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loveesiren · 2 days ago

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Champagne & Sunshine (Pt.1)

JJ Maybank x Reader

Synopsis: Y/n celebrates six months in the OBX with her best friend JJ and the rest of the Pogues. Although Kiara isn't overly happy about it.

Warnings: Alcohol, language

Word Count: 3.8k+

Y/N's POV:

You pulled up to the beach in your dad's '95 Benz Truck. The one you had just inherited for your birthday. Your dad offered to buy you a new car but you wanted this one. It was your favorite.

"There's Barbie!" You hear JJ holler as you get out of the car.

You smile, holding up two bottles of champagne. You swayed you hips, your long hair draped over your shoulder. JJ was practically drooling at the sight of you in your booty shorts and crop top, belly ring dazzling in the sunlight.

"Well if it isn't miss Kylie Jenner, ladies and gentlemen." Kiara scoffs.

"Good to see you too, Kie." You smile at her. You didn't hate Kiara. But she had a thing for JJ and it was quite literally impossible for JJ to focus on anything else when he was in your presence. You remained friendly to her. You were friendly to everyone.

"What's the special occasion, mama?" JJ asks as you approach him and wrap your arms around him. He grabs your hips and pulls you into him, his arms snaking around your lower back as he takes in your scent.

"I've officially been in the OBX for 6 months and I've made some amazing friends!" You say happily.

"Weren't you like the Kook Queen of LA? How'd you even end up with us again?" Pope asks playfully.

"Cuz this one here wouldn't leave me alone," You chuckle, pointing to JJ.

"I'm sorry, am I supposed to not be obsessed with you?" JJ smiles.

You can feel Kie rolling her eyes but you couldn't care less.

"I don't think stalking the new girl and somehow managing to fall flat on your face every time she speaks to you is the best method to getting the girl." Pope laughs.

"She's here isn't she?" JJ says, motioning to you standing right beside him.

You laugh at their exchange. "Here," You hand Pope a bottle of champagne. "I have more in the cooler," You motion to the G-Wagon. "JJ, help me out?"

"Anything for you, m'lady." He says, following you closely back to your car. You open the trunk and JJ grabs the cooler. You grab some towels and walk back over to where everyone sat on the beach.

You lay a towel down a bit further from wherever else sat and you and JJ sat down.

"There she blows!" JJ said as he popped off the cork to the champagne. You giggled as some of it spilled onto your tan skin. "Ladies first," He says, offering you the bottle.

"Such a gentlemen," You tease before pressing the bottle to your lips and taking a sip.

JJ watched you, smile wide on his face.

"Hey, if you're sick of being hit on by the Kook Klan you can come slum it with the Pogues."

You turn around to see a shaggy haired blonde boy smiling widely at you. You return a smile. "Pogues?"

"Yeah, ya know, we aren't all rich and pretentious like those ones," He nods towards Rafe and Topper, the two boys who had been on your tail all night. "But we know how to have a good time."

"Uhm, yeah, that sounds good. Kind of sick of hearing about golf." You chuckle.

"Well you're in luck, Princess! All we do is surf."

"I love surfing!" You say excitedly. "I haven't been out here yet."

"A woman after my own heart." He smiles. "I'm JJ."

"Y/N," You respond, offering your hand.

"Come on, I'll introduce you to the Pogue life!" JJ says as he throws his arm around your neck and guides you down to a small fire his friends were sitting around. "Guys, this is Y/N! Y/N, this is John B, Pope, Kie, and Sarah. Sarah is Rafe's sister but she's way cooler."

"Hey guys!" You say sweetly. Everyone offers you a smile, Kie's smile was less that genuine but you didn't let it bother you.

"Holy shit, where are you from and why did you follow JJ over here?" Pope asks jokingly as he takes in your features.

Your long hair extensions, bright pink claws, your mini skirt and heels, you were obviously not from the Outer Banks and you were definitely not a Pogue.

"California! Calabasas." You smile. "You guys seem cooler than those douche bags." You laugh, turning and pointing to Rafe and Topper who were glaring in your direction.

"So sorry you had to be subjected to my brother and my ex," Sarah giggled. "They are both douchebags."

You laughed. "Yeah, I gathered that almost immediately."

You and JJ sat down. "So, Y/N, you surf?" John B asks, almost expecting you to say no. You were nice, but you definitely seemed like you'd rather spend a day at the mall than on the water.

"Yep!" You say, shocking everyone. "Used to go every day back home."

"Think you can keep up here?" JJ teased.

You turn to look at him with a flirty smile. "Barbie, eat your heart out."

Ever since you and JJ met that night, he'd been head over heels for you. You grew incredibly close to him and his friends. You'd spend your days surfing, absolutely schooling them almost every time. Days out on the Pogue, fishing and drinking. It was a whole different life than you were used to and you couldn't be happier. Truth was, you had it bad for JJ too, but you loved teasing him.

You laid down in JJ's lap, letting the sun kiss your bronze skin. He twirled your hair around in his finger. "Did you get new extensions?" He asked.

"Yeah, it was about damn time. Mine were so grown out."

"So soft..." JJ mutters as he works on braiding a small part of your hair.

"Want me to get you some extensions, J?" You giggle.

"Absolutely," He chuckles.

You take another sip of champagne before reaching your hand up and stroking your nails down JJ's leg. You could feel goosebumps form on his skin under your touch and you smiled.

It had been six months of dancing around the obvious with JJ. The way he was constantly hanging all over you, making you laugh. The way his eyes lit up when you entered the room. The way he'd stumble over his words whenever you offered a flirtatious remark.

And your actions didn't go unnoticed either. The way your long legs were always draped over his lap. The way you beamed up at him when he was goofing off. The way you blushed whenever he called you Barbie or Princess.

Never in a million years did the island of Kildare think they'd see what could be the sixth Kardashian sister pine over a "loser" like JJ Maybank but that's exactly what happened. No one ever made you feel so happy and free like JJ Maybank did.

The Pogues were happy for you both, well, except for Kiara. She was civil, but her jealousy was obvious. The Kooks, well, the Kooks hated it. Whenever they got a minute alone with you at a party they'd talk shit on JJ and your friends, saying you're too good for them. You'd just scoff and go find your best friend, grinding against him and hanging on his neck while you looked them dead in the eyes. You left your fake, pretentious friends back in Calabasas. When you moved here and met the Pogues, you became a whole new person. You finally felt like you belonged.

"Are we gonna surf or what?" Kiara asked, eyeing you and JJ being overly friendly.

"Hell yeah we're gonna surf!" You shoot up, running to your car and grabbing your board.

The waves were fierce today and you were the first one in the water, catching the first wave immediately and riding it out perfectly before the others could even catch up.

"She's way too good at this. I still can barely stand." Sarah says to Kie and John B.

"Yeah, when we first met her I thought there was no way she could keep up." John B replies, watching you ride out another wave.

"She's not that great," Kie scoffs.

"Come on, Kie. I know you've had a thing for JJ but Y/N is cool! And JJ seems happy, that's what's important right?" Sarah says.

Kie watches as you and JJ take on a wave together. She chews on her lip, admiring the boy she'd been in love with for so long. But Sarah was right, JJ really was happy. Happier than he'd ever been since you came into their lives.

"I am happy for him. I just wish she wasn't the only thing he cared about." Kie responds.

"He still cares about you, Kie. About all of us. He's just...he's never had...that." John B says, motioning to you. JJ had some hook ups, of course, but he'd never had a girl that was so obviously into him the way he was in her, even if they still were too shy to admit it.

"Just didn't think he'd fall for a girl like her," Kie says quietly before paddling out into the water.

After a long day of surfing, and finally helping Sarah ride out a full wave, you headed back to the Chateau.

"You did so good, Sarah!" You say, clanking your glass to hers before slurping down more champagne.

"I literally cannot believe I did that," She chuckles. "Thanks for teaching me."

"Any time babes!" You says, swimming over to her and kissing her on the cheek.

John B and Sarah sit across from you and JJ in the hot tub, the champagne coursing through your veins was obvious as you and JJ got more and more touchy, as you always did when the liquid courage took over.

Kie and Pope sat in the lawn chairs just outside the hot tub.

Kie watched as you sang the lyrics of Champagne and Sunshine, clinging to JJ as you did. The way his face lit up at the way you smiled made her frown.

"I'm sorry, Kie." Pope said, placing a hand on her knee.

"What does he see in her?"

"I don't know, I mean, she's goofy like him. She surfs. She's always happy-"

"Not helping, Pope." Kie cuts him off. Kiara had trouble seeing past the fake hair, fake nails, and fake lashes. As if those things meant your personality was fake. But you weren't fake. You were nothing but kind to everyone you met. Your feelings for JJ were genuine. You were more than happy to be a "Pogue". Even if you looked like a Kook, you wanted nothing to do with that side of the island.

"Sorry," Pope says. "I just mean, I think she's a good match for JJ. And I know that's not what you want to hear but he's happy. And you'll be happy too."

Kiara offers a small smile and nods.

"If it were me, I know who'd I choose." Pope says.

Kiara looks up at him with wide eyes. Pope offers a sympathetic smile and Kie quickly looks away, hiding the pink that was spreading across her cheeks.

You were all tipsy, laughing and singing along to the music. JJ's hand squeezed your hip as he brought a lighter to the joint between his lips.

You straddled his lap and he looked up at you with wide eyes. "Hey, princess!" He says, really enjoying the feeling of your clothed pussy hovering just above his member.

You looked down at the blue eyes you'd fallen so madly in love with. You smile and take the joint from between his lips. You bring it to yours and inhale deeply before passing it off to John B without taking your eyes of JJ's.

You smile, placing your hands softly on either side of JJ's jawline and pull his lips to yours, exhaling the smoke into his mouth. He inhales as he grabs the back of your neck and pulls you into him.

Your lips lock together and you can feel the electricity course through your body. Six long months of waiting for this moment. Six months of falling head over heels for your best friend.

His lips were soft, the kiss was gentle, but hungry. You could tell he'd been waiting for this minute for as long as you had.

The world disappeared around you as his tongue slipped into your mouth. Yours danced with his as you felt his arm grip your waist tighter and his fingers gently pulled at your hair.

"Ow! Ow!"

"Fucking finally!"

You smile against JJ's lips as you hear your friends holler around you. You flip them off as you continue lose yourself in the one man that's ever made you feel at home.

You don't notice Kiara storming off into the Chateau and Pope following her.

"Shit," You hear Sarah whisper.

You pull back slightly and and lock eyes with JJ, biting your lip as you try to contain your smile.

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting for that." JJ chuckles.

"I think I might have an idea," You tease, leaning into him and wrapping your arms around him, burying your face in his neck.

JJ places kisses along your neck and shoulder. You could feel him smile against your skin.

JJ's POV:

I can feel her smiling against my neck. Did that really just happen? I thought to myself. My absolute dream girl was clinging to me as tightly as I clung to her. Pinch me, I must be dreaming.

"You're so perfect." I mumble against her skin.

She chuckles and leans back, her Y/E/C eyes studying my face. "Shut up," She teases. I smile and bring both my hands to her hips, brushing my thumb over skin as I looked up at her. I think I'm fucking in love.

"Hey guys," John B's voice ruins the moment.

"What?" I ask, not taking my eyes off Y/N.

"Uh, don't get me wrong. I love this for you guys. But I think Kiara is upset."

Y/N's expression changes as she slides off my lap and moves away. The loss of her touch left me feeling cold even though I was immersed in the hot water.

I groan under my breath. I didn't want it to seem like I didn't care about Kie but I didn't have those feelings for her. Y/N was everything I've ever wanted. And Y/N was far too sweet. If Kie was uncomfortable, of course she was going to back off.

"I'll go talk to her," I say, hopping out of the hot tub and placing a kiss on Y/N's temple.

I see Kie and Pope on the couch when I enter the Chateau. "Kie, can we talk?" Kie looks up at me with tear stricken eyes. "Pope, scram!" I say as I sit on the coffee table across from Kiara. Pope does as he's told. "Kie, what's going on?" I ask, taking her chin and forcing her to look at me.

"Doesn't matter, JJ." She said sourly.

"It does matter! You're my best friend. Why are you upset?"

"Just go back to your valley girl," She mutters. I clench my jaw. Kiara was constantly judging Y/N for not being Pogue material. She'd never taken the time to get to know her.

"Why do you hate her?" I ask, standing up from the table and walking around the room. "What has she done to you?"

"I don't hate her JJ," Kiara begins. "I just...she's not a real Pogue! She's fake as fuck!"

"Fake hair doesn't make her fake, Kiara. You haven't even tried to be her friend."

Kiara just scoffs and rolls her eyes.

"Look Kie," I sigh. "I love you. You're my best friend, okay? But I really, really like Y/N. It would mean a lot to me if you could get along with her. She's nothing but nice to you."

Kiara purses her lips and nods as she stares at the ground. "I don't think that's going to happen."

Y/N's POV:

"Fuck, I feel bad." You say, grinding your acrylic nail between your teeth.

"Don't feel bad, Y/N. JJ is obsessed with you, and it's obvious you're into him too. You guys deserve to be happy." Sarah reassures you.

"Kie's never liked me. I feel like I just came in and fucked everything up."

"You didn't," John B says. "JJ's never been happier. We all love having you around. Kie will come around in time."

JJ and Kie come out of the Chateau. They both looked unhappy and it made your stomach turn. JJ came over to you and pressed his lips to your ear. "Can we go to your place?" He asked.

JJ stayed at your house often. It wasn't a weird request. But you could tell something wasn't right in his voice.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course." You say as you climb out of the hot tub. You dry yourself off with your towel and grab your bag. "We'll catch you guys tomorrow!" You say as you and JJ start towards your car.

"Hope she's still pretty when you fuck all the fake off her!" A tipsy Kiara yells after you. You and JJ stop in your tracks. You'd been nothing but nice to Kiara since the night you met her. You tried to be her friend and she always shrugged you off. You were honestly sick of it.

You turn on your heel and start back towards her. "What the hell is your problem, Kiara?!" You spit.

"I just think JJ deserves better than some Malibu Barbie who will turn on him as soon as shit gets hard." She hisses back.

"You don't fucking know me!" You yell. "You've made no effort in getting to know me! Everyone else seems to like me. I've never given you a reason to fucking hate me aside from the fact that you're obsessed with JJ and he doesn't feel the same towards you!"

She scrunches up her face at your words.

You'd been nice for too long and you could feel the California version of yourself coming out. You approach her calmly as you cross your arms over your chest. You lean towards her, tongue sliding across your bottom lip. "You can hate me all you want. That won't stop JJ from absolutely losing himself inside me tonight." You whisper with a smile.

You chuckle before turning around and heading back to your car. You hop in the driver's seat. You watch as everyone is silent. JJ stares at Kiara for a moment, you can see her trying to hold back tears. JJ shakes his head at her before turning and climbing into your car.

The car ride was silent as you headed towards Figure Eight. You couldn't help but start to feel guilty the longer you drove. You didn't want to hurt Kiara. You were just so fed up with her treating you this way.

"Hey you two!" Your mom gushes as you and JJ walk into the kitchen.

"Hey mom!" You say.

"Hey, Mrs. Y/L/N!" JJ says.

"Are you guys hungry? I made pizza!"

You and JJ exchange a glance. Neither of you really had an appetite after what just happened. "Maybe later," You say. "We're gonna go watch a movie."

"Okay, Sweetie. Your father and I are meeting some friends at the club. We'll be home later."

"Sounds good!" You say, dragging JJ up the stairs to your room.

Your parents loved JJ. Back in California there were no Kooks or Pogues. Your mom and dad grew up working for everything they have now. They were the last people to judge. They knew about JJ's home life and insisted he stay at your house whenever he needed. He was nothing but respectful to your parents and your little sister, Marley.

Your parents were rich and boujee and well respected but as soon as they got home and kicked off their designer clothes, they were stoners at heart. You came from a long line of hippies. Your parents wouldn't forget that. However, they still loved life's luxuries and wanted the best for you and Marley, so they put on a Kook front for the new island you now called home.

Once you and JJ were in your room, he flopped onto your bed and groaned.

"Look, I'm sorry for what I said to Kie. I-"

"Don't be sorry, Y/N." JJ said. "She's been such a bitch to you since you moved here. I don't blame you for getting upset."

"Still. I shouldn't have said what I said." You moved to your closet, slipping out of your bikini and throwing on a t-shirt and panties. You grabbed some gym shorts for JJ and tossed them to him. He had left many clothes at your house over the last six months.

"I tried to talk to her. Tried to ask her to be civil," He said as he slid his shorts on. "She's just fucking stubborn."

You nodded, heading to your bathroom to take your make up off. JJ followed you, snaking his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder. You smiled at the gesture.

"Can I do it?" JJ asked as he saw you reaching for your lashes.

You giggled. "Yeah, JJ, you can do it."

You sat down on your closed toilet and looked up at JJ, closing your eyes. He took your lashes between his fingers and slowly began pulling.

"Just yank it off, JJ!" You laugh.

"I don't want to hurt you!"

"It won't hurt, just rip it."

JJ does as he told and you smile at the instant relief your eyelid felt.

"So weird," JJ says as he fiddles with the lashes in his fingers, flicking them to the side like they are a spider.

"If it freaks you out why do you always want to do it?" You giggle.

"Cuz it's satisfying," He tells you as he leans down to pull your other lashes off. Once he does, he grabs your make up remover and a cotton pad, slowly removing all the make up from your skin. You relax under his touch, enjoying the way he knows how to take care of you.

Once he finishes removing your make up, he ties your hair back, careful of you extensions like you showed him. He washes your face and puts on you moisturizer.

"There. So fucking pretty." He says as he admires your bare face.

You smile up at him, begging for him to kiss you but you know he's too shy.

JJ leads you back to your bed and you both climb under the covers. "What episode were we on?" He asks as he scrolls through Kardashian reruns.

"Uhhhh, Khloe divorcing Lamar." You say. JJ finds the episode and throws the remote to the side. He wraps you tightly in your arms and your throw your arm and leg over his body, nuzzling against his chest.

You felt your eyes growing heavy as JJ ran his fingers over your arm. You couldn't help but smile as you thought about your life. Last year you were stuck in a place full of fake ass people who didn't give a shit about your well being. Now, you were laying in bed watching the Kardashians with a boy who literally couldn't get enough of you. A boy who took the time to learn everything about you. How to care for your hair extensions, take off your make up properly, what colors you liked your nails. A boy who knew you were petrified of spiders and heights. A boy that could make you laugh for hours on end. A boy who'd bring you your favorite food at 2am just because you texted him that you were hungry. A perfect boy.

You couldn't deny the fact that you were absolutely in love with JJ Maybank.

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged! :)

#c&s #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #obx #outer banks #obx fanfiction #obx pogues #obx fandom #obx fic #champagne & sunshine

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thisgirlnamedblusy · 3 days ago

Note

Hello again :) Not my first time requesting but it’s been a minute. An unlucky maiden (reader) is sent to Donna’s by Lady Dimitrescu, because she was caught talking badly about Lady Beneviento to the other maiden’s after Donna came to visit for tea.

(Maybe making snide remarks about noticing Donna’s veiled appearance, or whatever you might come up with!)

Reader thinks she’s being sent to work as Donna’s maid, terrified of what might happen to her even more than she was at the castle. But Donna has other plans in mind..Over some time Donna teases reader, making remarks about her body and touching reader but only in passing. Reader doesn’t understand why her body reacts the way it does especially because she has yet to see Donna’s face. Eventually the teasing gets to be too much and, in the midst of Donna teasing her, reader brushes up against her erection. Reader is about to question it but Donna wastes no time in dominating her. Rough, very dark smut ensues. Afterwards Donna finally reveals her face, Reader finds her beautiful and they share their first kiss, ending with a fluffy moment.

Thank you for all your hard work, I love reading everything you write 🫶🏻 ~A

Yesss!!!! Thank you for your words, and for your request, I hope it wasn't too long... Anyway, I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :))))))

Poor, unfortunate maid

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem, maid! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, Minors DNI, slightly dark Donna, Donna being Donna, fluff

Word count: 8,806

Summary: You must learn not to talk about Lady Beneviento...

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

As a lonely and resourceless villager, you had no choice but to serve the Lords, to join those girls who, after being hired in the castle, you never saw again.

You knew your mistress, a huge, capricious woman who wasn’t very difficult to deal with. The rumors seemed to be wrong, or you simply had not given your mistress any reason to punish you, or to take you to her chamber at night.

You knew it was a matter of time, but as long as you stayed as far away from any seduction as possible, you could endure not knowing how dark your new life was. At least you weren’t alone.

Serving wasn’t so terrible after all.

Even so, there were still moments of doubt, moments when your body trembled at the unknown, especially when Mother Miranda, or any other visitor, broke into your routine.

On that occasion, the strange presence that accompanied your mistress was her little sister, the woman in mourning who lived apart from the village. Silent, with a veil covering her face, holding that creepy doll in her arms, there stood Donna Beneviento.

Normally, rumors about your mistress, Alcina Dimitrescu, had some basis; they could be easily proven or disproved, since the vampire wasn’t averse to human contact.

But Lady Beneviento… There was no one who had returned from her estate to explain what that woman was like, if she was really crazy, if she was, without a doubt, the most dangerous Lord.

Knowledge was power, but ignorance was terror. As you moved to remove the teacups, a tremor in your body betrayed the discomfort you felt with that dark presence, with that black veil, hiding where her gaze was directed.

“So… everything is the same in my dear sister's life,” Alcina commented, lighting a cigarette as she leaned back on the sofa, completely ignoring your presence.

“Yes,” the shrill voice coming from the doll said, making a shiver run down your spine.

Could that woman really talk? Was it always the doll, or her?

“Mm, how boring, my dear,” your lady said, shaking her head.

“Yes, yes! How boring!” the doll shrieked, with a little different tone than before, less dark. “Alci, my Donna is lonely.”

Your mistress laughed, shaking her head as the lady in black reprimanded the puppet's attitude with a gesture, without saying a word.

“Oh, poor Donna,” Alcina said, pretending to pout as you struggled to ignore the conversation.

“Yes, poor Donna,” Angie repeated, being again struck by a glance from the veiled woman, who shook the puppet in her lap.

“My dear, being alone is a penance,” the lady in white said, glancing at you from the corner of her eye. “You should take one of my maids.”

“No,” the doll said, with that dark tone again. “You keep insisting and I always tell you the same thing: I don't need a maid.”

“I insist because I care about you,” Alcina whispered, blinking petulantly. “You won't find maids as helpful as these anywhere,”

“I said no, I don't need a maid, much less one of yours,” the puppet said, darkening her voice even more.

You, who had already finished cleaning up, were about to put that conversation aside, standing elegantly and making a small bow before leaving.

“Mm, wait,” interrupted your mistress, grabbing your arm with her huge hand, stopping your path. “Donna, you offend me, what's wrong with my maids?” she sang, bringing you closer to them and putting you right in front of the veiled woman, who turned her head towards you.

You could feel it. You could feel that all of Lady Beneviento's attention was on you.

“Look at how beautiful she is,” Alcina said, holding your chin with her hand and pushing you a little closer to the ventriloquist. “She has beautiful eyes, don't you think?” she murmured amused.

“Hello, maid,” Angie said, moving from her owner's lap and approaching you in a threatening manner.

You would have backed away if it weren't for your mistress' strong grip.

“(Y/N), what manners,” Alcina scolded you, pushing you even closer. “Come on, dear, speak and show my dear sister that my maids are nice.”

“I-I'm… glad to meet you, my lady,” you said, looking away from that black veil.

“See? A beautiful face, a perfect body…” Alcina sighed, running her hands over your waist, highlighting your features. “And very, very helpful… That's what my maids are, dear, I don't know what's wrong with having one for yourself.”

“I said no,” the doll insisted with a dark voice.

“Ugh, you are stubborn,” Dimitrescu joked, still framing your figure. “I don't understand you, little sister, if I had the same gift as you... I certainly wouldn't waste it like that,” she sighed, making you swallow hard as you didn't understand exactly what she meant.

“Stubborn!” Angie repeated, causing the lady to murmur something that you couldn't hear properly, forcing the doll back into her lap. “Alci, do they know how to play?”

“Oh, they do,” your mistress murmured, tightening her grip on your body.

The castle lady's gaze fell on the woman in black, who seemed frozen, with that invisible gaze resting on every part of your body. Of course, Alcina was always very observant, and after looking at you with a sinister smile, she laughed softly.

“Look at you. You seem to like her, am I wrong?” the lady in white purred, bowing her head. “Anyway,” she sighed, finally pushing you towards the door. “You can leave, (Y/N).”

“Yes, my lady,” you said, bowing again and walking slowly towards the door, wanting to disappear from that place as soon as possible.

Breathing nervously, you arrived at the kitchen, leaving the tray with the tea on the counter and sighing in relief.

“(Y/N), what's wrong? You're pale,” Olga, one of your companions, who was washing the dishes, commented.

“Ugh, nothing,” you said, shaking your head, letting the trembling of your body calm down on its own.

After a second to catch your breath, you picked up the tray again, ready to help your friend.

“You don't have to be ashamed, it's okay to be scared,” she said, rubbing your back. “I had a worse time when Mother Miranda came. I thought that at any moment I was going to grow horns or something like that.”

You smiled knowingly, dipping the cups into the water while you dried the plates she handed you.

“That woman makes me nervous, you know, Lady Beneviento,” you commented after a few seconds of silence. “She's terrifying.”

“Mm, well, that's what they say,” Olga answered.

For some reason you felt like talking about her, telling your friend the impressions that this woman in mourning made on you. In front of her you were terribly nervous, almost panicking, but you had enough time to notice some details.

She was a young woman, or so her hands told you. You looked at her body, at how the black dress framed a hidden and mysterious figure.

“What about her doll? It's very creepy,” you continued. “It's impossible to know if Donna speaks or the puppet does.”

“Well, I've heard that doll has a life of its own, you know, thanks to the Black Gods,” your friend said. “She probably uses it to communicate with others. Alcina has said sometimes that Lady Beneviento doesn't want to talk to anyone.”

“Why?” you asked curiously, starting to dry the dishes. “I mean, can't she talk or...?”

“Oh, yes she can, sometimes she calls the castle,” she said, nodding without giving it too much importance.

“I wonder what her voice sounds like...” you murmured thoughtfully, not really knowing why you were questioning so many things about that woman.

“Her voice? Is that the only thing you wonder about her? I could ask better questions, (Y/N),” Olga joked. “I'm much more worried about what they say in the village, you know, that she's insane.”

“I'm not surprised, living alone surrounded by dolls can't be good,” you said, playing along with her joke. “Although to be honest, she seemed like a very calm woman to me.”

“Why so curious?” your friend asked, wiping the soap off her hands. “Did she catch your attention or something?”

“What? No, well…” you said nervously, blushing for some reason. “Well, it's just not normal to be able to see that woman up close.”

“See her, I don't think that's the right word, she always wears that veil,” Olga said, leaning on the counter while you placed the plates.

“Yes… I wonder what she looks like,” you said. “I mean, her body is beautiful as well as her hands…”

“It's obvious that she has something to hide,” she said, nodding, disinterested. “If you ask me, I'll tell you that I don't want to know, putting up with the lady's daughters is enough contact with little monsters.”

“Do you think she's a monster?” you asked, lowering your voice, since the silence in the kitchen was starting to be too noticeable.

Olga shrugged, sighing.

“I mean, Alcina is very tall, and Moreau… well, he's not exactly a beauty, why would she hide?” you insisted. “I find it hard to believe that she really has a monstrous appearance, her figure doesn't say the same.”

“She's probably uglier than her dolls,” Olga joked, nudging you. “Hey, if you're so interested…”

“I didn't say I was interested,” you defended yourself, blushing again. “I'm curious to know what kind of hideous creature hides under the facade of such an apparently normal woman.”

“Hideous creature?” a dark voice asked, making you both turn around suddenly to discover something terrifying: Alcina was standing in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, with a smug smile.

“My lady,” you said in unison, lowering your heads.

Your body trembled again disconsolately and your face burned with shame, how long had she been there? Her expression told you that long enough.

“Well, well, well… So talking about my poor sister, huh? How rude,” the lady said, approaching you with a sensual step and her hands on hips. “How unbecoming of ladies is to judge others…”

“Sorry, my lady, we were…” Olga murmured.

“Shut up,” she said in a brusque tone, arching her eyebrows. “You better go and take care of your chores before I feel like punishing you.”

“Yes, my lady,” you said again, trying to walk past her with your head down.

“Tsk, tsk, not you,” Alcina whispered, clicking her tongue as she grabbed one of your shoulders and abruptly stopped your escape. “My dear, you disappoint me…”

“My lady, I…” you whispered frightened, playing with your hands, which were already beginning to sweat in terror.

“Young lady, it's not right to mess with someone like poor Donna, especially if she's not here to defend herself,” Alcina said.

“I wasn't messing with her, my lady, I was just…” you said, unable to look her in the eyes. “I was just wondering what she was like, just curiosity.”

“Mm,” Alcina murmured, blinking in confusion.

“I'm sorry, my lady, I didn't mean those things,” you apologized again, lowering your head so much that you thought your neck would be cut off. “It was my ignorance speaking, my lady.”

“How dangerous ignorance is,” she said, with a sinister smile, pinching your cheek, hurting you. “I should punish you for being so cruel to my little sister.”

“No, please, my lady,” you begged, clasping your hands together, on the verge of sobbing. “Not the dungeons.”

“Dungeons? How unoriginal, dear,” Alcina mocked, shaking her head. “I've always thought that the punishment should fit the crime and… well, as much as she denies it, Donna liked you, you just had to see the way she looked at you…”

“Excuse me, my lady?” you asked looking for your friend with your gaze, a friend who had long since fled in terror.

“Oh, yes, of course she likes you…” she murmured, speaking to herself while grabbing your chin, as if she were studying you. “Mm, yes… Pack your bags, (Y/N), your work at the castle is over.”

“What? I mean, are you firing me, my lady?” you asked scared, with your eyes wide open. “Please, I need the job, I…”

“Shh… You're a girl who likes to take things for granted, aren't you? I said that your work in the castle is over, not that you stop being a maid,” Alcina corrected, shaking her head.

“I don't understand, my lady,” you whispered with a broken voice.

“Since you like to talk about my sister so much… well, you'd better work for her, don't you think? From now on you'll be Donna Beneviento's maid,” she finally said, pointing at you with her finger. “And before you protest, my dear… there's room in the dungeons for disobedient maids.”

“But, but…” you said frightened, shaking your head at your new destiny.

No, anything but her, but that… monster.

“Do I hear complaints?” Alcina asked, with a defiant look. “Do you have any problem serving Lady Beneviento? Well, maybe you prefer the dungeons after all,” she sighed, turning around and setting off all your alarms.

You moved quickly, reaching for your mistress's arm and tugging lightly on it. She didn't mind, on the contrary, she started laughing in a sinister way.

“No, please, I… it's fine, I'll serve Lady Beneviento,” you finally sighed, lowering your head, giving up.

“Good girl,” Alcina said, satisfied, putting a hand on your chin again. “You'll leave tomorrow, I still have to convince my stubborn sister although… I don't think I'll have to try too hard.”

The lady of the castle wasn't lying. You didn't know what was said during that conversation, but your former mistress's pleased smile told you that you would have no choice but to pack your bags and head into the forest.

You were scared, truly scared. In the village everyone liked to speculate, to talk about those semi-deities that protected the village from those unfaithful to the Black Gods. The lady in black was no exception, although you would have liked it to be.

Terror, nightmares, mind games, hallucinations… those seemed to be the powers of the youngest of the Lords. You certainly had no reason to doubt such rumors, but they weren't enough to reassure you, quite the contrary. Life in the castle was truly hard, all your companions kept an eye on Alcina Dimitrescu, avoiding being one of her frequent whims.

Luckily, you were spared from those nightly visits to her chambers, although you didn't know for how long. Free of that responsibility and the firm hand that controlled you in the castle, you should have been relieved, you couldn't.

Donna Beneviento was mysterious, dangerous, mentally ill, a reserved, isolated woman, a woman who always covered her face and who always aroused your curiosity. But curiosity and fear clashed with each other.

Working in the castle wasn’t pleasant, but not knowing what awaited you in that sinister mansion made you want to run back into the arms of your former mistress.

“Maid!” Angie shrieked when you reached the door, suddenly opening it and causing you to almost trip. “It's about time!”

“H-Hello,” you stammered, looking first at the Angie doll and moments later reaching the face of the lady, who was waiting patiently behind the puppet.

The woman in black barely moved, making a vague gesture with her head and turning, leaving you paralyzed.

“What are you doing, stupid? Come in,” Angie insisted, pulling on your dress to drag you into the mansion.

Everything around you was… damp. The walls had seen better days and the layer of dust in that place was even breathable. It seemed like an almost abandoned place, but at the same time you felt warmth, surely because of the lights that made it not seem like a sinister or terrible place.

“M-My lady,” you stammered, drawing Beneviento's attention.

She stopped in her slow walk, turning to look at you, taking several steps forward.

“I-I'm (Y/N),” you introduced yourself, bowing shakily.

The lady in black didn't move, she just watched you in silence, creating a terribly disturbing atmosphere between you two.

“I know who you are, you fool!” Angie shrieked, scaring you again, walking around you mockingly. “You're the gossipy maid.”

“Gossipy?” you asked, backing away slowly, keeping an eye on the exit door in case you had to flee.

“Don't play dumb, you fool,” Angie snapped, threateningly. “You're that stupid girl who talks about my Donna.”

“What? I, I don’t…” you said, terribly embarrassed. You didn’t think Alcina would give you away like that. “My lady, I promise you I…”

“Save your promises, silly maid, Alci told us you were talking about my Donna,” the doll accused you, unfortunately being right. “What do you have to say?”

“I’m sorry,” you said in a whisper, looking away from the black veil that remained impassive, watching you. “I didn’t mean to offend anyone, it’s just that… W-Well, I… just…”

“Ugh, shut up, you’re very annoying,” Angie protested, running back to her owner, also pulling at her black dress. “Donna, Donna, let me play with her. She’s a bad girl…”

The lady shook her head at the doll, denying her companion’s dark request, much to your relief. After a few more seconds of tension, she moved slowly towards you, with an elegant and stoic walk.

She was so close that you could hear her breathing through the black fabric, and when the woman raised a hand towards you, you couldn't help but shrink into yourself.

“Cosa fai?” she asked, leaving you even more frozen.

As far as you knew, no one, much less a simple maiden like you had ever heard Lady Beneviento speak in her own voice. It was a melodic voice, hoarse from lack of use, but it had a certain charm, or so it seemed to you at first.

“Um, I, I...” you stammered regaining your previous posture as the lady sighed, moving her arm towards you again. “I'm sorry.”

“What are you wearing?” the lady asked, not paying attention to the trembling that showed your fear.

“Um, a dress, my lady,” you said as best you could, looking away.

“Mm,” she murmured, touching your clothes passively, almost with contempt. “You didn't dress like that in the castle.”

“No, well, there I wore the uniform,” you explained, letting those slender fingers run over your dress.

She didn't seem to notice your discomfort, or rather, she didn't care at all. Lady Beneviento continued to run her hands over your dress, allowing you to confirm that indeed, she was a young woman. You wondered if those hands were as soft as they seemed...

“Mm, so why aren't you wearing it here?” she asked in a serious tone, moving away a little from your personal space. “You're my maid, you have to dress like one.”

“Yes, well, I just arrived, my lady,” you said pleasantly, with a shy smile, tightly gripping the handle of your suitcase. “I'll change right away and…”

“Alcina told me I could do whatever I wanted with you,” Donna commented, tilting her head, making her black veil dance.

“Oh, um,” you said with wide eyes, praying to the Black Gods to have mercy on your soul. “I-I suppose that's what she told you…”

“Tell me, what should I do with you?” she asked again, with an impatient voice, which betrayed a certain nervousness. “I know what you said about me.”

“I didn't know that… well, I…” you stammered, with the suitcase shaking in your hand, closing your eyes to await your fate. “ I just spoke without knowing and… I…”

“You said I have pretty hands,” she interrupted you, joining her hands in front of your body. “Do you really think so?”

“Yes, of course, they… seem very soft,” you answered with your best performance, looking sideways at those hands, the hands of a woman who must be… beautiful?

“Mm,” she murmured again.

“Donna, Donna, let's play with her,” insisted Angie, who seemed impatient to torture you.

The lady looked slowly at her doll and then at you, in a strange way, staring at you so much that you could feel a cold draft on your chest.

“No, not now,” she finally answered.

Not now?

“My lady, I…” you whispered, not knowing whether to apologize or to directly ask for mercy for your poor unfortunate soul.

“Taci, I don't want to hear you, you annoy me,” the lady in black protested, with a cold, dark tone despite that melodic voice marked with a seductive accent. “From now on you are my maid, mine, do you hear me?”

You nodded, lowering your head.

“Listen carefully, silly, silly,” Angie sang, laughing in a disturbing way.

“I don't need to say what a maid does, do I?” Donna said, with a cocky, almost mocking tone, to which you shook your head. “I want you to clean the house, do the laundry, and…”

“I know what a maid does, my lady,” you interrupted, with the terrible idea of being somewhat defiant, a bad idea, of course.

“Mm, shut up while I'm talking,” the lady snapped at you, clenching her fists. “Don't disturb me when I'm working, and don't talk unless I ask you to, is that clear?”

“Yes, my lady,” you said, making your first mistake, speaking without permission, making the lady in black put the hands on her hips. “Oh, I'm sorry, I…”

“Well, let’s make a change: if I tell you to shut up, you shut up, better that way?”

“Yes, my lady,” you sighed nervously, wanting to get out of that place, wanting to go back to your life in the castle, something you never thought you wanted so badly.

“One more thing… You have to do what I tell you, when I tell you,” she hissed in a dangerous voice, approaching you again. “If you disobey me… you will regret it.”

“Yes, my lady,” you said, believing that at any moment your heart would fail you.

“Mm, take off that horrible dress and put on your maid uniform, then you can rest,” Donna ordered you, turning and walking away from you without paying you any attention.

“Sorry, my lady…” you said, interrupting her walk again. “Where…?”

“Piano superiore,” she whispered, pointing to the stairs and abandoning you definitively.

You decided not to say anything, to obey as you had been ordered and walk towards the stairs. On the wall, there was a portrait, a portrait of a beautiful woman that you couldn't help but notice.

Her cold gaze, her regal pose, the Angie doll in her arms… It could be Donna, or it couldn’t be. You thought you had enough punishment for your innate curiosity, but your insides were demanding a lot of answers to the questions you still had.

“Is that you?” you asked in a low voice, running a hand over the canvas, staring at her eyes. “Tell me, why are you covering yourself? You are a beautiful woman… but terrifying too,” you commented, slowly climbing the stairs, fleeing from the captivating gaze that caught your attention.

Without wasting time you changed your clothes, adjusting the somewhat indiscreet castle uniform while looking at yourself in an old mirror. Of course the room was small, but at least you wouldn't have to share it with anyone.

From that moment on you knew that this room was your refuge, it was a safe place, although you doubted if there really was a safe place in that house.

“Hey!” An unpleasant squeal scared you, making you stumble and fall on the bed.

The Angie doll was there, it made you nervous to think for how long.

“Miss… Angie,” you said with your hand on your chest, putting on your clothes and trying to regain your composure.

“Did I scare you?” she asked while laughing at your clumsy movements and your terrified look.

“You did,” you said, frowning. “I mean, miss.”

“Bah, stop with the formalities. I'm not Donna, although she doesn't really like that concept of... my lady either,” the doll said, mocking her owner and making you glance sideways at the door, just in case.

“She hates me, doesn't she?” you asked without really knowing why, why you were worried about your new lady's opinion of you.

“No,” Angie said, shaking her head. “My Donna has a habit of scaring everyone, but it's not her fault. Unlike me, the wonderful and majestic Angie, she doesn't know how to deal with people.”

“Um...” you murmured confused.

“It's nothing personal, she does it unintentionally,” the puppet explained, moving your stuff with childish curiosity. “I don't even believe that she would finally want to have a maid, I've been insisting for years.”

“I see,” you sighed, letting yourself fall on the bed, finding some comfort with the doll. “She seemed upset by… well, by what Alcina told her.”

“Upset? No,” the doll said, comically rummaging through your clothes. “Why would she be upset about that?”

“W-Well, Donna knows that Alcina heard me talk about her in the castle and…” you whispered, playing with your hands and watching Angie as she messed up your luggage.

“So?” the doll asked, finally emerging from your luggage. “My Donna likes when people say nice things about her.”

You stepped back, frowning and starting to get more and more confused.

“N-Nice things?” you asked with a trembling voice, scratching the back of your neck. “I…”

“Yes, yes, yes…” Angie said, interrupting you abruptly. “I know, she has a nice body, her hands are beautiful, she probably is beautiful … you don't need to repeat it, silly.”

“Um, I, I… I thought that…” you stammered.

Well, Angie didn't lie, you had said those things in the kitchen, but you had also questioned her appearance, you had speculated about the monster that black veil must hide.

You didn't know why Alcina had been spared the worst part of your gossipy comment. The situation was getting more and more tense, but you couldn't help but feel relieved.

Donna didn't know that dark part of your conversation, although her threatening and arrogant attitude seemed to say the opposite.

“What? Were you lying? You gossipy maid...” Angie hissed, pointing at you and getting very close to your personal space.

“No, no, no,” you said nervously, waving your hands in a defensive position. “I wasn't lying, that's what I think.”

“Good, because Donna would be very disappointed if you were, and I suppose you intuit what happens to stupid girls who disappoint my Donna, right?” the doll threatened.

“Um, I don't know,” you murmured, still looking at the door.

“Well, the truth is that I don't know either, you're the first fool who works as her maid,” Angie said, somewhat thoughtful, sitting down next to you.

“Yeah, um, hey, Angie, you don't seem to hate me too much,” you said with a cautious tone, making the doll turn around amused.

“That remains to be seen, silly”

“Yeah, um, could you give me some advice? I mean, I'd like not to disappoint your Donna, but it's just that… I-I don't know how to be with her, she's… weird,” you said nervously, studying the doll's subtle reaction.

“Oh, yes, she's very weird,” Angie confirmed. “But don't worry, she won't hurt you if you're nice to her, especially if you keep saying such nice things…” the doll whispered in a confident manner. “Although don't expect her to thank you, my Donna is very reclusive.”

The first few days were the worst.

The lady in black was certainly a woman who wasn’t well in the head, but in all that time you hadn't noticed anything as serious as the rumors said. She was simply… there. Sometimes she watched you in silence, other times it was as if you didn't exist. You couldn't say you were comfortable, but your stay wasn't unpleasant either.

Little by little you asked yourself questions, you let curiosity accompany you at night, imagining a thousand horrible things that could be under that black veil, things that were pushed out of your mind when you remembered that beautiful portrait. You couldn't say that woman attracted you in any way, but at the same time you couldn't stop thinking about her.

She was so mysterious, so strange that you couldn't help but direct your gaze towards her from time to time, noticing every detail of her body dressed in black, her hands, her careful manicure, the elegance of her walk.

Anyway, you didn't have many more things to entertain yourself with in that place. After two weeks, loneliness began to fall on you, but, if you wanted to serve your new mistress, you would have to endure a little longer. Who knows, maybe one day Alcina would call and you would return to the castle.

On the one hand you wanted it to happen, on the other you wanted to stay a little longer, to discover something else about that mysterious lady.

“(Y/N),” her dark voice called you from the hallway while you were cleaning like every morning. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, um, cleaning, my…. Donna,” you said without meaning to, remembering the words of the Angie doll the first day. Seeing her nervous reaction, you immediately regretted your words. “Oh, sorry, my lady, Angie told me that…”

“What's wrong? You don't like my name?” she asked with an offended tone, tilting her black veil.

“Of course I like it, it's a beautiful name,” you said in your defense, dealing with the lady's erratic attitude. “I-It means woman in Italian, right?”

“Mm,” Donna murmured with disinterest. “Angie is right. I don't like you calling me as if I were your former owner.”

“Owner?” you asked to yourself, blinking in confusion. “I-It's okay, Donna,” you said faking a smile. “Do you need something?”

“You haven't cleaned the basement in two weeks, (Y/N), why?” the lady asked, with a soft, but serious tone.

“Um, well, I… I didn't want to disturb you,” you said with an apologetic look. “I thought…”

“What did you think? Do you need me to tell you what you have to do at every moment?” she questioned, with a pretentious tone. “Are you stupid?”

“No, I…” you said annoyed by that out of context insult, but you stood firm. “You told me not to do anything you didn't ask me to and…”

She sighed, relaxing her posture a little, as if she had somehow become nervous, something curious.

“W-Well, I'm asking you now, I need you to clean the workshop,” she said with a brittle, nervous, even embarrassed tone.

“Okay,” you whispered, walking towards the hallway she indicated, passing close, very close to her.

A shiver ran down your spine, making you tremble when you noticed how her hand brushed against yours due to the proximity. Surely it was just that, a casual brush, but you couldn't help but think that she had done it on purpose, that her fingers moved just at the moment you passed by her.

You blinked confused and looked at her out of the corner of your eye, but you didn't say anything, just like her, who just followed you slowly, walking behind you, making the sound of her heels on the wood seem like some kind of subtle threat.

Donna entered the elevator with you and leaned down to press the button, brushing her arm against your body again. You should feel uncomfortable with that contact, but you didn't. Your cheeks flushed as you noticed the lady's lavender scent, as you noticed her so close to your body.

You shook your head and looked ahead, but you kept noticing something, a look, a look that didn't seem to want to move from yours as you descended. You really couldn't be sure if she was really watching you in silence but... what else could she be looking at?

“I'll try not to disturb you too much,” you whispered as you entered the workshop, seeing how the lady ignored you again, sitting at her work table and nodding slowly, almost imperceptibly.

“Va bene,” she sighed with a soft, muffled voice, grabbing a porcelain head that gave you another kind of chills.

In silence, far from any source of natural light or even from Angie, your undercover ally, you felt the atmosphere full of tension, full of an uncomfortable heaviness.

With all your skill and discretion, you cleaned each of the shelves in that place, feeling a small pang in your back, a silent alert that your body sent to your mind, making you turn your head.

Again, again those invisible eyes were watching you. Her veil looked towards you, until your eyes fell on it. The lady turned her head slowly, going over the details of the porcelain.

You noticed a detail… You had seen that head, but you hadn’t seen progress in its painting, so… Donna hadn’t been working but… she had been watching you all the time.

You swallowed as you tried to keep your shaking hand from wiping away the dust. The thought of the lady watching you definitely didn't make you uncomfortable at all, but you felt warmth slowly rose up your legs until it settled in your chest.

The sound of the chair dragging across the floor alerted you, causing you to wake up from that strange dream and clean faster. One step, two, the lady in black was slowly approaching and you had to fight not to let yourself be carried away by your instincts and turn around.

“Donna,” you said in a formal tone, stepping away when the lady seemed to be searching for something on the shelves, looking at you briefly. “Do you need something?”

“No,” she whispered coldly, bringing you closer as she moved some paint jars.

The lavender was present again and the warmth that lay in your chest spread to your cheeks. Her body was brushing against yours, her dress was brushing against yours, she was too close and for some reason you didn't care.

You gasped in surprise when you noticed something on your back, a hand running slowly up and down. It couldn't be anyone else, it was Donna. It was her hand exploring your uniform while she pretended to be searching for something.

Slowly her gaze returned to yours, she moved away from your eyes the view you had of the side of her face: black hair framing a normal ear and a pale skin that you were convinced was soft, very soft.

Her fingers continued to play with your back, passing over your neck and finally moving away from your skin. Of course Donna was perfectly aware of what she was doing, bringing that daring hand to your waist, passing over it with a subtle touch.

“Il tuo corpo è bellisimo…” she whispered in your ear, coming closer, leaning in slowly as her hands began to run over your figure.

“S-Sorry?” you asked nervously, letting yourself be carried away by those strange sensations due to the softness of her discreet caresses.

“Unlike you, I'm not afraid to tell you,” Donna whispered, abandoning your personal space, letting the cold be the signal your body had to relax. “Che stai guardando? Keep working, maid,” she said, returning to her chair, leaving you completely paralyzed.

“O-Okay,” you whispered, with the cloth shaking in your hand, with your heart beating rapidly.

You didn't know what had happened exactly, but you did know that it had been something intentional.

The lady in black had approached you, had touched you subtly, had commented that your body seemed beautiful to her, or so you thought. It was probably just a test. To your surprise, it wasn't.

It didn't matter much what you were doing. Sometimes she would come closer in silence, just to brush against you, to have her body caress yours, passing it off as a coincidence.

Her fingers would sometimes run over your skin, sometimes would smooth your hair. Always in silence, always with your own body freezing, allowing those teasing, those caresses on your skin that seemed to have no sense.

Other times the lady's attitude was different, she could be calm, and suddenly get nervous. She never apologized for those approaches, and she knew she didn't have to, but she made some comment, some observation out loud that praised some of your virtues.

The softness of your skin, your supposedly perfect neck, questions about what kind of beauty your uniform hid... They were disturbing comments if you weren't enjoying them.

You soon got used to those shy and at the same time brazen approaches, letting your skin be just a canvas for her hands, to touch, to touch whatever they wanted. She was your mistress, and you wanted to continue seeing her that way, but you couldn't help but dream of those caresses, of that woman in the portrait, with that black veil on a face that you were sure was beautiful.

Of course you found a certain mockery in her words, certain references to the comments you made about Donna and that Alcina didn't hesitate to tell her. Was she laughing at you? Did she like to make you nervous? Was it a sign of her power over you, over her maid?

More and more questions and fewer answers.

The only thing you knew, the only thing you didn't understand, was the heat your body generated with those touches, the heat you felt one day when you were cleaning the kitchen and the lady came closer without stopping looking at you, bending down to take something from a cupboard, making her breasts brush against yours.

The heat was unbearable. The trembling of your body prevented you from doing anything but smile shyly at that contact. You even began to wish for it, even to wake up wondering if she would ever do it again or if she would get tired of making fun of you. Denying that Donna attracted you would be like denying your own existence and you simply couldn't do that.

You existed, your body existed; you wondered if perhaps it only did so Donna would touch it.

“Oh, no thank you,” you said one evening, an evening when Donna asked you to have dinner with her, something that was increasingly common.

Normally silence was the only thing you could hear during those meals, meals that your mistress prepared for you. You never thanked her for that gesture because, according to Donna, you should do what she asked you, without saying a single word.

The veiled lady took the bottle from your glass with a slow gesture as if she couldn't, simply couldn't stop watching you.

“Do you reject my kindness?” she asked in a cold tone, far removed from the melodic and honeyed accent she used when she felt like touching you. “You're rude.”

“Oh, I don't want to reject anything, but I never drink at work, Alcina didn't allow it,” you commented with an innocent gesture, starting to eat.

Donna, for some reason, found something wrong with that comment, leaving the bottle on the table with a loud bang, growling.

“Are you still thinking about her? I should have assumed that one of her maids wouldn't forget her easily,” Donna hissed, crossing her arms.

“No, I...” you said nervously not knowing the reason for her abrupt reaction.

“Taci, I don't want to hear you defend her,” she told you in a cold tone, her hands trembling dangerously. “You're probably looking forward to getting back with her, aren't you?”

“No, I…” you stammered again, with a sad look. “The truth is that I'm fine here, with you.”

“Mm,” Donna murmured, lowering her head again, moving the black cloth away from her face a little so she could eat. “I'm convinced that you miss a woman as beautiful as her, right?”

“What? Oh, no, the truth is that…” you said even more nervously not understanding the reason for her sudden anger.

“You'll always be hers, right?” she sighed, disappointed with your vague answers. “You're not able to have some wine with me because you're still loyal to her.”

“That's not true,” you said, shaking your head.

“Vaffanculo,” the lady hissed, clenching her cutlery very tightly. “You say that you think I'm beautiful, but in reality you only think about her. You will leave me. You will abandon me to return to her arms, to that beautiful woman’s arms.”

“You are talking nonsense, Donna, you must calm down, I…” you said fearfully, trying to make a bold move, to reach her hand to caress it.

“Lasciami, domestica,” she growled, moving away from your touch, opening a wound in your fragile heart.

How could Donna think you missed Alcina if you couldn't stop thinking about her caresses? How could she be jealous of that woman if she never had the privilege of touching you like that? You didn't understand, you simply didn't understand.

“Clear the table, we're done,” Donna whispered, getting up and leaving senseless, leaving you wanting to know what she would say about your body, if she would say you were beautiful again.

You couldn't do anything but obey, going down to the kitchen to clean the dishes, thinking, mulling over that absurd jealousy that seemed to have come out of nowhere.

Your body was cold, eager for her hands, for her caresses. Your heart was beating impatiently to feel her close to you again and you, unknowingly, by rejecting something as stupid as a glass of wine, had lost that opportunity.

The sadness of her absence revealed some feelings that you refused to accept, that attraction Donna exerted on you, the attraction that turned into an embarrassed crush, one that you would never recognize.

A tear ran down your cheek just as Donna entered the kitchen, leaving a cup of tea on the counter, without touching you, staying subtly away from you.

“You forget this, you clumsy maid,” she murmured with contempt, moving away from you again.

You couldn't stand it, you couldn't stand the lavender disappearing that soon, her hands not running over your skin, not playing with your hair at the same time as her words played with your heart. You wanted her, you needed her.

“Donna,” you whispered, getting her attention just before she disappeared again. “Please, touch me.”

The lady stood upright, thoughtful, but it didn't take her too long to take two steps towards you while you turned around, turning your back for her to do whatever she wanted, to feel her hands around your waist again.

That pleasant sensation returned to your body. Her hands traveled hesitantly down your back, over your hips as her body came closer. Afraid to think she would never believe your devotion, you took another chance, bringing your trembling hand to hers, guiding it down your body.

The silence was only broken by nervous breaths as your hands went up to your breasts, as her fingers closed over one of them, as your bodies swayed subtly.

You closed your eyes to enjoy these new caresses, releasing her hand to let it to do what it wanted, to take what she wanted. Her fingers tickled your neck and her hand squeezed your breast making you gasp as your helpless body clung to hers.

“I would like to believe that you are mine,” Donna whispered in your ear, leaning on your neck, brushing your skin with her breath through the black fabric of her veil, as her hands gripped your waist, passing over your belly, over your breasts again, over your legs.

You were hopelessly in love, dazzled by that lustful touch that seemed to not want to lose its innocence. Heat rose up your cheeks, your hands began to sweat, joining hers again, lowering them down the skirt of your uniform, forcing them to run over the skin that ridiculous dress covered.

Donna didn't say anything. She just watched you out of the corner of her eye as you guided her movements towards your underwear. With a gentle slap she removed your hands from hers, claiming their independence as they conquered your incipient wetness.

Her mischievous fingers slipped through the fabric, feeling, caressing your folds with delicacy, introducing one of them little by little, with a constant rhythm.

“Donna...” you gasped at the sensation, at the pleasure of having her inside you, of having that soft finger playing with you, making your fantasies come true.

You opened your eyes, turning your attention away from the pleasure you felt when you noticed something, something pressing against your body, something that deformed the black fabric of her dress in a subtle way, but enough for you to notice.

Confused, you pulled away, shaking your head, causing her to back away.

“Donna, what...?” you asked, knowing what it was exactly, what you were feeling, knowing that no matter how many rumors there were, no one knew Lady Beneviento.

“It's a gift from the Gods, (Y/N),” the lady hissed, with a cold tone. “I won't let you reject it.”

Her tone became darker and darker and without saying another word, or letting you ask or question what was happening, the lady in black pulled your hair hard, pushing you away from the counter and guiding you towards the kitchen island, pushing you face down on it.

“Donna, wait,” you said somewhat nervously, sorry for having offended her.

Well, actually you had heard rumors about the changes that the Gods’ gift caused in the lady's body, but you never paid attention to them. They seemed like impossible exaggerations.

Of course it was all true, and instead of being scared or asking more questions, you decided to go with the flow.

“Shut up, maid…” she hissed, pulling your hair again. “I won't let you reject me, you can't reject me!” she yelled madly, terribly nervous, while her hands wasted no time, pushing aside your uniform and lowering definitely your underwear.

“Donna, Don… Ah!” you screamed when without warning her erection made its way through your wet walls, stretching and causing you a slightly painful discomfort. “Donna, please … It hurts”

“Shut up,” she said, moving her hips hastily while she growled at the feeling of having claimed you, of having made you hers with just one rough movement. “I don't care if you don't want it…”

“I want it,” you said, beginning to notice how the pain disappeared, how your body adapted to her trembling shaft, caressing it, squeezing it. “I… want it…”

She stopped, ceasing her thrusts and running a hand over your face, tilting it up to study it better, to look for the lie in your words.

“Do you want it?” Donna asked with a serious voice, placing herself in a more comfortable position. “Do you want me?”

“Yes…” you moaned as you noticed lust for the first time, as you felt her penis settle inside you more and more easily, sending a wave of overwhelming sensations to your body. “I love you…”

She didn't say anything, but she did resume her movements slower, rocking her hips, enjoying the tight ride of your walls on her erection. The moans came out of your mouth, expressing the pleasure you felt with her inside you, with that touch, those games she played with you for so long.

The pleasure was intense and you could only close your eyes and let yourself be carried away by it, by the sensations, by the obscene and wet sound that bounced off the kitchen walls. Her hands gripped your hips; her perfect nails scratched your skin, guiding your body, moving it, conquering it completely.

“Sei mia…” she hissed, entering you completely, leaning over your raised chin and speaking in your ear as the sensation became more and more intense.

“I'm yours…” you whispered, unable to suppress the moans that clouded your statements, with lust unleashed, wanting more, much more. “Donna, please, keep going… keep going…”

A sinister laugh came out of the black veil as she resumed her thrusts, increasingly wet, easier. Your body accepted Donna without fear, hugging her, squeezing her, wanting to feel every part of her, to imprison her, to not let her escape.

“Mm, you are a naughty maid…” the lady whispered again, being as far inside you as possible, moving back as she watched how she took you, how her erection disappeared in your wet entrance. “Do you want more, tesoro?”

“Yes, yes,” you said with a moan of pleasure while your hips moved nervously.

You wanted to feel more, you wanted to notice how she broke your innocence, you wanted to prove that you were hers, and you would never be anyone else's.

The moans eclipsed any comment, any obscene and incomprehensible whisper. Donna's thrusts were intense, but they almost seemed like caresses, precise caresses that made your body tremble.

“(Y/N)…” the lady sobbed, drawing your attention as she leaned her body towards yours, still moving. “(Y/N), per favore… tell me you'll never leave me.”

“What?” you asked surprised, holding back the desire your body had to release, to tense up and let out the pleasure with a fierce cry. “Donna…”

“Say it! Please say it…” she insisted, hugging you from behind almost desperately, becoming very rough with her thrusts. “Ti sto supplicando, per favore! Say that you’re going to stay with me… forever…”

“Yes, yes, yes! I will stay with you, Donna!” you screamed, unable to hold back your release any longer, tensing your whole body, feeling a certain discomfort as you noticed how hers imprisoned you, how she held you desperately.

“Oh, Cazzo, I’m going to…” she hissed, moaning for the last time, releasing her seed inside you with an intense moan, tensing up just like you, while her heat caressed your walls.

Neither of you said anything. Donna simply pulled away slowly, putting away her shame again and controlling her breathing. You felt wet, dirty and desecrated, but no one said that it wasn't feeling good.

You felt a unique release, the materialization of everything that had happened up to that moment, you felt love, desire, passion, you felt her, you felt her deep inside you, and above all, you felt you didn't want to lose her.

“Donna…” you sighed, pulling up your underwear and turning around, watching as the lady stood, breathing nervously. “I want to stay with you, I'm in love with…”

“Un attimo, (Y/N),” Donna interrupted, bringing a hand to her black veil, moving it aside slowly, very slowly. “My penis isn't the only thing I've been hiding from you.”

You stood perplexed, seeing the lady in the portrait in front of you, seeing her black hair, her pale skin, a single bright eye that seemed to want to cry. She was… you didn't know what to say, she was simply beautiful.

Her scar, the different parts of her body were no reason to run away, to stop admitting that you loved the lady in black, that you were always wrong, that she wasn’t a monster, but the most beautiful woman you had ever met.

“Say something,” she said, frowning at your astonished look. “Am I the hideous creature you imagined?”

“What?” you said thoughtfully.

All this time you were wrong, Alcina had told her everything she had heard.

“Tell me, tell me because otherwise... I...” she murmured, bringing a hand to your face, a trembling hand that caressed your cheek. “No one had ever thought that I have beautiful hands, or that my body is beautiful... you are the only one who has done so.”

“I...”

“Shh...” she hissed, putting a finger on your lips. “I've made you mine, I've taken you, I've claimed your body, but I'd like to think there's something else, that you feel something for me just like I do for you.”

“Donna, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, I will never regret having thought of it, or telling you at this very moment,” you whispered, getting a little closer to her, with your legs numb, but determined. “Yes, you’ve made me yours, you have taken my body, but… there is still something, something I am dying to do, something I have been dreaming of for a long time.”

“What…” she whispered, while your hands guided hers to your waist and your lips slowly approached.

It was a slow kiss, almost clumsy, but deep. Seeing how beautiful she was, how lonely she was, how much she wanted to hear someone say that she was beautiful… it seemed tender to you, sweet, just like that wet and slow kiss.

You slowly moved away while she watched you absentmindedly, playing with your hair, with a half smile on her face.

“I wanted to kiss you,” you murmured, your eyes shining, cupping her face in your hands. “I want to keep doing it, forever.”

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

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limethefirst · 2 days ago

Text

Void Runners Pt. 3

pairings: Deadpool x Wolverine x teen!reader

warnings: heavy Deadpool and Wolverine spoilers, crude humor, violence, swearing

summary: Since being saved by Wade after your encounter with Cassandra, Logan makes you lead the way in the wasteland in hopes you know where they are.

Part 1 / Part 2

a/n: Per-chance I may have disappeared but that doesn't mean I won't finish this story, sorry for being gone so long, please forgive me with this 2000 word update! Enjoy the long awaited part 3

Currently the three of you were all walking through a grassy field, Wade was annoying Logan like usual as you walked in front of them—to be completely honest you were exactly sure where you were going but you knew you’d get there.

It was like the blind leading the blind but they didn't know that.

As they continued to discuss whatever...dumb things Wade could produce, a loud bark rang in the distance, seemingly catching everyone's attention.

You looked forward, as a strange little dog began to run into view. It was ugly, in an oddly cute way, it's tongue jumping up and down with each step it took.

Logan had a disgusted look on his face, while Wade seemed star struck. Wade began to take his mask off, his mouth agape; as the dog got closer the man fell to his knees, and opened his arms, letting the creature jump up on him and lick his face.

"Look at you!" Wade exclaimed, clearly excited, "She's coming with us,"

"No she's not," The man in yellow protested, obviously not wanting the extra company.

While they bickered you took the opportunity to get a closer look at the dog, it made a strange noise as you did. Although you could tell it enjoyed the affection it was being given.

"Sorry, sorry about that girl!" A voice rang, the group turning to look, saw a, what seemed to be more attractive Deadpool with long hair.

You looked between both men, confused at seeing two Deadpool's at once, more so one that said 'sorry' upon first interaction, "Who are you?" Wade asked, noticeably confused.

The other man stopped for a second to catch his breath, "Oh, I'm Deadpool, and I guess you're Deadpool too," He gestured to the Wade you've been traveling with, "But in here, everybody calls me 'Nicepool'."

You snickered at the name, the thought of a nice Deadpool now in your mind.

"Oh my goodness, wait till you see Ladypool. She is gorgeous," Nicepool began to ramble on, "She just had a baby too and.. woosh. Can't even tell." He told you guys, making a gesture with his hands to show you guys what he meant.

Logan gave him a confused face, while Wade added on, "I don't think you're supposed to say that."

"That's okay," Nicepool told you three, as his right hand went over his heart, "I identify as a feminist."

No longer being able to hold in your laughter from this entire interaction you let out an audible snort/chuckle.

All three men looked at you, Wade had a subtle hint of amusement within his eyes, Logan was just confused and Nicepool looked disappointed you'd laugh at the fact he's a feminist.

"Right," Wade said, deadpanning. Before he suddenly perked up, his attention caught by something, "Are those gold-plated 50 caliber Desert Eagle pistoleros?"

" 'Course, to match my ear huggie," Nicepool responded, a smile on his face while he showed off his gold.

"Can I have 'em?" Wade asked, sounding like a child wanting to open their birthday gifts early.

Nicepool laughed at him, "Over my dead body!" He responded still smiling.

You grimaced at the man, "You're gonna regret saying that to him.." you said, knowing Wade would take it seriously.

"You're fun!" He said looking between you and Wade, "And I guess you've already met Mary Puppins, AKA Dogpool. Careful where you touch her, she's 90% g-spot and she'll let you know it."

You looked back at the dog as Wade adjusted her in his arms.

"You let this little flirt out of your sight for one second and she starts shopping for a new papa!" Nicepool exclaimed, still smiling throughout the whole interaction.

You looked back towards Wade only to see Mary Puppins licking his lips and mouth, slightly disturbed by the strange sight.

"If you can't be a responsible pet owner then maybe you don't deserve this little unicorn!" Wade spoke as if a dog wasn't literally eating at his face.

Nicepool only smiled at him and put his hands together, "Guilty on all charges your honor. Shan't happen again" Nicepool bowed to Wade.

"Why are you so nice?" Wade asked, confused why this alternative version of him was so strange.

Nicepool once again smiled at him, "It cost nothing to be kind."

"Shutting the fuck up is also free," Logan added on, seemingly annoyed at the fact he was surrounded by technically three Deadpool's.

"Caliente!"

"This is Logan, he's usually shirtless but he let himself go since the divorce." Wade introduced as he tilted his head towards Logan, "And this little thing right here is Y/N, they're our little time jumper!" You wave a small wave, not wanting to be rude. Nicepool gave you a smile.

"Where's your mask?" Wade asked, a look of suspicion and maybe even a hint of envy on his face.

Nicepool, although still smiling, gave a confused look before regaining his happy demeanor, "Come on guys," He pointed at his face, a knowing look on his face.

Logan just looked disgusted and Wade was annoyed, "Ugh this guy, we're looking for a group of survivors."

"Oh they're out there, but merc to merc, you better hope you don't run into the Deadpool corp, yeah they're crazy!" Nicepool began to explain who they were and what they do, you've been in the void long enough to know who they were, fortunate enough to have never come face to face with them.

You didn't listen much after that conversation, only being asked by Nicepool if these hooligans were bothering you and if you'd like to go with him instead but you declined, more interested in leaving this place then having to be stuck with another Deadpool for the rest of eternity.

As you three were led through what seemed to be a corn maze you stumbled upon a car, that Wade did not seem to like one bit.

"No, no, no. Absolutely not, nu-uh what the- No, no" Wade continued to protest.

"Just get in the car" Logan told him, his tone already showing how he was getting annoyed.

"What's wrong with the car?" You asked Wade confused on why he didn't want to get in.

Wade looked offended when you asked him that, "This isn't a car, this is a Honda fuckin' Odyssey, throttle response sucks a cock, dated infotainment system. When Honda saw that the untreated chlamydia was makin' a comeback, they invented the Honda Odyssey to compete."

You looked at Wade, shocked at how much hate he held for the Honda Odyssey and at the relation he was able to make between chlamydia and a car.

"Get in the fucking car."

Nicepool smiled, his creepy little happy smile, "She'll get you there safe and sound, old Besty always does." Both you and Logan walked up to the car, getting ready to leave as soon as possible, "You're gonna have to give me my dog back though."

"I know. Listen, yes child.." Wade spoke to Mary Puppin's, as he pet her, showing his strange attachment to the furball, "If you ever wanna give her up, or if she needs a new home or if something should.. happen to you, I'd love to be her papa."

Nicepool laughed at Wade's subtle threat, "What would ever happen to me?"

Casually Wade replied, "Lots of stuff," This time the threat didn't seem to go over Nicepool's head.

He gave both you and Logan a nervous look, you could only reply with a sigh before you nudged Logan with your elbow, nodding towards Wade and the dog.

He sighed before standing up and walking towards the two, "Jesus" He muttered under his breathe.

Wade catching on quickly turned away, trying to run into the corn maze, being met with clear failure. "No! We're running away!"

You shook your head in disapproval still leaning on the car, "Give me that." Logan said grabbing the small dog from Wade's arms.

"We were so close girl" He tells Mary Puppins before she is given back to her rightful owner.

Logan handed Mary Puppins back to Nicepool, which then let him get into the car, while Wade slowly entered as well, clearly upset he wasn't able to take her with him. You got in as well, in the backseat of the car, giving a small wave to the little dog and her weird happy owner.

Logan started the car and began the long drive, giving you a little time to rest. Shockingly Wade didn't really speak much, until Logan got to the forest.

"Okay, I'm just gonna ask," Wade started off with, you slowly opened your eyes, still leaning against the window, your arms crossed as you listened in, "What's with the suit? First thing I did when I flamed out I took mine off."

"Drop it," Logan warned him.

"It's not that ugly,"

"Stop talking about my suit."

"Did you make it yourself? Been there."

"Quit. Now."

"The X-Men make you wear it? Those sons of fuckin' bitches. They are not your friends I'll tell you that!" Wade was not getting the hint at all, Logan looked as if he was about to burst, "Friends don't let friends leave the house looking like they fight crime for the Los Angeles Rams."

Logan replied snappily, not even looking away from the road for a second, "Shut the fuck up about this"

"Woah woah woah, watch your frown lines, angel baby, I'm just trying to bond a little bit."

"Yeah, well then talk about somethin' else," Logan let out an annoyed scoff.

"Fine!" Wade hesitantly said, you let out a quick sigh, thankful that Wade realized he should keep his mouth shut. Slowly you began to close your eyes again, hoping to get a little nap in during this ride.

Slowly but surely you drifted off to sleep, the exhaustion of today finally catching up with you. Although the peace wouldn't last long.

You had at least 15 seconds of nap time before the cars sudden stop made you hit your head against the back of Wade's seat.

"Ow!" You exclaimed, grabbing your forehead in your hands, Logan glanced at you, a glint of what you could only assume was worry evident on his face, before he turned back towards Wade.

"What do you mean if?" Logan's voice was raised, mad at whatever Wade had told him during your 15 second nap.

"I mean-"

"You lied to me, you don't have a fucking clue of they can help me fix things do you?"

"No I mean-" Before Wade could even finish his sentence Logan had let out his metal claws, digging them into Wade's leg.

You jumped back, a look of fear on your face, not worried that'd they attack you but that you'd get caught in the cross fire.

"Kid, get out of the car, now" Logan said, not even looking at you, his eyes stilled fixed on Wade. You knew you didn't have to listen twice, you quickly unlocked the door and jogged over to the thickest tree, hopping to use it as protection as the two men fought.

You thought the worst of it was over, you'd heard them yell a bit and assumed it was over once it went quiet but before you could walk back up to the car you saw Logan get thrown out of the car, that right there was your sign this would be an even longer day then it already was.

You watched for a bit before ultimately sitting down against a nearby tree and deciding you might as well take that nap now. You covered your ears and slowly drifted off to sleep.

You began to stir awake when you felt some arms around you and you heard the car turning on, but you assumed it was just one of them men thinking it was best to keep going on with the journey, so you put aside that thought and went back to sleep.

Until you suddenly were jolted awake by the sudden voice and quick movement of Wade, yelling what you assume was Thor.

#wolverine #deadpool #deadpool and wolverine #x reader #deadpool 3 #wolverine x reader #deadpool x reader #x men #marvel #logan howlett #wade wilson #teen reader #superheros #nicepool #mary puppins #dogpool

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amethystarachnid · 1 day ago

Note

Hey rose! I hope you're doing alright! I absolutely adore your Tony stark fics!! I hope you'd write one for Steve Rogers or loki. Can you write something with any one of them where their partner (reader) is very emotional, like cries at tv shows and books, can never NOT tear up when any of them say anything romantic or meaningful. And as much as they don't want their partner to cry, they feel really appreciated. Just loads of fluff! Thank you!<3🩵

P.s. ofc feel free to change or add anything you fell like. Appreciate it!

HAPPY TEARS

⤷ STEVE G. ROGERS

ᯓ★ Pairing: Steve G. Rogers x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Requests status: open

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Summary: You have always been the sensitive type, crying over movies and every sweet thing Steve did for you, and that's one of the reasons he loves you so much but, at the same it, it gets him worried for your possible reaction to the question that has been in his mind for sometime now.

ᯓ★ Word count: 8K

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing just pure fluff and just like a few words about a passionate night

ᯓ★ As always, since reader's gender isn't specified in the ask I'll write it as fem!reader because I'm a girl and it's what I'm more used to write, but if you want it to be with another gender are sure to specify it in your ask and I'll write it! <3

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafts through the air, warm and inviting. It greets you before you even open your eyes, a little luxury of the life you’ve built together. Your sleepy mind pieces together the familiar sounds of Steve moving around the kitchen—the soft clink of the coffee pot returning to its base, the gentle scrape of a plate across the counter.

He’s making breakfast.

The thought alone tugs at your heart. After seven years together, Steve Rogers still finds a way to make every morning feel special, no matter how ordinary. You pull the blanket tighter around you and close your eyes for a moment, letting the sound of his hums blend with the noise of the city beyond the window. It’s moments like these, the quiet ones, that remind you just how deeply you’re loved.

By the time you shuffle into the kitchen, still rubbing the sleep from your eyes, he’s plating up pancakes. He’s not wearing a shirt, just his gray sweatpants sitting low on his hips, and his blond hair is damp and tousled like he’s already gone for a run. It’s infuriating how good he looks, even at this hour.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he says, flashing you that boyish smile, the one that makes your stomach flip even now.

You give him a sleepy grin in return, padding toward him on bare feet. His hand automatically finds the small of your back as you lean into him, your cheek pressing against his chest. For a moment, there’s no one else in the world but the two of you.

“You didn’t have to get up so early,” you mumble against his skin, your voice still thick with sleep.

“You were out like a light,” he says, his hand running gently up and down your spine. “Figured I’d let you sleep in a little.” His voice is low, affectionate, and entirely too effective at making your heart melt.

When you pull back, he tips your chin up with one finger, his blue eyes scanning your face like it’s the first time he’s seen you. “Coffee?” he asks, already stepping away to grab your favorite mug from the counter.

You watch him pour the coffee, a soft smile playing on your lips. He’s careful, deliberate, like he’s handling something precious. And you suppose, in his eyes, he is.

As he hands you the mug, his fingers brush yours, sending a spark of warmth through you. The gesture is small but thoughtful, the way so many of his gestures are. Seven years, and he still makes you feel like you’re worth all the time and effort in the world.

The first sip of coffee is heavenly, and you sigh contentedly as you sink into one of the kitchen chairs. Steve sits across from you, his long legs stretching out under the table, and slides a plate of pancakes in your direction. “Banana chocolate chip,” he says. “Thought you might want something sweet today.”

Your eyes go wide. “You made these just for me?”

His laugh is soft and teasing. “Who else would I make them for?”

Your chest tightens at the sincerity in his voice, and before you can stop it, tears start to blur your vision.

Steve freezes mid-bite, his fork hovering in the air. “Hey,” he says gently, already moving his chair closer to yours. “What’s wrong?” His hand lands lightly on your knee, his thumb stroking small circles there.

You shake your head, letting out a watery laugh. “Nothing’s wrong. I just…” You glance down at the pancakes, overwhelmed by the sudden rush of emotions. “You made me pancakes.”

“Yeah,” he says slowly, clearly not understanding why that’s enough to turn you into a mess. “And?”

“And you made them the way I like them,” you sniff, wiping at your eyes. “With the chocolate chips on top, not mixed in, because you know I like the crunch.” Your voice cracks slightly, and you look up at him, feeling ridiculous for crying over pancakes. “You’re too good to me.”

His expression softens instantly, a mix of affection and bemusement. He moves his chair even closer, until his knees bump yours. “Sweetheart,” he says, cupping your face in his hands, his thumbs catching the stray tears. “It’s just pancakes.”

“No, it’s not,” you insist, your voice a little shaky. “It’s… it’s that you always think of these little things. You always go out of your way to make me happy.” You gesture toward the plate, then to him. “Even after all this time, you still do stuff like this.”

For a moment, he just looks at you, his expression unreadable. Then he smiles, leaning in to press his lips softly against your forehead. “I hope you know I don’t do any of this because I feel like I have to,” he murmurs. “I do it because I want to. Because seeing you happy is worth it. Every single time.”

His words are a balm, soothing the tight ache in your chest, and you let out a shaky laugh. “Well, congratulations,” you say, trying for levity. “You made me cry before breakfast again.”

“Again?” he echoes, chuckling softly. “I’m starting to think it’s my superpower.”

You can’t help but laugh at that, even as you swipe at your damp cheeks. “You’d give Tony a run for his money.”

“I’ll let him know,” Steve says with a wink, sliding the plate closer to you. “Now eat your pancakes before they get cold.”

You roll your eyes, but the teasing warmth in his tone makes you reach for your fork. The first bite is everything you expected—soft, sweet, and rich with the perfect balance of flavors. You moan appreciatively, and Steve grins at the sound, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“Good?” he asks, resting his chin on one hand as he watches you.

“Good,” you say around a mouthful of pancake, the tension in your chest easing with every bite.

For a while, the two of you eat in companionable silence, the kind that only comes from years of knowing and loving each other. Steve tells you about his run—how Sam gave him grief for being late to their meeting spot, how the park was unusually crowded this morning—and you listen with a soft smile, chiming in occasionally with little jokes or questions.

But even as the conversation flows, you can see the way Steve keeps glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, like he’s still trying to puzzle you out. He’s always been like this, endlessly patient, endlessly curious about the way your mind works.

Finally, he sets his fork down and leans back in his chair, studying you. “You know,” he says thoughtfully, “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how sensitive you are.”

You pause mid-bite, your fork hovering just shy of your lips. “Is that a bad thing?” you ask, suddenly self-conscious.

“Not at all,” he says quickly, his expression earnest. “I mean it in the best way. You feel everything so deeply, and… I don’t know. It amazes me, I guess. How you can look at something as simple as pancakes and see all the love behind it.”

Your cheeks warm at his words, and you glance down at your plate. “I don’t mean to make a big deal out of things,” you mumble. “I just… I can’t help it. When you do something sweet, it gets to me.”

He reaches across the table, his hand covering yours. “I don’t want you to help it,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “I love that about you. I love that you cry over movies and surprise gifts and little things like pancakes. It reminds me to slow down and appreciate those things too.”

You blink at him, your throat tightening all over again. “You mean that?”

“Every word,” he says, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “So, if you feel like crying over pancakes or anything else, go ahead. I’ll be here to catch the tears.”

It’s too much—his words, his presence, the unshakable love in his eyes. Before you can stop yourself, you’re crying again, this time out of sheer gratitude. Steve just laughs softly and moves to your side, pulling you into his arms like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“I love you,” you whisper against his chest, your voice trembling.

“I love you too,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the top of your head. “More than anything.”

Friday nights at the Tower are sacred—a time to unwind, laugh, and for Tony Stark to force his eclectic taste in movies on the rest of the Avengers. Tonight, the team has assembled in the massive home theater, complete with a state-of-the-art sound system, plush recliners, and enough snacks to sustain a small army.

You’re curled up next to Steve on one of the oversized couches, your legs tucked beneath you and your head leaning on his shoulder. His arm is draped casually around you, and he’s absently playing with the ends of your hair as Tony prowls the front of the room, remote in hand, his enthusiasm palpable.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Tony announces, dramatically pointing the remote like it’s a scepter, “tonight’s feature presentation is the cinematic masterpiece, Titanic.”

Groans ripple through the group.

“Tony, again?” Natasha asks, leaning back in her seat with a smirk. “You have a billion-dollar movie collection, and you keep picking this one.”

“It’s called having taste, Romanoff,” Tony retorts, tossing her a packet of Red Vines. “Some of us recognize greatness when we see it. This movie has it all: romance, drama, social commentary, and the single greatest piece of floating debris in cinematic history.”

“It’s a door,” Clint says flatly.

“It’s art,” Tony snaps back, dramatically clutching his chest like he’s been wounded.

Steve chuckles under his breath, squeezing your shoulder gently. “You okay with this one?” he asks, his voice low and warm. “We can always sneak out and watch something else.”

You shake your head, giving him a small, teary smile. “No, it’s fine. I just… I’m probably going to cry.”

“I know,” he says softly, brushing a kiss to your temple. “It’s okay.”

The others are still bickering as the lights dim and the iconic opening notes of James Horner’s score fill the room. You take a deep breath, already bracing yourself. You’ve seen Titanic before—enough times to know that you’re in for an emotional ride—but somehow, the anticipation makes it worse.

It doesn’t take long. By the time Rose boards the ship and gazes out at the ocean, your eyes are already brimming with tears. The sheer scale of the doomed ship, the haunting foreshadowing—it all hits you at once.

“Uh, are you okay?” Bruce whispers from the seat next to you, looking genuinely concerned.

“Yeah,” you manage, your voice thick. “I just… I know what’s going to happen.”

Steve, unfazed, reaches into the bowl of popcorn and pops a kernel into his mouth. “This is normal,” he explains casually to Bruce, his tone as calm as if he were describing the weather. “She gets emotional during movies. It’s just how she is.”

Bruce nods slowly, his brow furrowing like he’s trying to understand. “But… it’s barely started.”

“She’s a big feeler,” Steve says with a shrug, pulling you a little closer as your sniffles grow louder.

“Is someone crying already?” Tony hisses from the front row, twisting around to squint into the dim light. When his eyes land on you, he raises an eyebrow. “We haven’t even hit the iceberg. You know that, right?”

“She knows,” Steve replies evenly, not even looking up from the screen. He grabs a tissue from the box he always keeps nearby during movie nights—specifically for you—and hands it to you without missing a beat.

Tony’s jaw drops. “You brought tissues specifically for this?”

“Of course,” Steve says, as though it’s obvious. “It happens every time.”

The group exchanges looks, equal parts bewildered and amused, but Steve just leans down to kiss the top of your head. “You’re okay,” he murmurs, his voice soothing. “Just let it out.”

“Wow,” Clint says, his tone dripping with mock admiration. “You’re a braver man than I am, Rogers.”

The movie marches on, each scene tugging at your heartstrings with surgical precision. Jack and Rose meet. They fall in love. They dance in third class and spit off the back of the ship. By the time they’re standing on the prow, their arms spread wide as the wind rushes around them, you’re openly sobbing into Steve’s chest.

“Am I supposed to do something?” Bruce whispers, looking helplessly at Steve.

“Nope,” Steve replies, rubbing slow circles on your back. “Just let her cry. She’ll feel better afterward.”

“I’m not sure that’s how crying works,” Bruce mutters, but he stays quiet, occasionally passing you another tissue.

Tony, meanwhile, is watching you with thinly veiled amusement. “I’ve gotta ask,” he says during a quieter moment, “do you cry at every movie, or is this one just special?”

“Not every movie,” Steve says, his lips twitching into a small smile. “But most of them. Especially the ones with tragic endings.”

“That’s an understatement,” Natasha says dryly. “Remember Finding Nemo?”

Clint snorts. “Oh, that was legendary. We weren’t even five minutes in, and she was already bawling over the mom dying.”

Tony looks scandalized. “Finding Nemo? That’s a kids’ movie!”

“And yet…” Clint gestures toward you, now hiccupping softly as Jack and Rose sneak into the cargo hold for their iconic steamy scene.

“She just feels things deeply,” Steve says, his voice laced with affection. “It’s one of the things I love about her.”

Tony groans dramatically, throwing a handful of popcorn in Steve’s direction. “You’re making the rest of us look bad, Rogers. Stop being so disgustingly wholesome.”

“Not my fault you guys don’t bring tissues for your girlfriends,” Steve shoots back, his smirk widening.

By the time the ship hits the iceberg, the mood in the room has shifted. Even Tony has gone quiet, though he’s clearly trying to maintain his composure. You, on the other hand, are a wreck. The sight of the passengers scrambling for lifeboats, the haunting wails of the violinists playing “Nearer My God to Thee”—it’s too much.

Your sobs reach a crescendo as Jack and Rose cling to each other in the freezing water, their breaths ragged and visible in the frigid air. Steve adjusts his hold on you, tucking your head under his chin and murmuring soft reassurances.

“I’ll never let go, Jack!” Rose cries, her voice breaking.

You lose it completely, clutching at Steve’s shirt as though your own heart is breaking. Steve strokes your hair, his voice calm and steady. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m here.”

Tony, meanwhile, is blinking rapidly, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “What?” he says defensively when Clint raises an eyebrow at him. “It’s allergies. Big-screen projectors always make my eyes water.”

Natasha snickers. “Sure they do.”

As the credits roll, you’re still hiccupping softly, your face buried in Steve’s chest. He doesn’t seem to mind, his hand moving in a soothing rhythm along your back.

“Okay, that was… intense,” Bruce says, looking around the room like he’s not sure what just happened.

“I’m pretty sure I lost three pounds in tears,” Clint adds, tossing an empty box of tissues onto the table. “Do we have a hydration station somewhere?”

Tony sniffs loudly and stands, stretching his arms overhead. “Well, folks, that’s how you do cinema. Epic. Heartbreaking. Unforgettable.”

“Admit it, you cried,” Natasha says, smirking at him.

“I did no such thing,” Tony replies, looking deeply offended. “Unlike some people…” He gestures dramatically toward you, still snuggled against Steve.

“Hey,” Steve says with a shrug, his tone as casual as ever. “She’s passionate. It’s one of the reasons I love her.”

“You’re an actual saint,” Clint mutters, shaking his head.

You finally lift your head, your cheeks streaked with tears but your eyes shining with gratitude. “Thanks for letting me cry all over you,” you say softly to Steve, your voice still wobbly.

“Anytime,” he replies, his smile warm and unwavering. “You know I’ve got you.”

Tony groans loudly, throwing his hands in the air. “And this,” he says, gesturing wildly at the two of you, “is why I’m never inviting you to movie night again. You two are too cute, and it’s ruining the vibe.”

“Tony, you’re just mad because you cried,” Natasha quips.

“I did not cry!” Tony protests, his voice rising an octave.

Bruce chuckles, leaning back in his seat. “Whatever you say, Tony.”

As the group dissolves into laughter, Steve leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “You okay now?” he asks, his voice just for you.

You nod, your heart swelling with love for the man who always makes space for your emotions, no matter how messy they are. “I am,” you whisper. “Thanks to you.”

“Good,” he murmurs, pulling you close. “Because we’re definitely sneaking out before Tony picks another three-hour tearjerker.”

You laugh through the last of your sniffles, feeling safe and loved in his arms. As far as you’re concerned, there’s no better way to end a movie night.

After the emotional rollercoaster of Titanic, the Avengers agree on one thing: no more movies that could make you cry. Steve, ever the supportive boyfriend, gently suggests a comedy for the next round, earning nods from everyone in the room. Even Tony, slightly miffed from being accused (rightfully) of shedding a tear during Rose’s tearful farewell to Jack, throws in his agreement.

“Alright, team,” Tony announces, striding to the movie library with a flourish. “Since apparently, I’ve been overly ambitious in my cinematic choices, I’ll keep it light. Comedy. Laughs. Penguins falling over or something. Nobody cries at penguins, right?”

“Right,” you say with an encouraging smile, though your earlier sob session has left your voice hoarse.

Steve wraps an arm around your shoulder, his lips brushing your temple. “You sure you’re up for another movie?”

You nod enthusiastically. “I’m good. Something funny sounds perfect.”

The new movie is a slapstick comedy involving ridiculous pratfalls, a few over-the-top explosions (Tony’s insistence), and a hilarious subplot about a cat that keeps stealing its owner’s Wi-Fi password. It’s everything you need to decompress from the earlier emotional onslaught, and soon the room is filled with the sound of laughter.

Even Steve, who isn’t always in sync with modern humor, is chuckling at the absurd antics on screen. You’re curled up next to him, giggling into his shoulder as a character accidentally sets his kitchen on fire trying to make toast. Across the room, Tony and Clint are reenacting a particularly ridiculous dance scene, complete with exaggerated hip thrusts.

“See?” Tony says triumphantly, pouring himself another glass of whiskey. “This is how you do a movie night. Fun! Light! No tears.”

Natasha arches an eyebrow at him, clearly unimpressed by his theatrics. “Give it time, Stark. We’re not done yet.”

Hours later, after the comedy has ended and a few rounds of drinks have been poured, Tony somehow stumbles upon a nature documentary titled The Journey of Life. The cover features an adorable penguin waddling across a snowy landscape, and Tony declares it “perfect background noise.”

“This,” he slurs slightly, pointing at the screen, “is what we need. Penguins. Cute, waddling, ice-sliding penguins. No emotions. Just vibes.”

“Are we sure this is a good idea?” Bruce asks cautiously, but Tony is already pressing play, plopping down on the couch with a fresh drink in hand.

Steve looks at you, his eyebrow raised in question. “You okay with this?”

“It’s just penguins,” you reply with a shrug, snuggling into his side. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

At first, it’s exactly what Tony promised. The documentary opens with breathtaking shots of snowy mountains and vast, icy plains. The narrator’s soothing British accent describes the challenges of survival in the harsh Antarctic environment as a colony of emperor penguins waddles across the frozen landscape.

“Oh my god, look at them!” you exclaim, your eyes lighting up. “They’re so cute!”

“They’re ridiculous,” Tony says with a chuckle. “Like tiny, overdressed toddlers. I love them.”

Everyone relaxes, lulled by the majestic scenery and the gentle cadence of the narrator’s voice. Even Steve seems to be enjoying himself, his hand absentmindedly stroking your back as you watch the penguins slide on their bellies and huddle together for warmth.

It starts with a single penguin chick—fluffy, wide-eyed, and impossibly adorable. It stumbles away from the group, its tiny feet slipping on the ice as it struggles to keep up with its parents. The narrator explains, in heartbreakingly calm tones, that not every chick survives the journey to the feeding grounds.

“No,” you whisper, your hand flying to your mouth as the camera zooms in on the chick’s desperate waddling. “No, no, no. Someone help him!”

“It’s nature,” Clint says uncomfortably, shifting in his seat. “It happens.”

“Doesn’t mean we have to watch it!” Tony snaps, his earlier bravado evaporating. His face is red, and he’s gripping his whiskey glass a little too tightly.

Steve sighs, pulling you closer as your sniffles begin. “It’s just a documentary, sweetheart. It’s the circle of life.”

“Circle of life my ass,” Tony grumbles, his voice thick. “That chick deserves better.”

As the chick stumbles farther away, your tears begin in earnest. “He’s lost! He’s so little! Steve, he’s not going to make it, is he?”

Steve pats your back, his voice soft but resigned. “Probably not, sweetheart.”

“Why are we watching this?” Tony demands, pointing an accusatory finger at Bruce. “You should’ve stopped me! You’re the smart one!”

“I didn’t know it was going to get sad!” Bruce protests, throwing up his hands. “It’s a documentary about penguins!”

By the time the chick’s fate is sealed (you can’t even bring yourself to look as the narrator solemnly declares that it’s “a tragic but essential part of the ecosystem”), you and Tony are both a mess. You’re clutching Steve’s shirt, sobbing into his chest, while Tony sniffles loudly into his empty glass.

“It’s not fair,” you cry, your voice muffled. “He was just a baby!”

“I know,” Tony says, his voice cracking. “He didn’t even get a chance! He deserved a chance!” He gestures wildly at the screen. “Why didn’t they save him? Someone could’ve—”

“It’s a documentary,” Natasha interrupts dryly, though even she looks mildly uncomfortable. “No one’s interfering.”

“That’s barbaric,” Tony declares, wiping at his eyes. “I’m calling PETA.”

Steve kisses the top of your head, his hand running soothingly along your back. “You want to stop watching?” he offers quietly.

“No,” you hiccup, though you’re clearly still devastated. “I need to see if the others are okay.”

The documentary continues, alternating between moments of lighthearted penguin antics and devastating tragedies. Each time something sad happens, you and Tony are reduced to tears, much to the bemusement of the rest of the team.

By the end of the film, when the surviving penguins finally reach their feeding grounds and triumphantly slide into the water, you and Tony are clinging to each other like war survivors.

“That was horrific,” Tony declares, dabbing at his eyes with a napkin. “Whoever made that documentary is a monster. I need a drink.”

“You’ve had several drinks,” Natasha points out, rolling her eyes.

“Not enough to erase that from my memory,” Tony replies dramatically. He glances at you, his expression softening slightly. “You okay, cry queen?”

You manage a shaky smile. “I think so. That was just… a lot.”

Steve, ever your rock, kisses your temple and pulls you close. “I don’t think we’ll be watching documentaries again anytime soon,” he murmurs.

“Seconded,” Tony says, raising his glass. “To no more emotional devastation disguised as education. Who’s with me?”

“Agreed,” Clint says, shaking his head. “No more penguins. Ever.”

As the team dissolves into laughter and lighthearted teasing, you snuggle deeper into Steve’s arms, feeling safe despite the emotional rollercoaster. No matter how many tears you shed — or how often Tony joins you — you know you’ll always have the world’s most patient boyfriend by your side.

The tower is unusually quiet after the emotional whirlwind of the movie night. The penguins have long since waddled off the screen, the room cleaned up from the chaos of snack wrappers and spilled drinks. You’re asleep now, curled up on the couch with your head resting in Steve’s lap, the faint remnants of tears drying on your cheeks.

The others linger, nursing drinks or settling into the comfortable post-movie quiet. Steve’s hand moves gently over your hair, his touch instinctive and protective as he listens to the idle conversation around him.

“Poor thing,” Natasha says softly, nodding toward you. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone cry so much over a documentary.”

“Speak for yourself,” Clint retorts, jerking a thumb at Tony. “He went through an entire roll of tissues.”

Tony, leaning back in his chair with his drink in hand, glares. “It’s called empathy, Barton. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Empathy,” Natasha repeats dryly, raising an eyebrow. “Or maybe whiskey?”

“A little of column A, a little of column B,” Tony mutters, waving her off. His gaze flicks toward you, then back to Steve. “You’ve got the patience of a saint, Rogers. How do you do it?”

Steve chuckles softly, looking down at you with a fondness so deep it’s almost tangible. “I love her,” he says simply, his voice quiet but steady. “She feels everything so deeply, and yeah, that means a lot of tears, but it’s also what makes her so special. She’s got the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever met.”

“Aww,” Clint says, his tone mocking but not unkind. “Cap’s going all gooey on us.”

Steve shakes his head with a smile, but there’s something thoughtful in his expression, something weighing on him. He glances at the team, then back at you, as if debating whether to say more. Finally, after a moment’s hesitation, he clears his throat.

“There’s actually something I’ve been meaning to talk to you all about,” he begins, his voice low. “I want to ask her to marry me.”

The room goes still. Natasha blinks, her eyebrows lifting slightly. Bruce, who’s been quietly sipping his tea, looks up with a small, surprised smile. Tony leans forward, suddenly all ears.

“Well, that’s not shocking,” Clint says, breaking the silence. “You’ve been together, what, seven years? We were wondering when you were going to pop the question.”

Steve nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, it’s been a while. I’ve known for a long time that she’s the one. But…” He hesitates, his eyes dropping to your sleeping form. His hand brushes a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch featherlight. “I’m scared.”

“Scared of what?” Bruce asks gently.

Steve lets out a soft sigh, his brow furrowing. “Her reaction. She’s so sensitive, and she gets overwhelmed easily. What if I ask and she has a panic attack? Or starts crying so much she can’t even answer me? I just… I don’t want to put her through that.”

Tony snorts. “You’re worried she’s going to cry? Newsflash, Rogers: she cries when you bring her coffee in bed. This is a proposal, man. Of course she’s going to cry.”

“Tony,” Natasha says, shooting him a warning look. “He’s being serious.”

“I am serious,” Tony retorts. “Look, she’s emotional, yeah, but she’s not fragile. She loves you, Rogers. That’s the whole point. She’s not going to freak out because you ask her to marry her—well, not in a bad way, at least.”

Steve looks unconvinced. “I know she loves me,” he says quietly. “But I also know how overwhelming things can be for her. I don’t want to put her in a position where she feels pressured or out of control.”

Natasha tilts her head, studying him with that sharp, analytical gaze of hers. “So don’t make it overwhelming,” she says simply. “You don’t have to plan some elaborate proposal. Just talk to her. Make it quiet, intimate. Something that feels safe.”

“Yeah,” Bruce adds, his tone thoughtful. “She’s not the kind of person who needs a big show, is she? She’d probably appreciate something small, just the two of you.”

Steve nods slowly, his mind working through their words. “You’re right. She doesn’t like big gestures. She always says the little things matter more to her.”

“Exactly,” Natasha says. “So make it one of those little things. Something simple but meaningful.”

Tony, who’s been uncharacteristically quiet for the past minute, suddenly speaks up. “And if she does cry,” he says, his voice unusually soft, “it’s not because she’s scared or upset. It’s because she loves you so much she doesn’t know how else to show it.”

The room falls silent at that, the weight of Tony’s words settling over them. Steve looks around at his teammates—his family—and lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“Thanks,” he says softly. “I needed to hear that.”

“Anytime,” Natasha replies, a rare smile tugging at her lips.

The apartment is quiet, the kind of warm, serene quiet that feels like a cocoon against the bustling world outside. It’s just the two of you tonight, the city’s hum dimmed by the thick curtains and the steady rhythm of the life you’ve built together. Dinner was simple but perfect—Steve made your favorite meal, and you couldn’t stop laughing when he got flour on his nose halfway through baking the dessert. Now, the dishes are done, the candles still flicker softly on the dining table, and the scent of warm vanilla lingers in the air.

Steve’s been acting a little off all evening. Not in a bad way, but in that telltale way that you’ve come to recognize over the years. He’s quieter than usual, thoughtful, his blue eyes darting to you and away as though he’s trying to solve a puzzle in his head. You’ve asked him twice if everything’s okay, and both times he’s smiled at you and said, “Of course,” before steering the conversation somewhere else.

You’re curled up on the couch now, a blanket draped over your lap as you sip the last of your wine. Steve sits beside you, his arm stretched along the back of the couch, his fingers occasionally brushing your shoulder. His gaze lingers on you, soft and reverent, like you’re the only thing in the world worth looking at.

“Steve,” you say, turning to him with a playful smile. “You’re staring.”

“Am I?” he replies, though he doesn’t look away. His lips curve into that small, lopsided grin you adore, and your heart does its familiar flip-flop in your chest.

“Yes, you are,” you tease, nudging his leg with your foot. “What’s on your mind?”

For a moment, he doesn’t answer. His hand moves to brush a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle and deliberate, as though he’s memorizing the shape of you. Then he leans back slightly, his hand slipping into his pocket.

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about,” he says, his voice calm but carrying a weight that makes your stomach flutter.

Your brows knit together as you sit up straighter. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s more than okay,” he says softly, and there’s a flicker of nervousness in his eyes now, a vulnerability that catches you off guard. He shifts, moving from the couch to kneel in front of you, his hands resting lightly on your knees.

Your heart skips. “Steve—”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, velvet box. The sight of it steals the breath from your lungs, and you clasp a hand over your mouth as tears instantly pool in your eyes.

“I know how you’re feeling right now,” Steve says gently, his voice steady despite the faint blush creeping up his neck. “And I need you to take a deep breath for me, okay?”

You try—really, you do—but the tears are already spilling over, and a choked laugh escapes you as you press your fingers to your lips. Steve smiles, his thumb brushing over your knee.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, his voice soft and full of affection. He opens the box, revealing a stunningly simple yet beautiful ring—a delicate gold band with a single, glittering diamond. It’s understated and timeless, just like him, and it’s so perfect you can barely breathe.

“Y/N,” he begins, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’ve loved you for seven years. From the first moment we met, I knew there was something about you, something I couldn’t let go of. You’ve taught me what it means to live in the present, to love with my whole heart, and to find joy in the little things.”

Your tears are flowing freely now, and you’re shaking your head as though you can’t believe what’s happening. Steve chuckles softly, his own eyes glistening.

“You’ve stood by me through everything,” he continues. “Through battles, through doubts, through all the times I’ve struggled to figure out where I fit in this world. You’ve always been my home, my safe place. And I can’t imagine spending another day without you by my side.”

He pauses, his voice catching slightly, and for a moment, you see a flicker of vulnerability in his expression. “I know how deeply you feel things, and I know this might be overwhelming for you. But I promise, sweetheart, you don’t have to say anything right away. I just need you to know how much I love you.”

He takes a deep breath, his gaze unwavering. “So, Y/N,” he says, his voice trembling just the tiniest bit. “Will you marry me?”

The question lands like a thunderclap in your chest. You’re crying so hard now that you can barely see him through the blur of your tears. You try to speak, to form words, but they come out in a jumble of half-sobs and gasps.

“Steve—oh my god—I—” You press your hands to your cheeks, overwhelmed by the flood of emotions coursing through you. “I—I don’t—”

Steve waits patiently, his hands still steady on your knees, his expression soft and understanding. “Take your time, sweetheart,” he says quietly.

“I love you,” you finally manage to choke out, your voice trembling. “So much. You don’t even know—I just—”

Steve smiles, the kind of smile that feels like sunlight breaking through clouds. “I think I have an idea,” he says softly.

You laugh through your tears, shaking your head as you try to pull yourself together. “Yes,” you finally gasp, your voice breaking on the word. “Yes, Steve. Of course, yes.”

His breath leaves him in a rush, and his smile widens into something radiant as he slips the ring from the box and gently slides it onto your finger. It fits perfectly, and you stare at it through your tears, your heart bursting with so much love you think you might actually explode.

“I love you,” Steve says, his voice thick with emotion as he pulls you into his arms. You cling to him, your face buried in his shoulder as you sob into his shirt. He holds you tightly, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other wrapped securely around your waist.

“I love you too,” you whisper against his neck, your voice muffled and shaky. “So much. I can’t believe this is real.”

“It’s real,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your temple. “You’re mine, and I’m yours. Always.”

You pull back just enough to look at him, your tears still streaming but your smile brighter than the stars. “You’re too good to me,” you say, your voice trembling. “I don’t deserve you.”

Steve shakes his head, his thumb brushing away a stray tear from your cheek. “You deserve the world, Y/N,” he says simply. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to give it to you.”

You laugh again, a soft, breathless sound, and Steve leans in to kiss you, his lips gentle but full of promise. It’s the kind of kiss that makes the world fall away, leaving only the two of you, wrapped in the kind of love that feels eternal.

When you finally pull apart, you rest your forehead against his, your hands cupping his face as you whisper, “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Steve’s smile is soft, his eyes shining with unspoken emotion. “Me neither,” he says quietly. “Me neither.”

The morning sun streams through the windows, bathing the room in a golden light that feels impossibly warm and perfect. You stir under the rumpled sheets, the fabric soft against your bare skin, and the memories of the night before come rushing back. It had started tender, Steve’s hands moving over you with a reverence that left you breathless. But the sweetness had given way to something deeper, more passionate—an expression of love so consuming that it had left you both utterly undone.

Beside you, Steve shifts, his arm tightening around your waist as he presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Good morning, my beautiful bride-to-be,” he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep and full of affection.

Your heart clenches immediately, and before you can stop yourself, tears well up in your eyes. You press your hands to your face, a choked laugh escaping as you try—and fail—to keep it together.

“Oh no,” Steve says with a chuckle, propping himself up on one elbow. “I didn’t even say anything that emotional this time.”

“You called me your bride-to-be,” you manage to say through your tears, your voice trembling with joy. “How am I supposed to handle that, Steve?”

He laughs softly, his hand brushing over your hair as he pulls you closer. “Sweetheart, if this is how you’re going to react every time I call you that, I’m in trouble. Because I plan on saying it a lot.”

You let out a watery laugh, burying your face in his chest. His skin is warm and familiar, and his steady heartbeat beneath your cheek feels like home. “I’m sorry,” you mumble. “I don’t mean to cry so much. I’m just… so happy.”

“I know,” he says gently, his fingers trailing soothingly down your back. “And I love you for it.”

After a while, your tears subside, and you lift your head to meet his gaze. His blue eyes are soft and full of love, and the way he’s looking at you makes your breath catch. “Good morning,” you say softly, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “My handsome fiancé.”

His grin widens at your words, and he leans in to kiss you, slow and sweet. “I like the sound of that,” he says against your lips. “Fiancé. And soon, husband.”

You feel your cheeks heat, your heart fluttering in your chest. “I can’t believe this is real,” you say quietly, tracing a finger along his jaw. “I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and it’ll all be a dream.”

“It’s real,” Steve assures you, his tone steady and full of certainty. “You’re mine, and I’m yours. Nothing’s ever going to change that.”

The moment stretches between you, filled with a quiet, glowing warmth that feels too perfect to be real. But it is real, and as you lie there in his arms, you can’t imagine anything more perfect.

Eventually, Steve glances at the clock and sighs. “We should probably get up,” he says reluctantly. “The others are going to want to know.”

You groan, burying your face in the pillow. “Do we have to tell them today? Can’t we just stay here a little longer?”

Steve laughs, pulling the blanket off of you just enough to expose your shoulder. “As much as I’d love to keep you all to myself, they’re going to find out eventually. Might as well tell them now before Tony starts making bets.”

You sigh dramatically but can’t help smiling as you roll over to look at him. “Fine,” you say, your tone mock-annoyed. “But if I start crying again, it’s your fault.”

“I’ll take full responsibility,” he promises, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

An hour later, you’re dressed and ready, though your face is still a little puffy from all the happy tears. Steve holds your hand as you step into the elevator, his thumb brushing soothing circles over your skin. You feel nervous for some reason, though you know the team will be thrilled. It’s just that sharing something so personal, so precious, feels a little daunting.

“Hey,” Steve says softly, squeezing your hand. “It’s going to be fine. They love you.”

You nod, taking a deep breath as the elevator doors slide open to reveal the common room. The Avengers are scattered around the space, Tony sprawled on the couch with a cup of coffee, Natasha and Clint engaged in what looks like a very serious game of chess, and Bruce flipping through a book at the kitchen counter. Thor is munching on a Pop-Tart, his expression as cheerful as ever, while Sam lounges in a nearby chair, scrolling through his phone.

Tony is the first to notice you. “Well, well,” he says, setting his coffee down and smirking. “If it isn’t our golden couple. What’s with the glowing faces? Did Rogers finally tell you about his collection of antique baseball cards?”

“Tony,” Natasha says without looking up from the chessboard, her tone a mix of exasperation and amusement. “Let them talk.”

Steve clears his throat, his hand still firmly holding yours. “Actually,” he begins, glancing at you with a small, encouraging smile. “We have some news.”

At that, everyone looks up, their interest piqued. Clint leans back in his chair, raising an eyebrow. “This should be good.”

You feel your cheeks heat under their collective gaze, but Steve’s presence beside you keeps you grounded. “We’re engaged,” you blurt out, unable to keep the words in any longer. “Steve proposed last night.”

The room erupts. Natasha and Bruce smile warmly, their congratulations genuine and heartfelt. Thor lets out a booming laugh and claps Steve on the back so hard he nearly stumbles. Sam grins, shaking his head as he mutters, “About time.” Clint whistles, looking impressed, while Tony raises his coffee mug in a mock toast.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Tony says, his smirk softening into something almost genuine. “Congrats, lovebirds. I guess this means I need to start planning the bachelor party.”

Steve groans, and you laugh despite yourself, leaning into his side as the team continues to shower you with affection and teasing remarks. It’s chaotic and overwhelming, but it’s also full of love, and as you look around the room, you realize just how lucky you are to have this family.

Later, when things have settled down, Steve pulls you aside, his hand resting lightly on your waist. “See?” he says softly, his blue eyes twinkling. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You smile up at him, your heart full to bursting. “No,” you admit. “It wasn’t bad at all.”

He leans down to kiss you, his lips brushing against yours with a tenderness that makes your knees weak. “I love you, future Mrs. Rogers,” he murmurs, and once again, you find yourself wiping away happy tears.

The day has arrived. Months of planning, fittings, tastings, and a thousand little decisions have all led to this moment, and yet, standing in the bridal suite of the church, you feel like you might burst into tears before you even set foot down the aisle.

You’re wearing the dress you spent weeks obsessing over. It fits like a dream, a shimmering vision of white and lace that flows around you like a fairytale. Natasha, your bridesmaid—and perhaps the most patient person you’ve ever met—stands beside you, hands on your shoulders, trying to keep you from falling apart.

“Y/N,” she says firmly, her green eyes meeting yours in the mirror. “You’ve got to hold it together. You’re going to ruin your makeup if you start crying now.”

“I know, I know,” you say, fanning your face with trembling hands as you try to will away the tears. “It’s just… everything’s so perfect, and I’m so happy, and—oh my god, Nat, what if I trip?”

“You’re not going to trip,” she says, her voice calm but decisive. “You’ve practiced this. You’re wearing sensible heels. You’ve got Tony holding onto you like a lifeline. You’ll be fine.”

At the mention of Tony, you glance toward the door, where he’s pacing just outside. Your “man of honor” had insisted on walking you down the aisle, and though he’d tried to play it cool, you could see the emotion brimming behind his bravado. He’d barely been able to get through the rehearsal without tearing up, and now you’re both in danger of becoming sobbing messes before the ceremony even begins.

“I saw him wiping his eyes earlier,” you say with a sniffle, a hint of a laugh breaking through. “If he cries, I’m done for. I’ll start sobbing right there in the aisle.”

“Then don’t look at him,” Natasha advises, picking up a tissue and dabbing at the corners of your eyes. “Keep your eyes on Steve. That’s the goal, remember? Just make it to him without crying.”

At the mention of Steve, your chest tightens with a rush of love so overwhelming it’s almost too much to bear. You picture him standing at the end of the aisle, waiting for you, his blue eyes soft and full of adoration. The thought is enough to make you inhale sharply, and Natasha quickly steps in, snapping her fingers in front of your face.

“Focus,” she says sternly. “Breathe. You’ve got this.”

You nod, taking a deep, shaky breath as you try to calm yourself. “Okay. Okay, I can do this.”

Natasha gives you a small, approving smile. “That’s my girl.”

The door opens slightly, and Tony pokes his head in, his face immediately softening when he sees you. “Wow,” he says, his voice unusually quiet. “You look… wow.”

“Thanks, Tony,” you say, your voice wavering. “You’re going to make me cry.”

“Don’t you dare,” Natasha warns, pointing a finger at him. “I just got her under control.”

Tony steps into the room, straightening his tie as he tries to compose himself. “Okay, okay, no crying. But seriously, Y/N, you look… breathtaking. Steve’s going to lose it when he sees you.”

The lump in your throat grows, and you press a hand to your mouth, willing yourself not to cry. Tony steps closer, taking your hand in his and squeezing gently. “Hey,” he says softly. “You’re going to be amazing. And if you cry, who cares? It’s your wedding day. You get a free pass.”

You laugh through the tears threatening to spill, nodding as you squeeze his hand back. “Thanks, Tony.”

He grins, his usual bravado creeping back in. “Besides, if anyone’s going to cry, it’s me. I’m already a wreck. You’ll have to carry me down the aisle at this rate.”

Natasha rolls her eyes, but her smile is fond. “You two are a mess,” she says, shaking her head. “Come on, it’s time.”

Tony offers his arm, and you take it, your fingers trembling slightly as you hold on. The doors to the bridal suite swing open, and you catch a glimpse of the decorated aisle, lined with flowers and softly glowing candles. The music starts, and your heart pounds in your chest as you take your first step forward.

The church is full of familiar faces, but you barely register them. Your eyes are fixed on the man standing at the end of the aisle, his gaze locked onto yours. Steve looks devastatingly handsome in his tuxedo, his expression a mixture of awe and love that makes your knees weak.

As you and Tony make your way down the aisle, you hear him sniffle beside you. “Damn it,” he mutters, dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief. “I said I wasn’t going to cry.”

You can’t help but laugh softly, your own tears threatening to spill again. But Natasha’s words echo in your mind, and you keep your focus on Steve, drawing strength from the love shining in his eyes.

Finally, you reach the altar, and Tony steps back, giving your hand to Steve with a small, emotional smile. Steve’s hands are warm as they take yours, and his voice is steady as he whispers, “You’re beautiful.”

And that’s it. The tears spill over, and you laugh through them, shaking your head as Steve gently brushes them away with his thumbs. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I told myself I wasn’t going to cry.”

“I don’t mind,” he says softly, his voice full of affection. “I love that you feel so much. It’s one of the things I love most about you.”

The ceremony begins, and though the tears continue to flow, they’re tears of joy, shared by more than just you and Tony. By the time you say “I do,” the entire room feels wrapped in the warmth of the love you and Steve share, a love that shines brighter than any tears.

we need more soft fics in this sea of smut! (I like smut fics too but like...sometimes I just want something fluffy)

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beemovieerotica · 13 hours ago

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Learning g you went to Catholic school explains so much actually. Also what the fuck was wrong with your psych teacher

he was genuinely a really cool guy, like for all the clownery he was a deeply compassionate person and I know that sounds SO wild after talking about him bloodily faking his death in front of his students lmao

I was getting lowkey bullied in one of his classes - there was a girl who sat next to me who would do shit like mime punching the back of my head whenever my back was turned to get laughs out of other kids. the teacher got her to stop without me saying anything or risking physical escalation - fucking difficult to do if you know the type of personality involved here. one time later though she straight up took an exam I just got back and started copying the answers off it since she had to do a make-up test. I was like. Ok. This could be bad for me. zero tolerance college prep school where I could be expelled for "providing answers"

I ended up going to the teacher and being like "hey...is the make-up test that some people have to do going to be the exact same questions?" and he's like "...why are you asking this?"

ended up dancing around the point for a while until it clicked for him and he's like oh. ok, is this about ____? I didn't say anything and he just kind of looked at me and went "ok I'll handle it."

he ended up staging this big talk with each and every one of his classes. he went on a rant about a "recent uptick in cheating" and during each talk he said "and I'm not doing this just for this class. I'm doing this because I saw [x y z] happen in my other period" and I know I said the man couldn't convincingly fake his own death, but he sold it to us, and the dumbass bully bought it and then laid low until the semester ended and I was out of there, and I didn't get penalized for her behavior

he did a lot to try to reach out to me when I was going through the trenches of being a high school closeted queer. he lent me CDs when I said I liked certain types of music and would always try to strike up conversation. I miss him lol

#ask #beemovieerotica lore

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hyperboreus · 2 days ago

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i just saw one where they do this fake “i didn’t measure right so i’m giving you the biggest portion” which i hate for a multitude of reasons which include: faking scarcity, relationship pop quiz, recording someone without their consent, implying that women or women presenting partners are always the ones that cook, etc.

but this particular dude. looked at his gf’s plate. looked back at her and said: “good. you could use to skip a meal.”

me and this girl are both flabbergasted. wtf did you just say. so she asks “what?” in this incredibly offended tone. giving my brother an undeserved opportunity to swerve away from disaster.

no. man opens his G*d given mouth and states louder: “didn’t you hear me? you can skip a meal.”

and then. after the most intense pause of our collective lives.

“or two.”

where are people on tiktok finding these supervillain boyfriends? wdym your boyfriend got you A SCALE for your birthday completely unprompted?

#misoginy #weight issues #idk how to tag this

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axoqiii · 4 months ago

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another p5r art dump hiiiiieii 😢😢😢

#fem shuake #akiras a bit of a freak but like hey a pretty girl is threatening her w a knife whats a girl to do...#im back !!!!!! i finished the entirety of p5r for the first time !!!!!! im so #third semester....... third semester...... third semeste #i battled through the whole thing with just royal trio because. well because yiou see. stares at u with my big teary eyes #i feel like those miserable seal pictures #No!!!! no i still havent recovered this may stick with me for the rest of my life. look at what uve done atlus #i am a mere husk of who i once was...... true ending killed my joy and whimsy... nothing to smile about in life anymore #tje theb the dates after maruki palace where u say goodbye to everyone and the thieves start planning for their future 😭😭😭😭 uhag g aghh #shuake #akeshu #kurusu akira #akira kurusu #amamiya ren #ren amamiya #sumire yoshizawa #yoshizawa sumire #yusuke kitagawa #kitagawa yusuke #p5r #persona 5 royal #persona 5 #my art

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deus-ex-mona · 3 months ago

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scrolled a little too far back on mogetwt and found pure gold:

#i miss mitsumona… i love asumona y e s but mitsumona~~~~~~~~~~~~~~#‘where were you when this part of idol sengen was being serialised?’ trapped outside due to regionlock s o b s #man… looking at idol sengen on piccoma again like. gosh. 7.9 million hearts/likes so trueeeee #which do you think we’ll get first: mitsuki mv (a la gijirenai) or idol sengen s2?#the crumbs we get of her in mona mvs isnt enoughhhhhhhh aaaaa #even a 1 image mv would do!!! just give us a tiny bit more of her plsssss #i wanna know what made mona such a huge fan of hers~~~~~~~#though. the way mona specifies that she only likes girl idols will forever be funny to me #she really can’t care less about lxl huh… so true of her tbh #girl idols are a m a z i n g (<-weakling who tears up while watching love live live recordings)#like. man. props to the casting directors or sth bc. m a n their stage presence is unreal for idol vas #like waaaaaaaaaaaaaaa if you told me the vas were idols themselves id believe you #rkk was so cute. and aik.yan was super cool (esp during her solo) a n d ain.ya was both cute and cool and!!!!!!!!!#but um!!!! i digress!!!! anyways stan girl idols (esp mona) lxl w h o—#i think i’ll forever be envious of those who’ll be able to watch nan.su’s mona oneman live though… no foreigners allowed (how sad)…#though y’all should def check out some of nan.su’s other songs!! her powerful songs are so cool (imo)…#but i think she’s actually really good at singing songs with cheering/chanting portions lmfaooo the monachan lives on #i think hw should give mona more cool-ish songs though… let nan.su show off her range!!!#though. while im on the topic. i think sena should have cool songs too. narumi sisters cool song p l s s s s s #(bc my hot take over here is that hw doesn’t let their vas show off their full range *c o u g h s* i m e a n—)#what am i even on anymore h e l p started on mitsumona ended up in narumi sisters cool song desires…#anyways!!!! stream silent sword (both the og by ama.miya sora and the cover by nan.su) that’s all goodbye

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olivexing · 4 months ago

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Olympe is smitten. He MUST meet this dancer.

Olympe doesn’t understand corset laces, but he helps out anyway. The dancer seems surprisingly familiar….Ben DOESN’T want him to recognize her. But Ben DOES want to get to know Olympe, her strange merman friend from the docks.

They take a lil walk out to the beach:

And they get to talkin’….

Now I think there should be a g/t interruption.

Should they get to kiss? Should the kiss itself trigger a transformation back into Olympe’s giant merman form? Should he try to run off, and she follows him to the sea? She knows at this point that he’s a sea monster, but he doesn’t know that she’s a woman- and a dancer, at that!

What’s a girl to do? How should Ben reconcile these two identities, as a boy by day and girl by night?

Open to ideas on where to take this scenario in a ✨ g/t direction ✨ involving Olympe’s secret giant merman self 🧜‍♀️

#I do think it will culminate into her revealing that she is a woman….that she is his friend from the docks #like something triggers the shift back to being a giant merman again and he’s embarrassed to transform in front of this girl he doesnt know #and he’s super embarrassed and runs off. but maybe she follows him back to the sea!#g/t #giant tiny #size difference #ben #olympe #I think she’s afraid of losing respect from her colleagues if her gender identity gets discovered #this story is half baked and I honestly am open to suggestions on how to get more g/t situations in it. it’s my lil self indulgent au #mermaid #merman #mermaid to human #mermaid au #merman transformation #giant merman #cross dressing #crossdresser #I think five years ago I played with a version of this scenario where she gets discovered to be a cross dressing woman at sea #and she gets thrown overboard during a drunken frat-like bullshit situation. and olympe jumps overboard to save her. little cliche but.#it’s my au and I can do what I want!!!!!!!!

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pastelaspirations · 2 hours ago

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AAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKK, CRRYIINGGGGG, WAIT, WAIT, HOLD ON, WAIT

OH MY GOOODDDDDDDDDDDDD, HE'S SO FREAKING CUTTEEEE, MY SHY LIL BABY BOIIIII, AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-

I'M CRYING, MAN, I'M CRYING. O K A Y. FIRST OFF. I can't stress enough how. Freaking shocked I get when people draw my versions, okay.

AND I SHOULDN'T. I SHOULDN'T, OKAY. I SHOULD BE USED TO IT BY NOW.

But n o. Literally every time. Every single time I see one of my bois, or one of my girls if drawn using the official genderbent versions lmao, without fail. I just stare in astonishment and go "OH MY GOSH, THEY DREW THEM EXACTLY AS HOW I IMAGINED THEM-"

....Can you see why this is stupid.

I have the literal, actual, canon reference sheets on my blog. I draw them more often than I don't. I am literally handing the "how to draw my characters exactly as how I see them" on a silver freaking platter, I should not be surprised-

ANYWAY, ANYWAY, HE IS SO FREAKING CUTE. I LOVE HIM SO MUCH. WE GOT THE FULLY COLORED VERSION WHERE HE LOOK SO SWEET AND SHY AND CUTE. T H E N, T H E N, WE GOT BROOMIE, ALL GLAMMED UP LIKE IT USUALLY IS. THEN WE GOT SHY INK, WE GOT DISSOCIATING, EMOTIONLESS INK, AND THEN ANGY, "ABOUT TO LET YA HAVE IT" INK✧˖°.

Also just. The lil grinning Ink in the corner. I am w h e e z i n g. He looks like such a scrunkly, happy little goofball for once. He looks like he just told the stupidest joke ever and knows it. So he's just sitting there, grinning and snickering at his own freaking joke like a moron.

You know what, you deserve it, Ink. Freaking laugh at your own stupid joke, let's go, that's so incredibly based ngl-

GUYS GUYS GUYS GOOO read ''Perseverance'' by @pastelaspirations !! ABSOLUTELY beautiful story that had me hooked since the start.

I am so obsessed with this fic and can only ever think about it everyday. At work or at home it is STUCK in my head.

If I hyperfixate on an AU of an AU it means it's GOOODD. READ IT !!!!

#I'm crying thank you so much #ALSO SCREAMING #I'M HAVING SO MANY PEOPLE RECOMMEND MY FIC TO STRANGERS NOW I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO #I'm also just. Holding my head in despair #You linked my blog and when you hover over it; you just #See shitpost after shitpost #Like w h a t #LIKE THE MENTAL DISCONNECT MAN #TELLING PEOPLE TO READ THIS AMAZING FIC THAT YA FOUND SO YOU LINK THE AUTHOR'S TUMBLR #AND IT'S JUST *FULL* OF LITERAL SHITPOSTS-#People just looking at it like “Are you serious; this is the actual author-”#Y e s. Unfortunately #L i s t e n #I know how to write intelligently and eloquently #I j u s t c a n ' t d o i t f o r m y b l o g #Or my author's notes tbh #O o o seeing your tag about working with students #That's so cool; man. I'm in a class rn teaching me how to teach languages to students #Thank youuu maaan. I relate to this Ink so much too tbh #A lot of it is because I project an unhealthy amount onto him #✧˖°.Can't feel alone if ya main writing inspiration suffers from literally everything you do✧˖°.#Except not. I deliberately didn't let Ink suffer from insomnia even though I absolutely do lmao #C r y i n g. Yes I know; his character development is literally off the walls insane #Y e s. This fic is my long; niche excuse to write an Errorink shipfic with all the mental trauma/psychological horror that I wanted #I have a very unhealthy attachment to Errorink okay-

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clowningaroundmars · 7 months ago

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prowlerbyte hcs

ok..... yall got me. you did. i ship prowlerbyte now 😅 and i'd like to throw out some Thoughts about them bc damnit if this ship doesn't have some Flavor to it that i'd like to share with you all 🤌

both margo and miles g here are from earth 42 tho bc i think miles g has been thru Enough and he deserves someone in his corner in his own universe, besides his family members

LOTS of words under the cut ↓

♡ weirdgirl nerd x edgyboy nerd 100%… you just KNOW IT. miles is absolutely a geek either for comics or anime and he only opens up to his closest friends to let them see that side of him, no one else. margo brings that side out of him often when they meet up (but miles is still p reserved if anyone else is with them)

♡ margo is a fantastic singer and hums mind-blowing runs as easily as she breathes and miles absolutely loves it. when she's depressed, she sings a lot less so whenever she DOES sing that's how he knows she's in a good mood. he loves having her over bc he gets to pull out uncle aaron's old secondhand record player and place rnb and 90's hiphop vinyls on it, playing soulful music that she hums to as they parallel-play or do homework together

♡ when margo first convinced miles to let her do his hair, he was hella worried that his mom would disapprove and chastise him once she saw but she was surprisingly very supportive of it, although a bit hesitant. eventually she was grateful she didnt have to braid her son's hair as often (being a single parent is exhausting enough lol)

♡ rio42 ofc had the same reaction to margo as rio1610 when she 1st met gwen, but when margo eventually started showing up more and more to hang out with the morales fam (and aaron too lol), she grew on rio. they both keep a close eye on miles and try to keep him going towards the right path

♡ in their universe they both go to visions and even have a class together, and they are both very very academically competitive. rio doesn't need to stay on miles' ass about his grades bc margo is right there taunting him with an A+ on a test every single time

♡ they actually ACTUALLY study together in the library or in miles' room during study sessions. neither of them can afford to fall off wrt their grades and they both have big dreams they wanna achieve: margo wants to become a hardlight technician and apply for oscorp (much to miles' chagrin), and miles wants to continue his engineering and robotics career so he can provide for his whole family

♡ margo's parents constantly fighting means she is often over at miles' house more than he is at hers. it actually took her an embarrassingly long amount of time to finally invite him over because she never wanted her parents to know he even existed, let alone actually meet him at all. miles was at first kinda offended she didn't want him to meet her parents even after they got together but when he heard them arguing in the background during a call one day, he finally Understood

♡ after he found out about her crappy home life (and also secretly told rio), she was welcome to stay more often at his place. she has a blanket, a few clothes and several diff books and console games lying around in his room

♡ it honestly also took them both a ridiculously long time to finally start dating. everyone around them shipped them but they remained friends for a long time bc miles was just too closed off and scared to let anyone into his private life like that. also i hc they are both on the ace spectrum but don't realize it until later (listen i see purple characters and i HAVE to wave the ace wand on them ok 😭)

♡ margo is sometimes frustrated at miles for being so secretive and hiding his emotions behind walls, as goofy and dorky as he can be. she wishes he would just come out and be more honest about his feelings but understands that after his dad's passing, its harder for him to communicate his emotions

♡ she was the one who asked him out first, actually. he was beating around the bush way too much and so she finally put her foot down and initiated the relationship

♡ in public or with strangers they are: sunshine x sunshine protector. in private or with family n friends they are: "EXCUSE ME! miles asked for no pickles ☝️" esp since margo is the extrovert and he's the introvert.

♡ miles is actually p jealous and protective of margo and she finds that hilarious.

"i don't need any protecting, babe. i am a certified badass," margo says, flipping her box braids.

miles laughs, winding boxing wraps around his hands and standing in front of his giant punching bag. he looks over at his girlfriend sitting on a bean bag, with her adorable kitten t-shirt and fluffy sweater and grins even wider. "yeah… aight, sure thing."

margo scoffs, noticing his line of sight and looking very offended. "i may look cute and unassuming but that's exactly what i want our enemies to think! it gives me an advantage!"

miles hums, nodding. "mhm. advantage to do what, exactly?"

margo throws an empty soda can at him, which miles easily dodges as he laughs harder.

♡ it's funny, bc on the outside they seem like the stereotypical traditional straight relationship with a macho boy and sweetheart girl. but in reality they're both sarcastic snippy geeks who can both throw down in any verbal argument. and miles adores his gf, he's completely whipped for her. lets her paint his nails and everything, and if anyone tries to make fun of him for it, he doubles down and threatens to fight them over it

♡ they are THAT couple that wears lowkey matching outfits every once in a while. they actually enjoy shopping together which was a relief for both of them bc miles LIVES just to go sneaker shopping and margo absolutely loves trying new things on in the dressing room. theyre also both fashionistas in their own ways and love to accessorize. they swap accessories a lot

♡ whenever they hit up a bookstore, they are the first to head right on over to the manga section. right afterwards, they make a beeline over to the science fiction section and compare their purchases together after leaving

♡ miles is absolutely the "idc what my girl wears bc i know how to fight" boyfriend. margo doesn't go out in revealing outfits or anything, but looking a little TOO adorable in a dystopian city can sometimes paint a target on your back and so miles makes sure she's with him at all times if she wants to put her braids up into heart buns or wear a dress outside

♡ any hardware or mechanical problem that margo has, she takes it straight to miles. miles takes any software or coding issues he has to margo. if those software issues have anything to do with his prowler gear, however… he tries to isolate the issue and explain in vague terms what the problem is to avoid telling his gf he's actually the prowler

♡ no, he has not revealed to margo that he is the prowler yet. he's terrified to see her face when she inevitably finds out anyways, just KNOWING it would doom their relationship to a breakup if she ever figured it out. he does everything in his power to keep her from finding out his secret, even if it means disappointing her when he misses out on dates they set together

♡ they are both total champions at whatever multiplayer video game they get hooked onto. their personal faves are mmorpgs and battle royale games, but they are UNBELIEVABLY competitive when it comes to party games and even board games. they absolutely wipe the floor if they get to team up together

♡ tbqh they're the EXACT level of nerdy that they would consider playing video games in their separate homes as a date. "mmorpg and chill babe?" miles texts margo sometimes as a joking way to ask her on an online date. every minute they spend on voicechat as they kick digital ass together counts as quality time for sure

♡ even tho she's kind of embarrassed about it, margo has an absolutely huge plushie and figurine collection. she was worried miles would judge her SUPER HARD for her lowkey (highkey) special interest in anime figures when he 1st came over to her room, but immediately felt relieved when miles practically flew up to a rare figure she got secondhand from a japanese seller online and started ooohing and aaahing about it

♡ he actually tries to put aside whatever he earns prowling around the city for his mom first. then whatever's left over goes right to margo. he likes taking her out shopping and letting her pick out two or three things and seeing her beam like a sunrise before giving him a kiss on the cheek

♡ miles tries to hide his prowling behind the excuse of getting a job with his uncle at the family auto shop. every time he has a job to do or needs to leave suddenly, he blames it on "an emergency/new car job at the garage". margo eventually starts hating the word "garage"

♡ get either of these 2 to start talking abt their special interest, and it will be like Infodump City in there in 2 secs flat. they listen to each other's infodumping with hearts in their eyes, ESPECIALLY miles. margo goes "hey can i just rant to you about my new interest rq" and he goes "yes ma'am 🥰"

♡ everyone thinks margo is the one who cooks and cleans but hell no. miles is a neat freak whose room is the total opposite of margo's and he spends a lot of time alone at home when his mom is working a double shift and his uncle is out trying to secure another job for them. he knows how to cook like a damn chef by the time he's 16 (and also rio42 is not a toxic boymom. she will not raise any lazy needy son, her boy WILL know how to do laundry, cook meals and wash the damn dishes!)

♡ margo on the other hand tries to avoid the kitchen as often as possible and gets panic attacks when having to clean anywhere else but her own room bc of bad memories of having to sweep up broken glass after hearing her parents have violent fights that left the apartment in tatters. she never got to learn how to cook bc they never taught her, either

♡ margo is actually p traumatized from her parents' constant hateful fighting that she tries to squash down or hide behind a confident mask. but sometimes it pops up in ugly ways like when miles accidentally slams a cupboard door too loudly or a sarcastic comment sounds a little too bitter. her knee-jerk reaction is to always distance herself from miles a bit as a coping mechanism, which they had to work through

♡ miles' own grief and loss traumatized him beyond belief too ofc. after his dad's passing, his anxiety grows and he becomes more withdrawn, easily tired, and forgetful. it becomes worse after he becomes the prowler, bc dipping into the NYC underworld every so often gives p much anyone a healthy dose of paranoia. plus it takes some time away from his gf on top of all of that.

♡ if they're ever at parties or get-togethers at all, its always margo initiating conversations and meeting with people, making introductions and chatting happily. she always happens to have a quiet, chill miles-shaped shadow with her the whole time

♡ if margo was going to date miles, he told her one time, she was GOING to learn how to dance bachata and salsa. throw in a lil reggaeton in there as they get older and rio becomes a TINY bit more chill with seeing them on the dancefloor. they actually become much better at dancing together as they practice at family reunions and birthday parties

♡ miles carries around plush keychains and other trinkets that remind him of margo. he's a total sap when it comes to her, even if he tries to hide just how much he loves her sometimes. his phone's lockscreen is something dark or aesthetic like a city skyline or whatever but then when he unlocks it, margo is always his wallpaper

♡ aaron likes margo, he really does. he worries that miles doesn't have enough friends but he's happy that his nephew has a gf that is genuinely good for him. they all have a great time together whenever they do get downtime to chill together, like playing cards or helping aaron clean the garage

♡ that being said, aaron loves to pretend to sabotage their relationship as a running joke and watch miles get all riled up about it. it is hilarious to him, never gets old.

they're giving the garage connected to the autoshop its bimonthly deep clean just ahead of the yearly inspection.

it's a sunday, the only day of the week that the shop is closed for business and miles is on corner duty once they get down to the concrete floor. he's tasked with using the short hard brush attached to a long wooden handle to scrub the dust and grime out of the neglected corners. margo is scrubbing the middle with a much bigger sturdier widebroom, and aaron--being the tallest ofc-- has the duster on an extendable handle, swiping through the metal rafters and high shelves.

he notices miles struggling a bit with a mysterious stain in one corner, repeatedly attacking it before finally crouching down to shove the brush even harder against the floor with his hands.

aaron casually sneaks backwards and catches margo's attention with a smirk and a point of his chin. she swings her gaze around to her slightly frustrated boyfriend crouched down into a corner and starts giggling.

aaron grins as he suddenly says, "so yeah, thats why i got miles here on corner duty, usually. y'know being a little guy and all, he can do all that that someone as tall as me can't really do anymore yanno what i'm sayin? he's real good in those small spaces. that's why i'm up here, dustin' these rafters."

scandalized, miles springs back up with a "hey!!" and a withering glare shot their way. margo bursts out laughing.

♡ miles is the little spoon and margo is the big spoon, fight me abt it. his fave cuddling position is actually when his arms are wrapped around her and her cheek is laid against his head. otherwise, he loves his weighted blanket, and margo loves her warm mattress ♡ when they're home alone and on the couch watching movies, his back is usually to her side as he half-lays on her, using her arm as a pillow

♡ margo is def not a sports kind of girl but she tries for her bf. he and aaron are very much into basketball which she tries to keep up with just to join in on their convos. she always attends miles' boxing matches tho, ofc. she actually likes watching boxing matches in general! aaron gives her some old tapes of his own matches when he was younger and that's how margo gets into televised mma fights and ufc. she's always cheering for miles the loudest in the audience

♡ miles actually uses margo sometimes in his workouts. the proudest day of his life was when he was able to have margo laying on his back as he did pushups, and he made it to 10 before tiring himself out. she's the one holding his feet down as he does sit-ups and ab crunches. she tries to join in on his workouts too, and gets p good with the speedbag relatively quickly!

♡ miles-- being the paranoid guy he is-- happens to be the one to teach margo all of the effective self-defense moves. she thinks he's always exaggerating the danger out on the streets but she can't lie sometimes; whenever she's out past sunset with her keys in between her knuckles, she's just a TINY bit glad that miles taught her how to escape a rear chokehold

♡ margo is the soc media girl who is embarassingly online and posts about anything and everything of her life. new website coded? met a stray cat on her way over to miles'? bought a new manga? invented a cool gadget? they always show up in her followers soc media feed. she tries to get miles to pose for pics with her but he's mostly content to just be the guy behind the camera tbh. his own soc media account is pretty boring and bare since he rarely ever posts. he's got other things on his mind, errands to run

♡ the one and only time margo has ever seen miles cry was right after his dad died. the whole neighborhood got the news and she ran straight over to miles' apartment the minute she could. they climbed into his bed (the only time rio didn't reprimand them for it) and he just sobbed his heart out while they held each other for a real long time. she brought over homework and notes when he stayed home from school to recuperate

#spiderverse #mine #earth 42 prowler #spider byte #earth 42 #prowlerbyte #margo kess #miles g morales #i hope yall can see my vision #now ofc these two havent met at all in the movie yet #but can you imagine like a lil scene where spiderbyte somehow meets up with miles42 #and she goes “miles! i recoded the machine so you can go back home to your CORRECT dimension #if you ever wanna come back to spider society?“#and then shes like “…wait. what happened to your hair? i like it but… wait what're you wearing?”#and then miles42 is looking at her like O_O bc his Girlfriend But Not Girlfriend is just zipping around asking him all these questions #and… is she a HOLOGRAM?#miles1610 steps in and steers miles42 away going “uh thanks but yeah he's me from another dimension ahaha anyWAYS lets go over here bro”#and miles42 just goes “MY GIRLFRIEND IS SPIDERWOMAN IN ANOTHER DIMENSION?!?!”#god that would be amazing #i want them to have even just ONE second of an interaction in btsv mannnnn #they r So Cute what?? like #also yes they are both ace bc they are Purple. the girls that get it get it #im thinkin maybe miles42 is like... sex neutral ace and margo is demisexual. theyre both biromantic bc of course #anyways hope yall enjoyed these ^^✌️

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