips curving into a small, playful smile. "So... what do you usually do after a date?"
The question catches you off guard, and you feel a blush creeping up your neck. "Uh, I don't know. I don't go on a lot of dates, to be honest."
Jennie laughs softly, her gaze flicking up to the stars. "Yeah, me neither."
There's a pause, and then she adds, "But if I did, I think I'd want to end it on a high note. Something memorable."
You turn to look at her, intrigued. "Like what?"
Jennie stops walking for a moment, her eyes meeting yours with a spark of mischief. "Something like this."
Before you can Before you can fully process what's happening, Jennie steps closer, closing the distance between you in one smooth, deliberate motion. The soft glow of the streetlights casts a gentle light on her face, and for a split second, time seems to slow. Her eyes flick down to your lips and back up to meet your gaze, silently asking a question.
Your heart pounds in your chest as you feel the tension between you build, an electric current that hums in the air. It's not rushed or forced—it feels like the natural culmination of everything that's happened tonight. Every laugh, every shared story, every glance has led to this moment. And before you even have a chance to overthink it, you find yourself nodding ever so slightly, giving her the answer she was waiting for.
Jennie smiles, a barely-there curve of her lips, before she closes the final gap between you. Her lips press softly against yours, and it's like the world falls away, leaving just the two of you in this bubble of quiet intimacy. The kiss is gentle at first, almost hesitant, as if she's testing the waters, but it's enough to send a warm thrill coursing through you.
You respond instinctively, leaning in just a little more, your hand finding its way to her arm as you deepen the kiss ever so slightly. Jennie's hand comes up to cradle your cheek, her touch soft and reassuring, and in that moment, everything feels right. There's no pressure, no expectations—just the sweetness of this unexpected moment, the soft brush of her lips against yours.
When Jennie finally pulls back, it's slow and unhurried, her forehead resting against yours for a brief moment before she steps back slightly, her eyes still half-closed as if savoring the moment. You both stand there, breathing softly, the cool night air swirling around you, but neither of you says anything at first. There's no need for words right now.
Jennie's eyes flutter open, and when she looks at you, there's a soft glow in her expression—a quiet joy that mirrors what you're feeling. "That," she whispers, her voice barely above a breath, "felt like a high note."
The warmth of Jennie's lips still lingers as she steps back, her breath mingling with yours in the cool night air. The kiss was soft, tender—unexpected in all the best ways. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the silence not awkward but charged, as if you're both savoring what just happened.
Jennie looks at you with a quiet smile, her eyes glowing beneath the streetlights, her hand still resting lightly on your arm. "That was..." she trails off, her voice soft and full of emotion she doesn't seem to have the words for.
You grin, feeling giddy, your heart still pounding from the kiss. "Yeah... that was something."
Jennie laughs, a light, carefree sound that fills the quiet street. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, looking almost bashful for the first time tonight. "I'm glad Simi and Haze set this up. I didn't expect to have such a good time."
"Same," you reply, your voice coming out a little breathless. "Honestly, this whole thing has been kind of surreal."
Jennie tilts her head, her gaze softening. "Surreal can be good, though. Sometimes you just have to go with it." Her lips quirk up into a smile, and you feel a rush of warmth spread through you.
Before you can respond, Jennie glances down the street, her expression shifting slightly. "My manager should be here any minute," she says, her tone almost apologetic. "Duty calls, unfortunately."
Your stomach dips a little, not quite ready for the night to end, but you nod, understanding. She's Jennie Kim, after all—idol, global sensation. She doesn't get to slip away unnoticed like the rest of the world.
Jennie seems to sense your hesitation, and she reaches out, her fingers brushing yours for just a second longer than necessary. "But," she says, her voice lowering conspiratorially, "this doesn't have to be goodbye forever, you know."
Your heart skips a beat at her words. "Oh?"
Jennie leans in slightly, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "I think we should do this again. Soon."
Your breath catches in your throat, and all you can manage is a wide-eyed nod. "I'd really like that."
Jennie's smile widens, and just then, a sleek black car pulls up to the curb, the back door opening as her manager steps out. Jennie glances at the car, then back at you, her eyes lingering on yours for a beat longer than expected.
"Well," she says with a playful sigh, "I guess this is where I make my dramatic exit."
You chuckle, trying to keep the moment light, though your pulse quickens as you realize it's really happening—she's leaving. But before you can get too caught up in that thought, Jennie does something that makes your heart nearly stop.
She blows you a kiss. It's casual, light, but there's something about the way she does it—her eyes sparkling with mischief, her lips curling up just so—that makes it feel intimate, as if the two of you are sharing a private joke that no one else in the world could understand.
"Don't forget me," she says, her tone playful, but there's an underlying sincerity in her voice that catches you off guard.
You laugh, shaking your head as your heart does a little flip. "Trust me, I couldn't if I tried."
With one last smile, Jennie gives you a little wave before turning and slipping into the backseat of the car. The door closes behind her with a soft click, and you watch, rooted to the spot, as the car pulls away from the curb and disappears down the street.
For a moment, you just stand there, blinking in the quiet night, trying to process what just happened. Then, all at once, the excitement hits you like a tidal wave.
"Oh my God," you mutter under your breath, your hands coming up to cover your face as a wide grin breaks across your lips. "Oh my God."
You can't help it—you start bouncing on your toes, your whole body buzzing with an energy you can't contain. The cool night air feels electric against your skin, and before you even realize what you're doing, you're literally jumping up and down in the middle of the sidewalk like some giddy schoolgirl.
Did you just kiss Jennie Kim? Yes. Yes, you did.
You let out a breathless laugh, your heart pounding in your chest as you pull out your phone, immediately dialing Simi. The line rings once, then twice, before she picks up, her voice full of curiosity.
"Hey, Y/N! How'd it go? Are you still alive, or do I need to come scrape you off the floor?"
You can hardly get the words out, your voice spilling over with excitement. "Simi. I just... I just kissed Jennie Kim."
There's a brief pause on the other end of the line, and then—
"WHAT?"
You can practically hear the shock and excitement in Simi's voice, and it only makes you giggle harder, the joy bubbling up inside of you like champagne.
"I'm not joking!" you say, your voice full of breathless disbelief. "We kissed! Right there on the sidewalk, just now! And it was... amazing. Oh my God, Simi, she's so... she's perfect."
Simi lets out a loud, gleeful squeal, and you have to pull the phone away from your ear for a second as her excitement blasts through the speaker. "I TOLD YOU!" she shrieks, her voice barely containing her joy. "I told you it would be amazing! Oh my God, Y/N, I can't believe this! Haze is going to freak out when I tell her."
You're still grinning like a fool, your heart racing as you try to piece together everything that's just happened. "She blew me a kiss as she left," you add, unable to keep the giggles out of your voice. "Like, a literal kiss in the air. Who even does that?"
"Jennie Kim, that's who!" Simi shouts through the phone, her voice full of pride. "Oh my God, I knew she'd like you. I knew it. You're going to be the next power couple, I swear!"
Your face heats up at the thought, but you can't deny the thrill that rushes through you at her words. You bite your lip, trying to keep from getting too carried away, but the way Jennie had looked at you, the softness in her smile, the kiss—it all felt so real, so full of potential.
"Simi," you say, still catching your breath from both the excitement and the kiss, "I don't even know how to process this. I mean, I went into this thinking it was going to be awkward and weird, but... she was so easy to talk to. Like, we really connected."
Simi lets out a dreamy sigh on the other end. "You're totally smitten, aren't you?"
You laugh, running a hand through your hair. "Maybe just a little."
"Good," Simi says, her voice full of satisfaction. "Because I think Jennie's smitten too."
You feel your heart skip at the thought, remembering the way Jennie had smiled at you, the way she'd leaned in for that kiss. You can't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, Simi is right.
"Well," you say with a grin, "I guess we'll see."
Simi giggles, clearly as thrilled as you are. "I'm so proud of you, Y/N. Seriously. You deserve this."
You can't stop smiling, your excitement and nerves still buzzing under your skin as you stand on the sidewalk, the city quiet around you. "Thanks, Simi. Really. This was... honestly, one of the best nights I've had in a long time."
"And it's only the beginning," Simi says, her voice full of promise. "I can feel it."
You hang up the phone, still grinning from ear to ear, and for a moment, you just stand there, staring up at the sky. The stars are twinkling above you, the city sounds distant and far away, and all you can think about is Jennie—her smile, her kiss, her soft laughter.
You don't know where this is going, but for the first time in a long time, you feel like something special is just beginning. And you can't wait to see what happens next.
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luveline · 2 years ago
Text
𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 | 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫
when internet trolls poke fun at your appearance while working on a case, hotch is there to make you feel better. fem!reader, 3k
tw cyberbullying, poor eating habits, criminal minds typical violence
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
You're not a media liaison or anything close, but with JJ off for maternity leave and Penelope in Quantico, there's a face needed for the press announcement on TV, and you offer to step in. 
You aren't particularly eager to do it, but Hotch doesn't have the time or wherewithal and such a high intensity case, not while Spencer is at half-mast, migraines rendering him ineffective and stubborn. You're trying to keep the ship sailing smoothly, doing your part of the profiling while juggling media and supporting the police sergeant that's heading the tip line.
You're not expecting to become a joke. After a red-eye, three sleepless nights trying to find a missing woman in Oklahoma —the domestic violence capital— and a full day without something to eat, you're aware you don't look your best, but you aren't sure what that has to do with your missing person. 
The FBI — fugly bitches International. #FindDanaLangley
Damn, are they not letting those agents sleep or what? She looks terrible ! 
she should be less worried about Dana Langley and more concerned with the dead woman in the mirror, ew 
hope theu find her just so they stop putting this creature on TV #FindDanaLangley
"Well," you murmur, wondering if it would be inappropriate to burst into tears, "these aren't especially helpful." 
Derek looks at you, his gaze measured, and you know he's not sure how to react to you or what's happening. He settles on his usual loving encouragement, because he's a very good friend. 
"Don't listen to all that," he says, throwing his arm around your shoulder, "those trolls wouldn't know beautiful if it hit them in the face. But we could always try it?" 
You sink into his hold, needing the reassurance even if you wish you didn't. "No hitting," you say, covering your mouth to hide a large and possibly fugly yawn. Your head is racing with regurgitated insults. "It doesn't matter, Derek. Promise. We have bigger stuff to deal with." 
The door opens and Hotch and Emily step inside, Rossi just behind them. You're thinking Hotch is going to agree with your sentiment, no time for comfort when a woman's life is at stake, so you move away from Morgan to sit in front of your laptop again. 
"Is something wrong?" Hotch asks. 
You meet his eyes just long enough to smile at him. "Nothing. What did Amandla have to say?" 
Emily retells the alibi of Dana's ex-girlfriend and is clearly suspicious but without proof, you're forced as a team to move on to the next lead. Spencer returns shortly afterward and you try to brainstorm your next step. 
It's Penelope that pulls through. "You asked me to cross reference the neighbours at Dana's previous address with people crossing state lines, right, after that one guy ended up being kinda icky? Well I did that, and nothing came up, which was–" 
"Garcia," Hotch interrupts. 
"Right. Long story short, one of the neighbours recently had an extreme falling out with Icky Guy after a years long friendship, his name is Justin Mantova, he has extreme PTSD with documented episodes of confused aggression, and he's been seen coming in and out of a storage unit in Paseo Storage Solutions for the past four days." 
"Address?" Hotch asks. 
"Already sent to your phones." 
"Thank you, Pen," you say. 
"Just go catch the bad guy, pretty girl," she says. 
Ah, so she's seen the tweets too. You frown rather than smile, reminded again of what's been said and wishing you could be anywhere else. 
You get your wish and forget all about personal grievances for a while, concerned with the safe location and extraction of Dana Langley. The operation is clean, and she's hurt but has a great chance at a full recovery. It's quick, it's professional. 
You're falling asleep in the SUV on the way back. Hotch at the wheel, Spencer in the backseat, you rub your eyes from the passenger side and try not to look suspiciously morose, but it's impossible. Hotch is too good at his job. 
"Are you sure everything's okay?" he asks. With Spencer's window open and the wind whipping, it's hard to hear him. 
"Hm?" 
"Is everything okay?" 
"I'm just tired." You don't look at him. It's rude of you, but if what they've said is true —you'd seen the photographs, and you looked tired, sure, but you still looked like you. "Just tired," you say again. You snap your mouth closed when your voice wobbles. 
Hotch is regularly too sweet on you. Most of the team say it's a crush. Emily calls it 'character development. Whatever it is, he's nice to you. He warmed up to you near immediately when you first joined the team, and he's been as welcoming months later as he was in your first week. 
Maybe he feels sorry for me, you think, submerging yourself inch by inch into self pity. 
The three of you regroup with the others at the police station to pen immediate recounts of what happened before you can forget, tying up loose ends. 
Finally you're able to go back to the hotel. Another half an hour and you're in the lobby.
"We'll go home in the morning. Nine AM flight, meet in the lobby at eight thirty," Hotch says. "Get some rest." 
You disband. They've squeezed you in all over the place, and you're lucky enough to be next to the elevator on the second floor. Hotch is the third floor, and everyone else the sixth, so you say goodbye to your colleagues and exit the elevator, stepping onto the second floor with a parting smile.
You can't know it, but Hotch notices the way your smile falls before the doors have well and truly closed. Your shoulders slump in defeat. 
You trudge into your room and don't bother turning on the lights. The door closes behind you and the mask you'd been holding up starts to crack. You put your laptop in the closet despite temptation to boot it up, knowing no good can come of looking at the tip hashtag again. 
You head into the bathroom to pee, and you're confronted with your appearance as you wash your hands. 
You stare at yourself. 
You look tired. 
Tears well as you look at yourself. You're not those things those people said. You're pretty, and when you smile everyone knows it. There's nothing so beautiful as a smile. You can't summon one, but you know it's the truth. 
Or, it should be. 
A single tear falls down your cheek, quickly followed by a second, and a third from the other eye. You ignore them, tracing the line of your bottom lip, the texture of your skin on your cheeks, the slight sunken effect of your under eyes. 
A knock makes you flinch. "Fuck," you say, wiping your cheek with the back of a hand, twisting on the spot like looking into your room might reveal whoever it is at the door. Probably one of your team. "Hello?" you call. 
"It's me. It's Hotch. I know it's after hours, but I wanted to speak with you."
Whatever reassurance he has to give might actually make this all much worse. You don't want any pity from anybody, you just want today to be over. Still, you wiggle your toes into the plush hotel carpeting, debating only for a moment about the pros and cons of pretending to be asleep. 
"Hey," you say, opening the door. You wipe your eyes and hope he takes it for a tired gesture rather than a method of hiding the glassy sheen at your waterline. "Hi, Hotch, how are you feeling?" 
"Fine. Tired. Thank you for asking." 
"Do you want to come in?" you ask. 
"Please." 
Hotch follows you into your room. There's an armchair across from the bed next to a desk and an old TV sitting atop it. Your suitcase is still open on your bed, your pyjamas crumpled in the shell. You close it before Hotch can see. That's another thing to add to your list: being a slob. 
"It's very clean in here," he says. 
You startle. "What?" 
"It's clean, considering how long we've been here. Have you ever seen Spencer's room at the end of a case?" he asks. 
"No, is it bad?" 
"It's like a paper hurricane."
You look down at your knees, hyper aware of his gaze on your face, tired of feeling uneasy in your skin. 
"I wanted to say thank you for doing the press release yesterday. You did an amazing job. It's something to be proud of." 
Of course he's talking about the press release, the one thing you need to not think about. 
"Did Derek tell you?" you ask. 
"Tell me what?" he asks, voice sharpening.
You look up. Hotch is a picture of concern, professionalism slightly off centre. 
"Nothing." 
"Something's been bothering you. Something Derek should've told me, I'm guessing." 
You chew over your words. "Uh. Hotch, it's really nothing, it's a hiccup. The press release, I…" You really don't want to have to say it. The words get stuck at the back of your throat.
He leans forward. "What?" 
"I looked sick. On TV. I looked really unwell, and it– it actually–" Why are you stammering? What's wrong with you? You laugh and it's not your laugh but it's better than your nonsense stuttering. "Sorry. On the press release, I didn't look my best, and it was a hot topic. That's what I thought Derek told you about. But I don't need anyone feeling sorry for me, Hotch." 
"I don't feel sorry for you." 
You wince, "No, of course not." 
"Two seconds," he says, putting his hand forward in the air between you. "A hot topic? I don't understand." He looks genuinely apologetic. 
"The tip line got clogged up with comments about my appearance," you say. You phrase it as a professional error rather than the embarrassing event it represents in your personal life.
His lips curl downward. "Saying you looked tired." 
"Saying I looked unagreeable." 
"As a friend," he says, tone softening, "could you tell me what they said?" 
Heat blooms in your cheeks and behind your eyes, your throat aching as you scratch at a nonexistent itch in the crook of your elbow. "Um. Well, there was a lot of them, and they weren't all about me, but the ones I saw, they seemed to think I needed more sleep. That I–" 
Hitch rarely interrupts, but something in your voice must impel him. "What did they say?" he asks again. 
"That I looked like a creature. That they hoped Miss Langley would be found, so that they didn't have to see my face on TV again. Hotch," you say, your throat sounding as tight as it feels, "it was pretty bad, but it really doesn't matter." 
"I think it matters if it's upset you," he says. 
He has the warmest voice when he wants it to be, so dulcet, almost melodic. You'd think it was a practised phrase, but he speaks freely. 
"It didn't," you lie. 
Pointless in your line of work and automatic anyways. Hotch doesn't deny you the safety of your untruth, but he doesn't entertain it, either. 
"You're beautiful when you're tired," he says. 
You don't mean to, but you hold your breath. The silence that follows his remark is deafening. 
"You're beautiful," he says, again, as though you could've missed it the first time. "Regrettably, you're very tired, but you don't look any less pretty. Don't think what was sent in to the tip line has any merit." 
"Are you saying that as my friend or my boss?" you ask. It's meant to be a joke that lightens the mood. 
"Neither," Hotch says.
You gawp, and then falter. "Why…" 
Hotch is close enough to offer a hand, and you're feeling stupid enough to take it. He squeezes tenderly, looking you straight in the eye. "I'm sorry about what's being said. I had no idea. We can pull the video, and the tipline should stop now Dana's been found, but it doesn't erase what's already happened. I'm so sorry. It's not right, and it's not fair." 
"It's a hard job, right?" you ask.
His hand is so so big, and not as soft as you'd pictured. It doesn't make a difference, not when he's touching you like you might shatter. 
"That's not the job," he says.
"It's silly to care, though. About what other people think." 
"I hope you care about what I think. The merit of an opinion comes from the person, and the relationship you have with them. Anyone who knew you would know that you're beautiful." 
"Inside that counts," you say, not fully comforted, but trying to give him an out. 
"You're beautiful on the outside," he says, giving your hand a small shake. "You're an amazing woman, of course. But I, for one, enjoyed seeing your face on TV."
You try not to smile too hard, directing your gaze at your joined hands lest he get a read on you.
Hotch must know how you feel about him. He'd be an awful profiler if he didn't. You fawn when you're around him even now, months down the line from your very first meeting when you were sure your heart would ricochet from your chest, the intensity of your instant crush like nothing you'd felt, not even as a schoolgirl. He'd been tall, striking, classically handsome and completely unaware of the fact. Now he's sitting across from you and he doesn't seem so tall, nor so striking. His caring side shines like a gem. It's blinding, and it really does make you feel better. 
"I cried in the bathroom," you confess, rubbing your thumb against his in minute, near imperceptible circles. "I wish it didn't matter to me, how I looked. I know I was doing something important, and there wasn't time to freshen up. Maybe I should've just asked somebody else." 
"You did it perfectly. You were perfect. No one else could have delivered the profile to the public that professionally, and that astutely." 
Hotch stands up, and you don't know what to do. You decide to look up at him just as he takes your face into his hands. 
"No crying in bathrooms, okay? It would… it breaks my heart thinking about it. You come to me."  
Such a dramatic statement, yet Hoch lays it out like it's an unquestionable truth. No bravado, only a sincerity that makes your throat hurt. His frown slides back into place as his palms warm your cheeks. 
"You're so busy, I could never," you say, shaking your head. 
"Time and place, sure, but. I will always try to make time for you. I hope you know that by now." 
You nod dazedly. Hotch's hands drag with a pressure down to your neck, your shoulders, leaving tingling skin in their wake. He looks at you and time stretches, a few seconds pulled out of order. It's his closeness, and his affectionate, empathetic smile. 
You nod again. 
He relaxes. 
"Try and get some rest, okay? You need to take care of yourself. I know it's hard to ignore how you feel, I know today was hard, but you're one of the strongest people I've ever met. I have faith in you." He gives your shoulder a final squeeze. "Are you alright?" 
"Yeah," you say. It comes out much more quietly than intended.
"Rest, honey. Call me if you're upset again. I mean it." 
He smooths your cheek with the back of his forefinger and you wonder if this is some weird fantasy. Hotch makes for the door, and you know for sure it's real when he says, "And no more caffeine tonight." 
"No more caffeine," you agree. 
He doesn't realise he's twice as bad as a coffee. Your heart races all by itself, his phantom touch on your cheek. 
"Hi, beautiful," Derek says. 
"There's the girl of the hour," Rossi says. 
You roll your arm in a bow, eyes stinging from the bright lobby lights but otherwise quite happy. Hotch called you beautiful last night. Hotch called you honey. People on the Internet who have nothing better to do thought you looked gross, but Hotch thinks you're pretty. It's hard to focus on the negative with a positive that good. 
"Good morning, my favourite boys," you say sweetly. 
Spencer looks up from his book. "Hey." 
"You didn't say hello," you say, "you excluded yourself." 
Spencer frowns and goes back to his book. You offer him a mini cookie from your pocket and he perks up, better when you whisper, "You know you're my favourite, Reid." 
"We all know that's a lie," Emily says, rolling her small suitcase to your left and nearly trampling your foot. 
"Unfortunately so," Rossi agrees. 
"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about." 
"Hotch looks chipper this morning, doesn't he?" Derek asks, nodding. You follow his nod too quickly and give yourself away, earning a scattered round of laughter from your tired team. "Got you."
"Laugh it up," you say. You're on a high that can't be killed, even with their collective teasing. 
"Why are we laughing?" Hotch asks from behind you. 
You jump half out of your skin. 
"We were laughing at Y/N's swift observational skills, but we spoke too soon," Emily says.
Hotch takes a moment to smile at you. "Hey, you look a little more rested. Feeling better?" 
A flush rises to your cheeks. "Much," you say, sounding foreign to your own ears. 
Hotch gives a pleased nod and clasps your shoulder gently before manoeuvring around you. "Let me go see where JJ is." 
He walks around the lobby corner and into the hotel restaurant. You have your face in your hands before he's gone, harassed by quiet whistles and giggling. 
"She's so embarrassed!" Rossi cheers, like a proud dad. "How hopeless, young love." 
"Someone please shut him up," you beg, rubbing your aching eyes. It's an excuse to hide your smile a moment longer. 
"Are you still tired?" Spencer asks. "You look tired."
"She does not," Derek says severely. 
You raise your head with a smile. Tired or not, Hotch thinks you're beautiful. He liked seeing you on TV. You lavish the memory.
"I'm genuinely exhausted," you say eventually, a smile stretching from cheek to cheek as you stand tall again.
"I want whatever kind of tired you're feeling," JJ says as she arrives, Hotch a step behind her. 
You meet his eyes. You think he might not acknowledge what's been said between you —it wasn't strictly professional to have held your face in his hands like that, after all— and the beginnings of disappointment creep in, until he stands at your side, his fingertips brushing yours. It cannot be accidental. 
"She wears it well, doesn't she?" he asks the group. He gives no time for an answer. "Everyone ready?" 
You practically vibrate your way to the SUV. Not a bad case, as they go. 
 ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
thank you for reading, so much! I hope you enjoyed! if you did and you have the time, please consider reblogging cos it makes me happy <3
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cheriladycl01 · 10 months ago
Note
I have just got into F1 and it’s fast become my autistic hyperfixation and I’m glad I’ve found writers like you! I was wondering if maybe you could write something for Nico? He’s my favourite! Maybe reader has a bad crash or something similar to your heat fic where reader faints into his arms/ has a febrile seizure from dehydration and heat stroke after a race? Just lots of hurt/comfort. No worries if it doesn’t inspire. Thank you for doing what you do 💕💕
The Toughest Race so Far - Nico Hulkenburg x Driver! Reader
Plot: After one of the toughest races of your life, you and Nico need to have serious conversation about your health.
A/N! 1) I'm hoping i got the right Nico and you didn't want Nico Rosberg! If you did, let me know and I'll right one for Nico Rosberg! 2) As someone with ADHD, i 100% get the hyperfixation and how much it grips you!
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You were getting out the car, well trying to and your legs and arms refused to work. It was like they were actually glued to the seat. You just sat there, head ringing not really sure what to do and how to gp forward.
Some of the Stake Team come up to you, checking to see if you were actually alive in the cockpit or if you'd passed out. Your own team hadn't come and found you yet.
They start to try talk to you but nothings going in, and staying in so your communication is ineffective.
You feel void of anything and all the sounds around you are blurring into one. There's a numbness in your hands and legs that is burning but also non-existent, like numbness should be. It was confusing for your mind that had just gone through that uphill battle of a race.
It was like your body was failing on you and you could only sit back and watch it.
Eventually your team, of RedBull come over to you. Not that you could tell the difference between the Stake Suits and the Red Bull ones at this point, faces were just blobs right now and your mind couldn't comprehend colours.
They reach in to help lift you out so your stood up outside the car leant against the body. One of the mechanics has a hand resting on your arm keeping you steady while another reaches to take your helmet off and another goes for you balaclava that's covered in saliva.
However, the minute your legs are left to work for themself with out the support they starts to wobble. Your head starts to spin, and your vision blurs, the last thing you could remember being your body convulsing before you smacked the door where you continued shaking.
"Oh my god! Someone help her!" someone exclaimed as they saw you on the floor and seconds later a medical team that were already on their way heading towards you after being radioed by the team you weren't looking too great.
There were people flooding around you, one of them opened up your race suit that was drenched through.
"Babe?" a voice called as Nico jumped out his car spotting you thrashing on the floor. He himself wasn't feeling great from the heat either but you'd just managed to fight your way from P20 all the way up to P6 to get in the points.
It was probably the drive of your career having set the fastest lap, fastest pit stop and received driver of the day. Despite all the podiums, wins and poles you'd had, this was the drive.
He looked over you as they took you onto the stretcher as you were unresponsive.
"What's wrong with her is she okay?" he asks walking over closer to the medics that were surrounding you.
"We aren't sure but we need to get her to the medical tent right away, please go back to your team!" one of them says while they fit an oxygen mask around your mouth.
Nico spent his entire debrief not really concentrating on what anyone was saying, he wanted to be out of that room as soon as possible and to see how you were doing.
The minute that they concluded what happened in the race and how they can prepare better for hotter races as a team until the FIA but things into place, Nico was out the door as rushing past the Red Bull motorhome that was pretty quiet. They could all tell he was looking for you, and he just knew you were still with the medics from the look on everyone's face.
He rushed into the tent seeing you calmly sleeping but hooked up to a few different machines. The main one an drip, he knew you must be insanely dehydrated, and with your body temperature already struggling to regulate normally he couldn't imagine how much like hell that car felt to you.
"Is she okay?" he asks the nurse that was currently re-doing the braid in your hair that had gotten a little knotty under your helmet.
"Yes, she scared us all but she'll be fine. She's making a speedy recovery thanks to the doctors quickness and efficiency. She lost 6kg in that race which is very dangerous and she didn't drink anything at all during that race, so we've got her on some water and stuff that will pep her up. She had a minor injury to her shoulder where she fell but other than that she's okay. How long have you guys know she struggles to regulate her body temperature?" she explains and asks all in one.
"Since she karted, but she loves the sport to much" he chuckles. You'd talked about this with Nico a lot, you had to train your body harder and be stricter when it came to things like exercise and diets because of the condition.
Nico had said many times that it would be safter for you to stop racing all together but that had caused far to many arguments that he'd ended up on the sofa one to many times over.
He knew you loved racing, because he did as well and he hated when he had to leave the sport when no seat was available. So he knew it was something that wouldn't even be on the table for you to consider but he just wished you would.
For your guys' future, he just wanted you safe and at full health.
"She terrifies me when she gets into that car" he smiles looking down at your peaceful body.
"I can imagine, but ... I'm sure you scare her too. She struggles but I think honesty that makes her a better driver, she knows her limits and breaking points better than anyone. Today was a bade race that I cant see them doing at the same time of year ever again, and there may even be regulation changes that'll help. But ... take it from a career passionate woman. She wont give this up" she smiles to him and he glances down at you with his own smile.
"Oh I know she wont" he grins, taking your hand in his.
"Hey baby" he smiles as he sees your eyes flutter.
"Hey" you say back a little confused, looking around the room your in.
"You fainted and had a seizure" he explains grabbing your hand and rubbing his thumb over his knuckles.
"Oh, it was really hot in the car I don't think I ate before the race either because I felt sick!" you offer trying to explain why you were so badly effected.
"You weren't the only one that struggled, Alex, Esteban, Logan and a few others have been down here too. You pushed yourself a lot in that drive, but there's talks of the FIA making some changes for next year!" he explains.
"Mmm, I'm glad their taking action to make it safer for us!" you admit.
"I'm not even going to bother trying to convince you to retire!" he laughs shaking his head.
"We've talked about that before, you know I'm not ready yet. I've been given such a shot in Red Bull!" you smile, knowing he finally understood your view on your career.
"I know, I just worry about you!"
"I worry about you too" you say and pull him down into a kiss.
Taglist:
@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @teamnovalak @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @jlb20416 @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @formula1mount @tinydeskwriter @butterfly-lover @ironmaiden1313
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ebodebo · 8 months ago
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Cat and Mouse
NSFW CONTENT
—ghost is being chased by the police and just so happens to be sleeping with one of them. of course, she doesn't know that the man she's been sleeping with is also the man her department has been trying to find, but he does.
—ghost x f!reader
—2k+
wanna be on my taglist ? fill out this form !
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The night sky was aglow by the bright street lamps, showcasing the streets demure appearance. A blanket of stars coaxing the sky above and the occasional barking of a faraway dog broke the silence of the night. You should be asleep, but the all-too-familiar bench that you took refuge on in the night when you found yourself rustling in your sleep called your name. 
You held a cup of warm tea in your hand while the other grasped around a book you had brought out there. Though, you were too enamored with the simplicity of the streets to open it.
It was comforting to sit and just exist. It was a nice change of pace from the exhilaration and adrenaline that comes with your job. It was kind of expected of you to join the police force since your father had joined the force years ago, eventually getting himself promoted to chief of police, and your brother following suit. 
You didn't mind the expectations, though. You found pleasure in helping citizens and keeping the streets clean. You never really considered it a job; it was more of fulfilling your duty. However, about a month ago, it started to feel like a job.
Your brother was KIA while staking out a trafficking organization downtown. He died saving the life of a fellow officer. It was not only a grave, devasting loss to your family but for the whole city. A selfish part of you wished he wasn't so selfless. A selfish part of you resented the other officer for being able to leave the scene alive and not in a body bag. But, the thoughts subsided when you would see the officer with one of his little girls clinging to his leg and the other resting on his pregnant wife’s hip. You realized that your brother hadn't just saved a police officer that day; he saved an entire family. 
"It's a bit cold. No?" A gruff voice rang next to you, absolving you from your thoughts. You looked up at him, Simon. The man who you had been spending your nights with. But, make no mistake, he wasn't yours. He didn't belong to anyone. He said he couldn't.
"A little, but I have tea to warm me up." You smile up at him, taking a sip of your tea. He nods, then opens his door slightly to grab something hanging on the catch-all hooks, as you call them. 
"For when the tea gets cold." He steps in front of you to gently lay one of his jackets on your lap, engulfing your legs. You give him a smile and curl your legs under you. 
"Can I sit, or is two a crowd?" He questions, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. You'd think this was your first interaction with each other. But, ever since the death of your brother, he's been treading lightly. He doesn't want to upset you or be in your space without your permission.
"It's always been three, Simon." You lightly laugh, gently patting the seat next to you. He accepts the invitation and carefully sits on the wooden bench beside you, delicately laying his arm behind you and draping it over your shoulder.
"You know. I thought it would get easier." You pause, leaning closer, laying your head on his shoulder. "But, it's still hard." You breathe out, feeling a tear stream down your cheek. 
He hums, so you know he's listening, as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. Although most find comfort in people consoling them and telling them everything is going to be alright, you find comfort in knowing he's near you and hears you. Even if it's just a kiss or a lingering touch, knowing he's right there eases your mind.
"And on top of that, the guy I told you about is back." You groan out. Referring to the vigilante, who had recently made his revival after going dormant for the last month. Before he went inactive, he employed acts of murder, kidnapping, and threats of violence to rid all sorts of evil. A uniquely brutal band of justice, indeed. Traffickers, abusers, predators. He dealt with some of the most depraved, wicked souls. But, people nonetheless. Meaning the police couldn't turn a blind eye to this. It was murder after all. Doesn't matter if they had it coming. 
The police department tried to figure out his next move, but he somehow knew all their moves. It was almost like someone was feeding him all their information. They hoped there wasn't a snake in the grass—a person supplying him with all the necessary details he needed to stay untouched and have his getaway prepared. 
The guy in question was Simon, but you didn't need to know that. He also didn't need to tell you that his intel was unknowingly coming straight from the police chief's daughter, you.
"I just don't understand why he came back so out of the blue." You sigh, rubbing your tired eyes with the back of your hand. 
"I'm not sure." He supplied as he gently massaged your hip with his hand. 
"I mean, theoretically speaking, if he would have just laid low for the rest of the year and part of next, the captain would have told us that we needed to "start allocating our resources to other cases with activity and leads." You say, picking your hands up quickly to make quotation marks. "And the case would grow cold and start collecting dust. It would almost be like he'd be getting away scot-free." 
"Maybe it's not about that." He plainly stated, bringing his hand to pull his jacket that was lying in your lap, up around your chest.
"About what?" You questioned, looking up at him. 
"Not gettin' caught." You tilted your head. "Look." He started. "I know guys like him. I've worked with guys like him."
"Murderers?" You bluntly said. 
"Somethin' like that." He breathes out. "But, my point is that the guy isn't doin' this to stroke his ego or see how far he can go before he gets caught. I think it's because he wants justice."
"Justice?" You repeated. 
"Justice." He affirms, nodding his head. 
"How is murdering people justice?" You skeptically question.
"I'm not sayin' I agree with the guy. I'm just tellin' you what I think." He says.
Simon knows he shouldn't be going in-depth on the guy's thoughts, AKA him. It was stupid and reckless. You could get suspicious as to why he was being defensive of a murderer. But, he wasn't too concerned with you reading too much into what he was saying because, as of late, your mind has been consumed with your own thoughts.
"It's gettin' late. We should be headin' inside. Ya?" You nodded as he stood and extended his hand for you to grab. You reached your hand up, and his fingers tenderly wrapped around yours. 
Simon led you to his room. You made your way to his bed and fell onto it stomach first, letting out a deep sigh. Simon let out a laugh. "Comfortable. Huh?" He questioned, slipping his shirt off.
"It's always comfortable." You said as you breathed in the scent of the clean linen laundry detergent he used. "I'm glad. I'm just gonna' take a shower. You'll be okay?" He asked as he stripped himself of his sweatpants. 
"Simon, it's like one a.m." You turn over on your back, eyes wandering over Simon's abdomen. "Was sweatin' " He clarified as he ducked under the doorway to the bathroom, connecting to his room.
You stole glances into the bathroom since the son of a bitch left the door open. He peeled off his underwear, revealing his cock before stepping into the shower, obscuring your view.
You lay there for a whole five minutes before the scent of Simon's body wash lingered into his room, filling your nostrils. You stood up and stripped yourself of your clothes, until you were completely naked. 
Simon faced towards the showerhead, one hand on the wall, the other wiping away the water streaming onto his face. You stepped into the bathroom doorway and slowly opened the shower door, bringing your hands up to wrap around his abdomen.
"Finally decided to join me. Huh?" He turned to face you, letting his hand run up your back before threading it through your damp hair while the other slid down your back, landing just above your ass.
"Didn't want you to be lonely." You smirked, standing on your tiptoes to kiss his pec. 
"Is that what it was?" He titled his head, before bringing it down to your lips to engulf them with his. It started gentle and tender, but it became hungrier when you nipped his bottom lip with your teeth.
He pulled you closer before he lightly pinched your ass, making you yelp. He used the opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth. His hands roamed your body, eventually settling on your breast, giving it a gentle squeeze, electing another moan from you.
"Simon, I need you." You pant as you cling to his neck for stability.
"Where do you need me?" His voice was barely above a whisper. The roughness of it made you even wetter than you already were. His hand slid down the dip of your cleavage, slowly down to where you ached.
"Where, sweetheart?" Your voice went dry, as he slid his hand over your cunt, making you squirm. "Is this where you want me?" He teased, leaning into your neck, leaving sloppy wet kisses on it, as his hand rubbed soft circles on your clit.
"Right there!" You finally let out, voice hoarse. Simon picks one of your legs up to wrap around his waist so that he can see you more clearly. Your eyes are closed as he shoves his middle finger into you, grazing your sweet spot.
You open your eyes briefly to see Simon's staring into yours. Your face reddens, and you raise one arm to cover your eyes in embarrassment. "Don't go shy on me now." He gruffs as he pulls your arm down, covering your eyes.
"I wanna' see all of you." You stare back at him as he introduces another one of his fingers into you. You throw your head back at the contact and tightly grip his bicep. "Fuck, Simon." You moan.
"Feel good?" He seductively asks as he finds your clit again and rubs it. You swiftly nod your head as you feel a knot tightening in your lower stomach, signaling your climax is near. 
"You wanna come?" He pauses before bending down so his mouth is hovering over your ear. "Ask me nicely." 
"Please, Simon." You instantly say. "Let me come." You beg.
With that, Simon picks up his pace, and soon enough, you come all over his fingers, with his name on the tip of your tongue. He holds your body up as you steadily come off your high.
Simon and you end up washing up, with you helping him sud up his hair and him helping wash your back and ass, per his request. After washing up and having another quick makeout session, you both step out of the shower and put on fresh clothes.
"Where are you going?" You questioned as Simon slipped on his shoes. 
"Gotta' go check on Johnny's dog. Forgot to earlier." He said as he laced his shoes.
"Why do I always have to share you with him?" You joke as you settle into the bed. He laughs as he walks over to you and kisses you on the top of the head. "Be back in thirty." You nod, and he heads out the door. You end up almost immediately lulling off to sleep after he leaves.
You didn't question how odd it was that Simon forgot to check on Johnny's dog all day and waited until two a.m. No, because he never gave you a reason to question his whereabouts.
How unfortunate that you would be walking into the office tomorrow morning to see that yet another body was found, this time of a child predator, being reported on the small television you found your colleagues surrounding.
Must be a coincidence.
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reblogs & comments are encouraged!
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sosa2imagines · 5 months ago
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You, me and Vegas! Part 1
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Warnings- Fluff, drunk idiots.
The city of Las Vegas, Nevada is known for its vibrant strip of casinos, hotels, and entertainment venues.
The bright lights, glitzy resorts, and non-stop excitement create an atmosphere that draws people from all walks of life. Whether it's the high-stakes gambling, world-class shows, or luxury dining, Vegas promises an experience unlike any other city.
Bucky Barnes, a man in his mid-thirties, sat at the bar, his steel-blue eyes reflecting the dim lighting of the room. He swirled the glass in front of him, taking a long, slow sip.
His thoughts were heavy, as the recent job loss hung over him like a dark cloud. He was struggling to keep up with the secret and the pressure was mounting.
Bucky's parents, George and Winnifred Barnes, were prominent figures in society, known for their wealth and social standing.
They had always had a clear vision for Bucky's life, meticulously planning out every detail, from his education to his future career. The pressure to meet their expectations had been a constant presence in Bucky's life, casting a long shadow over his own desires and ambitions.
Bucky took another sip of his drink, feeling the liquid burn as it went down his throat. He stared into the amber depths of his glass, his mind racing.
Losing his architect job had left him feeling lost and confused. The stability he had grown accustomed to was suddenly gone, leaving him grasping for purchase in the chaos. He didn't know what the future held, and the uncertainty gnawed at him relentlessly.
Peach, a woman in her early thirties, sat at a table across the room, her sparkling eyes full of mischievousness.
She was a writer, a free spirit who reveled in life's unexpected turns. Clutching a colorful cocktail in her hand, she observed Bucky over the rim, intrigued by his brooding demeanor.
Despite her own financial struggles, Peach harbored an unshakeable optimism. She was determined to push her worries aside and revel in the moment. Tonight, she was in the mood to enjoy the scenery and escape the constraints of everyday life. And something about Bucky's brooding presence caught her attention.
As Peach made her way to the bar, she couldn't help but notice Bucky, his furrowed brow and taut frame drawing her attention.
She took a seat beside him, her laughter bubbling over as she smiled warmly. “Hey there, tough guy…” she teased, her eyes glimmering in the dim light.
Bucky looked up as Peach took the seat beside him, surprised by her easy-going smile. He gave her a sidelong glance, his eyes roaming over her infectious grin. “What's so funny?” he asked, his rough tone softened by curiosity and the buzz of alcohol.
Peach shrugged, still smiling. “You…” she replied bluntly. “You look like you've got the weight of the world on your shoulders. Mind if I lift some of that burden?”
Bucky huffed, his expression a mix of bemusement and irritation. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?” he asked, taking a swig of his drink.
“Well, first, I think we need to get you out of this funk. You can't solve anything by brooding in a dark bar...” she chided gently, flagging down the bartender.
Turning to Bucky, she added, “And then we might just make a plan. What's got you so weighed down, anyway? I’m Y/n by the way, but everyone calls me ‘Peach.’”
Bucky's shoulders sagged, the weight of his worries pressing down on him. He stared into his empty glass, his eyes cloudy with frustration. “I’m James, everyone calls me Bucky and I lost my job.” he confessed, the words heavy on his tongue.
Peach's grin faded, her expression softening into sympathy. “I'm sorry,” she said sincerely. “That must be really tough.”
Bucky nodded, rubbing his face with a weary hand. “It's more than tough. It's... crushing. I thought I had it all figured out, a steady job, a plan. And now... I've got nothing.”
Peach reached a slender hand to rest reassuringly on Bucky's shoulder. “It might feel like that right now, but there's always a way out.” Her voice was gentle yet firm.
Bucky looked up, meeting her earnest gaze. There was a glimmer of hope in those blue depths; a hope that he didn't want to extinguish. “You make it sound so simple.”
Peach laughed, her eyes sparkling. “Loosen up, Bucky! A little too serious for a weeknight, don't you think?”
Bucky glanced at the time, the alcohol making the numbers blurry. He sighed, pushing himself off the stool. “It's getting late.” he mumbled.
“Ah, come on! Don't leave yet...” Peach protested, a hint of disappointment in her tone. “The night's just getting started.”
Bucky ran a hand through his hair, the alcohol making it difficult to focus. “I... I really should go.” he said, his voice rough.
Peach chuckled, her words slightly slurring as the alcohol took its toll. “Why are you such a tight ass?” she teased, leaning a little closer to Bucky. “You're so tense, so uptight. You need to loosen up.”
Bucky bristled at the accusation, his cheeks flushing slightly. “I am not a tight ass!” he protested, the denial coming out a bit louder than he intended.
Peach smiled slyly as she leaned in, her breath hot against Bucky's ear. “Prove it...” she whispered, a challenge in her voice.
Bucky swallowed, his heart thudding a little faster. Her proximity was intoxicating. He took a deep breath, determined to prove her wrong.
Bucky, feeling a sudden rush of determination, signaled the bartender. “Two more shots!” he barked, his voice rough with drunken determination.
Turning to face Peach, he set the shot glasses on the bar between them. “I'm not a tight ass!” he said firmly, meeting her gaze.
Peach smirked, amused by his sudden display. “You're on...” she retorted, raising her shot glass in a mock toast.
They clinked glasses and downed the shots in one swift gulp. The liquid burned as it went down, fuel for the budding rivalry between the two. Bucky slammed his glass down onto the bar, his eyes locked on Peach's.
“Another!” he declared, a hint of challenge in his voice.
Peach raised an eyebrow, impressed by his defiance. “You're braver than I thought.” she teased, flagging down the bartender for another round.
The second shot burned just as much as the first, but with it came a wave of liquid courage. Bucky leaned slightly towards Peach, his inhibitions fading with each shot.
“See? I told you. I'm not uptight...” he said, a cocky grin playing at the corner of his lips.
Peach chuckled, enjoying the change in Bucky's demeanor. “One more to settle this.” she proposed, signaling for yet another shot.
They downed the third shot, the alcohol fueling their banter. Bucky felt the alcohol coursing through him, emboldening his words and movements. He leaned a little closer, meeting Peach's challenging gaze.
“Satisfied yet?” he asked, a cocky smirk on his face.
Peach leaned back, her smirk widening. “Almost...” she confessed, the alcohol making her bolder than usual.
“Almost, huh?” Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow. His heart was pounding now, fueled by the alcohol, the challenge, and the unexpected chemistry between them.
And so, fueled by liquid courage, Bucky ordered another round.
As the night wore on and the alcohol fueled their conversation, Bucky and Peach found themselves sharing more than just drinks. They opened up about their dreams, their disappointments, and the sheer absurdities of life.
The buzz of alcohol in their veins loosened their tongues, and they laughed loudly, feeling lighter than they had in weeks. The weight of their worries faded, replaced by the warm, almost giddy sensation of carefree banter.
With the fresh night air hitting their faces, the laughter doubled. They stumbled out of the bar, the neon-lit streets of Las Vegas a dizzying backdrop to their tipsy giddiness.
The cool night air was a stark contrast to the heated banter and alcohol, but it didn't dull their good mood. They leaned on each other for support, their steps unsteady.
As they weaved through the crowds, Peach grabbed Bucky’s hand. “Let’s do something wild!!!!” she declared. “Something that defies all reason.”
Bucky’s heart raced. “Like what?”
Peach pointed to the 24/7 wedding chapel ahead. “Let’s get married.”
Bucky's eyes widened as he followed her pointed finger towards the wedding chapel. The bright neon sign glowed, advertising the one-stop shop for quickie weddings. He stared at Peach, his mind spinning with the implications of her words.
“You can't be seriousss,” he managed to say, the alcohol making his words slur together.
Peach pulled him towards the chapel, her grip on his hand unwavering. “Oh, I'm dead seriousss…” she replied, her eyes sparkling with mischief and a hint of a drunken bravado.
The chapel was small and cozy, but somehow it added to the charm of the moment. The Elvis impersonator, with his sparkly jumpsuit and greasy pompadour, looked on serenely as Bucky and Peach stumbled towards the altar.
They didn't have rings, witnesses, or even proper clothing, but none of that mattered.
The words of the vows were slurred, and they couldn't keep straight faces, but they were serious in their own way. As they pledged their love, or whatever passed for it in their current drunken state.
Bucky and Peach had never felt more alive.
And as they kissed, “I now pronounce you man and wife,” the Elvis impersonator declared, his voice booming with exaggerated gravitas.
Bucky and Peach looked at each other, eyes wide and filled with laughter and incredulity.
They had done it—they had drunkenly gotten married in a Las Vegas chapel with an Elvis impersonator officiating. It was insane, ridiculous, and the most spontaneous thing either of them had ever done.
Together, they stumbled back into the night, as husband and wife, weaving their own story amid the glittering lights of Las Vegas.
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Part 2-
Taglist- @imyourbratzdoll @blackhawkfanatic @ordelixx @sapphirebarnes @ilovetaquitosmmmm
@differenttyphoonwerewolf @vicmc624 @thezombieprostitute @nekoannie-chan @emerald-writes
@redbloodedgurl @cjand10 @chemtrails-club @slutforchrisjamalevans @gracescor3
@ghostlythinggoingaround @princezzjasmine @3xclusivemariii @ephemeral-oasis @zuri-767-666
@geeky-politics-46 @dexter99 @calwitch
@caplanreblogsfics @winterslove1917
@pono-pura-vida @renegadesgirl1991 @iwudbutnah @ghalouha @sebastians-love @saranghaey @greatmistakes @baw1066
@bucks-babe @lolzies123r @lovely-geek
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readychilledwine · 4 months ago
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Till Death Do Us Part
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SJM Villains Week - Day One - Origin Story
"Are people born wicked, or do they have wickedness cast upon them?" -Wicked the Musical
Summary - Beron had known love once in his life, and even that was ripped from him
Warnings- This fic has some heavy topics. A whole species of fae is hunted for their wings until extinction. While it is not done in great detail, if that will potentially trigger you, please consider skipping this.
Other warnings- reader Death, spousal abuse, domestic, and child abuse inferred, loss of a spouse, death of a mate, in summary, just not my normal happy love story. Edited and formated on my cellphone, long story, if you see errors, you definitely didn't 👀
A/n - Happy @sjmvillainweek day one. I was sent a request about Beron losing the love of his life being his villain Origin story. I bounced between doing this as a mini series or as a one shot, but landed on the one shot due to mini series that end with reader Death not being a personal favorite of mine, plus, writing reader's death after writing 3 parts of her and Beron falling in love was rough. If you all want it, though, let me know I guess? Today is very out of my box, as you all will see with my Maeve fic queued for later, so to those of you who frequently write reader/oc deaths, I truly admire you. This was hard.
🪽Peep the Wings of Prythian headcanons Here 🪽
🗡Villains Week Masterlist🗡Master Masterlist🗡
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The stake set in the middle of the grounds was the seal on the impact of Beron's actions. 100 years, 100 happy years of keeping her safe, and now he was locked in his own room, trapped as her execution was set up. 
He should have known better, should have hid her better. Her kind was already rare and in the last 100 years, she was finally the last one. One last trophy to hunt and he had led his father right to her. 
Lifeless wings hung high on his wall, still fresh with the scent of her blood.  The luster they carried was fading, the vibrant burnt orange now a muted tone of its former glory. 
Beron put his head in his hands, the faebane chains around his wrists clanging with laughter as he did. He forced his mind back to a happier time. 
Fire Festival had you running around the small market near where the Leaf Folk lived. Mother needed flour. Father needed wine. Your sisters wanted candy. The first of October was special to you all. To your whole race. It was the start of a 31 day process where the females of your race were courted, married, and the hopes of young offspring came. .
Fire Festival was for lovers. It was for passion. It would be your first year to partake, and while you knew it took some females 3 attempts to meet their match, your wings couldn't help but flutter in hope you would meet yours this year. 
As you day dreamed, supplies in a basket, you were blind to the male watching you. An outsider that had vendors closing their doors and windows with customer's inside, mamas rushing their children into their homes.
A voice cleared behind you, pulling you from your daze, “My lady.” It was instant, that snap of the mating bond tugging and tying you two together into a cursed string. ..
The dark-haired male put his hand to his heart, blindly stepping closer to you. Dark hair sat on top of his head, styled and brushed into perfection despite the evidence he had arrived on horseback. His slender face was handsome. Sharper cheekbones, full lips, a nose reminding you of a hawk beak. His clothing was high end, hugging his body as if he was poured into the material. “Beron,” he spoke to you, ripping you from your study of his figure.
“Y/n,” you whispered back, wings moving slightly to be out of sight.
“I have no interest in those,” he motioned towards them. “Only in the rumors of elder flowers in this area.”
You blinked at him, the olive branch you were about to offer him was dangerous, “I can show you if you vow to never speak of this place.”
Beron fought against his father as he was pulled to the temple. He knew the female he was being forced to marry was nice enough, beautiful, wealthy. He was forced to stand at the altar, a knife held to his little sister's back as he did. Aurelia entered either her normal grace, her own face solemn as the fae stood and she was escorted to him by her own proud father. 
Her dress reminded him of a princess from tales of old. Far too large, puffy, and in a shade of white that did not compliment her porcelain skin and hair like fire. 
They were both silent as they took their vows and the count down to your execution began. 2 hours. 2 hours he'd be forced to spend drinking and all that did was encourage more memories of you.
The pull of the bond became too much the following October, and the letters written on oak leaves could no longer be enough for either of you.
You were taking a huge risk, using the first feast and bonfires to sneak to his hunting cabin just a few miles away from the hidden edge village you'd spent your life in.
Beron was waiting on the porch, eyes coming alive as he heard the sound of your leaf-like wings crinkling as you flew over to him. ..
He caught you quickly, arms going around your waist, pulling your head to his chest. .
The first hug of many.
The first night filled with laughter and stolen kisses that'd come with the next 99 years.
He carried your one bag, frowning at your lack of possessions.
"Is this all you have, my love?”
”All I need,” Your tone was confused. “Did you expect more?”
He had. He had expected more than just the 7 dresses he pulled out. More than the one necklace he had given you. More than one more pair of leather shoes.
Beron glanced at you, chocolate eyes slightly sad, “I'm going to give you the world.”
Beron and Aurelia watched in silence as people drank and danced. “You said you were running,” he whispered under his breath to her. “You said you were leaving to prevent this.”
Aurelia looked at him, her whiskey colored eyes narrowing, “Do you think I didn't try to get him to come grab me? Do you think I sat and did nothing despite our deal?”
He rolled his own eyes, “Careful with your tone, wife,” the word felt like ash. 
“Am I your wife? Or is she locked in the fox holes waiting to be the final show for our wedding? Who else has their marriage start with the burning of their husband's who-”
The slap that came before she could finish that sentence made the room fall into silence. Another beginning. Another drastic change. Beron knew Aurelia had sold out the location he kept you in. Her father had been the one to drag you in, bleeding and crying, dress torn. 
Beron's father motioned for the night to continue like nothing had happened, as if he was beaming with pride at his son striking his wife. 
“Just because he didn't want you after you willingly handed him your cunt, doesn't mean I didn't want y/n. I hope you enjoy both of us being as miserable as you clearly are.” 
She sat wordlessly next to him, holding her cheek. She'd been warning of the heavy hands the Vanserra males carried, but Beron had never been aggressive. He'd always been kind to her. But she knew she was you and clearly Aurelia had gotten herself into dangerous territory. 
Beron watched the clock as it ticked an hour. An hour to day dreamed about you.
The wedding of the Leaf Folk were not performed in a temple, an odd thing for Beron as he stood under the oldest apple tree in the groove. Its twisted trunk and tangled branches were almost menacing as you followed his eye. 
You took his hands, whispering in the old tongue and making the tree light up with runes and stories of lovers wed under its branches. You were the last of your kind. The village somehow found and pillaged in one night. The groove of apples around you both was struggling, dying off slowly as its caretakers became a lost memory. “What do we do now?”
"We close our eyes and feel. We will know if the land blesses our union,” you smiled as you answered, closing your eyes. Fireflies began to fill the area, a slight breeze carrying the sounds of gentle music. You both opened your eyes to the deer to the fireflies.
“What the hell,” he paused. “What is this?”
"Approval from the Mother. She has blessed and signed off on our union,” Your hand went to the new rune in the tree, eyes watering as you followed the curves and slopes. “We're married.”
Beron was forced to stand, shackled again as guards made him and Aurelia walk to where he'd be forced to watch you burn. His family and Aurelia's father too spots near them, the other High fae in attendance whispering as they also took places. Public execution in Autumn was a favorite pastime for the rich high fae. They loved watching the poor, the criminals, the low fae burn or be gifts to the trees, consumed root by root. 
His father had known that wasn't an option with you. Had he given you to the trees, the trees would free you. No true crime was committed, and on top of that, your kind was so closely linked to the trees, your life forces depending on each other. 
Beron had tried to warn his father what killing you would do, how his family would lose control of the trees and the forest, how that was a magic given to his family by the Leaf Folks elders hundreds of years ago. A promise not to hunt them, yet every Nobel here had a pair of those wings on their walls. Fresh ones. 
Beron pulled against his chains as he heard you fighting and screaming in the tongue of your people. He watched as you spit on the male dragging you, watched as you spit on his father. 
You had, in many ways, made Beron's life easier. You had killed two of his brothers during your capture, making him the clear heir. You had stabbed his father with something rumors from the healers say wasn't closing, festering in his skin and muscles like an infection. The look of pride as you looked down from your nose towards his father made Beron smirk. You'd die a warrior. Die with not an ounce of fear but instead a river of rage. 
His wife. His powerful fearless wife.
That sneer didn't change as you were tied to the stake. It didn't change as your so-called charges were read. It didn't change as you waited to be given the ability to speak one last time. 
“The last of your kind, yet you won't beg for your life?”
“No,” you answered his father plainly. 
The High Lord seemed surprised as he spoke again, “So you will curse my son to a life of madness?”
“I've cursed your son and court to so much more than that already,” you glared
It was then that Beron noticed the runes carved into your body in captivity. He held his breath as he read each one. As he read the fate your death would seal for this court and for him.
You had been lied to, told he gave away your location, that he handed you away willingly in exchange for the bride sitting next to him. All lies he would never be able to change.
It looked as if you were praying, but Beron knew the signs of Leaf Folk magic now. He knew what was happening as the wind picked up and lightning struck as your pyre was lit. 
Beron shot out of bed, shaking his head as the nightmare replaying her death was fresh in his mind. He still blamed himself, still blamed Aurelia. 700 years later and he wasn't over her. 
But how could he have been? Her curse was a plague on Autumn. A deep rot that settled into the remaining signs of her village first. Then that grove he had married her in. Then the surrounding forest and villages. It was choking off life in his court. Illness, famine, and death followed in its path.
Her curse had not just taken the forest, though, it had taken him. The lifeless mating bond was doubled by what she had down. Beron lost all sense of emotion and Humanity once she was gone. He lost himself. That much was clear by the scars littering his wife and children. By what he had done to Lucien. 
He had no one to blame but himself.
He knew she was forbidden. A female considered low fae with wings like the rustling leaves of this very court, but Beron couldn't stop himself. He couldn't resist the feel of her soft skin, her scent of spun sugar and apples, her soft hair. Her eyes were his favorite thing, so light and bright. Full of life. 
As he held his chest in bed, his sleeping wife was next to him. It was those eyes that haunted him. Those last words whispered before an execution.
“A plague on your houses, a plague on your court, until a son brave enough to kill for what's right comes forth.”
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General Taglist:
@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites @littlest-w01f
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sicklyseraphnsuch · 1 year ago
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The Duality of Simon (or the Importance of Marcy)
Travel back to the early 2010s, when Adventure Time was still a fairly new thing. The fandom was growing, the theories were flowing. We've had confirmation that Ooo is in fact a post appcalyptic world. And then we get:
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Here was living, breathing proof of the intersection between Ooo and our world. Simon Petrikov was a literal connection to the past, and moreover one of the ways Adventure Time really began to develop its inner tragedies.
But honestly, as sad as the Idea of Simon Petrikov was - it remained that he was a relic, an inert tragedy that was a connection to the past, but not necessarily connected to the future.
Enter:
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You can mourn the losses of ages past. But it won't necessarily move you to act. Because there's nothing to compel you. You can stand to gain something but it's more important that you don't lose anything by keeping the status quo. In short, there weren't any stakes.
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No, not those kind of Stakes... Well... maybe a little
So, bear in mind, Betty won't make her debut until two seasons after "Holly Jolly Secrets". To us, she was a non-entity. Simon's grief over her loss was for the audience, a mostly intellectual exercise. How sad for this poor cursed man to lose the woman he loved - replacing all proper nouns with common nouns because we didn't know Simon either. But his situation is clearly sad, just in a general, unspecific way. Because again, there's nothing at stake here.
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Marcy drives thoses stakes up (and into our hearts). Suddenly, Simon becomes Very Very Real because we know Marcy. We've hung out with her for at least five seasons now leading up to the game changing "I Remember You".
By connecting Marcy to this Simon, suddenly we had something to lose - suddenly we already lost something. Marcy gave Simon's curse weight - dimension - texture - rendering it very real instead of a mere intellectual tragedy. Simon matters because he matters to someone here and now, because someone was still crying over him. And we love Marcy. We don't want her to cry.
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It was through the Marcy and Simon relationship that we came to learn of and love Simon. Betty came later. Betty came after. We already loved Simon by then so learning of his love story was just building on that love. Naturally, being invested in the Simon and Betty relationship without prior connection to Simon is possible. But the fact that he was already established and endeared to the audience goes a way into investing in the Simon and Betty relationship.
So we get to Fionna and Cake.
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We get exactly one scene with the Marcy we know and love. And Simon isn't even in the same room as her.
And the show is fully justified in doing so because Fionna and Cake was a series about Simon and Betty. And Simon and Marcy have little to do with that A story (the love plotline). Even if the B story (the recovery plotline) does pay homage to Simon and Marcy by showing Simon that he does have value, the homage amounts to only a few scenes (maybe cumulatively three minutes of screen time) in the whole series.
However, Simon and Marcy's relationship wasn't just to show that Simon is an integral component to the way Ooo came to be, and his impact on the people he loves. Simon and Marcy's relationship is integral to how we came to love Simon - against all odds and all tenets of common sense, a man that was slowly warped by madness chose to take care of a completely unknown little girl that he found in the wreckage of the world.
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The problem here is that Marcy's Simon and Betty's Simon never got to meet in the middle. A lot of this is rooted in the original Adventure Time series where Betty and Marceline never speak more than ten words to each other.
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Literally the only time they share the screen (and no I'm not counting Betty bot in Broke his Crown)
Which is BANANAS considering they are literally the two most important people in Simon's life.
And listen, again, by Fionna and Cake, we are invested in Simon and Betty, especially after what she did during the finale. We want to know about them.
And again, the Fionna and Cake series is well and wholly complete without ever having Simon and Marcy talk.
But it leaves a little ache. Because again, the first opportunity to truly love and connect with Simon came through Simon and Marcy. And we never really know how they get on now that they're back together. We seriously have maybe 10 lines of conversation between them since the finale and this includes Obsidian.
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Literally, he says hi to Marcy twice and that's it. Very meaningful conversation.
Aaaand there's also the supreme irony where in one relationship, Simon never gets a chance to contribute equally, and in his other relationship, Simon wore himself down to nubs giving all that he had. But this duality within Simon is never really connected. There is a throughline here, his impulse for self sacrifice shares a root for his self centered perspective that blinded him to Betty's self effacing habits.
Now here's the thing, Fionna and Cake also built its conflict around Simon's identity and his self worth, etc. Yet it doesn't really contend with all that Simon has done without Betty, and before Ice King. By centering the narrative on only how he was with Betty (both pre and post Mushroom War), we get very little foundation laid out for what he could do after he says goodbye to her.
And this isn't a mistake because again, the series stands on its own just fine. The story works without it because at least that central relationship of Simon and Betty is fully established. But it does come at the cost of a missed opportunity to fully explore the cause of Simon's myopia, or how living through an apocalypse could reinforce that myopia because Simon keeps romanticizing "when his life was great".
Finally, the other downside is that Fionna and Cake stands on its own, maybe a little too much. It's still based on the characters of Adventure Time, building on the love for the original show. So it would have been a crowd pleaser, shall we say some fan service, to get more of what the original show worked hard to make us love.
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forfucksakesniall · 1 year ago
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Heyy so if u don’t mind can u do where lewis and the reader are co-parenting their daughter :) <3<3<3
Don't mind at all. Hope you like this piece.
Aiyla - moonlight or moon glow
Long Way Down
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You tried to work things out with Lewis, but they don't always go as planned. Despite having a plan and thinking things were going fine, you might have been in denial, and both of you took things for granted, resulting in nothing going the right way.
Now, you and Lewis co-parent your adorable 3-year-old daughter, Aiyla.
“Daddy, play outside… please,” Aiyla asks sweetly.
“I’m sorry, baby, but we can’t go outside today... Daddy just needs to do a little more work.”
Aiyla keeps her hands on the glass door of the terrace, admiring the view from inside.
She lets out a deep sigh, and it breaks Lewis' heart to see his daughter like this. He had an emergency meeting with the team to discuss some new upgrades they'll be working on, and it happened while Aiyla was staying with him.
His sweet, loving baby is waiting for him to let her play outside in the garden and with her little playhouse and slide. Lewis can't bear the thought of letting her be alone outside, so he makes her wait by the door with her big, cute, brown eyes, wishing she was on the slide or in the playhouse.
Aiyla goes to Lewis, who was at the table with his laptop and the team.
“Daddy, Mommy?”
He sees her on his lap, trying to reach up and sit with him. He lifts her onto his lap and lets her watch the meeting.
“Um.., Mommy went out for a little while, and she'll be back later.”
“Mommy and me, play please..”
Hearing that makes Lewis rethink the meeting. His baby thinks he wasn't giving her much attention and wants her mommy back.
Shit, he thinks to himself.
“Just a little more, baby… I promise,” he reassures her and kisses the top of her head.
You entered the house as quietly as possible to see how Lewis was dealing with your baby. Unsurprisingly, he was working on his laptop with your child on his lap, trying to have some "quality time" with her. You and Lewis had agreed to meet at your place instead of taking her to the playground to avoid unnecessary attention since your baby daddy was a prominent figure. You chose to keep it private for you and your daughter, despite lingering bitterness. Accepting that it had come to this was hard, and you couldn't help but feel responsible, though that's what you believed in.
You slowly approached them, and your daughter felt your presence, nearly jumping off Lewis' lap, startling him with sudden excitement. He sees you and noticed the disappointment in your eyes.
"I'll take her outside, so you can finish up," you told him as you took Aiyla off his lap and into your arms.
"Hello, my sweet, cute baby. I missed you," you kissed her cheek, and she giggled.
You opened the balcony sliding door, and she got excited, wiggling from your grip to run to the garden. You put her down, and she ran like the wind.
When you turned around, you saw Lewis looking at you with sad eyes, as if he knew he hadn't handled things well, but his life and career were at stake. It wasn't his fault; you put this on him, and now-
Aiyla started patting your leg, distracting you from Lewis, and you looked down at her.
"Daddy play?" she asked.
"I don't think he can-"
"I'll play with you, baby," Lewis said, suddenly right behind you, your faces inches away from each other. He put his hand on your back and kept his eyes on you.
"Can you wait for Mommy and Daddy? We're just gonna talk a little. Is that okay, princess?"
Aiyla let out an annoyed huff and left.
He turned you around, pulled you close, and put his hands on your waist.
"I know that look, (Y/N). It was all a coincidence; there was an emergency meeting, and-"
"Mick messaged me. He saw you were with Aiyla during the meet and then texted me," you interrupted, leading to an awkward silence.
"I know this isn't what we wanted-"
You looked at him, wondering what he meant by that.
"I didn't mean it like that... I meant us."
He took a deep breath. "I don't like it to be like this. I hate seeing you away from me. I hate that the distance between us keeps getting bigger. I want us to be like before."
"You know we can't be like before anymore. We have Aiyla now." you tell him.
"I know that, but I want us to try again and give... and give me another chance."
You pulled away and looked away from him.
Aiyla was looking at you from her playhouse.
"I don't know, Lewis... I need more time to think about it. I can't make a decision right now. I have Aiyla now. I can't be so careless about this."
"I get that, but please just let me try. I'll be better this time. I'll let you take your time, but (Y/N), I need an answer. You can't keep running away and avoiding me."
"I will..."
You kept your eyes on Aiyla and saw that she was getting sleepy playing house.
"You can put her to bed if you want and.. Stay till she falls asleep"
"Yea, I'd love that! Thank you."
Lewis came close to you to give you a kiss on the cheek, but you stepped backward.
"Sorry, Ummm... Small steps..." you smiled at him.
"Yea, that's... Yea."
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fountainpenguin · 6 months ago
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Riddle watches New Wish - Post #21
Best of Wish
This is way more intense of a Rock-Paper-Scissors competition than I expected. I love how the stakes in this show are kid-themed, but still flashy enough to be engaging.
For some reason, even though I know Dev's surname is Dimmadome, it's still funny to hear a kid be announced like that. For years, that's been an "old man name" burned into my mind.
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Are they allowed to do that?? Does apple beat worm?
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He's just a little guy! You wouldn't beat a little guy at Rock, Paper, Scissors, c'mon!!
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Time of his life.
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Dev: I cheated! And you're supposed to be SAD now! That's the whole point!!
Dev is having a very hard time dealing with his emotions. I am definitely enjoying him screaming about how he cheated to win and that means Hazel should be miserable now. You can just TELL the words he's throwing out reflect how he feels and he's super confused as to why she congratulated him on his win.
-> Gives me similar vibes to Foop in "Blue Angel" screaming about how it wasn't fair that Chloe kept forgiving him despite his best efforts to tear her apart, although I think the emotions are being played better in this set-up.
-> With Foop, even though he also has a messed-up past (37 years of solitary confinement from the day he was born according to my frozen timestream notes), he was born with murderous rage, and his culture definitely leans in the direction of encouraging that.
With Dev, you know he's lashing out with things that would hurt him specifically and that he's having a really rough go of things. I like that.
If I'm feeling like Dev reminds me of Foop, that kind of implies Dev and Peri are supposed to me a good match that balance each other out. I like that.
That checks out- Peri has doting parents and wants LESS attention, and Dev can't keep his dad's focus and wants MORE attention. Peri's the one who keeps trying to rein Dev in and Dev is always trying to get Peri to go further.
Agency knew what they were doing when they assigned this pair, huh?
/war flashbacks to Foop being distraught that his parents left him alone for spring break back in the day.
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THERE HE IS!!
Irep implying he didn't have a choice in his name change? I wonder what the reasoning was, since he even says it's "Harder to pronounce" than Foop? Curious...
As much as he hated his name when he was born (Season 7), he was very attached to it by "Love Triangle" (Season 8), correcting Goldie every time she got it wrong until he finally snapped and screamed at her about how "It's not that difficult!"
Goldie got Fairy names right, AND every character in the school play right, but never bothered to learn her one Anti-Fairy classmate's name despite all the time they spent rehearsing for the play and him making it very clear he wanted her to say it right. Big yikes.
He's very proud of his name in later episodes (announcing himself often) and has his business cards. I mean... Sure, he's allowed to change it- It just surprises me that he's heavily implying it was against his will since his attachment to his name was such a big part of his character in my memory.
He's developed an entirely new identity, lmao. Who are you?
Potentially setting up a plot about how he's mad he has to copy Peri, but I feel like there would've been easier ways to do that?
I assume the logic here is that it needs to be clear to Hazel and/or viewers that they're opposites (We got the info here, but he'll probably appear in future episodes where it needs to be clear to prevent confusion for people just tuning in), but if that's the goal...
W... why would he not just change his name to Anti-Peri?
Plot twist of the century: They bring back Anti-Cosmo and Anti-Wanda, but their names are Osmoc and Adnaw now and we all suffer for it.
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/record scratch
Hey, um. Why did they give Irep body language that was pretty much exclusive to Foop's alternate personality??
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You're really gonna play me like this??
Straight out of the GATE!?
Okay, I just rewound to his first appearance of this episode and I do see the Foop-exclusive body language in Irep too, but... ???
Just really caught me off guard to see two poses I've burned into my memory as "alt personality things" back to back in like, 10 seconds, but okay. I don't care if this is a tangent; the actual episode can wait. It's important to me...
All right, the context:
So, OG Foop does fists when he's frustrated / scheming / cackling / nervous (usually above his head or down by his sides).
His alter does upturned fists when he's praising / cheerful. That's always been one of their switch cues, from the alter's debut in "Playdate of Doom" (Season 7) up through the last implied switch in "Return of the L.O.S.E.R.S." (Season 10).
Even the very first onscreen switch in Season 7 ("Playdate") depicts the alter holding his fists like that, before the double eye highlights were introduced in "Spellementary School"-
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-and he does the fists several times throughout his first episode.
Other body language habits include big, flat hands lifted towards the mouth, plus clasped hands. In other words, the alter is more "dainty" and "gushy" compared to Foop- I've always imagined him "doing everything over-the-top and unironically."
Don't confuse that with him being the nicest person, though. He's very funny; I like in the OG series when he's totally down to butt heads with Poof and coos "Does Mr. Popular want to fight~?"
Like. Logically, I know that is just a weird coincidence. There's no way the storyboard folks studied that, and there's no way they're planning to bring the alter back, because if they were, I'm sure he would've been blatant in this episode.
Foop's not using his high-pitched voice here and we can't use his eye highlights as a faithful signal since that's on-model for this show, but...
I mean... He's talking about Da Rules when he does the upturned fists. That does fit the "grumpy / scheming" energy which is correct for Foop (although he usually pumps his fists above his head or clenches them down by his sides instead of upturning them like this), but... ???
Wow, that is not a pose I'm used to seeing on Foop instead of his alter. I've written this little guy in 'fic a bunch of times; I know his body language pretty well and it was a switch cue for 3 seasons??
I'm okay. It's fine.
Also, here's a video showcasing their switches. Volume warning:
I just found out I missed one switch in "Terrible Twosome" when Poof gives him chocolate (even before his Terrific Twos kicked in), and I was always unclear on the full diner scene in "When L.O.S.E.R.S. Attack" (though I don't remember why; maybe because the voice is deep despite the highlights and I'm only rethinking it 6 years later), but... Them.
-> I do count "Terrible Twosome" as essentially the alter because the eye highlights, voice change, music change, and clenched fists all match the standard, but I'd accept arguments to the contrary since it's confirmed all Anti-Fairies have some version of Terrific Twos, and this is the only one we have for reference.
I was today years old watching this old compilation when I realized the music consistently zigzags between super cheery and dark when they switch, even outside "Terrible Twosome," which was where I remembered it. No... It's been there since "Playdate of Doom." Huh.
Okay, so... This is actually really interesting. When they switch, the music does too, but their music doesn't overlap. It's a very clear, jarring switch. There's often, though not always, a pause before this switch (such as their very rapid back-and-forth in "Playdate of Doom"). I've learned something new. Huh.
... Wait a sec.
They wouldn't...
...
Hey, uh ???
why does the tense music in "Best of Luck" cut off immediately before Irep temples his hands, drop to silence, and then switch the thumping part of the music to the cheery part underneath it and put the thumping part underneath the cheery bit instead?
I already used my one video for this post, but I can post the audio. It's subjective; I'm sure it's not supposed to indicate anything, so just bear with me...
- Okay, so we have this dark "BUM-bum, BUM-bum, BUM-bum" pattern. That goes for 12 seconds into this clip before fading out. - Note that you can hear, like... a scale underneath, like a swish, 4 or 5 seconds in. Right as 12 seconds turns to 13, there's a "sparkle noise". - And then we drop. And silence. So, that's the exact moment before Irep temples his hands.
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- NOW the cheery scale in the music is louder and the thumps are very faded in the background, but definitely still there. - So, the stings are no longer "always switching, but never overlapping" the way they were in the OG series, apparently.
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- Irep clasps his hands and says a couple more words, then drops his hands on "quitting." - RIGHT THEN, his music switches back to loud tension.
What the fliiiippp... what the fliiiiiippp?
?? I said I could see Foop-exclusive body language in him too earlier in this episode. Are they together again? Is that why they're sharing the music sting!?
SURELY that is not intentional. That HAS to be coincidence. I cannot imagine a world where that is on purpose. I'm losing my mind.
I... I don't really know where to go from here. I gotta lie down.
Bonus notes about the fists I moved down here due to length:
Okay, upon review, there are several ambiguous moments in the OG series where Foop himself makes potentially joyful fists instead of scheming fists, such as:
- When trying to fool Jorgen into thinking he's rehabilitated in "Playdate of Doom" (and Jorgen clocks him as lying) - When he's trying to sweet-talk Poof in "Two and a Half Babies" (and Poof also clocks him as lying) - Both times he's brownnosing up to Crocker in "School of Crock" (and Crocker clocks him for it) AND when he's sweet-talking the principal to trick him into activating his door trap. He also makes the fists when he's mimicking Poof in his first scene, so... he pretty much does it anytime he's "not being Foop," lol. -> In that case, it's funny he makes those fists when telling Poof in the closing scene that he's "sorry for trying to annihilate him." That said, he DOES switch a few seconds later while gushing over how Sammy Sweetsparkle is "kind of a bad boy." -> Clasped hands (also a thing his alter does a lot) is ALSO something Foop does when he's blatantly lying (The last of the Snow Wanda scene in "Fairly Odd Fairy Tales" is a good example, but I saw other episodes too). - Continuing with ambiguity talk, he does the joyful fists both times he enters the pet shop in "Man's Worst Friend," (a scene where he seems to switch multiple times, so it's clearly a place that affects him, but he doesn't have eye highlights when he first enters the building) - When the Anti-Fairy Council names him a scary godparent in "Fairy Godcouple" and he grins and says "Bring it on!" (though I can see that as scheming about what he can do with this power) - At the end of "Fairly Odd Fairy Tales" when he's trying to coax Timmy into eating his food and Wanda hands him a treat, interrupting his scheme (and he leaves his fists in the air while expressing interest in the treat) - The first time he meets Vicky during "When L.O.S.E.R.S. Attack" (when she joins the team's plan to get Timmy, so... arguably scheming, though the alt personality is known for crushes - and had eye highlights when asking Crocker if the mystery person he wanted to bring in was single - so I'd accept that as an answer).
Yes, I did drop everything to rewatch every Foop episode for this. hey man how's it going.
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princessanonymous · 11 months ago
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When Night Comes
Platonic Yandere Vampire
Previous Part | Next Part
Story Chapter list
23. 𝓑𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝓦𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓻
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The night had been long and exhausting, but this mattered little to him. Now that he had brought his child back and turned her, everything was well. Shortly after her first feeding, (Y/n) had fallen unconscious, the exhaustion brought by her transformation finally taking over her.
As a coffin had yet to be made for her, the child had nowhere to rest.  She wasn't human anymore, a bed certainly wouldn't do. These things were too uncomfortable for greater beings like them. Dorian brought her to his own coffin and let her rest next to him for the time being.
Killian remained silent since (Y/n)'s transformation. He hadn’t uttered a single word since. His eyes lingered frequently on the youngling, but he presented a vacant expression, his mind adrift. Dorian didn't mind; he understood that, despite Killian's stoic exterior, the blonde vampire felt a sense of responsibility for the newly turned child. Now, he would have to think of (Y/n) before trying to leave. (Y/n) would now factor into both their lives, a reminder that Dorian intended to keep at the forefront of Killian's thoughts.
A heavy silence hung in the air, pregnant with tension as Killian's accusatory words sliced through the room like a dagger. His dark gaze bore into Dorian, carrying with it a weight of both anger and disappointment. 
"You should have left her. You never should have turned her," Killian stated firmly, his voice dripping with a foreboding darkness that resonated through the chamber.
Dorian couldn't suppress a growl of frustration that rumbled deep within his chest. He loved his companion, a bond that had been forged over countless years of shared experiences and challenges. Yet, their differing philosophies had always sparked discord. With a sarcastic hiss, he retorted, "Of course, Killian, you are absolutely right. I should have left her to wither away and crumble into the abyss of old age." The irony in his words was palpable, a thinly veiled mockery of Killian's unyielding principles.
The girl in question, still adjusting to her new existence, remained cradled in Dorian's arms, her eyes closed. Dorian hugged her tightly, his hands tenderly covering her ears in a protective gesture. He wished fervently that the newborn vampire didn't hear the words that had escaped Killian's lips, for in her eyes, he was the embodiment of virtue and goodness.
"I do not care how much you dislike this situation," Dorian sneered, the bitterness evident. "Rant and rave about it as much as you want, but don't you ever — and I mean it — say it in her presence again." The warning hung heavy in the air. “I was able to get my hands on a stake once and I will not hesitate to do it again, but this time– and I swear to all that is holy and unholy– I will make sure to complete the job.”
She didn't need to know the depth of the internal conflicts that had arisen within the very beings she would have to look up to for guidance. They were her guides, and Dorian intended to shield her from the shadows that lurked within their immortal souls.
⊱ ────── {⋆𖤐⋆} ────── ⊰
The night unfurled around (Y/n) as she awoke, grappling with the disorienting transition from a human world to the reality of her new existence. She emerged from the coffin, the memories of the nunnery, the massacres, and her transformation flooding back. She distantly realized she couldn’t feel any more pain in her leg.
The once mundane aspects of her surroundings now pulsed with life—the scents, sounds, tastes, and sensations overwhelmed her heightened senses. The onslaught of sensations became too much to bear. Blood pounded in her ears, her hands trembled, and her feet tingled. It was a whirlwind of clarity and chaos, leaving her desperate for reprieve.
She needed it to—
She gulped as her stomach churned. She felt as though a hand of ice had reached inside her chest, gripping her heart with a vice-like hold. She covered her ears, shutting out the cacophony threatening to engulf her. She just wanted it to stop.
Stop, stop, stopstop—
"(Y/n)," a voice, loud and grounding, called out to her. She winced in pain.
"Child, can you listen to me?" The voice, a lifeline amidst the turmoil, asked gently. Hesitant, she nodded, still overwhelmed and scared. "I want you to take three breaths with me. Can you do that?"
Hesitant but compliant, she followed his lead. Breathe in, breathe out—a rhythmic attempt to regain control. The creaking door and the aroma of food wafting from downstairs threatened to disrupt her focus.
"Breathe in... breathe out," he instructed, accentuating the motions. Slowly, through repetition, (Y/n) began to regain a semblance of calm. Trembling persisting, she clung to Killian, a strange calm intertwining with an unfamiliar sense of resentment.
As she followed his instructions, focusing on the simple act of breathing, the chaos within her began to subside, if only momentarily. The scent of food from downstairs, once a distraction, now mingled with the comforting presence. With each inhale and exhale, she felt herself slowly coming back to herself, the trembling lessening as a sense of control returned. Yet, beneath the calm facade, a knot of resentment twisted within her.
"I'm a monster," she confessed in a whisper, scorn lacing her words as tears traced down her face. "He made me into this."
Killian rolled circles in her back, a silent pillar of support. Dorian wasn't in the room, there was only her and the other vampire.
"I never wanted this," her voice cracked.
He enveloped her in a comforting embrace. "I know, child," he assured, his tone echoing the different emotions that enveloped them both.
The sound of approaching footsteps reached (Y/n)'s enhanced hearing moments before the door swung open. Her gaze, a defiant glare, met the vampire who entered. Despite Killian's protective arm around her shoulders, Dorian paid it no mind, smiling while cupping her face in his hand.
"How is my little fledgling tonight?" he asked in a singsong voice. "Show me your fangs, dear."
(Y/n) clenched her jaw and turned her head away in defiance. Dorian, undeterred, tightened his grip, forcing her to meet his gaze again. "Now, don't be—"
Instinctively, she bared her teeth and attempted to bite him, a surprising action even to herself. Dorian retracted his hand just in time to avoid it. Rather than anger, (Y/n) sensed amusement radiating from her sire, who rewarded her with a sharp grin, practically cackling in delight.
"Quite a feisty one, aren't you?" he commented gleefully. "Father is so proud." She glowered. "Freshen up; it is time to eat."
She left their room to go to her own quarters without a word. Anything to not be in direct contact with him. A maid had already prepared a bath for her and left, a fortunate occurrence. She was bloodied, her clothes stained by blood that had dried. The origin was unknown to her. Was it from Dorian, herself or even the nuns? She clenched her jaw, preferring not to think of that. 
She just wanted it all gone. With meticulous care, she lathered her hands with soap. She thought of Sister Gloria and of the pain she must have felt as her sire sank his fangs in her neck, draining her life force. Or maybe, as he sliced her open– or as he ripped her apart ruthlessly. Her mind buzzed, each possibility running through her head. She could still hear the screams, could still see the red. The same red covering her. As the soap bubbled between her fingers, she scrubbed furiously. It had to leave. Did he play with them before slaughtering them? Did he make them partake in his twisted version of hide and seek? Hiding until he found them and spilled all their life fluids across their haven? Was it the same fluid she had on herself now? She scrubbed, her nails digging into her skin with a desperate intensity. She needed it gone. Was that what she was forced to become now? Would her existence revolve around spilling all that blood? Would it be consumed by the red? She scrubbed, she could have missed–
Someone knocked. “Miss,” a soft, almost inaudible voice called, “the duke is requesting you.”
She looked down at the blood tainted water and stood up. She paused for an instant. With a sigh, she reached for the hand towel, her movements slow and hesitant. Once she finally dried and dressed herself, she was ready to go.
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thisgirlnamedblusy · 6 months ago
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First off, your writing is nectar. I slurp it up like a fine wine.
I would ask if you would write a story about how Donna got the reader pregnant out of jealousy and possession, but it ends up being a difficult pregnancy/birth, which kinda makes Donna realise how she could lose the reader in trying to keep her. If and how well reader recovers is up to you.
If this ask makes you uncomfortable, I apologise. Have a nice day :)
Yesss!!! Thank you for your words and your support, and ofc, for your request. I'm sorry if it's too dark, but well, I've tried. I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :))))
A long road to redemption
Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader
Warnings: G!P Donna (implied), Minors DNI, slightly dark themes, dark Donna, jealousy... Angst, but with a happy ending, Donna's POV
Word count: 6,926
Summary: I'm sorry, (Y/N), this is all my fault...
N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))
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“I'm sick of your stupid jealousy!” You shouted, looking at me with bloodshot eyes, with the shine of hatred that your words conveyed.
“And I'm sick of you despising me, of you disappearing without warning! Do you know what you've put me through?” I responded furiously, pushing you, cornering you against a wall.
“I just went shopping, you damn psychopath! People are right, you're sick in the head, I don't know why I fell in love with you...” You hissed those last words, turning them into a sharp dagger, one that sank into my heart like a stake, killing what I had left of humanity.
“You think so?” I asked, with my words full of rage, with my body trembling.
“That's what you show me, Donna,” you responded, making me lose my composure, making me push you even harder, making the ideas that torment me day and night be reflected in my actions.
“I'll make something clear to you, (Y/N). You are mine, and only mine, if you’re trying to abandon me...” I threatened, hitting the wall with my fist, making your pride turn into terror, into panic, the only thing I didn't want to see in your eyes.
“You’re threating me? Is that your way of loving?” You asked, with your voice breaking, with your eyes open imagining what was the worst thing I would be capable of doing to keep you, so you wouldn't abandon me. “You're going to kill me?”
“No,” I answered dryly, gritting my teeth, fighting against the anger inside of me, against the voices in my head that urged me to do something horrible. “But if you don't want to stay, I will force you to do so.”
I woke up sweating, after reliving that horrible moment over and over again, that moment when I completely lost my mind.
I could have settled for a quiet, solitary life, with the life that fate and the Gods had granted me. But no, I couldn't do it, not when I met you. You were a funny girl, but kind, you showed me I really didn't want to be alone, just for what? So I would harm you, so my inexperience and my fears would turn your life into hell.
Those discussions compromised the happiness I felt at your side, they made me believe you didn't love me, that you would abandon me, that you would exchange me for someone who wasn't a monster like me.
None of that helped you to leave. You never left, not even that dark, rainy afternoon, when my madness was too much even for me. I never wanted to hurt you, (Y/N), ever.
But jealousy, that possessive behavior that torments my soul made me make a mistake, made me force you, made me take you to keep you. How could I make you stay? In what way could your mind force you to love me, to continue loving me? The solution seemed right, it seemed like a good idea: getting you pregnant.
Neither your screams nor your refusals made me stop. I fulfilled my threat, I took you without permission, I made you mine on that wall, my bad thoughts, my demons, took control of my actions.
Your scared look haunted me every night, even after you had forgiven me, or so you said. You were always so understanding, too understanding. Maybe you loved me as much as you said, maybe you feared me as much as I thought. It was impossible for me to know.
Forgiving an act like that only made you kinder, only made me see how wrong I was with you, but my own torments still screamed to be heard. No one in the world could forgive something like that, no one except you. Why? I still wonder.
You were always so patient, you were always there to help me and how did I repay you? With distrust, with jealousy, with the eternal suspicion that your presence would be ephemeral.
The day you told me that you were pregnant I didn't know how to act. It is true that it was what I intended, but it was only the product of an argument, of my deranged and sick mind. You could have left after that, but you didn't, you forgave me, you always forgave me.
8 months have passed since that day and the nightmares do their job, reminding me that everything was my fault. A child should be a reason for joy, but not when your body seemed to have problems with it.
It seems like everything in my life goes wrong, maybe I never deserved you. Like a divine punishment, your condition worsened with each passing month, with each little bit that our child grew in your womb. I couldn't say if I preferred nightmares, or seeing you in bed unable to move, because of me, because of my stupid jealousy.
“(Y/N)...” I murmured, wiping the sweat from my forehead. Your presence always helped me keep my demons away, knowing that you were there with me. That night it seemed like everything was against me again.
On your side of the bed, there was a cold emptiness. My hands traveled over the place where your sick body should be. It was gone, and the voices returned.
She left, for sure.
But that statement that my own mind was making was no longer enough to make me lose my temper. I could say I believed in your unconditional love, but it was more of a logical reasoning. You could barely move. If you meant to leave, you would never do it at night, not in that state, not with my child in your womb.
I got up confused, searching in the darkness of the bedroom. Like a heavenly light, the illuminated hallway served to calm my head, so my heart would stop beating fast.
“(Y/N), where are you?” I asked, walking through the hallways, peeking through each door in a mad search, retaining the tremors of my body, the sweat of my hands, that part of my head that told me that you would abandon me. “(Y/N)?!”
"Shh, don't yell, damn it...” Your hoarse voice sounded from the kitchen and I almost ran to meet you. There you were, leaning on the counter, holding your belly with your hand.
Your look was no longer the one I fell in love with over the months. Your body was weak, your skin was pale. I knew it was my fault, but I refused to believe it.
“What are you doing?” I asked, slowly entering the kitchen. The smile that was always on your face did not illuminate me that time, only a sad shine in your eyes.
“Can't I even drink a fucking glass of water?” You hissed, setting the glass on the counter forcefully, making me step back, scared by your attitude, one you hadn't had in a while. “Can't you leave me alone for at least a second?”
I opened my mouth to say something, but I couldn't do it, your words hurt me again, but I suppressed my anger. I never told you, but I tried very hard so my madness would not hurt you again, no matter how difficult you made it for me.
You closed your eyes, sighing, lowering your head, resting your hands on the furniture and taking a breath.
“Hey, Donna, I’m sorry,” you murmured, gesturing for me to come closer. “I didn't mean to talk to you like that.”
I walked slowly towards you and a sad smile appeared on your face. It was fake, false, but at least it was a smile. I lowered my head, thus showing that your attitude didn't bother me, that I had gotten over that kind of things a long time ago, even if you didn't realize it.
“You should be in bed,” I said, putting a hand on your shoulder, wishing with all my might that you wouldn't take it away. You didn't, you just turned slowly, with a grimace of pain. “If you were thirsty, you should have woken me up.”
You smiled again, sighing, closing your eyes and holding my hand, playing with my fingers erratically. I could see the pain in your body. I was able to feel it. It was all my fault.
“I didn't mean to wake you up,” you said softly, rocking with me, suppressing the pain you felt. “You are so beautiful when you sleep...”
That whisper made me smile, really smile. Despite everything I put you through, you still allowed yourself to flatter me. Again, I couldn't tell if it was love, or fear.
My hands traveled slowly to your belly, to the cause of my happiness, and my worry. Yours joined in that caress, but your face still expressed pain, annoyance.
“I really want to know what it will be like, don't you?” You asked, enjoying that tender moment, one of those that relaxed my heart. I nodded with a wider smile. “I know this is being hard, but I have no doubt that we will be able to overcome it.”
“You're always so optimistic...” I whispered, trying to feel the baby with my hands, trying to feel its movements, the reality of its existence. You laughed amused, caressing my cheek and raising your eyebrows.
“I can't live any other way,” you said, kissing me slowly, placing your lips on mine. If you only knew how your kisses made me feel... “Ah...” You complained, doubling over yourself, with a horrible grimace of pain.
“Tesoro, what's wrong?” I asked worried, holding your body while you shook your head.
“Nothing, I...” You said breathing hard, faking a smile, one that I knew wasn’t possible for you to wield in your state. “I think, I think it's gotten jealous...” You murmured amused, placing your hands on your belly again.
“Should I call Mother Miranda? You don't look good,” I said, still worried, searching your eyes for the source of that pain, wishing I was the one who was suffering. I caused it, it was my fault.
“No, no, I… I think I can handle it,” you said, catching your breath, breathing like you had learned. All these months had been an eternal circle of pain and discomfort for you, because of me.
Days and days, hours and hours of suffering... That child of mine seemed to want to make you suffer. It seemed to hate you as much as I did when I created it. I just wished that it didn't look like me, I just wished that everything would go back to the way it was before.
It never will be, because of you...
Your screams of pain were unbearable.
After a week, that terrible moment came. It seemed like the baby wanted to come out early, it seemed like it was killing you inside. I have never seen so much pain in a person. I have never felt so much pain.
“Hold on, please,” I said desperately while you lay on the stretcher. Mother Miranda attended to you, but I could only see your wounded face, the blood that flowed between your legs. The fear I had of losing you finally had a basis, a real one. “Squeeze my hand tightly, come on, please…”
Desperate, I was trying to help you, trying to make those screams stop. Your eyes looked at me, but I knew you couldn't see me, all you saw was pain, it was suffering, because of me. You were destroying my hand, but I didn't care, I just wanted you to stop suffering, I just wanted that for once, fate wouldn't make me pay for my mistakes.
“Keep talking to her, Donna,” Miranda told me, while she acted on your body, while her hands were stained with blood. “Don't let her fall asleep.”
I nodded profusely, leaning over you, holding your hand tightly in mine as you sobbed.
“Come on, tesoro, hold on, I know you can do it... You are the love of my life...” I repeated over and over again. You didn't seem to listen to me, or didn't want to, how could you believe those words when I was responsible for your suffering?
“I can't take it anymore...” You whispered with a weak voice, squeezing your eyes tightly, with the strength that began to lack in my hand.
I looked at you scared, but I tried to stay calm, looking at the priestess, my Goddess, who seemed very focused, her hands red with your blood. My hands were the ones covered in blood, not hers. That was all my fault.
“Come on, my love... Just a little more, it won't be long now,” I said, trying to control my voice, trying not to fall into a heartbreaking cry. You needed my strength. You needed your executioner to be your salvation.
“Donna...” You sighed, your voice becoming weaker. Your hand was dead in mine, you couldn't hold it tightly anymore. I didn't want to see it, but I saw the life disappearing in your eyes, and I panicked.
“Miranda! Do something, (Y/N) is going to...” I screamed desperately, when I noticed a weak hand on my cheek, forcing me to look at you. There was a too-calm smile on your face, your sobs had stopped.
“Shhh, don't be afraid, my Donna...” You said with an agonized voice, making the tears I was suppressing finally run down my cheeks.
“This is all my fault,” I sobbed, lowering my head and resting it on the stretcher, without letting you go, I would never let you go, (Y/N).
“No, my love... It's not your fault,” you said, trying to console me, making me feel even worse. You didn't have to console me, you should make me suffer. Give me back a bit of your pain. I wish I was the one on that stretcher, and not you.
“I did this to you...” I said, rubbing my face on your chest, noticing for myself your slow heartbeats.
“It's not your fault, do you hear me?” You repeated, making an effort, clenching your teeth when another spasm of pain ran through your body.
“Her vital signs are dropping. We have to sedate her,” Miranda commented. She seemed absent until that moment.
“What?” I asked scared, looking up at the drip that the witch gave you. “What are you doing?”
“I have already told you. If I don't sedate her, both she and the baby will die,” the priestess said, the one to blame for everything, the real culprit. If her divine grace had not granted me the gift of creating life, I would not be like this. You would not be like this.
“Donna, calm down, everything will be fine...” You murmured, closing your eyes, with a strange smile on your face. “You know I love you, right?”
“(Y/N)...” I murmured, only being able to say your name, not even being able to say how much I loved you, how much I was sorry for having hurt you.
“Promise me one thing, okay? Promise you'll take care of that baby...” You said, with a tone that made me panic.
“No, no, don't say goodbye, you, you can take care of it too, we will be, we will be a family...” I said desperately, seeing how your body relaxed dangerously, probably due to Miranda's medicines.
“I love you…”
“No, no, (Y/N), (Y/N)...” I said when your body collapsed on the stretcher. Crying, I shook your shoulders. My head thought too many things, I felt too many things that I lost track of reality, I was trapped in a spiral of pain, of guilt. It had been all my fault.
Because of you, Donna, because of you, Donna…Donna…
“Donna! Are you listening to me?” Miranda's abrupt voice made me raise my head and return to the world, return to reality, to that terrible reality. “Come here, quickly.”
I kissed the back of your limp hand, trying not to see the weakness of your unconscious body, and I approached Miranda, who looked at me with almost the same hatred as you did that day.
“Hold the head carefully,” she ordered me, placing me in front of you, in that bloodbath. That little monster was killing you. It was taking the love of my life.
“Two drops...” Miranda murmured, introducing another syringe into the serum.
I couldn't think clearly. My bloody hands were definitive proof that I killed you, that I put you through that. I will always thank Mother Miranda for preventing me to lose my temper even more.
“Wake up at once!” She screeched. “Hold the baby and pull it out slowly.”
“What about (Y/N)?” I asked immediately, looking at your inert face, your breathing almost non-existent.
“Damn...” The blonde grumbled, grabbing the collar of my dress. “Stop acting stupid and do what I tell you. Otherwise they will die.”
I nodded, terribly scared, holding that little head that, after a spasm, turned into a baby, which I picked up in my arms. I was paralyzed with that bloody mass in my hands. It wasn't moving, and neither were you. It was the worst of my nightmares, the worst of my punishments.
“Come on, breathe...” I whispered, cradling that little baby full of blood, the blood of my sins, my mistakes. This was all my fault.
A screeching cry filled that small laboratory. The little being that I had in my hands writhed and cried desperately. I sighed, letting more tears roll down my cheeks. My daughter had been born, she had survived.
The sound of scissors, cutting what still bound the girl to you woke me up again. Miranda pushed me away with a gentle push and a slightly calmer look, nodding.
“Well done, stay back, I'll try to stop the bleeding,” she said, putting a hand on my shoulder and taking a quick look at the baby, who was still crying inconsolably.
It was eternal agony. I could only see blood, death. I could only think about that afternoon, I could only think that beautiful baby I was holding in my arms was the cause of your misery. I couldn't even look at it. I couldn't even feel the happiness I should feel.
Miranda sighed after an hour of erratic movements in your body. Her gaze turned to me. I couldn't interpret it and that made me shake.
“She's alive... For now...” She whispered, making me close my eye in relief but worried at the same time. “I really didn't think she would do it.”
“Is she alive?” I asked incredulously. It certainly didn't seem like it, your body barely moved, the sound of that infernal machine confirmed Miranda's words, but there was nothing that made me think calmly. Not even the daughter I had in my arms.
“For now. She has lost a lot of blood,” Miranda commented, washing her hands in a sink. I wish it were as easy as that, I wish by just washing my hands, your blood would disappear from them. “Let me take a look at the baby.”
Involuntarily, I handed the girl over to her, my gaze focused on your body, in the blood on the sheets. I killed you, it was all my fault.
“Fine...” The witch murmured, examining the girl cautiously and returning her to me shortly after. I didn't want to hold her in my arms, she was to blame, I was to blame. “The girl is fine,” she sighed, heading to a table and mixing something on it.
I didn't respond, I just moved my arms, wishing that terrifying cry would go away.
“Here,” Miranda said, holding a small bottle in her hand. I looked at it suspiciously and then looked back at you. “The girl is hungry, can't you see it?”
“It should be (Y/N) who…” I mumbled, shaking my head, making the witch snort again.
“(Y/N) isn't there, Donna!” She yelled, surely exhausted by the effort, and by my behavior. “Stop whining and feed your daughter.”
I nodded. It was hard to see Miranda so angry. Surely people were right, I am so sick in the head that not even the one who called herself my savior could stand me. Unsure, with trembling hands, I took the bottle, slowly tilting it towards the baby, who didn't think twice before starting to drink almost desperately.
“That's it...” Miranda said, plopping down next to me, exhausted. I couldn't even thank her. I didn't even feel that adoration I should feel towards her. I was to blame, but so was she, she made me like this.
“You were hungry, right?” I asked softly to the baby, who squirmed in response. Seeing that being so defenseless, so beautiful, I regretted wishing it had never existed.
But not even that intense happiness I felt having my daughter in my arms could eclipse your last words, your last declaration of your love for me. I just wanted it not to be the last. I wanted you to get up, for a miracle to happen.
I couldn't think of anything else.
“You've been lucky,” Miranda said, taking the now empty bottle, with a cold look, with the only look she could have. I should have realized. I should not have wanted her to save me from my miseries. “This usually doesn't turn out well.”
“Lucky? (Y/N) is...”I protested immediately, making the baby cry again, making me nervous again.
“She’s alive, Donna,” Miranda corrected. “You should be glad the baby survived. I don't understand you.”
“You can't possibly understand me,” I hissed angrily, making her frown. “This is all my fault.”
“Well, if you think so, you should have thought about it before, right?” She told me mockingly, making me look up at her, wanting to see her on that stretcher instead of you.
I shook my head, knowing that baby came into the world because I was crazy, sick, because I thought I would lose you. I wish I had known I was going to lose you like this, I wish I could have suppressed my instincts.
“Can I leave you alone? I need a shower,” the blonde sighed, standing up with disdain and looking disgusted at her bloody clothes.
I looked at her with an eye of fire. I couldn't blame her for doubting me but, I felt like she really had to, that I was a danger. I put you in danger, it was all my fault. Slowly, I nodded and she looked at me suspiciously, but she walked away.
The silence was overwhelming. The baby had fallen asleep in my arms, I had almost forgotten about it. Gods, why were you so cruel to me? How could I forget my own daughter?
I looked at you and got up slowly, walking towards you, sitting in the chair I occupied a few moments ago, where I heard those words, the words I should have heard that afternoon.
“Look, (Y/N), she’s beautiful, don't you think?” I said with a sincere smile, showing the baby, who peacefully sleeping.
Your breathing didn't change. Your smile didn't appear on your face. I just thought you were really listening to me. I wanted to share that happiness I should feel. I couldn't, (Y/N), without you I couldn't feel anything.
“I can't handle this alone, tesoro... You have, you have to recover, you have to...” I whispered, falling into tears again, holding your insensitive hand, overwhelmed, alone, without you.
“If you can't, why the hell do you have a daughter?” Miranda asked, interrupting that private moment, interrupting your first meeting with our daughter.
I ignored her question, gritting my teeth. She was right.
“I don't...” I murmured confused, knowing that deep down I should defend myself, but I couldn't do it. She was right, it was all my fault, it always was. I should never have asked you to stay, to love me. Your love for me was your downfall.
“You don't, what?” The blonde insisted, taking the baby from my arms, probably because they started to shake uncontrollably. “For Gods’ sake, Donna…”
“I didn't know this would happen,” I said, frowning, replacing my tears with anger, with rage, with the lack of control I had in my life, in our life. I really couldn't know, but it was my fault.
“What didn't you know? Didn’t you know that if you played with your little thing without being careful, (Y/N) would get pregnant? Please, I thought you were smarter.”
“No!” I screeched, calming down instantly. I couldn't let my daughter know what kind of mother she had. I couldn't let my sick mind affect her as soon as she was born. “I didn't know that (Y/N) she would get so sick.”
“It was impossible for you to know,” the witch murmured, cradling the baby calmly, like a real mother, something I would never be. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself and behave like what you are.”
“And what am I?” I asked madly, breathing hard, minimizing my nervous breakdown as much as possible. No, my daughter couldn't see me like that.
“I don't know, what do you think you are, Donna?” Miranda asked back, without losing her calm. There's a reason she was Mother Miranda, and not a crazy psychopath like me.
“I'm a monster...” I said without hesitation, relaxing my body, burying my face in my hands, pulling my hair hard, hurting myself, barely feeling it. The pain in my heart was more unbearable.
Miranda rolled her eyes and sighed again, looking at the baby.
“You think so? Because I think that this beautiful girl could not be the daughter of a monster,” she said, loving my daughter, doing what I had to do.
I looked away abruptly, searching for your limp hand again, squeezing it in mine, wishing that my heat would revive your body.
“Please, (Y/N), wake up, please...” I repeated over and over again, concentrating, squeezing my eye tightly, crushing your hand, letting my tears soak the stretcher. “Please… Forgive me, please…”
“Donna, enough is enough. You can't do anything,” Miranda snapped at me with a stern voice, but holding the baby carefully, with the care that I lacked.
“I have, I have to be able to... I have to save her...” I said to myself, turning to the priestess, seeing her response. If she made me like this, why couldn't she also save the love of my life?
I got down from the chair, kneeling desperately, pulling at her clothes, making her look at me with disgust, a disgust that I didn't realize.
“Mother Miranda, I’m begging you, save (Y/N)... I will do anything...” I said, sobbing again, uncontrolled, scared and hurt. I couldn't take it anymore.
“Please...” She sighed, tired of my attitude. “I told you I can't. Don't humiliate yourself any more.”
“I will give my own life if necessary, but please... Help her,” I repeated again, not listening to her words, not wanting to accept the reality that devastated the depths of my mind.
“Your own life...” She murmured, shaking her head. “What about your daughter? Who is going to take care of her? You're stupid, Donna Beneviento.”
“I... I don't...” I said confused, hurt by her words, but willing to do anything to save you. I wish I could have reconsidered sooner.
“If you care that much about (Y/N), you should do her the favor of taking care of the daughter that she had such a hard time giving birth to, don't you think? Or do you just not care about her?”
“Of course I care,” I said defensively, getting up from the ground, with the shaking in my hands completely uncontrollable.
“It's incredible...” She said, sighing at my attitude, almost desperate for my madness. Surely she also regretted saving me.
“You don't understand,” I whispered, not being able to bear the guilt, a guilt that had been dragging on for too long. “I did this to her! I have hurt her!”
“Stop, yelling... Damn, you're a stupid nutcase...” Miranda hissed, protecting my daughter from my own psychosis. “I told you that you couldn't know.”
“Maybe I couldn’t but...” I said nervously, running my hands over my forehead, hands still covered in blood, your blood, like my conscience. “I raped her! I forced her to have that baby! Just, just because... I was afraid of losing her!”
“You did what?” She asked, surprised but impassive.
“I, I forced her, I, I forced her to... I didn't want her to leave. I believed she would abandon me if I didn't... If she didn't have a reason to stay. I got her pregnant against her will and still she…. She stayed with me... She really loved me and I... I did this to her...”  I confessed loud and clear, ceasing to be the only one who knew what had really happened, showing my true face, showing my true illness.
“Wow...” Miranda said, with a sinister smile on her face, one that made me shiver even more. “Did she stay after that?”
I nodded, following the priestess to a nearby couch, plopping down on it with my head buried in my knees.
The witch sighed, thinking about what to say to that horrible confession. Maybe that was the end of me. Maybe it was something so horrible that not even Miranda could bear it.
“Not all the people would do it in her situation, don't you think?” She whispered with a passive voice, she almost seemed not to be talking to me. I raised the head, looking at her out of the corner of my eye, embarrassed.
“I was jealous, I couldn't bear the idea of ​​losing her and now... Now I've done it, I've lost her...” I murmured, feeling like the most despicable person in the world, which I really was.
“Well, that's still not true,” Miranda said, with a mocking grin, moving the baby in her arms, cradling it relentlessly. “Tell me, do you think I love my daughter?”
I nodded confused by the question. Her deceased daughter, Eva, was a taboo subject in the village, no one, not even my siblings, could talk about her.
“Of course I do,” I answered tiredly, looking at you, wishing you would move, that you would open your eyes to end this torture. “You have done everything possible to get her back.”
“I have killed, I have done horrible things for her, and you know it better than anyone,” she commented in a low voice, as if she wanted to be more evil than me. Nobody could be. “Well, if there is someone to blame for this situation it is me, don't you think?”
I didn't respond, I didn't even move.
“Do you know what the difference is between you and me, Donna?” She asked, seeing my passivity, seeing that my mind was very far from her words. I shook my head, staring at the ground, at my bloody hands. “I don’t regret my actions.”
That sentence sent chills through my body, forcing me to look at the witch, who was looking back at me with those gray, empty eyes, impassive in the face of such a horrible statement.
“You love her, right?” Miranda asked with a softer voice. I nodded, I couldn't do anything else. “She loved you, Donna, she loves you.”
“But I don't... I have, I have failed her,” I said with a calmer voice, watching you every second, looking for the slightest sign of life in your body.
“Of course, that's why after everything you've done to her, she's stayed with you,” Miranda mocked, crying out the light cry of the baby, my daughter. “If you want to redeem yourself for your actions you can only do one thing...” she said, handing me the baby slowly. “Take care of your daughter.”
I nodded, looking at the small creature in my arms.
“Go home, Donna. I think we all need a break,” the witch said, standing up and checking the strange monitors you were connected to. I shook my head.
“No, I won't leave without (Y/N)” I protested, standing up, angering my savior again, who rolled her eyes, sighing listlessly.
“Very well, whatever you want... But if I find out that you neglect the baby, I will finish you off, is that clear?”
Thus the hours passed, the days.
I didn't leave your side, neither did Miranda. She watched you every day, but only for a while, I spent with you, with our daughter the remaining time. You didn't wake up, you didn't open your eyes and hope was slowly fading from my heart. But there was some truth in Miranda's words: I regretted it. I would be capable of anything to make you recover, even... Losing you.
“Okay, okay, Antonella it's maybe old-fashioned,” I said amused, sitting next to you like I always did, trying to talk to you, trying to get my voice to bring you back to my side.
“Angie, her name has to be Angie,” my doll said, my only company in my moments of loneliness.
“No, no way,” I said, looking at the baby, now looking better, with incipient black hair and bright eyes, my eyes. “Come on, (Y/N), give me a hand, this girl needs a name.”
My madness had relaxed, but I began to get unhinged, to talk to you as if you were there. You weren't there, and that was my fault.
“Please...” I sobbed, unable to continue pretending that I was happy, unable to make myself believe that everything was okay. “Please, (Y/N)...”
“No, no, no, no, no, Donna, no, don't break down again,” Angie said, getting on the stretcher and making gestures with her hands.
“Angie... I can't take it anymore...” I said with a broken voice. “I want her to come back.”
“Do you know the only thing that has to come back? Your knucklehead,” the doll protested, making me frown as the puppet watched the baby, trembling in my arms. “The girl… The girl, Donna.”
I composed myself, holding the baby properly, who was about to slip out of my arms. Maybe Miranda was right and I couldn't take care of it. It was all my fault.
“Come on, come on, you have to calm down, you don't help (Y/N) that way,” Angie said, helping me as she could, showing the rational side of her, my rational side.
“I can't...” I sighed desperately, holding back tears.
“Come on, cheer up, do you remember what nonna Giovanna said?”
“Quando ci vuole, ci vuole...” I repeated the old woman's words, those that called for responsibility, no matter how unpleasant or hard it was.
“That's right, you have to be strong, Donna, if not for yourself, do it for the baby.” I have to confess that Angie has never helped me that much. “Hey… What do you think about Giovanna?”
“Giovanna...” I sighed, looking at the girl, who had fallen asleep peacefully again, as if she were not in the arms of a dangerous madwoman.
“Yes, like the nonna, doesn't she seem great to you?” Angie said, excited.
I looked at the baby again, baby who took one of my fingers in her hands.
“Do you like Giovanna, my love?” I asked softly, getting used to the idea of ​​having to take care of that girl on my own, to thinking that you would never wake up.
“It’s a beautiful name...”
“Well, that's my grandmother's name,” I said, totally unaware of hearing that voice, that voice that I hadn't heard for so long.
“It seems perfect to me, Donna…”
“Yes, I think she likes it and...” I said, stopping immediately, turning pale and moving little by little, breathing with tremendous difficulty.
Your eyes, your eyes were open, your face showed a weak smile, but a smile. I was paralyzed when your hand rose to mine, caressing it slowly, trying to touch the girl in my arms.
“Gods...” I murmured nervously, I was out of breath. “(Y/N)...”
“It seems like I've been away for a while, right?” You asked, looking at me with tender eyes, with no resentment, lacking that guilt I carried on my shoulders.
I cried desperately, smiling, holding the baby while caressing your face, leaning down to kiss you, to feel your lips again.
“Gods, tesoro... My love...” I said repeatedly, wishing it wasn't a dream, one of many I had while I was taking care of you. Your laugh showed me that it wasn't.
“Hey, hey, don't worry, I haven't died, or so I think...” You joked, being yourself, as always, making me gasp at your lack of tact. “I'm alive, right?”
“Of course, of course, amore mio...” I said, crying, unable to stop doing so, happy and regretful at the same time. “You are alive…”
“Hey, hey, enough, don't overwhelm me, Donna,” you protested, seeing my unfailing displays of affection, all the kisses that covered your face.
“I'm sorry,” I said, confused, regretful, but euphoric. You had returned, my love, you had returned to me.
“Okay, okay... Hey, can you let me see that beautiful girl you have in your arms?” You asked, looking at your daughter, our daughter. I smiled, my vision blurred by tears, and nodded.
“Go with mom...” I whispered as I handed Giovanna to you.
“Hey, what a beautiful girl... What black hair you have...” You said amused, hugging the baby in a terribly tender way, like the mother you were, like the mother I couldn't be. “You're a little Donna, huh?”
The girl made a strange sound and our gazes met for a moment, when I began to calm down.
“Mom has been away for a while, but I see that mommy has taken good care of you, right? Gods, Donna, she is beautiful, she is a miracle,” you commented, looking at me with excitement, one that I did not expect to see again.
“The miracle is that you're back,” I murmured, exchanging happiness for sadness, for guilt. It was all my fault.
“I wasn't going to leave you alone so easily,” you joked, cradling the baby, slowly sitting up, weak, but alive, awake.
“You always take everything as a joke,” I said with a dark voice, annoyed by your indifferent attitude. Cazzo, (Y/N) you almost died because of me.
“You already know me,” you responded, as if you hadn't noticed my annoyance. “Um…” You sighed, seeing my distraught face, seeing how my hand moved away from your body. “Come on, relax.”
“Relax? How can you ask me to do that? I was about to kill you,” I said, breathing nervously again, with an uncontrollable hubbub of voices in my head.
You shook your head, eyebrows raised.
“What are you talking about? Whoa, whoa, mommy Donna really needs a break,” you joked, cradling the baby, talking to her instead of me.
“Well, of course I need a break, I've been here for two weeks taking care of you and you're just making fun of it,” I protested, angry but calm. No, I couldn't mess it up again. “It was all my fault, I almost lost you because of my selfishness, and you tell me to relax?”
“You made a mistake, yes, and I've already forgiven you,” you responded with a more serious tone, facing me as only you could do. “Don't spoil my resurrection, will you?”
“A mistake?” I asked ironically, getting up from the chair. “You should hate me.”
“How curious... Mommy says I hate her, but I don't, what do you think, Gio?” You continued joking, making anger rise through my veins.
“I almost killed you, I have destroyed your life, I have burdened you with the responsibility of a baby that you were not ready for and you don't care...” I said furiously, ignoring Angie's pulling on my dress.
“Your only mistake, Donna, was thinking that I didn't love you,” you said, with your cold expression, with tired, bright eyes. “You are not to blame for the pregnancy complications.”
“But I am to blame for the pregnancy,” I whispered, sitting down again, controlling my nerves, just as I learned for you. “I'm a monster.”
“Donna...” You whispered, getting closer to me, speaking in a way that I didn't deserve. “You are not, and you know why?”
I shook my head, sobbing again. I don't deserve your love, (Y/N).
“Because you regret it,” you said, immediately reminding me of Mother Miranda, who claimed that a monster would never regret her horrible acts. “Look, I know that maybe it wasn't the right way, I know that you did wrong, but we can't fix it now. I have forgiven you and also... Look, look what a precious little thing...” You said in a tender voice, showing me the baby who was lying calmly in your hands. “How can you regret having created something like that?”
“But…”
“Listen to me, Donna. I'm very sleepy and I don't feel like arguing with you anymore. You are not guilty of anything. You never lost me, you will never lose me. I love you, and I loved you then, I love you now, and I will always love you.”
“I love you too,” I whispered, sobbing, accepting your caresses.
“That's what matters. I can't forgive you because there is nothing to forgive. So pull yourself together, smile and let's be a happy family, what do you think?”
“I don't think I deserve it,” I said relaxed, sighing, letting all my fears out with the air. “But I will do everything possible to take care of you, to take care of both of you. I love you so much...”
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itsohh · 7 months ago
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QWERTY Part 1
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A/N: Female reader. This is the start of uh this enemies to lovers but also lovers to enemies series around Price and Makarov. Its going to be mainly resolving around some of the events of MW3.
Summary: One night Price meets a woman at his favourite bar. Plauged by the aspects of her new job she finds comfort in his words. It isn't until years later that he truly realises what that job was.
Word count: 588
Warnings: none
AO3 Masterlist Part 2
ENGLAND 2017
In some ways, one could describe John as a regular at the bar. Yet, it wouldn't be quite accurate. For one to become a regular they would need to actually come on the regular. He didn't though, his job didn't allow him. The closest thing he could be called was a non-regular regular. Despite that, he had never walked in and seen anyone on his bar stool. Perhaps it was a miracle or something behind the scenes but no one took that spot. 
Well, until that moment. 
John walked in and found his way to the seat next to the woman who had stolen his unofficial seat. She didn’t seem to be in a good mood. Her body was hunched over and her face pressed into the wood of the bar. In her hand was an almost empty glass. It had a few cubes of ice inside but aside from that a small ring of water that had melted away was left. 
Price rarely spoke to anyone let alone a stranger but something compelled him to do so as he made himself comfortable on the stool. “Rough night?”
A grunt left her lips and she finally slowly lifted her head and turned her head to look at him. That's when his eyes met her tired eye, your tired eyes. 
“Mmm start a new job tomorrow.” You mumbled out. 
“I presume it's not a good one then?” 
“It's a shit fucking job lemme tell you that.” You let out a sigh. “But someone's gotta do it.”
“Understand that feeling more than you think.” He gestured to the bartender who knew exactly what Price wanted. 
“Yeah? Got any advice then?”
“Never forget why you do it. Find whatever keeps you going and keep that close to your heart.” 
Your head tilted as you absorbed the information. “I'll keep that in mind.” You looked to the bartender as they fixed Price his drink. “It's on me.” 
John raised a brow but didn't refuse. “Payment for the advice.”
You ran a hand through your hair and turned towards him with your entire body, your arm leaning on the bar top. “What brings you here alone?”
“Football game.” He gestured to the TV above the pair of you with his head. 
“The one that got rained off?” Your voice was slightly amused as he looked up to get a proper look just in time for the adverts to finish playing and see the announcement at the bottle of the screen while the commentators spoke. 
“Of bloody course.” He swore under his breath but didn't move to leave. 
“There's always the next time.” You shrugged and gave him a look of pity. 
“Next time I'll be working.” He huffed. 
Your face straightened out and hardened at his words. “I understand that.”
“Busy job?”
“Crazy hours. I'm not thrilled about it.”
“Could always change careers.” He offered. 
You shook your head immediately. “Nah that option long since left the table. You gestured for another drink. “Nope. There's no backing out of it.” You took the glass and waved your card to pay for both of the drinks. 
“Contract?” He raised a brow. 
“There's too much at stake really. I'll adapt eventually I just ah. It's one of those jobs that you get and you just know your life's never gonna be the same.”
“I'll drink to that.” There was a heaviness to his voice and you nodded. The pair of you lifted both of your glasses and together as complete strangers, you drank.
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phenixy-dunnhart · 3 months ago
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WARNING ! SPOILERS for TLOVM season 3 and Campaign 1
I'm a bit sad with all the negativity in the tlovm tags following this new batch of episodes. Because all the usual appreciation and fun details pointing is drown in it. So I'll do my part and draw some light and appreciation for the following things:
"Allura can't teleport us 'cause we mind wind up in the ocean" Nice nod
The beauty of Glintshore sand? crystals ? I mean, I know the entire island isn't covered in it, but it's there and it's gorgeous
Vax and Grog banter, Pike and Vax friendship when she stole his badass line. Who says that the friendships in tlovm are not showed ? It's smaller because they're running out of time but if you keep both eyes open, you can catch the small moments.
How good was the delirium gas ?
Percy having bad Ripley PTSD ?Check.
Orthax forcing the (gas) mask on Percy's face ? Oh f*ck me that was so good.
Elaina's first appearence and Vex's heart torment ? Check
Vex fighting the gas messing with her mind and seeing Percy getting kidnapped ? Great
Her seeing Percy devoured by some hellish pain ? Awesome foreshadowing for Orthax feeding on Percy's soul
I won't dwell too much on ep 7 because I'm Perc'ahlia trash and this was pure gold but ALL their scenes.
And these two shots:
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They're the last thing they think about before passing out. And look at them, they're looking at each other. Great parallels, great cinematography
You want more parallels ? You're not in enough pain ? I've got more ! How about this ?:
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Percy cradling Vex because he doesn't want to lose her.
Vex cradling Percy because she lost him
MY HEART !!!!!!
Anyways back to our regular program: The color scheme in the factory is on point. Predominance of green during all Ripley's discussion with percy, some blasts of orange for Orthax.
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This shot when they want to make us think Percy will go dark but also because he sincerly understand. He sees with her (green) eyes
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Culminating in theses shots:
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In the end, the true Percy is good (he's blue which is both his color and Vex's)
Then we got some nice Pike and Kiki character development with the delirium gas
Percy's fight with Ripley is pure display of his capacities and wits, not unlike Vex's fight against Saundor or Grog's fight against Kevdak. The fights with nemesis are always awesome, well choreographed and both characters and animators flexing.
And I like Grog's delirium both beacause it brings a bit of comic relief in this big painful episode but that's not all there is. Because when he gets out of it, he asks Pike if he hurt her again and you can't convince me that he didn't saw Craven Edge and the pain he inflicted Pike in his PTSD (not showed but we know)
Onto episode 8, love the Stilben flashback and the dead mystic cult leader being Taliesin.
The funeral was powerful and beautiful. The highlights being Cassandra crying her last family member and Vex'ahlia not saying the prayer despite being one of the Dawnfather.
Scanlan putting Kaylie's song music sheet on the altar for Percy breaks my heart. For him, he lost both of them and also he traded the life of his friend for moments with Kaylie (which he didn't even had, that's so sad)
Vox Machina assembling all of their allies with the beautiful OST was awesome while conserving this... heaviness. We're still grieving (at least I'm still am)
Vex and Syldor whole convesrsation. Laura Bailey, the talented woman you are and Troy Baker did a great job at humanizing him. though he's still a prick.
Vaxleth and Pikelan scenes were cute
We've got LARKIN mentioned and by Vax nonetheless !
Earthbreaker Groon and Grog doing the slapping hands/muscles flexing meme !
How brutal Thordak's attacks are in ep 8 and 9, all the people dying to rise up the stakes worked really well in my opinion.
Travis smarts piercing through Grog's 6 INT just like in the campaign
Earthbreaker Groon being a BAMF with that suplex
The teamwork going strong during all the fight
Zahra and Kash coming in to save the day. I love them your honor
My jaw dropped at Kashaw's badass magical attack. THAT WAS AWESOME and dropped further at his death. I couldn't believe it at first and as bold as a choice it was, I really liked it. Because it's a thing to kill NPC nameless army guys but killing a beloved character: that take some balls . And because of the unpredictability, the shock hit. I'm always here for the drama and it was beautifully done (the visuals for the Raven Queen and her powers are always as gorgeous as ominous).
Mary Elizabeth McGlynn also showing off her VA talent
In the end, every VM members getting his moment of glory :
Vex with getting the Syngorn army while being at her lowest/rock bottom ("The truth is the only bargaining chip at rock bottom", really nice parallels with the Stillben flashback + her using Percy's philosophy)
Grog destroying the lair
Scanlan getting them out of there at the peril at his life and ending up in a coma (nice subversion so there are not two dead party members followed up by two ressurections)
Keyleth being her badass elemental self (with her two gorgeous muscial leitmotives "blinded by the light" + "passing through the fire")
Pike being able to absorb Thordak -not red but- blue fire/laser which we saw went through Emon like butter. That's one MONSTAH move with beautiful beautiful colors (red yellow and blue mixing) look at this shot:
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And Vax having the last kill, thinking of his mother doing this for Emon sure but most important for his mom, Vex and himself and what a beautiful shot and power move with the twisting golden and black torpedo that he is.
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A great powerful death for a great powerful foe
And then some sorrow and sweetness. The Vaxleth back hug was adorable.
And that last shot of Keyleth after the confrontation with Raishan makes me long for more and to already be next week.
And that's some positivity and appreciation of CR work because they pour their heart and soul into these series and these characters and it's beautiful and I see it. I hope I could put some light on it at my small scale.
Have a great day and let's wait impatiently for next week and end of season 3
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noobiestnoober · 7 months ago
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Shadows of Destiny (Kai x Reader)
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The story is set during when Kai escapes from the Prison World with the Heretics. Y/N, being a close friend of Kai, who had developed feelings for Kai in Prison World - 1994, found out he escaped and was planning to commit mass murder at Alaric and Jo's wedding, decides to confront and stop him. But she gets restrained by Kai instead.
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"You're going to regret this," Y/N snarled, jerking against the restraints with all her might. The friction of the ropes would scrape her chafed wrists, but she didn't even give a damn; the fury inside her was burning far more than any literal pain. Kai Parker stood before her, his smile infuriatingly calm, "Regret the time spent with you? Never!" His voice was smooth, almost tender, a stark contrast to the malice in his eyes.
Her heart was pounding in her chest. She had known Kai for months. She had seen his cruelty and moments of vulnerability. But this was different; she'd always been able to keep herself cool around him, but this time, the stakes were up. Too many lives depended on her getting out of there and stopping him.
Their history was a complicated one. Y/N first met Kai in the 1994 Prison World, where she was stuck with Bonnie and Damon. Then, he was the charming sociopath who thrived off chaos and destruction. But in those quiet moments, away from Bonnie and Damon, there had been something else. Kai had a way of making Y/N blush with his relentless flirting and teasing. He had a way of getting under her skin, making her feel things she didn't want to acknowledge.
"Y/N, come on," Kai would say, his eyes twinkling with mischief, "You know you like having me around. Admit it." He'd lean in close, his breath warm against her ear, and she would feel her cheeks flush, despite herself trying to stay stoic.
"You're insufferable," she would throw back, drawing herself up and shooting him a look, but inside, she was thrilled with every fiber of her being when he did that. Faced now with the reality of his actions, those memories felt like a distant dream. The boy who had made her blush was also the man who was capable of unimaginable cruelty.
"You think this is a joke, Kai? You think you can keep playing your twisted games and get away with it?" Her voice shook with her fury, but she made herself meet his eyes steadily.
Kai tilted his head, his smile widening, "Y/N, you don't understand. It's not a game; this is beyond my control. This is destiny. This is what I was put on this earth to do."
"Destiny?" Y/N spat out, eyes blazing, "To hurt people, to cause chaos? That is not destiny, Kai. That is madness."
He took a step closer, his expression darkening, "Madness? Perhaps. But it is madness with a purpose. You see, Y/N, I have spent my whole life being told I was worthless, an abomination. But now, finally, I have power. Finally, I am in control."
Her heart ached for the pain she saw flicker across his eyes. For a moment, she saw the boy who had been discarded, who had been made to feel like nothing. But she couldn't allow herself to pity him. Not now.
"Kai, listen to me," she said, her voice softer but no less urgent, "You don't have to do this. You can choose a different path. You can use your power for good."
He laughed, a harsh, bitter sound, "Good? There's no good left for me, Y/N. Just survival. And the only way I survive now is by winning this fucking game."
Y/N's mind raced for something to say to him, "Kai, if you do this, you'll be alone. Completely and utterly alone. Is that really what you want?"
His smile faltered for just a fraction of a second; then it was back, colder than ever, "Better alone and powerful than surrounded by people who will never understand me."
Y/N felt a surge of desperation. She had to break through to him, had to find a way to make him see reason, "Kai, please. I know you. I know there's still a part of you that cares, a part of you that doesn't want to be the villain."
Kai's eyes narrowed, "It's too late for that, Y/N. It's too late for anything but this." He turned away, and for the first time, Y/N saw a hint of uncertainty in his movements.
"Kai, wait!" she cried, struggling against her restraints, "You don't have to be alone. We can find another way. Together."
He paused, his back to her, and for a moment, Y/N thought she had reached him. Then he shook his head, shoulders stiffened. "I'm sorry, Y/N. But this's the only way I know how to be."
And with that, he walked out of the door, leaving Y/N bound and desperate in the cruel world. Her heart went heavy, knowing she had come so close yet so far from being able to save him. As the door closed behind him, she vowed she would not give up. She would find a way to stop him, to save him, even if it were the last thing she did.
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Read Part 2 here >>> Part 2
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varpusvaras · 6 months ago
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"It's settled, then", Bail announced. He had already pushed his chair back and stood up, when he noticed that Mon had not moved an inch. She was still sitting there, just looking at him, with a light frown on her face.
"What?" He asked. "Is something the matter?"
Mon hummed, thoughtfully.
"I think I should be the one asking that", she said. "Is everything alright?"
Bail frowned now, too.
"I'm not sure I follow", he told her.
Now Mon sighed loudly.
"Please don't try that with me", she said. "I have known you for a long time, Bail. I know you. I can see when something is bothering you."
Bail leveled her a look.
"I have my days", he said. "I am not always the paragon of kindness and softness. You should know that."
"I do know that", Mon said. "I know very well that when you are at work, you are very driven by that work. But here's the thing. I have both worked with you for years, and been your friend outside of work just as long. I know how you behave and how you operate, even during the most stressful situations. If you haven't forgotten, we were just in a Galaxy-wide war. The way you are behaving now, this abrasiveness, this tension you are bringing everywhere with you now? I saw you like that in the moments where the whole Galaxy was at the stake. For you to be like this, is just now 'one of those days'. It's not even one of those weeks. Yes, I have noticed. This has been going on for a while now."
Bail didn't turn his eyes away from her, and neither did she turn hers away from him.
It felt like a stand-off, all of a sudden, and the stupidity of it crept into Bail's mind. Mon was not his enemy. This was not the Senate floor, nor was this a negotiation for a freedom of an entire world.
No, this was his own office, with one of his closest friends sitting in front of him, expressing worry for him. Mon was not trying to extort him, she was only trying to help him.
He just didn't know what to tell her. He wasn't the one who was being wronged in any way, and instead was only taking his selfish guilt out on the people around him.
That didn't make him feel any better, either.
Mon's expression softened slightly, as the silence between them dragged on.
"You don't have to talk to me, if you do not want to", she said. "I am just letting you know that I am willing to listen. But, please, if it is something truly serious, do not keep it for yourself. If you won't talk to me, talk to Breha or Fox, at the very least. I know they wouldn't want you to go through something by yourself."
Bail noticed that he had grabbed the edge of his desk tightly, only when he started to feel said edge digging hard into his palm.
Breha and Fox were the last people he could talk to right now, as they were the ones who were being wronged, by Bail himself no less. He could not, would not burden them with himself any further than he already had.
Mon's face grew more concerned again.
"Is it about them?" She asked. "Are they alright?"
"Fox is pregnant", Bail said, before he could think about it too long to stop himself.
Mon paused, her mouth left slightly open.
"Oh", she said finally, blinking rapidly a few times. "Oh. I mean. Is this a place for congratulations?"
"It is", Bail admitted. It really was. Still, despite everything, it was one of the happiest things that had ever happened in his life. "It is very much a wanted thing."
Not in a way any of them would've perhaps expected or wished for it to happen, but a wanted thing nevertheless.
Mon smiled slightly.
"Congratulations, then", she said. "Is everything going well?"
"Yes", Bail nodded. "Both him and the baby are healthy. Breha is having the time of her life spoiling Fox."
"Of course she is", Mon smiled a bit more as she said that. "It's a good thing that one of you can be at home with Fox."
Bail smiled tightly at that. A bit too tightly, perhaps, as Mon seemed to immediately zero in on his expression.
"Is that what this is about?" She asked. "You being here?"
"Of course it is", Bail said. "What else? Breha and I agreed on not even trying to have our own biological children, both for her health, and for my inability to leave my work. That was the agreement with Fox as well. Now, we have one baby at home already, and a second one coming along soon, and I am still just as incapable of being at home, breaking every agreement and changing nothing."
Mon looked at him gently.
"You haven't broken any agreements", she said.
Bail let out a dry laugh.
"Fox didn't make that baby by himself", he pointed out.
"But it was a thing you all wanted", Mon said. "You said so yourself. Are they happy?"
Bail thought about it. The messages both Breha and Fox sent him every day, the pictures, the recordings, the holos of Even pushing himself up on his feet as he learned how to stand, of all the updates from every visit to the doctor. Of the recording of the baby's heartbeat, hearty and strong. Of the happy words and expressions in every single one of them, despite how tired they both were sometimes.
It was worth it, Breha and Fox had both said. Multiple times.
He nodded.
"Yes", he said.
Mon nodded as well, slowly, her eyes assessing him for a moment.
"Are you happy?" She asked then.
Bail paused.
He wanted to say yes. He wanted to say yes, immediately. Of course he was happy. Why wouldn't he be happy? Breha and Fox were both happy, of course he was-
Bail tried to say it. He wanted to say it.
He couldn't.
Mon waited, patiently, for him to say something. Bail wanted to say yes.
He just...he just couldn't. Not without it feeling like he was lying.
His eyes dropped down, to stare at his desk. He just couldn't look at Mon anymore, shame rolling thunderously inside of him.
He was happy. Of course he was.
He was happy.
He heard Mon stand up. Bail listened to her steps slowly coming towards him, and finally stopping right next to him.
Then her hand reached for his, at the one still gripping the edge of the desk, and she laid hers on top of it.
"Bail", Mon said. "You need to talk to someone."
Bail wanted to argue with her.
He couldn't.
He sighed, and nodded.
"Yes", he said. "I...I think I do."
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