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bweeeb · 7 months ago

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TENNIS CLASSES

Art Donaldson x Reader

Notes: Age difference (Art is 29/31 and Y/n is 19), Dirty content, Smut, P in v and whatever...

Notes: This writing was very messy and I apologize for that.

Summary: When Tashi convinces Art to continue in the tennis business, he agrees to teach Y/n Adams, but he didn't know that the 19-year-old girl would be such a problem for him.

Art Donaldson thought the house he lived in was fancy, but when he arrived at the Adams' residence, he almost thought he'd stopped at the wrong place. The house was surreal. As he stepped out of the car, looking for the entrance, the front door was opened by Y/n, wearing an extremely short white skirt and a Nike sweatshirt in the same shade.

To Y/n, the skirt looked normal, but it was definitely the first thing Art noticed about the new student. — Hey, sorry for the visual confusion this place is. My mom loves trees around the house. Not that she likes dealing with dirt, because she hates it, but you get me. — Y/n said while descending the stairs with a gentle smile for the man, who smiled back.

— Nice to meet you, Art. I'm Y/n.

— Hi, sure, I'm happy to be here. — He said, grabbing the hand she had extended as a greeting. Art didn't know how many times he repeated in his head how soft her hand was.

— My parents are out for a while, but if they were here, they'd show you around. Since they're not, you've got me, so... I can show you the court out back if you want.

— The house is pretty cool. I'm curious to see the back. — Art said, looking at Y/n who was ahead of him, and it was almost inevitable for him not to check her out entirely when she turned to walk.

— So, how much tennis do you know? — He asked as Y/n stopped and opened the door leading them to the back of the house.

— Not much. My dad likes to play, so I learned a thing or two, but you know how it is.

— If he knows, why doesn't he teach you?

— Well, he wants me to learn from the best. — She said, glancing sideways at Art who chuckled as they passed by the pool and walked towards the tennis court.

— I think that's flattery. — He said and Y/n laughed.

— No, come on, I saw your last match, it was insanely good.

— Well, I... thank you. — Art nodded, a brief memory of Patrick's gesture before serving the ball flashing in his mind. He and Tashi had fought many times after that match, and even though he loved tennis, he didn't want to compete anymore. That irritated Tashi, so as a solution, she convinced Donaldson to at least continue practicing what he loved most, and she convinced him by arranging private lessons for Y/n Adams.

— So, where do we start? — Y/n asked, snapping Art out of his thoughts.

— Let's start by watching you play, then I can try to help you with any mistakes. — He said, and Y/n complied, grabbing her racket, taking off her sweatshirt and cap, and most importantly, capturing Art Donaldson's attention when her serve was practically perfect.

— Lower your elbow a bit and aim lower. — Art said, unfolding his arms and moving closer to the girl.

— Here. — He said softly, standing behind her.

— Position your feet better. — Art placed one hand on Y/n's waist and the other on her right arm.

— This way, you'll hit it perfectly. But you did well. — The blonde said, and Y/n looked up at him behind her and smiled in agreement.

— Alright, coach. — She would be a big problem for Art.

A month had passed since Art and Y/n started training together, and it was almost undeniable to Art that he noticed Y/n flirting with him naturally and spontaneously. Art reciprocated without any guilt. Tashi had no position to be mad about it, she had ruined their marriage before.

— I think that's it for today. You're good, Y/n. You impressed me a lot. — Art complimented Y/n, who was too distracted looking at him. Art was wearing a black Adidas T-shirt, black shorts, and a white cap worn backward, and Y/n had lost count of how many times she'd lost her breath looking at him.

— What? Sorry, what? — Y/n asked while laughing awkwardly. Art, on the other hand, smiled and bit his lower lip as he leaned against the fence behind him.

— Something distracting you? — He asked, and Y/n smiled at him, rolling her eyes and leaving the court with his eyes fixed on her and the tiny red skirt she was wearing.

— Are you going to stay there or can I leave you on the court? — Y/n shouted, and Art grabbed his tennis bag and ran after the younger girl, who slowed her pace for Donaldson to walk beside her. The sun was setting, and as they entered the house, Mr. and Mrs. Adams were coming down the stairs.

— All done? — Y/n's mother asked, looking in the mirror and smiling at the two of them.

— Art, how's my player doing? — Mr. Adams said, giving Art two pats on the back.

— She's been playing well, much better than many of my friends who played at Stanford. — Art said, and Y/n smiled, taking off her shoes on the sofa near the entrance.

— Be careful, because this girl is not modest at all, my friend. — Y/n's father said, and the girl opened her mouth in shock.

— I am modest!

— Yes, you are. — Her mother agreed with Y/n, giving her a kiss on the head, and she smiled, picking up her shoes from the floor.

— Art, it was great to see you, but now we're leaving, dear, or we'll be late. Bye, guys. — The two left the house, leaving Art and Y/n at the entrance, looking at the door.

— So... I think I should go...

— Do you want something to drink? Water, coffee, wine, beer? — Y/n turned quickly to look at Art, who laughed and adjusted his cap on his head.

— I don't want to intrude; you probably have more things to do...

— I don't, actually. I was going to the pool, you know? It helps relax the muscles after playing. — Y/n said, approaching the man.

— If you want to join me. — She offered, stepping up a stair and leaning on the railing, looking at him with puppy eyes.

— Uhm, I don't know if it's a good idea, it's late and you know... — Art cleared his throat and squinted, thinking of the right words — I don't know, you know, there's Tashi and...

— Shit. Shit, you're married, and I forgot about that. Right, don't worry, you... Y/n closed her eyes momentarily, remembering the existence of his family.

— But I think she wouldn't mind, it's just tennis, right? Art said, taking a step towards the stairs, and when Y/n opened her eyes, he was already closer than she imagined he would be.

— If you don't want to stay, it's okay... I just...

— It's important to relax after a game, and you need to learn that. I'm your coach, and I can help you, Y/n. — Art said, touching the girl's forearm, who smiled and nodded.

— Okay then, I can get my brother's swim shorts if you want. — She suggested, and the man agreed without thinking much, he just wanted to follow her and not be alone down there.

The two went upstairs while Art followed Y/n like a puppy. It was almost humiliating for him because if she asked, he would do anything she wanted. Y/n grabbed a pair of swim shorts for Art and went to her room.

— I'll change quickly, but you can stay here; I'll be right back. — Y/n said, and Art agreed, sitting on the edge of her bed and watching her enter the closet without doors. Y/n made a move inside, and her figure's reflection appeared in the mirror in front of the bed. Y/n took off her tennis clothes, that skirt Art wanted to take off so badly, and her underwear, and at that moment, Art shifted on the bed, feeling his cock getting hard.

— You can change there if you want, you can't see anything from here. — She shouted, and Art got up from the bed without taking his eyes off her.

— From here, you can see a lot. — He murmured while taking off his shorts, trying to adjust his length that wanted to jump out of his underwear.

— Damn. — Donaldson put on the black shorts and heard the girl again.

— So, you went to Stanford, right? — She didn't want to make the atmosphere awkward.

— Yeah, I did, and you? Are you in college? — He asked.

— I'm studying at Columbia. You know.

The brief conversation was the right amount of time for Y/n to come out of the closet wearing a black strapless bikini on top, and there was Art again, almost falling to the ground with the weight his cock was becoming.

— That's... that's cool, yeah.

He said, following her downstairs again, ignoring the fact that he shouldn't notice how her ass bounced with every step she took ahead of him.

Both walked to the pool, chatting about college and life until they entered the pool and kept staring at each other.

— So... feeling better? — Art asked as he approached the girl, who smiled at him.

— I don't know; my coach should teach me how to relax. — She said, and Art laughed. He murmured a small "okay" and brought his hands to her waist, pulling her further from the pool's edges.

— Is your wife okay with this? You touching another woman? — Y/n asked provocatively, and with a harsh movement, Art pulled her close to his body, making her feel his hard erection against her ass.

— She cheats on me with my best friend; she doesn't care at all.

— Damn, sorry, but she's really dumb. When the words left Y/n's mouth, Art laughed genuinely and brought one hand to her neck.

— Relax... — He said as his hand traveled down her body, passing over her breasts, her belly, and stopping at the waistband of her bikini bottom. When Y/n started grinding against his hard cock, Art lowered his hand and touched her sensitive spot.

— Damn, you're so wet. — Art said, moving his fingers inside her while bringing his other hand to her already bare chest. In a desperate move, Y/n turned her body and wrapped her legs around Art's waist, kissing him hard. Art's erection brushed against the girl's clit, and suddenly both were naked in the pool.

— Fuck me, please. — Y/n moaned against Art's mouth, who squeezed her ass hard. He and Tashi hadn't had physical contact in a long time, he could say he wasn't attracted to Tashi at all anymore, not after this.

— Damn, you're so hot. — Art said, attacking her neck and positioning himself at her entrance.

— Art, please. — As she begged, Art slid inside her and looked into Y/n's eyes for confirmation that everything was okay. When he received that confirmation, both of Art's hands fell on her ass, lifting her up and down on his cock. With not-so-fast thrusts, Art then picked up her body and turned her towards the pool's edge, making her bend over.

— Fuck, Art. — She moaned, and Art increased the speed inside her.

— Are you going to cum, baby? Uhm. Art asked as he moaned and continued thrusting deep into Y/n.— Are you going to cum for me? I'm going to cum too.

— Yeah? Cum in me Art, please.

— I'm going to cum inside that tight pussy, damn, so good, I've wanted to do this for so long. Art said and with a few more sloppy thrusts they both came.

— Cum. Y/n moaned and her body fell against Art's chest, who hugged her right after they both reached their peak. —That was good. — She whispered and he nodded in agreement behind her. The comfortable silence between the two ended when the front door slammed, both of their eyes widened.

Art thought about getting out of the pool but Y/n refused. Head quickly. They would see art naked if he decided to stand up. — Get down, below me. Get down. She said and Art lowered himself beneath her, with his head right between her legs, she smiled under the water and slowly came up for air for the last time. Y/n looked at the figure of her mother coming towards her and did her best to hide her nakedness.

— The restaurant went wrong, your father is irritated, I'm going to bed okay, dear. Her mother said just a few steps from the pool.

— What a shame, good night THEN. Y/n's tone unintentionally increased when Art stuck a finger into her.

— Are you well? It's getting late, don't stay there too long.

— Of course, I'll be right out. When he was about to leave the area she came back with Art's fingers in her pussy.

— Art left much later than us? Such a good man, it's a shame he's old for you, right, love. She said and Y/n just agreed, we received a strange look from her mother.

— Ok, good night. As soon as she left Y/n opened the clinic he was ecstatic and threw his forehead against the edge of the pool. Art's head shot up again and a mischievous look came with it. — This wasn’t fair. She complained and Art grabbed her waist, sat her down outside the pool, spread her legs and buried his face in them, sucking her like she was ice cream. — Art, my parents…my parents can see. Oh. She moaned as Art ran his tongue over her swollen clitoris. — uhm, right there. She moaned, taking her hands to his blonde hair, forcing him for more. — fuck, Art. That's it, uhm. She moaned softly and aart inserted two more fingers into her before she came once again.

— You are my sin, Y/n Adams. He said looking at her before getting out of the pool, grabbing a towel and keeping her out of the cold of the night. — I think I have to go.

— You come back?

— We still have class tomorrow, right?

Art knew that from now on he would need her like he needed air to breathe, Y/n Adams would be his biggest problem and he already knew that.

>>>>>>>

Requests are open ✨

#art donaldson x reader #art donaldson smut #challengers #tashi duncan #art donalson x reader #art donaldson

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zvtara-was-never-canon · 7 months ago

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https://www.tumblr.com/attackfish/155865674048?source=share

Thoughts on this pist? The three pillar theory of Azula?

I think it's a shame that it started out as a genuinely good analysis that wasn't neglecting either Azula's "evil" side nor her "good/innocent" side, and was quickly derrailed into nonsense that either lies about or grossly misremembers canon events.

Here are the five mistakes that ruined this analysis (and plenty of others).

1 - Unwillingness to accept that, while Azula is wrong about Ozai, she is 100% right about Ursa

Ozai was an abusive parent towards both of children. Ursa was a better parent - this does not mean she was perfect.

We see her spending time one-on-one with Zuko, and sometimes including Azula in it, and looking happy when her children are seemingly getting along. So far, so good.

But she doesn't spend one-on-one time with Azula, Bryke describe Zuko as Ursa's FAVORITE, and Zuko himself does not defend his mother when Azula says she loved him more. Not so good.

When Zuko throws bread at the turtleducks and hurts one, Ursa is horrified, but only reprimands him a little before hugging him and playfully explaining to him why what he did was bad. Through the rest of the episode, we constantly see her either telling Azula to not speak the way she does or scolding her harshily - without ever explaining the reason why. Zuko, the year-old, is the only person that bothers to explain things to Azula (like Iroh coming home early because he's grieving and how that's not weakness) and question her in an attempt to force her to put herself in someone else's shoes (asking how she'd feel if their cousin wanted their dad to die).

Ursa's 10-year-old son, even when in a fit of rage, did a better job than her at parenting her 8-year-old daughter.

And, finally, this person mentions the comics as "proof" of Azula just "not understanding" that her mom totally was treating her and Zuko the same, unlike their dad.

In the comics, Ursa ignores her daughter, even she's in the room. She wakes Zuko up to say goodbye when she's banished, so he'll know he was loved, but doesn't do the same to Azula, meaning their last interaction was a fight. She then willingly forgets her own children, and then she has her memories back she rarely ever bothers to mention that Azula, who is in the middle of a psychotic episode, is missing. There's no concern for her well-being, only "Oh, I wonder how my OTHER daughter is doing." Can't even say her fucking name.

Ursa played favorites and it damaged her daughter. The mirror scene is quitely literally Azula desperately wanting Ursa to treat her like she used to treat Zuko - explaining what she did wrong, how she can be better, and assuring her that she is loved. The only time Azula is treated fairly by her mother was literally a hallucination.

2 - Bizarre need to make every mundane thing Azula does be connected to/a result of some pathological condition

Azula is a manipulative person, no one in their right mind can deny that - but I gotta laugh when people act like her giving her mom puppy-dog eyes and repeating the line Ursa probably used to make her kids play together is on the same level of her manipulating Long Feng, or that her playing a prank on Zuko and Mai is no different from messing with his head in "Avatar State."

Just because she is villain, doesn't mean everything she does has an evil, hidden motive. We first hear "Azula always lies" when she tells Zuko THE TRUTH about their dad going to murder him.

No one believes someone who is NEVER honest. No one gets attached to someone that is NEVER kind. Not dick move is a result of someone's greatest flaws. A child telling a white lie is not the same as some crazy scheme to manipulate someone.

3 - Not understanding that unhealthy/selfish love is not the same as FAKE love

I don't think I've ever been more mad at a line in an analysis about Azula (which is saying a lot) than I was when I read this person claim that Azula didn't genuinely love Mai and Ty Lee and justified with the absurd sentence "People don’t fall apart the way Azula did because somebody they love leaves them."

Yes, they do. When you have a ton of problems, be it psychological ones or life-problems, having the people you care about turn away from you can absolutely make you spiral out of control. You don't even need some kind of unhealthy, excessive dependence on them for that to be the case. Losing people is very painful, and during low points a great deal of pain can fuck you up.

Azula's dynamic with them is not healthy, but that doesn't mean her love isn't real. And I don't mean it in a "It's real FOR HER", no, it's just 100% real, plain and simple.

If Azula didn't care about them, she would have never done things like not punish Mai for blatanly disregarding her orders in The Drill, or apologize after making Ty Lee cry, admit she was JEALOUS, and then ask advice. She'd sure as hell not have conversation with her "mom" (herself) about how she hurt them and abused their friendship/her authority over them.

She loves her friends, but she was never taught how to have a normal, equal relationship with anyone. She was raised to see things as a matter of who is in charge and who is subordinate. She is the princess, therefore it's her right to put her wants and needs before that of her friends. She even says to "Ursa" that she doesn't have the option to NOT act like that, because "fear is the only reliable way."

That is a key factor of Azula's tragedy, because her relationship with Ozai is the center of her universe, it is the basis of all other relationships in her life - and it is rooted in her never doing anything to displease him because she's terrified not only of the potential punishment, but of also losing that bond. So she uses fears to keep others close to her, not realizing that if she didn't do that they wouldn't WANT to cut ties with her.

(Also, fuck me, I nearly punched my computer when I read "Ty Lee ran away with the circus to be free of Azula." She literally tells us it was about her bad relationship with HER PARENTS AND HER SISTERS. It had nothing to do with Azula - what is it with people and this obsessive need of blaming my girl for things we KNOW weren't her fault?)

4 - Not understanding that Zuko is more than just Azula's rival/the exemple of what happens when you displease Ozai

Azula loves her brother. According to the lead writer of the show, Zuko is the person Azula loves the most (after Ozai, hence all the tension in their relationship).

Azula didn't know Aang had any chance of survival until Zuko let it slip - when they were ALREADY home, meaning the plan to blame him for everything if Aang survived could not possibly exist yet.

In the following episode, she warns him to be careful when visiting Iroh, otherwise people could think they were plotting together. Zuko asks what she's gaining by letting him know, and she says she's just looking out for him - and it never comes back, because she was not lying. She WAS taking care of him.

The Last Agni Kai hits so hard because they COULD have had a good relationship if things were different. If Ozai and Ursa hadn't played favorites. If Ozai wasn't abusive. If Zuko hadn't left after Azula brought him home, or if Azula had understood WHY he left.

Even in "The Spirit Temple", one of the few comics that are actually good, Azula says she wished their mom had let Ozai kill Zuko... yet we see that her ideal, happy life includes her loving, unscarred brother that is super proud of her. She spends the entire comic saying Zuko is weak and a coward who can't face her, yet when she sees "him" (an hallucination) directly confroting her about her own mistakes and the pain she caused, demanding her to apologize, it is Azula herself who runs away to hide from him.

Azula hurt her brother many times, and she knows that - and she is in denial about the guilt she feels over it because feeling guilt over hurting someone who is "lesser" is a weakness and an imperfection, and she needs to be strong and perfect all the time.

If you disregard her conflicting feelings on her brother, you disregard half her character.

5 - Forgetting that Azula is a child soldier under Ozai's orders

This is THE big one, guys. It's astounding how people just forget that Ozai isn't just Azula's abusive parent, he is the absolute monarch that can legally punish her if she displeases him.

Does she repeatedly fight Zuko because of their rivalry? Sure. But half the time she's doing it because Ozai literally gave her the mission to do so.

Does she threaten Ty Lee at the circus because she doesn't like being told "no"? Yes... but also because Ty Lee would be a valluable team member, and she needs a small elite team to properly do the task Ozai gave her.

Even the Last Agni Kai happens in the context of "Ozai just told Azula that he's trusting her to protect defend their throne."

There's a reason why, at "The Beach", she can handle pretending to be regular girl instead of a princess, but is CONSTANTLY on "battle mode", trying to turn a game into a war, praising a guy's outfit by sayind it'd make thousands drown at sea with how sharp it is, and why her flirting game consists of "We'll take over the world together!"

She grew up seeing violence be normalized and glorified every second of the day, to the point that things don't even register to her as being violent at all anymore.

Of course she's toxic and full on hostile in her relationships, no matter how much she cares about the person in question: All she's ever known is war, and Ozai deliberately blurs the lines to make his abuse of her and Zuko seem normal.

You can't disregard "Ozai will punish me if I don't do this" as a factor when talking about Azula.

#azula #azula meta #azula deserved better

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janeyseymour · 10 months ago

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Won't You Be... My Neighbor?- pt 1

@schemmentis threw out the idea of a reversal of LTN, so... here it is. I hope it delivers.

WC: ~3.3k

When Melissa Schemmenti had said “for better or for worse, til death do us part,” she had wholeheartedly meant it and believed it. She had seen the way that her parents had fallen out of love and divorced, and she swore that she would learn from their mistakes and find a real and true love- that she would fight for her love and her life, and that she would never end up the bitter divorcée like her mother, cursing the father of her child in front of said child.

But here she was doing everything she promised herself she wouldn’t and packing her bags along with her son’s after she caught Joe in bed with his babysitter. And then he had the audacity to tell her that they needed to divorce- that he was in love with Alyssa and couldn’t keep this charade going.

“Fuckin’ asshole,” Melissa grumbles as she hold her son on her hip. “Sleeping with the nanny… fuckin’ babysitter fucker.”

“Momma.”

“I’m sorry Joey,” the redhead mumbles as she presses a kiss to the little boy’s head. She curses the day she let her idiot of a husband convince her to name their son after him. “I’m sorry… Momma’s just… mad.”

“Really mad?” the newly four year old asks.

Melissa just nods once before continuing to pack their bags.

“Momma?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Where are we going?”

“We’re getting out of here,” the teacher sighs. “Daddy decided that we aren’t good enough for him anymore, and you know what? We’re better than him… so we’re leaving, and we’re goin’ to be real happy.”

The last thing that she packs before they leave for the night is the divorce papers. She shows up at Kristen Marie’s doorstep praying that her sister will be kind enough to let the two Schemmenti’s stay on her couch.

“Melissa? Joey?”

“Please don’t say his name,” Melissa groans as she rubs at her temple with the hand not holding her four year old. “I- I can’t right now without wanting to take my bat to that rat bastard’s car.”

“Rat bastard?” Joey echoes through a yawn. He reaches over for his aunt.

“Don’t repeat what Momma just said,” the blonde Schemmenti sister sighs as she takes the little boy into her arms. “What happened, Mel?”

“Asshole slept with the nanny, and then even after I forgave him for the sake of our son handed me divorce papers at dinner,” the redhead huffs. “Can we crash here on the couch for the night? If I have to look at him one more time tonight…”

“Stay as long as you need,” Kristen tells her sister as she roams further into her townhouse. “And you damn well know I ain’t letting you sleep on the couch when I have a perfectly good guest room.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” Melissa sighs softly. “Thank you.”

That was three months ago. In those three months, Joe had promised to give Melissa absolute hell when it came to the divorce and settling everything, claiming that Joe Jr. needed to be with his father. The redhead was adamant that their son, who she now called strictly “JJ”, would be staying with her. This divorce was getting intense and messy, and everything that the second grade teacher had hoped it wouldn’t be- but when there’s a small child involved, of course it would get messy.

In those three months though, the Schemmenti sisters had used their powers of knowing many different guys who were able to help throw together a decently sized apartment for cheap, and she was able to get a steal in terms of rent.

The two had just finished setting up JJ’s bedroom when Kristen Marie finally called it a day. And that leaves Melissa and her son. Her son who is absolutely starving and exhausted and not yet used to this new place that he was supposed to call home.

“Love,” the redhead sighs as she tries to soothe his wailing. The second grade teacher is positive that this place had thin walls, and her neighbors are going to hate her if he continued to cry like this.

“I want to go home!” JJ cries into his mother’s shoulder.

Melissa lets out a shaky breath. “This is home now.”

“No!” his little balled up fist collides with his mother’s shoulder blade. It takes everything in the redhead to not groan out in pain.

“JJ,” Melissa warns. “We do not hit Momma.”

“I don’t care!” he shouts as he does it again.

“Joseph Alexander,” the mother says sternly. She hates that her son shares a first name with his father, even more so now that they’re in the midst of a dirvorce.

The redhead closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “Maybe we need to go on a walk. What do you think? I think that sounds like a great idea,” she thinks aloud. The woman knows that walking around with him while humming softly is almost a sure fire way to get him to fall asleep and stay asleep for at least thirty minutes while she makes dinner, and it has been the perfect way to lull him to sleep since he was born.

She steps out into the hallway and begins to bounce him gently as she walks up and down the hallway, mindlessly singing her favorite tunes softly. When she starts to sing “You Are My Sunshine” though, something else takes over in her body, and she can’t help the tears that form in her eyes. They fall down her cheeks so delicately, and with her son in her arms, she is unable wipe them away. There’s something different about the song now that her marriage had turned into a failed one, and Joe is truly trying to take her little boy, her sunshine, away.

And that’s when you just so happen to be making your way out of your own apartment from down the hall. You immediately hear the soft and sad tune that you’ve had memorized since you were little, and your gaze follows the voice. Your eyes land on a stunning redhead that you’ve never seen before who is holding a now sleeping little boy- and then you see that her eyes are sparkling with tears. Deciding not to overstep and say anything when it looks like this woman is clearly in distress, you simply wave at her gently with an encouraging smile before heading for the elevator.

Once Melissa is sure that JJ is out for at least a little bit, she heads back into the apartment and sets him on the couch. The mother drapes a blanket over her dozing son before pressing a soft kiss to his chubby little cheek and making her way into the kitchen.

It’s much later when you return back from the gym and freshen up in the shower. As you go to sit on the couch with a glass of wine to unwind for the night, you frown. Maybe you should check on that neighbor of yours. You’re familiar with everyone else who lives on your floor, so you know which door to knock on in order to find that beautiful emerald-eyed woman from earlier in the evening with a second glass of wine in hand to offer to the woman that you don’t know the name of.

Inside the apartment, Melissa is sitting on her new couch with a bowl of popcorn and a rather heavy pour of red wine as she watches her reality television show that she hasn’t had time to watch in the midst of the move.

Your knock startles her. It’s loud enough to get her attention, and she grabs the bat that sits next to her for protection. She approaches the door with her bat in hand.

“Who is it?” the redhead yells just loud enough for you to hear, but not loud enough to wake the little boy in the other room.

“You the woman that just moved in?” you call back.

“What’s it to you?!” she asks, and her grip on the bat just gets tighter, although she knows it’s probably nothing worth worrying about. Your voice was light and sweet, even at the volume you were using.

“Saw you had a kid. Was wondering if you needed help with anything. You looked real stressed.”

At that, she opens the door just a crack, and she recognizes you as the woman she saw a few hours earlier. Her bat lowers, and she opens it a bit more.

“The help would’ve been nice while I was moving in,” she retorts.

“Trust me, if I were around this last week, I would’ve offered to help,” you sigh softly. “Away for work… but it’s nice to meet you now.” You offer her the glass of rosé wine that you had brought from down the hall.

“I’m already ahead of you there,” she sighs with a bitter chuckle. “Thank you though.”

“Yeah,” you laugh softly as you tuck a hair behind your ear. Now that you can see her up close and personal, you see that she really is stunning- beautiful red hair, sparkling jade colored eyes, straight teeth, and you would be lying if you hadn’t stolen a glance at her figure. “I thought it might be a nice way to introduce myself and welcome you to the second floor. If I- If I had anything for your little boy, I would’ve brought it over too, but I wasn’t aware that the new neighbor had a little boy.”

She purses her lips. “You don’t gotta act like you care about the new neighbors.”

“I don’t,” you give her that. “But I always go out of my way to try to make the newbies feel welcome- especially when I see that the new neighbor is upset in the hallway with her little boy on my way to the gym.”

That gets Melissa’s false bravado to break just slightly. “Sorry if that disturbed you. It’s the only way I can get him to go down for a nap when he’s like this- all riled up from the move.”

You just raise a hand and shake your head gently. “No need to apologize. Your singing is a lot less disturbing than the sex I can hear my other neighbors having.”

The redhead can’t help but laugh at the ridiculous comment you just made. “I more meant his crying.”

“Little kids cry- my sister’s kid cries all the time. I’m used to it,” you chuckle softly. “Now seriously, do you need anything? How can I help?”

“I think I’m okay,” she tells you. “But I do appreciate the check in… Sorry I approached the door with a bat.”

You wave a hand in dismissal. “I get it. Being in West Philly by yourself as a woman can be scary- I have to admit I would’ve done the same thing.”

She just smirks at you.

“Well,” you sigh. “Have a good rest of your night, neighbor. Welcome to the second floor.”

You turn on your heel and start to head back down to your own apartment when her voice stops you. “Wait!” You turn back to face her. “I- I never got your name.”

“Y/N,” you smile at her.

“M- Melissa,” is all the redhead can stammer out as she takes a moment to memorize the name to the face. “And my son is JJ.”

“Well, it was really nice to meet you, Melissa. If you need me, I’m just two doors down at 208. Don’t be a stranger,” you wink at her before heading back into your own apartment.

The redhead stands there for a second, not quite knowing how to feel about you. You’re odd- the only Philadelphian who has given her the time of day, and then you wink at her? It’s different, and entirely the opposite of how most Philadelphians are, and somehow, she’s intrigued by you.

It’s the next day when you’re heading back from work that you stop at the Target on your way home to pick up groceries. When you pass the children’s section, you pause before turning your cart down that way. You throw a thing of Play-doh in before continuing down. If you run into Melissa today, you’ll give it to her for her son.

You do end up running into her as she’s trying to unlock her door. She has her son on her hip again, but she’s on the phone this time. She’s shouting into the phone as you pass her with the bags you’ve brought up. You dig through your bags before you hand her the little container filled with the clay for JJ, and she gives you an odd look. You just nod and smile before making your way into your apartment and unloading your groceries.

When there’s a knock on your door, you jump just slightly as you pull the handmade pizza out of the oven. You set the dinner on the stove before making your way over to the front door. You glance out of your peephole, and there is Melissa with JJ on her hip and giggling with glee as he plays with the Playdoh you bought for him.

“Hey,” you open the door with a smile.

“We thought we would just stop by and say thank you,” the woman bounces the little boy on her hip gently. He giggles, but his eyes don’t leave his hands. “JJ, say thank you to Miss Y/N.”

“Thank you!” he grins as his eyes finally leave the dough in his hands.

Your smile only gets softer as you see how adorable the little guy is. “You’re so welcome. I’m glad you like it!”

“Like it?! I love it!” JJ squeals and kicks his legs with glee. “It’s my favorite color too! How did you know I loved blue?!”

“Thank you,” Melissa tells you gently. “You really didn’t have to do that.”

“I didn’t have to,” you shrug. “But I wanted to.”

The emerald-eyed woman doesn’t quite know what else to say, so there’s a bit of an awkward silence that washes over the two of you.

“Would you two like to come in for dinner? I made homemade pizza,” you offer, hoping to cut the tension and perhaps get to spend a bit of time with your new neighbors from down the hall.

“Pizza?!” JJ’s eyes light up at the word.

Melissa looks down at her son. “Baby, I thought you wanted pasta.”

“But Momma, pizza!” he shouts with enthusiasm.

Green eyes meet yours, as if she’s trying to find whatever game your playing. But you look genuine with your invite. “Are you sure we wouldn’t be intruding?”

“Positive,” you tell her softly. “I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t sure.”

Dinner is nice. Melissa is guarded at first, but her walls slowly come down as she truly sees that you have no malicious intention inviting her and her son in. JJ adores you immediately, telling his mother that he’s never had such good pizza. She has to admit too, your pizza is one of the best she’s had. She doesn’t know that your cousin owns a shop down the street, and you’ve tweaked his recipe to be better than the pies he sells.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” you chuckle softly as you start to clean up the meal. Then you glance to his mother. “Care for another glass of wine?”

“As much as I would love to,” she sighs. “I’ve gotta get my little man to get bed.”

“Ah, yes,” you smile. “I totally understand. Well, thanks for coming over.”

“Thank you for having us,” the redhead says genuinely as she wipes the four year old’s face clean of the sauce that’s spread all over. She wipes his hands, and then holds out her own for him to take.

He doesn’t take her hand though, and he instead runs over to you and hugs your leg. Your hand immediately goes to his back and pats it gently with the softest smile on your face.

“Thank you, Miss Y/N.” JJ looks up with you, and his eyes sparkle the way his mother’s do.

“Of course, sweetheart,” you tell him gently, voice warm and smooth like butter. You crouch down to his height and hug him properly.

Melissa watches the two of you with a bit of a twinkle in her eye. She’s in awe of how well you handle him. You’re definitely younger than her, but you have such a way with JJ- maybe it’s because you have a niece or a nephew, she remembers.

You give him one last gentle squeeze before letting him go. “I think your momma’s waitin’ for you, hun.”

He giggles before running over to the redhead and lifting his arms up with a soft request for, “Uppy.” Of course, the mother settles him on her hip with ease, and she tosses a thank you over her shoulder as she makes her way towards your front door. Something stops her though, and she turns back around into the kitchen where you’re washing dishes.

“If you want, you can pop over any time after 7:30 for a glass of wine,” she tells you. “JJ will be down for the night by then.”

“I’ll see you at eight,” you tell her softly, and you wink at her again.

As Melissa tucks her son in for the night, she can’t help but wonder if you’ll show. There’s a big part of her that hopes that you’ll make your way down the hall, although she can’t quite place why she’s taken such an interest in you. She indeed has taken up an interest in you- you’re meek and mild, a sweet lady who has nothing but the best intentions from what she can see (and that’s quite hard for her to not be pessimistic about you, but you’ve managed to make her believe that you might just be good at the root of it all). You’re completely the opposite of her ex-husband and entirely not her type.

And at eight o’clock sharp, you show up at her door, a bottle of wine in hand.

“Hey,” you sigh softly when she opens the door for you. “I brought wine.”

“Wine’s on me, hun,” the redhead rolls her eyes. “You make dinner on a night where I really didn’t want to cook, so I provide the drinks after. What do you like?”

You shrug. “I’ll drink whatever.”

She pours a glass of red- and while you aren’t necessarily a fan of any type of red blend, you take it and sip on it. It tastes much better when it comes from someone as beautiful as her.

“So,” you start as you settle on her couch. “Do you wanna talk about that rather heated phone call I caught you in the middle of earlier today?”

She closes her eyes and takes a shaky breath.

“Hey,” you say gently, and you reach a hand out to lay over hers. “If you don’t wanna talk about it, we don’t gotta.”

“Shit soon-to-be ex-husband,” is all she says, and you immediately understand. The frown that washes over your face is one that you can’t hide.

“I’m sorry,” you tell her immediately.

She shrugs. “Caught him fucking the babysitter. He handed me the divorce papers three months ago, and now I’m in a damn custody battle over my son… like hell is he going to get JJ.”

“Custody battle?”

“Yeah,” the redhead groans. “And my lawyer is taking his sweet ol’ time, so right now, I’m shit out of luck.”

“I- I may be able to help you with that one,” you tell her. Her brows raise, and that’s when you reveal what you do for a profession. “I’m a lawyer… specifically in family court.”

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson

#melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary

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thisgirlnamedblusy · 4 months ago

Note

Hey! So, I was totally stalking your account the other day (please don’t ask why, lmao), and I came across that one-shot you wrote for your last fandom. It got me thinking—could you write something like that, but with Donna?

I changed it a bit, but it’s still kinda the same. It’s about the reader having an identical twin who’s basically better than her at everything and way more popular. Like, people in the village are obsessed with her.

Somehow, Donna meets the reader, and they start getting closer, which is a big deal because, for the first time, the reader feels special—Donna, the powerful lord, likes **her** and not her sister!

Then, there’s this moment where Donna finally tries to ask the reader out, but she’s SO stressed that she doesn't even notice she’s talking to reader's twin instead! The reader overhears the whole thing, and when Donna realizes what’s happened, she goes into full-on damage control mode.

If this isn’t your thing or you think it sounds boring, PLEASE , just ignore this!

LOVE U xx

Yessss!!!! Thank you for... Stalking my account? I'm joking, thanks for your support, and for your request!!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :))))

Identical, but different

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Donna being Donna

Word count: 7,925

Summary: You want to be more than just "her sister"

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

You never liked going out on errands, and you knew exactly why.

“Hey, Ivana! Ivana!” a voice called out a name that wasn’t yours, but you knew the words were directed at you.

Rolling your eyes, you turned around, seeing a young villager running up to you.

“Ivana, listen, I want to…” the boy said hurriedly, placing an unpleasant hand on your shoulder.

You pushed it away, growling in annoyance.

“I’m not Ivana,” you said, repeating the phrase that, every time you left your house, you were forced to repeat over and over again. “I’m (Y/N)”

“Oh, wow. Sorry,” the boy said, scratching the back of his neck nervously and embarrassedly. “Um, hey, could you give this to your sister?” he asked, handing you a piece of paper with horrible handwriting on it.

A love letter, again?

“Why don't you give it to her?” you asked, taking the envelope in an unpleasant manner and putting it together with the ones that you had obtained on your walk through the village.

“Well... You are her sister...” he stammered, to which you made a face of displeasure and shook your head.

“Yes, I’m her sister, not her errand girl,” you said with a hiss, walking away from the boy.

“Don't forget to tell her that it’s form Marco!” he yelled, making you shrug and hiss a few curses.

Every day was another occasion for contempt to appear in front of you.

Being born in that dark village, under the tutelage of the Black Gods, Mother Miranda, the Lords... None of that could compare to the bad luck you had in your life. Bad luck with your family? Not exactly.

Your parents were hard workers, humble but normal parents after all. That wasn't the problem, just like living in that place wasn't the problem either. The problem was the whim of fate that hung over you at birth.

You could have been an only child, but you weren't. You had a sister, but not just any sister, completely different from you, no. Ivana was your twin sister. Physically you were identical.

But physical resemblance had nothing to do with personality. All the charisma, the ease of talking to people, of attracting attention, seemed to have been sucked out of your body and belonged only to Ivana.

She was popular, everyone in the village knew her, almost adored her (not like Mother Miranda, of course). There was no young villager who didn't notice her stupid smile, one that belonged to you, but that didn't have the same effect.

Always Ivana, always your sister was who stole all the limelight from you. You simply existed, but nothing else. You existed because you were her sister. People talked to you because they mistook you with her. It might seem like a desperate situation, and it was, but you had already gotten used to it.

Well, you weren't really excited about talking to people either. It didn't matter that your silence, your shyness and isolation were caused by a genetic error that made your sister steal all those abilities from you. You never really liked talking to people. You had other hobbies that were more peaceful than making a name for yourself in that sinister place.

Still, every day you left your house was a new torment, a new parade of refusals and corrections. Maybe one day you would play pretend to be Ivana, maybe that way you could get revenge on her. You just rambled. She stole even your courage.

“Hi,” you whispered when you got home, moving towards the kitchen where your mother was waiting for the shopping like every day. “Here you go, mother.”

“Thank you, (Y/N),” the woman said, giving you a tip much smaller than the one they gave your sister.

You didn't want to think about that. You still had hope that your own parents loved you equally.

“Hey, (Y/N),” your sister said, making you close your eyes slowly to give yourself patience. You didn't know exactly why she was that popular. You loved her, but you couldn't help but think that your sister was a bit… Unbearable. “How were the errands?”

“Very well, I love going out to freeze while you sit there,” you said ironically, passing by her. “Oh, now that I remember… Here, this is for you.”

With a sigh you took all the notes out of the pocket of your dress and threw them at her in an unpleasant way.

“Have you met Marco?” your sister asked, reading each of the letters with amusement.

“Yes, and he mistook me for you, just like all those idiots,” you commented, letting yourself fall into an armchair, taking your knife to continue with your greatest hobby, carving wooden figurines, something your grandfather taught you and that, along with reading, helped you to spend the time.

“Don't be jealous,” Ivana mocked, sitting on one arm of the sofa, getting on your nerves. “Look, he says I'm the prettiest girl in the village…”

“That's great. How many girls are there in the village?” you said with irony.

“Mm, it smells like envy,” she murmured, crumpling the letter and throwing it into the fireplace.

“Envy? Please, we are identical,” you said, shaking your head and looking at the fireplace. “Hey, why did you do that?”

“I'm not interested in that boy,” Ivana commented. “Are you with your figurines again?”

“You're not interested? Wasn't he your boyfriend?” you asked, preventing the girl from reaching your wooden work. “Leave me alone.”

“You said it... He was... I think I need to start aiming for a higher level,” she murmured, looking at her nails in a smug manner. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“When are you going to leave your stupid wooden figurines and look for a handsome boy to hook up with?” Ivana asked, making you roll your eyes and snort tiredly.

“I'm not interested,” you whispered, polishing that wooden cat.

“You're weird, huh?” the twin mocked, getting up, making you stare at her.

“Am I weird for not wanting to break the hearts of half the village?” you asked, leaving the cat on a table and getting up in a bad mood.

“That's because you can't, you don't have my charms,” she said with a haughty tone, pointing at herself.

Your patience was at its limit.

“Whatever you say,” you murmured tiredly, glancing sideways at your mother, who seemed attentive to the conversation. “Should I help you, mother?”

“No, honey,” the woman said kindly.

“Are you running away from the conversation? That's because you know I'm right,” Ivana said, crossing her arms in satisfaction.

You had lost your patience at that point. After a whole morning of being mistaken, your mood was rather delicate. With a groan, you got up from the couch and walked towards the door.

“Hey, loser, where are you going?”

“Where you don’t care,” you said abruptly, bumping her with your shoulder as you passed and walking out the door. “Stupid…”

Going out for a walk around the area could be comforting, you always did it. Relaxing with your sister always present, walking through the village was impossible but… If you went further away, where there was no one, at least you could be calm.

Walking through the trees you cursed and mumbled about the bad luck you had to be born with someone, running your hand over the rocks, looking at the sky, where the cawing of the crows also seemed to want to make fun of you.

“Ivana is perfect, isn't she? To hell with her…” you whispered, shaking your head, walking aimlessly without paying attention. “Oh, Ivana, it's nice to see you, Ivana, I'll give you a discount for being you, Ivana… I can't believe it.”

When you got tired of walking in circles, you stopped in a small clearing that wasn’t familiar to you, siting at an old tree’s feet, along with some of those branches that fell due to the passage of time.

“Ivana is the best, the prettiest, the smartest,” you mocked with an amused expression, picking up a piece of branch and taking out your knife.

“Look at me: I'm stupid Ivana, the one who can't keep a boyfriend for more than one night, the best in the whole world… Damn it.”

Between grunts you began to carve a small wooden figure hoping that time would pass faster. After all, you would have to go home sooner or later.

“Are you Ivana? You're so pretty Ivana…” you continued to murmur, shaping that little figure that looked more and more like a deer. “I'm sick. Oh, Ivana, it's you, isn't it? Of course it's you, you're so beautiful… Oh, it's (Y/N), wow, what a disappointment… Always the same, damn it… I hate you … I'm not damn Ivana… Do I have to cut my hair so you can stop confusing each other? Stupid…”

“Oh, you're Ivana, aren't you?” a different voice said, one you hadn't noticed. It was a mocking voice that you identified with a treacherous subconscious, or a stupid villager.

Either option was irritating enough to make you get up from the tree and turn around furiously.

“Do I have to put a sign on my forehead? I'm not Ivana!” you shrieked with your eyes closed, squeezing the figurine in your hands.

“Wow, what a bad mood you have…” the same voice said.

You opened your eyes sighing, ready to tell another villager to go to hell, but when you did, your face paled.

It wasn't a villager. It wasn't even a human being. A sinister doll stood in front of you, laughing amusedly. You didn't need to think about who it could be, you knew perfectly well: the Angie doll, inseparable companion of one of the four Lords, Donna Beneviento.

The lady in black stood behind the doll with a cold and stoic pose while the puppet laughed amused by your carelessness.

You immediately lowered your head at the sight of the dark lady, your body shaking in terror.

“Lady Beneviento,” you murmured in fear, knowing you were completely defenseless. “I’m sorry, I…”

“What are you doing here?” the doll asked, causing you to look away from the lady and stare frightened at the puppet. “You’re in our territory, stupid.”

“R-Really? Oh, I…,” you said in fear, looking around.

You were definitely angry that day. You hadn’t even realized where your irrational anger had taken you.

“Don’t you know you can’t come here?” the doll insisted, pointing at you with her finger in amusement. “Ivana?”

“I-I'm not Ivana,” you said, ignoring the anger that came over you when she said that name. “I'm (Y/N), her sister…”

“Oh, her sister, I didn't know she had a sister,” Angie said with her hands on her hips. “Well, I actually knew, but I'd never seen you. Ha, I thought I was seeing double...”

“W-We're twins,” you said, still scared, looking up to see the lady, who seemed to be watching you in silence.

“Twins, how cool,” the doll said, getting a little closer to you, fixing her porcelain gaze on the small wooden deer. “What's this?” she asked, snatching the half-made figurine from you.

You made a timid gesture to take it back, but when you felt the lady's gaze on yours, you stopped.

“It's…. It's…” you stammered, controlling the incipient trembling of your legs. “It's a wooden deer.”

“Oh, a deer… Did you make it?” the curious puppet asked, pretending to play with the figurine.

You nodded nervously, clasping your hands in front of your body.

“I, I like to make wooden figurines, I, I carve them myself,” you explained in a small voice.

Angie looked at you and turned around, approaching her owner.

“Look, Donna, look, look,” she said excitedly, handing the lady the deer.

She picked it up slowly, making you notice her hands, which immediately caught your attention. After all, that black veil didn't allow you to see anything.

“Mm,” you thought you heard a murmur coming from the black fabric, but you were so scared that you didn't even pay attention while the doll maker calmly observed the figurine.

She was dangerous, very dangerous. She was a disturbed woman who had no mercy on anyone who came snooping around, someone like you.

“Hey, silly, are you looking for a job?” the doll asked, observing your work of art alongside the lady.

You froze when the lady in black extended her hand to kindly return the figurine to you. You had no answer to that question.

“Um…” you stammered, avoiding making contact with that hand that seemed so soft. “Job?”

“Uh-huh, my Donna is quite the doll artist,” Angie said, pointing at the lady in black, who moved her hand, returning it to the side of her waist. “Maybe your skills as a wood artist could be useful.”

“My skills?” you asked curiously, pointing at yourself. “Uh, actually this, this is a hobby. I'm not a carpenter or something like that.”

“That doesn't matter to us, you have talent, girl,” Angie said, walking around you like a carrion bird. “I assure you that my Donna values talent very much…”

“Oh, I…” you stammered again, scratching the back of your neck. “I-I don't know what to say…”

“Well, don't say anything, silly,” Angie laughed, being picked up from the ground by her owner, who began to walk away from you, passing by your side like a ghost, one that smelled of lavender… “Anyway, think about it, come to our mansion tomorrow so we can get to know each other better, okay?”

“I-I… W-Well, okay,” you said confused, nodding, while the lady turned her head to look at you for the last time, continuing her way towards the wooden bridge.

That encounter with a Lord was strange, but the strangest thing of all was being able to get out of that place alive. You had heard so many rumors about the lady in black that you didn't know if you could believe them.

You survived, and on top of that... You had a unique job opportunity. You, the scorned sister, had been chosen by Donna Beneviento herself.

You should feel special, but what you had was fear, fear of what could happen to you. The job offer was, however, tempting and on the way home, you could not stop thinking about it.

It wasn’t something you could keep quiet and, during the meal, you told your family what had happened.

“What do you mean?” your father asked after a few seconds of deathly silence. “You say that Beneviento wants you to work for her?”

“Yes, father,” you said, lowering your head, drinking a glass of water. “It seems that she needs help with her dolls.”

“Wait, are you telling me that a Lord has taken an interest in you?” your sister asked, her eyes wide. The trouble of going into the forest was worth just to see her face.

“Yes, it seems that my figurines are not a waste of time,” you said with a haughty tone, making your sister frown.

“(Y/N)…” your father sighed. “I hope you're not thinking of accepting that offer.”

You shrugged.

“I don't know, it could be a good job,” you whispered indecisively, picking up a piece of bread.

“A good job? That woman is insane, do you hear me? I won't let my daughter risk her life like that,” the man said, pointing at you sternly. “No.”

“But, father…” you protested with a sad look. “She didn't seem so… Insane to me…”

“Seriously, why you?” your sister added, envy oozing from every pore.

“No… No wa…” your father repeated, interrupted by your mother's hand.

“Vlad… Wait a moment,” the woman said in a cautious tone. “Maybe it's a good opportunity. That horrible woman is a Lord. She’s rich…”

“My daughter isn't worth all the money in the world, Ingrid,” your father said, crossing his arms.

You couldn't help but smile. At least for your family you were something else than Ivana's sister.

“Think about it Vlad, if (Y/N) works for Beneviento, we'll be protected in some way, besides, we have a lot of debts… It could be the miracle we're waiting for,” your mother commented, making the whole family look at you.

“Well… What do you say, (Y/N)?” the man asked, pointing at you with his fork. “Do you want to work for that crazy woman?”

Again, you shrugged, nodding slowly.

“I don’t think it’s a bad idea,” you whispered, eating calmly.

Your sister snorted, crossing her arms.

“I can’t believe it, you?” she protested with a nasty look.

“What’s wrong, Ivana?” you said with an evil smile. “Are you jealous?”

The next day, after enjoying your sister’s protests, you decided to accept, walking, this time with a sure course towards the lady’s mansion. Internally you meditated on your options.

Well, your parents needed money and… Your sister was jealous. There was no harm in trying your luck with that woman. Maybe she wasn't as horrible as everyone thought. You certainly didn't think so.

“Okay…” you muttered, entering through a red door that led to an elevator. Just getting there made you feel lucky. You wondered if you could go back.

When you finally reached the the mansion, your eyes widened in awe at the sight. A splendid waterfall rose to the side of the old house, one you had only seen in photographs.

“It's great,” you said with a smile, pleased by the beauty of the place, by feeling that, somehow, you weren't in danger.

But your face changed when you saw a figure walking towards the house, one that looked suspiciously like you.

“It can't be…” you muttered, walking faster and shaking your head. “Hey, you! What the hell are you doing here?” you asked annoyed, pulling your twin sister's arm.

She smiled at you arrogantly.

“I see that punctuality is not your strong point, huh?” she mocked, breaking away from your grip and walking towards the entrance of the mansion. “I'm here looking for work, (Y/N)”

“What? You have to be kidding,” you said indignantly, pulling her arm again. “Go away, Ivana, this job is mine.”

“Oh, please…” the girl sighed, rolling her eyes. “Don't be naive, you're good for nothing.”

“Well, it turns out that Lady Beneviento needs my talent for wood carving, one you don't have,” you said mockingly, climbing the stairs with your twin, who laughed ironically.

“Don't talk nonsense, you're useless, (Y/N), I can do many more things,” she said satisfied, putting on her dress before knocking on the door, something you prevented by grabbing her wrist.

“What things? Are you planning to seduce this woman too?” you asked unpleasantly.

“Please, I'm not into women, that would be you,” Ivana said sarcastically, releasing herself from your hand and bringing her fist closer to the door again.

“You're unbearable,” you growled, kicking the ground, furious. “This job is mine, Beneviento wanted me, not you. Can't you let me be the protagonist for once?”

“You? Protagonist? Don't make me laugh,” your sister mocked, crossing her arms.

“I really want to pull your hair...” you threatened, approaching her with a dark look.

“You are so vulgar, and you want to work for a Lord?”

“I'm going to…” you growled, reaching out your arms towards your sister, who struggled with you until, with an ominous creak, the door opened.

“Well, well, well…” Angie the doll hummed, in the arms of the lady in black.

Comically, the two sisters separated, adopting a formal and respectful pose.

“Look Donna, has anyone ordered a two for one?” the doll mocked, laughing amusedly while pointing at you effusively.

“Lady Beneviento,” you and Ivana said at the same time, with a frown.

“Am I seeing double?” the puppet mocked again, shaking her head.

“Lady Beneviento,” your sister said, taking a step forward and extending her hand towards the lady, who lowered her gaze but didn’t return the greeting. “Um, I have come looking for work.”

“You?” the doll asked, with a suspicious tone. “(Y/N)?”

“No, no, (Y/N) is this one,” Ivana said mockingly, pointing at you while you kept your head down. “I’m her sister and it is wrong for me to say it, but… I’m better than her for this job.”

“Shut up,” you hissed in an angry whisper, glancing sideways at the lady in black. Unfortunately, you couldn't know where that mysterious woman was looking.

“Oh…” the doll murmured. “Do you also carve wood?”

“No, my lady, but I… Well, I have other talents,” your unbearable sister said.

The lady sighed loudly, but made a gesture for both of you to enter the house.

As expected, your sister's charisma made her not want to keep quiet, making kind comments about everything in the mansion, she even had the audacity to comment on the beauty of the portrait hanging on the wall of the stairs, one that you also noticed, but you didn't say anything.

The two of you sat on a sofa following the vague and silent instructions of the lady in black, who did the same on an armchair located in front of you.

“I think that color suits the house well, and it has a beautiful floor and…” Ivana said tirelessly while you simply lowered your head, occasionally looking at the stoic lady, who, you couldn't be sure, but you thought was looking at you.

“Hey, shut up,” Angie protested, making your sister close her mouth immediately with a cocky smile. “Let's see… You are Ivana, right?”

“Yes, my lady,” your sister said, blinking petulantly.

“And you (Y/N),” Angie repeated, pointing at you.

Your response was an elegant nod.

“Well, I already know what (Y/N) knows how to do, but you… I've heard a lot of things about you in the village,” Angie said, speaking in a slightly strange way, as if she wasn't really the doll.

The woman didn't speak, she just looked at you.

“It's an honor, my lady,” Ivana said, bowing ridiculously. “Yes, I'm quite well-known in the village.”

“Uh-huh, okay, why do you want to work for us?” the puppet asked.

“It would be an honor for me to serve you, my lady,” Ivana said, making you look at her with a disgusted face.

“What can you do?” Angie asked again, without looking at you, the complete opposite of her owner, or so you thought.

“Well, among my many talents… I know how to cook…” the girl began petulantly, placing herself in an informal posture.

You didn't move, you simply maintained that mysterious look.

“My Donna also cooks, what else?” Angie said, her tone seeming impatient. “We don't need cooks.”

“I'm very good at washing clothes,” your twin continued.

“That's good, hey, haven't you heard of washing machines? You should try them,” Angie mocked, making you unable to contain a smile.

“I-I can also… I can…” your sister stammered, revealing with her voice that she was starting to get nervous. “I'm very good at conversation.”

“Oh, did you hear that, Donna? She likes to talk,” Angie said, looking at the lady who did the same with a serene pose. “What do you say, Donna? Oh, of course, you don't like to talk…”

“Um, um… I can, I can be your maid, my lady, I'll do anything you ask me to,”

Was that a desperate request? Your discreet smile widened.

“We don't need a maid, silly, why don't you try the castle? Surely there you are useful,” the doll said.

You suppressed an amused laugh, glancing sideways at your trembling sister.

“Get out of my house,” a hoarse, unknown voice said, one that came out from the black veil, which had a soft and melodic accent. It was Donna, you were sure.

You, thinking she was talking to you, lowered your head with sadness in your gaze, getting up from the sofa.

“Yes, get out, you're bothering me,” your sister emphasized with a satisfied smile.

“No, not you, (Y/N),” the hoarse voice spoke again.

You stopped with a cautious look.

“You stupid fool!” Angie shrieked, pointing at your sister. “Didn't you hear my Donna? We don't need a fool like you, you're useless.”

“What?” Ivana asked with a frown.

“Go away, go away, come on, out, out,” the doll insisted, gesturing with her hands while your sister, scared, looking at you with fiery eyes, ran towards the exit.

“Sit down,” the dark voice spoke again and the hand of the lady in black moved towards the sofa.

You, amused watching your sister leave the mansion, obeyed, calmer. A moment of silence tensed the atmosphere. There was no one else the lady could be looking at, there was only you.

“Your sister can't be quiet, right?” the lady asked, with that very special voice, with an almost inaudible whisper.

You smiled kindly, shaking your head.

“Yes, she's an idi... I mean, she's, she's... Like that,” you said, swallowing the insult. She was a Lord, after all.

“She's an idiot, you can say it,” Angie said, amused, getting off her owner's lap and sitting on the couch next to you. “We don't like idiots...” she whispered in your ear.

You smiled again, lowering your head when you felt those invisible eyes looking at you again.

“Do I scare you, (Y/N)?” the lady asked, making you briefly look up and shake your head, lying shamelessly.

“No,” you said with a sleepy, broken voice, playing with your hands and wishing to carve wood to release the stress. The Lord tilted her head slowly, searching for the truth with that simple gesture. “Well, a, a bit... I've never been that close to... One of you.”

“So, what do you think? Is it as horrible as you expected?” Beneviento asked again, running a hand over her knee, as if she were nervous too, which was impossible, of course.

“Not really,” you said in a sincere tone, smiling at the ridiculousness of your perfect sister. “You’re the… First one who doesn’t… Who doesn’t think my sister is… Well, great.”

“She’s not great,” she said in a sharp voice. “You have a talent I need. She’s just a stupida…”

“Oh, well, I…” you said, scratching your head, blushing at the compliment, which was unusual if it wasn’t accompanied by: Oh, you’re Ivana, aren’t you? “It’s, it’s a hobby.”

“A hobby that I find very useful,” she murmured, gesturing to Angie and getting up from the sofa with a tired sigh. “Come.”

You stood nervously on the couch, your legs deciding they didn't want to move. You were terribly nervous. No one had ever paid you so much attention, much less... Someone like her.

“Didn't you hear me, girl?” Donna asked impatiently, turning around to look at you, making her veil dance hypnotically. “Come here.”

“Y-Yes, sorry,” you said hastily, getting up and walking next to her, again, in silence, a terrifying one.

After going down an elevator, you walked through a dark basement that gave you chills, until you reached what looked like an old workshop, surely the place where those porcelain dolls were created.

All the children in the village had one, and you were no exception, although your sister's was much more detailed, as always.

“I suppose you're wondering what I want you to do for me,” the lady in black murmured, walking towards a table, where there was an old sewing machine. You nodded with a formal pose.

“Yes, my lady,” you said in a dry, respectful tone, as much as you could.

“Do you see these dolls?” she asked, pointing at the objects, impatiently indicating for you to come a little closer. “Don't just stand there, come closer, girl.”

You walked slowly, taking the porcelain doll the lady offered you and examining it carefully.

“I've known how to make these dolls since I was much younger than you,” the lady began explaining while you played with the doll's clothes. “It's easy for me.”

“I-I see, my lady, it's a magnificent job,” you said with your best smile, giving the doll back to her.

“Save the compliments. If I wanted someone to flatter me, I would call your sister,” she said in a cold tone, leaving the doll in its place.

You swallowed and nodded, regretting your words.

“The thing is simple, (Y/N)… Wood was never my strong point,” the lady whispered, gesturing towards the restless Angie, who climbed into her arms, as if she had hypnotized the doll. “Look at those joints, the details of the fingers…”

You obeyed, craning your head to look at those hands… And also at the wooden fingers.

“It's very well done,” you said, touching the puppet unsteadily, moving its fingers.

“Don't touch it too much, or she will bite you,” the lady said in a dark tone, which made you move your hand away immediately, making something like a nervous laugh come out from behind the veil. “Sorry, it's a joke. Angie won't do anything to you.”

“Oh, okay…” you sighed, playing with your hands.

“Angie was created by my father, and he was good at wood, a talent that, unfortunately, I didn't inherit,” the lady continued, giving life to Angie again and lowering her to the ground. “I would like to recover that part I lost, to make these moving dolls again, and for that, I need you.”

“I understand,” you said pleasantly, nodding.

“Will you be able to help me, or am I wasting my time, (Y/N)?” she asked, crossing her arms in a challenging pose.

“I will do what I can, my lady,” you said elegantly, smiling, knowing that you had gotten the job, one that your sister was not able to achieve, one in which, at last, you would surpass her.

“My lady…” she whispered, with a nervous laugh, indicating for you to sit on a nearby chair. “Don't call me that, you remind me of your sister…”

“Oh, okay,” you said laughing shyly, taking a piece of wood that she handed you. “Lady Beneviento?”

“Donna, it's much shorter,” she said, sighing and sitting next to you. You nodded nervously. “Well, it's not that I doubt you, girl, but I'd like to see what you're capable of. I want a right arm, more or less like Angie's, can you do it?”

And so, by a terrible coincidence, a new part of your life began. A much better one, one in which, finally, you didn't feel inhibited by your sister's abilities.

You had a job. You worked for a Lord, an achievement only reserved for the privileged or well, for any young girl who dared to approach the castle, and who didn't plan on getting married.

The days passed quickly in the old mansion. Silence always accompanied you as you manipulated that wood, always next to the lady in black.

Yes, she could be many things, she could be a sick and dangerous woman, but she didn't show it with you. She wasn't very talkative, quite the opposite of her doll, but she was kind in her own way, grateful for your formality, for every thing you did well, and understanding if you made a mistake.

You certainly felt better than ever. Finally there was someone who preferred you over your sister, something you never thought could happen. The days, weeks, months passed and those little conversations with the doll maker increased little by little, as did your smiles.

Donna was a fascinating, mysterious woman, but completely different from the other Lords. Surely that was what caught your attention, yes, yes, it wasn't at all her sweetness, her melodic and seductive accent, or the beauty of her hands…

Maybe you were a bit confused, maybe that attraction (yes, attraction) you were starting to feel for the lady in black was simply a thank you from your heart for feeling important, for feeling that, for once, your sister wasn’t the protagonist.

“Good job, (Y/N),” Donna whispered, running her slender fingers through the wooden ones you had just polished while you looked at her satisfied. “I can give this little hand a manicure, don't you think?”

“Yes, thank you, Donna,” you said with a smile, sighing at the work that wooden arm took you.

She nodded, making you understand she had heard you and, surprisingly, she brought her hand to the black veil that covered her face, removing it elegantly.

You looked away at first, but you couldn't help but glance at her face out of the corner of your eye, getting very nervous. Donna was, just as you feared, a beautiful woman. You didn't even pay much attention to the scar, which was probably the reason for wanting to hide her face.

Your mouth opened slightly and your gaze became bolder, going straight to the lady, who was searching through an old glass for a suitable brush to paint your creation.

“Che stai guardando?” she asked without looking at you, knowing that you had become petrified, and why.

“Oh, no-nothing,” you said nervously, returning to the table to play with the leftover pieces of wood.

The lady frowned, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye, putting the brush back in its place.

“Did you understand me?” she asked curiously, turning to look at you, to confirm the beauty you had noticed. “Do you know Italian?”

“Um, yes, no, um, I don't know,” you stammered, turning abruptly to look at the table again. “It's just that... I, I've read a lot of books...”

“Do you like to read?” she asked, taking the brush and smearing it with paint.

“Um, yeah,” you said quietly, playing with a piece of wood, carving it to calm your nerves.

“Mm,” she murmured, concentrating on the arm, not caring too much about you had seen her face. She didn’t really have to. One bad word and you would end up at the bottom of the waterfall. “Your sister likes to read too?”

“My sister?” you asked with a mocking smile. “I doubt she even knows what a book is,” you said, forgetting about the beauty next to you.

Donna laughed softly, but kept her face serious.

“Excuse me for asking, but… Why do you hate your sister?” she asked in a soft voice, curious but distracted at the same time.

“I don't hate her,” you said sighing, shaking your head. “She's my sister and I love her, but it's just that… Ugh, she was always the most… Popular… Everyone approaches her, sucks up to her, wants to flirt with her… It seems like I’m nothing but her shadow.”

“There's no one who doesn't know her,” the lady commented, painting in a disinterested way. “But I don't understand why. She's stupid.”

“Yeah, well…” you said amused, rolling your eyes. “But even if she's stupid, I don't know how she does it, but she has a natural talent for people, she has a lot of charisma, and joy and... Well, everything I lack... She's like a double... Or rather, I'm her sinister double...”

“Mm, so you think that being popular makes you a better person,” she commented distractedly, making you reflect.

“Yes, no, I don't know,” you said, nodding and suddenly shaking your head, not sure of your answer.

“Do you think she's better because people want to flirt with her?” Donna asked again, making you blush.

“W-Well, that doesn't matter too much to me, we don't have the same interests,” you said with a shy voice, not wanting to reveal an important fact about yourself, one that you didn't know how Lady Beneviento would take it.

“Mm, that's obvious,” she murmured without looking at you, making you startle.

“Why do you say so?”

“You're not scared of my face,” she said in a darker voice, controlling an incipient tremor in her hands.

“The-there's nothing to be scared of,” you said, nervous, uncomfortable.

The lady stopped painting, smiling strangely.

“Surely your sister would run away terrified,” she murmured, sighing sadly, something that caught your attention.

“No way,” you said amused with a gesture of your hand. “No matter what she thought, she would surely try to seduce you to take some of your fortune. She always does the same with everyone.”

“Seduce me?” the lady asked amused, letting the wooden arm go and turning to look at you.

“Yes, I think so,” you said, looking away. “She would do anything to gain fame...”

“Even seduce a monster like me,” she said in a different tone, pressing her lips together.

A bad choice of words.

“I didn't mean that,” you said regretfully. “I, I just, I mean that, seducing you is not what... Well, I think that... Well, anyone with eyes in their face could see how beautiful you are and... Well, I... Well... I-I better shut up...” you said nervously, red as blood, looking at the old clock, wishing it was time to leave.

“Do you want to seduce me, (Y/N)?” she asked, in a whispery tone, looking at you with a frown.

Your heart couldn't take it anymore.

“Oh, I... I'm not like my sister,” you said avoiding that poisoned dart, avoiding saying what you really thought.

“That's why I like you,” the lady whispered, bringing a soft hand surprisingly to your face, caressing it gently, almost automatically.

Your breathing quickened and your eyes danced nervously, locked on hers, on that bright and beautiful eye as her skin made contact with yours, a sensation you didn't know felt so good (although you shamefully fantasized about it)

“Y-You-You like me…” you stammered, bringing your hand to hers, leaning in the same way as her until the lady, clearing her throat, withdrew, surely embarrassed.

“Yes, um, um… I think, I think you've done enough for today. You can leave,” Donna said, shaking her head and frowning more intensely, gesturing with her hand.

“Okay,” you sighed with an exaggeratedly sad tone.

Nothing was the same after that strange conversation.

You finally admitted that you feel something for the lady in black, that it wasn't the simple illusion of being valued more than your sister. It was something different, a kind of tension, of tense and uncomfortable moments that became routine.

The smiles, the casual contact of your hands with hers became something more and more frequent. You couldn't be more in love, but neither of you ever mentioned it.

There was never any talk of those subtle caresses or those glances. You didn't dare to say what you thought, and neither did she. It was better this way after all, you could be misinterpreting things.

“That's it... Slowly...” the lady said, on one of those days when you weren't working with wood, but you were learning to sew instead, thanks to her advice. The smile was always in the lady's eye, and on your cheeks, the red color settled as definitive.

“Like this?” you asked, showing her the piece of fabric. She nodded amused, without stopping to look at you. “Good, now I know how to sew.”

“Yes,” she said, with a wider smile. “It's not complicated, (Y/N), it's a matter of practice.”

“I see…” you sighed, going over those clumsy seams.

Silence returned to the old workshop.

“(Y/N)… I, I've been thinking,” Donna murmured, moving away from that comfortable proximity, playing with her hands while you continued sewing. “Maybe it seems hasty but… I have, I have to tell you something.”

You looked at her with wide eyes as she grabbed one of your hands. She was sweating, shaking visibly. She seemed terribly nervous.

“Okay…” you sighed, dazzled by her soft caresses.

“I…”

“Hey, you two!” Angie's shrieks interrupted that tense moment, that moment you had been waiting for so long.

“Angie, this is not a right time,” the lady growled, having seen her attempt frustrated.

“What were you doing?” the doll asked in a mocking tone, dragging out her words. “Well, whatever, there's a knock at the door, Donna.”

“I'm not expecting anyone,” she said, frowning again. “Who is it?”

“What do I know?” the doll answered, shrugging.

“Cazzo… Dov’è il mio velo…?” the lady murmured nervously, searching for something on the table.

You put a hand on her shoulder and stood up with a smile.

“I'm coming, don't worry,” you said in a kind voice, making her nod with a weak smile.

“Thank you”

When you got to the door, your smile instantly vanished.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, crossing your arms when you saw your clone, your sister, dressed the same way as you with an almost furious look.

“It turns out that thanks to you I have become the new errand girl,” Ivana said with a cocky tone.

You raised your eyebrows, with a triumphant smile.

“It's a pain, huh?” you mocked. “I've been like that for years.”

“Yes, whatever you say…” your sister said, making an unpleasant gesture with her hand. “Mother gave me this for you.”

“Oh, cookies…” you said with a tender smile.

“Yes, she says she wants Lady Beneviento to try them,” Ivana commented, looking at her nails with disinterest.

“Okay, thanks,” you said, entering the house and closing the door, something you couldn't do, since your sister prevented it.

“Hey, you ungrateful witch, don't you know how much it cost me to get here?” she rebuked you, with a finger on your chest.

“What do I care?”

“You could give me a glass of water, at least,” Ivana protested, lowering her gaze.

“Ugh, fine,” you said sighing and shaking your head. “Stay there and, don't, touch, anything.”

“Whatever you say,” the young woman said, crossing her arms as you went up the stairs.

Grumbling and mumbling you went up to the bathroom on the top floor. You would go down to the kitchen for no reason. Your sister would do nothing but snoop around.

“Oh, there you are,” a familiar voice caught your attention, along with the unmistakable sound of heels.

You leaned over the railing, watching as the lady in black dangerously approached your sister, her face covered.

“Mm?” your twin murmured, blinking in disbelief when the brunette uncovered her face again. She seemed very, very nervous.

You wanted to intervene, but you didn't, you stayed glued to the railing with the glass in your hand, shaking more and more.

“Who was it?” Donna asked, getting a little closer to Ivana. “W-Well, it, it doesn't matter…”

“Um, I…” your twin stammered, surely surprised to see her face.

“W-Wait, let, let me tell you something…” the lady interrupted, moving her hand to reach your sister's, joining it with hers, interlacing their fingers. Ivana didn't move; she remained open-mouthed.

“Um, um…”

“I know it's crazy and I know your answer will probably break my heart, but I can't keep quiet about what I feel, (Y/N),” Donna whispered, making a great effort to speak.

You fidgeted nervously on the railing, a smile appearing on your face, a smile that hid the evidence of what was happening downstairs.

“I… I've, I've been alone all my life until… Until you showed up and… With you I feel, I feel like I wouldn't want to be alone again…” the lady continued, squeezing your sister's hand tighter. “I-I'm, I'm in love with you.”

Your jaw dropped at the same time as your sister's. You couldn't believe it, it was the happiest day of your life, was it?

“Y-You don't have to answer me now, but, but I would like, I would like...” the lady said, still nervous at the lack of response from the stunned Ivana. “I would like you to help me discover what love is... Together, next to you... What...? What do you say?” she whispered, caressing your sister's hair, her face pale from those words.

She gently pulled her, lightly placing her lips on your twin's, kissing her slowly.

That was too much for you.

Your hand became weak, dropping the glass on the floor, breaking it into a thousand pieces with an unpleasant sound that attracted the attention of the two women.

“Donna!” you shouted, rushing down the stairs. “Donna, wait, that's not...”

“W-W-What?” the lady stammered, blinking in confusion and letting your sister's waist go.

“Hey, I'm not (Y/N)…” Ivana said amused. “But if you share you money with me I'll be whoever you want…”

“What? You? You?” Donna said nervously, running a hand through her hair and breathing heavily, pointing at one of you each time. “You, you're not… You…”

“Donna, she's my sister,” you said, arriving at the hall in a hurry and pushing your twin away. “Are you an idiot? What are you up to?”

“Hey, hey, I didn't do anything,” Ivana protested amused and nervous. “It was her… Boy, (Y/N) you were so quiet about that.”

You growled, looking at the lady in black, who had a lost look on her face while her body suffered nervous spasms.

“You're…. You're… (Y/N)…” Donna stammered, unable to control her anxiety. “You… You're, you're…”

“Did I miss something?” your sister asked, frowning.

“Oh, you stupid moron…” you muttered, putting your hands on the brunette's shoulders.

Donna was unable to look at you.

“No… No!” she shrieked furiously, pushing you away as she ran off, kicking all the furniture in her path.

“Hey, wait!” you shrieked, chasing her.

“Sis, you're such a flirter,” Ivana mocked, laughing amused. “Who would have thought that a Lord was so stupid as to be interested in you?”

“Shut up,” you hissed as you held the brunette, who struggled against your grip, sobbing. “Donna…”

The lady apparently calmed down, looking at your sister with a furious eye and pushing you away again, walking hurriedly towards her.

“Hey, hey, hey, I didn't mean…” your sister said, running away from the doll maker, who was chasing her furiously. “Hey, I'm sorry…”

A dull thud silenced your twin's complaints. Angie, who had slipped among you, hit your sister with a piece of wood, leaving her unconscious.

“Right in the head,” the doll said, laughing sinisterly.

“Stronza…” Donna growled, approaching you twin’s unconscious body. “How dare you to fool me!?”

“Hey, Donna, wait, wait, leave her alone,” you said, grabbing her shoulders again. “It's not her fault, wait, please…”

“(Y/N)…” the lady sighed, changing from anger to sadness. “What have I done?”

“Eh, eh, it's okay…” you said, glancing at your sister. Of course, she was still alive. “You got confused, it's normal.”

“I, I made a fool of myself… (Y/N)…” she sobbed, throwing herself into the shelter of your arms as she lowered herself to the floor, burying her head in your chest. “I'm sorry!”

“Shhh, Donna…” you said in a comforting whisper, caressing her hair, kneeling. “I've heard everything…”

“I'm sorry…” she sobbed again, clinging to your dress. “You don't know how much I…”

Her apologies were silenced by a kiss, one from your lips, a bold, brave one, the first of your life, but not the last. It was a sudden and disastrous kiss, but it served to silence the sobs of the lady in black, who slowly pushed you away, calmer.

“Those things you said...” you murmured smiling, wiping away the tears of the brunette. “Do you really have feelings for me?”

“Yes,” she sighed. “Yes, (Y/N), I... I, I love you...”

“You know what? I've been wanting to hear you say it for so long, that I don't care that you said it to my sister,” you joked softly, cradling the sobbing lady in your arms.

“Cazzo...” she lamented again, burying her head further into her chest.

“I'm going to take my sister home and... When, when I get back I want us to... Well, talk about this... Maybe over dinner?”

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

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queenshelby · 7 months ago

Text

Our Little Secret (Part 59)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Infidelity, Age-Gap, Triggers, Smut

Her words lingered in your mind as you left the office, dazed, confused, and heartbroken. The short walk back to your car seemed like an eternity, as if the streets of Dublin had somehow elongated into a never-ending labyrinth of despair.

The moment you climbed into the driver's seat, the tears flowed freely, unleashing the torrent of emotions that had been mounting since your confrontation with Cillian.

This was a mess, for you and for Mara. You were determined to make things works for the sake of your daughter but felt at fault for now screwing it up by somehow leading Cillian to think that you were ready to forgive him.

You felt guilt for sleeping with him that night after a heated argument and now you had to deal with the consequences of his and your own emotional turmoil.

You cranked up the car and decided to head back to your mother's house for now, putting on a brave face to pick up Mara.

When you arrived at her house however, your mother immediately

noticed that something was wrong. She was a perceptive woman and knew you well enough to recognize when something was amiss. You tried to put on a smile and explain that everything was alright, but she wasn't convinced.

After a while, you finally decided to open up to her about what had happened with Cillian in counselling. You were hoping that she would have some words of wisdom to help you navigate this unexpected turn of events.

“He wants Mara three days a week and negotiate care during the times that he is away on an as needed basis through a mediator, prior to filming. This means Mara wouldn’t even have time with the both of us, together, as a family. This was what we have been working on so hard, just for him to throw it all away?” you told her, reading from his solicitor’s letter which explained, in detail, the proposed parenting plan and mediation document.

She listened quietly, then pulled you into a warm embrace. “He is hurting Y/N, but I have known him long enough to believe that he will come around again. He might just need some time and some distance from you ,” she whispered, rocking you gently.

You let out a heavy sigh, nodding in silent agreement. You knew she was right. Despite everything that had happened, you couldn't help but still care for him. You wanted nothing more than for the two of you to find a way to co-parent Mara peacefully and amicably, without the constant tension and hostility that had become the norm.

As mother and daughter released each other from their embrace, your mum placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “It will all work out and, until it does, just make sure Mara gets the one on one time with her father she needs. I made this mistake myself, alienating you from your father out of spite and anger, and I see how much it still affects you. Let's not repeat this. Mara will need her father and his love, as much as she needs you and yours, no matter what happens between the two of you.,” she said, her eyes filled with wisdom and understanding.

You looked at her, appreciating her words of wisdom more than ever. She was right. You needed to put your differences aside for the sake of Mara's well-being.

“I know and I have no problem with him spending time with her on his own, but I just wanted her to have a family union too rather than a mum at one house and a dad at another,” you explained, as you wiped away your tears.

“I know dear, but sometimes things don’t work out the way we want them to, and we need to find a way to make the best of it. It isn’t ideal, but it’s better than not having a relationship with her father at all,” she replied, soothingly.

After a few moments of silence, you composed yourself and prepared to leave with Mara as it was getting close to her bedtime already.

Surprisingly, she settled quiet easily that night even though your mother gave her more sweets than you would usually have approved of. Finding it hard to shake off thoughts of Cillian and the recent counseling session, you found yourself in Mara’s room, lying beside her, wishing for everything to be different.

As such, shortly after Mara went to sleep, you couldn’t help but pick up your phone and type a message to Cillian, hoping that he would change his mind.

The text read:

"Hey, I know you are angry with me but, can we talk about this please? I think it would be best if we could discuss everything openly and try to find a way to co-parent effectively without a mediator. It just seems sterile and I feel like the arrangement proposed by you is unsuitable for Mara."

It was a simple message, but you hoped it would convey the urgency you felt in finding an amicable solution, but Cillian’s response was sharp and to the point.

“I disagree, and I insist on mediation moving forward instead of counseling something that, clearly, cannot be fixed. I will pick Mara up at noon tomorrow as discussed,” he replied.

You pursed your lips, frustrated. He still remained firm on his decision despite your plea.

You sighed and let your fingers dance on the screen, “Alright then. Have it your way, but just remember that Mara is not a piece of possession to be traded from one house to another. She needs us both, working together and she is used to staying at my house overnight, so it will take some time to change this. She is still young Cillian.”

There was a pause, and you stared at the screen, praying for a reconsideration. But there was none.

Instead, Cillian replied with a single word. "Understood."

You sighed. It wasn't the response you were hoping for, but at least it was something. You knew that there was no point in trying to argue further and so, you decided to leave it at that. For now.

The next day, as promised, Cillian arrived at noon to pick up Mara. You both exchanged pleasantries but it was clear that the tension between you was still palpable.

Cillian's demeanour was distant, and his eyes barely met yours as he reached out to take Mara from your arms. You could feel the tears threatening to spill over again but fought them back, not wanting to create a scene in front of Mara.

With Mara, at least, he was genuinely warm and affectionate. He loved her more than life itself and she was excited to see him.

“Dada, Dada, Dada!” she exclaimed, her face lighting up as she caught sight of him. It tugged at your heartstrings to see how much she adored her father, even if the current situation was far from ideal.

As Cillian drove away with Mara, you found yourself alone in your house, feeling a mix of emotions but you kept yourself busy by cleaning and attending to various chores.

Then, before you knew it, it was dinner time and Cillian returned Mara to your care. Once she was settled in for the evening, you decided to take a long, hot shower to wash away the stress of the day.

You stood under the warm, pulsating water, letting it soothe your tense muscles and relax your mind. The silence was blissful, a brief respite from the chaos that had been your life as of late. As the water washed over you, your thoughts turned to Cillian, and you couldn't help but wonder what was going on in his mind.

What was he thinking?

Was he really okay with the mediator getting involved and handling all the communication between the two of you? It seemed so cold and emotionless to you, but you knew it was his way of coping with everything that had happened. You sighed, reaching for a towel to wrap around yourself as you stepped out of the shower.

You padded into your bedroom, your mind swirling with thoughts. You glanced at the clock and saw that it was already almost 10 pm. Mara would be waking up early again tomorrow, and you wanted to be well-rested for her.

So, you quickly dried off, slipped on your pajamas, and crawled into bed. As you closed your eyes, the day's events replayed through your mind.

The following morning, you woke up and scrolled your emails which is where it was, the first email from the mediator. It had been sent the day before but you never noticed.

In this email, he relayed that Cillian's solicitor had asked for Cillian to have Mara every Saturday, including nights, until filming was completed and seeing how he would fly home on a Friday afternoon and then fly back on Sundays, this wasn't entirely unreasonable.

Knowing it was best for Mara to see her father every week, you agreed to it and also proposed a weekly FaceTime call on Thursday nights, to facilitate communication and let Mara have some consistency in her schedule.

The mediator was pleased by your willingness to make this work and also proposed a weekly meeting, via Facetime, with you both to address any issues that may arise and to work on a parenting plan for when Cillian was back home.

You felt a small sense of relief as this arrangement seemed much better than what you had thought would happen, but you couldn't ignore the nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach. This all still felt like strangers stepping in and taking control of your lives, but you vowed to make it work for the sake of Mara.

The rest of the week was a blur. You spent your days focused on work, Mara, and your studies, avoiding any lingering thoughts about Cillian and Cillian did the same. He focused on work, filming the new Peaky Blinders movie and socializing with colleagues.

One of his colleagues was no other than Annabelle Wallis who had returned to play Grace Shelby, only ever present in Thomas Shelby's dreams and hallucinations. Cillian and her had a fair few scenes together and, unbeknownst to you, she had always taken a liking in him which ultimately was what led to numerous rumors of an affair between them while he was married to Danielle.

Annabelle was excited to work with Cillian again for reasons that were not just professional and throughout the entire week she would often initiate conversations with him, asking about you and Mara.

It was no secret on set that the relationship between you and Cillian was strained, especially not after the media fall out that came after the Oscars, and Annabelle was determined to take advantage of it.

As the days went by, Annabelle was always there, making sure she spent as much time as possible with Cillian, whether it was in front of the cameras or behind them. She would often make comments about your relationship, pretending to be there as a shoulder to lean on when he needed someone to talk, although mostly, Cillian remained silent when it came to his personal affairs.

"You know, if you ever need someone to vent to, I'm here, alright? I just went through a breakup myself and I know it can be hard," she said with a warm smile, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder after they wrapped up filming for the day.

"Thanks, Annabelle, but I'm fine. We're just working things out and that takes time," Cillian replied, but he felt a pang of guilt in admitting this to Annabelle.

"Don't you think that, maybe, this ship has sailed?" Annabelle asked, eyeing him skeptically. "I mean, I've seen the news. I've read the tabloids and last night you were really pissed off with her. I've heard you talking to Steve about it and it's just, I don't know...," she trailed off, letting her words hang in the air before continuing the conversation into a different direction. "Do you want to go for a drink? No talking, just relaxing and listening to some live music? It might help you relax and unwind before the early start tomorrow," Annabelle continued, sensing that Cillian needed an escape from the constant stress of his personal life and work.

Cillian hesitated for a moment before agreeing. "Alright, let's go. I could do with a pint," he said with a chuckle and so they spent the evening at a popular pub in town, enjoying a few drinks and chatting about everything except the elephant in the room - his broken relationship with you.

Annabelle seemed to instinctively know when to change the subject and Cillian found himself appreciating her efforts. She was a good listener, too, and seemed genuinely interested in his thoughts and opinions.

As they talked, Cillian felt himself relaxing for the first time in ages. It was as if a heavy weight had been lifted off of his shoulders and he could breathe and think clearly again. For a few hours, at least, he was able to forget about his troubles and focus on something other than his strained relationship with you.

When they finally emerged from the pub, many hours later, they were both feeling quite tipsy as they walked back to the apartment building in which the cast was staying. It was like a hotel of some sort, but without a bar on site.

"Would you care for a nightcap at my place?" she asked, giving him a suggestive look and, again, Cillian hesitated for a moment, his thoughts immediately going to the obvious and unspoken boundaries between them.

Annabelle sensed his reluctance and decided to press the issue, softly placing her hand on his forearm and looking him in the eyes. "Hey, no pressure, just a drink and some good conversation. I promise," she said with a smile.

He knew he shouldn't do it, but some part of him wanted to simply have some company. Besides, what could it hurt? It was just a drink, right?

"Alright," he nodded, following her up to her apartment even as his conscience screamed at him to rethink his decision.

Tags:

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#cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy #cillian murphy fic #cillianmurphy #annabelle wallis #cillian fanfic #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy fanfic

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scoobydoodean · 4 months ago

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Your thoughts on Amy are really interesting to me because when I was watching I'll admit I saw it as another tragic scenario that's often presented in the show. Like, she found a way to live her life with her son that wouldn't have her kill people (being a mortician) but when her son was sick she turned to desperate measures to save him. It's a sort of situation we see time and time again on the show. I'll admit I didn't quite pick up on the classist rhetoric going on in the episode and while I'm not entirely sure that was intentional by the writers it's definitely had me looking at this plot point in a new light. Dean killing Amy and its consequences has always been a really interesting narrative beat because while I ultimately don't fully agree with Dean's decision there, I totally see why he did it and understand his reasonings for it. Idk how many other fans feel the Amy conflict and the arc it has the brothers go through but I do think that at least at it's core it was an interesting one to explore even if it's execution of it left something to be desired for me

Sorry to ramble in your ask box but I seriously love your metas even when I don't always agree with your opinions 💜

If you don't mind a little rambling as well: I don't know that I'd say we see this same situation time and again. We have "Monsters Who Manage". For example, Lenore and her nest (2.03, 6.19). Benny. Garth and Bess. Sometimes those "monsters" feed again despite their best efforts (ex: Lenore in 6.19).

Amy isn't like any of them though. Sam seems to want to present Amy as an addict who relapsed (like Lenore), but that isn't what happened. She didn't feed on the brains of the people she killed. That was never her goal. She just had an opportunity to do something immoral to save her kid and she did it. In the end, her being a kitsune has almost nothing to do with her actions. A human parent could have done something very similar to save their own child. Imagine if your child needed a new heart and there was a long waiting list, so you went out and killed someone else and had their heart transplanted. That's more like what Amy did. Her kid got a food borne illness or infection. Normal human children get listeria and other dangerous food borne infections/illnesses. The only way in which Amy being a kitsune really impacts the situation is that it presented a unique solution to her child being sick that wouldn't be available to other parents (fresh pituitary glands). Her choosing to act on that opportunity just kind of shows that on some level, she does think of humans (at least "lower class" humans) as food.

At the same time, I do think Dean's actions go further than a moral difference with Sam. Dean is spiraling after the events of season 6. Cas lied and then died, and when it all went to shit, Death blamed Dean for everything and Dean crumpled under the weight of those expectations (we jump further into this in the following episode). It leaves Dean hyper-focused on not making a "mistake" again (for example, trusting someone he shouldn't have). At the same time, Dean's deeply depressed and suicidal (7.02), and his outlook on life and his own family is incredibly cynical when "The Girl Next Door" takes place. He says "the other shoe will drop" in regards to Sam because he doesn't have hope that anything could ever turn out right for their family. He repeats it in regards to Amy because people never change. Everyone is doomed to repeat their mistakes for all time (Dean's despair often looks like falling into the spiral of causality instead of remembering he can leap out of its flow). He also says "People are what they are", and I do think he's thinking about Cas at that point.

Amy mingled with humans and was a part of their world, but her actions showed she saw them as food on some level... and I think that Dean looks back at Cas and worries that he was a fool to ever think Cas was (for lack of a better word) human (or at least an ally to humanity who truly respected them as equals). In 6.22, Cas tells Dean they were never a family, and in 7.01, he follows that up by telling Dean he only ever saw him as a pet. He reinforced the traditional hierarchy where humans are lower creatures to monsters—food. And what has Dean been fighting all his life? Powerful creatures who believe their physical dominance gives them license exploit humans as food. When Dean tells Amy "people are who they are"... I do think he's thinking about Cas and the trust he had in that relationship that was deeply crushed. He's scared to trust anyone again because he trusted Cas so very much and now his world has been ripped apart. He doesn't trust Sam's judgement on Amy because he trusted Cas and that backfired spectacularly. He doesn't trust Amy not to do this again. Tbh I think he's right not to trust her because she has absolutely zero remorse of any kind at all whatsoever at any point. To me, that makes it quite apparent she'd be more than happy to do the same thing again if her kid was ever sick again. Hell—maybe even if she got sick. But it does go deeper than a moral clash for Dean. He's full of despair. At the same time, his actions also aren't as simple as dropping into the doom of "Monsters bad" because he doesn't kill Amy's son. Something Sam's never really grasped is that monsterhood has never been about physical characteristics to Dean. It's always been about actions. For Sam on the other hand, monsterhood has historically been more about physical characteristics (post here). I think this also plays a role in their feelings about Amy.

#mail #7.03 #season 7 #deans moral compass #amy #pk rewatches spn number ?#classism in spn

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yeotozaki · 20 days ago

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PATIENCE: Izzy Stradlin ( PART I)

Note: I wrote this based on something i read on reddit. There are mentions of pregnancy. So if you don't like these types of writings better not read it. Idk if this a y/n fic or not. i referred to her as his wife because i have no idea what to do. If you have any advice please leave a comment! I truly appreciate it. There may be grammatical mistakes because i never proofread (ik its a bad habit). I hope you guys enjoy it <3

There is a saying, 'opposites attract,' and Izzy Stradlin and his wife, were living proof of that. While he was the quiet, cold, aloof, reserved, closed off and serious type, she was the complete opposite, an extroverted ray of sunshine. He had a hard time expressing his feelings and his wife often found herself navigating his cold exterior but her patience and understanding slowly began to break down his walls. Together, they made a unique and sometimes comical pairing. But despite their differences, they found solace and love in each other's arms. The contrast between their personalities added to the dynamic that made their relationship so unique.

They started dating around 1982 and they got married in 1988. Izzy was never the type to want children, he wanted to be only with her, living a free and wild life. He didn't have a 'happy' childhood and he didn't want to repeat the mistakes his parents made.

"Izzy left for New York to perform a gig a day ago. Soon after his departure, his wife discovered she was pregnant, which was an unexpected turn in their life. She panicked, her mind racing with questions about how to tell Izzy, who had been adamantly against having children. How would she break the news to him? Her mind filled with anxiety and uncertainty about their future together. She paced back and forth in the living room, the sound of her footsteps echoing in the empty space. Her heart seemed to beat louder and louder with each step she took, the rush of blood in her ears drowning out the silence of the room. She felt as if she was deep underwater, struggling to catch her breath while the weight of the decision she had to make pressed down on her like a boulder. She finally summoned the courage to make the call. She picked up the phone, her hands shaking, and dialed the number of the hotel where he was staying. Her palms were slick with sweat as she held the receiver to her ear, the sound of the dial tone echoing in her brain like a warning bell. The anticipation and uncertainty of the moment weighed heavily on her, and she felt as if time itself seemed to slow down as she waited for him to pick up the phone. She knew she needed to tell him the truth, but the fear of his reaction held her back. As the phone rang, she took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. The ringing seemed to go on forever, each ring a torturous reminder of the uncertainty that lay ahead. She felt as if her heart was being squeezed in a vice, and she could hear her own breath coming in ragged gaspsr. Finally, she heard a click as he picked up the phone, and she braced herself for what was about to unfold.

"Good afternoon, how can I help you today?" A lady answered "Hello, is this the Plaza Hotel?" She asked "Yes it is ma'am. How can i help? " The receptionist replied "I'd like to place a call to room number 125." She says trying her best to hide her fear "Certainly, ma'am. Just give me a moment to connect you." The receptionist then transfers the call to Izzy's room. Once the connection is established, Izzy picks up the phone and answer his wife's call. "Hello?Izzy?" "hi babe!" he says happy to hear from his darling wife "I know its only been a day but i miss u so much darling, i can't wait to come back home to you" She chuckles, masking her fear, she was glad he was in a good mood "i miss you too hon" Her heart was beating so fast she felt like it was on the verge of jumping out of her chest. "what are you doing right now?" "I just came back from rehearsal with the guys. I'm just having some time alone. . Gotta compose myself before the gig yknow" "What time does the gig start ?" She was stalling "10pm..Why? You're planning to fly here last minute to see me?" He jokes "No..well, i wish that could be possible." She lets out a small chuckle " I was just curious" She wanted to get the news off of her chest. She takes a deep breath trying to calm herself down "Ummm...iz?" "Yeah darlin?" "I have some news...and well...its upto you to decide whether its good or bad news." He was confused "What kind of news is that? Tell me" He says filled with genuine curiosity. "umm..i-ummi'm..i'i uhh" She stutters. From hearing her stutters he could immediately tell something was wrong "Whats goin on darlin'? Tell me" "p-p-promise me you won't yell or lash out at me" "I promise sweetheart. Why do you sound so scared?" He asks, his voice filled with concern. She was shaking "Izzy..i'm-... i'm pregnant" she mumbles "What?" He says in a quiet voice, filled with shock. "You heard me.." "You sure?" He asks "Yeah i'm sure, i took the test multiple times" She confirms "Well this is unexpected" He sighs Honestly, he reacted way much better than what she expected "are you ok?" She asks "I'm just surprised...And disappointed. We should've been more careful that night" "mm i understand" She says in a relieved voice "Are you mad?" "No, i'm not mad. Yknow how i feel about having a family. I mean, I'm not cut off for this Parenthood bullshit" "Well, i mean, like i said its upto you to decide if its good or-" He cuts her off before she could finish "Honey, its not upto me, just" He lets out a huff "Just wait till i come back home. We need to talk ,this is not a small situation" "You're right...Just don't stress yourself out over this." "Don't worry i won't stress about it. Take care alright doll?" He says trying to reassure her. He knows she's worried. "Ok bye honey. I love you" "Bye beautiful, I love you too. Just take care of yourself ok?" He doesn't want her to think that he's mad. He loves her more than anything. "Bye" "Bye doll" He hangs up the call. He sits in the hotel room, the thought finally sinking in. HIS WIFE WAS CARRYING THEIR CHILD. But for some reason, it didn't feel as horrible or terrifying like he thought it would be. What if this was a chance for him to give this kid the childhood he never got?....

#izzy stradlin #izzy stradlin x reader #izzy stradlin fanfiction #jeffrey dean isbelle #gunsnroses #rockstars #rockstars girlfriend #fanfiction

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autistic-ben-tennyson · 9 months ago

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One thing I enjoy about DR is that it unintentionally or perhaps intentionally explores the legacy of a certain controversial character but one I enjoy and hope gets closure. Despite never being mentioned or seen, the story does seem to allude to this character which indicates they may eventually return. I’m of course talking about Harumi.

Take Beatrix for example. A white haired royal who hates the ninja, is incredibly immature and had the emperor assassinated so she could take power. The difference is that Beatrix is a pure evil dictator with no redeeming qualities, no soft spot for children and all of her intentions are purely self serving as opposed to misguided. She’s kind of a mix of Harumi’s backstory, Iron Baron’s cruelty towards dragons and had her rule challenged via broadcast message before being overthrown by ninja, civilians and dragons like Emperor Garmadon.

In DR, despite not being mentioned, we can see the impact Harumi has had upon Lloyd. While escaping from Imperium, Lloyd warns Wyldfyre to be more careful indicating he’s a bit more cautious about causing collateral damage during battles. In the opening of the show, we see Lloyd showing concern for Arin and promising to save his parents. I wonder if Lloyd ever saw Arin as his chance to prevent another Harumi. We see Lloyd trying to make Arin feel like a part of the family and giving him constant reassurance and warmth, something Harumi didn’t get much of. Ironically, he’s actually hurting Arin by giving him constant encouragement but never actually training him.

Then there’s Arin himself. Everything from losing his parents in a disaster to being a fan of the ninja feels intentionally familiar. The difference is that his parents are still alive which gives him reason to hold out hope that he can save them and he was able to find and befriend Sora instead of being forced into a position he doesn’t want. In season 2, things are changing for Arin and not for the better. While he enjoys being a ninja, he feels unhappy at having not progressed and feels his needs aren’t being met while Wyldfyre and Sora are growing stronger. Knowing how the FSM and Wu both failed their first student, I wonder if Lloyd will break the cycle or will end up repeating the mistakes with Arin. If Arin does have a villain arc or blames Lloyd for not saving his parents, how will Lloyd react especially considering DR Lloyd seems to have healed a bit from the trauma Harumi caused. DR is giving me a lot of feels. I really like how it feels both fresh but also familiar.

@iamsonormalaboutninjago

#ninjago #lego ninjago #ninjago dragons rising #ninjago arin #ninjago beatrix #empress beatrix #princess harumi #ninjago harumi #lloyd ninjago #lloyd garmadon #ninjago lloyd #harumi ninjago #harumi jade #arin ninjago

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xjulixred45x · 16 days ago

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Thank you for doing my ror Jack the Ripper x daughter reader. I loved it and was wondering if you could do a sequel set during ragnarok. Either daughter chearing on her father during his match and meeting afterwards or daughter being summoned alongside her father as the people who created the legend of Jack the Ripper and committed the crimes.

Hi! I'll try My Best

Jack the Ripper and Daughter Reader Pt2: Love?

Jack was unaware of love for much of his life. he knew that now.

And he was fine with that for a long time, he found certain forms of comfort, forms that others did not understand, abhorrent and unforgivable forms, but that gave him the closest feeling he would ever experience to euphoria, adrenaline, love.

Of course, until he met reader.

Even if Jack never thought about the future after what happened with his mother, he didn't really see himself worthy of being a father himself. After all, what could ensure that he wouldn't end up repeating the same mistakes? What if he didn't love his children the way he should? He couldn't imagine anything worse than that. However, the reader made a special place for herself in his life.

Jack felt something with the reader that he did not feel with many people, almost none, sympathy. From living in poverty to having a parent who didn't genuinely care about you. But above all, being unkown about affection. The love. This girl was never loved either.

In her he didn't simply see a daughter, he saw what he could have been if he had had what he longed for so much, love. For the same reason, he could not allow himself to stain his daughter's innocence with his “work”, with his customs, with him in general. He had to make sure this girl had everything he couldn't have, a prosperous life, an education, maybe a family of her own, a bright future that he wouldn't dim.

And he was proud of the lady she grew up to be, intelligent, gentle and educated. The only thing Jack really regretted in life was not having been able to live longer, to see what his daughter's life would be like in the future. will she have had children? any husband? It's not like anyone was worthy of her anyway, maybe she dedicated herself to studying? She was always very intelligent and observant, if times were different, he did not doubt that she would reach the most brilliant men of the time.

Unfortunately, there was no way for Jack to know about it. After all, it turns out that actions do have consequences, especially in death. He was in Helhaim for more years than he could count, completely deservedly so, but at least he was grateful that no matter how many years passed, Reader never appeared there, even if he missed her company, it was better that she was in the place she really was. deserved, away from him.

However, something changed one day. When the fate of all humanity depended on fighting the gods.

And the Valkyries couldn't think of a better idea than to use the most prolific assassin in history against the most worthy god. Good versus evil. God against human. Very interesting. However, already being in Valhalla, Jack had other priorities in mind.

Even if Jack had some preparation time before his round, they didn't give him permission to go find the reader (or even let her know he was there), because if the other souls in Valhalla knew about it they would probably be angry, hysterical even, plus they had to focus on the fight they would have. Which left Jack more distracted than usual until it was time to fight.

If there was one thing Jack hoped for, that he wanted with all his being at the moment the fight started, it was that Reader wasn't in the crowd. Don't come here, don't see me like that, don't see me for who I really am, stay with the memories we made together, but don't see the monster I hid from you for so many years...

However, you cannot control luck.

When Jack was leaving the arena after his victory, he felt the hatred of the people once again, the shouts, the insults, the looks of displeasure and disappointment, nothing new. Still, he was satisfied with the outcome of the fight, satisfied with his victory. It's not like he didn't deserve people's displeasure anyway.

Despite this, Jack was not prepared for what awaited him on the other side of the stands.

As soon as he set foot in the infirmary, being treated for his injuries, Jack could hear the door open. At first he thought it was one of the Valkyries or a doctor, but as soon as he looked up, he could feel his hands shaking and his eyes widening like never before. She was there.

It seemed that she had not aged a day since the moment he died, being a lady, an adult, however, her eyes betrayed the girl he had known. She was no better than him, she was gripping the skirt of her dress very tightly, and trying very hard to keep her head up. she blinked a lot, trying not to cry in front of him. Not now.

He was going to say something, he had to say something, maybe a “I'm sorry” or “forgive me” but before he knew it, his daughter rushed at him in a golden rush, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. Jack could feel himself almost crumbling inside as he heard his daughter sobbing against his shoulder, tears threatening to fall from his eyes as well, as he gently returned the hug.

He and the reader sometimes could not communicate their emotions well, even with his special eyes, Jack could not know exactly what the reader felt at times, so she resorted to these types of displays of affection or physical actions, ways of saying what What was happening, no talking, just actions.

And now, almost two centuries later, that same custom remains, while Jack hugged his daughter, a hug that he waited years to be able to give, that he understood again the message she wanted to convey to him.

I don't care what you did, I don't care what you think, you are my father, I am your daughter. I love you.

And that was all he needed.

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

#drabble #fem reader #jack the ripper #ror jack the ripper #snv jack the ripper #platonic reader #shuumatsu no valkyrie #shuumatsu no walkure #shuumatsu no valkirye #shuumatsu no valkirye x reader #record of ragnarok #record of ragnorak #record of ragnarok x reader #ror x reader #snv x reader #ror #snv #oneshot

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presidenthades · 4 months ago

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Congrats on you visit to comic con and I hope you passed a great time!!!! I read the last comment of Criston and I just got wondering about the childhood of all the kids and a question arose. Do Corlys and Viserys compete as the favorite grandpa, both seem as the type of wanting to be the favorite grandpa!!! And then great-grandpa to future King Elenar.

Here are some other posts about Grandpa Corlys and Grandpa Viserys in case those are of interest.

I think Corlys is one of those people who’s better at being a grandparent than a parent. He’s very tough on Laenor in S1 (and he’s even worse to the Hull boys in S2). Corlys has high expectations of his progeny so that they uphold his legacy and their house’s legacy.

In contrast, he has a soft spot for Lucerys. At first I think it’s because Corlys’s grandkids just need to be well-behaved cuties while they’re little, which is easy for them to do. When they get older, that might be when he gets tougher—but I also think the death of Corlys’s kids changes him a lot. His grief for Laenor and Laena drives him to the Stepstones again, and I imagine he regrets the way he treated them sometimes. So he might try not to repeat the same mistakes with his grandkids.

When the Velargirls are younger, it’s easy for Corlys to be an indulgent grandpa. Jace always strives to be the perfect heir that people expect, Luce is a cutie pie who reminds Corlys of his own kids when they were little, and Joff is…Joff. 😅 Corlys and Rhaenys make frequent trips to visit their granddaughters, and what kid doesn’t love getting tons of presents from their grandparents? I also imply in Compromise that the Velargirls periodically stay at Driftmark, like a sort of fun family vacation. If Corlys and Viserys are competing to be the favorite grandpa, Corlys is pretty confident he’s winning.

Viserys also thinks he’s winning, but that’s because he’s complacent from living in close proximity to his granddaughters on a daily basis. Of course he’s the favorite grandpa! He sees them almost every day! He also gives them lots of presents, but his strategy is something like “of course the girls will love these super expensive gowns, every girl loves gowns” and “let’s give the girls a bunch of sweets today, kids love sweets.”

But the Velargirls notice he treats his own kids very differently. Jace has definitely dealt with Aegon’s moods and daddy issues quite a bit. Luce is sometimes deliberately obtuse to familial tensions, but she registers it on a subconscious level. Joff is, as always, perspicacious beyond her age. So even though the girls enjoy being indulged by Viserys, they have this knowledge in the backs of their minds.

As for Elenar…I think it’d be hilarious if Otto somehow sneaked in and managed to be his favorite great-gramps.

#my writing #ask me anything #viserys targaryen #corlys velaryon #Velargirls

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maggotfurby · 8 days ago

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Crazy Caryn

(Original Version)

Written by MaggotFurby

Human beings. We are different and unique from one another. Some with greater standards, others most unfortunate… But deep down, the human race often handles the primal instinct within, withholding the satisfaction of unwanted thoughts and actions.

The majority, keep to themselves and carry on with their normal lives ahead, the other side of the spectrum…people are monsters. Greed, abuse, abandonment, murder, and personal gain is what makes the world harder at every passing day.

Unrealistic expectations take the cake when a person wasted eight years of their life to achieve something greater, only to be in massive debt and not get the desired career they once hoped. Or wanted a stable relationship through their relatives and loved ones, only left with broken emotions.

Ones who wanted to have a bright future, end up in a repeating cycle of dead-end 9-5’s, barely making salaries to stay afloat.

Life in general isn't what it would seem from exiting childhood, especially from the view of a certain individual.

Caryn Trevers didn't have a decent life from the start, her parents divorced when she was a toddler, and lived most of her childhood with her so-called “father”. Her father was a hopeless romantic. He kept failing at every single relationship he's been through since the divorce, only leaving Caryn to be forced to move constantly back and forth to different places. Lost friends along the way from his idiotic actions.

When the relationships tend to fail, she got blamed for it. Belittled and shamed.

His former girlfriends only used her father for financial gain or emotional targets that put Caryn through it all. Make matters worse for her, she was diagnosed with high functioning ASD when she was six years old. Her incapability to recognize certain emotions and struggle of normal interaction made everything difficult for her. Made her socially awkward, but seemed unique to some people who actually gave her a chance to get to know her. She's highly intelligent despite her condition. Whenever she gets too enthusiastic and too upset, her arms tend to slightly twitch as one of the symptoms of her neurological disorder.

Which made her life at school a living Hell, especially middle school in particular. Bullies mocked her small twitches and her interests; one of them was marveling at insects. Moths struck her the most, and saw the beauty of the species from her point of view.

She saved a Luna moth one day when she found it lying on the sidewalk alongside the school library. She carefully picked up the bright green and fuschia beauty, and placed it on a small tree nearby so it can rest on its final moments. Never wanted for it to be crushed by someone by mistake or by her selfish bullies.

Fact: butterflies and moths only live between two to three weeks in adulthood, sad but true.

At that moment, she felt peace.

Wished it would last forever, Caryn thought to herself before things went to complete shit again. The constant change of schools from moving made her more isolated than before, and dealt with her father’s anger issues.

Her orange tabby cat was her only friend through it all …until one day he sadly died by being brutally attacked by a loose pitbull when the cat ran outside from one of her former homes by accident. His death further fractured Caryn's emotional state as she silently cried every night since the unfortunate death.

The unnecessary moving went on for years until they finally settled on an apartment which her father could afford. Caryn, now in her early twenties, was used to the heavy lifting and arranging furniture around at that point. Her condition slightly got better since she contained her emotions inside but in an unhealthy way.

Her internal hatred towards her father grew as he, as you expected, went through relationships again… luckily didn't have to move.

Caryn didn't finish high school back then due to being taken out through that imbecile's poor decisions. She had to get a job at a restaurant but quit a year later. Due to her being emotionally, verbally, and mentally abused at work; her father was oblivious to it. She was a cashier, and dealt with the worst kind of people imaginable. Dumbasses, entitled brats, aggressors, and liars. She got the blame for everything from her former boss. Caryn had to keep her condition a secret at work so she would not be let go. The job she was at was strict about special needs employees and they didn't get paid as much as normal functioning employees did.

No matter how hard Caryn tried to step up the working ladder and get into a better position, ended up falling down. Over and over, and over again… her pay cut shorter and shorter.

She knew her former boss did it out of spite because she asked that she wanted a higher pay because rent’s got more expensive. Instead, her work days from five, got reduced to three. Five hour shifts, reduced to three hours.

Since then, Caryn was staring blankly up at the ceiling. Her vision blurry from countless, restless nights from her once grinding job.

She was home alone at that point in time. She laid on her bed, continued staring up at the ceiling, then she curled up into a fetal position as she buried her face into the bed cover. Cried loudly in anguish as her screams were being muffled by the thick cloth underneath. The repeated painful actions of being verbally abused by the selfish customers constantly took a toll on her, making her quit for that reason as mentioned before.

Her muscles ached and sore, her arms tired out, her legs in numbing pain from the constant walking back and forth from home to her job. She didn't have a car because she was flat broke and couldn't afford lessons at the DMV.

Caryn knew for herself that she's not going anywhere in life…the vivid painful memories stuck to her, repeating on loop inside her head. Her short-long, messy hair tangled by the cheap elastic bands she was forced to wear from her former job. The pain of tearing them out from her head was consistent. The ongoing stinging of pain as pieces of her strawberry-blonde colored strands ripped out and stuck on the twisted rubber knots.

As she was done tearing them out from her skull, she slowly looked up at the mirror, saw her unwanted appearance. Her sleep deprived eyes looked back at her, her greenish light brown eyes shined red from the tears. Nearly bloodshot. Her skin was paler than before, once a peachy tone, now a ghostly pale palette from the stress and lack of certain vitamin intake.

Her thin lips almost disappeared along her complexion. Mouth dry and chapped.

Later that night, Caryn got scolded at again by her father when one his dates came by and made an excuse to leave early for obvious reasons.

Hours later, her father passed out drunk on the couch, his obnoxious snoring made her incredibly angered as she was trying to sleep. The walls were thin because the apartment was poorly built, so she quietly went off. grabbed her denim purple coat, put it over her raggedy black t-shirt with black jean pants along to match.

The cold air hit against her as late evening arrived.

She walked away from the dingy apartment complex and stepped into the backwoods. It was a shortcut to the local small pub, ten to fifteen minutes by walking to the destination. She could smell the wings from afar being freshly made, her stomach loudly growled as she didn't eat all day. The crunch of the dry leaves were her only comfort sound along with the owls hooting and crickets chirping surrounded her.

But strangely, she felt like something…or someone was watching her from far away. She turned her head over shoulder to look but nothing was there.

“Damn…my head’s messing with me again” she said to herself as she continued walking down the path.

She finally arrived at her destination, the pub wasn't as busy as before when she visited last.

“Hey, kid. you look like you're starvin’. How about I whip up your usual?” the friendly barkeep happily shouted as he made a beckoning hand gesture.

“Hey, Marty…slow night, huh? Caryn said tiredly but brought up a warm smile.

“Yeah, Wednesdays are usually slow but at least it's not like Saturdays, those college frat punks always make a mess on my property… always love cleaning up after their mess” Marty said sarcastically along with a laugh

As he finished his sentence, he gave Caryn a fresh small basket of extra hot buffalo wings with blue cheese on the side and extra fries as a complimentary extra from Marty.

Marty while filling up Caryn's usual beverage, root beer, he stated “I'm still quite surprised you ain't afraid of walkin’ those woods at night…heard rumors people gettin’ missing on the daily”.

“Missing?” Caryn replied

“Yeah, like some UFO or alien be snatching those poor folk outta nowhere. Some paranoid nutcase came by one night claimin’ he saw some tall dude who was taller than a small buildin’. Sayin’ he had no face…geez, what kind of drugs these kids are getting into?" Marty said as he carefully placed her drink next to her food.

“Trust me, I encountered them a lot.” Caryn jokingly remarked and Marty chuckled along with her.

“Indeed, and sorry to hear about what happened…you've been through Hell and back, kid” Marty said in a slightly saddened tone.

Caryn shrugged a bit “No worries, Marty. I'll find another job somehow…”

“That's the spirit, kid. When I was your age, I strived and fought my way through many obstacles and here I am, owning this beauty here for thirty-five n’ countin’.” Marty pats on her shoulder, congratulating for her positive response.

After finishing up her meal, she reached to pocket to pay but Marty stopped her “Hey, kid. Ya had a rough week, how about I cover ya for tonight?” Marty insisted.

Caryn was flattered and enjoyed her free meal from Marty.

An hour passed, she said her farewells to Marty as she walked on back to the path back to the apartment. This time, the feeling became stronger but she ignored it as she claimed to herself that her head was playing tricks again from lack of sleep.

She got back and silently opened the door, her father still passed out on the couch. She slowly shaked her head and walked past him. The look of anger and disappointment on her face as she cringed by his presence. The smell of hard liquor fumigated the living room.

She went inside her room, messy but clothes were well kept in her dresser drawer. Her purple bed laid aside the wall next to the small window where the pale moonlight gleamed through the dusty glass pane.

On her bed, was a pink stuffed bear her mother gave to her when she was ten years old, the last time she ever saw her…

Not only was her father a drunk and hopeless romantic, he showed his abusive side toward her mother in the past. He threatened to falsey press charges against her mother and labeled her as a bad parent on occasion. When in reality, she was the sweetest person you would ever meet.

She went away out of fear, which Caryn slowly learned over time about the truth.

Which sickened her even more.

She got back into bed, and looked at the window for a brief moment before she slowly drifted off to sleep.

The dream…was you might expect from her.

Dreamt she was choking and strangling her father to death in the middle of the woods, while having a look of bliss and enjoyment on her face. Caryn always dreamt of it, almost every…single…night.

But the dream was different, after she did the deed, a male figure watched her from a distance. She couldn't tell who or what was standing there. It wasn't the tall figure like Marty had mentioned before. Instead, a brown hooded figure. He wore a pair of amber colored goggles, mostly covering his eyes and part of his forehead with shaggy brown hair. He was wearing a face guard, looked to be cloth, and looked to have a snowy pale face underneath.

He watched on at her, then turned around and walked away, while twitching and slightly ticking…

Caryn woke up abruptly in a cold sweat from the dream and gazed at the window across from her… The window was opened, not too opened for someone to creep into but wide enough to push something through it.

Caryn got up and slowly walked over to see what's lying before her above the window to the floor below it.

There laid a machete…

The blade was short but new and sharp to the edge, the handle fitted well with her tight grip.

She looked at the window once more, the woods across the apartment complex, there's a tall ominous figure. Lurked between the trees surrounding him.

Caryn couldn't make out his face from far away, if he ever had one.

Loud ringing pierced through her ears, an unbearable headache swelled up her mind. She looked away immediately and the pain ceased, the ringing slowly faded.

Machete still in her grip…the inner desire she kept inside her for so long had quickly been brought up. The burning hatred boiling within her veins tensed as it made her grip tighter to the newly equipped weapon.

Her expression went from confusion to…oddly calm and content

It's like calling out to her, letting her finish what she couldn't do before. Her eyes looked at the blade and then looked back at the window before turning around and leaving her room.

Her father slowly tried to get up from his drunken slumber…but instantly met his end when his head got cleaned off from the neck from his once daughter of his. The machete sliced through like warm butter from the dish. She never felt anything better… The flesh sliced through cleanly, without leaving any rough edges as blood gushed out from the severed neck like a broken water fountain.

She cleaned up the gorey mess she caused and threw away his decapitated head to the local lake; earlier, she dragged his oversized body to the place where it was being buried.

The head submerged to the lake, the body buried six feet deep as she carried a shovel along with her.

Her father used to work with landscaping before he got fired and became an alcoholic.

After she did what she had to do, she sat by the lake, being relaxed and at peace. For the first time in years. Until…She felt an eerie but calm presence standing behind her. A tall, dark shadow loomed over her as a pale white boney hand laid comfortably on her left shoulder. But she didn't mind the unexpected visit…

She's just glad the torture…is finally over.

#slenderman #creepypasta #ticci toby

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