#my wailing heart… this scene was everything | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ari-ana-bel-la · 1 month ago

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Hi, Sorry for bothering you but I just read your stories, and they are wonderful. Do you mind me asking if you post these on any of the reading websites? Like Archive or Wattpad. Also I have a prompt for you if you would mind to please write a story on this at your convenience. Its Max with his daughter Eloise (I just created this name here) and well if you could write angst, anything like but a bit angsty. If you cant then no problems at all. I have a fluff one as well, Lando being a young father hiding his daughter till his first win in 2024. He got his daughter at an young age like in 2020. And he is a single father.

I hope you didnt offend by any of my words, and if I did I am sorry. It was unintentional. Hope you have a nice day. ✨

Lando's daughter?!

Lando never thought his life would change so drastically at twenty-one. One day, he was a rising star in Formula 1—barely an adult, living his dream, and surrounded by fans who hung on to his every word. The next, he was holding a squirming, pink-faced newborn in his arms, her tiny fingers curled around one of his. His daughter. Yn.

He still remembered the weight of that moment. The sheer panic flooding his veins when he first read the letter the mother left behind, explaining that she couldn't do it. Couldn't raise their child. She hadn't even wanted to meet his eyes when she handed him the baby carrier. And then she was gone, leaving him with a helpless infant and a heart full of confusion.

At first, Lando doubted himself. How could he, a twenty-one-year-old who could barely keep houseplants alive, take care of a baby? His career demanded everything from him. He had no time for diaper changes, midnight feedings, or learning how to soothe a crying baby. But then he looked down at her. Yn. With her soft, dark curls and big, curious eyes. And in that instant, his hesitation melted away.

He was her dad. She was his world. There was no turning back.

The first year was chaos. Sleep deprivation became his new normal. His apartment was overrun with baby supplies. His friends barely recognized the version of Lando who spent more time researching baby formulas than playing video games. But none of that mattered when Yn gave him her first smile, or when she clung to him like he was the safest place in the world.

Only a select few knew about her. His family, of course. His best friend Max Fewtrell, who had been there since day one with jokes, support, and emergency diaper runs. His team at McLaren, who adjusted travel schedules and provided quiet rooms for Yn during race weekends when necessary. And then there was Dolores.

Dolores had been an unexpected blessing. She lived across the hall, a warm-hearted Colombian woman in her sixties with a booming laugh and a soft spot for babies. The first time she found Lando on his doorstep, frantically bouncing a wailing Yn at six in the morning, she took charge without hesitation. “Ay, mijo, give her here,” she'd said, scooping Yn into her arms with the confidence of someone who had raised three children herself. “You need to sleep before you pass out. I’ll take care of her.”

From that night on, Dolores became Yn’s second family. When Lando had to travel for races, Yn stayed with her. She taught Yn Spanish nursery rhymes, cooked meals that filled Lando's apartment with mouth-watering aromas, and spoiled Yn with the kind of love only a grandmother could provide. Yn adored her.

And through it all, Lando kept his daughter a secret from the public. He didn’t want her life overshadowed by his fame. Yn deserved a childhood untouched by paparazzi or invasive fans.

Which was why, four years later, no one batted an eye when Dolores and a bright-eyed little girl took their seats in McLaren's VIP section during the Miami Grand Prix.

Yn's curly brown hair was pulled into two lopsided pigtails, and her big, curious eyes scanned the bustling scene below. She swung her legs back and forth, the tiny McLaren hoodie she wore swallowing her frame.

"Dolores! Did you see Daddy's car?" Yn gasped, her voice bubbling with excitement. "It's so fast today!"

Dolores chuckled softly beside her, her wrinkled hands folding neatly in her lap. "Of course, mija. Your daddy is very fast. But today, I think he is also a little bit magic, no?"

Yn giggled, leaning against the older woman. She loved Dolores like a grandmother. The warm smell of her lavender lotion always made Yn feel safe, even when Daddy was away.

"He's gonna win," Yn declared confidently. "I just know it."

"I hope so, mi corazón," Dolores said, brushing a stray curl from Yn's forehead. "He works very hard. And I know he wants to make you proud."

Yn nodded vigorously, as if there was no question at all. To her, Lando was already the best. He gave the best hugs, made the silliest pancake faces, and always kissed her forehead before bed, even when he was tired. Winning a race? That was just another thing he could do.

A few rows away, Max Fewtrell leaned casually against the railing, his sunglasses shielding his eyes as he scanned the crowd. He was there to support Lando, of course, but also to keep an eye on Yn and Dolores. It wasn’t that he thought they needed babysitting — Yn was a handful, sure, but Dolores had handled far worse in her years — but Lando had made one thing clear: protect his daughter. Always.

The world didn’t know about Yn. Not really. To the public, Lando was the cheeky, carefree McLaren driver who loved gaming and laughing with his friends. No one knew about the nights he stayed up with a teething baby or the mornings he tiptoed through his apartment to avoid waking Yn before breakfast. And that was how he wanted it.

She deserved normal. And as long as Lando had a say, she would get it.

The race was a blur. Yn squealed and cheered every time she caught a glimpse of the papaya-colored car speeding down the straights. Her tiny fingers clutched a homemade sign that said "Go Daddy Go!" in wobbly, marker-scrawled letters.

When the checkered flag waved and Lando crossed the line first, the entire McLaren garage erupted into chaos. Mechanics cheered, hugging each other as the engineers pounded their fists against the monitors. Dolores clapped softly, a proud smile spreading across her face.

Yn, however, had no such composure.

"He won!" she shrieked, jumping up and down. "Dolores, he did it! Daddy won!"

Dolores laughed as Yn pulled at her hand. "Sí, sí, mija. Calm down or you will fly away."

Yn didn't care. Her heart pounded with joy. She wanted to see him — needed to see him. Daddy always told her winning was special, but it wasn’t everything. But to her, this moment felt like everything.

Lando stood on the top step of the podium, heart hammering in his chest as the British national anthem blared around him. The weight of the winner's trophy felt surreal in his hands. He’d dreamed of this day for years.

But only one thought consumed his mind.

Yn.

As soon as the celebrations wrapped up, he bolted from the podium. He barely registered the cheers from the crowd or the flashes of cameras. His legs burned, but he didn’t stop. He needed to get to her.

The McLaren VIP section was quiet compared to the chaos outside, but when Lando pushed open the door, Yn was already rushing toward him.

"Daddy!"

The sound of her voice hit him like a lightning bolt. He dropped to his knees just in time for Yn to throw herself into his arms. She clung to him tightly, her little face buried against his neck.

"You did it! You won!" Yn said, her voice muffled but filled with pride.

Lando squeezed her tighter, pressing kisses to her temple. "I did, baby. I did it for you."

Dolores, watching the reunion with quiet warmth, stood back respectfully. She had known from the moment Lando took his daughter into his arms for the first time that this boy — no matter how young or unprepared he might have been — was meant to be a father.

Lando pulled back just enough to cup Yn's face in his hands. "Did you watch the whole race?"

Yn nodded, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Every lap. You were so fast!"

His heart melted. "I wanted to make you proud."

"I am proud," Yn whispered. "Always."

He laughed softly, brushing his thumb over her cheek. "I love you so much, you know that?"

"I love you too, Daddy."

For a moment, the rest of the world didn’t exist. It was just the two of them, and the love that bound them together.

But outside the VIP section, murmurs began to ripple through the paddock.

"Did that kid just call him Daddy?"

"Wait, does Lando have a kid?"

"Since when?"

Lando didn’t care. He had spent four years protecting Yn from the spotlight. He wasn’t about to let a few rumors take away the joy of this moment.

Max slipped into the room, a wide grin plastered across his face. "Told you she'd be your lucky charm."

Yn turned in Lando's arms, spotting Max. "Uncle Max! Did you see? Daddy won!"

Max laughed, crouching down to their level. "I saw, mini. You must be magic or something."

Yn giggled, and Lando shook his head fondly. "Thanks for keeping an eye on them," he murmured.

"Always," Max said quietly. "But hey, maybe next time warn me when you're about to blow your own cover."

Lando snorted, standing up with Yn still perched on his hip. "It was worth it."

And as Yn snuggled against his shoulder, her soft breath warm against his neck, Lando knew with every fiber of his being that no trophy would ever mean more than being her dad.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves! I hope you enjoy this story. My requests are always open for you!

-💙🦋

#f1 drivers as fathers #formula 1 #formula one #💙🦋#lando norris x reader #lando norris #lando norris x daughter!reader #norris!reader #dad!lando norris #f1 x daughter!reader #f1 x female reader #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #carlos sainz x reader #charles leclerc x reader #george russell x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #max verstappen x reader #oscar piastri x reader

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writers-potion · 10 months ago

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Let's Scare Your Readers!

Combine the techniques below with the techniques for building suspense to give your readers a palm-sweating sensation!

Darkness

If absolute darkness doesn't make sense in your story, aim for semi-darkness: dusk, a single lantern/candle, heavily curtained windows, a thick canopy of trees, etc. Flickering lights that create confusing shadows can also be effective.

Let the darkness pool gradually around your MC. Show the night or fog rolling in, the camp-fire subsiding, or the candles burn down one by one.

Examples:

The candle sputtered. The light wavered.

The lamp cast its smoky light on the brick walls.

The night was silent, but for the dry rustling of leaves as the wind whispered through the trees.

Sound

Of all the senses, the sense of hearing serves best to create excitement and fear.

the clacking of the villain's boots on the floor tiles, the ticking of the wall clock, a dog barking outside, the roaring of a distant motor, a door slamming somewhere in the house, water dripping from the ceiling, the chair squeaking, the whine of the dentist's drill, the scraping of the knife on a whetstone, a faraway siren wailing the heroine's own heartbeat thudding in her ears.

When the surroundings are dark, your MC will grow to be more aware of the surrounding noise, even if it's not relevant to the plot.

Chill

Make it uncomfortably cold for the MC, and your readers will shiver with them.

powercut cutting off the heating, nightfall naturally bringing in lower temperatures.

winter, evening, a cool breeze that chills everything, survivors running our of fuel, the ceiling fan is over-active, stone builindg/caves/sbuterranean chambers tend to be cold.

Describe how the cold pinpricks the MC's skin, stunting their thinking and making them shiver.

The opposite can also be effective: turn up the temperature using a stove, an overheated motor, or the sweltering sun to make the MC sweat.

Isolation

This is a common technique: let the MC face the monster alone with no external help. It's also easier to limit the resources and escape routes available for the MC.

an abandoned factory, remote mountaintop, the depth of an unexplored cave.

It can also be more everyday locations: a construction site, the sewer, a malfunctioning bathroom.

Meet the Monster

When describing the threat, spread out your descriptions so that (1) the scene has constant action (2) you have material to build up later.

Good details to show:

hands, fingers, nails, talons, claws

the sound of the voice, growl, roar

the smile, teeth

the texture of skin, fur, scales.

Get Visceral

Never tell your readers that the MC is scared. Describe the fright using these physical effects:

the skin crawling, breath stalling, scalp pricking, clenching of the chest, stomach curling, heart thudding, sweat tricking down, clogged throat, pulse in the ears, cold sweat, chills up/down the spine, stomach knotting, breathless, etc.

The Gory Bits

Instead of describing everything, limit yourself to particular details, keeping overall description short. Non-stop gore doesn't shock - its bores.

Create a contrast: the child's mutilated corpse still clutches the doll. The brains from the baby's plt skull spill across the fluffy pink blanket.

Use similes, comparing gruesome buts to something from ordinary life. The intestines look like spaghetti in tomato sauce. The blood spilling from the mouth looks like lipstick.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

💎If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram!

💎Before you ask, check out my masterpost part 1 and part 2

💎For early access to my content, become a Writing Wizard

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writing-fanics · 1 year ago

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Nothing lasts forever

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

[warning: cheating: angst: panic attack: implied death]

‘More than anything music box’

As you stood there, your heart felt as though it had stopped beating at that very moment. Your breathing started to slow down as your smile faltered and transformed into a frown. A look of profound sadness and sorrow took over your face as you gazed at the scene before you.

Your eyes were fixed on Lucifer, one of the most beautiful angels in all of Heaven, the one you had opened your heart up to and shared your deepest feelings with.

But now, you were witnessing him cheating on you with Lilith, the first woman and Adam's wife. The pain you felt was almost unbearable, as you watched the love of your life betray your trust and shatter your heart into a million pieces.

You could feel your throat closing as your breathing quickened. You felt sick to your stomach as if someone had punched you in the gut. You wanted to throw up. You wanted to scream. To cry, to disappear from existence. You couldn’t believe he’d do such a thing to you, were you not enough?

Were you not as beautiful as she is? Were you too clingy? To annoying? Why did he betray you and your trust?

He promised to always be by your side when you needed him, to always catch you when you fall. To be your shoulder to cry on. To never break your trust.

But here he was breaking that very promise and trust, leaving you feeling empty and hollow. The two of you were made for each other, and with the scene unfolding before you. Made you think otherwise.

“I love you, Lilith,” whispered Lucifer, as he stared at Lilith in awe kissing her on the lips.

Your whole world shattered as your back hit the tree, and you slid down onto the ground. Placing your hand over your mouth, muffling your wails. You couldn’t breathe and felt the world closing in on you. You were nothing to him. You sniffled quietly placing your head into your hands, and wept as you swiftly flew away.

You fell into a heap on the floor of your house, sobbing as you curled up into a ball. You saw everything and what you saw would forever be engraved into your memory, you’ll never get it out of your head. Seeing them like that, him like that with another woman. Made your stomach turn, how could he do such a thing to you?

“W- Was I not enough?” You whimpered, as you lay in the fetal position. Your face is red and puffy cheeks stained with tears, your heart aching and unbearable pain. You knew he felt what you were going through at this moment, and couldn’t care less to comfort you. Your love was bound and could feel each other's emotions when they became severe, and you knew for a fact he could feel it.

But didn’t care enough to comfort you. He was having too much fun with Lilith, doing things that he should only be doing to you his lover.

You thought he would never do such a thing to you. Never betray you and break your heart, and here he was ripping it right out of your throat. If he had noticed you would he have stopped? Would he have kept going? Taunting you, teasing you, on an act he’d never done to you. Such an act he’ll never do to you now.

You thought your relationship was good perfect even. Yes, you had the occasional fight but would always end up back in each other’s arms, holding each other lovingly. Feeling safe and secure in each other's warm embrace.

“I'm so sorry, my dear duckling," he whispered, pulling you close and showering your shoulder with gentle kisses. "Please know that I understand how you feel.”

"I forgive you, Luci," you said, enveloping him in a warm embrace and smiling through your tears as he held you. He pressed a tender kiss to your forehead and whispered comforting words in your ear, promising to make things right.

You banged your fist against the cold ground; gripping at the fabric of your clothes, as you cried. The tears didn’t seem to stop and wouldn’t anytime soon. You couldn’t breathe, the room around you started to spin. You felt dizzy and nauseous, feeling bile rising in your throat causing you to gag. You swallowed and gripped the side of your head.

You tossed it to the ground, screaming and crying in anger and frustration. “HOW COULD HE DO THIS TO ME!” You shouted, trashing everything that reminded you of him. You couldn’t stop crying, the things this man did to you. How he made you smile and laugh, how he made you fall head over heels.

You wanted to disappear and fade back into dust, your original form. To not be forced to live with this pain for all eternity, knowing that even after this you’d still love him. He’d come back and apologize slowly making up for it but…..

You stood there with the other angels, his siblings trying their best to comfort you. As you watched him be banished from Heaven, cast down with his new lover. Leaving you there alone in Heaven, with no shoulder to cry on.

You found yourself standing amidst a group of angels, feeling a sense of unease and trying hard to keep yourself composed. As you looked ahead, you noticed him standing before Lilith, his wings stretched out protectively, shielding her from any harm. The sight of him being so close to Lilith made your heart ache with a mixture of emotions.

You couldn't help but wonder if you were so unpleasant to look at that he couldn't even spare a glance in your direction. The whole situation left you feeling conflicted, and you couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy towards Lilith, who seemed to have his undivided attention.

As you stood there looking at him, you noticed that his gaze had shifted to meet yours. It was then that you saw a hint of remorse in his eyes, and you couldn't help but feel a wave of sadness wash over you. In that moment, a single tear trickled down his cheek, and you averted your eyes, unable to bear the intensity of the situation.

As you looked away from him, he noticed the tears that had welled up in your own eyes, and the hollow, defeated expression etched on your face. It was a moment of deep emotional turmoil for both of you, and the silence that hung between you was almost suffocating.

“Nothing lasts forever,” Azrael said, as he placed his hand on your shoulder squeezing it gently in reasurrance.

You shook your head and stepped outside of the courtroom, stopping at the stairs. You reached around your neck taking off the necklace, Lucifer had given you years ago.

You stared at it for a moment, opening it. A soft melody played, tears trickled down her cheeks as whisps of yellow magic swirled, around the locket music box. A duck swam in a pond while a swan, swam up next to it nuzzling their heads into each other.

As she witnessed the heartwarming scene unfolding before her, she couldn't help but let out a choked sob. A tearful smile graced her face as she watched the duck and the swan gradually transform into Lucifer and You, respectively. The two characters held each other closely, their embrace exuding a sense of comfort and security.

Lucifer, still holding onto You, took to the skies, flying around with exuberance. His laughter filled the air, and his smile was contagious. You, too, shared in his joy, reveling in the moment with him.

As they soared through the clouds, a vivid memory of their first kiss flashed before your eyes. You remembered how you had wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, and he had held you close to him. The moment had been magical, and it was a memory that you cherished deeply.

You smiled, closing the locket as a gust of wind blew the magic away, and you along with it, returning back to your original form to dust.

A/n: idk what I just created there’s no part ii for this unless y’all beg me for it but idk still]

Taglist

@froggybich

#lucifer morningstar x reader #Lucfier x reader #x reader #fanfic #angst #romance #headcanons #hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin lucifer #lucifer magne #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader

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claramelooo · 16 days ago

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WOVEN FATES (13/???)

A little bit more of this. I really think we deserve a break, right?

Enjoy <3

MINORS MUST NOT INTERACT

Pairing: AgathaRio x Reader

Summary: being alone with Agatha was smoother than you imagined.

Fragile II

The studio was in a silent frenzy, like a living organism preparing for a moment of pure intensity.

Lights were being adjusted, cameras positioned at precise angles, microphones tested to capture every nuance of the pain about to unfold in the scene. Everyone knew this was the scene—the emotional climax of the story.

You sat in a corner of the set, watching everything with sharp eyes, feeling the charged energy in the air. The crew spoke in hushed tones, moving carefully so as not to break the bubble of concentration Wanda had created around herself.

Agatha stood at the center behind the cameras, the main crew gathered around her. Her long fingers toyed with the hem of her blouse, her square-framed glasses resting perfectly on the bridge of her sharp nose, highlighting her well-shaped brows, now drawn together in a small crease as she observed, analyzing every detail.

At the center of the stage, Wanda stood frozen in the doorway—too afraid to step inside and face her worst fear. The lighting cast harsh shadows that deepened the tragedy etched into her expression.

The set was devastating: the boys’ room was in disarray, colorful toys scattered everywhere, a toy car overturned near the door, the beds—messy in a way that felt wrong—held two small, familiar bodies.

Silence fell over the set like a heavy veil.

The scene began.

At first, Wanda only looked. Her eyes widened as if her mind refused to process what was in front of her. One hesitant step, then another. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. And then, it hit. The absolute recognition of loss.

A scream tore through the air.

It was a sound that made your stomach twist—something primal, ripped from the depths of the soul. A wail that couldn't be faked. Wanda threw herself over the bodies, her fingers trembling as they brushed over her children's pale faces.

"No, no, no… my babies…"

The words came out in choked sobs, her body shaking with despair. She rocked them gently, as if they could still wake up, as if there was still hope. But there wasn’t. And that realization shattered her before your eyes.

Her cries weren’t just acting—they were raw, visceral, something that made even the camera operators swallow hard. You hugged your own arms, feeling every word like a blow.

You wrote this scene. Deep down, you knew this was what you wanted. You wanted your mother to feel the pain of losing you—but it had been the complete opposite, hadn’t it?

You created this pain. But you never expected to see it like this, so real, so alive.

From across the room, you saw Agatha inhale sharply, her gaze sharpening as she watched. Her hands gripped the arms of her director’s chair tightly. As focused and composed as she was, when you looked at her, you found something rare—vulnerability.

Maybe it was Wanda’s performance, or maybe… maybe Agatha understood that kind of pain.

Thick tears ran down Wanda’s green eyes, her body curled protectively around children that were never truly hers. She buried her face in their hair, as if afraid they would disappear.

And your heart pounded in your chest, the air in the room growing thin.

Who was Wanda?

Her performance felt too real. It hurt.

“Mommy’s going to bring you back. She will… She’ll do whatever it takes.” Her voice broke, and in that moment, there was truth.

Tears burned at the back of your throat, desperate to escape. This—this was everything you had wanted.

This was it.

The words you had longed to hear. The ones you had waited for, in vain. But she never came back. She never fought for you.

So you had to save yourself.

And now, those words existed.

But they weren’t meant for you.

The knot in your throat tightened.

“Cut!” Agatha finally called out. The entire studio remained still for a few moments, as if no one was sure they were allowed to move, to breathe again.

Wanda remained on her knees, her breath still ragged, her eyes glistening with tears. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, the emotion vanished. Her breathing steadied, her shoulders squared, and the vulnerability disappeared behind a neutral, almost cold, expression.

She rose with a fluid motion, lifting her chin as she ran her fingers through her hair. A crew member rushed forward to hand her a plush robe, which she slipped on without hesitation, crossing her arms as if trying to push away any remnants of the scene she had just lived through.

Her forest-green eyes swept across the studio before briefly landing on Agatha, who gave a small nod of approval. Then, they found you.

You watched the shift in her demeanor with a weight in your chest.

How could someone break apart so completely, and then, in the next moment, act as if nothing had happened? The answer should have been simple: Wanda was a brilliant actress.

But for some reason, it felt like more than that. As if she had been trained to bury her emotions the moment they were no longer needed.

Without another glance, she turned on her heels and walked off the set, heading for her dressing room.

Before you could fully process everything that had just happened, Agatha’s assistant hurried over, clutching a tablet against her chest.

“Hey, can you take the twins for lunch? They need some time to relax before the next scene.”

You blinked, taking a second to register what she was asking.

Your gaze flickered toward the two boys sitting in foldable chairs, distractedly playing on their phones, oblivious to the emotional wreckage their last scene had left behind.

They were talented actors—but at the end of the day, they were still just kids.

“Yeah, of course.” Your voice came out softer than you intended.

The assistant smiled gratefully before hurrying off to handle something else.

You exhaled, the weight of an odd exhaustion settling on your shoulders. But your mind wasn’t completely here.

It was still stuck on Wanda.

On her eyes.

On the way the pain had felt real.

And how, suddenly, it didn’t anymore.

Sitting at a table with the twins, you finally felt like you could breathe. The studio’s in-house restaurant had a refined atmosphere, with rustic wooden tables and walls lined with framed posters of old films.

As you chewed your sandwich, you watched the boys devour their generous portions of mac and cheese, as if they hadn’t eaten in three days.

“So, how’d you guys get into acting?” you asked, taking a sip of your juice.

Twin #1 didn’t hesitate, pointing at his brother. “It was his fault. He wanted to be famous. I just went along because I’m a loyal brother.”

“Hey!” Twin #2 protested. “That’s not how it happened! I wanted a new video game, and my mom said she wasn’t going to waste money on that. Then, I saw a casting call for a commercial and thought, ‘Easy. I’m charming and good-looking, they’ll pick me right away!’”

You raised an eyebrow, resting your chin on your palm. “And did they?”

He rolled his eyes, shoving another bite of mac and cheese into his mouth. “Of course not. They picked him!” He pointed at his brother, pretending to be indignant.

Twin #1 grinned triumphantly. “But I made a brotherly pact and said I’d only take the role if they let him in too.”

The brother sighed. "And that's how I became an actor. I just wanted a PlayStation..."

You laughed, shaking your head. "And now here you are, the children of Hollywood’s biggest star."

"Yeah," Twin 2 said with his mouth full. "And I still haven't gotten my PlayStation."

Before you could continue the conversation, Agatha’s assistant approached, holding a tray with an elegantly packaged meal.

"Can you take Wanda’s lunch to her dressing room?"

You blinked, suspicious. "Huh? Me? That’s job stacking, you know. I’m a screenwriter, not a food delivery girl."

The assistant shrugged. "You’re an intern."

Your expression darkened instantly. You narrowed your eyes at her, as if thinking: If only she knew.

You knocked on the dressing room door without much patience, balancing the tray with Wanda’s lunch. "Come in!" her voice came from the other side, and you sighed, turning the doorknob.

The room was intimate. Warm lights illuminated the large mirror, surrounded by small bottles of makeup, a half-empty coffee cup, and a script covered in scribbled notes.

Wanda sat in the red velvet armchair, legs crossed, still draped in her plush robe. Her hair was slightly damp, as if she had quickly run a towel through it.

But her eyes? They were just as piercing as in the scene she had just filmed.

You walked over to a small table beside the mirror and set the tray down. "Your lunch."

Wanda tilted her head slightly, a small smile playing on her lips. "Is this part of your job too?"

You rolled your eyes. "Apparently, today it is. Need anything else, Your Highness?"

She chuckled, a low, soft sound. "I think I want company."

Your eyebrows furrowed. "Company..." You stopped, realizing she wasn’t joking. "You should’ve put that on your list of demands earlier. I’m just an intern."

"Oh, yes... An intern." Wanda ran her fingers along the arm of the chair, her gaze never leaving you. "But you’re not like the others, are you?"

Your body tensed at the way she said that, like she was studying you. "And what does that mean?"

"It means you’re getting special treatment, and we can’t let that continue, can we?" she said, standing up, walking toward you like a lioness.

"Wanda," you said in a warning tone, as if she knew the line she was about to cross with you.

"Tell me the truth. What do you have with them?"

The tension in the air became almost palpable, and for a moment, you had the impression that she could see beyond what was allowed. As if Wanda had the ability to pull the answers from you without needing to ask directly.

"I... I could ask you the same thing! After all, what were you doing at their house?" You crossed your arms, keeping a safe distance between you. However, you feared what Wanda's answer might be.

But the answer never came. The redhead just analyzed your face with curiosity, searching for something. A flaw.

Her green eyes slowly drifted down to the pendant on your necklace—the small silver lock glinting under the dressing room's warm light. It was a subtle detail, but one she didn’t miss.

Wanda tilted her head slightly, her expression wavering between curiosity and sudden understanding. Her eyes returned to yours, narrowed.

"Interesting..." she murmured, a small laugh escaping her lips. Before you could react, she stepped closer and took your hand.

Her touch was warm, her fingers gliding over yours with deliberate slowness. But then… she stopped. Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly, as if she had felt something unexpected. Her hand released yours as if she had been burned.

You blinked, confused, watching as Wanda clenched her fingers, her gaze distant for a brief second.

And then, she laughed. Low, almost humorless, shaking her head as if she had finally understood something.

"You really have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into." She let out a disbelieving chuckle. "Go."

The word came as a sharp command. Wanda gave a half-smile, but her eyes said something else—as if she was considering something, pondering over you.

You hesitated. You didn’t know if you wanted to ask what she meant by that or if you should just turn around and leave. But the weight of her gaze made it hard to move.

After all, what had Wanda seen in you?

Leaving the dressing room, you sighed. The day had been so intense and chaotic, and you felt like you desperately needed to rest.

Your phone vibrated in the pocket of your shorts, and you already knew who it was.

Agatha.

My trailer.

You swallowed hard, feeling your palms sweat. You knew you should be used to interacting with Agatha by now, but your mommy could be unpredictable. That both scared and hypnotized you equally.

Without thinking twice, your feet carried you to her trailer. You opened the door slowly, peeking inside, expecting a disapproving glare or a reprimand.

But instead, you found Agatha sprawled on the divan, barefoot, with the same relaxed posture you saw at home every day, her eyes half-lidded as if lost in distant thoughts.

"Come here, baby." Her voice was lower, almost a whisper.

You hesitated but approached, sitting beside her on the divan. She slid her fingers over your wrist gently, as if checking if you were really there. Then, her eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw something different in them.

Something more... tender.

"I missed my baby," she murmured with a small smile, her hand reaching for your cheek, the touch warm and comforting.

Your heart clenched at the unexpected confession. You looked away, feeling warmth rise to your face. "I thought I did something wrong."

She chuckled softly, shaking her head. "You worry too much about that. Not everything is punishment, my dear. Sometimes, I just... need you close."

The confession caught you off guard. She didn’t say things like that. Not like this.

Silence settled between you, thick, until Agatha let out a long sigh and lay back on the divan, her gaze lost on the ceiling.

"Sometimes, I find myself wondering how lonely you must have felt." Her voice was lower now, but it carried weight.

You turned your head to look at her, but she was still staring at the ceiling.

"Everything you wrote," she continued, twirling her finger in the air in a vague gesture. "That’s a lot for a girl like you, sweetheart."

You let out a brief, almost humorless laugh. "There are thousands of girls like me, Aggie."

The nickname slipped out before you thought too much, a test. It hung in the air between you, soft, intimate.

She blinked slowly but didn’t comment. Her mind seemed far away.

"No." Agatha whispered. "Not to me."

You held your breath.

She finally turned to you, her expression carrying a kind of confusion that seemed to unsettle her. "I just… I don’t understand how she let you go."

Oh.

You understood.

Slowly, you turned onto your side, lying down next to her, your gaze fixed on the ceiling, ignoring how her eyes were still on you.

Talking about it was never easy. In fact, you weren’t even sure you could put it all into words.

She didn’t leave me all of a sudden," you began, your voice low. "It wasn’t a dramatic abandonment, nothing that felt movie-worthy. It was slow… almost imperceptible."

Agatha didn’t say anything, just watched, waiting for you to continue.

"At first, it was the little things. She forgot to pick me up from school. Forgot to buy my favorite candies. Then, she started spending more time away from home. She’d say she was coming back, but she wouldn’t. And I saw my dad losing his mind because of it." You let out a small, humorless laugh. "Until one day, she just didn’t come back."

The silence in the trailer seemed to stretch.

"I was five," you murmured, the bitter taste of the memory lingering on your tongue. "I had to put my dolls aside and learn how to cook, how to take care of myself. To be an adult before I even understood what that meant."

Agatha didn’t look away. Her eyes, so blue and always full of secrets, were soft now.

"You shouldn’t have gone through that," she said, her voice gentler than usual.

You let out a short, dry laugh. "But I did. And there was no one to stop it."

She took a deep breath, a gesture that felt heavy with something deeper. "And your father?"

You shook your head. "He was never exactly present. He worked too much. We were six kids. He had to make the American Dream happen." You stated rationally, but you didn’t even realize how unsteady your voice was. "I can even understand him. I can understand her, too. No woman should be forced to go through so much."

You were crying. Your lips trembled, unconsciously pulling downward.

"No," Agatha whispered, her voice firm yet strangely soft. She leaned forward slightly, just enough for your eyes to meet. "Don’t try to understand them. Don’t look for justifications. Just… feel this pain. This anger."

You stared at her. Above you, she looked like a dark oracle, an expert in what she was saying.

"You were alone all that time."

"I always was."

"You’re not anymore."

This time, there was nothing enigmatic in her blue eyes. They were open, intense, filled with a vulnerability you didn’t know she possessed.

She took your hand, feeling the soft, pink palm against her own. "Do it." She wasn’t looking at you, and that made her even more beautiful. "And maybe I’ll ask you to make me a list of your favorite candies."

"Oh. The mean director is being more understanding of the intern’s need for sweets, huh?" you teased, even with your eyes still full of tears and vulnerability.

She hummed, kissing your forehead and sighing against your hair. "Only because it’s you, darling."

The warmth of her kiss on your forehead lingered even after her lips had pulled away. Such a simple gesture, yet heavy enough to make your chest tighten again.

You closed your eyes for a moment, absorbing that rare moment of softness. No matter how fierce, dominant, or cruel Agatha could be, there were lapses when she simply… was.

No masks, no ulterior motives. Just Agatha.

"If I’m an exception," you murmured, your eyes still closed, "then I think I should take advantage of it."

"Oh?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah." You opened your eyes, turning to look at her with a playful glint. "Does that mean we can have pizza for dinner?"

Agatha sighed theatrically, but you caught the shadow of a smile on her lips. "You really have no limits, do you?"

"Of course, I do," you said, resting your head on the arm of the couch, your eyes shining with amusement. "Pizza just isn’t one of them."

She let out a quiet chuckle and gracefully got up from the chaise lounge, grabbing her phone to check the time. "I’m picking the flavors."

"As long as it’s nothing with artichokes, I’m in," you replied, closing your eyes again, exhausted but comfortable.

And after that, the day felt lighter, and before you knew it, it was time to leave, and you were already getting into Agatha’s car at the usual bus stop.

[...]

The movie was halfway through, the screen’s glow casting soft shadows across the trailer. Fight Club was a classic that both of you, surprisingly, loved—the intensity of the story always sparked discussions about identity, control, and desire. But at that moment, a comfortable silence settled between you.

You were chewing on a piece of pizza, nestled against the cushions on the couch, feeling the weight of the day finally melt away.

Until your phone vibrated beside you.

A message.

Alice: "Are you coming?"

You stopped chewing, staring at the screen for a moment.

Agatha’s gaze remained fixed on the movie, but you noticed the way her jaw tensed slightly.

"Who is it?" she asked, not taking her eyes off the screen.

You swallowed the bite of pizza and cleared your throat. "Alice. She invited me to a party tonight."

Agatha lowered her gaze for a moment. "Hm." The response was neutral, but the tension in the air said otherwise. "And are you going?"

The question felt like a test.

You hesitated.

Should you go?

Alice was your friend, and you knew the party would probably be fun. Right? You’d dance, meet her friends. But the day had been long. And more than that, something about Agatha’s posture felt just as vulnerable as you did.

"No." You shrugged, grabbing another slice of pizza. "I had a long day. I’ll stay here with you, Mommy."

The sparkle in her blue eyes was instant.

She didn’t smile. She didn’t say anything. She just took another sip of her diet soda without looking at you. But you knew you had hit exactly where you wanted.

Her heart.

You opened the chat and typed:

"Hey. I’m really tired today. How about another time? :)"

Before you even sent it, you felt Agatha’s gaze on you. When you looked up to meet her eyes, she simply raised an eyebrow, looking pleased.

The silence between you was comfortable, only the sound of running water and the soft glide of a toothbrush filling the space.

After the movie, Agatha was sitting at the vanity, legs crossed in front of the mirror, spreading lotion over her arms with slow, meticulous movements.

You watched her through the reflection, her skin still damp from the shower, hair loose over her shoulders. She looked calm, lost in her own thoughts.

You spat the foam into the sink, rinsed your mouth, and wiped your lips before speaking:

"You know, you never talk about your past either."

Agatha paused for a moment but didn’t look up.

Before she could say anything, you added:

"The past before Mama."

She closed the jar of lotion slowly, her fingers still tracing the lid as if they needed something to do. "There’s not much to say."

"There is." You turned, leaning against the vanity and crossing your arms. "And I’d like to hear it."

Agatha finally lifted her eyes to meet yours. The blue of them seemed darker under the dim bedroom light. She hesitated for a moment, as if weighing whether it was worth giving in to your curiosity.

"My mother…" She began, her voice lower than usual. "She was a difficult woman. Rigid and unpredictable."

You frowned, taking in every word.

"She had… rules. Lots of rules. I learned early on that love wasn’t free. That there were conditions."

Your chest tightened upon hearing that. You knew that cruel logic better than you would like.

"And your father?" you asked, your voice soft.

Agatha averted her gaze to her own hands, pressing her fingers together. "It doesn't matter."

You took a deep breath, stepping toward her. "Nothing was easy for you either."

She let out a humorless chuckle. "Easy was never something I expected."

Silence fell between you for a moment. You felt like you were treading on delicate ground, but you didn’t want to stop.

"Have you ever thought about—"

"Enough." Her voice came sharp, cutting. You froze.

Agatha stood up abruptly. Her eyes were dark now, the previous vulnerability replaced by something much colder.

"I'm not your curiosity project, darling."

"That’s not what I meant," you argued, feeling frustration rise.

"But that’s how it sounded."

She said, walking to the bed without looking at you. She lay down, the thick sheets swallowing her, and your chest sank.

You sighed, feeling the weight of silence crush your shoulders. You didn’t mean to push so hard. You knew Agatha didn’t handle these things well—being looked at so closely, having someone trying to decipher her.

But you wanted so badly to understand her.

With a sigh, you turned off the lights and walked to the bed, hesitating for a moment before slipping under the sheets. She lay with her back to you, her body rigid, as if still in defense mode.

"I'm sorry." Your voice came out low, hesitant. "I shouldn’t have pushed."

She didn’t respond.

Silence stretched on, and you forced yourself to close your eyes, trying to calm your racing heart. Then, after minutes that felt like hours, Agatha finally broke the silence.

"It's her fault."

You frowned, opening your eyes. She was still facing away, looking out the window, but her voice was heavy with something that made your heart clench.

"It's because of her that I'm like this. Harsh. Severe. Mean."

The last word came out harder than the others, as if she truly believed it.

And then, without even thinking, you said:

"You're not mean."

Your voice was firm but filled with emotion; it felt like a spell of confidence and love.

That made her finally turn to you. Your eyes met hers, intense and full of something you couldn't decipher.

For a moment, everything seemed suspended. As if the air was thick between you, charged with something too big to name.

Suddenly, you missed Rio.

Someone to mediate. Someone who knew how to handle the hurricane that was Agatha Harkness.

But Rio wasn’t there.

It was just you and Agatha, navigating a sea of unspoken words.

You and her.

You and Agatha.

She furrowed her brows, letting out a disbelieving chuckle before closing her eyes, as if trying to ignore you and all the nonsense you were saying.

"You don’t know what you’re talking about."

But you did.

You had gotten so much from her in just one night, and that feeling wouldn’t go away. It only grew, like a plant pushing through the cracks of concrete.

You took a risk once more.

"You're not mean, Aggie. You just accepted the role she imposed on you."

And just like that.

She went still.

For a few seconds, it seemed like Agatha didn’t know how to react.

You moved closer, feeling her breath brush against your skin. Neither of you knew what to say now. Neither of you knew what to do with this closeness.

Your lips brushed against each other.

The touch was almost accidental, but you felt the softness, the warmth of her breath against your mouth.

And then you made the move.

It was a kiss of gratitude.

For everything she did today and always. How she took care of you. How she cherished you.

It was intimate.

Unique.

Agatha didn’t pull away. On the contrary, you felt her fingers slowly glide over your face, holding it with a gentleness that didn’t match the hardened image she insisted on maintaining.

When her lips finally responded to yours, it was like a relieved sigh in the darkness.

And for the first time that night, you felt that maybe, just maybe, you were seeing the real Agatha Harkness.

The first tear slipped down before she could stop it.

You caught it with your lips, salty and warm, as your hands trailed down the valley of her ribs like a pilgrim on sacred land.

"You're so beautiful," you whispered against the pulse where her past throbbed in blue veins.

Courage filled you, perhaps from the confidence of seeing this powerful woman surrendering entirely to you. Your fingers slid lower, to where she was wet and perfect.

The beautiful woman, with her robe completely open, her medium-sized breasts and hardened nipples exposed, made you salivate. And you simply couldn’t resist. Your mouth found her perfect nipples, drawing a sharp inhale from her below you.

"Honey..." Her skilled hands found your hair, long fingers threading through the strands, tangling them—urging you to go deeper, to savor the feeling.

The emotion that took over you was dangerous. Forbidden. You shouldn’t feel like this… Capable of impossible things. But when Agatha was moaning beneath you, writhing and encouraging you to give her more, that’s exactly how you felt.

Desire consumed you like a flame that couldn’t be contained. You moved, adjusting yourself over Agatha, your legs intertwining with hers in a fluid, natural motion. The scissoring position—intimate, intense—placed you face to face, breaths mingling.

"Mommy," you moaned, voice needy, lips brushing hers as your bodies aligned, clits pressing together in a hot, wet friction.

"Fuck." Agatha let out a low sound, almost a choked moan, her hands gripping your hips tightly. "My good girl," she murmured, her voice rough, laden with something that made your stomach tighten.

You started moving, slowly at first, rubbing against her in a rhythm that made both your bodies tremble. The sensation was electrifying—the heat, the wetness, the perfect friction. You felt every shudder of Agatha, every ragged breath she released.

"Just like that..." she whispered, fingers digging into your hips, guiding your movements. "You're so good for me, darling." Her sharp cheekbones flushed with arousal. "Oh. God—Fuck!"

Your heart raced at her words, the reverence and desire blending into an overwhelming wave. You quickened the pace, bodies colliding with growing intensity. Agatha’s breathing became faster, more labored, and you felt her heat rising, the slickness dripping between you.

"You're perfect," you murmured, lips finding hers in a deep, devouring kiss. "So beautiful, mommy. All mine."

Agatha arched her back, pressing her breasts against your torso, her hardened nipples grazing your skin. Her hands roamed down your back, nails digging slightly, leaving marks you knew you’d wear with pride.

She claimed your lips, thrusting her tongue in deep, the movements rough and filthy. A woman who needed to take and be taken. The kiss had no meaning anymore, just a mess of teeth, tongues, and bites.

When you pulled away, a thick string of saliva connected you.

"More," she ordered, her voice a low growl that echoed through your ribs. "Give it to me, darling." Your sweaty foreheads pressed together. "Give mommy everything."

You obey, quickening the pace, your bodies moving in perfect sync. The room fills with wet sounds—high-pitched, needy moans and the soft creak of the bed. Agatha is close; you feel it in the way her muscles tense, in the way her fingers dig into your flesh.

"I’m gonna—" She chokes, her face buried in your neck, teeth grazing your skin. "Fuck— Baby, you’re gonna make… make mommy come.”

The drawn-out, desperate whine is your breaking point. You move faster, thrusting deeper, grinding against her with an intensity that makes both your bodies tremble, as if you’d fused into one. Because you did—you followed her right over the edge.

The orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, your bodies arching and shaking in wild, unrestrained desperation as she muffles your name into the sheets.

You don’t stop, keeping the rhythm, prolonging every ripple of pleasure until she collapses, exhausted and spent, against the mattress.

When you finally still, you lower yourself over her, lips meeting hers in a soft, tender kiss. Agatha wraps her arms around you, holding you like she never wants to let go.

"My good girl," she whispers, her voice gentle, laced with something that makes your chest tighten. "My sweet girl."

You curl into her, breathing in the warmth of her skin, the scent of her perfume mingling with sweat and sex.

"That was…" She inhales sharply, trying to steady her breath. "So good."

You laugh, humming in agreement, nuzzling into her chest. But your stomach still buzzes. More of her. More of Agatha.

You kiss her collarbone, and she shudders, oversensitive.

"Baby," she gasps, fingers tangling in your hair, gently tugging you back. "Mommy’s too sensitive right now."

But you don’t want to stop. Can’t. The need for Agatha still burns in you, a flame that refuses to die. You shake your head, lips finding her breast again, kissing every inch of skin you can reach.

You murmur a muffled sound, your voice hoarse and thick with want.

Agatha lets out a laugh mixed with a whimper, her grip tightening in your hair. "My insatiable little girl," she whispers, her voice soft, laced with something that makes your pulse race.

You don’t answer, too focused on exploring her body with eager hands and lips. Your fingers slide down Agatha’s trembling thighs, tracing the slick, swollen folds still wet and tender.

"Baby…" She arches, fingers knotting in your hair. "You’ll kill me."

"I’ll take care of my mommy," you whisper, lips brushing the soft skin of her inner thigh, nipping gently. "So you’ll never have to cry again."

Agatha moans low, her grip on your hair tightening. "My good girl," she rasps, her voice frayed with something that twists your stomach. "So… so precious."

You keep going, fingers gliding over her slick heat, electrified by the power to make Agatha shatter, to strip her of control.

The broken, needy whine she lets out undoes you. You speed up, thrusting deeper, grinding against her with a ferocity that makes both your bodies quake.

Agatha gasps as your middle and ring fingers slide into her entrance—slow, deliberate, a procession, not an invasion. Her body opens like a night-blooming flower, drenched in dew and secrets.

"Slow…" she orders, but her trembling voice gives her away. "Mommy needs to feel… everything."

You obey. Your thumb circles her clit while your fingers curl inch by inch, seeking the spot that makes her legs shake.

"Like this, mommy?" You kiss her neck, where her perfume mixes with sweat. "Want me to worship every part she’ve ruined?"

Her answer comes in silent spasms. Her nails claw your shoulder, leaving half-moon crescents blooming red.

Then you quicken the pace.

The room fills with slick symphonies. Your fingers move at a precise angle now, a deep massage she’d never allow in any other context. Her head thrashes wildly, as if even she doesn’t know what’s coming, her chestnut hair fanning like a shattered halo.

"P-please…" The plea is choked, almost pained.

You pause, fingers still inside her. Stunned that the word left her lips. Agatha turns her face away, her icy-blue eyes glossed with unshed tears.

"Please, baby. Mommy’s begging."

Fuck.

It destroys you. Destroys whatever shred of sanity you had left.

Your wrist twists in an ancient rhythm—fast, slow, fast again. The bed creaks in Morse code. She’s close; you feel it in the way her muscles clench like a fist around your fingers.

"Baby, I’m gonna— Oh. God! Fuck, that’s—"

Before she can finish, the orgasm splits her in two. Her furious blue eyes roll back, hips bucking, trembling legs locking around your waist.

Hot pulses soak your hand, the sheets drowning in wave after wave. You hold her hips aloft, dragging out every spasm until she screams.

You don’t stop, moving relentlessly, stretching every aftershock until she collapses, wrecked and full, into the mess.

"Fuck, baby!"

You keep going. Just a little more. Just to prove what you do to her. That she’s as ruined as you are.

"Oh my god. God. Again!" The laugh that spills from your lips is cocky, like you’ve won a marathon. "You’re ruining me." She moans loud, and suddenly you wish your other mommy were here. She’d be proud, you can tell.

You leave your fingers buried inside her even after the second climax, studying every tremor that racks her body like a hunter assessing prey. Sweat drips between your pressed breasts, your breath mixing with hers in a haze of possession.

"Do you even know what you do to me, mommy?" you whisper against her thigh, teeth sinking into soft flesh. Your voice cracks, a plea disguised as a taunt.

Agatha tries to turn her face, but you grip her chin hard. The tears streaking your own cheeks drip onto her chest.

"Say it. Say you’re as fucked up as I am."

She laughs—a raw, desperate sound—as her legs quiver around your waist. "You little fucking piece of shit…" she snarls, but the heaving of her stomach betrays the truth.

You curl your fingers inside her, finding her G-spot with the precision of someone who’s memorized every inch of this territory. "Say it."

The moan she lets out is nearly a howl. "Yes! Yes, fuck! Happy now?! You make me… make me insane, you psychotic little slut—From the goddamn beginning."

You speed up, turning words into animal sounds. "How much?"

Agatha grabs your wrists, nails drawing blood. "To the bone. To the soul. Until I forget what I am—"

The third orgasm plows through her. She writhes like a wounded animal, fluids dripping down your hand like a river of shame and surrender.

You watch, hypnotized, as the woman who shaped your private hell unravels under your touch.

"Look at me," your voice is steel, yanking her hair until her tear-drenched blue eyes meet yours. "You wanted this all along? From the moment you saw me? Huh?"

Her trembling lips form the answer in slow motion: Yes. Fuck. Yes. My sick little slut. Your innocence. Your youth. Your energy. You’re mine!

The laughter that escapes your throat is wet, triumphant. You lick her fluids from your fingers, maintaining eye contact, each suck a period in your private war.

When you collapse onto her, it's Agatha who envelops your burning body, her hand tangled in your hair like diamond shackles. "You destroy me," she whispers into your neck, tongue licking the salt from your tears. "And I let you. God, I let you."

You slowly retract your fingers, bringing them to your own mouth without breaking eye contact. The taste is amber and electricity.

"Hmmm, delicious, mommy," you say, now completely unfiltered, and she lets out a breathless laugh.

"You are unbelievable."

You chuckle, burying your face in her cleavage. "But you loved it."

"I tolerate it," she corrects, but you feel the hidden smile at the top of your head. "Besides, who’s going to explain to the staff what happened to the sheets?"

"Mama's fault?" You look up with a cute pout and puppy-dog eyes.

"It's your fault," she rolls her eyes, trying to maintain her tough facade, but there’s a small, genuine smile peeking through. "You and that… finger technique you learned God-knows-where."

"On the internet. I watched some videos on Pornhub, you know, with MILFs and everything." You almost unconsciously mimic Rio’s accent, and Agatha rolls her eyes.

Agatha pushes your face away with the palm of her hand, laughing despite herself. "You're insufferable."

"But you adore me."

"I tolerate you," she repeats, but pulls you back into an embrace. "And maybe… I should give the staff a raise."

You snuggle into her neck, smiling against her skin. "We can say it was an accident with the tea," you suggest, knowing Agatha’s passion for drinking tea at night.

"Two boiling cups of tea on my king-size bed?" She wets her lips with her tongue, the corners pulling into an ironic smile.

"They were very aroused cups. They couldn’t help themselves."

Agatha lets out a grunt, but her fingers trace soft circles on your back. "You’re the worst intern I’ve ever had."

"And best and only baby?" You blink several times, turning up your charm.

The silence lasts half a second too long. You lift your head, worried, but find her soft blue eyes—now with a hint of green bleeding into the irises, mixing with the sky blue—almost… shy.

"Maybe," she murmurs, covering her face with her hand, pushing your body off the bed. "Now shut up and get me some water before I change my mind." Her voice ends in a dry rasp.

You leap from the bed, naked and disheveled, striking a superhero pose. "Sparkling or still, your highness?"

"With ice. And… bring my phone and the ice cream from the freezer."

"Ice cream!" You cheer, jumping, bumping into a chair, and nearly knocking over a lamp.

"Rum raisin!" she calls over her shoulder, already adjusting her robe with royal dignity.

"But I don’t like that one!" you grumble with a pout.

"I pay, I choose."

You pout but don’t argue. You knew Agatha well enough to know she always won these little battles.

As you walk to the kitchen, you feel the lingering warmth on your skin, as if her presence had left an invisible mark on you. And maybe it had.

Opening the freezer and grabbing the damned rum raisin ice cream, you roll your eyes. Of course Mommy would choose this flavor. So… old. But deep down, you loved her demanding ways. She always knew exactly what she wanted—and now, that included you.

With the water and ice cream in hand, you return to the bedroom and find Agatha reclining on the bed, glasses perched on the tip of her nose, the blue glow of her phone screen reflecting on her face. She was texting, probably Mama. Or maybe firing someone—who knew.

She looks up at you, assessing your nakedness with a gaze almost too clinical to be innocent, before letting out an exasperated sigh.

"I should scold you for walking around like that in the house."

You smile, setting the things on the nightstand before crawling back into bed, nestling against her. "But you love it."

"I tolerate it," she corrects automatically, but the arm around your body tightens just a little more, contradicting her words.

She picks up the ice cream and the spoon, but instead of eating, her eyes glimmer with mischief. "Want a bite?"

You wrinkle your nose. "Rum raisin? That tastes like old people."

"Oh. You cheeky thing. Have you ever tasted old?"

A mischievous grin spreads across your face. You arch your eyebrows, pretending to think.

"Well…"

"Argh, your Mama is influencing you too much," Agatha exclaims, feigning indignation, but there’s an indulgent smirk behind her accusatory words.

"Taste it," she says, holding the spoon to your lips, challenging. "If I have to tolerate you, you can at least share my impeccable taste."

You roll your eyes but comply. As soon as the ice cream touches your tongue, the strong rum flavor takes over, and you regret it instantly.

"Ugh!" You make an exaggerated grimace. "This is horrible!"

Agatha laughs out loud, a rare and genuine sound.

And, for some reason, hearing that uninhibited, unrestrained laugh does something to you. Without thinking much, you snuggle closer, resting your head against her chest.

She hesitates for a moment—a second too long for someone like Agatha Harkness—but then, without a word, she wraps her arm around you, her body warm and firm against yours.

The silence that settles this time is different. Comfortable.

You close your eyes, listening to the steady rhythm of her heartbeat beneath your ear, inhaling the familiar scent of lavender and something warmer, something more Agatha.

You stay like that, breathing together, letting the world outside wait.

Then, in a soft, almost distracted tone, Agatha murmurs against your hair:

"I adore you, darling."

Oh.

Your heart stumbles for a second, a beat out of sync.

You pull back just enough to look into her eyes, gaze locked with hers.

And then, with a small—but genuine—smile, you answer, voice low but full of certainty:

"I know."

And you did. After what happened today, maybe Aggie had shown it beyond words.

Just for you.

She rolls her eyes, but you catch the corner of her mouth curling into a little smile.

And that’s enough.

~*~

I always wanted say theses words to Agatha. She really wasn't that bad. You aren't bad, my readers and I hope you know that <3

Tag List <3

@vyvvycg @rosekjsses @3liyuh @indentity0018 @beggingonmykneesforher @reginassecretlover @trying-to-do-good @imjustvibingsworld @mbxoxo @jazzyxqzl @eternallyconfuzed @ctrlaltedits @sheriffhaughtearp @lesbiansweet @i-luv-w1men @htinha157 @syssmin @wandasslut3000 @fuzzygiantlamphorse @imaginaryblogger01 @aboutcustardcreams @upsidedowndanvers @starbucks-06 @absolute-memegarbage @trinity2k @greyella @angel-kitten-babygirl-u-choose @whitelotus00 @dandelions4us @creaturesaphique @warpdrive-witch @sweetmidnights

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idcbabyialreadylostmymind · 2 months ago

Text

•Disease

Viktor x God/ess!reader

Synopsis-Viktor is in the verge of death, only a forgotten god can bring him back; what’s his fate?

cw- character death, bad writing, god!reader, writer watched what if when she started this, sexual undertones, kissing, reader is referred as ‘you’, uhhh I gen don’t know what else to put 😭

“I could be the doctor, I can cure your disease…”

Mortals. Primitive, selfish beings, they take so much but give so little. They don’t know it always comes back to bite them in the end.

Jayce eyes shoot open taking in painful gasps of air, delirious he stands up on wobbly legs. Looking around he’s horrified by the carnage that surrounded him. Where the council room once stood only rubble and mangled corpses of the councilors take its place. His breathing quickened, Mel. He searched frantically finding her incoherent, he helped her to her feet before his heart stopped. Viktor.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” Jayce cursed himself before he realized he found his best friend, his partner's body; broken and bloody. Jayce ran towards the dying man. “No, no Vik come on stay with me.” The Talis boy cried, ripping Viktors dirty button, pushing up and down on his chest, hearing the crack of a rib with every compression he gave. His vision went blurry with tears. Viktor couldn’t die, Jayce wouldn’t let him. This isn’t working. I need to get to the lab. Was all Jayce could think, lifting Viktor off the floor racing to their lab.

He threw Viktor down, going through everything he possibly could to save him. There was nothing. How could this be? All those endless nights in the lab, countless nights gone with sleep, how many times they had to run over their morals for the greater good. How could this be? Jayce slammed his hands down on the stretcher Viktors body lies. He hadn’t realized he began crying again. And this time he couldn’t stop. “Please, please, anyone save him. Save my partner. Save Viktor.” He cried out into the air, it was insane, he knew nothing could hear him, help him. He was alone.

•

“Save him…. Save Viktor.”

Your ears rang over and over, the same phrase repeated over and over and over again until it was scorched into your brain. “Fine. Fine, Fine!” You grimaced walking up the invisible stairs into a room unlike any other; a room full of mirrors all differing in shapes and sizes.

You could see into any universe through these mirrors , anywhere anytime, everywhere all at once. You flowed through time and space, keeping the contingency in balance; but the punny little mortal kept disturbing you. Looking through one of the mirrors you touched the middle of the portal closing your eyes focusing all your energy to find that one little speck. Your terrestrial energy hummed around you; your plane of existence shaking all around you as if a glass ball under pressure about to shatter. Gotcha.

The fog of the portal disappeared and in it replaced a beautifully devastating scene, where one single action could create a new branch of reality. But this man doesn’t seem to be doing anything, but cry.

He was quite pitiful. The other man, the one he cried over, close to death if not already there. An essence radiated all through his dying body, you could feel the power he could hold. What a waste of potential.

You listened closely as the male pleaded and pleaded. “Save him,” he wailed. “I’ll do anything, give anything.” But it wasn’t him you wanted.

You bargained with yourself, if you saved the dying man you could have another soul, another disciple. But then your oath, if you broke then who knows what the Watchers would do.

“But, the Watchers haven’t been heard from in millenniums. I’m sure one life does not matter.” You mutter to yourself taking in a deep breath before you reach into the mirror grabbing Viktors hand and pull his soul from his body and bring him into your realm.

Viktor awoke gasping for air, he looked around panic feeling out his nerves. There was nothing, actually nothing but white, he was in a blindingly white room with no doors apparently. He looked down and saw his body, that was definitely not his. Where his metal protected body once was a white void takes his place, it didn’t feel like his body but a replica of what once was. Just as he went to find a way out a voice caught him. “Finally you’re awake I was wondering when you would—“

“Who are you?” Viktor cut you off from giving your gracious welcome speech, he studied you as you gathered yourself from his rude barbaric homosapien ways. You were indescribable, you went above all meanings of magic or logic he has ever known. Your body was like his but different. Colors of deep hue swished through your glorious temple, unlike his body yours blended with the void as if you bent it to your will. You floated around him ten times his size, terrifyingly beautiful.

“I am everything and nothing.”

“What do you mean?”

You don’t answer him, only swaying back and forth studying the statue in front of you, having truly forgotten how little human bodies can be.

“I heard your mortal man beg for your life, pleading for your soul's salvation.. I can give you salvation, Viktor.” You hummed only bringing Viktor deeper into your symphony of madness. “I can cure your disease.”

“What disease.” If all he can say through all this lunacy. “The disease of death.” You continued voiced strained almost as of this was exciting you, the longer you went on the clearer everything became, the blast killed him and this must be his hell.

“If I am to live again there will be a logical– a right way to do it.” Viktor tried to rebuttal your divine interference.

“Nothing can save you, no medicine, nor any human magic. But I can be your anecdote” You moved so fast Viktor couldn’t even catch your face as you moved back and forth.

“What.. I don’t– I don’t believe this.”

“I can make you believe.” You suddenly disappeared just for Viktor to feel a hand drag down his back.

“You are the flesh maggots adore,” you whisper into his ear, hands feeling his body up. “But I can make you so much more.” Your voice entranced him, enchanting his soul. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you’ll transcend any and everything you’ve ever done on that little speck of a planet of yours.”

“How?”

Gosh the questions have mortals always been this annoying?

“I’ll merge the smallest piece of my soul and I'll exchange and you will give me yours.” You explain an exaggerated smile stitched on your small, your face muscles strain he was concerned for you, they would surely cramp if you continued.

“My what?”

“Oh my— your soul. What else?” You look at him as if he was an insolent child and to you he was.

Viktor, well he was calculating whether or not this could be real or not. How out of 1 million probabilities this is the afterlife he was stuck with and if he was lucky this is all a dream and he’ll awake in a hospital, maybe a little sore, but definitely not survived by a forgotten god. As if hearing his thoughts the creature before him pushed him on the ground, straddling him.

“Forgotten’s a harsh word, I’d like to think of it as temporarily disposed of. And like I said before,” you spoke softly, hands caressing his shoulders and face, Viktor’s stomach clenched an unfamiliar and unwelcome warmth filling his body. “No human medicine will work for you. Only I can help you, so let me cure you.�� You looked into his eyes, no deeper. It was as if you were connecting with his very being, so he definitely wasn’t thinking with the next words he uttered.

“Fine.”

He gave in way quicker than you thought, you smiled delighted. Getting off of him quickly and lead him to another place of whatever plane of existence you were on. This time there was one thing, a huge pitch black temple, the sculpture looks as if made at the depths of Tartarus. It made one quite unsettled how off it looked compared to the heavenly light that could burn one’s eyes out blazing behind it.

But one thing Viktor was thinking, was how big this place is.

When you two reached the temple and he looked back to you, you had a much more serious expression, your angelic features scrunching up to make an unnatural scowl. He could tell you were never meant to be unhappy.

“Kneel.” Your instruction cut through his ears, slicing his eardrums. Your demand was quite painful. You looked back remorse painting your eyes. But you had to remain in control.

As you knelt beside him you dipped your hand into a golden dish filled with water as pitch as the temple. He hadn’t even realized what was in front of them. An altar. Dawned with candles that never melted, flowers that never wilted, fruit that would never rot. Unfamiliar Oil aromas mixed into his nostrils. Four cups each different in size and style sit on their own corner on the altarpiece. Who knew immortal beings have their own gods?

“Please ancient gods, forgive us for our mortal sins…” you whispered an unintelligible prayer, dipping in the gold dish four separate times kissing your hands in between the dips. You poured all different elements along with the water into a different golden cup. Then you grabbed each chalice and poured blood-like tar out of each speaking what Viktor assumed were names, that even he couldn’t pronounce.

“As you have sacrificed for us we shall for you.”

That caught his attention. He couldn’t even speak when you grab his hand and without a knife cut his hand open with the tip of your fingernail. “W-wha…” He couldn’t even speak as you did the same, your blood pouring out the same as he. He held his hand hissing at the burning pain and you just groaned, snatching his hand back. “Stop being a baby.” You say healing the cut with a wave of your hand over his.

“Now drink.” She said, bringing the golden chalice to his lips deaconing him on. His lips touched the liquid gulping four times, it was bitter and tasted like death.

He watched you as you downed the rest, the red drink dripping down your chest. You look back at him, a new ferocity freed from your soul, grabbing the sides of his perfectly aligned face and smash your lips into his. Viktor was taken aback, he tried to push you away but you were too strong and suddenly he found himself falling into the kiss. Your warm muscle found his lips parting them biting his lip so hard he bleed the metallic taste feeling up your mouth and before he could try and push away it felt as if something was being shoved down his throat. It was excruciating, excessive, euphoric.

As you merged yourself using all your will to not consume his entire being, Viktor felt as if he was at the top of the world. His eyes rolled back in ecstasy, never having felt this much pleasure before it was unreal, unnatural and he needed more.

He grabbed your arms pulling your inhabited body closer, his body sparked a new energy, a powerful energy all through your body, it made you lust for more. Your soul's powerful emergence created a light, The light that was both of you, burned brighter and brighter until it combusted stabbing the white voided room into a black hole.

And then Viktor was gone.

•

“They broke the oath.” A deep, dark voice spoke.

“This cannot be.” A jittery one shuttered.

“An act of rebellion I tell you. Who knows any deity now will think they can do whatever they want no respect—“ An old shriveled on spouted on and on.

“Quiet.” Said the fourth voice, all falling silent . “They will be dealt with accordingly, but first let’s see what they are planning…..”

Mortals are not the only ones who take things and never give back, Gods are the only real selfish ones; but they never know until the very end.

#arcane jayce #arcane viktor #arcane #arcane x you #god!reader #goddess!reader #viktor x reader #viktor x you #arcane x y/n #arcane x reader #arcane league of legends #viktor lol

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amathslutsguidetofandom · 1 year ago

Note

I seen this gif of Bucky and immediately thought of him taking a nap on the couch with yours and his newborn daughter sleeping peacefully on his chest and Alpine sleeping on the arm of the couch next to his head and you come home from the grocery store to see the cuteness overload on the couch and can’t help but take a picture of your two favorite people🥹🩵

Take A Pic, It'll Last Longer

PAIRINGS: James "Bucky" Barnes x Wife!Reader

WARNINGS: extreme fluff

WORD COUNT: 753

Sighing hard, you drop the heavy plastic bags at the door. You, being you, were too stubborn to make two rounds to just get groceries. Yes, the apartment has an elevator, but you were that girl.

You toe off your shoes and hang your purse on one of the multiple hooks beside the front door. And you pause, realising one major thing.

It is quiet, extremely quiet.

"Honey?" you whisper into the front hall, waiting for a reply. But to your surprise, there isn't any response.

You walk slowly, your body on high alert, as you turn the hall and look at the sight before you.

Your whole body relaxes instantly at the scene draped across your grey couch.

Your husband lays across the three-seater, with his metal arm secured around your four-month-old daughter on his chest. You pout, and your heart warms even further when you see Alpine sleeping in the crook of his neck. Her head's on the armrest and her tail hanging over the edge of the couch.

"Aww," you whisper. You quickly pulled out your phone and snapped a very cosy aesthetic picture of the scene in front of you.

Bucky's super-hearing hears the shutter of the camera and stirs awake. His arm is secured around his little girl as he manoeuvres Alpine easily.

"Doll?" His voice rough with sleep, "you finished quickly." He places the cat gently on the couch and walks over to you, giving you a loving kiss on your lips.

"Not many things to get," you smile up at him. Your baby stirs awake to both your voices and begins to whimper at the disturbance. Bucky bounces her on his arm, and her cries are quickly soothed.

"Hand her over, I need to feed her," you say tiredly, already dreading the task of putting the groceries away. You pluck the baby from his hands and Bucky rubs your shoulders, "alright. Then I'll put the groceries away, love." It's like he read your mind.

You groan and thank him.

-----

You wake up to the sound of your alarm and harshly tap at your phone to hit snooze. Bucky wraps an arm around your middle and pulls you to his chest.

"Why do you have to put that thing to go off so early babe?" he groans into your hair. You chuckle and rub his arm, "because any second now, your daughter is going to get hungry and start crying."

And as if on cue, you hear the tiny wails of your little girl from down the hall. He chuckles and kisses the nape of your neck, "don't know how you do it."

You laugh and slide off the bed, "oh, and my other alarm is also set, so just switch it off when it goes off, yeah?"

Bucky nods with his eyes closed, not wanting to get up.

The alarm you told him about goes off about fifteen minutes later.

Bucky groans while he reaches for your phone on the nightstand, and he switches the alarm off.

He was about to turn your phone off and put it away, but that's before he realizes that you changed your wallpaper.

It used to be a picture of you two on your wedding day, but now it's a picture of him, your daughter and Alpine sleeping on the couch.

His heart warms, and he silently thanks his lucky stars for finding a woman like you after all this time. After everything reality has put him through, he's thankful that the universe has given you to him as a sorry for all the harsh moments they’ve dumped on him.

-----

You quickly shoulder your satchel and check the battery of your phone, before pulling on your heels and grabbing your car keys.

"Bucky, babe, I'm leaving for work!" You exclaim, at your husband who is currently changing your baby girl's diaper.

He walks out of the nursery with your daughter in his arms, and he gives you kiss on your lips, "have a good day sweetie, someone's gonna miss you."

Your little girl shrieks and giggles at you as you kiss her chubby cheek, "gonna miss you too, lovebug."

Bucky opens the door for you and you two have your last 'goodbye' kiss

"Oh and one more thing," Bucky says into the hallway of the apartment. You look back confused, "what is it?"

Did you forget something? Was something missing? What was it?

"Don't forget to send me that photo, your wallpaper," he winks at you and closes the door.

💌💌💌

What a beautiful ask, I really enjoyed writing this!!!!

Sorry for the late reply, was caught up on some uni work lmao.

Hope y'all enjoyed it!!!

Till' then

Stay Coquette-y,

Anya 🫶🏽🕊️🎀

#bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes and reader #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes headcanon #bucky barnes oneshot

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cherrylibby · 3 months ago

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Defying Orders

word count: 1027

The scene was a cacophony of tension and anticipation. The team had the building surrounded, waiting for the SWAT team to arrive and execute the tactical plan. The air was thick with the hum of radios and the distant wail of sirens approaching. Aaron Hotchner stood near the command vehicle, his eyes sharp and calculating as he monitored the situation, ready to call the shots at a moment’s notice.

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest as she scanned the area. Through the broken blinds of a second-story window, her breath hitched—there he was. The unsub, a wiry man with a wild, desperate look in his eyes, was dragging the small, terrified child further into the dilapidated building. The boy’s muffled cries reached her ears, tugging at her every instinct.

Without thinking, Y/N shot to her feet.

“No!” Hotch’s hand shot out, grabbing her arm in a firm but not bruising grip. His voice was sharp, authoritative. “Don’t. The SWAT team isn’t here yet.”

His dark eyes locked onto hers, a storm of urgency and warning swirling in them. For a moment, her feet hesitated, caught between his command and the primal urge to act.

But then she looked back at the boy. His small frame, the helpless way he struggled against his captor—it was too much.

“I can’t just stand here,” she hissed, yanking her arm free from his grip.

“Y/N!” he called after her, but she was already moving.

Morgan and Prentiss exchanged a look, their unspoken agreement clear as they immediately followed her.

“Damn it,” Hotch muttered under his breath, his jaw tightening as he signaled for the rest of the team to prepare for immediate action.

Y/N’s feet pounded against the cracked pavement as she sprinted toward the building. Her weapon was drawn, her breaths shallow but steady as adrenaline surged through her veins. She barely registered the shouts behind her, the sound of Morgan and Prentiss closing the gap as they covered her six.

Inside, the dim light and the scent of mildew hit her like a wall, but she pressed on. She could hear the unsub now, his frantic shouts as he tried to maneuver with the child in tow. She followed the noise, her focus razor-sharp, every fiber of her being attuned to the mission.

“FBI! Stop right there!” she yelled as she rounded the corner.

The unsub froze, his eyes darting between her and the child. For a split second, time seemed to stand still.

Then chaos erupted.

The tension was palpable as the jet soared quietly through the night. The usual hum of camaraderie among the team was conspicuously absent. The cabin felt colder than usual, and the silence between you and Aaron Hotchner weighed heavier than the lingering pain in your leg.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, watching as Aaron methodically unwrapped the bandages on your injured leg. His movements were precise, almost mechanical, but his jaw was tight, and his eyes avoided yours.

“I’m fine,” you murmured, wincing slightly as he dabbed at the wound with antiseptic.

His head snapped up, and his stern gaze silenced you immediately. The words died on your tongue as his expression conveyed everything he hadn’t said since the incident.

Hotch didn’t speak as he continued rewrapping the gauze, his hands steady but his shoulders visibly tense. When he finished, he packed the supplies back into the first aid kit and placed it on the table beside him. Finally, he leaned back against the seat across from you, arms crossed, his dark eyes locked onto yours.

“What you did,” he began, his voice low and trembling with barely restrained anger, “was reckless. Stupid. Do you have any idea how close you came to getting yourself killed?”

“I—”

“No.” He cut you off sharply, his tone rising for the first time since the incident. “You don’t get to justify this. You disobeyed a direct order. You ignored protocol, ignored me, and put yourself in harm’s way. Do you even understand what that did to me?”

“I did my job, Aaron,” you shot back, your voice breaking as you tried to defend yourself. “That child would’ve died if I hadn’t—”

“You could have died!” he interrupted, his voice cracking as the composure he clung to unraveled. “You think I don’t know what you were trying to do? You think I didn’t see it? But do you have any idea how angry I was? How terrified? For a moment, I thought—”

His voice faltered, and he exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face as he struggled to regain control. His usual stoicism was gone, replaced by raw vulnerability.

“For a second, I thought I was going to lose you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I was scared out of my mind, Y/N. I’ve faced unsubs, bombs, and shootouts, but nothing—nothing—terrifies me more than the thought of losing you.”

Your chest tightened as his words hung in the air, heavy and filled with emotion. You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came.

“I can’t—” he began again, his voice breaking as he stepped closer. “I can’t lose you. Not like that. Not because you thought you had to prove something or because you didn’t trust me to protect you.”

His eyes glistened as he spoke, and for the first time, you saw Hotch—the unshakable leader—on the verge of tears.

“I need you to promise me,” he said, his voice trembling. “Promise me you’ll never do something like that again. I can’t go through that twice.”

Tears pricked your eyes as you nodded silently, the weight of his confession hitting you harder than any reprimand ever could.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Aaron inhaled deeply, his expression softening just slightly as he crouched in front of you, resting a hand on your uninjured knee.

“Just… don’t scare me like that again,” he said, his voice raw with emotion.

For the first time since the mission, his gaze met yours and stayed there. It wasn’t just anger in his eyes—it was fear, relief, and something much deeper, something he couldn’t quite put into words.

#aaron hotch fluff #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch angst

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blackbleedingrose · 1 year ago

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Long Lost Morningstar - Part One

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing(s): Lucifer x daughter! reader x Lilith

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Warnings: Forced child abandonment

Notes: This is my first Hazbin mini fic. This will be a mini series, so there will be a part two but it may take a little while as I tend to get busy with work and school - so please, bare with me.

Words: 880

"No! No! Please!"

It's no surprise Lucifer and Lilith fooled around a bit during their days in the Garden of Eden.

What was surprising was the moment Lilith discovered she was pregnant.

Despite the shock and slight fear of being new parents, Lucifer and Lilith were overjoyed at the news.

When they found out the baby was going to be a girl, the two cried in pure happiness.

Lucifer became adamant, and a little overbearing, about doing everything for Lilith not wanting her to overwork herself or the baby. This did annoy Lilith (being the independent woman she was), but she knew he just wanted to make sure she and the baby were safe.

When Lilith went into labor, Lucifer went into full panic mode (imagine that one scene from The Office)

Lucifer: *freaking out* "OMG! IT'S HAPPENING! DON'T PANIC, HONEY!

Lilith: *calmly packing the hospital bags*

Lucifer may have passed out during the delivery when his curiosity got the best of him and decided to see what was going on down there (I imagine seraphim's or angels born in Heaven aren't born the natural way and instead created through magic).

Lucifer woke up from the sounds of crying and when he came to he saw a tiny body being carried by one of the nurses.

After rejoining Lilith's side (and making sure she was okay while profusely apologizing for passing out) they waited for the nurses to clean up the baby.

The moment the two saw one of the nurses bring over a pink bundle, their hearts filled with unbridled love and joy.

She was so small and had tuffs of blonde hair. She had Lucifer's red cheek circle's and Lilith's eyes.

Lucifer's eyes welled up with tears as he lovingly gazed down at the tiny person in his lover's arms. "She's perfect, Lily".

Lilith agreed with happy tears as she laid a gentle kiss on their daughter's head.

The two named her (Y/N) - (Y/N) Morningstar.

(Y/N) was a lively baby who adopted her father's bubbly and curious personality, as well as his love for ducks.

Her first toy was a duck plushie Lucifer had made himself.

However, despite having everything they could want in the Garden, Heaven, and now their new baby - they wanted something more.

They wanted to share free will with humanity in hopes that Heaven would finally see Lucifer's ideas and change their suffocating rules so (Y/N) could live in a world that wouldn't stifle any of her future dreams.

This lead them to tempt Eve with the apple, causing the unfortunate chain of events that lead to Lucifer and Lilith's trial.

The two were found guilty of bringing evil into humanity and as punishment they would be sent down into Hell.

However, before they sent the family into eternal damnation Heaven decided (Y/N) was innocent as she was only a baby who knew not what her parents had done.

Being a child of a seraphim and one of humanities first human's, they saw potential in her for Heaven's future - so they decided (Y/N) would stay in Heaven while Lucifer and Lilith would go down to Hell.

"Take the child," Sera ordered one of the court angels. "No! No! Please!" Lucifer and Lilith begged with tears falling down their faces as they held (Y/N) closer to them. The court angels forced the wailing (Y/N) out of her crying parents arms.

That was the last time Lucifer and Lilith saw their daugther before being banished to Hell for all eternity.

To keep (Y/N) from discovering her true lineage, Heaven decided that Lucifer's twin brother, Michael, would claim to be her father and raise her as a role model seraphim - one that follows Heaven's rules.

As (Y/N) grew up it became increasingly obvious how much she took after her parents. She had Lucifer's curious and cheerful nature, and Lilith's eyes, long blonde hair, and grace - both her parents beauty present in her features. The perfect combination of the two.

She especially adopted Lucifer's six large wings, only they had a pink under surface and gold tips.

To bypass any questions of her mother, Michael told her that he had created her from stardust with both his and Lilith's likeness - only using Lilith as a reference for a female.

Michael made sure her curious nature didn't go as far as Lucifer's, keeping her busy with her education and where he can keep an eye on her.

To keep her in check he told her about Lucifer and Lilith, but that they were her uncle and aunt who had lost their way and fallen from grace.

When she entered into adulthood, Heaven decided it was time for her to bear more serious responsibilities.

That's how (Y/N) Morningstar Demiurgos became one of Heaven's trial record keepers/recorders (she sometimes sits in trials and writes what's being said for the records).

It was mainly because Michael wanted to her to have a busy office job and away from exploring and getting too curious (he hoped being in trials would satisfy her curiosity, but made sure to keep her from asking too many questions).

And for awhile everything was perfect and in Heaven's favor. . .

. . .Until a certain Princess of Hell came to Heaven with a dream.

#hazin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel lilith #lucifer x reader #lilith x reader #lucifer x daughter reader #lilith x daughter reader #morningstar reader

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enbypotat53 · 1 month ago

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(SPOILERS FOR TNM6!)

Holy fucking shit. Two years of waiting was so worth it. I'm not even kidding I have been sobbing and shaking for the past half an hour.

I have way too many screenshots so I'll try to condense it but FIRST OFF LOOK AT THESE CUTIE PATOOTIES??? Oh my god realising that this was a year onward from the murders was like a knife to the chest; seeing Tophat and Sketchpad living together and ACTUALLY HAPPY FOR ONCE?? AUGHHH I LOVE THEM 💔

I'm not joking when I say I went back and screenshotted almost every scene GPS was in, but I'll include this one when talking about the memories because GPS hiding behind the couch is SO damn cute 💙

And. Oh. Oh my god. My fucking heart. They care SO much about Tophat and Folder, and the new song?? PEAK. Average TNM W. Seeing all of the adorable moments of these three together?? Heals the soul, but it's SO bittersweet knowing they'll never see eachother again. I'm ABSOLUTELY redrawing some of these, they're too cute not to :,3

Okay but THEY ARE SO IN LOVE?? THEY. AJDJFJFJFJ THEY ARE SO IN LOVE. I. WORDS CANNOT EXPRESS. HOW IN LOVE THEY ARE. GOD. PLEASE ALLEN JUST. LET THEM BE HAPPY FOR ONCE. P L E A S E.

"You just.. wouldn't get the full picture. It's the same with memories for me. Would it still be me.. even if I was missing a few bad ones?"

This is.. genuinely such a fantastic line. GPS has always been my favourite character, but.. damn. The idea that even bad memories hold value because they're still memories; still a part of you, and still might contain the people you love most? They're genuinely such a well-written character, and it's plain to see just how much they care for their friends. And they have a point! Memories shape you, good and bad. As much as the bad ones hurt, it can also help to learn from them in order to make more good ones in the future. And it seems Sketchpad and Tophat did just that.

God. Codey's betrayal was definitely forseeable, but it still hurts. The "I'm just following my programming" line gives me similar vibes to Speech Bubble and Spraypaint in a way; everyone has their part to play, even if (in Codey and Binary's case) it's a harmful one. I'm glad they did the right thing in the end, though. And Binary for SURE gives me Airy vibes, I both adore and despise them and to be honest that's EXACTLY what I could've hoped for in an antagonist. They're GREAT.

Wait a sec..

Binary..

OH I GET THE JOKE IT'S BECAUSE GPS IS NONBI-

Oh.

OH.

Hear that sound? That's the sound of me wailing in agony as my heart shatters into a million pieces.

"This is.. really it.. huh?" THEY SOUND SO SCARED?? God this entire episode I wanted to give them a huge hug and a slice of cake and to tell them that everything would be okay, my hEART. This entire scene broke me, the fear in their eyes and voice hurt so much to hear, my BABY HE'S BEEN THROUGH SO MUCH 💔

And just. This. Entire scene. I cannot tell you how fucking PERFECT of an ending this was. The fact that Tophat was the last thing GPS thought of before he died? The happiest moment they could think of was their high school prom dance, spending it with the person they love most? One final memory to end it all, and it was the most important one in their life. I've said this before but god. They're so in love. It's genuinely gutwrenching watching this scene; they're so happy yet this moment is so fleeting. Knowing how temporary it was and how everything ended makes it worse. Tophat moved on, maybe not fully but at least he's happier. GPS on the other hand? They're stuck reliving memories of people they can NEVER see again; people they hurt.

It's bittersweet as hell, and honestly kind of a perfect juxtaposition to the puzzle scene. Then, they relived bad memories, yet still seemed happy. Now, they're re-experiencing a moment that should fill them with joy, and yet...

Nothing lasts forever.

The ending song being a response to Imaginary Friend, too? Perfection. 💙

Thank you, Nightly Manor. Thank you, Allen. This series was fucking phenominal, and the wait was worth every second. My heart is in tatters but good lord I wouldn't have it any other way. Now it's time to redraw some scenes and try not to cry any harder than I already am! :,D 👍💙

#the nightly manor #the nightly manor spoilers #tophat tnm #gps tnm #sketchpad tnm #folder tnm #spraypaint tnm #codey tnm #binary tnm #rei rambles

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atinyniki · 1 year ago

Text

i ruined it...

group: stray kids !

pairing: idol!lee felix x f!reader

genre: angst with a happy ending, fluff if you squint

warnings + additional info: reader is referred to as y/n, almost breakup, y/n doesnt think felix loves her, felix is referred to as lix, felix neglects y/n bc of his job, felix misses their two year anniversary dinner, felix has trouble breathing in the scene, felix cries a lot, proposals, promise rings, insecurities, felix has been broken up with a lot bc of this, y/ns fav flowers are peonies, fighting

authors note: i cried. i dont even know why this came to mind??? but it did !!! so enjoy the angst :P this is also not proofread. english is not my first language, so please excuse any grammatical or spelling errors. happy reading :)

wc: 2232

“i’m sorry”

“sorry isn’t going to cut it anymore, felix. you’ve said it so much i don’t think you mean it anymore.”, you bite back harshly.

you’re normally understanding of felix’s job. it regularly requires him to stay overtime and keeps him very busy, but he’s missed too many of your activities.

he missed ice skating, your birthday, at least ten dates, but now he’s missed your anniversary. two years that you’ve been together, yet it’s like you don’t even see the boy anymore.

“what…?”

“it’s always ‘sorry’. if you were really sorry, maybe you would’ve skipped dinner with the boys. you could’ve come home… to me…”, your voice falters at the last two words, cracking with raw emotion.

it’s not fair to you anymore, nor is it to him. he can’t leave group activities or basically anything work related, even when it’s an emergency. if no one’s in danger, then there’s no chance he can leave.

“don’t you ever want to see me…?”

his face contorts into an expression of disgust. not with you, but with himself. his tears finally drip over his lashline, eyes red and burning. the tears are continuous now, completely unable to stop.

“i do… i do want to see you… i miss you so much, y/n.”

you scoff, “don’t lie to me, felix.”

he opens his mouth to say something back, but only a squeak comes out. “do you still love me…?”

“i love you to the ends of the earth… i promise.”

“then why don’t you ever show it? i don’t even know if i believe you anymore.”

he clamps a hand over his mouth, not out of surprise, but to suppress his sobs. he continues hiccupping, but clutches his mouth harder, not wanting to make too much noise.

he tilts his head down slightly so you won’t be able to see the painful look on his face. he tries to pull through, knowing that your pain must be much worse than this.

the sight breaks your heart.

“take your hand off your mouth. you won’t be able to breathe”

he complies, quickly wiping his tears and taking long breaths. “please- please believe m-me. i really do love you. i’m so sorry.”

he says it again, and you look into his eyes. you can see the pain in there, causing your heart to crack even more. you know he’s dealing with a lot right now, but so are you.

and now you need space. time to think about yourself, and time to think about if this relationship is really worth it anymore.

“i swear, i mean it, y/n.”

“you’re the one ruining this. this isn’t fair at all, felix. i love you, but i don’t think you love me the same way i love you. you’re not making an effort in anything. i don’t know if this is going to work anymore if it stays like this.”

silence.

“i need space.”

“i can give you that.”

“i don’t think this relationship is good for either one of us right now. ill come back when im ready.”

he nods in understanding, but his eyes are blown wide. the second you leave the room, he starts sobbing again.

no, not sobbing. wailing.

there’s nothing else he can do. this truly might be the end of what he hoped would be forever.

he hurt you. he hurt you and that hurts him. your pain is his pain, but he knows you have it worse. if anything, he deserves this pain. you’ve had to bear this pain for months.

it’s his fault, he knows it. everything’s falling apart because of him, like it always does. everything’s ruined. it will end like it always does.

just felix, alone.

someone else will come along, and he’ll break them too. it’s happened time and time again, and he’s finally given up.

it’s you he wants to spend the rest of his life with. it has to be you. no one else has made him feel this way, not once.

what’s worse is that you’re truly considering breaking up. ending it all because of another stupid thing felix did.

and for this, he will never forgive himself.

he’s still crying, just as loud as before, but now snuggled up into the couch. it smells like you, he realizes. maybe that’s why he’s getting so emotional.

he plays with the promise ring on his finger, crying even more now. maybe he won’t need it anymore after this.

you start packing, taking a good amount of clothes and stuffing them in your suitcase. you’ll have enough space for everything, you’re sure.

you grab one of your favorite sweaters from the closet, it has an adorable baby chick embroidered onto it. you stare at it again, but then put it back. it reminds you too much of him.

you make your way to the bathroom, placing your hand on the counter while you open the drawers to check for any jewelry, when you hear a clink.

you place your hand down on the marble again.

clink.

you look down at your ring finger, a singular tear leaving your eye. you remember when felix got down on one knee on your one year anniversary. it was too early for a proposal, so you freaked out, but he calmed you down and opened the box.

a promise ring. a simple band to symbolize eternity. an eternity you believed you’d spend with felix. you’re scared that eternity doesn’t exist anymore, as much as you want it to.

you don’t know if he cares. if he cares about what you have. if he cares about you.

you remove the band from your finger, shaky hands placing it down onto the counter. you observe the thin tan line it’s made, has it truly been that long?

when did everything change…?

you look for the box that felix gave it to you in. you’ve never taken it off since you got it.

you check in your jewelry drawer, but it’s not there. so you check in his.

there it is. a navy blue box with gold accents on the edges. you smile sadly, crying a little more when you truly think about your circumstances.

you grab the ring from the countertop and flip open the box.

your heart stops.

it’s supposed to be empty.

why isn’t it empty?

there’s a gorgeous gold band on the inside, small peonies engraved into it. your favorite flower, you realize. additionally, there’s a perfect heart shaped diamond sitting on top, almost taunting you.

the heart was meant to symbolize your love. the love you have for eachother. the love he has for you. but felix has never been able to show that properly, not while under his circumstances.

is this the surprise he mentioned the week before? is this why he told you to dress nicely to dinner? is this why he told you to do your nails all nice?

it had to be, right?

you close the box and hold it tightly in your hand, trying your best to suppress the tears that are trying desperately to escape.

but your heart controls you more than your mind.

its almost as if your heart actually has a mind of its own, bringing you to where you are now. standing in the living room, watching the sobs rack felix’s body, velvet box still in hand.

his body jerks with each hiccup, the noise completely muffled by his hand. it’s then you realize that it’s not muffled, he’s suffocating himself.

you place the box down onto the table, rushing over to felix. you grab his shoulder, pushing him over and sitting him upright. he jerks when you touch him, not expecting you to be anywhere near him.

once he truly processes the sight of you, he cries even more. you pry his hand off of his face again, you know it’s a bad habit.

“felix. you won’t be able to breathe when you do that.”

“im sorry. i didn’t w-want you to- to hear m-me”

“deep breaths.”

he inhales deeply, trying his best to follow your breathing patterns, but it fails every time, broken up into small hiccups. “i c-can’t.”

“calm down…”

you give him a small smile, almost to reassure him. he tries again, but it doesn’t work. he shuts his eyes, unable to take it all, and the tears just continue to spill.

“i- i can’t… i can’t breathe”

you rub circles onto his back, trying your best to do breathing exercises with him. you forget how truly sensitive he is.

“i’m right here…”

“you’re r-right here.”

“mhm… i’m right here, felix.”

“you’re right here… w-why are you here?”

you tilt your head in confusion, wiping a single cascading tear away from his cheek. “i’m here to take care of you.”

“you- i… i don’t deserve it…”

“what?”

“i don’t deserve you. you can- you can leave. i’m not forcing you to stay…”

your heart is now barely holding on, and it feels like only a single thread is holding it together.

“i’m here because i want to help you, lix.”

“you don’t- no- you don’t need to help me… it’s my fault.”

you open your mouth to speak, but he cuts you off.

“it’s my fault… i’m sorry.”

“felix…”

“you’ll leave…”

what’s going on with him?

“they all leave… n-not you too…”

“felix.”

“i don’t want you to leave… it’s all my fault.”

“felix, please, calm—“

“you’re going to leave…”

“i’m not going to leave.”

“i ruined it…”

it’s almost as if he’s stuck in the same state of mind, every part of the world being blocked out except for the terrible thoughts swirling around in there.

you cup his cheek with your hand, guiding his gaze towards you. one single look into your eyes, and he’s sobbing again.

you place your left hand on his knee, you know how much he loves to feel you, but he only seems to cry more.

he tentatively brings a hand up to the one splayed out in his knee, and you watch him out of curiosity. he giggles, and you look back up.

he’s crying even more now, you don’t even know how that’s possible. he picks up your hand by your ring finger, staring at the tan line that your promise ring created.

“i ruined it. how could i ever let you go…?”

he runs his thumb over it, and he quickly pulls your hand closer to his face. he places a soft kiss onto the line, just once, as to finally seal his fate.

it will never happen. he must accept it.

you don’t let go, instead intertwining your fingers. “i thought about it for a little. i really don’t want to leave you felix. i just… i didn’t know if you loved me anymore.”

“i do… i do love you.”

“i know that now.”

“you don’t know the full extent to which i do, y/n. i don’t just love you for what you have to offer. i love you for you. i love you for your smile, and i love you for waking up everyday. i love you for working hard, and i love you for your heart. i love you for things i can’t even see, and i love every part that makes you you. i love y/n. i love you. and i love you for being you.”

it feels as if the tears in your heart have finally been stitched up. every crack in your heart healed with his pure words. you know they came from the heart too.

“i can’t guarantee i’ll be there for every event, and im sorry for that. ive tried to change that, but the rules are strict. even then, i wont give up. i’ll try my best to change them, i want to be the best boyfriend i can be. i dont want to rush dates because im running out of time, but instead because i cant wait to get home and finally cuddle with you without being in the public eye. i dont want to be late to any events just so that i can see that beautiful smile on your face when you see me there. i just want to make you happy, happier than you��ve been recently.”

“oh felix…”

he doesn’t say anything else, placing your hand back down on his knee and retracting his hand. that’s when his gaze flies to the table in front of him, the dark blue velvet box staring right at him.

he stands up, grabs it, and then kneels back down, on not one, but both knees. it looks almost as if he’s begging, but what you don’t realize, is that he truly is. he’s begging for your forgiveness, and he’s begging for another chance.

he has to make things right.

“y/n… i know i haven’t been the best boyfriend recently, not at all, but i want to make things right. you’ve brought so much light into my world, and i want to bring you that light too. i just need you to give me one last chance. one chance to make it right. i know it’s not the perfect proposal, but please, make me the happiest man in the world.”

he flicks open the box, displaying the band you last observed in the bathroom.

“i love you.”

“that’s not a yes or a no.”

“yes, i love you.”, you repeat.

you can’t control your heart anymore, and you take the chance to push felix down to kiss him. you know it’s not the ideal proposal, nor is it the ideal post-proposal kiss, but your answer would always be yes.

“it’s you, felix. it’s always been you.”

“y/n.”

“hm?”

“i promise, i’ll never let you go again.”

#atinyniki #skz #skz x reader #stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #lee felix #felix x reader #lee felix angst #lee felix fluff #felix fluff #felix angst #lee felix x reader #lee felix x y/n

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xetlynn · 4 months ago

Text

an artists muse- a viktor fanfic.

six.

[five] [six] [seven]

empty tomorrow of its sorrows.

Plopping down in a swivel chair after getting ready for the day you scroll on Instagram. Humming a quiet tune as you check your own following on your art account. It has been a while since you stalked yourself, you wanted to see if there were any new accounts that had followed you since the last time you scanned through it.

The first person on the top of that little list wasn’t who you were expecting. Smiling you clicked on his account. Viktor.

You go through his stuff like you hadn’t done it a million times before after meeting him. You were actually about to go meet him at the cafe.

Seeing him on Saturday shocked you, you didn’t think it was his scene. It really wasn’t but his friends kept him company. You would’ve too if you weren’t running around, helping your friends and making sure they weren’t getting too drunk. You tried to speak with Viktor whenever you had the chance though.

Now going through his following you see a familiar name that makes your heart drop to your stomach. A mutual with the art account, m.herald2077. Viktor knows him?

M.herald2077 didn’t block you on your art account? Wait.

That’s right, he got logged out of this account. You were on the phone with him when it happened. He couldn’t remember the password and when he blocked you on everything you couldn’t get yourself to unfollow this stupid account that wasn’t being controlled by anyone anymore.

“Is he Ma?” You whispered, standing up from your spot and beginning to panic. They have similar accents. They could be related?

No, his highlight is labeled Ma. That’s what you called him. They have to be the same person. A lump builds in your throat. You couldn’t deny it even if you wanted to. They were the same person.

Tears stream down your cheeks as your chest heaves. You grip at the skin, practically clawing at it. The memories flooding in your head.

“Why would you say that?” His voice breaks and you wrack out a sob. “Ma, I swear! It wasn’t me, I promise! My friend- ugh she took my phone while I was in the bathroom, I’m just now seeing these messages!” You cry out, pleading with your friend to trust you. “How would she know such… private details I told you?” He asks, holding back his own tears, rereading the words on his screen that had come from your account.

“I had vented to her, I was upset for you and I just. I thought I could trust her! It’s so not right what I did. I’m sorry! But I swear, I would never think those things!” You stammer, the other line goes quiet. “I don't think I can’t trust you anymore… I’m sorry but wow. I- I gotta go. Live a nice life.” And before you could say anything the phone hung up.

Leaving you to wail, crying into a pillow as you had just lost one of the closest friends you’ve ever had.

“Sh-shit.” You squeeze your eyes shut, the liquid from your eyes dripping right down the flesh of your face. You open your phone back up, going to the old account. You knew he’d never see it. You typed out a long, long paragraph. Apologizing, explaining what you never got to over that phone call. Rubbing your lips together, the screen gets blurry at moments when your tears built up, forcing you to blink them away.

You read it over numerous times before your shaky finger presses send. You close out of it. Staring at the time.

Now you have to go see Viktor after this discovery. Your heart tightening. You felt like throwing up. How could you look him in the face and not tell him you hurt him the way you did years ago.

You didn’t know what to do. You could cancel on him. Avoid the cafe for the rest of your life. Switch your chem class. Never see him, protect him from you. He’d never know.

No. You couldn’t do that. He doesn’t deserve you to treat him horribly twice in his life. Maybe this can be a redo. He’ll never know it was you. And after this semester if you don’t end up having classes with one another again you can go your separate ways and never speak.

Not hurting either person.

Hopefully.

You grab your backpack, slipping it over your shoulders. You wiped the wetness off of your face. Sniffling to try and hide the evidence of crying.

Viktor takes a sip of his hot, roasted black coffee. Tapping the table as he focused his attention on his laptop screen. Looking over the rules of the Chemistry project he and [Name] had to do together. Figuring out a set plan for the two.

Beside his device was an iced coffee, the cup covered in condensation. With that there’s a cherry danish sitting there. He had also grabbed multiple creamers and sugars that you could put in the cup yourself since he had seen you do it a few times.

Every time the little bell rings from the front of the cafe his eyes would flicker over. Hoping that it was you even though you said you weren’t going to be there until 7:15. The same time every day. He checked the time, it was 7:14.

And there you are right as it hits 15. You were rushing inside, wearing a baseball cap that covered your eyes.

You make a b-line straight for Viktor’s normal spot, climbing into the booth. “Goodmorning!” You beamed, averting eye contact as you pulled out a notebook.

“Goodmorning,” One brow is raised as he observes you, you wouldn’t lift your head up as you immediately start to jot things down on the paper. “You seem… in a rush?” He inquires, sliding the iced coffee over along with the cherry danish. “Weren’t even going to order anything today?” Your movements freeze in place as your orbs land on them.

You weren’t going to get yourself anything. On your way over you kept telling yourself you didn’t deserve to treat yourself like you normally do. You ogle at the nourishment in front of you. Tears build at the sight. Viktor watches how your face seems solemn. Your mouth stuck shut but your chin was quivering. A single tear falling down your left cheek.

You were quick to wipe it away. Replacing your sad expression with a forced happy one. “Thank you so much!” You give him a close-eyed smile. “I’ll have to pay you back when I can!” You let out a raspy laugh, taking a bite of the cherry goodness. Since you lifted your head, he could see how puffy your eyes were. They were also red and a bit irritated signifying that you had been crying recently.

“Why would you pay me back?” He cocks his head to the side, his eyebrows knitted together. He was worried to say the least. “I um,” you swallowed the lump in your throat. “Because you didn’t have to do this! I’d feel bad not paying you for this!” You tell him, avoiding his gaze once again.

“[Name], it’s what friends do. I don’t want your money. Plus you got me that coconut puff the other day. Should I pay you back for that?” His hand goes over to yours that was laid on the table. You shoot your head up. “No! I wouldn’t take your money even if you forced it into my hand!” You tell him with an angry expression and he chuckles.

“Exactly. See. You’re not giving me anything for this either.” He pats the top of your hand before going back to his laptop. You stare at him for a few moments. Thinking about how you didn’t deserve this.

You didn’t deserve an ounce of kindness from Viktor.

You picked up the danish, slowly eating it. It would be rude if you wasted it.

You notice the sugar packets and the little creamers alongside the iced coffee. You smile down at it. How’d he know? You open the lid of the drink, ripping open the first packet. Viktor peeked over to you. He pondered on what was wrong. Wondering if he should ask or not. But at the same time you clearly did not want to talk about it. You seemed like the type that if you wanted to you would’ve already done it.

“So, you know our project? For Chem?” He speaks up, mentally cursing at himself because that’s what he chose to say? “Oh, yeah! What about it?” You close the lid of your coffee, taking a drink of it.

“Well, I was thinking we should get that started. Maybe this weekend?” He offers, your gaze hardens a little bit before you smile.

Viktor takes note of every movement you make. How your demeanor is frequently changing. Like your mind is fighting with itself. “Sounds good! If we go to my place I’ll tell my roommate to not bother us for a few hours!” You snicker, knowing you literally will shut Powder out and tell her to go somewhere with herself for the day.

“We could go to mine, I don’t have a roommate.” He shrugs his shoulders, wanting to make it simple for the both of you. “Oh that’s even better!” You gleam and he smiles. “Let’s do it on Saturday then, maybe around 1?”

“Perfect.” You nod your head.

You get a text from Viktor as you’re heading off campus, it was 2 pm and you had just finished your last class of the day. You look at your screen for a moment before opening the message.

—------------------------------------------------

vik.tor_e- meet me outside science building in ten minutes?

love.[name]3- ok, im like two minutes from it

vik.tor_e- i’ll be here

love.[name]3- why’d you say in ten minutes then!? Lol

vik.tor_e- wanted to give you time >:(

love.[name]3- so silly :P

—-------------------------------------------------

You laugh at the boy, shaking your head as you redirect yourself to start heading to the science building. Picking up your pace now that you know he’s already there. You wondered what he could want to talk about.

The anxiety in the back of your mind was telling you that he had found out. That he wanted to go to your professor and change partners.

You push the thoughts away once your eyes land on him, he was sitting on the bench right outside the doors. He notices you at the same time, both of you giving each other little waves.

He stands himself up and you go over to him with a slight nervous expression. “What’s up?” You smile. “I have a list of things to get for the project. I was working on it this morning.” He hands you a paper with a printed list. You stare down at it. Thinking about where to get the stuff.

“Okay! I’ll get it all before Saturday then.” You sternly say with a positive attitude. “Well, half of it, I’m getting. I put your name by the things you need to get.” He leans in your side, showing you on the paper what he’s talking about.

You take in his scent, half paying attention to him. Feeling his warmth on your arm. You felt like a creep as you snapped out of it when he backed away. What the heck was that?

He goes to say something but a person nudges into you, stopping the both of you from talking to one another. “Heyy, [Name]. Who’s this!?”

Maddie.

Your jaw tightens, you look down to her. “This is my friend.” You respond, not telling her his name. She squints her eyes over to the boy as he awkwardly stands there. “You look familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?” She asks him, your breathing hitches. How would Maddie know Viktor?

“Uh, I don’t think so.” He disagrees and she hums. “I know you, I swear.” She argues. She stares for a moment before shrugging her shoulders. “Oh well, I’ll figure it out.” She giggles. “I just wanted to say hi to [Name]. Bye now!” She gives you a quick, one-sided hug before scurrying off.

Your face deadpans as you watch her go away. You then look back to Viktor. “Sorry about that.” You force out a dry laugh, clearly not that amused. He can tell you had a distaste for the girl but doesn’t question it. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it. Catch you tomorrow at the cafe?” He asks.

“Of course!” You grin, the two of you now going separate ways.

Once you get to your dorm you sit on your bed, relaxing into it before you get this weird sudden urge to want to paint. Randomly motivated to do this image you have in your head.

You dig underneath your loft bed, pulling out a large canvas along with a bunch of brushes and paint.

taglist: if you want to be added lmk! @policedeer @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @confusedgemposts @ang3lz-lov3 @almostdrowningdown @corpsepies @obittwo @bakusquadobsessed @ren-ni

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ameliathornromance · 10 months ago

Text

A big sigh escaped the Orc as he swept his gaze around his flat. The moon light from behind him streamed in, casting his large, hulking shadow into the hallway.

He expected an excited, sing-songy voice to welcome him home, to tell him that foods on the table and ready to eat.

The Orc flinched at the silence. He shook his head, sighing and shutting the door behind him. Why did he expect it?

It had been like this for 3 weeks.

He was confused, stunned when you told him that you thought things weren’t working. He’d begged you for a second chance, another opportunity to prove that he could do better, be better… but the look on your face, your placid expression made it clear to him:

You were done.

He endlessly searched his mind, desperate to find something that he had done wrong - had he accidentally flirted with someone? Had he said something? Done something, anything?

Turning on the front room lights and opening the freezer, the Orc sighed. Normally, the fridge would have been filled with fresh vegetables, meat and sauces, all of which you would use to cook the most delicious gourmet meals known to man.

Well, they were gourmet to your ex-Orc Boyfriend.

He smiled, sadly, remembering the dishes you made with fondness.

There was nothing better than coming home, to one of your exquisitely prepared meals after a tiring and hard day at work.

Inside the fridge now, was nothing but a microwave meal. Popping the thin plastic film, your voice scolded him for having such a poor choice for a meal.

“At least boil some rice or something!” He heard your voice in his mind.

The microwave whirred, his processed meal turning slowly.

While that was… ‘cooking’, the Orc turned to his front room and turned on the TV. He mindlessly scrolled through the channels, reality TV shows, informational and geographical programs flicked past him.

You liked watching cooking programs, that’s where you got most of your food ideas from.

He groaned as the microwave beeped at him, harsh and unfriendly. Nothing like you.

After plating, he sat in the sofa and settled on a telenovela.

The female protagonist, a gorgeous Elf woman swung her long blonde curls, pointing at the male love interest, “How can you ignore me, Ronaldo?!” She declared, tears streaming down her cheeks, mascara trailing after them. “I work tirelessly for you! Do everything! Why can’t you just show some appreciation for once?! Take me out to dinner or something?”

The Orc froze, watching the scene unfold, the Elf woman wailing as her love interest protested: “What are you talking about?! I do all the heavy lifting! I go out and earn my keep, so you can live easily, why don't you appreciate that?!”

His heart in his throat, your ex seized the remote beside him and fumbled, desperate to turn off the TV. Once the screen had blackened, the Orc sat in silence, microwave meal untouched in his lap.

And that’s when he realised… it was him. You did work hard, you stayed at home at his request and did all the house work. When you made an attempt to cuddle or to go on a date with him, he was always too tired from work to do any of that.

The faces of disappointment and sadness as you had tried to get him to show any kind of love for you… And he’d just dismissed it. Ignored how you felt in favour of himself.

He looked down at his dinner for one, vision blurring.

Big, salty tears ran down his cheeks as he realised what he had lost.

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#monster lover #orc fiction #monster romance #monster x female #orc boyfriend #orc x reader #monster x human #monster x you #orc romance #monster x reader #orc x reader angst #angst #I’m doing angst now #I need to write more variety

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flemingsfreckles · 8 months ago

Text

I’ll Look After You

Synopsis: you and Jessie are still adjusting to life with a baby, Jessie notices that you’ve been struggling more and more recently, until you break.

Warnings: mentions of postpartum depression and anxiety, language

WC: 2.7k

A/N: hi, I haven’t posted in a while, just sort of been struggling, work has kicked my ass, and my motivation has just drained a bit but I’m trying to get back into it.

The first noise Jessie hears after the jingling of her keys in the sound of crying. It’s not an uncommon noise in your household, it’s an everyday, every couple of hours occurrence. But what she notices is the crying isn’t just that of your five month old daughter. She can also tell there’s the sound of an adult crying.

She quickly places the diapers and bag of baby clothes she had purchased on the counter and makes her way to your daughter's room.

She walks into the nursery to a scene that breaks her heart. You’re sitting in the rocking chair, your daughter resting in your lap. You’re both crying, your daughter wailing while you’re sniffling, shoulders shaking while you still try to console the baby in your lap. You looked exhausted.

“Oh my love.” Jessie says rushing to your side. “Let me take her.”

“No!” You snap at Jessie. “She won’t eat, but she’s hungry, that’s her hungry cry. She won’t latch, I can’t help her, but she needs to eat so she needs me.”

Jessie kneels in front of you. Her hands reach out to take your daughter. Already feeling panicked from the hours of crying you’ve sat through and the feeling of failure as a parent, you push Jessie’s hands away. You had been dealing with postpartum anxiety, you knew it and Jessie knew it.

It had started with just not letting your daughter out of your sight. She came with you everywhere, the kitchen, the bathroom, the bedroom, she was always just a few steps away, in every moment you had your eyes on her. Even as she slept you watched her though the baby monitor, hardly ever getting rest yourself. That lasted a for the first few months and then it only became worse.

Then you started having nightmares of terrible things happening to her. That’s when you started not letting her out of your grasp. You no longer brought her out to Jessie’s games. You didn’t let family or friends hold her, everything was a threat to her. You held her constantly, feeling as if any place besides your arms was dangerous to her little life.

This even meant Jessie’s arms. You knew deep down Jessie was safe, she was even more cautious than you were with her, but your anxiety refused to let up when it came to your wife. Any time the baby awoke in the middle of the night, you were up too. Despite Jessie’s insisting you stay in bed, being the first one out of bed to get your daughter, as she’d get up, you’d follow her. You watched Jessie like a hawk when she held your daughter, terrified something would happen. It was all crazy, Jessie was the best partner and parent you could’ve ever imagined but your postpartum brain remained in panic at all times.

“What if she just never eats? She’ll starve, it’ll be all my fault. I just want to help her.” You managed to choke out between cried. Jessie could see the dark circles under you eyes, she knew you hadn’t slept that night and now it was early morning, the exhaustion beginning to take its toll.

“She’s not going to starve babe.” Jessie tried her best to console you. She didn’t know what to do, she felt helpless so many times seeing you stress and worry about your daughter, knowing she could only ease your mind so much.

“She might Jessie! She won’t latch! I can’t fucking feed her. I’m a terrible mom, I can’t even feed her.” You move through anger, yelling at Jessie and your fist hitting the armrest of the rocking chair, to feelings of sadness in an instant, tears falling again.

“You’re not a terrible mom.”

“I can’t protect her. She’s always crying, I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I can’t keep her safe.”

“You can keep her safe, you do keep her safe. She cries because she’s a baby, she can’t talk to us, her crying is not an indication of you as a parent.” Jessie’s hands gently caress your shins, trying to help you relax. “Now, can I please hold her?” Jessie brings her arms out again. She knew she had to be patient with you but she also knew you had hit your breaking point. Your lack of sleep, your mood swings, your frustrations, all worried her.

She knew you had been up all night with her. It had taken the two of you a while to get her to fall asleep, and just a short hour later she was up screaming again. You changed her and put her back down, before returning to bed. She had started crying at midnight and you had gone into the nursery, telling Jessie you’d wake her for the next time she cried. Except you hadn’t. You never came back to bed after that wake up. Jessie had heard the crying on her own and made her way into the nursery at 2am. You had sent her back to bed saying you had it covered. Jessie listened, knowing it was smarter and safer to have one rested parent, she also wasn’t interested in making you upset.

Then when Jessie woke up again and noticed you were not next to her, she came to find you. At 4am she found you asleep on the floor next to the crib. She had placed a blanket over you and let you sleep while she made herself coffee. The baby had woken up again at 4:30 and you had been up with her since. Jessie had run to the store to get some necessities, hoping when she got back the two of you would be sleeping again. You had now been awake all night, with only a combined hour of sleep worth of naps to hold you over. Jessie knew she had to take your daughter away from you, you needed sleep. She wanted you safe and she wanted your daughter safe.

You just stare back at Jessie. This was your wife, you trusted her with every bit of yourself, your fears, your accomplishments, you trusted her with your body, with your heart, but for some reason you were terrified to hand her your daughter, the baby she had a hand in making, the baby that was half her, you couldn’t hand her over.

“Babe.” Jessie’s tone was no longer asking politely. “For her safety and more importantly, for your safety, I need you to let me hold her for a bit, you need a break.” Her arms extend once again. She had realized this was getting out of hand, not only did she need to take your daughter in this moment, it was probably time to seek professional help. Jessie made a note to bring that up later with you.

“I don’t need a break, I don’t get a break, I'm her mom!”

“I’m her mom too!” Jessie getting more and more concerned about your own safety starts to snap at you.

Jessie was right, she was her mom too. You look down at your daughter, who is still whimpering. You look at her small face, her little nose, the way her eyes were scrunched and her mouth open crying. It had you tearing up again, seeing how upset she was with no relief thanks to you.

“I couldn’t help her, I changed her, she’s warm enough, she’s burped, I checked her over a hundred times, there's no scrapes or rashes, nothing should bother her. She just is hungry but won’t eat.” That’s when you start feeling your heartbeat in your chest, the whoosh of blood through your ears. You can feel your chest heaving as you try breathing in air.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Jessie’s hands come off your shins and onto your face.

“You’re okay. She’s okay, look at her she’s okay. You’re both okay. I’m going to take her just for a moment, I’ll stay here by you so you can watch. But I’m just going to hold her for a bit.” Jessie drops her hands from your face and gently scoops up your daughter, bringing her to rest on her chest. Your daughter’s head rests on Jessie’s shoulder. Jessie stands up and bounces her lightly, hand running down your daughter’s back trying to soothe the crying.

Jessie extends her other hand out toward you. “Come here, let’s go lay in our bed.”

You look up at Jessie and nod, taking her hand before dropping it. “Two hands on her.” You say, already worrying somehow your daughter will slip from Jessie’s strong grip.

“Okay, two hands.” Jessie shoots you a smile before placing her other hand onto your daughter's back. She follows you out of the nursery across the house and into your bedroom. You watch Jessie as she carefully places her into the bassinet next to the bed.

“There’s nothing in there right? No toys, no blanket, no pillows? Did you check that there isn’t a spider or anything?” It was your paranoia coming back, but you had to ask.

“No babe, just her. There’s nothing that’s going to hurt her in there.” Jessie says looking between you and the bassinet. “She’ll be okay, I’m going to pick her up again in a moment. Let’s get you changed first.”

Jessie took another glance at the bassinet before coming over to where you stood at the end of the bed. She lets her hands rest on your shoulders. “Would you like a shower?” You shake your head, you did but you didn’t have the energy. “New clothes at least? Brush your teeth? Wash your face? What can I help with?”

“I dunno.” You feel on the verge of even more tears, you’d think by now you’d be completely dry. You feel your lip start to tremble again and you bite it trying to hold back the sob ready to fall out.

“Okay, sorry, I gave you too many options. Let’s just get you changed.” Jessie says her hand gently falling to your shirt. “Can I take this one off?” You nod and lift your arms, Jessie gently pulling the shirt over your head. You stand there shirtless as Jessie walks across the room to her own dresser, pulling out one of her old shirts that you frequently stole and would wear to bed. On your way back to where you stood your daughter lets out a cry. You watch as Jessie quickly moves to grab a clean pacifier, placing it into her mouth before coming back over to you.

“Arms up pretty girl.” You do as she asks and she pulls the shirt down over your head. Her hands drop to the shorts you have on. “These off?”

“Ehh she didn’t puke on them, they can stay.” You say. And Jessie’s hands move off of them.

“Okay, in bed.” Jessie walks over flipping back the cover to your side and waiting for you to get in. You climb in and she gently pulls up the covers before walking around to the other side of the bed. She picks up your daughter from the bassinet before she climbs into bed next to you. “Come here.” She pats her side and encourages you to curl into her.

You watch as she holds your daughter, you watch carefully, making sure your daughter's head is supported, her back is in a good position, you watch Jessie, who’s looking between you and your daughter.

“Close your eyes, I’ve got her, she’s okay, if she cries you’ll hear her and wake up.” You lay there for a moment, Jessie was right, she was right next to you, if she cried you’d hear. You’d be able to get up and help in a second's notice. You take one last look at Jessie and your daughter before closing your eyes.

You’re not sure how much time passes when you finally wake up to the sound of your wife talking to your daughter. “Here ya go. This’ll make you feel better.” You blink a few times and see Jessie with your daughter, a bottle in her hand being held up to her mouth.

Your eyebrows squint as you try to take in the image of your daughter eating from a bottle. That was different, it was rare that she ate from a bottle especially when you were home with her, you’d wake up and feed her, there was no need for her to feed from the bottle. It made you upset that Jessie hadn’t woken you, maybe she didn’t trust you to feed her since you had failed earlier. Maybe she thought you were a bad mother.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” You feel Jessie jump, not having realized you were awake and being startled by your voice. “I don’t want her to have formula yet, we talked about it this.” You had been strong in your decision to feed her, Jessie knew that. Bottle feeding her was one thing, but you hadn’t pumped, there wasn’t milk for the bottle, Jessie had to be giving her formula. “You should’ve woken me up, I would’ve fed her.”

You move to sit up, starting to pull your shirt up and reaching for your daughter at the same time. Jessie’s hand gently releases the bottle for a moment before her hand comes down onto yours.

“You are feeding her. It’s not formula, it’s your milk from the freezer. You’re still feeding her.” Jessie says looking at you, her hand returning to hold the bottle to your daughter’s mouth.

“Oh.” You feel stupid, you had frozen milk. Frozen milk you had pumped and saved back when your daughter was first born. She didn’t yet eat enough to use it all, so you had saved it. As she grew she drank more and more and you stopped freezing it. You had completely forgotten. You had forgotten, Jessie hadn’t.

“Go back to sleep love, I’ve got her, well, actually you’ve got her, you’re the one feeding her, I’m just holding the bottle.” Jessie smiles down at you, bringing a hand to run her fingers through your hair. “Close your eyes.”

You feel a sudden rush of emotions again, feeling overwhelmed by the kindness of your wife, who you had been cold to since the anxiety started. “I’m sorry.” You can feel your chest tightening and your vision becomes blurry with tears.

“For what?” Jessie looks down questioning what you could possibly be apologizing for.

“Just everything, I’ve been so mean, and I just, I worry and I can’t let her go, if something happened to her, I don’t think I’d survive. I’m so scared for her, she’s helpless, and I’m her mom so that’s my job and I think sometimes I forget you’re her mom too, and I don’t want to burden you with the responsibility, and I just, I’m not being fair to you.”

“You’re also not being fair to yourself. You’re tired, you’re overwhelmed, I don’t like seeing you like this.

“I know I just can’t help it.” You blinked hard and the tears began to run down your cheeks, Jessie’s finger gently wiping them away.

“I know, it’s not your fault. We’ll talk about this later, just get some sleep honey.”

“Okay.” You sniffle, trying to slow down the crying. “I’m sorry, I love you, you’re a really good mom.”

“Shhhh.” Jessie lets her fingers run through your hair again, trying to soothe you back to sleep. She doesn’t need to hear you apologize for something that was beyond your control, she knew it was all hormones, your brain playing tricks on you. She knows she’s a good mom, she knows you’re a good mom, she doesn’t need your reassurance but it is nice to hear. “I love you. I’ll look after you and her. I’ve got you. Just close your eyes.”

You do, quickly falling asleep with the feeling of Jessie’s fingers in your hair and the sound of her whispering softly to your daughter about the first time you and she met, one of Jessie’s favorite stories to tell. The anxiety and stress wasn’t gone, but for once, with her by your side, it suddenly wasn’t all consuming.

#jessie fleming #jflem #jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming imagine #woso imagine #woso x reader #jessie fleming blurb #canwnt x reader

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