#but its just really sad to want simple things in life + live for yourself and not be given that liberty | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thisgirlnamedblusy · 2 months

Note

Hey, first of all love your work, your writing is incredibly compelling. Secondly, could I possibly get some GP! Donna orgasm denial with soft domme reader, maybe y/n teases Donna throughout the day and then keeps her on edge until she begs for release. Thank you so much!!

Yesss!!!! Thank you for your request, and for your support!!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :))))

Begging

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, Minors DNI, fluff…

Word count: 6.231

Summary: Revenges are sweet....

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

“Good morning...” you hummed in Donna's ear, after turning around in bed several times.

The woman accompanying you growled in annoyance, making you smile with a mixture of evil and tenderness.

Yes, out of all the people in the village, you might be lucky enough to win the heart of one of its Lords, Donna Beneviento, but that didn't mean that your life would become a succession of boring routines, of shared silences accompanied by two cups of tea.

You were never a boring girl, or an innocent one. You always tried to have some control over the things that happened around you, even living with someone you kept hearing horrible things about.

Dangerous, crazy, sick, strange... All those adjectives that always accompanied the one who was now the love of your life were always in your head, but, certainly, you were never able to verify for yourself that they were really true.

Legends were common in the village, and Donna was no ordinary person. Even so, you did not expect that everything they said would dissolve so quickly, thus discovering a shy, withdrawn and lonely woman, who, despite not needing anyone, she did, a lot.

A beauty spoiled at an early age, a body that changed without asking permission… It seemed more than enough reasons for Donna to stop wanting to share her life with someone. You couldn't tell if she had good or bad luck finding you that day wandering around her grounds.

You, the complete opposite of her, happy, outgoing and daring, were the one who made the Lord lose control of her emotions, the one who were really able to discover what that black veil was hiding, as well as that sad and dark presence.

You would be lying if you said that at first it wasn't difficult to understand this poor unfortunate soul, but, little by little, you reached a point of stability with Donna that allowed you to go much deeper, to love her much more.

But like everything, in the end the phase of discovery, of passionate madness, gave way to a much calmer one, like a ship sailing with a light breeze, through calm waters.

Even though you knew nothing about long relationships, or what commitment really meant, you let yourself be carried away by the love you felt, settling definitively with Lady Beneviento, living with her, being with her just as you promised, forever.

The lady in black's shyness was never a problem for you, you always overcame it. But for several days now, the interest that the brunette had in you, or in your body, seemed to have vanished like a candle that goes out with a breath. Maybe the problem was your insatiable thirst for lust.

“Donna...” you murmured amused, biting her earlobe, deciding that day would be the last of that unexpected drought. Or maybe not... You still weren't sure how to handle it. Maybe you would play with her, maybe...

“(Y/N)... What time is it?” Donna asked, turning on the nightstand light.

“I don't know, I guess in the morning,” you replied, rolling your eyes at her passivity and her morning whines, ones that you found adorable.

She turned and kissed you quickly sketching a more awake smile, breathing deeply, admiring you, as if the simple fact that you were next to her awakening was like a gift, like a miracle to her.

But no, you couldn't get lost in that look. You couldn't let her tenderness, her shy smile, turn you away from the side of sin and put back your evil plans.

“Are you very interested in knowing the time?” you asked with an amused tone, running a hand across her chest, making her frown at your cheeky tone. “I’m not.”

“Well, maybe you're hungry. Shall I prepare breakfast for you?” she asked innocently, removing your hand from her chest, ready to abandon you once again.

You whined and shook your head, holding Donna next to you under the covers, pulling her by her waist and earning you another of her charming smiles and an additional blush.

“Mm no, I'm not hungry, but...” you murmured, lowering your hands to her legs, acting quickly to catch her off guard.

“(Y/N),” Donna protested, cringing when one of your hands ran over the small bulge between her legs. You smiled triumphantly, watching as she seemed to fall into your trap, or at least, her body fell into your trap.

“Don't you want to stay with me a little longer? I think you do...” you whispered in her ear, increasing the pace of your soft caresses between her legs, making the brunette gasp from the pleasure of your contact, and from the always exaggerated reaction of her body.

“Okay, okay,” she responded with a smile, releasing her eager erection so your caresses weren't just superficial. You nodded with that same mischievous smile, kissing her slowly as your hand slowly hugged her shaft, causing her to moan into your lips.

Well, you expected a similar reaction and you couldn't complain, but seeing the pleasure that your caresses gave Donna, an even more perverse idea crossed your mind. It was impossible for her to understand that your needs went beyond those of an ordinary human being. Sometimes you thought you were the very daughter of sin itself.

A week of abstinence for you was like an undeserved punishment. You knew that Donna wasn't doing it on purpose, that her duties as a Lord and her dolls were the only things that kept her entertained, apart from spending time with you, of course.

She probably simply forgot to please you as she should, or as you considered was due. You couldn't blame her, but still, you considered appropriate to vent a little revenge.

The kisses were wet, hungry. Moans filled the room and her hands roamed all over your body, going under your pajamas. Her gentle touch was more than enough to make you lose your mind, but this time you would have to be strong.

“I want you, (Y/N),” Donna whispered in your ear, slowly lowering your pants, placing herself on top of you to make you hers.

You couldn't hold back a moan when you felt her erection slowly caressing your wet entrance. Once again, your irrational desire for revenge overshadowed that intense pleasure and a wicked smile formed on your face when you placed your hands on her chest.

“On second thought... Yes, I think I'm a bit hungry,” you said in a casual tone, as if the atmosphere had not heated up, as if you had simply just gotten up, preventing Donna from moving closer, pushing her gently.

“Sorry?” she asked, her eye wide, surprised and clearly frustrated by your reaction. You smiled, kissing her quickly and crawling out of bed. “Hey, wait a minute.”

“What?” you asked as you pulled your pants back up, ignoring her surprised look and her pitiful stance. “Is anything wrong?”

“No, well, yes, what was that for?” the lady stammered, covering herself with her nightgown and also getting out of bed.

Of course, you knew exactly what she meant, but you decided to follow your plan and play the innocent little girl. You frowned, approaching slowly, trying not to be tempted by the bulge that the thin fabric of her clothing revealed.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” you said, looking away from her, caressing her cheek erratically, making Donna move nervously, confused. “Anyway, I'm going to take a shower.”

“Fine, I'm going with you,” she said hurriedly, just when you were about to leave the room indifferently, as if you hadn't done anything. Yes, yes, yes you had.

“No, well, no...” you said amused, shaking your head, leaving the doll maker even more petrified, breathing nervously. “Why don't you make me that delicious coffee you make? You know I love it.”

“Coffee,” Donna sighed, letting her shoulders slump, not understanding how strange your behavior was, with the gleam of her desire still decorating her eye. You nodded, tilting your head slightly, pretending to pout.

“Yes, coffee,” you said amused, whispering your words in a sensual but subtle way at the same time. “Did you perhaps want something else, my love?”

“I... No,” she sighed in defeat, discreetly looking down, surely wishing that her arousal would stop giving away her true intentions, those that you didn’t want to follow. “I'll go right away.”

“Great, see you,” you commented, giving her another quick kiss and leaving the room, holding back your laughter. She didn't answer, obviously.

At least that shower calmed your own desire. Playing with women was always your favorite pastime, putting them under your control, making them want you so much that they begged to have you. With Donna it was different, it was always different. But you were still the same naughty girl. A bit of domination wasn't going to hurt the lady in black.

After your shower, you walked slowly down the hallway, humming with a wide smile on your face. To your surprise, Donna wasn't in the kitchen, yet.

“Hello,” she said after a few moments, with a serious voice, already dressed in that black dress, with her hair tied up in that messy bun you loved to undo. You smiled at that dry greeting, noticing her serious look, her frustration at your actions.

“You took it easy,” you murmured, amused, leaving the countertop and approaching her slowly, making her turn around and her gaze fixate on yours with some resentment.

“If you hadn't made me feel like this, it wouldn't have taken me that long,” she said in a low voice, looking for the old coffee grinder on the kitchen shelves. You laughed, pointing at yourself and blinking repeatedly, with a mocking look.

“Oh, me?” you said, feigning confusion, putting on your best good girl face.

“Yes, you,” Donna replied, pouring the coffee beans into that old machine. “Don't pretend you don't know what you've done.”

“Oh, do I detect resentment in your sweet words?” you joked, grabbing her waist, making her shift uncomfortably again. “What have you been doing for so long?” you whispered in her ear, causing her body to tense again, but with a cold expression.

“Niente,” she whispered back, moving you away so she could grind the coffee like every morning, it was a pity your grip prevented her from doing it properly.

“Nothing, huh?” you continued joking, speaking very close to her ear, with your hands traveling along her waist, trying to make her nervous again. Well, Donna would be nervous, but it wasn't that kind of nervousness you wanted. “You haven't cheated, have you, Donna?”

“Cheat? What are you talking about?” the lady in black wanted to know, with a tone that could not hide her annoyance at your cruel act.

“You know, maybe you couldn't take it anymore and...” you said amused, making the gesture with her hand, moving away from her.

Donna stopped grinding the coffee and looked at you sharply, shaking her head.

“No, (Y/N), you know I haven't done that since I've known you,” she said offended, as if your naughty question was an attempt to test the trust you had in her, which wasn't true, not even the slightest bit.

“Wow, I would have loved to watch it,” you said, this time whispering in her ear, returning your hands to her waist, slowly going down her legs.

“What is wrong with you today?” Donna asked, less upset, but curious. You couldn't blame her. That behavior of yours was something she didn't know about. “You excite me and then leave me and…”

“It wasn't my intention,” you said with a false apology, without giving it importance. Donna grunted, but she returned her gaze to the coffee and continued grinding it.

“I had to wait for it to go down, and it was more difficult than other times,” the lady confessed, to which you raised your eyebrows, trying not to smile triumphantly.

“Wow... I gave you a hard time, huh?” you murmured in a childish voice, resting your head on her shoulder, leaving the subtlety of your caresses on one side, traveling along her dress, passing slowly between her legs.

“Well, yes,” she said, with a sigh, leaving the grinder on the side of the counter, trying to move, to free herself from your grip, something she couldn't do.

“I'm sorry, honey,” you said with a sincere tone, turning the woman to look at you. Her expression had relaxed but her breathing was quite the opposite, probably due to your hands caressing her body, exciting her again. “Come here, let me make it up to you.”

“But, but, the coffee,” Donna protested, when your hand caressed her shaft, hardened again by your skillful hands, by that insatiable thirst of your body.

“Are you worried about the coffee?” you asked with that same good girl tone, stopping caressing the fabric of her dress, reaching under it and feeling her erection through her underwear.

“No, not at all,” Donna responded abruptly, shaking her head, closing her eye to enjoy your caresses more, the small kisses that you began to place on her neck.

You smiled against her skin as your hand freed her trembling shaft beneath the black fabric of the dress, fabric that covered her own embarrassment, one that didn't match her body's reactions at all.

“Shh, darling, calm down,” you whispered, moving your hand up and down, caressing her slowly, squeezing her most sensitive spots, causing those shy moans again.

“Faster, please,” she asked you, unable to look at you, unable to show the pleasure that your caresses gave her. Her shyness was always one of the things that turned you on the most.

“Okay...” you whispered nodding pleased with that request, kissing her slowly, letting her hands tangle through your hair while your movements caused small spasms in her hips.

“So... Close...” the lady in black murmured, shifting against the counter, trying to concentrate on something different than your hand stimulating her erection.

It was evident to you the truth that resided in her words, the incipient moisture you felt in your hand. A small part of you wanted to grant her wish, to stain her dress, to make her blush for it. An amazing sight for your brain, one you would remember. But your other side, a little more perverse, wanted to continue with that torture, with that silent revenge.

You didn't have to think which of the two sides would win. You already knew it, perfectly. Your hand stopped little by little, stopping stimulating Donna, who protested with a moan, opening her eye to check what was happening.

“Donna, the coffee...” you said, suddenly releasing her, moving away as if you were scared, something she did too, looking directly at the counter and then at you, repeating the process several times.

“What? What’s wrong with it?” she asked, looking at the grinder with curiosity, breathing heavily, rearranging her clothes.

“It's going to get damaged if you leave it there for too long, right?” You said, crossing your arms, showing with your posture that your hand would not play again, something that Donna soon discovered.

“But, but, (Y/N)…” she said protesting your actions, shaking her head, with a grimace of absolute frustration.

“You better prepare it before it loses its properties,” you commented with complete indifference, making her gaze harden more and more.

“My mind, (Y/N), I'm going to lose my mind,” Donna said, surprised and obviously upset by your attitude, going back to work in that coffee.

“Don't exaggerate...” you murmured, hanging on to her neck, despite her movements of rejection and the continuous avoidance of your gaze. “I'm going to set the table. Oh, one more thing,” you commented, before disappearing through the door again.

Donna looked at you as she poured the coffee into the pot, a dark shadow in her eye, but her breathing calmer, almost as if she had given up.

“Don't cheat, okay?” you murmured jokingly, peeking around the door frame.

“Vaffanculo!” she screeched, bursting into comical rage, playfully throwing a dish towel at you, missing as you ran out of the room, holding back your laughter.

You quickly went upstairs. You were clearly enjoying it too much.

“Your coffee,” Donna said, pouring you a cup in a slightly unpleasant way, with that dark shine in her eye. You smiled tenderly at her, thanking her without speaking, just moving your mouth.

The lady in black dropped into the chair in front of you, with a tired sigh, pouring herself some of that bitter liquid.

When you brought your cup to your mouth, you immediately noticed a bitterer taste than usual, as if it had been burned. You made a strange face, leaving the cup on the table, seeing that Donna made exactly the same gesture as you.

“Wow... It's intense,” you said amused, pretending to shiver.

“It's not intense (Y/N), it's burned, thanks to you,” she told you, maintaining a slightly proud posture, something that the trembling of her hands overshadowed.

“Me? What have I done?” you asked, feigning surprise, feigning again that innocence you didn't have. “I was up here setting the table.”

“Yeah, sure,” she said, nodding and leaning back with her arms crossed. “Tell me, what have I done for you to make me suffer like this?”

“You haven't done anything, my love,” you said passively, pouring oil on your toast. “Do you want one?” You asked, offering the piece of bread to the lady, who grunted in annoyance, standing up from her chair.

“I'm going to the workshop,” she said dryly, drinking that burnt coffee in one gulp and cowardly fleeing from your presence, which made you sigh tenderly, wishing she didn't see your sinister smile.

“Don't you want to have breakfast?” you asked, pouting again.

“No! I don't want to,” she said, already entering the elevator hallway. You shook your head, biting your lip.

“Poor Donna, am I being cruel to you?” you said to yourself, taking a bite of your toast, amused by your actions and by her nervous and erratic behavior.

But your conscience prevented you from continuing to attack her, at least for a few hours.

Bored, you looked for something to entertain yourself before assaulting her again. The idea of revenge was already blurred. Saying you acted like that just for revenge was just a simple excuse. You always enjoyed doing that kind of things with your short relationships.

The mere idea of being dominant, of feeling able to decide whether or not to comply with the wishes of a person as important as Donna, sounded so exciting in your head that you yourself had to make an effort not to fall into your own trap.

“Mm, time to eat...” you murmured when your stomach coincided with the time the clock announced.

The morning had passed too slowly. Neither Donna nor even the Angie doll had made an appearance. Was it your fault? Surely, and that made you smile.

But the hands of the clock showed something strange, a strange lack of punctuality in the brunette. It was later than usual, and no delicious aroma was rising up the elevator shaft.

Taking that small delay as an excuse to continue your little game, you went down the elevator, humming as usual, like you always did, every time you were going to do something bad.

“Anyone there?” you asked, knocking softly on the doors of the workshop.

“No,” a hoarse and gruff voice responded from the other side, returning an evil smile to your face.

“Donna, it's half past one,” you said, ignoring her unsubtle way of saying she didn't want to see you and entering the workshop, walking towards her and hugging her from behind, wrapping your hands around her chest.

“Thank you for the information,” she said, focused on knitting clothes for a small clown doll.

“Oh, come on, Donna, don't act like that with me... I just came because it's strange that you weren't cooking at this time of the afternoon,” you said, kissing her cheek and looking at her from her shoulder, a look that she returned, a bit listless.

“I'm taking refuge,” she said with a half-smile, stopping sewing and moving so your grip would stay in that place, and not dare to go down.

“Refuge?” you asked, frowning amusedly.

“Yes, from you,” she stated, corroborating your suspicions, something that made you let her go and lean against the table, with your arms crossed in a cocky and arrogant posture.

“I must be terrible,” you murmured, looking at your nails, ignoring the heavy feeling that her gaze conveyed.

“Sometimes you are,” Donna commented, returning to the fabric, sewing to distract her mind from your pernicious game.

“Okay, okay... I admit I went a little overboard,” you said, separating yourself from the table and forcing the lady to look at you.

“Oh, you admit it, good,” she said, with a satisfied smile, relaxing the expression of resentment towards you a bit.

“How can I make it up to you, my love?” you asked, with a sensual voice, bending down to be at the level of her lips but only touching them, without kissing them, making Donna moan again.

“Easy, finish what you've started,” she whispered in your ear, with a voice perhaps too dominant, something that made your body tremble with desire. Well, maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to end that game at that moment.

You raised an eyebrow, turning away to look at the lady, who was smiling almost the same way as you, patting her lap, motioning for you to sit down.

You rolled your eyes but nodded, kissing your lover deeply as you fulfilled her wishes.

It didn't take long for you to notice her erection again in your wetness, so close, so trembling... You moved, thus increasing the contact, the friction of your hips and her shy moans.

“You're in a hurry,” you commented when her fingers moved your underwear to the side, entering you quickly but gently, never wanting to hurt you. Donna nodded, sighing in relief as she felt your body hugging hers, holding your hips and moving them as she pleased.

You moaned too, looking for a comfortable position in that old chair. Honestly, you could have given in to your own desire, you could have continued enjoying that sensation so much, the way her shaft was pushing its way through your walls.

But your sinister side, that side that whispered evil things in your ear, had other plans.

Her moans became distorted into soft murmurs that you didn't understand. You shouldn't listen to them, or your body would surrender to its own pleasure. With great effort, just when her movements began to get out of control, you rose from the chair with a groan.

“What are you doing?” Donna asked. “(Y/N), I was about to…”

“I'm a bit hungry,” you said, putting on your dress and moving away from the trembling lady, who stood speechless, putting on her clothes as well.

“Hungry? What the...” she said, interrupted by a hand on her mouth and a mocking sound from your lips.

“Shhh, why don't you go prepare something to eat?” you asked, with an innocent voice, avoiding your lover's hatred and frustration, which was more than evident, in different aspects.

“No, come back, come back here,” she told you, pointing again at her lap, shaking her head, making you to laugh worse.

“I'm weak, Donna...” you said, caressing your stomach in a comical way, pretending to be that hungry.

“Weak, you're weak...” she sighed in disbelief, confused and almost desperate because of your painful attitude. “What do you want?”

“Nothing, I'm just telling you that without something in my stomach... Well, my capabilities are greatly reduced,” you said ironically, leaving Donna even more surprised and upset.

“No, that's not true... Okay, finish with me and then I'll make you something delicious, is that okay with you?” she proposed, reaching the agonizing negotiation phase, one that amused you even more.

“Oh, but how selfish of you,” you blurted out, feigning offense.

“Selfish? You've been torturing me all the morning. Do you know how...? How it hurts?” she asked you, lowering the tone of her voice, pressing her hands between her legs.

“Don't be dramatic, Donna...” you sighed, with a sympathetic smile, one that made the lady groan, crossing her arms in a slightly childish manner.

“I'm sorry, but no,” she said with a serious tone, trying to overcome your arrogance, something that was complicated. “I'm not going to cook.”

“No?” You asked, amused by her attitude.

“If you want me to cook, you know what you have to do,” the lady grumbled, looking at you comically.

“Well, whatever you want...” you sighed, with your dark side deciding for you again, walking indifferently towards the exit, but first, leaning towards her ear. “I'm not that hungry, I can hold on… The question is… Can you hold on?”

With that cheeky sneer, you left the workshop. Donna didn't respond, but you didn't expect her to do either. Maybe you were going too far, maybe you should leave her alone, just for a while.

Evening arrived. There was no sign of Donna, but you didn't want to seem desperate, or give up. If there had to be an undisputed champion of that macabre game, it had to be you.

With nothing better to do, you started reading, sighing worried. Your conscience took advantage of that moment of weakness to attack you, to make the idea of releasing your lover seem like the right one. In truth it was, but your dark and dominant side always prevailed over your compassion.

After a few moments of distraction thanks to that reading, the sound of the elevator startled you a little. It seemed that Donna had dedicated herself to getting out of the isolation, the protection and security of her workshop.

“Hello, darling,” you said kindly. Donna looked at you, walked towards you, but she didn't answer, she just sat next to you. She seemed nervous, good.

“Are you reading?” she asked with a hoarse, soft voice, as if her shyness had returned to your first days on the estate. You laughed, showing her the book with an amused smile.

“Well, I am, it seems quite obvious, right?” you joked, settling on her shoulder, sighing tenderly. You may have been dominant, but her perfume, the warmth of her body against yours in something as innocent as reading, was something that surpassed even your lust.

“Can you let me read with you?” she asked, moving your head to rest on her chest while her fingers played with your hair. You nodded slowly, surprised by that sudden change in attitude, by that lack of desperation in her voice.

Unfortunately for poor Donna, she wasn't the most subtle person in the world. Her expressions, her ways of acting were completely visible. She was up to something, and you were dying to know what it was.

Her lips made contact with your neck unexpectedly, kissing it slowly. You looked at her out of the corner of your eye, but you didn't do anything, you didn't say anything, you just settled in, intentionally giving her access to more corners of your skin.

Automatically she took the bait of your offer, running her hand over your chest, getting under your dress while her lips distracted yours passing over your skin so the pleasure of her kisses would divert your attention from the hands that were already climbing up your legs.

You laughed, pleased by her actions, and didn't make a move. You wanted to know what exactly she intended, that was certainly not her normal way of acting.

The moment her fingers passed through your underwear, the moment they made contact with the moisture that had resided between your legs since that morning, you understood what her intentions were. Poor Donna, sometimes she forgot that you were an experienced girl.

“Do you like it?” she asked seductively in your ear, making circles on your clit covered by that annoying fabric. You nodded and groaned, pretending to be distracted by the book, a book you stopped reading as soon as Donna showed up.

That approval of yours gave her enough courage to put her fingers under the fabric, sinking into the humidity of your folds, caressing your body with that delicacy that only she was capable of. You smiled, stealing a small kiss from her as your hips matched her slow movements, while the tips of her fingers surrounded your entrance like a predator cornering her prey. Poor thing, she still didn't know that the prey was her.

“Mm…” you moaned, giving her the silent permission you knew she always needed. You bit back another moan as her fingers entered you slowly, letting you enjoy every inch of that overwhelming sensation.

She didn't talk and neither did you. You simply limited yourself to enjoying her delicate hands on your body, that meticulous way with which she handled everything she touched, including you.

The movements were slow, soft, limited by your underwear still covering that lustful act that came out of nowhere, or rather, out of her mind. You bit your lip, you moaned, you let your hips increase the friction of her perfect joints, of her perfect, careful touch inside of you.

You may have been stronger than her, you may have seen her intentions, but those were not enough reasons not to let yourself be carried away by her actions. Donna could have sworn that she was inexperienced before meeting you, but due to things like that, you had a hard time believing it.

You dropped the book you weren't reading on the couch, closing your eyes, feeling your will to continue playing that sinister game gradually weakening.

“You're close, I can feel it...” Donna whispered in your ear, making your body respond by nodding involuntarily, biting your lip for the betrayal that pleasure made you endure.

“Yes...” you responded, giving yourself away even more.

“Perfect,” she said, with a different tone, removing her hand from your body and leaning her back with a satisfied smile. Your body, overwhelmed by pleasure and frustrated by the loss of contact, forced you to protest with a pathetic moan.

“Donna...” you sighed, letting your shoulders fall, returning to the reality the pleasure was hiding from you. Her expression was disinterested and her gaze avoided yours.

“Uncomfortable?” she asked with a mockery embedded in her words, with the severity of her face intact.

“You're vengeful, huh?” you said amused, bringing your legs together, imitating in any way the sensation that made you lose your mind.

“Are you?” she asked back, now, looking at you questioningly.

“What do you mean?” you asked curious and confused, frustrated, but without letting her realize it.

“Nothing,” she said simply, crossing her arms. “Enjoy that incredible feeling you've made me feel all day, I'm going to make something to eat.”

Just as Donna stood up, you laughed, catching her attention.

“Do you think it’s funny?” she asked, clearly upset, with her hands resting on her hips.

“No, well, yes...” you said, caressing your own legs, making her gaze drift for a moment towards your hand, something that you, clearly, didn’t overlook. “Your counterattack won't help you at all, darling... I can relieve myself.”

“Oh, isn't that cheating?” Donna questioned, with a mocking but confident tone. After all, those were your own rules.

“Mm, it's true...” you said with a smile, which brought back her evilness. “What a dilemma, Donna, what do we do now?”

“I don't know what are you going to do, I'm going to make something to eat,” she responded.

“Like that?” you said, pointing to the prominent bulge between her legs, one that she covered as best she could. “It’s not recommended to do something so dangerous, well… Without half the blood in your head.”

“If I'm like this it's because of you,” she said, defending herself, unable to hide her erection in the black fabric of her dress. “It will pass soon.”

“Really? Don't you prefer us to play?” you asked in a dark voice, reaching into your dress and pulling out your underwear, throwing it on the wooden floor without losing eye contact.

“I don't want to play with you. I don't want you to fool me again. I had a bad time, you know?”

“Come on, come on, I promise you this time I'll be good,” you said with a sincere tone, reaching out your hand to grab her wrist, gently pulling the lady, who shook her head.

“I don't believe you,” she said, looking away from you, but letting her body be dragged to the sofa.

“Come on, ragazza, trust me...” you whispered, sitting her and leaning back, slightly separating your legs.

“Don't use those words against me,” she said, looking between your legs, playing with her dress to release that pressure between them. You laughed, biting your lip and gesturing with your finger.

“Shut up and kiss me,” you ordered her, pulling her clothes so she leaned over you, kissing her lips in a wild way, letting the lust be completely free now, not wanting to prolong that game that you were already the undisputed winner.”

“This time... You're not going to escape,” she whispered, with a marked, angry accent, while her shaft entered your entrance effortlessly, helped by that small moment of free pleasure with which Donna compensated you without deserving it.

“I don't mean to,” you responded, closing your eyes as you felt your walls stretch so she could make her way through. Deep down you didn't want it to be so easy, but the feeling was so overwhelming... “But...”

“But,” she repeated, ceasing the fierce movement of her hips, searching your sweaty face for the cause of that sudden word.

“If you want to release, my love... You'll have to say the magic words...” you murmured, trying to keep your hips from losing that rhythm, so, even if Donna didn't move, you would continue getting that delicious pleasure.

“What?” she asked, obviously confused, letting her body do the same as yours trying not to lose that succulent rhythm of lust.

“Say them, and I promise I will set you free, you know I can do it…” you whispered, running your hands along her covered back, clawing at her skin through the black fabric.

“You're unbearable, I have no idea what you're talking about,” she said, moving fiercely again, as if your threats or proposals had not reached her ears. Once again, you couldn't blame her. You were the only one to blame. “But it doesn't matter to me anymore, you know? I'm not going to let... You leave me like this again.”

“Beg me, Donna,” you said, sitting up, stopping her increasingly erratic movements. Her erection betrayed her weakness, trembling inside of you and you, oh yes, you were going to take advantage of it. “Do you want to do it? Do you want to release?”

“Yes, please...” she acknowledged with an agonized moan, trying to resume the movements that were taking her to the edge again.

“Well then, beg,” you ordered in a firm voice, making her gaze rise to yours, causing her grimace of discomfort to change into one of astonishment, of doubt, of not knowing if she would obey a mere mortal like you.

But poor Donna was weak and you knew it. She didn't take long to close her eye and look away, freeing herself from the grip of your hands.

“Please, (Y/N), amore mio... I’m begging you... Let me, let me release inside of you, let me fill you with all my love, let me show you how much I love you...” she said with a whisper adorned by frustrated gasps that her body emitted.

You smiled. It was more than you asked for, of course.

“Wow... I have no words,” you joked, moving slowly, so she wouldn't realize that you had given in to her desire. “Okay honey, you can do it.”

Donna smiled in relief, feeling your hips claim hers, resuming her movements again, intensifying her thrusts, grabbing your legs, holding them above you, holding on so you wouldn't have the audacity to escape and go back on your word.

Your walls hugged her shaft while you yourself took the opportunity to release yourself without being discovered, just at the moment when her hips stopped, very close to yours, at the precise moment in which her release filled your warm interior, accompanied by a moan of relief from the lady, who finally got what she longed for.

“Gods...” Donna sighed, letting herself fall into your chest, releasing your legs but not wanting that sensation of her release inside of you to disappear, staying inside, trying to dominate the dominant one in that very sensual way. “Don’t, don't do this to me again...”

“Okay, the same to you,” you said in your defense, recovering your breath. The lady in black raised her head, looking at you with a frown.

“What have I done to you?” she asked offended, pointing comically at herself.

“What haven’t you done? I think that would be the right question,” you corrected. “Donna, this is the last time you have me without sex for a whole week, is that clear?”

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

74 notes · View notes

alimaybankkk · 1 year

Note

Could I request a JJ HC of how he cheers up reader when they are sad?

𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥

a/n: so i was gonna make this into a blurb but i got so carried away. however i really like it!!

summary: in request

warnings: none but angst and major fluff

pairing: jj maybank x sad!reader

you’d dissociated yourself from the group, muttering something about being tired and waking up early. all your friends looked around, confused, knowing you had a completely free day tomorrow.

essentially, the pogues had appointed jj as the person to confront you; it was hardly a question. you two were always attached at the hip, and when jj had seen you come home and go straight to bed without hanging out and kissing him, he knew something was up.

“what’s up with her?” pope had said, looking annoyed.

they had been huddled around a table with stacks of cards, intending on playing many different games, (as simple as war, for they were simple-minded folk and didn’t bother to learn anything too complicated, but as soon as, in john b’s words, you “ruined the party,” the whole mood of the game dropped.

“she’ll be…” john b had wanted to say you’d be fine, but then he saw jj’s eyes looking off in the direction you’d walked off in. if jj seemed worried, it meant something was wrong. “someone’s gotta talk to her.”

immediately, with no question, everyone looked at jj as he stood, understanding his purpose before being asked. cleo mumbled something about “romeo saving his juliet,” but everyone was too occupied to laugh, even though this was the type of thing they’d find funny.

eventually, chatter resumed when jj made his way through the doorway of your shared bedroom. his heart clenched sadly when he saw you facing the wall, head downturned and fidgeting with your rings.

he slowly made way to sit next to you on the bed, its weight dipping beneath the two of you. you didn’t turn your head, just brought your lips into a tight line.

jj accepted that was an acknowledgment of his presence. he knew how you got whenever you were upset, and he never wanted to push you. he draped an arm around your waist, expecting you to sink into the touch like you usually did, but you just stiffened. his lips fell apart. “shit—baby, did i do something?”

if you weren’t this upset, you would have giggled. it was pathetic. you just shook your head, glossy eyes burning into the floor. they never looked into jj’s eyes, and he was starting to get self conscious.

“how was your day?” jj asked, and as soon as he did, he regretted it.

you turned to face him, feeling as though he was making fun of you. you sighed angrily and wiggled out of his arms, attempting to slide away from him when he grabbed your wrist. “it was a bad day? wasn’t it?”

you pursed your lips and nodded, eyebrows raising as you sighed. your eyelashes seemed to curl downward as your stressed eye position fell.

jj brought you into his arms, lifting you back into the bed. he hugged you tightly for a few minutes, feeling your body shake against him as silent sobs escaped your mouth.

jj was sure he felt even more sadness in the moment than you did, but he’d never admit that. to be honest, he was thankful for it. he didn’t want you to feel pain; you didn’t deserve it.

just like he felt he didn’t deserve you.

in your eyes, jj was the most perfect boy to ever exist. the caring moments like the ongoing one right now added to his sympathetic and sweet personality, enriching your love for him by the second.

but in jj’s eyes, he was a coward. he was scared of the life he’s lived ever since he was little that he threw away his childhood as soon as he got the chance and lived as a bad boy who was a criminal and was full of flaws. in his eyes, you were too good for him. he truly believed constantly that being with him hurt you and he was ashamed for you that someone as perfect as you could love someone like him.

but those things were not negative things to you. sometimes they made you love him harder. to you, jj was a broken boy that craved love and affection he’d never gotten. you knew he felt as if his whole life and soul was repaired just by a single kiss of your lips.

you always thought so poorly of luke maybank for simply looking at jj as if he were all such terrible things. jj was not the type of boy to try his best to see good in himself. as soon as anyone said something slightly offensive, jj believed it and hurt on the inside but brushed it off and dished something back.

jj was so easily covered up by a fake ego that no one noticed the way he truly felt about himself but you.

he felt as if he wasn’t worthy of love or even respect until he met you. you’d welcomed him so quickly into your life, your saccharine laugh and oh so charming smile immediately brightening up his life. he saw you as an angel sent from heaven.

months and months and months built a two year relationship that was so accepting, loving, and respecting between the two of you. almost all of your friends were jealous of the way you made each other feel—even sarah and john b. but they would never admit something like this.

they liked to tease you two for your neediness and your clinginess. as much as you craved jj’s touch constantly, you knew it was jj who initiated most of the touching—not that you were complaining. he was the one who always cheered you up on your hardest days—like today.

you grasped longingly for the material of his shirt, wrinkles forming underneath your fingertips. finally, he let himself cry, too. you pulled away from the hug to look into his eyes. “are you crying? why are you—don’t cry, jj, it’s okay…”

he pulled you back into the hug, kissing the side of your head like it was the last time he ever would.

“baby, give me your pain,” he said, finally pulling away and giving you a kiss. a kiss so full of need and love. a kiss so sweet and beautiful that you were almost knocked off your feet. you sighed into it, arms entangling into his hair. “gimme it all, please.”

your heart clenched at the thoughtful words that fell so effortlessly from his mouth. the feeling was so romantic and poetic at the same time you almost melted, knowing there was no one else in this world that could replace him.

“give it all to me,” he continued, hands dancing to cadres your face. “you don’t deserve this, angel.”

it was a new nickname, but you were glad to find you liked it a lot.

“neither do you, j,” you fought, a pointer finger reaching to tuck hair behind his ear. he sighed, eyes squeezing shut.

he kept them closed as he remained silent for a few moments, mouth slightly agape as soft breaths could be heard coming from it.

your hands latched onto his and you reached them up to your lips, kissing each callused knuckle.

when jj finally opened his eyes, he wrapped his arms around your waist and picked you up, carrying you to the bathroom and placing you on the counter.

“i just want to go to bed, jj,” you said with tears still rolling down your cheeks.

he sighed, coming up from the drawers he had been rummaging through and kissing the tear away. when another one rolled down at the kind gesture, he quickly swiped it away with his hand and kissed your forehead lovingly, lips lingering for a little longer.

“i know, pretty girl,” he finally responded, tilting your chin up to look at him. “but i also know you’ll be miserable if you wake up tomorrow with all this smudged good-for-nothing makeup on your face.”

your lips formed into a tight lipped smile, blinking away tears as you nodded. “i know.”

he smiled before continuing his search in the drawers when he finally pulled out a makeup rag.

he wiped away the smudged makeup so softly, whispering things to you soothingly, (you’re so perfect, you’re going to be okay, i love you, etc.)

when he was finally done with the makeup, he brought his lips to yours before pulling back and muttering, “you are so damn beautiful.”

you tried not to break down again—the opposite of what he said had been the reason why you were upset in the first place. a friend of yours had made fun of the way you looked without makeup. it hurt you so bad to the point where you stormed out of the house before waiting in the car and touching up your makeup.

you thinned your lips and looked down, eyelashes fanning out toward jj. he watched you for a few moments.

he admired the way a single vein in your cheek twitched when you frowned, exactly where your dimple would usually rest. he loved to notice such small things about you, he thought as he watched the way your nose turned up.

jj knew to take that as a sign you were getting impatient. after all, he’d sat there staring at you for so long.

he smiled before grabbing a hairbrush that was beside where you were seated on the counter and helped you off of it. “turn around, sweet girl.”

you obliged, watching his movements in the mirror you now faced as he worked the brush through your hair.

your heart clenched so tight as you watched the way his eyes lit up with love and he tried to bite back a smile. you smiled. the boy before you was exactly the one.

“so perfect,” he whispered, stepping back to look at you in the mirror. you finally turned around again to look at him in the eyes.

he was so whipped, he thought, but he didn’t care as you intertwined your fingers into his hair, pulling him into a passionate and needy kiss.

he sighed into it, absent minded tensed shoulders relaxing immediately as he wrapped his arms so tightly around you. you loved the way he held you: as if there was someone so terrible to protect you from.

and maybe there was. the monster of love coming to take you away or something. it was jj’s biggest fear—you leaving him. it’s why he tried his best to savor every moment with you, his mind carrying him into his own little world where you’d be with him forever with just the simple squeeze of his eyes. it was something he did a lot, mostly when you were vulnerable. he never wanted to let go of this feeling, and if he just took time to appreciate it, maybe he—

“j?” you whispered, bringing him out of his trance. you had a warm hand pressed to his chest and he looked down at you, eyes softening.

“yes, angel?”

your heart beat faster at the nickname, but you just leaned into him and continued, “want to go to bed.”

“okay.” he said, grabbing your soft hand and leading you back to the shared bedroom. he gently placed you on the bed, kissing you for what felt like the millionth time tonight and turning to his dresser. “gonna get you something to wear.”

he looked through your drawers and pulled out a pair of nike pros, but when he was in search of a shirt, he found nothing. he just sighed, knowing it was intentional.

your favorite thing to do was hide your load of shirts from jj so that he would have no choice but to dress you in one of his. not that you even had to do this to wear one of his shirts.

he placed the pair of shorts on the bed next to you as he passed by on his way to the other side of his room, looking through his own drawer. you dressed out of your uncomfortable pair of jeans and into the shorts, relief on your legs.

you hummed excitedly when jj have you his t-shirt—his favorite of yours to wear: sex wax. it fit so big on you that it provided almost a shield of protection of softness. you also took mind that it was the shirt that smelt the most like him. he wore it quite often and his scent rubbed off on it.

“do you want me to leave, pretty girl?” he asked as he changed his own shirt.

you shook your head eagerly, dreading the thought. “please don’t.”

he nodded, smiling. you pulled your shirt over your head, followed by unclipping your bra and jj’s eyes widened. he’d seen you like this so many times, but your body never failed to amaze him. you smiled at his reaction as he spluttered, “so fuckin’ beautiful.”

you giggled and slid his shirt over your head, becoming light headed by the overwhelmingly pleasant smell of jj on it. you brought the neckline to your nose, sniffing it with closed eyes and relaxing immediately.

“if you love the way i smell, angel, i’m right here,” he laughed, sliding into bed next to you.

you shrugged and turned to face him, eyes full of love. he smiled as he looked deeply into your eyes, so lost in the beauty he saw before him. “thank you,” you said.

jj nodded so casually as if he hadn’t just made your night. “like i said, baby. give me all your pain.”

your left hand reached up to play with his blonde hair while your right held his face in it as you kissed all over it.

his nose, his chin, his cheeks, his eyebrows, his forehead, all over his jaw… you drowned him as much as you could in the love he gave you tonight. it wasn’t until you pulled away that you saw the familiar sight in front of you, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted and cheeks red.

you had no clue what it meant, but you were always willing to find out.

#jj x reader #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank #jj mayback imagine #jj obx #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x routledge!reader #obx imagine #obx fic #outerbanks #obx #outerbanks fic #outer banks

817 notes · View notes

ackerifle · 9 months

Note

Yandere Levi finding out reader is pregnant by another man

a word with you!

yan. no regrets levi ackerman x fem prostitute. reader

+ CW. — harassment, coercion, delusional behavior, kidnapping, confessions of murder, threats of domestic violence/abuse, implied: slight past age-gap relationship, baby-trapping; darling’s pseudonym is galatea; not proof-read.

it was simply too good to be true, you had known it then, and you know it now. but wishful thinking and desperation will do terrible things to good people, no soul would willingly continue living in the underground should they find themselves with any better alternative. at a constant risk of disease and decay, mother nature’s evident distaste for her children dwelling beneath the surface, careless to the living that remained untouched by the sun. abandoned by its creators in favor of more ‘pressing matters,’ the people left relinquished in a forgotten city of ruins had fallen on hard times, people like yourself.

and thus, you had found yourself in quite the predicament. although nothing in your life had ever come particularly easy, and this once, just this once, you could manage all on your own. there was no shame in working in a brothel, not when the people around you were often worse off than yourself, and pride was a small price to pay for simply surviving. it was only once you had first bared witness to the frequent deaths of the other prostitutes had you ever come to the realization that the madam must have really favored you a lot— to clean you, to clothe you, to feed you, to care for you; to keep you. but the state of affairs in the underground have since changed from the time of your youth, you’ve changed. you wanted out, and you were not immune to making grave sacrifices for what you wanted.

you’ve encountered and met many clients in your time, men and women alike, and it is rare for new faces to draw your attention. but as of late, there has been one. a soldier from the surface, a military police member who seemed far too young to be venturing below the safety and security of the royal capital by himself, and far too naïve to be falling absolutely head over heels for some prostitute who only offers an hour and faux moans in return. it almost tugs at your heartstrings, almost. he isn’t as innocent as he looks, and you are reminded why terrible things happen to good people. he had held citizenship over your head since the moment he met you, through legal marriage, and one simple request: that you give him a child. after all, who was a man of his merit to invest such a scrupulous amount of time into a common whore without the reassurance she won’t leave him right away?

so you do, allowing him to touch and hold you in a way your other clients could only dream of. to whisper sweet nothings in your ear about your future together, because admittedly, you too are thinking the same thing. thinking about your future, but you find that there is nothing romantic about it. and perhaps the worst of it all, he hasn’t come back for you.

laying down on your tarnished bed of tattered sheets and thin blankets, you stare aimlessly at the darkened ceiling. without thought and without interest, it has been weeks, maybe months, and you think you’ve truly fallen ill, “dammit, i knew i shouldn't've let that prestigious prick back in here.” forever grateful and beholden to the brothel keeper, she continues to tend to your needs, even now.

“look at you. so sad, little girl.” the madam coos apathetically, but her actions say otherwise. a gentle hand checks your temperature, brushing aside any loose strands of hair with the swipe of her thumb. her frown only deepens when she just barely pushes your head back, met with complete compliance as your head tilts further into the pillow from even the slightest of movements. somehow, you’re still so tired and still so restless, “i’m sorry.”

she’s upset with you. she’s been upset with you ever since you’d been involved with that shady scumbag, but truthfully the madam is more upset with herself. and she wants to ask why you of all people are apologizing, but she doesn’t, “i’m sorry too.” there is more she yearns to say, her mouth is still open, as if to somehow keep you responsive in this one-sided conversation, but nothing comes out. and it’s too late when there are three loud and concise knocks banging on the door downstairs.

the madam is quick to pry a worried hand from your unresponsive body, storming towards the exit of the oppressive room, but not without taking a curious glance in your direction. her remorse does not last long, as she shuts the door with a shove, but is intentional in not forcing it too hard. and you are left alone. swallowing dryly, your eyes dart around the room, and you wonder just how intense that person must have been hounding at the door for both you and the madam to hear it from a story above. but that was no matter, it was already noisy in the brothel, the walls were thin because peace and quiet was no luxury anyone living there could afford; and who knows how many women you shared the small space with. and surprisingly, it benefitted you greatly to be sick, as the madam refused to work you; and you’d known girls who worked during pregnancy, it never did end well for them.

deafening commotion could be heard ringing throughout the brothel, to the point it had felt as if the walls were shaking and the building was caving in. you chalked it up to hysterical figments of your imagination, that the floorboards beneath your bed weren’t vibrating, and that the sound of a panicked woman and determined man arguing with one another weren’t getting closer, “sir! galatea isn’t well, she’s not seeing anyone right now!”

“i don’t give a shit, lady. i know name is still here, she hasn’t left this fucking whorehouse in a month.” it pains you that you recognize this voice, and it isn’t the one you want to hear.

brazenly, the door is reopened with much more ferocity and wrath than it had initially been closed with, and it startles you. despite anticipating a confrontation as the verbal fight had neared your room, it comes as a surprise when the door nearly breaks free from its hinges, revealing an all too familiar black haired man. he looks awful in the dour lighting, and he adorned a uniform that haunted your very soul. a lesser version of what the military police had dressed in, lacking the coat with their respective symbol, it was the odm gear that struck you odd. eyes averting, you had noticed madam — who was standing behind him, with a languid arm extended towards his figure as if to grab him — was somehow much worse for wear as she had a dramatic hand over her heart as she caught her breath.

you regret not locking the door, but then again, that has never stopped levi from doing what he wants. he calls to you only by your name, and your spine crawls. whipping his head around, the hand levi had placed over the hilt of one of the unsheathed blades draws it from the holder, and he wastes no time in threatening the madam. it only takes the sight of the sharpened edge looming dangerously close to her neck for you to yell at her to get out. she hesitates, and you know why, the madam has failed to protect you countless times from levi, but this will be the time it counts, and she knows it too. but the downright malicious glare levi sends her way has her halted in her steps, and she makes no effort to stop levi as he enters the room and places a deceivingly quiet palm flat on the door, all whilst maintaining eye contact with her, before he slams the door behind him.

you set your hand on the bed, forcing yourself to sit up as levi stomps his way over to you. and the closer he gets, the more uncharacteristically messy you realize his clothes are. the white shirt he so often wears is not clean, it’s rather dirty in all honesty, sullied with what appears to be sidestreet grime and dross filth. his boots are muddy, dragging in sludge and black water that hadn’t already been scraped off at the doorstep and staircase. but perhaps what was the most disturbing were the stains of blood on his gear, ranging from inconspicuous flecks to big streaks that were likely still wet. levi must’ve noticed your perturbed observation, because when he finally finds himself standing before you, he bends down and grabs your jaw in his hand, roughly squeezing your face, and leaning down until your noses are just barely touching.

“i leave you alone for a month, and you let some piece of shit from the mp’s knock you up?” it’s his eyes that are the scariest, more than his strength, and you crumble underneath his scrutinizing gaze. your retaliation is much more timid than you intend it to be, as if you were guilty and confessing your sins. sins of disloyalty to a man you aren’t even with in the first place, “you can’t expect me to want to stay here, i saw a way out, and i was going to take it.”

it doesn’t cross your mind to question how he knows all of this. you’ve simply accepted it as fact that you will never experience true privacy after meeting levi. in retrospect, it’s ludicrous that you’re even explaining yourself to him, but you are and it’s not helping your case, “and how did that work out for you?” levi spits venomously, violently shaking your head side to side in his grasp until your eyes were rattling in your skull. levi only lets go to prop his foot up onto the side of the bed.

instinctively, you lean away from his knee, which is almost parallel to your head, setting your hand on his calf in an attempt to direct his body away from yours. levi places the blade he had refused to release from his grip back into the metal box it belonged in, dropping his leg to the ground and hoisting you up by your shoulders, “groveling at the feet of those pigs, you’ve become real pathetic, haven’t you?” you want to defend yourself, to call him a hypocrite, to call him pathetic for harassing someone like you that was undeserving of his badgering.

“how did you even know he was a soldier?” deflecting the topic from yourself to your genuine concerns, you go limp in his arms as levi twirls you around the room until he’s satisfied with your placement. positioning you in front of the windows, leaning slightly on the stool as he pushed you backwards until you could feel the cold glass frame through your nightgown. levi slovenly flicks the sash lock, holding onto the lift and pushing the window up, “where do you think i got all of this from?” you didn’t need any clarification to know that levi was referring to his equipment.

your chest tightens, constricting your airway as you stop breathing altogether to attain perfect stillness. you only look at him with vacant eyes, and it becomes too much when he doesn’t elaborate any further, “what did you do, levi?” he sticks his head through the window, ducking to avoid hitting his head on the top rail, and peering down at the ‘city,’ below. it isn’t as if he needed to, there wasn’t anyone on the streets. when levi pulls himself back into the room, he slings an arm around your hips to bring you closer, “what do you think i did? the man’s dead, do i have to spell it out for you?”

the prickling sensation underneath your skin erupts in waves across your entire body. you were no stranger to the realities of what went on around you, the hushed rumors of what men and women who had the will to do what they wanted to others simply because they were capable, and not out of survival necessity, “you’re sick, what is wrong with you?”

“call it what you want, but he has nothing for you. you want to leave the underground? hmph, well don’t we all?” levi mocks contemptuously, tightening his hold when he feels you threaten to slip away in the slightest. he moves you around like a rag doll by the sides of your body, until you're in front of him. levi closes the little space that was left between you, until you’re forced to grab onto him for support, seeing that straining your wrists to secure yourself by the windowsill was becoming too painful, “we can go wherever you want, but you won’t be going anywhere without me.”

suddenly, levi veers down. his body collapsing onto yours until you’re nearly halfway out of the window, and he, looming over you, “oh my god, what is wrong with you?!” you repeat, blood rushing to your head as you try to prevent your upper half from being upside down and being taken by gravity completely. levi guides your arms around his neck, loosely as you refuse to acknowledge you’re even embracing him in the first place, but your fear of falling surpasses your personal grudges. and in one swift motion, levi thrusts the rest of your body out of the window, and he follow suits mere seconds afterward. and you scream, as loud as humanly possible.

levi’s body never leaves yours, and you’re uncertain as to whether it’s because you won’t allow it, or because he won’t allow it. either way, the detach hold you had on his neck fastened into a tight chokehold the moment you had felt yourself even remotely lean back any further. the landing is much smoother than you anticipated, levi doesn’t let you touch the ground before he does. and if you hadn’t shut your eyes, or buried your face into the crook of his neck, you may have gotten to witness the vertical maneuvering equipment in action; what used to be a dream for you, to leave with it, but you could kiss those fantasies goodbye now that they found themselves in the hands of levi. and he’s cautious, all too cautious with you.

you’re trembling like a leaf, and he thinks that if he lets go of you, you’ll fall to the ground, “don’t think you haven’t pissed me off, now. there’s a million things i ought to do to you after getting with that sorry excuse of a man.” levi rests a warning hand on your shoulder, loutishly hauling you towards him until you just about trip over your feet. he makes sure you’re aware of the desolate area that surrounds you two; and it becomes increasingly obvious that no one would come to intervene. if not by your shrieking, then never. levi tilts his head with an unimpressed frown, “you’re lucky you’re pregnant with our kid, because i won’t even be half as merciful once they’re born.”

#ackerifle #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere attack on titan #yandere aot #yandere aot x reader #yandere levi ackerman #yandere levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x reader

125 notes · View notes

locallixie · 2 years

Note

hi!

can you do a chan angst but with fluff ending?

love your work 🫶🏻

us first — bang chan

> summary . it wasn’t just your fault, it seemed the both of you were in the wrong for lashing out at each other the way you did that night.

> genre . angst, fluff, domestic au, married life, husband!chan, gn!reader.

> warnings . argument, minor language.

(wc) > 3.1k

(sunny's note) ☆ oh my god is this angsty, the playlist i had playing the background when i was writing this really got me in my feelings.

It was one of those nights again, one of those nights where you had to go to bed by your lonesome. It has been like this for the past couple months, he hasn’t been coming home for a long long while now. You didn’t think you could even recall the features of his face anymore. You could not remember how his cologne smells like, or how his stature stood beside you. It almost felt as if you were never married at all.

Gazing at the silver wedding band that wrapped neatly around your finger, has this thing lost its meaning? It supposed to be a union, not a separation. Without him around, the ring you wore was just another random accessory that carried no significant. It came in a pair, did it not? The rings from a velvet box, it tied his soul to yours.

You knew to give up hope earlier than you expected, sat yourself straight with the reality that he was not coming home anytime soon. Chan has always been a workaholic, he would sometimes canceled dates ‘cause of how much work he had. You understood, or at least tried to. He only did it on rare occasions though, and if he did, he would make it up to you. However, that was during the time you two were still young and filled with passion. You were too in love to foresee the future when he proposed.

Now that you were in this situation, you couldn’t help but regret a bit. Overjoyed, you said ‘yes’ too fast. Was this what you really wanted? Or did you simply not want to embarrass him? You were sure with your feelings for each other, you were confident with your relationship. But sometimes you wished you spent a little more time thinking about your decision the day he proposed to you, if you didn’t let your heart fully speak for you.

Won’t be home ‘til two, don’t wait up. | 11:45pm

“You're always making me wait, you jerk.” You sighed, having some sadness peaking through your voice. You held no resentment for your husband, but in this case, you sure did have some hatred. He had forgotten you, where were his priorities? You didn’t want to be selfish, but you were his spouse, you should have a say in this relationship too. The 'your' was plural, it wasn't singular.

You couldn't sleep tonight, tossing and turning in your bed in distress. Your mind was in a disorder, thoughts kept flying across your head, thoughts that you repelled wholeheartedly. His warmth, you missed. The bed felt cold, a bit too cold for your liking. You knew your husband haven't even been coming into bed with you, he slept on the couch outside in the living room. At least it was the couch, and not the bed of another.

Where was he? At this late of a time? Please come home, you needed him. In desperation, you could only called out to him with your aching chest. No missed calls, a simple text message hurted so much more. You didn't feel like picking up your phone, it was all hopeless. Whatever he was working on, his total focus would be on that. But if he could just check his buzzing phone for one second, would he remember about you?

You couldn't help the tears, it had a mind of its own but a fragment of yours came along. The fabric of your pillows was the only thing wiping away your tears for you, wetted with the woe of yours. This bed was now too spacious for you, you hated how much space he left you with.

Crying to ease yourself to sleep, you felt light-headed enough to pass out. This sleep felt forced, felt like a distraction for you to forget momentarily. It seemed that you were going to miss his arrival once more, why did you try to stay up in the first place? Oh, it was the fact you had to constantly remind yourself that he loved you, he was busy and couldn't get home in time.

The clock told you it was the middle of the night, you awoken unwillingly with your head banging painfully. The door to your bedroom was still shut tight, but you saw a small ray of light peaking in through the cracks. Putting on your cardigan that you had threw on the floor earlier in a fit of silenced rage.

You got off the bed, leaving your shared bedroom. Despite how heavy your eyelids were, you could still make sense of the figure sitting on the couch. The T.V wasn't on, his bag was on the floor as well—he probably got back not too long ago.

"Hey, did I wake you up?" His voice sounded odd, deeper and tired. Not just that, you couldn't register in your head that that was the voice of your husband.

You sat down beside him, "Why are you not in bed?"

Chan looked at you, hesitant at the sudden question. You didn't bother to answer his. "I just got back a minute before, don't worry about it, I'll just finish a few things then I'll come—"

"You still have work?" You cut him off, not sensing the anger that was building up inside of you. He was pushing your limit and your patience, how longer must you wait to have one night with him just in bed with you?

Chan stopped for a second, the tone that you chose to deliver in was unlike you. “Yeah, why don’t you go back to bed, okay honey?”

After all that working, making you wait for God know how long, and he still have shit to do? He wasn’t just a workaholic like you thought he was, your husband was literally work obsessed. At this point, all he could think about was work, work, and work. In the span of the couple months he spent being away, the only thing occupied his mind would be his work. The songs he had to produce for his company’s artists, the meetings he had to attend, the ludicrous amount of paperwork about copyright infringement that he has to resolve. Not one second did he stop and think of the one waiting for him at home every night and day.

“You haven’t even been in bed for the past couple months, why are you telling me to go back?” Asked, the disappointment he left you was unbearable. He kept playing around, toying with the tiny bit of hope left in you that he would be back home early for once. Ever since you two got married, he has been working more and even overtime. As long as you remembered, you two haven’t went on your honeymoon yet. Did he put a ring on your finger and left as if your title as his spouse was a mere status symbol?

“Honey, let’s not do this. I’m stressed out and exhausted, and I don’t want to pick a fight with you right now.” Chan sighed, rubbing his face into the palm of his hands.

It had been too long, you were done with the stupid mind games he put you through. You wanted to pick a fight, wether he like it or not. You didn’t care about anything else, you would rather argue with him than not seeing him at all. You would happily pick a hundred fights with him if you could, as long as you’d get to be with him.

Your volume started getting louder, “And what if I want to? You don’t fucking care about me anymore! Is this the only way I can get you to pay some attention on me?” Tearing up, throat becoming tighter as you continued to force your words out.

Before he got a chance to reply, you interrupted him once more. “Shut up, you’re always telling me to wait, how about you wait until I’m finished saying what I got to say?”

You agreed that was quite rude of you, out-of-character might you add. But gosh were you angry, it has been sitting on your chest and making it hard for you to breathe for a while. There were many things you wanted to say, the only problem was that he was simply never home for you to do so. Until now that was, on the rare chance of having him in the same room as you. You were face-to-face with your husband, screaming and crying while he sat there without a clear emotion.

“The only thing you’re concerned about now is your work! What am I to you then, an after thought?! If you’re so interested in your work, why don’t you just leave me and go marry it already?!” You told.

“Can’t you see that I’m working to support us? I’m trying my hardest to put food on the table and shelter over our head, so what if I come home late or not at all, at least you’re not waiting for me on the cold fucking street!” He instantly retorted.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you tried wiping away the tears falling from your eyes but they kept coming nonstop. “Fuck you, Chan! I’m working too, it wasn’t my idea to move in together when we had nothing to our names!”

You deserved credit too, you were dealing with your full-time job to bring money in for both you and him. You weren’t a housewife, depending on Chan to survive. Instead, you were out there fighting for your life in a crazily competitive industry. Yes, you must admit that Chan contributed the most in your relationship, but that didn’t mean that he could throw you away along with your accomplishments.

You two were both broke college students when he popped the question, it was a risky decision back then. Everything that weighted heavily on your blossoming romance was the harsh reality, student loans, rents, and the debts that you both were in from your marriage. Young and dumb, what an era to be dead. What if you didn't say 'I do'? What if you told him to wait a bit longer? Then you two wouldn't be in this position, screaming at each other's faces with venom and knives.

"My mother was right about you! That I shouldn't have settle down in a rush like that! I had my whole life planned out ahead, but you came and ruined everything I have ever worked for!" You yelled at him, the plans you made didn't include him. He, was the part of the story in which you did not plan to write in the beginning, out of the blue he appeared in front of your eyes.

"Oh yeah?! You don't think that I want better things for my career? But I agreed to step down just because I didn't want any fame to get between us, if I haven't asked you to marry me then I would be out there making millions in a foreign country!" And he too was crying with you, his eyes and ears was flushed red in regrets.

"You know what, Chan?" You had enough of him, you couldn't stand another day living this soulless life in a house where it was cold and woeful. Taking off the ring that bind you two together, you threw it at him. "Let's end this, let's get a divorce."

Running away in tears, you locked yourself in your bedroom. No matter how many times he was going to knock or call out your name, you weren't going to open yourself any time soon. This time, you would be closing it off for good. So was this the end? That was it? You wished you and him could have a different ending, but from how you both acted, there wasn't any chance it seemed.

Like you expected, as soon as you opened the door, he was no where to be found. This house felt nothing like home, the shades of blue you two painted it with. For the next few days, he was not going to be home. You did not receive a single text, much less a call from him. He didn't tell you where he was, or when he was going to be home. The line has gone quiet, and you had no idea of how to fix it—or if you should even fix it at all.

A cold war between spouses, neither of you were ready to apologize to the other. Of course you were mad at him, furious even. However, you were at fault for lashing out at him the way you did, how could you? The words you spoke were totally out of anger, you didn't mean it. No, maybe you did a bit—and you guilty of it. As far as you knew, you messed up big time.

Stubborn, you wanted to be, kept waiting for him to finally break off this foolish war that you started. You admitted that you were quite embarrassed and scared to face him again, you were such a coward with your true feelings that you would rather hide and wait for the other person. You were wrong, but you were not ready to face that truth yet. In the back of your mind, every part was building up the courage to tell him that you were sorry. Sorry for a lot of things, or sorry for everything. Because you knew, if you kept up with this recreant act, you may not see him ever again.

That pain in your chest, between your ribs kept aching. Day after day, the absence of him slowly broke you down little by little. It started with the thoughts of him, how his image and the happier moments you made together began replaying in your head without a stop. It had gotten so bad to the point you were desperate, hugging the clothes he left in the closet. Anything, you would give anything! If it meant that Chan would be back home, you were ready to give up so much for him.

You haven't eaten much these recent weeks, your body was weak and slowing down from the lack of nutrients. The silenced conflict you had gotten yourself in has taken quite a toll on you, missed one or two work days, shed some tears here and there. Still holding onto one of his black hoodie, the scent of his perfume was beginning to fade away already. The only thing that was never going to disappear from your grasp was the music he wrote, all his wonderful songs that his artists blew life into. You couldn't stop listening to them, even if his sweet voice wasn't present, the lyrics had a piece of his heart and half a piece of his soul.

The sad love songs he wrote lured you to sleep, the lullaby of a devoted husband. One more time, you begged with the entirety of yourself for him to come back home. You were raising the white flag, you were backing down and asking to restore peace. No more fights, your husband was enough for you, you would not ask for more.

As you awoken for tomorrow, there were no life left over for you. Immediately closing your eyes to shut out everything, at this moment, it felt as if everything was going to hurt you. A cold feeling kissed your skin when you went to wipe your wet eyes, it contrasted drastically on your warm cheeks. Your sight fixed itself on the wedding band around your finger, it took a minute for you to realize that it was physically there in front of the shock on your face.

The weight on your stomach wasn't just the blanket, a whole arm laid over your body. Nothing could describe the feeling you were going through, finally seeing your husband soundly sleeping on the same bed as you. Every time you tried to move, he pulled you a bit closer to him. The touches of his rough calloused fingers brushed appreciation upon your skin, worn out from working, to you were gentle nonetheless.

This life would be nothing without him, sometimes the rain will be falling and the sun will hide away. Although, it was terrible, especially when you were out there wet with no umbrella. After the gods stop crying, something wondrous was bound to happen. Either it was sunlight pouring upon everything, or him running to you just as wet with a coat in hand.

I love you | 2:45am

You were his person, his desire, and his pride. He too, would be a nobody without you. This life that you created together from nothing to something. The doors wouldn't have to close as long as he was here beside you, he would polish your lock and share the keys with you.

Lowering your ego, pressing your lips on his forehead. It wasn't worth it to fight, everything got blown out of proportions. Let's both agree to come home and see eye-to-eye again. In a weak voice, you spoke to him. "I'm sorry."

In answer, you received his soft lips on yours. Pulling you to him, his hand holding you nape. When was the last time he kiss you? Too long to remember. A hazy memories yet you wanted to live in the present. Reminiscence held no meaning, 'cause it felt every emotions you once felt and every thought you once had was happening right here right now. If he could hold you forever and never have a single thought of letting you go, you were ready to see the end with him.

"I'm in the wrong, honey, don't you say sorry." Chan replied, wrapping his arms around you once again. Holding you sweetly as he pulled the covers over your body. Whatever time of day it was, you two would happily miss works for your reunion.

"Chan, but it was not right of me to blow up on you like that. If I could have been a little nicer, and have a bit more patience—"

Chan interrupted, "Stop talking, I love you, okay? I don't care what happened or is going to happen, I just care about you." He held your left hand to his lips, kissing it with all the love and adoration he saved in him for solely you. "From now on, I'm putting us first."

For once, this house actually felt like home. The warmth that now arrived from its long hiatus, may it co-exist with you and your husband for eternity. Yes, you would be having many more fights in the near future, but for only this moment, you were going to live in the present in his embrace.

429 notes · View notes

bri-in-ur-attic · 5 months

Text

Someday, Our Fascinations Will Align

—-

Do you remember the moment you fell in love? The moment when you were the only two people in the world. That splendid, magical moment when all your sadness was forgotten.

—-

I dedicate this to @engardeitsme <333 we share an unhealthy amount of love for the B.R.B, she also did an amazing fan casting of these idiots which is how i envisioned the brotherhood and is also writing a fic series of the battle maniac!! 100% recommend it

Heads up: kidnapping but (Name) vibes w it, typical black rabbit brotherhood violence, perspective changes, this is a long fic like over 7k so prepare yourselves

pairing is battle maniac x fem!reader , but there are implications of P x reader

longest fic I’ve ever written and its for a bunch of assholes that were punching bags for P *sigh*

------------------

“Hopping around Elysion Boulevard doing God knows what and in the end, getting yourself hurt! Like seriously you’re running my medic supplies dry!”

“Quit your yammering the black market will provide you more.”

Most people shrivel at just the mention of the Black Rabbit Brotherhood, yet here you were scolding the one who was infamous for putting unfortunate souls in the Liar's Coffin

It was a simple negotiation really, in exchange for your medical knowledge and treating their wounds, considering they live life on the edge, you were sworn with protection from the Brotherhood without paying the dumb fee.

And by negotiation it went more like you were kidnapped against your own will after the brotherhood tried to rob you but deemed you more useful by keeping you by their side

For a bunch of criminals, you could tell they care for each other’s well being and soon enough, they grew accustomed to you. The brotherhood was amused by your gutsy attitude and feistiness as if you weren’t surrounded by dangerous criminals, amusement turned into respect which then turned into kindling a fondness towards you

The Eldest, Cyrus would tease about small you were compared to him and often annoy you by holding things above your head

Buckethead was the one abusing the microphone constantly, for an oddball, he had quite an elegant name, Oswald. You liked to call him Oz for short to which he had taken a liking to, it sounds similar to odd funnily

The baby of the group was Bonnie being merely 16 years old, at first you had no idea that there was a sister in the Black Rabbit Brotherhood as the name speaks for itself let alone one being this young. She was quite touchy by wrapping her arms around you and constantly wanting your attention by whining about the tiniest scratches she gets and wanting immediate medical attention

And finally, the one who was currently at your mercy was the battle maniac of the group, if you were being honest all siblings were battle maniacs but whatever

You would always butt heads with him at any chance you got as he always gave the best responses to your remarks, he was simply fun to argue with

“For God’s sake go easy on tightening those bandages, my arm's ‘bout to bust!”

“Awww is poor bunny about to cry cuz he can’t handle a bit of pressure?”

“Shut up, just do your damn job.”

“Shame that these bandages and medicines are wasted on you.” With a huff, you finish wrapping his arm

“Oh and it’s not a waste to use 'em on Bonnie’s paper cuts?”

“Any injury no matter how miniscule it might seem isn’t worth not treating, one cut can turn into a nasty infection.”

Finishing wrapping the bandages you pat on his shoulder firmly

“Done, Rojo.” he winces

The brother with the red scarf hadn’t revealed his name and identity to you while the others have unconcealed themselves to you, he was a tough nut to crack compared to the others. Heck you found the Eldest to be more approachable than him

And so you nick-named him Rojo (Ro-ho) because of his red scarf

”Stop calling me that.”

”Oh? You don’t like Rojo? Then what would you like me to call you? How does Bun-Bun sound?”

”Call me that and you’ll be fed to those monstrous freaks.”

After washing your hands, you grab a rack with a sigh

”Look, I gotta call you something, Rojo is the best I could think of unless you spare me the trouble and give me your damn name.”

His masked face directs to you, seemingly in deep thought and then looks down on the floor

”Elyas.” he let out begrudgingly

”Elyas ..” you repeated in a soft tone testing how his name rolled off your tongue

”That wasn’t so hard now was it Elyas ?” With a cheeky grin you walk out of the room

Elyas watches your figure get out of his range of sight and takes off his rabbit mask running his hand through his dark waves

“That woman is gonna be the death of me..”

——

It had been about a month of being ‘held hostage’ by the Black Rabbit Brotherhood, overtime they let you have more freedom such as wandering through the Malum district as long as one of them was accompanying you, quite restrictive freedom but you have no combat abilities so this didn't bother you all that much as the brothers and sister pretty much acted as bodyguards

Now that the Malum District officially had a doctor, the Brotherhood originally wanted to charge those who seeked you for medical attention but you gave them an earful before they could

Today you were meeting with the Robinson family and the one escorting you was Elyas , who recently trusted you with his name

The walk was quiet and a bit tense, if in different circumstances it would look as if the the two of you were on a awkward first date due to the close proximity and stiffness

Up ahead seeing the Robinson’s small run-down house up ahead, Elyas leaned his back against the neighboring houses

“Hurry up, make it no longer than 10 minutes.”

”Oh what a pity, I was hoping to bake a pie with the Robinsons today.” you say sarcastically and knock on the Robinson’s door

Civilians nearby peeped their heads out, seeing the poor doctor being held captive by the ruthless Black Rabbit Brotherhood, the residents viewed you highly for aiding the District with daily check-ups

“That poor girl, God knows what those ruffians make her go through..” one of the civilians say

Seeing the Battle Maniac glance up in their directions, the neighbors duck their heads away

You knock on the door and call out for the Robinsons

“Mrs. Robinson? It’s me, (Name).”

And it didn’t take long for the aged woman to open the door, her gaunt features welcome you

“Oh Doctor (Name), it is very good to see you, please come in.”

Closing the door after you come in, Mrs. Robinson leads you to her husband, who looked in better condition than the last time you saw him, the Robinson children also greet you while the oldest nods his head with a small smile

“The echinacea tea did wonders to me. I can't thank you enough Miss (Name).”Mr. Robinson says with weak smile

“It was my pleasure, I’m glad you have been making progress to a full recovery. I was going to check on your health but it seems your immune system is doing all the work and my visitation is unnecessary.”

“Oh hush dear you are always welcome in our humble abode, you have always been very kind to us, do please stay for a little longer will you?” Mrs. Robinson directed her hand towards the living room

“Ah I wish I could, but I’m afraid my time here is limited for I have an invisible lengthy chain on my ankle.”

“That hooligan from the brotherhood is it? Honestly I send my condolences to you for dealing with those bad men.”

“I can hold my own against them. They cannot be tamed, but they can be reasoned with.”

“I see, well good luck out there dearie, please take care of yourself too.”

“Thank you Mr. and Mrs. Robinson, best of wishes to you and your family.” With a small bow you make your way to the door

“E-excuse me, Miss (Name)?”

The eldest of the Robinson children was Finlay, though he was barely a child as he was in his young adulthood

Now having your attention, Finlay grasps his hands together

“If you don’t mind, may we talk for a bit?”

“Hm, I suppose I have a few minutes to spare but do make it quick, the rabbit who’s acting as my esquire isn’t known for having patience.”

With a deep breath, the fair-headed boy looks at you with a deep gaze that is laced with worry

“I hate to see you go off with the evil brotherhood, surely there must be something we can do to help you.”

With a sad smile, you shake your head

“I very much appreciate your concern Finn, but I accepted my fate and I swear on my life that I am ok. Besides, who will provide you all with check-ups if I escape this dreaded town?”

Finlay’s expression hardens “Then you don’t have to escape, hide in our home and we can take care of you just like how you’ve taken care of us.”

“Finn..please don’t risk your family’s lives and your own for me.”

“But I would risk my life for you! Because I-”

“Alright, time's up!”

The door violently burst open revealing Elyas

Upon seeing you and Finlay, something in Elyas cracked as he approaches Finlay in a threatening way and grabs him by the collar of his shirt

“So you’ve been extending the doctor’s session eh? I'm afraid you're gonna have a fee for that, blondie.”

“S-sir please I’m sorry! W-we don’t have anything to give you! We're barely getting by after this month's fee!”

You immediately grab Elyas’ arm and attempt to pull him away from Finlay

“Cut it out! I was about to leave anyway!”

“This piss-haired rat got greedy and reached over the time limit, now he has to pay the price.”

You get between the boys and with all your might push Elyas’ chest away from Finlay, while doing so, Elyas’ puppet string accidentally pricks your cheek but the minor injury barely bothered you

“Stop! It was only for a few minutes, let it go!”

Elyas looked at you and you hear the crinkling of his gloves due to his fists clenching

“Fine.”

Letting out a sigh of relief you look back at Finlay who still looked like he had the heavens scared out of him

“You will no longer visit this house.”

You look back at Elyas with wide eyes and before you can protest he grabs your arm and pulls you out of the Robinson's household

“Wait a minute!..Elyas!”

With a panicked look, you look back to the house and see a distraught Finlay reaching his hand out

“Please just stop for a moment!”

Ripping your arm from Elyas’ iron grip you rub the area and glare at him

“What has gotten into you? I know you’re a jackass but you really have crossed the line this time!”

“That beggar boy was the one crossing the line by wasting our time.”

With a sigh, you stay silent briefly

“You know.. you were a hypocrite when you called him greedy when all you and your siblings do is suck up all my time like a bunch of mosquitos.”

Now it was Elyas’ turn to stay silent, he turns to you and looks down at the small gash on your cheek

He approaches you slowly and grabs a hold of his red scarf, ripping it. He then daps the blood off that was on the plump of your cheek

You felt almost every negative emotion under the sun towards Elyas, fear, anger, frustration and even amusement

This was the first he made you flustered, you’ve been in close positions with Elyas before but it was when he needed treatment. Now he was willing to be this close to you to do a quite sensual gesture

“What are you doing?…”

Elyas lets a scoff ”You said it yourself, any injury no matter how miniscule it might seem isn’t worth not treating, one cut can turn into a nasty infection.”

“Oh..”

With a small hum, Elyas continues to treat the cut on your cheek ”Sorry.” His apology was quick and blunt but there was a hint of sincerity in it

”It’s.. whatever I’ll treat it myself when we get back.”

Backing away from you, Elyas’ hand hovers over your cheek and feel his finger brushing over your injury

You look up to meet his eyes that were concealed behind his rabbit mask, sometimes you wonder how these guys could see through those atrocious masks

Desperately wanting to see what he was thinking, you gaze into the eyeholes of Elyas’ mask, to see what the hues of his eyes were and if they even held light

You wanted to see his humanity

Immediately he withdraws his hand away from you and makes a quick turn to continue his way

“Let’s go.”

Recovering from what just occurred, you slowly make your way behind Elyas

”I’m still gonna visit the Robinsons.”

“You won’t be a mile radius near that shithole when I’m around.”

”So what you’re saying is as long as you're not breathing down on my neck I can visit them?”

”What I’m saying is if I see you interact with that scrawny piece of shit, no treatment will ever be able to cure what I’ll do to him.”

It felt like Cyrus slammed his greatsword on him when Elyas realized what he had just said, visibly stiffening but regained composure

Then it hit you, Elyas was jealous

This new found discovery both appalled and terrified you

He was the equivalent of a school boy who was crushing that just happened to have violent tendencies towards his rivals, it seems you won’t be visiting the Robinsons for a while for Finlay’s sake

You couldn’t but help feel bad for the poor boy, his feelings towards you was obvious but you never really saw him that way, sure you thought he was adorable and very kind but he just was never really your type unfortunately

But Elyas?..

The both of you didn’t quite have a pleasant start and to this day you had lingering feelings of resentment towards him and his siblings

Despite that, your fondness for them grew more than your grudge

After all they guaranteed you safety when you weren’t even sure if Hotel Krat could be a place to seek refuge and for better or for worse there was never a dull day with the brotherhood. You weren't just surviving, you were living

And the somewhat intimate moment you just shared with Elyas and how he and his siblings aid each other is enough for you to believe that the brotherhood has a soul that was tainted due to the result of evolving in a harsh environment

Hiding your smile, you follow Elyas towards the Red Lobster

Oswald and Bonnie were present, hanging out and having some downtime

”We’re back, but I’m gonna head back to headquarters real quick, don’t you knuckleheads plan something idiotic when I’m gone.”

Oswald only waves his hand dismissively and Bonnie sticks her tongue out at Elyas

“How was your trip (Name)?” Bonnie asks in a cheerful tone

”Phew it was quite something, I’ll tell you that.” You place your hands on your hips and bounce on your feet making eye contact with Bonnie with a nervous smile

“Speaking of trips, I call the shots on taking our doc through Malum next week! I haven’t done errands with her in a long while!”

”Hey! It’s my turn to hang out with (Name)! I thought we were following the pattern!” Bonnie complains and lightly shoves Oswald

“Since when did we ever agree to that? It’s whoever gets to her first the one going little sis!”

With an audible pout, Bonnie sits back down on her seat

”Not fair! (Name) please tell him off!” Bonnie drags out your name

”No can do Bon, first come first serve.” You say with a cheesy grin

”I’ll beat you to her Oswald! You’ll see!”

”Oh really? Well that’s a shame ‘cause I already got to her!”

Oswald dashes from his seat and grabs you by the waist hoisting you over his shoulder

“Oz! This is very unnecessary!” trying to hide your grin but fail as you grab onto his shoulders

“Hold on tight doc!~”

Bonnie jumps from her seat and dashes towards Oswald who was now carrying you

The two siblings laugh hysterically chasing each other while you cling on to dear life to Oswald’s shirt and join in on the laughter

“What did I say about planning something idiotic while I’m gone?”

Elyas voice suddenly echoed throughout the room causing the siblings to stop

“Ahh lighten up brother, we were just having a little fun!”

”Not much fun anymore when you’re dizzy! Now put me down Oz!”

“Alright alright down you go doc.”

Setting you down with ease, Oswald then wipes off invisible dust off of you

“There you go all in one piece.”

“Quit touching her. Now scram, Cyrus asked for you and Bonnie back in headquarters.”

”Huh? What for?”

Elyas simply shrugs

Oswald let out a loud groan ”It better be good, c’mon Bonnie.”

”Watch my cheesecake for me (Name)!” Bonnie then scurries out of the room right behind Oswald

“Hey, what did Cyrus ask them for?”

“Nothin’ I was jesting.”

You shoot Elyas a blank stare

“Don't give me that look, I don't want to deal with their annoying asses when I play this.”

Elyas held up a record and walks over to the gramophone

Once he plays the record, an elegant sound of a violin plays along with an accordion that harmonizes with each other

The gramophone changes the setting of the rundown tavern of the Red Lobster into a more elegant atmosphere, both you and Elyas lean against the bar table. The sound of the singer’s rich voice singing in a language you somewhat understood

“Say Elyas, do you comprehend French?”

He only shakes his head “I never knew what the hell the guy was saying, I just like how it sounds.”

“From my limited French knowledge, what I’m getting at is that the singer is longing to meet his departed lover..”

Concentrating on the singer’s words you close your eyes

“You will come back

Someday

Someday…”

Halfway through the song there was a solo

“And..listen to my heart,

I will wait for you

Even if my heart hurts..

So that you can hear my words

I will wait for you..

I will wait for you..”

The record meets its end as the accordion slows down fading away bringing you back to the dreary tavern

“Since when did you understand French? "

"I'm not quite fully fluent in it, the Monad Charity House taught some classes."

"You went to that Charity House?"

With a nod of your head you continue, then grabbing the chain of your necklace, you show Elyas your graduation necklace that was hidden under your blouse

"Yup, I grew up in the Charity house and wanted to become an Alchemist at first but I couldn’t read alchemical equations for the life of me. However I liked science enough to pursue the medical field."

“I see, glad you didn't join those egotistical smartasses.”

”Heh, I suppose so, I didn’t even like them all that much if I’m being honest.” You look at Elyas “Seeing how you and your siblings ar-were Stalkers, were you all in the Charity House as well?”

Elyas notices your slip up and crosses his arms “Nope, the four of us grew up in the alleys, the Sweepers in our area taught us since we were young.”

“Oh, it must’ve been rough growing up in such a place.”

“But it’s what made us strong and outlived the other weak fools. We survived this far, and we will continue to do so together as a family.”

Turning your head away from Elyas you chuckle softly

“What’s so funny?” Elyas asked in a condescending tone

All this time, you believed the Puppet Frenzy and the Petrification disease brought the worst out of humanity, from those who exploited Krat’s vulnerable position and ransacking homes, to survivors who were now in a dog eat world where the strong live and are victorious while the weak can only hope for a quick death

There were countless times when the Brotherhood made it clear they couldn’t give a rat’s ass about fighting with honor, as former Sweeper Stalkers it was in their psyche to survive and win, simply that. But there were cracks to their rough exterior, their love of family for one another.

The reason the Black Rabbit Brotherhood lived this long was their camaraderie and sticking together as a family.

And most recently there was another Achilles heel to their bruteness, you.

The feeble yet firm doctor who doesn’t carry a sword but a stethoscope and briefcase full of instruments to life. Unlike the brotherhood, gentle and merciful

“It’s just, you four are a group of delinquents with disregard for others, but I find it quite endearing that you all got each others’ backs. You all understood you were stronger together.”

“Oh? Getting all sappy on us now, are we?”

“Quiet you, I still don’t like how you treat the poor civilians here and would find an escape route at any given chance.” you didn’t quite mean that last part, but you wanted to get a reaction from Elyas to get back at him

And it seems to have worked too well as Elyas stayed silent and motionless with his teasing disappearing in an instant

“Would you.. actually?..”The tone of his voice almost makes you feel bad, the desperation and worrying riddled in his words

Caught off guard by Elyas’ question you stutter out “Uh-Uhm yeah..I would.”

You side eye Elyas to get a glimpse of him, he faces the floor, silent

“Hey.. I was jesting.” a callback to when Elyas repeated your words

His head suddenly turns to you, you expected him to implode on you but instead your ears were met with a light chuckle

“God…you really are a pain in the ass.”

Looking towards Elyas you also let out a soft chuckle, then you glance down on his hand that was draped on the table, there was this urge to get close to him, to feel a connection

You already suspected he has some type of attraction towards you, and may you be damned for reciprocating them

Slowly, your hand itches closer to Elyas’ hand. Once the tips of your fingers meet, you feel his fingers flinching, taking this as a sign he didn’t want to be touched, you pull your hand back slowly

There was a sudden pressure on your hand and the feeling of leather'

You look down to see Elyas’ hand on yours but he refuses to meet your eyes

Instead you feel him squeezing lightly

“Hey Elyas you lying asshole! Cyrus said he didn’t fucking ask for us!” Oswald's eccentric accent breaks the peace

Immediately the both of you retract your hands

“You just lied to steal (Name) away from us didn’t you?” Bonnie jumps down from the level rail and tugs on your arm “C’mon let’s get away from these dumb dumbs!”

As Bonnie drags you away, Oswald and Cyrus walk up to Elyas

“Ha! If you wanted some alone time with doc, you ‘coulda just said something!” Oswald teases

“Shut up.”

Cyrus laughs and slams his large hand on Elyas’ back making him let out a groan

——

“Ah good evening Miss (Name)! What can I get for you?” The black market merchant greets you

“Say you wouldn’t happen to have some records on you would you?”

“Is that even a question worth asking? Of course!” He then pulls out a crate full of records

“Feel free to look through this mess and pick the one you want.”

Kneeling down, you browse through the records looking for a certain one

“Nope..nope..not this one…found it!”

Pulling out your desired record, you pull it towards your face, admiring the beautiful artwork that decorated it

“Oh? Fascination? Now that’s a classic!”

“An oldie but a goldie. Here’s the ergo.”

“Thank you very much, oh and you’re aware that it’s the instrumental version right?”

“Quite aware, I weirdly prefer this version.”

“To each their own I guess. Well I hope you enjoy it and have a pleasant night.” The merchant tips his hat

“Thank you, good night to you too.”

You walk back where the gramophone that Elyas played earlier was. Taking out Elyas’ record gently placing it away and slipping in yours

Resting your head on the table, you close your eyes and let the music immerse you in a different reality

It sounded as if the violin was singing, synchronizing with the backing instruments, perfectly capturing the beautiful feeling of falling in love

“You’re up late.”

Your eyes stay shut briefly and let out a deep exhale

Pushing yourself off the table, you look up to where Elyas was, you could make out his figure but couldn’t see his face where his mask usually was

On closer inspection, you noticed that his shadow lacked the silhouette of the rabbit ears his mask had

“Come now, don't be shy, I won’t run if your face is ugly.”

This might just be the first time you’ll see Elyas without his mask, the anticipation was killing you

Realizing Elyas hasn’t yet moved from his spot, you had an idea

You turned around with your back now facing him

“Come down when you’re ready, I’ll wait all night, I certainly won’t mind listening to this for hours.”

Then you hear Elyas’ footsteps descending down the stairs, with each step he takes it makes your heart beat faster

Just what could he look like? Masculine, feminine or a mix of both? But you have a hard time imagining a feminine face for Elyas

A gloveless hand rests your waist, while another grabs your hand, twirling you around and you meet face to face with the face you longed to see

Messy raven hair was the first sight in your field of vision

Elyas perhaps has the most beautiful blue eyes you’ve ever seen, it wasn’t the type of blue that pierced into your soul, rather it was a calming blue, his eyes reminded you of the romantic evening nights that was once common in Krat’s skies. Elyas had quite a pale complexion, making the dark circles under his eyes more prominent. The bridge of his nose had a scar kissed on it, his appearance was almost exactly how you expected him to be, rugged but quite pleasing on the eyes, dare you say it, handsome.

What somewhat surprised you was how young Elyas looked, he looked like a man barely in his early 20’s. At the prime of young adulthood, around the same age as you.

You’ve seen how the other members of the black rabbit brotherhood looked like, they all possessed unruly jet black hair and a birthmark somewhere etched on their faces. Elyas had a few beauty marks patched on his face, from under his cheek, chin, even one near his nose. You’re enticed to caress the moles and the scars on his face

“With the way you’re eyeing me, I can’t tell if you’re eating me up or about to run off with your tail between your legs.”

Ignoring his teasing, you continue to gaze at him

“It’s just, you’re so beautiful…”

Elyas’ eyes widen, his face reddening and he lets out a small chortle

“You’re quite the beauty yourself, doctor.”

Bashfully, you lower your head, and lightly smack Elyas’ chest

“Hey, don’t you get shy on me now.” gripping your chin to lift your face up

Wordlessly, Elyas then guides you to the center of the floor, hand firmly on your waist still

You stare at the decomposing wooden floor of the Red Lobster, in this moment, you momentarily forget about the dire situation around you, the disease, the frenzy, none of it mattered in this one moment. You look up to the source of your escape from reality, he looks down at you with the same amount of longing

Everytime Elyas’ foot moves forward, yours moves back, when he leads you toward the left you follow his footing, coordinating with his movements causing the both of you to form a slow dance

Your hand rests on his shoulder while the other is held by Elyas’, now lacking the gloves

His hands were rough, almost having a sandpaper-like feeling, years of brawling in the rigorous culture of the alleys left him with textured palms

Elyas’ gaze turns into an ambivalent expression, him two months ago would laugh at his current self for being vulnerable and soft towards the flimsy doctor. For years Elyas’ heart conditioned itself to lock itself away from tender emotions such as love, it only had room for his family, but somehow you happened to make your way into his heart and heal what the world had done to him. What one hell of a doctor you were.

Elyas never was bothered by the fact he’s put a few people six feet underground in the past, leaving his hands stained with blood. Guilt now had a hold on him. Not for the ones slain by him, but for now tainting you, a doctor who dedicated her life to saving lives now associating herself with death himself.

As soon as the music reached its’ climax, Elyas grabs your waist and lifts you up in the air, spinning you around and gently setting you back down leaving you in a brief daze

As the music reaches the end, Elyas dips you down

Slowly bring you back up, his hands still hold you, as if he wished for this moment to never end

Meeting Elyas’ eyes, your hand that was on his shoulder moves up to to cup his face and he closes his eyes, indulging in your warmth

Soft and docile, you felt exactly how Elyas imagined

Would…your lips feel the same?

Opening his eyes, Elyas keeps them lidded as he glances down at your lips

Understanding what he was asking of you, you give him the most love-struck grin and close your eyes, leaning forward

Like magnets, your lips pull in towards Elyas’

Bliss would be an blatant understatement, nothing could ever comprehend the overabundance of emotions you were feeling, both negative and positive

Each movement of your lips with Elyas’ sent adrenaline of excitement and a sense of freedom, sharing saliva with a parlous man like Elyas would be considered unorthodox, but who is left in Krat to judge you?

—-

As time went on, more and more residents succumbed to the Petrification disease and more mutated monsters infested the district, ever since the Alchemists promised a so-called cure to the disease, Krat’s problems seemed to have worsened, those damned Alchemists had done something horrific to those refugees in the Cathedral.

You knew those Alchemists were suspicious from the start, this only worsens your disdain towards them

Much to your dismay the brotherhood refused to let you out in the district anymore, leaving whatever surviving residents to tend to themselves

You couldn’t help but feel hopeless couped up in headquarters, surely there were those who have yet to succumbed to the Petrification disease that is need of medical care

Cleaning and organizing your medical tools, you hear Elyas approaching near you, he takes off his mask

Your relationship with Elyas reached a new degree, it has no label yet but the feelings are there and real. And so you just let it happen and see how it goes from there

“That frown has been common on your face these days.” Elyas says as he grabs and raises your chin,

With a tight smile, you grab his hand on your chin and intertwine them with yours

“You know why I’ve been getting frown wrinkles.”

His eyebrows furrow “And you know why we don’t want you going out there, the world is going to hell, it’s too dangerous.”

You sigh and break eye contact, but keep your hands connected

Stroking your cheek, Elyas leans closer to your face “You worry too much, let’s just look after each other now eh?”

Calloused hands grab your cheek to direct your face towards him, Elyas leans forward to capture your lips in a soft kiss to which you return

The newfound connection you’ve made with Elyas is yet to be revealed to his siblings, but you assume at this point they’ve connected the dots by now with how insistent Elyas is to be close in your presence and they bite their tongues to avoid his retribution

Pulling away, Elyas hovers over your face

“There’s an intruder in the District, stay in headquarters until we deal with this pest.”

Your eyebrows downturn “Intruder? Is it another Stalker?”

”Not sure, but he does wield a weapon and has competent skills with it.” Elyas stares off in space deep in thought “So stay put, will you?” Looking at you with a hardened but pleading look

With a sigh you nod

“Thank you.” With one more quick kiss, Elyas slowly parts from you and heads out the door, “We won’t take long.”

As you watch him leave, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread, no one outside Malum has ever made it far into the District due to the immense number of carcass monsters increasing

But it gave you a sense of hope?

Who would be bold enough to infiltrate the den of the notorious Black Rabbit Brotherhood unless they had a motive to put them in their place. For the longest time, you thought humanity lost its willpower and strength, God knows what’s happening to the world outside of Krat. Despite your affections for the Brotherhood, you can’t help but respect the one who has the guts to face them. And it’ll be a shame if Krat’s last spark of hope gets snuffed out.

With a determined look, you go against Elyas’ wish. Grabbing a cloak and a small messenger bag, you make your way up to the roof

—-

The Malum District was the embodiment of misery and despair, P never thought that he'd ever miss the Puppets that he once loathed and wished to eradicate

Any sight of puppets would be a welcoming sight compared to these monstrous sights

As he makes his way through the streets, P notices writing on the walls

‘The Angel of Malum, Doctor (Name) where are you? Please we need you!’

‘Damn the Brotherhood for taking away our Angel!’

‘Prayers for the Angel of Malum, our beacon of hope’

This (Name) person must’ve be an important figure in the Malum with how many memorials he’s seen for this doctor

While observing the walls, there was a sudden groan heard from one of the houses

Raising his weapon, P stalks closer to the source of the sound

Heading inside, a gold-haired man was the first thing he sees, tainted with the blue of the disease

“W-who are you?.. (Name)..?”

The slouching human lifts his head up looking up at P, his deathly pale blue face had a look of hope that fell immediately

“Oh… you’re not her…they’re still holding her captive... If she’s even alive...”

”Who?” P asks

”She was our angel (Name)…she gave comfort and aided to those in need of care…until the brotherhood took her away…” The blonde man lets out a violent cough ”Mister…you must save her if she's still alive and well…those awful Black Rabbit Brotherhood caged her up in their hideout…my final wish is for her to be liberated…”

Contemplating, P then nods

“Haha…thank you…oh and if you see (Name) tell her that I, Finlay… love…”

Before the man could finish his sentence, death came for him first, his confession forever lost

—-

Stepping outside the house, P continues his way

*chirp* “Geez..poor guy, looks like he was the only survivor in his family judging from the other corpses inside the house..”

There was a sudden clamping on his leg

”Ha! It’s funny seeing ‘em all flustered!”

He looks up to see a girl with a rabbit mask

”Hey…the idiot’s actually a looker…” she then jumps back and retreats

P struggled to get the trap off his leg, each time he squirms it bites harder into his leg

“Oh my goodness, I’ll come down and help you!”

His head suddenly swings up, a woman in a hooded cloak gets down from the roof and rushes towards him

“How in the..how are you not bleeding?” The woman looks at P with confusion and curiosity “Are you… a puppet?”

Staring into the woman’s eyes, P nods his head, the hooded woman then had a look of reluctance before sighing

“Well alright then…let’s get you out of this bear trap.” She then presses on the springs, making the jaws of the trap lower. Feeling the pressure going away from his leg, P closes his eyes and lets out a sigh of relief. Opening his eyes, he looked at the lady who helped him. Up close she was quite pretty

She then offers her hand to him with a gentle smile, “Can you stand? That is quite a nasty trap you fell in.”

He grabs her smaller palms and with her help gets back up

*chirp* “Excuse me Miss if you don’t mind me asking, but just why are you helping my pal here? Considering people don’t treat puppets too well these days.”

“What the- did your bottom just talk??” The lady looks around P, looking for where the voice came from

*chirp* “Down here! I’m his guide, Gemini!” P grabs the lamp from his belt and raises Gemini towards the woman

“Oh.. interesting..” She looks at the lamp with intrigue, looking from the lamp and now to P “Well the reason I came to your aid, I get this feeling that you’re special.”

She continues, “The moment I heard you made it into Malum pass those awful creatures, something inside me just ruptured, like fireworks.” The lady then looks up at the dreary sky with a bittersweet smile “It was a feeling I hadn’t had in such a long time, hope.”

She looks back at P, her hopeful smile doesn’t falter. “I have no idea why, but I just have this gut feeling that you’re important, so please beware, the Brotherhood is wanting to put you under the ground.” Despite finishing her sentence, the kind lady had her lips in a tight line, almost as if she still had something to say

“If you do fight the Brotherhood…please refrain from killing them.”

*chirp* “I hate to be that guy but they're the ones who came after us first! If push comes to shove, we just might have to!”

A sigh of disappointment escapes from her lips. “Then please spare them for my sake, like some sort of favor.” She then gives a friendly smile “I'm (Name) by the way.”

“Doctor (Name)?” Hearing the beautiful boy talk for the first time surprises (Name)

“Yes... But not so much anymore, my patients have been limited to the Brotherhood these days.”

*chirp* “Well maybe that’s another darn good reason we need to get rid of them! They’re practically holding you captive!”

“I-it’s not necessarily like that!” (Name)’s hands rest on her forehead “maybe at first it sorta was but not so much anymore!”

P’s face gave away that he still wasn’t too satisfied with her response

“Come with me.” P says as he raises his hand towards (Name) and she stares at his mechanical arm

“Such a straightforward boy aren't you?” (Name) giggles but then shakes her head “I care too much for the Brotherhood now, but I believe they need to be humbled from time to time.”

Reaching inside her bag, (Name) pulls out three pulse cells

“Here, a fight is inevitable and you best be prepared, but I once again beg of you to not kill them, maybe a good whooping will do.”

Graciously accepting the pulse cells, P looks at (Name) and nods

Holding her hands to her chest (Name) smile gratefully at P “Thank you strong one. Once you liberate this city, I'll deal with the Black Rabbit Brotherhood.”

(Name) slowly steps away from P and makes her way back up climbing back up to the roof

As P watches her disappear, he looks at the pulse cells given to him by the first person who’s ever shown him kindness outside the Hotel,

He firmly grasps the items, humanity is still worth fighting for

—-

Managing to make it back in headquarters with no one noticing the doctor’s absence, in the nick of time the Black Rabbit Brotherhood were anticipating the intruder as the Eldest hauls the Liar’s coffin on his broad shoulders

The Rabbits were on the hunt

(Name) peeks out the window upon hearing the loud eruption on the front gate, humanity’s last hope crashes into the Black Rabbit Brotherhood’s lair

The four criminal siblings march toward, the one leading the group looks back at headquarters one last time, inside someone precious to him resides in it

—-

“Bring it on, you ain’t seen nothing like my brother.”

—-

“The toy is mine! Mine! Root for me brothers!”

—-

“Argh no! Knock him out bro!”

—-

”C’mon, you played nice with the others! Don’t you wanna play with me, mister puppet?”

—-

“So this is Geppetto’s puppet huh? Gotta admit: he knows what he’s doing.”

—-

One by one, you watch as each of the brotherhood get overpowered by the puppet you met earlier, it seems he was keeping up with his promise of not maiming them

Cyrus was holding his ground for longer

Finally, Elyas jumps down, facing the puppet

—-

“We don’t get extra points for fighting fair. Survive and win, that simple.”

—-

Elyas lasted longer than his other siblings, but you started to see cracks in his battle stance, he too was no match for Geppetto’s puppet

—-

“You’re no Bastard, nor Sweeper. Those moves of yours…”

—-

As you watch Elyas retreat away from the battle after a nasty hit, you notice him limping a bit. That set off all the alarms in your head. Grabbing your medical bag, you dash outside to his aid

Pushing the door with all your might, your outburst grabs Elyas’ attention who was on his knee, grabbing on the left of his side

“(Name)? What are you doing out here?! Get back inside!” You ignore his demands and rush next to him

”Quiet Elyas, you’re injured! Where does it most hurt?”

Reluctantly, Elyas looks down to his side, letting out a groan

You take off his mask and hood, revealing his pained expression “Breathing..hurts..”

Looking at his face that was induced with anguish increased your worry tenfold. Both of your hands grab his face in a gentle cradle and slowly Elyas succumbed to your touch, closing his eyes and breathing slowly

You now had a prang of remorse and regret, was it a good idea to help Geppetto’s puppet? You hadn’t meant for the brotherhood to get seriously hurt, at worst you expected bruises and maybe minor cuts but Elyas was showing symptoms of broken ribs

You turn around and see Oswald and Bonnie who are kneeling with fatigue. Geppetto’s puppet and Cyrus were still battling, you had to stop this madness before it gets worse

“Rest here.” As you get up, Elyas looks at you like you’ve grown 10 heads, he yells for you to stop, but you ignore them

—-

Right as P parried the Eldest brother’s blow, he staggers, giving him an open to attack

With a look with intent to kill, he raises his weapon for a deathly blow

“STOP!” The doctor P met earlier gets between him and the Eldest with arms wide open, immediately he halts

”Please, don’t kill them.. you’ve won, fair and square..” P notices on how much the girl was shaking

On que, the Eldest falls on the ground passing out due to exhaustion

”Brother!” The other siblings run to the Eldest’s collapsed body

—-

As Oswald and Bonnie ran over to Cyrus, they look to you for confirmation

Immediately you get beside Cyrus and put your ear on his chest, desperate to hear any signs of life

Thump thump

You let out an exhale that you held in for too long, “He’s gonna be alright..”

Bonnie gasps in relief as Oswald embraces his sister

Rising from Cyrus’ chest, you feel a hand on your shoulder, Elyas who’s hand was still on his side looks at you with gratitude and enamorment, he then looks at the puppet, face immediately souring

You grab his arm and shake your head, “Please, just let him go. It’s not worth it.” Elyas looks at you with a strife look before sighing and glancing back at the puppet.

“There’s a passage to the Krat Hotel inside, we better not see your face again, now fuck off.”

The beautiful puppet gives you one last look before heading inside the headquarters, you give him an assuring smile and watch him leave, perhaps you’ll see him again one day

“What’s the deal with you and Geppetto’s puppet eh?” Elyas asks in a skeptical tone and a raised eyebrow, clearly irritated

Your eyes roll

—-

It had been about over a week since the Black Brotherhood’s defeat against the puppet, a humiliating defeat, but they all survived in the end

Cyrus had made a full recovery, Bonnie and Oswald had very minor injuries but Elyas was still healing from his broken ribs

The skies of Krat started to heal as well as the gloomy gray clouds started to dissipate, the majestic blue skies was returning along with heaven’s beacon

Sitting on the roof of headquarters, a bittersweet smile creeps on the doctor’s face, it had been so long since she felt the sun kiss her skin

“Never thought you could ever be more beautiful until now, that sun does you justice, love” Elyas joins his beloved on her leisure on the roof

“Elyas you need to be resting!” she scolds him but he brushes her off

“Oh shut up, can I not gaze at the sun with my lady?” Elyas sits down next to (Name) and she gives in to his wishes. His arm wraps around her waist and pulls her close as she rests her hand on his chest

The pair admire the skies in comfortable silence until (Name) speaks up

“To think I met you in grim circumstances and I embrace you as if I knew you for years, have I gone crazy?”

Elyas snickers “You know you love me, as do I with ardent.” His windows to the world gaze into hers, they were each other’s worlds

“I’ll admit that I can’t help it, I really do love you.”

Elyas leans his forehead on (Name)’s and makes a vow

“(Name), one day, we all will get outta this shithole. And when we do, we can start over, maybe we can live like a real couple. I promise to get you out of here and give you a life you deserve.” Elyas’ words touch deeply in (Name)'s heart, somehow falling for him even more

“And Elyas, I pledge to stay by your side no matter what the world throws at us.”

They lean in for a kiss, it was as tender and passionate as any other they shared

The world around them was in chaos, but they knew they would be ok as long as they were together.

------------------

A/N: *SCREAMS IN AGONY* that was the longest fic ive ever written phew you deserve the world for reading all that cuz it was like over 7k words , but tbh i have mixed feelings over how i wrote the ending, its kinda shit imo

but once again thank you so much for reading, it actually means sm <3333

my friend who knows French helped with translations on the lyrics to Someday so shout out to him lmao

#lies of p x reader #lies of p #black rabbit brotherhood #black rabbit brotherhood x reader #lies of p fanfic

37 notes · View notes

vesselsscarlet · 29 days

Text

Please read.

Its important:

Alright.

I didn't want to do this but... here we are now.

We need to talk.

About the project. A serious talk.

This is my perspective, and I am pretty certain Crow signs it as well.

Crow sent me in the last few days the asks they received, just because they are transparent and they also hold me accountable enough as the second-in-charge. (Thanks boo, for also letting me answer things, or re-reading your answers if I wanted to add something)

And I must admit, it made me very upset.

Not directly at the anon*s, asking, but the entire situation made me.

I can totally understand if you want things to be perfect, it is totally fine if you are still handing them in, we seriously couldn't care less.

I can also understand fully if you haven't heard from the project until Crow was posting the reminders, using the tag.

But-

We didn't want to push things. And maybe we should have done that.

The only problem that was in the way is called

LIFE.

Yes, it may seem simple. But trust me.

Working on this project together and still having a distance from at least 4 hours of a train ride between us, plus having things going on in our lives didn't make it easier.

That's why we asked for checking out the tag regularily, especially if you haven't seen any updates yet.

Maybe we should have pinned something about this project, maybe it just vanished deep inside in the Tumblr lore.

But, ...

I participated in the Epistolary Collection project, and I could submit my letter. And I could make it because I had a deadline for myself. I added it in my phone calendar, so I wouldn't forget it.

And so would I for this project since it really means a lot to me.

But obviously, I have got a bit of more time.

We didn't want to pressure you with the reminders.

But after receiving not that many submissions via. E-Mail, Tumblr and none via. Discord, we decided to remind you.

And then receiving asks about this whole situation with little participation etc., ... trying to find reasons why it could be like that... stung me. (If any of the anon*s is seeing this, I am not mad at you, I am just frustrated and tired)

We felt like our project isn't valuable, that it isn't enough.

But this project came to life while I was living in London for my stay abroad, and now I cannot do anything but post this words here because I am busy with university and private circumstances.

We were sure that not everyone would actually participate or would be able to do so, but the result is making us sad.

We wanted to make it happen because of YOU.

Because we know that Sleep Token and especially Vessel connects US.

But please...

Why are you asking us why we didn't get submissions? Was it because of another project?

Hell, we announced this project in December, we tried to keep you updated in our best way possible.

Just because we didn't want to go on Instagram for it? Seriously?

We don't have any of a big appearance on Instagram, and I also don't like the fact of you seeing my personal account with pictures of me included.

I want to stay anonymous here, when it comes to showing myself.

Guys, you have no idea how hard it is to manage something big like this from two cities around the world, while being so limited in actions. Was it too much to ask to check regularily the tag? That's all we asked for. And we cannot run after you like little puppies, calling you by your names and asking "Can you please submit stuff now, pretty please."

The advice on checking the tag regularily was the only option we had, so you could read everything that was posted in it. Any update we had was posted in there. And if there still were questions you could have asked us privately or via. the ask tool. We just wanted to let you guys doing stuff. But please... why are you blaming us (more or less) for people simply forgetting it? There could have been ways where it would have been possible to get the updates. Like... adding yourself a reminder once a month, checking the tag out if you have missed something (I am just doodling ideas because that would have been me if I wasn't the co-leader of this project. It's not calling you out and telling you what to do and what not.)

You all are old enough to be in charge of doing something.

But we can just say...

We are sad. Very sad.

Because our project might be not come to live. Perhaps not for these upcoming rituals at least.

How on earth is it possible that after setting things straight, people tend to submit things?

As I said... if you didn't hear about the project first, if you simply forgot about it, if you were busy... that's fine.

But stop asking us why it was the case.

It is making us angry and upset.

We wish we could tell you why it was and still is the case.

But we can't. We have to accept it.

However...

Thank you to everyone so far, who has participated so far, we are eternally grateful that you want to share your stuff and maybe also intimate/personal words with us.

Your words for Vessel are gently appreciated and your kind soul will be blessed.

Thank you for reading this.

– Lia (and Crow @aquareegia )

#sleep token #sleep token band #thelovevesselneedsbook #i am tired of this now

16 notes · View notes

agent-cupcake · 6 months

Text

Flashbang

Chapter 9 Part 1- August Moon

Spotify Playlist / All Chapters / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 /Chapter 7/ Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 pt.1 / Chapter 9 pt.2 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12

Pairing: One Piece Live Action Buggy x f! Reader

Synopsis: Waking up in yet another unfortunate circumstance, your mind strays to thinking of things you would rather forget.

Warnings: Explicit smut, child abuse

Word Count: 8.6k

Notes: This chapter started to get really long really quickly. Rather than postponing again and posting a 20k+ word chapter, there will be a part two. It’s a different format than other chapters, but the show did flashback arcs so why can't I?

“August Moon, laid just for you, steady, ready, smile like his, until it's out of sight. Don't undo the true chance that chooses you Face to face with a new day So simple it seemed, you dare to dream impossibly, risking its rarity of ‘I'll do it now' Black and blissful, tumbling, I wake, I sleep, it feeds me Fate may rule you and heart it fools you to lose your sanity”

It wasn’t the simple process of recalling how you ended up bound on the floor in the dark, or even trying to figure out how to escape the confinement. It was a million memories dancing through your head all at once, an entire lifetime fogged up with anesthetic playing out in your aching head.

All it took was a little doubt, right? A little confusion. And then you weren’t you, a person who had lived and failed and tried and been hurt over and over. A woman who had done unspeakable things and made unfathomable choices. You were her. A girl too small for her age, a girl whose bones poked out from her pallid skin. Her cheeks weren’t round and rosy, they were hollow and gaunt. She stared solemnly with eyes that seemed too large for her face, as glassy as those of a doll. In stark contrast to the finery of her nursery, she wore dirty pajamas and had unwashed hair.

That was you. From a life you didn’t want to remember, filled with so many things you couldn’t forget.

You remembered how cold it always was when Dad was gone. You remembered the feeling of hunger gnawing at your stomach. You were too young to know how to feed yourself or get warmer clothes, you only understood that your tummy hurt and you couldn’t stop shivering and that Mom didn’t want you to leave your room. You remembered sitting on your floor with your doll, quietly playing by yourself. Her name was Peach. She was your sister and your best friend.

More anything else, more than the fear or the sadness or the longing or the pain, you remembered Mom’s voice. She was singing and you could remember that song so clearly that you dreamed of it years and years and years later. Her melancholic melody floated down the dark, cold hall. The house had been silent since Dad left on a trip. He was a doctor, which meant he had to take care of people. Mom hadn’t been feeling well. She called it morning sickness, even though she seemed to get even sicker at night. She threw up a lot, and she said her head and back hurt. She said she needed to rest, which was why you weren’t allowed to leave your room unless she said.

But now she was singing.

Thinking about it for a moment, you put your doll Peach into her bed to be comfortable and safe while you were gone, pulling the little blankets up around her chin so she didn’t get cold. The house was always so cold. You left your room, your sock-covered feet making no noise on the wood floors. Mom’s voice was every bit as beautiful as she was, even when it was haunting and sad.

When you peeked around the doorway into the room she and Dad shared, you saw her sitting on the window bench, watching the lifeless gray sky. She was covered in something dark and wet, like she had spilled a drink. It puddled in her lap and coated her hands, dried on the edges but saturated so heavily in the middle that it still glistened like wet ink. You watched as tears slid down the side of her face, dripping from her chin. They kept falling, even as she sang.

“Momma?” you asked softly, suddenly uneasy. “Momma, what happened?”

She stopped singing, looking towards you with hazy eyes. Her face was drained of all color, her cheeks gaunt and hair a mess of flyaways. She held out her hand for you. Whatever was on her lap had dried on her skin, flaking off like rust from her fingers.

Blood. It was blood, you could smell it now. The vile metallic tang nearly choked you.

“Momma, you’re hurt,” you said, crossing the room and taking her hand without a second thought. Dried blood smeared over your hand. Her skin was ice cold.

Her pale lips parted to say something, her chest swelling with a breath, but nothing came out. She just looked confused, her brow pinching and fresh tears forming in her eyes.

“Mommy, you’re bleeding,” you insisted, feeling very cold inside. Dad wasn’t home, and you didn’t know who else could help.

“Why was it you?” she asked, looking lost. “A girl. A daughter. Why are you the only one to make it? If you were a son—if I had a son…” She put her other hand on her stomach. “It was a son, I know it was.”

“Momma?”

She blinked, her eyes focusing as if only just noticing you. Quick, like you had burned her, she dropped your hand.

“Draw me a bath,” she said, a sharpness you recognized very well returning to her voice. “I am fine, this is… Fine. Don’t tell your father about this.”

“Yes, mommy.”

There were many things Mom didn’t want dad to know, things about her. Later in life, she told you to hide things about you from him. But that came later.

From back then, you could remember very clearly that Mom and dad fought a lot. Sometimes it seemed like all they did was fight, and then Dad would leave on a ship, and then it was just you and Mom. When he got home, things would be fine at first, but that peace never lasted very long.

You could hear them in the den. It was a fight that had been brewing for a while. Mom was shouting in a shrill tone, but Dad only ever talked quietly. His voice came out in a low rumble that demanded absolute attention, like rolling thunder. Just as fearsome too.

You wanted to go upstairs, but that would mean going through the den and you didn’t dare interrupt them. Instead, you held Peach tight in your arms and covered your ears to block out their voices and waited for the storm to pass.

She shouted. He spoke. There was thumping. Mom screamed twice. And then a heavy silence fell upon the house. The clock seemed to tick even louder in the absence of their voices.

Did that mean it was over with? You crawled out of your hiding place, softly walking down the hall until you got to the arch leading into the den. Light from the crackling fire within illuminated a little halo into the hall, but there was no warmth to the orange glow.

Hardly daring to breathe, you peeked inside. Mom laid in a broken heap on the floor. She was bleeding. It gushed out of her nose, pooling on the hardwood. Her eye was already swelling and she cradled her stomach. Her shoulders shivered with little hitching sobs.

You didn’t see Dad anywhere, so you tentatively entered, walking as softly as you could.

“Mommy?” you asked, approaching her slowly.

Dad said your name from the stairs, making you jump. Mom whimpered.

“Leave your mother alone,” he told you as he came down. “It’s time for bed.”

“But mommy—”

“Now,” he said, his eyes narrowing.

You knew better than to argue with him when he used that tone of voice. You looked back at Mom, feeling sick. She was in pain, you knew she was. But Dad would help her, wouldn’t he? He was a doctor.

“Goodnight mommy,” you said, petting her head. “I love you.”

Her only response was a weak sob.

“Didn’t you hear that, birdie?” Dad said. “Your daughter said goodnight.”

Mom let out a shaky breath, looking up at you. “Goodnight, baby.”

“Okay, come on, sweet girl,” Dad said. “It’s late.”

Nervously, you crossed the room to the stairs where Dad stood. He didn’t look upset anymore, you could almost believe that nothing bad had happened. When you started to pass him, he held out an arm to stop you.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he asked.

You looked up at him, confused and anxious.

“I think I deserve a goodnight kiss from my sweet little girl,” he clarified warmly, leaning down to scoop you up into his arms. You stiffened up, squeezing Peach to your chest.

“Goodnight, daddy,” you said, kissing his cheek. He smiled, brushing your hair behind your ear.

“Don’t you worry. Things are going to be better from now on,” he told you. “Right, birdie?”

“Yes,” Mom answered, her voice pained.

Dad let out a heavy breath, nodding. “I hate that it has to be like this, but it’s for the best. I’ve been too easy on you girls for too long, and it’s my responsibility to take care of it.” He closed his eyes for a second, pressing his face against your neck. You held your breath.

“My sweet little girl,” he said, pulling back. “I love you. You know that, don’t you? I love you both.”

“I love you too, daddy.”

He kissed your forehead before setting you down, ruffling your hair.

“Alright, mommy and I have to talk. You better be in bed by the time we’re done, okay? I’ll check.”

“Yes, daddy,” you said.

As soon as his attention was off of you, you went up the stairs. You remembered being too small to take them properly, it was more of a climb than anything. A tiring climb. And then it was down the cold hall into your room, and straight onto your bed. You pulled the blanket up to cover both you and Peach and held the pillow around your ears to shield them.

You remembered many nights just like that, huddled with your doll in the stifled dark, waiting to fall asleep because it was the only escape you had.

28 Days Earlier

It was your own upset whine that woke you up to something approximating consciousness, and then you became aware of several things in quick succession. You were in Buggy’s bed, cradled in his arms with your back against his chest, you were both naked, he was touching you, and what was most probably his erection was pressing against your thighs. You squirmed, confused, catching a glimpse of his nose and smile when you twisted your head around, before pressing your face back into the pillow with a soft groan.

Your head hurt. Actually, several things hurt. It took you a few seconds to grasp what was real. Last night, going to the Maison Rouge, getting drunk, the bathroom, having dinner, getting carried back onto the ship, and then everything else.

At least that explained your headache.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Buggy said cheerfully. Fitting that the one morning you wanted to sleep he would be awake and in good spirits.

Your only response was a harsh gasp when he rolled your nipple between his thumb and forefinger just a little too hard.

“You are awake right?” he asked.

“Mmmhmm,” you agreed.

“Good. I didn’t want to stick it in while you were still snoozin’.”

You made a confused sound. Most of your functional brain was focused on the way he was touching you, one hand holding you against him while the other shamelessly groped your chest.

“Cap’mm Buggy, what’re you-”

“Don’t get all weird about it,” he said, releasing you to sit up. Blinking groggily, you rolled onto your back to watch him grab a bottle he’d wedged between the other pillows. His makeup was all faded and smeared because you hadn’t taken it off last night, the sparkles dusting down his cheeks. “I’m gonna be gentle.”

“Oil?” you asked, confused as he uncapped it with his teeth and poured some onto his palm.

“Yeah, you were fuckin’ soaking last night, you’re probably all tapped out,” he said with a smile, clarifying some things by tossing off the blanket to stroke his cock, coating it in oil. This was a dream, it had to be. Buggy looked at you, his smile exchanged for a look of impatience. “You’re welcome.”

“Thank you,” you said automatically, although you still felt like this had to be a dream.

Buggy rolled his eyes, stroking his cock one more time for good measure. “Quit gawkin’ and lay down.”

You laid back down, too sleepy to argue. Not that you would. Surprising you somewhat, Buggy laid down too, rolling you onto your side so you were spooning again.

You tried to twist around, confused about what he wanted. You thought you understood, but this was different. New.

“Lift your leg up,” Buggy told you. After a second of trying to understand what he meant, you did and he pulled you down enough for him to get his cock between your legs.

Oh.

Your breathing immediately picked up. Excitement? Nerves? You couldn’t tell the difference clearly enough to know. You didn’t fight him, your fingers digging into the sheets as he ran the slick head through your folds back and forth until it caught. The feeling made you shudder, your stomach flipping.

“See?” Buggy teased. “You loooove this.”

“Don’t we,” you began to say, speaking more because you felt like you needed to say something than because you meant it, “don’t we need to get up and… um…”

“And what?”

You tried to string together a coherent response, but it got lost as Buggy began to push into you, your argument disintegrating around his cock. The oil made it so smooth, he barely had to work it in, just pushing and pushing until you were full.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he said, his voice smug even though it was strained and hoarse.

If you were going to object in the first place, all of your thoughts disappeared when he moaned right into your ear. The sound was almost as potent as the feeling of him inside of you, you couldn’t help but tighten up around him, letting out a little whimper. Buggy laughed, rolling his hips lazily.

“We’re on vacation, babydoll. Just relax.”

When you and Buggy finally got out of bed, it was later than was at all reasonable and you were already worn out. Conversely, Buggy seemed to be full of energy. You got a look at yourself in the mirror, shocked and a little disgusted by the sight. There was only so much that could be done to salvage your appearance. Your hair seemed unable to take any other shape than an utterly disastrous nest, and the smears of makeup didn’t respond to water no matter how hard you scrubbed. Your bandana was on the other ship too. Since you were out a pair of very nice panties and the only clothes you had was last night’s red dress, you borrowed a loose linen shirt of his.

It did absolutely nothing to cover the worst of the damage—the bright red marks covering your neck from ear to collarbones. Some were very clearly bite marks with indents of teeth, others were less distinct splotches of red, and a few were just bruises.

“Sheesh, you look wrecked,” Buggy said, which was a little unfair. His makeup was smeared and he needed a shave and to tame the wild blue mess of his hair, but he didn’t look sickly the way you did. There was a brightness to his eyes, an energy you didn’t think you ever had.

“‘s not that bad,” you said, covering your neck with your hair.

“Come here, let me get a better look,” he said, dropping into his chair. You obeyed with halting steps, coming to a stop where you were more or less at eye level. Buggy didn’t look into your eye though, prying your hands from your neck and pushing your hair back to appreciate the work he’d done. “Some of my finest work, if I do say so myself.”

You couldn’t look at his face, staring off to the side. You didn’t want to think about what you did last night, the things you said and did and agreed to. You are mine.

How embarrassing.

Your reaction made Buggy frown. “What’s that look for?” he asked. “You said I could do anything I wanted.”

“‘s embarrassing,” you muttered. “But that… It’s fine, really. Do you want me to-” You gestured to your chin and neck.

Buggy ran a hand over his face, sighing. “Fine,” he said. “Makeup first, though. Somebody forgot to take care of that last night.”

You frowned because that wasn’t your fault which made him laugh, his mood smoothed over just like that.

Taking off his makeup was a very familiar process by now, as was preparing everything to shave his facial hair. You wished that the fulfillment of whatever twisted desires you had would have cured you of your preoccupation with Buggy’s face and neck, yet you found yourself as interested as ever. At the very least, you got through it without incident before wiping the remaining shaving cream off and applying the aftershave, appreciating his smooth skin. Maybe that was selfish.

“I just realized,” you said as you were cleaning the blade before returning the razor to its case. “I can’t cut you, can I? Because of your… your thing.”

“My thing?” he repeated, holding up a mirror to see if you had done a good enough job.

“Your Devil Fruit… thing,” you clarified.

“You just realized that?” Buggy asked. You couldn’t tell if his tone was amused or derisive. Both, probably.

“I thought the reason you didn’t let me at first is because you thought I would cut you,” you explained, turning around to put everything away. “Because you didn’t trust me.”

“Yeah, I didn’t trust that you wouldn’t do a shitty job.”

“I don’t think people would notice either way,” you said. “They’ll be too distracted by-”

“By what?” Buggy asked sharply.

“Your cheekbones and jaw,” you said, hoping it sounded like a normal complement and not creepy. “You know? They’re pretty enough that I don’t think a bit of hair or anything would matter.”

“You were going to say they’d be too distracted by my nose, weren’t you,” he accused. You looked over your shoulder at him, surprised to see his simmering rage.

“I wasn’t,” you told him, frowning. “You don’t even have hair there, it wouldn’t make sense.”

“What you said doesn’t make any sense either.”

“I, um,” you stammered, confused. “That’s not what I mean, sir. I swear.”

“Whatever,” Buggy said, standing up and going into the bathroom. You couldn’t tell how seriously he was upset by the perceived slight. Sometimes Buggy got really angry, but sometimes he seemed to forget it as soon as it happened.

While he was gone, you finished cleaning up the shaving supplies before stripping the bedding. By the time he emerged, you still hadn’t decided if you were meant to apologize or not.

“Do you want me to go get breakfast?” you asked, fidgeting awkwardly.

“Ew, no,” Buggy said, wincing as he tied a kerchief around his hair. “Never eat ship food if you can avoid it.”

“Then… Can I stay here with you?” you asked.

He grabbed his makeup case and sat back in his chair. “I doubt anyone else wants you.”

You sat on the end of his bed. The morning activities really had worn you out in a way they didn’t seem to for him, and you felt a little gross to be sitting there covered in a film of sexual grime, but it was better than being alone. Much, much better.

“How long will we stay in Lafitte, Captain Buggy?” you asked, looking out the window. It was another lovely day.

“Until I say we’re leaving,” he answered, focused on his makeup. He was very good at it, painting on the shapes quickly and efficiently. You felt warm while watching him, like you could relax because you weren’t alone, because he wanted you by him.

“It’s creepy when you stare at me like that,” Buggy said, bringing your musings to an abrupt halt.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you said.

He smirked, adding the finishing touches to the blue around his eyes before powdering it like Pippa had with your makeup.

“Okay, new rules!” Buggy declared when he was done, standing up. “You,” he pointed at you, “do not leave the ship without me. You don't talk to anybody that’s not me. Really, just, only do what I tell you to do. Daddy dearest doesn’t have any proof that we’ve got you yet and I’d like to keep it that way. You’re gonna lay low, keep your head down, and not do anything stupid. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” you said, nodding, your stomach tied in knots at the reminder.

You helped Buggy get dressed, but your mind was preoccupied with thoughts of your dad. He wouldn’t be thrown off that easily, not from getting you back and not from pirates. You weren’t sure why you managed to convince yourself he would be.

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?” Buggy asked with something like bitterness in his voice. “The Surgeon.”

“I guess.”

“Well don’t. I won’t let that crusty bastard take you back,” Buggy told you, rolling his eyes. “That’d be such a waste, I’ve got your pussy all broken in and everything.”

Your face scrunched in disgust while Buggy laughed, ruffling your messy hair to make it messier. You wanted to give him a hug before he left, but you couldn’t think of a way to make that seem appropriate.

“I’ll bring you back something nice to eat, okay, babydoll?”

“Will you be gone very long?” you asked, hoping you didn’t sound desperate and knowing you did.

“I’ll be back before you know it. If you’re good and you get all your chores done, I’ll get blondie to dress you up so we can go out.”

Once Buggy left, you went to the berth to find a high necked sweater to cover the marks on your neck and get cleaned up. Although it had only been two days and you hadn’t even been on this ship very long in the first place, you had the sensation of being home. Or, being someplace more homey. Whatever your feelings, it was better.

Although it was late for it, people were still hanging around getting a cold breakfast. You wouldn’t have thought so many people would stick around but, apparently, it was payday. Everybody got a split of what had been plundered from the Dolce and those involved got more for the other ship.

Mohji handed out the money while Richie watched everybody’s bowls very sharply. You didn’t expect anything, Captain Buggy hadn’t really mentioned payment, but you still got a cut. It was strange to get money from a man who had only recently seen you locked up in the brig and called you hostage, but in the absence of the Chief of Staff, it was up to Mohji.

“You look shocked,” Marty said as everybody dispersed. “He didn’t short you, did he?”

“No, nothing like that. It’s just… I’ve never had this much money,” you admitted. “What am I supposed to do with it?”

“You’re a pirate,” he said. “You go out and blow it all on booze and hookers.”

“Captain Buggy said I’m not allowed to leave the ship. Also I…” You frowned. “I don’t think I’d do that anyway. Is that what you do?”

“Before you think too harshly of me, girly,” Marty said. “Don’cha think it’s better to pay a girl who’s clean than to catch something?”

You nodded like you understood. “That’s true. And I would never, ever judge you,” you told him.

Marty smiled, shaking his head in amusement.

“By the way, do you, um, do you know where Mr. Cabaji is?”

“Captain Buggy sent him off on some mission,” Marty said.

“Oh, that’s good then,” you said, more relieved than you should have been. Cabaji was smart and strong and capable, and if something happened to him somebody would have mentioned it.

It looked like Marty was going to ask you something, but he was cut off by a familiar voice. “Did Mr. Mohji pay you?” Pippa asked, making you jump. She had approached from your left blindspot, and you hadn’t been paying enough attention to check.

“He did. I was just advising her on how best to spend it,” Marty told Pippa.

“We’re going shopping, obviously,” she said.

You frowned. “Captain Buggy said I’m not allowed to leave the ship without him.”

“You can’t keep wearing my hand-me-downs. He must know that. If he doesn’t trust me, then Marty will come along to keep us safe.”

“He will?” Marty asked.

“If it’s for a good cause,” Pippa said, smiling and batting her eyelashes at him. He clearly wasn’t charmed by her, rolling his eyes.

“Maybe another day,” you told her. “I’ll ask him later.”

She sighed. “Fine. There are things I need to get while we’re here anyway.”

“Do you wanna go get something to eat first?” Marty asked. “I can’t stomach any more salted meat.”

“It’s too early to start drinking,” Pippa said.

“Start?” Marty asked, pulling a flask out of his pocket. She rolled her eyes.

“I’ll see you two later then?” you said.

“Shame you can’t come along. Sorry, girly.”

“It’s okay,” you said, smiling reassuringly. “I’m fine here.”

Neither looked like they entirely believed you, but nobody would argue with rules Captain Buggy set out. That was, if nothing else, the strongest unifier among the crew.

They left, and you focused your attention on getting your chores done. First, however, you stopped by the clinic, but Crina wasn’t there.

Without anything else to keep you occupied, you tidied up Captain Buggy’s cabin. In your absence, he had made a mess of it. Even though you were not in an entirely different position than you had been yesterday, you felt peaceful while cleaning. Now that you had a taste of his absence, you knew how dire it was that you did whatever you could to stay with him.

You weren’t sure how you were going to do that, but you were going to figure it out, and you were going to be very, very good at it.

The way you were tied up was simple. Hands secured behind your back with plain rope, and your ankles bound in the same way. Your head ached painfully, swimming in the thick fog. A drug? It felt like it. That was the only thing that could separate you from reality so thoroughly.

You remembered the first time you were ever knocked out with a general anesthetic. It was because you broke your arm, but it didn’t heal right because you weren’t strong enough. Your parents told everyone you broke it because you tripped, but you remembered what happened. You wished you didn’t. You wished you remembered running and falling, that would be so much better.

But that wasn’t what happened.

Miss Frizzy was the children’s teacher. Barley was too small to need more than a few teachers, and everybody had to learn together with different books. Dad said it was different in places with more people. You wondered if that would be nice, but you liked Miss Frizzy. She had long, dark hair that was very straight and sleek. She was young like Mom, and very pretty like Mom. You liked that she was nice, and that she smelled like vanilla, and that she gave you lunch when Mom forgot to pack yours. Sometimes, in the most secret place of your brain that you would never tell to anybody ever, you wished that Miss Frizzy was your mom.

School was over, but you had to stay because Miss Frizzy asked your mom to come into the classroom. Since it was an adult conversation, they set you outside the room in the hallway to wait. They thought you didn’t hear them, but you did. Miss Frizzy gave you a book of hidden object pictures, but you had no desire to find quilted stars or a rocking horse. You sat Peach in your lap so she could look at the pictures while you listened to the adult conversation.

“I am… concerned about your daughter,” Miss Frizzy said.

“What did she do?” Mom asked sharply in her ‘be careful’ voice, the scary one that let you know she was getting upset, the one that made your spine tingle.

“She didn’t do anything. I just wanted to discuss her social development. I’ve noticed a few things that are a little worrisome.”

“Like what?”

“She’s around the age that we’d expect to see more verbal communication. The difficulty with kids her age is usually trying to get them to stop telling you what they’re thinking or feeling, but she’s the opposite.”

“I’m sorry, are you telling me there’s something wrong with my daughter because she’s better behaved than other children?”

“No, I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with her. I wanted to ask for your opinion on what I might do to make her more comfortable—what is her behavior like at home?”

“That’s not your business.”

“It’s just that, with kids like her, it’s important to encourage confidence and self expression.”

“She’s not well, you know that, don’t you?” Mom said. “That’s why she’s shy. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“No, there’s not. But I would like to help her socialize, especially with the kids in her class. This is a very important time for social development.”

“Well what am I supposed to do?”

There was a beat of silence before Miss Frizzy spoke. “Social behaviors are learned,” she finally said, “I worry she’s not in an environment that makes her feel comfortable or safe to express herself.”

“Safe?” Mom demanded, her voice raising. “What is that supposed mean? You think she’s afraid to express herself because of me? It is not your business to tell me how to raise my daughter. And you know what? You ought to be careful if you’re going to be making these sorts of insinuations. You know who my husband is.”

“I’m not insinuating anything,” Miss Frizzy said.

“I am her mother. I know what’s best for her.”

It was quiet for a moment. A very long moment. “I’m worried that’s not entirely the case,” Miss Frizzy said softly.

“You should be ashamed of yourself, Ilse Frisby,” Mom said, her voice mean and sharp like a knife.

Miss Frizzy tried to say more, but Mom emerged from the office.

“We’re leaving,” she told you with the type of look that you knew better than to argue against. You stood up immediately with Peach tucked beneath your arm, accidentally dropping the book. Rather than waiting for you to pick it up, she grabbed your bicep. Too tight. You winced, scrambling along to keep up with her as she dragged you out of the school building.

When you were out of sight, Mom rounded on you, her expression dark. “What did you say to her?”

“Nothing, momma,” you said, out of breath from having to walk so fast, your arm aching from the way she’d been dragging you.

“You said something to her, I know you did. You told her I’m a bad mother, didn’t you?”

“No, momma, no, no,” you denied, shaking your head and fighting your tears. You didn’t want to cry, but you couldn’t help the reaction in the face of her rage. You didn’t exactly understand the adult conversation, but you understood it had upset Mom. Really, really upset her. You squeezed Peach against your chest for comfort.

“You did, you had to have said something. You’re such an ungrateful brat. Do you have any idea how much I sacrifice for you? For you. And then you go to that-that woman and you tell her that I’m a bad mother? You owe me everything, and instead you just…”

Tears finally welled up in your eyes, you couldn’t fight them anymore.

“Oh, you’re gonna cry now?” Mom demanded. “Fine, go tell that woman how bad of a mother I am, go cry to her and tell her lies about our family.”

“No,” you said, your voice getting all stopped up in your swollen throat. “No, I’m sorry, momma, I’m sorry.”

“No, go. Go tell her all about what a terrible mother I am!” She used her grip on your arm to push you back towards the school building. Peach dropped first, falling into the dirt, and you felt something give out and there was a terrible crunching cracking noise and then you fell onto the ground too, scraping your knees across the dirt and rocks. Blood roared in your ears and you stopped crying because the pain punched everything out of you. It screamed up from your arm, but you couldn’t make a sound.

Tears and snot dripped from your face and darkened little spots in the dirt and you couldn’t breathe and mom was talking more but you couldn’t hear her. She dropped onto the ground beside you and looked at your arm. It looked wrong. It hurt so much you felt sick.

“Oh, my baby, no, no no no,” she cooed, gently pulling you against her, her voice so soft. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. You know that, don’t you? I didn’t mean it. I’m so sorry, baby. I love you, I love you so—”

Your arm had to be set and put in a plaster. The surgery and anesthetic came later.

“Your mother loves you,” Dad told you that night. “She loves you very much. You know she didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You nodded, holding Peach even tighter with your good arm. When you dropped her earlier, she broke. There was a faint fissure going down her face, right over her pretty glass eye. That hurt almost as bad as your arm.

“She worries about you,” Dad said. “We both do. What you did is not alright. You do not tell people about what happens at home. That is not appropriate. Do you understand?”

You didn’t think you had, but why else would Miss Frizzy say those things? Why else would Mom get so upset? You made a mistake, and there was only one answer. “Yes, daddy,” you said softly.

Those words made you feel hollow inside. The last time you said them was when you were trying to convince him to stay because even if you were miserable, you weren’t sure if you wanted to leave him.

Yes, daddy.

In a twisted way, that memory wrapped right back around to your first time with Buggy. Most of your life you thought you would probably die a virgin. Sex was dirty, and gross, and made you feel bad about yourself. How old were you when you came to that conclusion? Nine? Ten? You remembered the girl who told you. Her name was Harper.

Harper’s family lived on a small dairy farm on the edge of town. In a town full of fishermen, you thought cows were cooler, but Harper said it wasn’t much different at all. Just like them, she had to wake up long before dawn and work for hours before coming to school. The only difference was that she smelled like the barn while the boys who worked on the boats smelled like fish.

She was the only one in your school around the same age as you. Around the same age. Harper was six months older. Months that grew longer when you factored in the height difference, which seemed to get more substantial every week. She used those months and inches as the primary reason for why you had to listen to her and do what she told you to do. Mainly that included letting her take your toys, colored pencils, and hair ribbons and only playing games that she liked. It also meant, probably on account of those six months of extra experience, that Harper knew a lot of grown-up things that you didn’t.

An overcast sky loomed above, a sharp wind churning up the smell of brine and salty sea air below. You and Harper lived in the same direction from the school, so you would walk together to the big fork in the road. Then you went up the hill and she went around. Both of you were sniffling and bundled up tightly. Made worse by the wind, the cold got under your coat and nestled there, an inescapable chill.

“We should make a get well soon card for Dawn,” you said. You had heard that afternoon that she would be out of school for a few months, she’d come down with something bad. You knew all about that.

Harper snorted out a laugh. “Dawn isn’t sick.”

You looked at her, frowning. “What do you mean?”

Harper looked at you with an expression you knew well. A mixture of pity and superiority, like you were stupid, or at the very least woefully naive. “She’s pregnant.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “That’s not true.”

“It is,” Harper insisted testily. “My sister told me. She said that Dawn’s a slut. She’ll do it with any handsome sailor so now she’s pregnant.”

“Oh,” you said.

Harper smiled. “You know what that means, don’t you?”

You mulled that over, trying to divine her meaning from words alone. Slut was bad, you knew that much at least. But the rest, you weren’t so sure. Harper obviously wanted you to ask her. She liked doing that. You always felt so stupid not knowing all of the grown-up things that she did.

“I guess not,” you finally allowed.

“She had sex. That’s how babies are made,” Harper said imperiously, like she was teaching you a very important lesson. “That’s where they both get naked and a man puts his penis in the lady’s down-there parts. Boys have different bits, they stick out. It’s like this-” She held up her hand in the shape of a circle, slowly putting her finger through it to demonstrate. “And then the girl gets pregnant.”

Your face screwed up with disgust. “No way.”

“Yes way. That’s how you were made,” Harper said crossly. “Your mom and dad had sex and then you were born. And that’s what Dawn did.”

“How do you know that?” you asked her, still reluctant to believe something so gross and taboo.

“My mom told me in case a creepy pervert tries to touch my privates or chest. I’m starting to get breasts, you know. I’ll need to wear a bra soon, and that’s when boys want to have sex.”

Harper said that a lot, talking about how she would need a bra soon, but you didn’t think her chest looked any different. You didn’t tell her that though, because then she said you were jealous because she was taller and looked older than you did. You weren’t jealous. If having a bra made boys pay attention to you, you’d rather not. And the whole idea of sex just seemed gross. Probably Harper was lying, she did that sometimes. And if she wasn’t, that was worse.

But you didn’t say any of that, you just agreed, and then you told her goodbye at the big fork and made your way up the hill thinking about lots of icky, uncomfortable things you would really rather not.

24 Days Earlier

For you, clothes had always been somewhat of an afterthought. It wasn’t a matter of money. Dad didn’t like to see you wearing anything especially ostentatious or too flattering, he said that it would attract attention and make you look cheap. That, combined with your propensity to get cold, meant that you wore a lot of the shapeless sweaters Pippa hated so much.

Not anymore.

After a shockingly quick run through of the first shop, Pippa sent you into the changing room with several outfits at the ready. You were still reeling from the newness of it all. Without her, you never would have been able to pick out anything, there were far too many options.

Taking in a deep breath, you started with a white buttoned shirt. It had a sweetheart neckline and long, frilly sleeves. It was paired with a pair of pinstriped bloomer shorts, the kind that were meant to be seen rather than hidden beneath a skirt. Unlike everything you had worn previously—except for the red dress—both items were fit for your size. It was a lovely outfit. And then you looked in the mirror, remembering your problem.

“Pippa, I can’t wear this shirt right now,” you said doubtfully.

“What are you talking about?” Pippa asked, opening the curtain. You immediately covered your neck. She looked you up and down, her eyes relentlessly critical. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing,” you said. “Just…” When you didn’t elaborate, trying to think of a way to explain the problem, she grabbed your wrist to pull your hand from your neck, revealing the marks littering your skin. The ones from the other night had only just begun to fade, and Buggy had decided to add more that morning “So you don’t forget.”

Whatever that was supposed to mean.

“Was he trying to eat you?” Pippa asked, her tone so matter-of-fact you almost weren’t sure if she was joking or not.

“I…” You huffed, shaking your head. “Did you get anything with a high neckline?”

“I doubt Captain Buggy wants you to cover them up.”

“How do you know that?” you asked doubtfully.

“That’s how men are.” She shook her head, a little amused. “Marking their territory. He doesn’t want anybody else trying to play with his toy.”

You frowned. “Don’t say it like that.”

“You don’t need to be embarrassed, I’m not judging you for getting in with the captain. If I thought I could get away with it, maybe I’d try the same thing.”

“With Captain Buggy?” you asked sharply, your voice raised with the higher bend of defensive jealousy.

“Relax,” Pippa said, looking a little surprised by your reaction. “He’s clearly got a type, and he’s certainly not mine.”

“Sorry, that’s not what I…” You fumbled on the apology, unsure of what you were apologizing for exactly. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re getting that outfit, try on the black skirt with suspenders next,” Pippa told you, unruffled, “it should go with that shirt.”

She left the changing booth, closing the curtain. You couldn’t stifle your embarrassment about your reaction, and then thinking about the other night, caught on the worry that you may have embarrassed yourself even worse while drunk. What worried you, more than anything, was her motivation for helping you so much. Did it really make sense that she would like you when you behaved like that?

You thought about that as you rifled through the hangers, finding the aforementioned skirt fairly quickly. It was one of the few black pieces among lots of white and red.

“Pippa,” you asked while you got out of the pinstripe shorts, relying on the safety of hiding behind the curtain to muster the courage to ask. “Are we friends?”

“What?” she called.

“Are we friends?” you asked again, more insistent. The skirt was shorter than you expected, you would have to wear something underneath it otherwise your panties definitely would show. “You’re not just doing this because Captain Buggy and I are… you know.”

“Oh, that,” Pippa said. “I won’t lie, that’s why I helped you at first, but now… I like you. It’s hard to find somebody who’s willing to let me dress them up, especially someone like you. I could never get away with wearing clothes like this.”

You emerged from behind the curtain, awkwardly tugging on the hem of the skirt. Luckily, there weren’t many people in the store to see your bite-covered neck.

“See? You look adorable. I can’t pull off the cutesy style,” Pippa said with no small amount of wistfulness. “You can wear those lacy bloomers I gave you under that. You’ll need stockings too.”

“You really don’t think it’s too short?” you asked.

She gave you a flat look. “Do you know the luxury of being short?”

“I don’t think there are any.”

“If you wear that skirt, nobody’s gonna be even a little scandalized. If I wore something that short, it would be a problem. Enjoy it.”

You weren’t sure that was true, but it was a cute outfit.

The other things you tried on weren’t as successful, but Pippa said that was fine. As soon as you paid, she was dragging you into another shop. Things proceeded in pretty much the same way. While you were busy eying up a dress to decide if you liked it or not, Pippa was compiling an armful of clothes for you to try before shuffling you into the changing room.

“There’s a few plain cotton dresses, you can pair them with the corset tops or sweaters. Try those first, it’ll be good to have a few on hand,”

You picked through the hangers, looking for white cotton but finding a mass of white tulle and shiny sateen. You pulled it out, realizing that it was a dress. The skirts and sleeves were absurdly voluminous.

“What’s this white dress?” you asked.

“That’s yours. For the show,” Pippa said. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“It is,” you agreed, although your hesitance was plain. “You said it’s for me?”

“Yep.”

“You don’t think… I mean, if I wear this, I’ll look like a kid, don’t you think?”

“I think,” she said, “you’ll look like a doll. You don’t have to try it on right now, I’ll need to alter it anyway. Just try those cotton dresses.”

“Oh yeah, right,” you said, trying very hard to not think about why she bought you a dress for the show.

After that, you visited a few other boutiques, ending the spree with a trip to a store that only sold underwear. As embarrassing as you found that one, it was necessary. Pippa said you had to ‘maximize your assets.’ What that really meant was wearing bras that had padding in them. Although they weren’t comfortable, you were a little excited about it. Now more than ever you were aware of how deficient you were.

It was late afternoon as the two of you made your way back to the ship. Shopping was oddly exhausting, as was carrying all the bags.

The question occurred to you while you were shopping for underwear, and now it burned on your tongue. You knew you needed to do it. You had to ask, the only other person you could think to ask was Crina but you got the feeling she wouldn’t react as well. And Pippa said she was your friend.

“Pippa… Can I ask you something and you never tell anybody ever?”

“Is it about sex?” she asked absently.

You flushed hot, all the way to your ears. “Yes.”

“Go ahead.”

“I know what a, um, a blowjob is, but I don’t know… how.”

“What are you asking me?” she asked, her eyes flicking towards you for a moment.

“I was wondering if you did, and if you could… I don’t know, do you have any advice or anything?” Hearing your own words made them a thousand times worse. You shook your head fast enough to make the twintails swish, grimacing. “Nevermind, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, it’s okay. I just had to make sure,” she told you. “You know how to give a handjob, right?”

You blinked, freezing up in the face of that question as you realized that maybe you misunderstood what was meant by that last time you used the term. “Um...”

“Stroking his cock with your hand,” she said.

“Oh! Oh, I guess.” You had definitely misunderstood what that term meant last time you used it.

“That, but you add your mouth. Lick, suck, bob your head on the end while you jerk him off. If you’re having trouble with getting the rhythm, ask him to help you out.”

You nodded, trying to commit that all to memory while avoiding combusting on the spot out of embarrassment. “Okay, and, um… I can’t fit it all the way in my mouth. When he tried to, I choked.”

“You’d want to practice suppressing your gag reflex,” she explained casually, unconcerned with the subject or the idea that people walking past could hear her. “Some people can do it, some can’t.”

“What if I can’t?”

“You’re overthinking this,” Pippa said. “If you seem like you’re having the time of your life worshiping his cock, it doesn’t matter how deep you can take it.”

“That sounds… really embarrassing,” you admitted, catching sight of Buggy’s ship. That was good, your arms were burning from carrying so many bags.

“It doesn’t have to be,” Pippa said. “Sex should be fun.”

“It is!” you said quickly, defensive. “I just… I’m so… I feel disgusting, you know? And I don’t know what to say or do during and then after it makes me want to, I don’t know…” You shook your head, trying to think of a good way to phrase it. “I wanna peel off my skin or something. Do you ever feel that way?”

“No,” Pippa said, looking at you with a frown.

“Oh, um, I mean…” You forced a laugh. “I think I’m just being silly, I’m sorry.”

Pippa nodded. Neither of you brought it up again.

“I’ve got a special move for taking people down,” Buggy said over dinner that night. He brought it back to the ship for you rather than letting you go into town again. You liked that better anyway, when it was just you and Buggy. “I won’t spoil anything, but by the time I’m done, the sorry sucker’s nothin’ but chunks on the road. I’ll show you one day, it’ll blow your mind.”

You thought about that for a moment, looking at your plate. “Does it, um, does it bother you at all?” you asked. “Killing people.”

“Why would it?” he asked out of the side of his mouth, talking through a big bite of fish.

“I… I don’t know. You’re taking away another person’s life. Everything they were, everything they could be, all of that is gone because—because of you.”

Buggy rolled his eyes. “Babydoll, it’s not that big a deal. If they die, it was their fault for being in my way.”

You nodded. “My dad used to say that he never killed anybody. He only killed pirates.”

“Funny, I’ve only killed idiots.”

As desperately as you wanted to be able to think like that, you weren’t sure you could ever excuse yourself in that way. You wished you could be strong like Buggy, that you could adopt such an easy point of view. If you could, you would be better.

“Okay,” Buggy said, dropping his fork onto his empty plate and leaning back to pick his teeth with his knife. “I’m ready for the show.”

“Show?” you asked.

“You went shopping today, didn’t you? As my little protégé, the way you look represents me. I gotta know you’re meeting certain standards.”

“It’s just like what Pippa was giving me before,” you said, oddly embarrassed by the idea of putting on clothes just to show Buggy, “but now everything fits.”

“Didja get new undies?”

Your lips twisted up in an embarrassed smile, a little giggle bubbling out of your mouth. Buggy had seen you in all states of undress, you weren’t sure how you could manage to still feel so shy.

“I mean,” he said, gesturing towards you with the blade of his knife, “it’s a real shame about what happened to the ones from the other night. You gotta be more careful, babydoll.”

You wanted to point out that it was his fault for ripping them because he wasn’t patient, but you had a feeling he’d just turn that around on you anyway.

“I did,” you said. “Get new stuff, I mean.”

“Great,” Buggy said, dropping his knife and clapping his hands together. “Let’s start with that.”

#opla buggy #opla buggy x reader #buggy x reader #one piece live action #buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #my writing #flashbang #not sfw #its been a bad week hopefully things will be better for next chapter

33 notes · View notes

ddollfface · 1 year

Text

For What Is a Poet Without a Muse?

Good poetry is written from ones' known feelings. The feelings we have yet to discover, yet to recognize, and yet to accept.

lovesick!poet x afab!reader

writing type--headcanons warnings; toxic codependency on the yandere's part. subtle mentions of eliminating killing people. mentions of yandere being depressed. honestly, this yandere is kinda sad... sfw. no nsfw. really tame tbh...

Let me know if I missed anything; please and thank you!!!

He lost all inspiration. Nothing worked. No matter how long he stared at the pretty scenery of the mountains; no matter how many sunsets he witnessed and basked in; no matter how many pretty women he came across, nothing worked. Nothing. He was desperate for something, anything, that would spur and turn his inquisitive, dark mind. He had lost all hope, well, that was until he met you. Pretty you. His neighbor.

"I knew it'd be you."

The moment your eyes met; it was like the world had stopped spinning, like it was just you two. Everything felt right. Just you and him.

You had just moved into this dingy apartment in the poorer part of town, desperate for some type of financial stability. You had just been fired from your job and kicked out of your rental due to overdue bills. Times were tough, and they were only getting worse. Everything was a mess--both your life and appearance. You looked like you were going through it.

Dark eyebags hung low under your droopy eyes. Your lashes fluttered constantly--trying to keep your tired eyes from falling into a long, well-needed, sleep. Your skin had lost its color; bleached and exhausted from overworking your body for so long. Your lips were dry and crusted--overused from working so many customer service jobs. Your hair a mess, whether your hair is curly or straight, it doesn't matter. Now, you couldn't even tell, it was all matted and frizzy--dying from lack of care. Completely forgotten and left to just permanently stay in a messy bun. You didn't have time to take care of yourself, causing your appearance to lack and fail.

But he didn't think so. No, not at all. He thought you looked beautiful, especially when you slept, no matter what condition your physical state was in, he thought you were the most dashing thing in this whole, bland universe. He didn't care that your skin was bleached and filled with acne. You looked so natural, so real. The prettiest thing he's ever seen. There was something about the way you carried yourself; you seemed to just not care anymore; just wanting to live another day.

He loves everything about you; from your matted hair to your mixmatched clothing. Your unmanicured nails, your unkept skin, and your dry lips--everything. He loved it all, but, there was one thing that he loved, admittingly, the most.

Your eyes.

I know, I know, it's a classic, sappy, love story type thing to say, but it's true. He could stare at them for hours, and he does. He loves your eyes, they're so expressive. They say things that you would never dare to speak.

"Your eyes might not be the color of the ocean, but, damn, I drown in them every time."

What's the saying? The eyes are the window to the soul? Yeah, he believes that, there's no doubt in his mind that whenever he meets your gaze he sees into your person. He can feel you--it's like the world stops spinning and it's just you two. Just you and him. No one else.

But your voice is a close second. They way each syllable rolls off your tongue is enough to put him in a daze. It's like you cast a spell on him. The way your tongue flicks and moves as you speak. No matter how simple the sentence, he hangs onto every word--listening as if it's the most important thing in the world. As if you're telling him the cure to cancer, or how to stop hunger. To him you are; you are telling him the most revolutionary thing to ever be heard.

It doesn't matter if you just complaining about some stupid coworker who can't shut up, or you're manager who's always breathing down your neck, or, hell, even the local crackhead who was screaming at 3 AM.

He's taking notes. Of course, it's mentally, but sometimes he'll conveniently have a notepad nearby, and he'll take notes on some people who need to be dealt with... so to speak.

Don't worry, no one, especially you, will miss that drunken man who always roams the streets right when you clock out from work. It's okay, he'll take care of it. Now, you don't have to worry about your safety! You work so hard, look at you, such a hard worker. You deserve a break, come, let him take you to a measure; his treat.

"For you, I'd steal the stars."

You're his light, his muse, his inspiration. What would he do without you? Your forever beauty captivates him and motivates him to write. He has endless creativity when you're on his mind, which is all the time. He just sits in his apartment, his dingy, crappy, apartment, and daydreams about you. Dreaming of how you did your hair today; did you braid it? Is it in locks? Did you straighten it? Oh! What if you used products to curl it! Oh, how wonderful that would be, you'd look so pretty...

"And suddenly, you were all I could dream about."

Sometimes he wonders if you ever think of him, but he quickly dismisses that thought--thinking it's absurd. I mean, sure you confide in him when there's an annoying customer at the dinner you work at, but surely you don't think of him. He isn't that important. Maybe, just maybe, you do? That'd be amazing--a dream come true...

Honestly, he doesn't know what'd he do without you in his life. He doesn't know how he existed before he met you, well, actually; he does. It was a horrible, dull, and hopeless existence. Every day he would go to his studio, painting for some random man, and then go home and attempt to write something, anything. But nothing would come from the hours upon end of him sitting there, tapping his pen against his desk, waiting for something to happen. Something that would cause the gears to turn in his head. But, nope, nada. He had nothing, well, that's until you walked into the picture...

"If forever does exist, then, god, please let it be you."

God, does he love you...

He loves you so much, please, just notice him, he needs you to breathe, to write. You're his everything, his endless inspiration, he never has an empty head when you're around. He's nothing without you!

I mean, what is a poet without his muse? Right?

#lovesick!poet x reader #obsessive love #lovesick #this is kinda long ngl #𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡'𝙨 𝙮𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚'𝙨 #yandere headcanons #yandere oc #yandere oc x you #tw; toxic codependency #tw; toxic love #𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙠!𝙥𝙤𝙚𝙩

46 notes · View notes

prettygirl-gabi · 23 days

Text

Side by side

---

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: none...

Category:F/M

Fandom:Seventeen (SVT) (boyband)

Relationships: !non-idol The8 x !non-idol f reader

Summary: Opposites attract in humans just as much as magnets do, maybe even more.

Trope: Opposites attract

---

Hiiiii everyone who is reading! Welcome to the eighth installment of my new mini series called "Oi! Not this again!" They do not have to be read together or in order! I hope you all enjoy!

---

My life has always been a well-tuned orchestra, a symphony of precision and meticulous notes. A place for everything and everything in its place—that’s my mantra. But somehow, amidst all that careful structuring, you've managed to make your way into the chaos I so desperately try to avoid. And honestly, I didn't see it coming.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror, fixing a stray lock of hair. Tonight is important, not just because it's rare that I go out, but because you're going to be there. You—the riot to my calm, the spontaneity to my planning. The one who seems to live in the present moment with a free spirit I've never quite understood but always found intriguing.

Just as I’m about to leave, my phone buzzes. It's a text from, The8.

"Meet me at the park before the party? Need to talk," it reads.

Confusion knits my brow. We weren't supposed to meet until later. Still, your request feels urgent, and though curiosity has always been my bane, I can't resist it. Throwing on my coat, I head out into the brisk evening air.

The park is alive with the sounds of laughter, the smell of street food wafting through the trees. It’s as if the world knows something important is about to happen. I find you sitting on our favorite bench, the one under the biggest oak tree. You’re dressed casually, almost as if you'd pulled on the first thing you found.

"The8," I call softly, hoping not to startle you. You look up, and there's that smile—half mischief, half allure. But something is different tonight. There's an anxious edge in your eyes, a kind of restlessness that makes my heart race for all the wrong reasons.

“Y/N,” you begin, and just the sound of my name on your lips makes my resolve shake. “I’ve been thinking… about us.”

Us. The simple word sends shivers down my spine. For months, our connection has been a complex mystery. I've wanted to define it, to label it, but you always slipped through my fingers like water.

“Oh?” I say, trying to sound casual but failing miserably. “What about us?”

You let out a sigh, running a hand through your hair. “We’re so different, Y/N. You plan everything, down to the last second. You’re organized, methodical. And me? Well, I’m… not.”

I bite my lip, weighing my words carefully. “That’s what makes us work, though. We balance each other out.”

A sad smile tugs at your lips. “Do we? Or are we just pretending it’s working?”

The crack in my heart widens. "Why would you say that?"

"I love the way you keep me grounded," you admit softly, staring at your hands. "But sometimes... sometimes I feel like I'm holding you back. Like you’re compromising pieces of yourself to fit me in."

“No,” I say quickly, moving to sit beside you. “I’m not compromising. I’m growing. You’ve taught me to embrace the unexpected, The8. To appreciate the beauty in uncertainty.”

There's a silence that ensues, thick with unspoken words and unshed tears. I reach for your hand, holding it between both of mine. The warmth of your skin feels like home.

"Tell me what's really bothering you," I urge, trying to meet your eyes.

“I just... I don’t want you to regret choosing someone like me,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “Someone who’s all over the place.”

I shake my head emphatically. “Regret? No, never. I've never felt more alive, more myself, than when I'm with you.”

“But at what cost?” you counter, pain flashing in your eyes.

“Being with you is not a cost. It’s a choice I make every day because I want to. Because I need to.”

You finally look up at me, and in that moment, it feels like we’re on the precipice of something monumental. Like one wrong word could shatter everything we’ve built.

“Y/N,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “Do you really believe we can make this work?”

My heart races. Do I? In truth, I don't know. But I know I'm willing to try.

“I believe in us,” I say firmly. “And sometimes, that’s enough.”

For the first time tonight, a genuine smile curves your lips. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” I say, squeezing your hand.

We sit there for what feels like hours, just holding onto each other. The world doesn’t disappear—but it feels manageable, bearable, because we’re facing it together.

"Y/N," you murmur. "I'm sorry if I made you doubt us."

I shake my head. "I'm guilty of doubting myself more often than I'd like to admit. But doubting us? It's hard when I'm with you," I reply, resting my head on your shoulder.

It’s amazing how the simple act of being with you has rearranged my life’s priorities, bringing into focus what really matters.

“Come on,” you finally say, standing up and pulling me with you. “Let’s go to that party. We promised we’d make an appearance.”

I nod, feeling lighter, more hopeful. Maybe we are opposites. But maybe, just maybe, opposites are exactly what we need to become something whole.

As we walk, hand in hand, towards the bright lights and loud music, I'm struck by the certainty that this—whatever it is, whatever it will become—is worth it. Worth the confusion, the doubt, and even the fear. Because with you by my side, I am more than willing to embrace the chaos and dance through life's uncertainties.

After all, isn’t that what love is all about?

“I wouldn't trade this for anything,” you say quietly, almost as if reading my thoughts.

“Me neither,” I reply, squeezing your hand a little tighter. “Not for anything.”

We walk on, side by side, our hearts beating in uncertain, beautiful sync.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

‐Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-Gabi✨️🎀

14 notes · View notes

marshmallowprotection · 1 year

Note

What would happen if we actually got a chance to kiss Suit during the whole “Treat me like Ray,” thing?

"Treat me like Ray!"

Do you want to know why Suit Saeran asks you to treat him like Ray of all people? Do you really want to know if it hasn't already made its frank appearance in front of you? Ray is allowed to feel emotions. All of them, from happiness, joy, sadness, and misery. He can feel them all because he was crafted to not only be useful to Rika, but to be her idealized son to make up for her actions against Mother Choi.

But, in the case of Saeran, he's nothing of the sort.

He's built on anger and animosity. He has to be angry and if he's not then he'll be destroyed. Ray was destroyed for something as simple as love. He loved you with everything in his heart, but that wasn't in the cards for him. Ray can't have love because it gets in the way of a plan created by Rika and furthered by him. He can't do something in paradise that goes against the grain.

Love made him turn against the Savior and the only safe place they had left. What can Ray and Saeran do if they have to leave Mint Eye? They would die out there, even with an MC, because Saejoong would find them in a matter of days the minute he noted something. It isn't hard for that man since he's got eyes and ears everywhere looking for his sons.

They can't turn to V or Saeyoung, they'll been programmed to want to imprison those two, or at best, kill them.

Saeran is only allowed to be angry and spiteful at the world around him. That is the only thing he can have and he's angry about that. If you put yourself in his shoes, it might make more sense. Imagine... you wake up in pain, you're distressed and dazed, and the first thing you hear is that Ray went against everything you both agreed to not do in the name of some stranger you barely know, and this suffering is because of that.

How stupid could Ray be to dream?

How dumb is Ray to fight against the only thing that's keeping them safe and alive?

Who cares if they're miserable and broken, this is the only place to breathe a single ounce of fresh air without the threat of their dad on the prowl!

You don't hate Ray for dreaming and wanting more out of life. You don't hate him for being himself and many people don't understand that. But, you feel contempt at the situation. You're angry the Savior punished him for doing what Ray does best, but there's nothing you can do but do what you do best. Destroy Ray's hopes and dreams so you have a small fighting chance of survival in the only place left that will keep you alive.

Does that make you feel good?

It doesn't make you feel good.

Saeran wants to crush Ray before Mint Eye crushes him first. Is it the right thing to do? No. It's not the right thing to do. But, he feels like it is the only option. It's also why he tries to beat you down. He sees the world in your eyes and knows—he just knows that you're going to die like Ray will if you don't learn how to survive the "right way". He has to do what the strength of Mint Eye tells him to do, no matter what, and if you don't learn how to adapt, you'll be just as dead as Ray.

Contrary to what some people believe, Saeran doesn't want Ray to suffer, nor does he want you to die. He wants you both to understand that there's no point in trying to fight against Mint Eye. You'll always lose and he'll always wake up in the basement after Ray's heart ends up broken time and time again. Give up, accept that anger is the one and only way to live because that's what he's had to do.

That's his life and that's all it will ever be.

But, you know what, deep down, Saeran doesn't want to live that way for the rest of his life. He wants to be soft... he wants to be loved... he wants to know what warmth feels like. But, he can't have that. Look... Ray was just tortured for kissing you. He was struck over and over in the basement until he nearly disappeared for good.

Do you think that Saeran is going to risk losing his life over the same thing?

Do you think he'll let himself disappear for good knowing that Ray might have to suffer again without him there to take over and do what has to be done? Do you think he'll let you be killed for fighting the Savior when he knows there's something about you that makes him feel confused and perplexed about what he thinks it means to be strong?

When Suit Saeran says, "Treat me like Ray," he's asking you to show him what love feels like without the threat of being sent down into a dirty basement with nothing but beatings and elixir at his throat. He wants to know what made Ray turn against his fears and fight Rika in the way that made him wake up in a crumpled heap. If he pretends to be Ray, then only Ray could get into trouble.

Saeran can't get into the same trouble if it happened to Ray instead.

If Ray is being soft... vulnerable... loved... then Saeran can't get hurt because he's playing a "game".

He's using Ray as a cover to learn what he doesn't understand, but the reason why he won't ever be happy with you treating him like you treat Ray is simple. He's not Ray. He can never be Ray. So, he can't be happy with you treating him like Ray when all he wants to do is to be treated like Saeran... and for you to do that, he would have to be okay with being loved as Saeran, rather than trying to pretend to be Ray in a horrible attempt to learn what it means to be vulnerable.

That's why Saeran shuts down when you don't give him what he wants—because it's not what he wants and if you had given it to him in that moment, it would've just cemented the fact that he is a cruel monster who isn't meant to do anything but destroy, and that is the outcome that leads to Bad Ending 2, where he pushes you too far in anger and then realizes too little, too late what he truly wanted to be with you.

If you would have kissed him in that moment, it wouldn't have made him happy and it wouldn't have done anything to change the situation at hand. The only thing you would be confronted with is one simple fact. And unfortunate reality where he pushes you too far after you try to give him what you think he wants and it breaks you. It might involve a different road to get to the end but the final product will be the same. There is no doubt in my mind.

Saeran outright confesses this fact in the chatroom AFTER this sequence. He admits that he knows he can only survive in this damn place by playing along with the game his Savior created and you're not going to make him see otherwise. That's a lesson he has to learn by himself. Which, is later pointed out and expanded on when he has his talk with V and then when he apologizes to you about his actions and choices all this time.

Saeran can't pretend to be Ray to be happy.

Saeran needs to be SAERAN to be happy.

#character analysis #ask #anon #mod kait #mystic messenger #mysme #mm #mysticmessenger #saeran choi #choi saeran #suit saeran #saeran #saeran mystic messenger #saeran mysme #saeran mm #mm saeran #mysme saeran #mystic messenger saeran

46 notes · View notes

invested-in-your-future · 9 months

Note

What do you think they did wrong with Ruby dealing with her issues?

Long story short - everything.

See, to begin, this connects to one of other pet-peeves I have with the show and the community - and that is people throwing around the idea that "since Yang has trauma we don't need another one one (with psychological trauma)".

It's VERY easy to throw around terms like "trauma" while also inevitably putting bunch of very different experiences together as one and the same.

So first of all, I would like to preface what I am about to say with a pretty simple statement - Ruby's Trauma is not the same as Yang's Trauma is not the same as Blake's trauma is not the same as Weiss trauma.

The way to handle grief is different from PTSD which is also pretty different from the way one would handle a battered-woman syndrome or parental abuse. All are traumatic experiences but they aren't the same.

I think most would agree that a lot of Ruby's issues deal with grief - her journey started with the loss of her mother which she never processed and V3 ended with very important people to her dying right in front of her.

Grief can be…very tricky.

I often like to say that grief is almost "manipulative" towards its host in that it wears many faces - manifesting through very different things within person's life. It's very easy to write it off as "anger" or as "feeling sad', but grief can also make a person feel nostalgic, for example or even induce temporary happiness via that nostalgia. Sometimes it won't rear its head for long while and sometimes, its there with the person every second of every day. Or sometimes a person might wake up in the morning and just not want to get up at all, struggling to find meaning in what they do.

That makes it tricky to deal with it when the key aspect of "dealing" (or rather "living with") trauma is being able to parse and proccess it - how can one process grief if they don't necessarily recognize it? I sort of attempt to reflect that in rewrite in that Ruby might jump from very different viewpoints as she doesn't really know how to handle it and how sometimes specific things being set might set her off too.

Grief is something that manifests VERY differently with each person - there's no magic solution that fits all.

I don't think even "keeping it in the backround" would be as much of an issue - for example it would have been plausible for Ruby to be COMPLETELY happy for entire story up until they get to Atlas and then just within seconds go off-the-rails. Or Ruby could be constantly enveloped in it, finding herself unable to escape - that sometimes happens too - grief is tricky.

The issue is that show doesn't really do either. At no point in the story is Ruby actually allowed to process her trauma or even properly experience it. The show doesn't have her "ignore it" nor "indulge in it". The narrative just gestures towards Ruby and shrugs that she's feeling "some way".

Talking about postponing or ignoring it - a common thing with grief, is that it's very "tempting" to attempt to "postpone" one's grief - "Oh I'll just do this and that, I can't deal with this right now.".

The worst thing you can do with grief is not allowing yourself to actually proccess it - to completely ignore it and to dull your emotions and pretend you haven't gone through a life-changing experience. It's VERY important to let yourself actually grieve.

It sure would be REALLY awful if the end message of a certain volume of RWBY show were to be that you have to just push through and ignore everything in your past and not "dwell" on it and just believe you are perfect and unchanging, even if it meant using a VERY AWFUL analogy to "shed" your issues, huh?

#rwby #ruby rose #rwde

18 notes · View notes

thisgirlnamedblusy · 4 months

Note

I absolutely love your story’s!

What about one where the reader is has the tendency to just ignore their own emotions? Especially the negative ones. Like they’ll just pretend and act like they don’t exist until it’s some random Tuesday and they’re trying to stop crying in the kitchen cause they did something really small and stupid but it just happened to be the last thing they could take before being forced to cry? If it’s Donna’s emotions they try to be comforting and understanding, trying to encourage her to reach out for comfort and support and it’s just the exact opposite when it comes to their own emotions lol

Yesss!!! Here it is!!! Thank you for your request!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes :)))

Emotions

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Fluff, hurt/comfort, mentions of depression,angst, mental health problems...

Word count: 3,931

Summary: You were not able to say what you feel, and it was getting worse

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!! Oh, well, just a reminder: if you feel sad, talk to someone, look for help, in this world there are a lot of amazing people wanting to help you :))) Requests are open!! I love you all!!!

You opened your eyes. It was just another day.

You could say that you had been lucky in life. Your family was never rich. It was never more than just one more in the village. Nothing special, nothing remarkable. Get up, work, pray to Mother Miranda and so on constantly.

Why could a routine like that be called luck? Very simple, you found a way to get out of that monotonous and boring life.

You probably wouldn't have been so lucky if you had approached the Beneviento estate that cold winter day.

Meeting Donna was a refreshing change, the discovery that the Lords were also human.

Monster, psychopath and reclusive. Those were the names the villagers referred to her by. You had no way of knowing if it was true or not. You feared her like the others, until you met her.

She was a woman with problems, mysterious, shy, and above all, very far from the concept of monster. It was almost like looking at yourself in a mirror: emotional problems, real rejection of any human relationship. That two antisocial people like you, soon could not live without each other was curious.

How you fell in love didn't matter, it was just fate, or so you thought, or so you liked to think.

Your new life was much better than the previous one, but, just as they told you when you were a little girl: when you try to run away from your problems, you take them with you.

A truth that was difficult for you to understand, due to the feeling of being happy with the woman you loved. The ghosts of your own tribulations appeared to torment you soon.

You were never particularly good when it came to understanding your own emotions. Pain, sadness, anger... Everything that your mind considered as something negative, as something that could prevent people from appreciating you, loving you, were always hidden in a dark corner of your feelings. If you hid them, you couldn't feel them. Or so you thought.

Perhaps that constant joy and the apparent desire to live and enjoy the moment were what caught Lady Beneviento's attention. A wandering soul, with its own emotional problems, could find light in someone like you, in someone who, apparently, didn’t suffer, didn’t hate; someone who was happy, even if it was just a facade.

With a sigh, you sat up, letting your feet dangle over the edge of the bed. You were alone, Donna wasn't sleeping next to you and you wondered why you didn't miss her, or why you didn't need to seek some comfort in her arms. You still denied to yourself that you were going through a bad time, an existential crisis and the negative feelings that were taking up more and more space in your mind.

“Angie, where is Donna?” You asked the doll, who remained next to you, as if she could know that there was something wrong with you, that something was going through your head, torturing you.

“She's gone to take a shower,” the puppet answered, studying your expressionless look, that serene look that you naturally forced yourself. You were so used to doing it that it didn't even take any effort.

“She hasn't woken me up?” You asked, rubbing your eyes. Why hadn't she woken you up? Didn't she want to have to put up with you? Why?

Again paranoia and fear took over your thoughts.

Angie simply shrugged, getting off the bed and leaving the room.

No, you couldn't think that somehow you were to blame. You were always happy. In front of her you were always happy. Was she ignoring you? It was very unlikely, but your thoughts were far from reality.

After staring at the wooden floor for longer than you'd like, you got out of bed, looking at yourself in a mirror. Smile: ready, tears: hidden.

You walked through the dark hallways, listening to the characteristic noise of a shower. At least Donna was there. Why were you thinking that she had left you or something? You hadn't done anything for it. That depressive state you had been living in lately was getting worse and worse.

“Donna?” You asked, opening the bathroom door.

There was no response, just a sob.

The woman you loved was there, but she was not well. Her body was curled up under the water. Poor Donna had suffered another crisis and you hadn't even noticed. Once again, you had to put aside your own problems. She needed you. She needed the cheerful and understanding (Y/N). It's not like you needed her comfort, or so you thought.

“Donna, my love...” You whispered, approaching the shower and crouching next to her sad body. “Honey, what's wrong?”

“(Y/N),” the doll maker sobbed, looking up a bit. “I… I don't…”

You sighed, kneeling next to her and letting her throw herself into your arms. The scratch marks on her skin betrayed a panic attack, one of the many that poor Donna frequently suffered.

“Hey, darling... Come on, calm down,” you whispered affectionately, turning off the tap and letting her body settle into yours. “Have you suffered another crisis?” You asked, with your clothes soaked, but without stopping hugging her.

She nodded embarrassedly, clutching the fabric of your nightgown.

How could a stupid existential crisis be more important than Donna's problems? You felt selfish, you felt like you were putting problems typical of a 22-year-old woman ahead of you, instead of hers, instead her own emotions that tended to get out of control.

At least she showed her emotions.

“Come on, that's it, honey. It's okay, I'm here with you, do you hear me? Nothing and no one can hurt you. Come on, Donna, stop crying...”

You hugged her silently, starting to feel cold because of your wet clothes. Donna cried inconsolably, for no reason other than the demons she was born with. How ironic. She cried for no reason and you, with more than one, were incapable of doing so.

“Come on, honey, let's shower and have breakfast, okay?” You said affectionately, to which she nodded erratically, letting herself be carried by your arms.

Most days were like this: a small crisis always solved by your eternal patience and then... Then the tranquility of that life full of love, silent gestures, kisses and caresses.

You didn't understand what exactly the reason for your regret was, but it became more and more present in your emotions. At least in the ones you wanted not to be seen.

The cold of winter washed over your body as you left the house, resting your cup of coffee on the porch railing. If it was winter… That meant you had been with Donna for at least a year. You were so happy that it barely seemed like a sigh, but repressing your sadness or your worries so much had taken its toll on you.

“(Y/N),” a soft voice interrupted your lost gaze towards infinity. Suddenly the cold became much more present. How long have you been out there?

Your expressionless face gave a fake smile, one that you were already an expert at.

“Donna,” you sighed, letting yourself be hugged from behind and closing your eyes. Her hugs were relaxing, calm, although your problems began to cloud the emotions you felt, the positive ones, the only ones you were capable of showing.

“What are you doing out here, tesoro? It's very cold,” she asked in a soft, tender tone, as if she hadn't just been crying uncontrollably in the shower a moment ago.

No, in no way you envied the ease with which Donna cried, showed her sorrows or her weaknesses. But you wondered how she could feel after having let out everything that tormented her, why she had no problem talking to you about the things that made her sad, that made her shake and lose her mind. Surely you had the real problem.

It was time to smile even wider.

“Oh, well,” you said, gently grabbing the hand around your waist. “This morning it was very difficult for me to get up,” you lied, letting her body sway yours slightly.

“I know, you were so pretty asleep that I didn't want to wake you up,” the woman in black whispered, kissing your cheek. There was certainly nothing to tell you that she had suffered a terrible crisis not long ago.

You laughed fakely knowing that, although you had wanted to get up, the invisible chains of your emotions prevented you from doing so. You wanted to never get up, to spend your life in the warm embrace of the sheets, where you wouldn't have to pretend, where maybe, just maybe, you could cry, you could be able to cry.

“Is there ever a time when you don't think I’m pretty?” You asked trying to joke with the naturalness you had learned to fake.

“Mmm,” Donna murmured, kissing your neck innocently, like she always did. “No”

You laughed, this time genuinely, letting your sadness and anguish camouflage themselves again with ease. Maybe it had just been a bad time, maybe you had the feeling of being sad when in reality you weren't, you never were.

If you had stopped to reflect, you would have realized that this was impossible.

Time continued to pass and your desire to get out of bed decreased more and more. There was something inside you that was dying to come out, but you were unable to know what it was, unable to seek comfort that you yourself didn't think you needed.

And so another week passed. Tuesday the 24th, that's what it said on an old calendar. You and Donna were happy. That weird feeling had was nothing to do with her, but everything to do with you. Sadness turned into anguish, anguish from not knowing what to do with those negative emotions, from not being able to express them properly. The smile and your apparently calm and happy attitude were still the protagonists of your life.

“Do you like it?” Donna asked, unsure as always that her food wasn't good enough for you.

The day had started like many others, but, for some reason, that pressure you felt in your chest had grown out of proportion.

“Well, of course, you know I love the way you cook, Donna,” you said with a tender smile, oblivious to the pressure you felt in your body.

She smiled and lowered her head, embarrassingly pleased. You looked at her for a moment and continued eating.

“Oh...” you said when you went to get the jug of water that was always on the table. “I forgot to get water,” you said, without giving it importance but with a knot in your stomach. What was happening to you?

“It's okay, honey, I'll go down and get it,” Donna said softly, wiping herself with a napkin.

“No!” You shouted, without knowing why, making her turn the head sharply towards you, her eye wide open. “I... I... I'll go down, it's my fault,” you said to try to fix that shock that came out of nowhere.

“Don't worry, tesoro. We all make mistakes," she said, with an understanding smile.

You tried to control your breathing. You were nervous, upset about something.

“Yeah, but I make them more than anyone else,” you whispered, as if the truth, a truth that was tormenting your mind, suddenly left your lips.

“What? Why do you say so?” Donna asked, with an air of concern as you walked past her. Her hand stopped you, settling on your arm. You shook your head, not quite sure why your throat was stinging.

“Oh, no, it's nothing, Donna. It was just a joke,” you said, taking a deep breath and flashing a sincere smile, heading to the elevator.

You walked slowly through the dark hallways, aware that something inside you was dying to come out.

“Okay...” You murmured, placing the jug under the faucet. The solitude of that kitchen gave you a contradictory feeling of tranquility and melancholy.

You were thirsty, so before lifting the jug you poured yourself a glass, with the bad luck that your thoughts distracted you enough for the liquid to overflow.

“Oh, shit,” you protested, pushing the jug away, which made it even worse, causing your clothes to become soaked with the liquid of life. “Fuck!”

You screeched, making your voice bounce off the rickety walls of the old kitchen.

“Fuck!” You screamed again, hitting the counter with your fist, hurting yourself.

It seemed stupid, but suddenly the burning in your throat increased to such a point that an unfamiliar moisture began to be felt in your eyes.

After so much time, so much repression, empty mornings and strange thoughts… Finally, you were crying.

The reason? You didn't know specifically.

You were happy. Your life was going well. Donna was a sweetheart despite her problems. She loved you, you loved her. No, Donna Beneviento was not the problem. You were the problem.

All your life you had been wondering what you contributed to the world, what the meaning of your life was. You never knew how to answer. Why did you live in that village? What would have happened if you had been born somewhere else? Would you have been happier? Would your life have been better, or worse? What would your life have been like if you had never met Donna?

They seemed like stupid questions, which came to light with the simple act of spilling a glass of water. Maybe that's what was happening to you. Negative emotions filled your soul, until, like that water, they ended up overflowing.

What was it that made you special? What virtues did you have? How serious were your flaws?

That existential crisis followed you throughout your life almost like the B side of your own shadow. Present, but barely visible. Did you really deserve the life you led? What had you done to deserve it?

No, you didn't deserve that life. You hadn't done anything memorable, you didn't think you were an angel, a good person who cared about others. No, you weren't special. You were a villager like so many others, a strange villager, attracted to women, considered a freak by your own family.

Yes, everyone despised you for the way you were, for being different from the rest. Since your emotions were not predisposed to come to light, you were not able to realize that this was the reason for your depression.

Everyone despised you, except Donna. She loved you, she understood you even though she didn't know she had to. Your cheerful attitude and tireless smiles surely made her believe that you were always a happy girl, that suffering had not happened in your life.

But that wasn't true, it never was true. You had realized it too late.

You had no talents, no great aptitudes for anything. You didn't know how to paint, to work wood or to care of flowers. The only thing you knew how to do was exist and you weren't even good at that.

That sudden revelation made you unable to stop crying, making everything that you were hiding inside appear in front of you like a tornado ready to destroy everything. Crying wasn't something you did, something you wanted but at that moment, you couldn't stop doing it.

You turned, hands covering your eyes, the emotions you had so repressed eating away at you from within. You wanted to stop crying, but you couldn't.

Your body leaned, lowering itself to the floor with your back resting on the counter. You didn't want to move. You couldn't do anything but shed tears tirelessly.

“(Y/N)?” Your lover's voice reached your ears with difficulty “Is everything okay? The food getting cold...” Donna stopped talking when she turned the corner and saw your pathetic crying on the floor.

“Donna, leave me alone, please,” you said sobbing, not wanting to look at her face.

She remained silent, watching you as if she were seeing something extraordinary.

“Why are you crying, tesoro? I had never seen you…” She murmured confusedly, approaching cautiously.

“It doesn't matter, okay? Go away, Donna, please,” you continued sobbing, looking away from her.

The woman in black approached slowly, putting a hand on your shoulder and studying your eyes hurt by crying.

“But, but tesoro. If, if something happens to you I want to...” Donna insisted, crouching down next to you and caressing your cheek.

Not even her innocent comfort could stop the horrible feelings passing through your body.

“Donna, please, I don't want you to see me like this, go away,” you said again, pushing her hand away from your face, which made her frown with a confused look.

“I want to help you,” she said, with a pleading tone, unable to calm your discomfort even in the slightest.

You shook your head. Another rare feeling, anger, shot through your nerves.

“Help me? I don't want your help!” You shouted abruptly, unpleasantly. “You're not even able to help yourself! So, no, Donna, go away.”

The doll maker stood up frightened by your words, looking at you with sadness and deep pain.

Your nerves calmed when you realized how unfair you had been to her.

“Donna, please go. Go before I say something stupid again,” you said in a low tone, your voice broken by crying.

She shook her head slowly, nervous but calm at the same time. No, she wasn't going to move from there.

“I'm sorry, (Y/N), but I'm not going anywhere,” she whispered, bending down and sitting next to you without speaking, with her gaze away from yours, but without separating from you.

Time passed slowly. Your sobs wouldn't stop, no matter how much you wanted them to. Donna was still there, sitting next to you without speaking, not saying anything that would cause your pent-up anger to explode against her.

Her hand moved slowly towards yours, which had left your face to press tightly against the floor. At first you resisted her hold, but the softness of her skin against yours immediately relaxed your muscles.

You opened your eyes for a moment, looking at your clasped hands. Donna was there, silently, with you. Despite your harsh words, she was still willing to help you. You didn't know whether to feel better or worse about it.

You searched her gaze. Her head was leaning against the furniture, tilted up, seeming almost inert, caressing your hand without even moving or trying to get closer. You couldn't tell if it was because she really didn't know what to do, or because she was giving you the time you so needed.

“I lied to you, Donna,” you said when your crying slowed down enough for you to be able to speak clearly.

She turned her head towards you, but her expression remained unperturbed, although you noticed some nervousness in her breathing. Surely she had to control herself at those words. Miraculously, she did.

“I'm not the person you think I am...” You continued talking, resting your head on the furniture in the same way as her, shaking it and looking at the ceiling. “I was never… I was never happy. I didn't have as many friends as you think. I didn't have any friends. I've never been good at anything I've done. I tried to be a useful girl and I just failed and failed...”

She nodded, but looking away from you.

“I always... They always told me that a smile is the best weapon against sadness, that if I smiled and pretended to be happy I would end up being. I've spent my life pretending that there was nothing that could make me stop laughing.”

Donna nodded again, listening patiently to a confession you didn't even know you had to confess.

“I have, I have always had problems expressing my emotions. I know it doesn't seem like it but... That's right. It's not that hard for me to laugh when I feel like it, or... Even to love you or show you that I love you, because that, Donna, is the only thing I'm sure of.”

The woman in black looked at you, a sad smile appearing on her face, not wanting to interrupt, not wanting to let your hand go.

“I've been repressing my sadness, my anger and... and I feel I can't take it anymore,” you said, sobbing again, leaning your body towards her shoulder, which she gladly offered to you, bringing your body closer to hers, sighing deeply.

“Tell me, (Y/N), what makes you sad?” Donna asked, with a tender voice, with the softest voice you had ever heard, putting her other arm around your body, to not let your demons take you with them.

“I... I...” You stammered, letting yourself be calmed by her lavender perfume, letting her arms protect you from everything bad that harassed you. “I don't feel like I worth it.”

Donna sighed again, kissing your head lovingly and hugging you even tighter.

“That’s not true.”

“Is not? Tell me Donna, why would you love someone like me?”

“Why would you love me?” She asked back, her lips glued to your hair, her arms giving you the warmth your trembling body needed. “I'm not... I'm not fine... I'm just giving you problems.”

“At least you can express what you feel,” you said, lowering your head to her chest, comforted by the beating of her heart.

“I wish I couldn't do it that way,” Donna whispered, her voice breaking too, tormented by her own problems.

“I wish I were able to say what I feel,” you whispered, adorning that phrase of hers with your own, with those problems so disparate and so similar.

“You’re doing it now... (Y/N). You’re doing it with me, and you can always do it,” Donna said, lifting your chin so that your teary eyes could look at her.

A sincere smile crossed your face as that revelation, hidden by your negative emotions, made its way into the darkness of your mind.

“I can always do it...” You repeated, changing crying for a smile, changing sadness for joy. Not a fake joy, a real one, a genuine one. The pressure in your chest decreased as if by magic, as if a few simple words contained your negative feelings. But this time it was different. It wasn't an armored door that enclosed them, but rather one that was open, that would let your torments out whenever you needed it.

You remained silent and moved a bit to be at the level of her lips, kissing them tenderly, with gratitude.

“You are the best thing that has happened to my life,” you said in a low voice, merging into a hug with Donna, letting both of you show what you felt.

“You are the only thing that has happened in my life,” she said, smiling, with the moisture on her face revealing a tear that ran down her cheek.

“Donna...” You sighed, separating yourself a little, squeezing your eyes tightly, feeling a comforting release.

“Listen to me, (Y/N),” she said, with a more serious tone, cupping your face in her hands. “Promise me that you will always tell me what you feel. It doesn't matter if it's a bad thing or a good thing. I... I will do everything possible to always help you. I will always be with you, my love...”

You nodded, feeling the need to cry again, but this time, with joy.

“You will always be with me...” You whispered, repeating her words.

“Always,” the woman in black reaffirmed.

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

58 notes · View notes