#ch: cara | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year

Text

A Fresh Start [5]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: use of fake name, reader’s on the run, grogu is a menace, jealousy, pining (is that a warning?)

Word Count: 4,913

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night, you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you fall more and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant for everyone.

Ch. #05: WIFE MATERIAL

Chapter Summary: Nima thinks you and the Marshal are cute. Cara thinks you and the Marshal are cute. Mayfield just runs for his life.

"too shy to say, but i hope you stay." -Billie Eilish

Two weeks flashed by in a blink of an eye, and Din Djarin and his son had fallen into a new routine⏤ one with you as a staple addition to it. Din had been so sure that their lives had been perfect on Nevarro before you, but you swept in and created a space for yourself that was now essential. The sound of your voice, your laughter, your steps padding across the floor had seamlessly become a part of the soundtrack of his and his son’s life.

“The wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round,” You sung to Grogu who mumbled the repetitive words while miming the spinning motions you made with your hands. His large brown eyes were focused on you with great intensity. “The wipers on the bus go…”

“Swish, swish, swish.” Grogu mumbled the words in Basic while waving his arms side to side to mimic the motion of wipers. You clapped your hands excitedly, and Grogu giggled and bounced at the praise.

Din leaned against the wall with his arms crossed as he watched the scene unfold in the living room. Grogu had finished with breakfast and now sat on the couch in your lap. He was half tempted to call Cara and let her know he was taking a sick day. If he wasn’t so sure she’d see through his excuse and mock him for it, he might’ve tried.

You turned your head to meet his gaze, and Din tensed at being caught staring. He pushed off the wall and walked over. You lifted Grogu in the air, rocking him to make him laugh, and Din scooped him from your hands to curl into his chest. “Are you having fun, ad’ika?” He asked as Grogu buried his face into the crook of his neck. “Are you having fun with Soran?”

“ ‘lek!” Grogu cooed.

“Do Mandalorians have any rhymes or songs?” You asked.

Din titled his head. “I know a lullaby, but it’s not like the ones you sing with him.” He rubbed Grogu’s back. “Thank you for the songs.” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and Din elaborated. “Grogu has gotten better with some words in Basic. I was worried.”

“Don’t be.” You rose from the couch and walked around to stand beside him. “The book I’m reading says that kids who are raised in a multilingual home take a little longer in their language development. It’s completely normal.”

Your words soothed his quiet concerns. To be honest, Din hadn’t been as worried about Grogu’s speaking habits since you arrived simply because he had become more vocal. Add to that the fact that he’d be starting school next week, brightened his mood even further. Grogu would only learn more and more from there. Din began to walk towards the door while still cradling his son in his arms. You stayed one step beside him with a sweet smile decorating your soft features. The warmth in your eyes when you stared at Grogu always brought a smile to his own face.

“I’ll bring home dinner from the new place that opened up in the plaza.” Din said. “Don’t worry about cooking.”

“Ooh, yum.” You playfully tugged on one of Grogu’s ears making him squeal again. “Hear that? We’re getting noodles for dinner tonight.”

The dinner situation had oddly been settled without much discussion. A pattern had just clicked into place. Din would come home and remove his helmet to eat with Grogu while you got some time to yourself, then you would come out to watch Grogu while he cleaned up from his day out in the city. Finally, he’d don his helmet once more and the three of you ended up spending time with one another before Din would take Grogu to bed. Sometimes, you’d even eat dinner with them. Din and you would find a spot on the floor, like a picnic, and sit back to back while Grogu ran circles around you both sneaking food from every plate he could touch.

“Noodle.” Grogu bounced in his arms and repeated the word over and over as if the chant would bring forth the food immediately.

Din held his arms out for you to take Grogu from him. “Only if you behave, ad’ika.”

“Tell your dad that you always behave.” You gasped, as if appalled at his statement. “You’re a little angel, aren’t you?”

“ ‘lek!”

Din chuckled with a shake of his head. He loved his son more than life itself, but angel would hardly be the word he’d use to describe Grogu’s menace-like tendencies. It was his mischievous nature that Din loved so dearly. If there were trouble in a nine mile radius, Grogu would find it. And if there wasn’t? His son was hardly hesitant in starting the mayhem himself.

“Oh,” You said abruptly, “Don’t forget, Grogu’s appointment is at 2 today.”

Din nodded, thankful for the reminder, and mentally made a note. This would be Grogu’s first appointment with the local physician and he wanted to be present for it. He believed you to be more than capable of taking his son on your own, but Din worried how Grogu would handle being in a medical facility. He wasn’t sure how much Grogu went through while in Gideon’s hands, and Din wanted to be there to support him in any way that he could.

“Thanks. I can meet you there.” Din replied. He leaned forward to rest his forehead against Grogu’s⏤ smiling when the boy wrapped his arms around his helmet in response. “Be good, ad’ika.” Din leaned back and after a beat he offered you a small nod. “I’ll see you this afternoon, cyar’ika. Call me if you need me.”

“I will. Bye, Mando.” You replied. As he stepped out the door, you stayed in the doorway to allow Grogu to wave at him. Din smiled to himself and readjusted his gloves to give his hands something to do. He would be lying if he said that he never had the urge to rest his forehead against yours when saying good-bye in the morning. A fact that he tried very, very hard not to think about.

You sat on the couch reading one of the many books from your past library on the holopad in your hands. As it turned out, after successfully guessing your last used password from a year ago, you were able to access all the books you had downloaded during your training years. Right now, the relevant ones you were reading all dealt with pediatric development and care. It hadn’t been a topic that particularly interested you back then. You learned what you had to in order to properly treat any younger patients, but that was it. Now, you found the topic exhilarating.

The more information you absorbed the better prepared you were to take care of Grogu. That was your thought process at least. Doing a good job was about more than just ‘doing a good job’. Grogu had quickly become an important part of your life, and you truly cared for the little boy. More than just Grogu, his father had grown on you as well. Living in this house with them, becoming a part of their daily routine, made you feel like you belonged somewhere. It was something you hadn’t realized you missed until you got a taste of it once again.

“Patu.” Grogu cooed.

You looked up from your holopad to see him standing at your feet holding up a piece of paper. He had been drawing on the floor in the middle of the living room. “What’s this?” You set aside the holopad and picked him up. The picture he drew was a scribbled version of you holding a mass of green with big arms. “Aw, is this me and you?”

“ ‘lek.”

“I love it.” You said with a waver in your voice. A picture drawn in crayons shouldn’t mean so much to you, but you were already making plans to frame the paper and hang it up on the wall where you could see it every single day. “Thank you, sweetie.”

You pulled him closer to cuddle him in a hug, but Grogu surprised you by lifting his hands to pat your cheeks. The cheek patting was hardly new, but then he lifted his head to press his forehead to the middle of your face⏤ the closest he could reach to your forehead. It was the action you watched Mando do to Grogu all the time. A sign of affection. As if the picture wasn’t enough to send you over the edge. You felt your eyes well up with tears and felt so silly at the notion that you couldn’t help but let out a laugh. Grogu pulled back and tilted his head in question.

“Happy tears. I’m happy.” You shook your head and lightly bopped him on the nose with your finger making you giggle. “You made me very, very happy.”

If there was one thing you had learned about yourself in the three weeks you had been here it was how unhappy and alone you were in Tatooine⏤ hell, even in Coruscant this last year. You knew, you understood, but you hadn’t truly realized until you began to make new connections. It was all so overwhelming and it left you an emotional mess.

“How about we leave the house early?” You sniffed. “We can go say hello to Peli and Nima, and then pick up lunch.”

Grogu was just as happy as you assumed he’d be at the prospect of leaving the house. It took you only a few minutes to clean up a bit and get Grogu into his pram before the two of you were out and traveling to Peli’s shop. In your time here, you had learned the layout of Nevarro well enough to get around without much issue. There were still a few places you needed instruction to get to, but you were fairly proud of how settled you had become.

You heard Peli’s shop before you saw it, and Grogu’s pram sped up a bit in excitement to see Peli. He zoomed through the shop with practiced ease and you followed behind at a casual pace. It seemed the shop wasn’t overly busy and Grogu led you through the garage out to the back yard which Peli used more as a junkyard.

“Green bean!” Nima yelled in greeting.

She poked her head up from a pile of scrap metal to bounce over to the pram. Peli followed next and both women stood around Grogu cooing and chatting with the small child. You chuckled and lifted a hand to wave. “Hi. I’m here too.”

“Yeah, but you’re not nearly as cute.” Peli replied bluntly.

Nima lifted her gaze to you with a shrug. “No offense.”

“I’ll try to push through the pain, but I don’t know how I’ll sleep tonight.”

Peli picked up Grogu and began to bounce him on her hip to his delight. Nima tickled his belly once before drifting closer to where you stood. She crossed her arms with a smirk. “Things seem to be going good.”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “They are.”

“Well, I am very happy for you,” Nima set her hand on your shoulder, “But I am also incredibly disappointed because now I don’t have a drinking partner.” You let out a laugh and gave her a light shove. Nima decided to wrap her arm around you instead. “Real talk though, it’s good to see you enjoying yourself. You can show me gratitude for finding you the job by joining me at the cantina tonight. It’s singles tuesday.”

You shook your head. “Okay, first off, why would they have a singles night on a Tuesday? Why not the weekend?” Nima just shrugged. “And unfortunately I can’t. Mando is picking up dinner for us from that new noodle place.”

Nima pulled her arm away to pout. “Can’t you just take your part to go. Hanging with me tonight will be so much more fun than eating in your room alone, I promise.”

“I’m not gonna eat in my room.” You shrugged. “Usually when he brings dinner home, we eat together. We just pick a spot on the floor and sit back to back. That way I can’t see his face while he eats, but we both get to spend dinnertime with Grogu.” Her comical pout slowly turned into a mischievous smile. You furrowed your brow at her in mild concern. It was never good when she got that look. “What?”

“Marshal Mando is bringing dinner home for you guys to share.” Nima repeated what you said, and you weren’t sure what she was getting at. “Together. Kind of like…” You raised an eyebrow at her, and she shimmed her shoulders, “A date.”

Your eyes widened. “What? No. No, no, no. It’s not like that. It’s not romantic.”

“You sit on the floor together. Food spread out around you like a picnic.” Nima said slowly. “How much space is there between the two of you? Or do you literally sit back to back?” At her question, you felt your cheeks grow warm in embarrassment. It was literal. The two of you didn’t necessarily touch, but the last time this happened if you had leaned back even a little you would’ve been able to rest against his back. Nima bounced in place. “That’s so cute! Ah, okay, you definitely can’t come to singles night then.”

“Stop.” You held a hand up to point at her. “You always do this. Remember when you visited me during training and convinced yourself I was having a love affair with my professor?” Nima’s features turned sheepish and she mumbled a response under her breath. “What was that?”

“I was wrong.” Nima sighed. “But in my defense, the two of you had some very intense chemistry.”

“We didn’t. He was married. To a man.” You shook your head. “You literally imagined everything. To which, I will commend your active and creative imagination, but you’re wrong.” You reached out and placed both your hands on her shoulders. “I love you, but you’re very, very wrong.”

“Boo.” Nima dragged the word out, her pout returned.

You laughed at her disdain and she easily rolled into a rant about a customer she had to deal with earlier in the day. Her claim about Mando lingered in your mind, but you shoved it out of your head with gusto. Your first week here had been a bit awkward, but the last two had been a dream as everything seemed to fall into place. Mando had become your friend. It was more than you could ask for considering he was your employer. The last thing you wanted to do was mess that up by catching feelings.

“Hey!” You and Nima paused in conversation to see Peli coming over with Grogu. “Bright eyes here is hungry. You gotta get him out of here before he starts snacking on my stuff.”

You held your arms out and Grogu excitedly leaned out to fall into them. “Are you hungry, sweetie? You wanna get lunch?” He clapped his hands and you chuckled. “Alright. Say good-bye to Peli and Nima. Can you say bye?” Grogu waved his little hand and you decided to continue holding him rather than setting him back into his pram. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“Message me if you change your mind about tonight!” Nima waved.

You walked out of the shop with Grogu’s pram following after you. Mando had taught you how to program it to the arm band he had given to you. Nevarro’s streets were busy and you greeted familiar faces and you passed them. Anytime you had Grogu with you, more people stopped to say hello just so they could have a moment with the adorable child in your arms.

“Hey,” You held Grogu’s hand and his small fingers wrapped around yours, “We were supposed to meet your dad at 2, but should we pick up lunch and surprise him at his office?”

Grogu squealed in agreement and you were unsurprised by the response. You had learned that Mando was a fan of the sandwich shop owned by a local couple and as you’d have to walk by it anyways to get to the station it seemed ideal. It didn’t take long to pick up some food, and the owners had gifted Grogu with some free, blue cookies.

It didn’t take long to get to the station from there, but in that time Grogu had managed to gobble down every single small cookie they had given him. You set the bag of food in the pram so you could brush the crumbs off of his clothes. “I’m starting to think you eat this messy on purpose, kiddo.” He giggled innocently and you shook your head. You picked up the bag of food again as you entered the station. One of the two rotating receptionists sat behind the desk as usual. “Hey, Thilxi! How’re you today?”

“I’m doing well.” The Rishii woman replied. Her feathers were a mix of black, tan, and a pretty shade of orange. “Are you looking for the Marshal?”

“Yeah, is he in?”

“Mhmm. Go on back.”

You thanked her and took the side hallway to get to where the actual office sat. The only person sitting in the room was Cara who was currently reading through a holopad. She lifted her gaze at the sound of your approach and a smirk crossed her features. Before you could speak, she called out, “Hey, Mando. We got some citizens here with a request.”

You recognized the sound of Mando’s heavy boots. He began to ask what he was needed for, but his modulated words came to a halt, as did his stride, when his eyes landed on you. Mando’s head tilted in question. You held up the bag of food with a smile. “Lunch request.”

“Buir!” Grogu blurted. “Skraan. Skraan, Buir!”

Mando chuckled and crossed the space in a few easy strides and scooped Grogu from your arms. “Hey there, ad’ika.” He rubbed his son’s head and tugged lightly on a ear making Grogu giggle and grab at the hand. Mando focused on you. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“We were already out.” You shrugged. “Figured we could just leave from here to the clinic. You aren’t busy are you?”

“No. Not at all.” Mando nodded his head back toward the doorway. “We can sit in my office.”

“Skraan.” Grogu grabbed at the edge of Mando’s helmet.

“Call me if you need me.” Mando said.

Cara, who was still grinning, nodded, “Sure thing, boss.”

“Nice to see you, Cara.” You gave her a small wave before following after Mando. She returned your greeting with ease. You hadn’t actually been to the back part of this office yet, but through the door was just another short hall that led to a generator room, a storage closet, and Mando’s office. There was also a door at the very end of the hallway with an ‘exit’ side hanging above it.

Mando set Grogu down on his desk while you glanced around. It was a small and rather plain space. A large window on one side allowed natural light in, which was nice, and there was a desk in the center of the room. The swivel chair behind the desk was olive in color and it matched the double cushioned couch sitting under the window. Behind the desk, on the wall, were a few drawings made by Grogu.

“What does ‘skraan’ mean?” You asked. “Is it like ‘hungry’? I always notice he uses it around the time I’m about to feed him.”

Mando let out a short laugh. “No. Fair guess though. It’s slang for ‘meal’.”

So the green gremlin was just demanding his meal time. That sounded about right. You set the bag of food on the desk and Grogu immediately rushed to grab it. Mando scooped his son up again before he could shred through the brown bag to get to his sandwich.

“No, no.” Mando said. Grogu let out a soft whine. “Be patient.”

You began to unpack the bag while glancing over at Mando who was bouncing Grogu while chatting with him softly. As you began to throw away the bag into a bin nearby you heard Grogu patting his hand against his father’s chest repeatedly.

“Oh. You know what? He hasn’t used the bathroom since this morning. I can take him.”

“Don’t worry. Start eating, I’ll be back.”

You watched Mando leave with Grogu and turned back to the food. In the silence, it occurred to you that this was a half planned idea considering it wasn’t like the two of you could just sit on the floor here. You rubbed the back of your neck and tried to puzzle this out.

Din’s morning had been busy. There had been a mess on the tarmac where scheduled landings got tangled up causing a number of near crashes. The team there should have been able to manage it on their own, but tempers flared and he got called there to witness. Din spent his morning babysitting temperamental pilots and flight crews.

Needless to say, he really should’ve tried to call in sick.

Din kept telling himself he’d at least get to see Grogu and you sooner than dinner time because of the clinic appointment. He never expected you to show up at the station with his son and lunch in tow. Din was beyond grateful for his helmet because if Cara saw the dumb smile that spread across his face she never would’ve let him live it down.

He stepped out of the bathroom with Grogu only to immediately be met with a sly grin on Cara’s face. He slumped with a sigh. “Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything.” Cara replied. Din tilted his head in exasperation and Cara just laughed in response. She leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms⏤ preening as if she had just won an award. “It’s just… interesting.”

Grogu grunted and began to pat his chest again. Knowing exactly what his son wanted, he knelt over and let Grogu down. He didn’t hesitate to rush away back to where his food was awaiting him. Din turned back to Cara and he pointed at her. “No.”

“Soran bringing you food and a visit from your son in the middle of the day just for the hell of it before you both take him to the doctor for a school registration check up feels very⏤ what’s the phrase I’m looking for?” Cara hummed then nodded her head. “Domestic. Wife material.”

Din set his hands on his hip and chose to keep his stance as casual as he could. His face felt hot and he knew he was bright red under his helmet. He already knew how attached he had become to the domestic energy that surrounded his home life. From day one, Din enjoyed that. Even back when things were still awkward, the moment he came home that first day to dinner being ready and Grogu calling out to him he had been hooked to that lifestyle. It was after that, much more recent, that Din realized it wasn’t just the domestic nature of things he was growing attached to.

It was you.

Din liked coming home to you. He liked watching you sing and dance with Grogu in the kitchen every morning. He liked the moments he got alone with you. It had been an accident the first night he stepped out of his room after putting Grogu to bed and ran into you in the kitchen. He had donned his helmet just to go get water but stayed there for a full hour just to talk with you. Now, he made it a habit.

You were the first woman he had any semblance of feelings for in quite some time. In the past, any sort of attraction he felt was easy enough to ignore. He’d climb aboard the Razor Crest, fly off to work on the next bounty, and that was it. It was done and over. Din was learning that trying to ignore an attraction he felt for someone he lived with was much, much more difficult. He had to forget it though⏤ had to push it aside. You worked for him, and Din would never forgive himself if he jeopardized the new routine Grogu had become accustomed to. If he made you uncomfortable, chased you off, Grogu would miss you so much.

Cara making comments with the words ‘wife material’ was only going to make this a million times harder.

“The two of you are cute is all I’m saying.” Cara shrugged.

Din grunted out a response which made his Deputy just laugh. He sighed and left for his office. It only took him a few steps in the hall before he heard Mayfeld’s voice. When Din got closer, he could see you sitting in one of the seats parked in front of his desk, Grogu in your lap eating, and Mayfeld was leaning against the front of his desk right beside you.

“I can’t believe you haven’t been to Jay’s place yet.” Mayfeld chuckled. “Best place to eat in all of Nevarro. No doubt.”

“Oh yeah?” You asked, helping pinch off pieces of Grogu’s sandwich so he didn’t just inhale the entire thing⏤ a terrible habit his son still had.

Mayfeld shifted on the desk so he was closer. “They have some great mixed drinks too. Maybe I can take you some time.” Din felt his chest tighten in discomfort. A flash of anger mingled with the new sensation, and his hand curled into a fist involuntarily. “You free this weekend?”

Din took that as his cue to close the distance. He didn’t like the idea of Mayfeld taking you anywhere at any time. He didn’t even like the idea of Mayfeld thinking about doing that. You let out a light chuckle and shook your head. “Sorry, I’m busy this weekend with, uh, Mando. He said he’d take me to…the…lava plains?”

“Mando?” Mayfeld repeated. Din saddled up to stand in view and leaned against the open doorway with his arms crossed. Mayfeld’s eyes drifted over to him and Din could see panic settle in the man’s eyes. “Mando!” He scrambled away from you and nearly fell when he reached the end of the desk sooner than anticipated. “Hah, hey, I was just keeping⏤ I didn’t know she was⏤” Mayfeld motioned toward you then shook his head. “I’m gonna go work.”

In order to leave the room, Mayfeld had to walk past him and Din didn’t make it easy for him. He stayed exactly where he was, following the man’s movement slowly with his visor, as Mayfeld struggled to squeeze past him without actually touching him. When he stumbled out and hurried away, Din looked back to you who stared at him with a wide grin. He felt his irritation melt away at the look on your face.

“He’s nice.” You chuckled. “Also, sorry I used you as an excuse. I kind of panicked when he asked me out.”

Din shook his head. “That’s fine. I don’t mind.” He straightened his posture and hated how awkward the next words out of his mouth felt. “Do you… Do you want to see the lava plains?”

“It’s on my to-do list for sure.” You nodded. “I feel like every time I walk down the street I hear one of the droids advertising the plains and the hot springs.” You handed Grogu another bite of his sandwich. His child was so enthralled by the food that he was barely aware of anything happening around him. “Besides, anything would be better than going on a date with a stranger. Nima asked me to go to this singles event tonight, and I have no idea how she can go to those things.”

Din stiffened at your words then scolded himself for growing tense. You weren’t his in any sense other than employer/employee. Din had no claim to you whatsoever which meant he had no right to feel any shred of jealousy⏤ either with Mayfeld or with you attending a singles event. He was paying you to watch Grogu and, by association, paying you to be around him. Besides, it was foolish of him to think this wasn’t something that would come up. You were a ray of sunlight after a dark and stormy day. You were refreshing. A breath of clean air after months of stale hyperspace. Smart, funny, kind, caring. Not to mention gorgeous. Maker, Din would crawl across the sands of Tatooine, under both suns, armorless, if it meant he could just touch⏤

No. He had to stop. That line of thought was the opposite of helpful.

Din cleared his throat. “You and Nima?” He tried not to let any disappointment show. He steeled his voice with practiced ease. “Are you going out with her tonight? I know we haven’t talked about it, but if you need a night off…”

“No way.” You grinned then motioned to Grogu who was still happily settled in your lap. “I told her I was busy. I got a date with this cutie and some noodles.” You tickled Grogu who squealed in response, eager to play. “Don’t I, sweetie?”

Din was smiling like an idiot again.

Maker, was he in trouble.

#The Madalorian #good dad din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #protective din djarin #din djarin #green bean baby #grogu is a precious menace to society #cara dune #mayfield #peli motto #star wars #nevarro #maker im still bad at tags #that'll never change #slow burn #pining #nanny AU #nanny!reader

650 notes · View notes

tabrettbethells · 1 year

Photo

#legend of the seeker #lotsedit #cara mason #caramasonedit #Tabrett Bethell #fantasysource #fantasyedit #smallscreensource #adaptationsdaily #televisiongifs #televisionedit #femalecharacters #dailytvwomen #userstream #usersource #bblecher #tv: legend of the seeker #ch: cara #tabrettbethells

202 notes · View notes

atropalugosi · 4 months

Text

I have been thinking about Alcina calling MC Donna's pet for days now so have some more silly gay shit featuring basically what went through my head upon reading that little piece of dialogue 😅

"Oh, Donna! What a pleasant surprise to see you out of that shop for a ch-" professor Dimitrescu stops dead in her sentence, a nasty scowl overtaking her 'pleasantly surprised' face upon seeing Valeria. "And why, pray tell, is your PET with you?"

"Alcina!" Donna sounds absolutely livid and scandalized, glaring harshly at her adopted sister. "What would M-"

Donna goes on to presumably scold the professor, but Valeria can't focus on it when Alcina's words echo in her brain. 'Pet'... she really wouldn't mind being Donna's pet not that she was thinking of it. But what sort of pet? The novice botanist imagines herself with puppy ears, following her boss around and tending to her every whim. It was hardly a farfetched daydream, but something about it just doesn't stick.

Then an image comes to mind; the look on Donna's face when they saw a cat during their walk. She was completely enamoured. Valeria pictures the woman looking at HER like that, smiling like she were the most precious creature on the planet. Would Donna want it, she'd be more than happy to sport kitty ears and a bell collar to boot, curled up on the botanist's lap while she has her tea. Maybe Donna would even pet her head, calling her "mia cara gattina" or-

"Let's go," Donna's voice cuts through the girl's thoughts, hand claiming her own and pulling her towards a side room.

"Sì mammina," Valeria replies without thinking.

All three women go silent as Valeria feels her entire body combust. Donna looks rather red in the face herself, staring at her in shock and appall. Alcina looks as though the redhead had just proven a point of hers.

"The porcelain and marble working rooms are soundproof by the way," the professor chimes in, causing the flower shop workers to blush further. Donna tries to compose herself, grip tightening on Valeria's hand.

"Let's... get started on your project," she practically squeaks. Valeria can do nothing but nod dumbly and follow along, doing her best not to embarrass herself or Donna further.

#donna beneviento #donna benevento x reader #resident lover #valeria (maiden oc)#lugosi speaks #my writing #dev team can't just make a casual comment about pet play in game and not expect us donna stans to meow

93 notes · View notes

luvly-writer · 5 months

Text

XOXO💋

Ch. 1: They Don’t Need an Introduction

-•-

Tim Drake x Reader

Fic + Social Media Au

Warnings: none

Series: Ongoing

Author’s note:The last 3 or so chapter of Oh Cara Mia will be coming this winter break. University really is kicking my ass. You may be wondering why i’m posting the new story and the answer is to keep you guys on your toes. I am so excited for this new series and before everything I do want to apologize for a few things. Out of all the boys, Tim is the least I and familiar with so I will be trying to do my absolute best to bring him to justice. Hope you all enjoy this new series!

Please feel free to reblog and comment. I love hearing what you all have to say about the stories I bring you.

Taglist: Since it’s a new story, I will be needing you all to let me know if you would like your be added to the taglist.

Masterlist:

-•-

Youngest of 2 sisters

Bitch with a good heart

Old money

way too intelligent for her own good

plays tennis // tennis partner is Clara

normally is the scandal fixer

ambitious

future CMO to Vanderbilt Hotels

Model

goes to the tennis court for the cute fits and guys

can range from dumb blonde to evil mastermind

walked from VS Angels

Main Scandal creator

New Money and owns it

heart of gold, but her morals are flexible

think Crazy Rich Asians

Gossip Queen

Unhinged

Heiress to Dupont Desings

Only Child

Spoiled but not a brat

Fun Aunt energy

Old money

102 notes · View notes

just-your-casual-nerd · 1 year

Text

Master List Part 2

Note: I did not write any of these fics, I just enjoy reading them, and had a shit load of them saved. So, I figured I would put all of the ones I liked on a master list, figuring that its an easy way to keep track of them, and maybe you guys would like them as well. Have a Great Day fellow Nerds! 😁👋

2nd Note: If Someone wants me to take their fic or another fic off, let me know and it will be done. I don't want to offend anyone or make them upset.

Larrisa Weems:

Punishment By:suckerforcate

Pomegranate Lips pt.2 By: cissyenthusiast010155

Valentines chaos By: littledollll

You Want Some Cheese On That? By: spoilmesweetieforficssake

Love Notes (Ch. 4) By: queerfanfiction

Darling By: v3nusxsky

Dirty Dancer By: spicy-picklez

Winter Getaway By: mandy-asimp

Only Pretending #3 By: Tanith-rhea

A Perfect Fit (NSFW) By: fruitylo0pz

Sleeping Beauty By: spicy-picklez

Beg By: suckerforcate

Professor Weems By: suckerforcate

A Love Like Yours By: cherrysweetdevine

The Neighbor Lady Ch. 3 By: daydream-cement

Love Notes (Ch. 3) By: weemsgay

Dreams, You Say pt. 2 By: cissyenthusiast010155

You make me feel safe (NSFW) By: fruitylo0pz

Compatible (NSFW) By: fruitylo0pz

Worthy of my love By: moodreaderlesbian

Her powerful hands By: cherryapplejuice

Sleepy head By: cherryapplejuice

Drabble By: widowromanova

Sweet Corruption By: cissyenthusiast010155

Temptations Tongue By: marvelnatswhore

Hands By: cherrysweetdevine

Use Me By: cissyenthusiast010155

Tame the beast By: cherrysweetdevine

Work Distraction By: plaguedoctorino

Show Me By: ja-reau

Larissa Weems X Fem Reader By: freakish-ghoul

Corruption pt. 1 By: cursedbambii

Larissa Weems X Reader Headcanon By: poorwritingstaleoffee

Holding Back From You By: thevillianclub

Snow White Hands By: mithril

One Bed By: suckerforcate

The Teacher’s Assistant Part 1 By: thats-my-peach

Take a bite. By: cherrysweetdevine

Favor for Favor By: plaguedoctorino

Challenge (Part 2) By: widowromanova

Screw Your roommate, ill show you a good time By: tanith-rhea

From across the room By: widowromanova

Trying Something New In The Bedroom Chap. 3 By: regalbootie

In The Shadows By: thevillainclub

Magic Kisses By: illegal-heartbreaker

Ablaze By: thevillainclub

Mine By: bagdaddyb

See Me After Class (NSFW) By: wasjustred

Under The Mistletoe By: plaguedoctorino

A Lesson In Trust By: wasjustred

Relationship Headcannons By: realsapphicwife

Its Obvious By: illegal-heartbreaker

Comfort Person (SFW) By: wh0re4women

To People Watch One Person: Part 4. By: rippersz

Words Hurt By: v3nusxsky

Here to help By: littledollll

Comfort me to sleep By: v3nusxsky

Guardian Angel By: queerfanfiction

I need you-fluff By: v3nusxsky

Hot Coco Kisses By: bunniebubbleswrites

Larissa Weems Headcanons By: ladylarissaweems

You’re Not Alone By: Just-your-casual-nerd

What You'll Never Have By: duke-of-poosay

Dinner Mix-Up By: daydream-cement

All These Years Later By: cherrysweetdevine

Don't Go Breaking My Heart By: spoilmesweetueforficssake

You’re Rightful Place| NSFW By: v3nusxsky

Winter Getaway By: mandy-asimp

Dominate Me By: weemssapphic

Stood Up (NSFW) By: milfsloverblog

Her Little Minx By: paulsonwifey

Come Over Tonight (One of my personal Favs) By: moodreaderlesbian

Heaven’s gate By: fadingdaggerr

Only Pretending #7 (I LOVE this series, so good) By: Tanith-rhea

Beautiful One By: littledollll

Hidden Meanings (NSFW) By: v3nusxsky

Cara Mia.... (One of my favs) By: kingpreciouswrld

Cara Mia 1.5? By: kingpreciouswrld

Miranda:

Movie Night (NSFW) By: daydream-cement

Sweet Confession By: Billiedeansbitch

After the movies By: pro-weems-places

Sex and Pancakes (NSFW) By: daydream-cement

Lucifer:

Our forever By: littledollll

#gwendolineuniverse #gwendoline christie x reader #gwendoline christie smut #gwen christie #gwendolyn #gwendoline christie #lucifer gwendoline christie #the sandman lucifer morningstar #lucifer #lucifer morningstar (the sandman) x reader #the sandman lucifer #lucifer sandman #the sandman lucifer morningstar x reader #the sandman lucifer morningstar x reader smut #larissa x reader #principal larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems smut #larissa weems

256 notes · View notes

f1tyreslightmyfyre · 5 months

Text

Immortal Artistry - Ch. 5

Series Main List

A Vampire AU F1 Fic Featuring Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader, George Russell x Fem!Reader, hints of Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader, Lestappen, Sebchal, and Sainzell (or Russainz?)

Also on AO3

Ch. 5 Warnings: Explicit sexual content; language; stalker behavior; abduction; vampire blood violence and thrall; WWII references to Hitler and Nazi regime; non-graphic violence, murder and death

2023

You draft back to consciousness. A soft pillow rests beneath your head. A warm blanket surrounds you. A heavenly mattress cushions you. Blinking your eyes open, you swear that you float on a cloud, except….

The bedroom’s unfamiliar surroundings fill you with immediate dread. Exhaustion gnaws at every muscle, but your fight-or-flight response still engages. Especially as the alarming memories of the coffee shop return in full force - remembering George and his… teeth. Remembering Max just suddenly being there and then… now, you’re here…

If only you knew where here is. The furniture speaks to opulent luxury and exquisite taste, even down to the plush carpet that greets your feet as you sit up. A wave of dizziness makes your head swim as you get your bearings, and your gaze lands on a glass of orange juice sitting on the bedside table.

Orange juice… and not water?

Curiosity compels you to lean forward, hovering your nose over the glass’ contents. The sweet aroma of juicy citrus perfumes the air, and your confusion only grows. Why of all liquids is orange juice resting on the bedside table?

Your ears catch up with the rest of your senses, and you turn towards the cracked bedroom door. The soft, elegant notes of a piano float from somewhere beyond, just barely audible in the silence of the bedroom. Standing up, you draw an uneasy breath as your body feels weak. You have no idea what time it is or when you last ate, but it doesn't appear that you’re locked in, so maybe you can escape.

The door swings wide on a silent hinge, and the hallway beyond matches the same elegant taste as the bedroom. A grand staircase extends from the end of the hallway, and you follow it down on plush carpet as the piano music grows steadily louder.

When your feet touch the marble landing, your stomach drops as you recognize everything about the interior of the opulent, classy main floor. It takes you instantly back to your dream - or fuck, the not dream - the last time that you saw Charles. To when… fuck, was that seriously just last night?

You gasp for breath as the room starts to spin, raising a hand to your head to brace yourself.

The piano music dies as an all-too familiar silky voice calls out. “Careful, cara mia. You should still be resting.”

Drawing a deep breath through your nose and exhaling out your mouth, you force your eyes open only to see… him.

Charles sits on the gleaming white piano bench, turned towards you with a soft, concerned smile. A white dress shirt highlights the lean build of his torso and rolled sleeves showcase the elegant planes of his forearms. Dark suit trousers hug his legs above bare feet, and coupled with the devil-may-care style of his hair… it’s -

No man should be allowed to look so criminally handsome.

You give a bewildered shake of your head. “I don’t… I’m too tired to rest.” Again, you scrub a hand across your forehead and down your face, feeling the ache in your temples increase.

“Did you drink the orange juice?”

You hang your head with a gentle shake. “No - what kind of idiot do you take me for? Drinking an unknown drink when I don’t even know where I am?”

A shadow moves off to your left, and your eyes dart up to suddenly see Charles standing alongside you. How had you not even heard him move? Or heard the scrape of the piano bench against the floor?

“You’ve been through a lot - too much, I suppose. But that just speaks to your strength.” Charles continues softly as a cool, solid hand falls to your shoulder. “That doesn’t mean you should overdo it, though.” He guides you forward, and you can’t summon the strength to resist.

With a sigh, you drop to sit on a cushy couch that has no right to be so inviting. Blinking heavy eyelids up at him, goodness… Charles is stunning. Golden light catches in the waves of his hair and shines in the emeralds of his eyes. He radiates breezy confidence, an oasis of calm in the muddled desert that has become your life.

He gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Will you be alright if I leave you here? I really do think orange juice would help.”

“As long as…” you sigh as you swallow nervously. “Only if you promise it’s not poisoned.”

“I promise it’s not poisoned.” With another gentle squeeze of your shoulder, his touch disappears as he moves away from you. “I don’t have any reason to wish you dead. If I did, you would still be in that coffee shop with George.”

The memories replay in the back of your mind as anxiety clenches your stomach. “Then, why am I here?”

Your question lingers unanswered as Charles disappears for – not even the space of a breath. Your brow furrows at the sudden appearance of a glass of orange juice in his hand, and… okay, maybe your brain is just really too tired to even see straight.

The glass is cold against your fingertips and the pulpy liquid is admittedly refreshing. The sugary liquid hits your empty stomach and a burst of energy warms your stomach.

Charles wears a patient and satisfied expression as you take another hearty drink. “See?” He prompts. “Not poisoned.”

Embarrassed heat rises in your cheeks. “Sorry. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but-”

“I haven’t given you any reason to trust me, and if I were you, I probably wouldn’t, either.” He cuts you off as he joins you on the couch and levels you with a serious stare. “But it’s time to fix that.”

A chill races along your skin, rippling down your spine. Something about him reminds you of George, of that predatory glow in his eyes. Your fingers tighten around the glass as unwanted memory flashes in your mind.

“Were you this frightened for Charles, hmm?” George cooed. “I can’t imagine how he resisted you…”

Your other hand rises to your throat as if to protect it. “… What was George going to do to my neck?”

“Bite you, of course.” Charles answers without pause, his tone light despite the gravity of his words. “I hadn’t wanted to tell you outright what we are. At face value, the truth is quite dismissible – laughable, even. But, well… George saved me the trouble, I suppose.”

You turn to him with wide eyes. “He was going to bite me? With those unnaturally pointed teeth of his? Like, what… like a vamp– ”

The word dies in your throat as Charles’ smile widens to reveal fangs – honest-to-God fangs - of his own. Razor sharp canines that dwarf the surrounding teeth and glint in the golden light like a knife’s edge.

Your mind slams into overdrive as the impossible truth stares you in the face. “That…” you trail off as you struggle to make sense of it. “That’s why you needed the late night meeting… that’s why I’ve only ever seen you at night. And Max, too. And -” You shake your head as you recall every time that you have seen George - in the hours after sunset, in the time before sunrise. “And the… what did you call it? Hypnosis?” You turn back to Charles, thankful to see his fangs hidden away. “That’s your thrall, isn’t it?”

Charles’ gaze sharpens with a shrewd edge. “That’s just one name for it. Bram Stoker didn’t get everything right, but he certainly knew enough.”

You gulp heavily at the implication. “Does that mean I’m under your spell? Or rather, Max’s spell…? That I’m… forced to do his bidding whenever he wants?”

“The effects of our hypnotic hold over mortals is temporary unless there’s a blood exchange. And since he hasn’t bitten you, you two don’t share that connection unless he’s present.”

“So, if George had…” A shuddering breath leaves you as your stomach rots. “If he had bitten me, then I’d now be trapped under his spell?”

“Whether he would have hypnotized you tonight or not, I cannot say - but whenever he chose to, it would be much easier for him to do so. And me - or Max, for that matter - would be unable to help you.”

“Because I would be his?”

Charles nods his head. “Because you would be his.”

Something about that thought… isn’t completely revolting. George, the man - err, vampire - is certainly handsome and quite charming. But it still doesn’t make sense. You take another sip of the orange juice, reaching forward to set the glass down on the coffee table. “But I guess I don’t understand why he would want to make me his. He…”

“But Charles gave it to you.” George pressed. “You have it, don’t you? Xavier didn’t have it.”

Anxiety knots your stomach as you turn back to Charles, glimpsing the glittering light dancing in his green eyes. “George asked me if you gave me something. Something that Xavier didn’t have.” Your gaze narrows pointedly. “He was talking about my boss, right? Were you supposed to give him something that night, but you met with me instead?”

Charles’ gaze hardens. “Xavi already knew what I had to give him, and I knew that my meeting wasn’t with him.”

“Then, are you able to tell George that I don’t have it? Whatever it is… then he can leave me alone, and you two can sort it out.”

Charles’ soft chuckle cracks a smile on his face. “I’m afraid the game is far too old for that. We each have our chess pieces and we play them as opportunity allows.” His eyes narrow in open assessment, heat growing on your skin as he looks you up and down. “He was trying to make you into his own personal chess piece, but fortunately, Max has been keeping a close eye on you.”

“Is that meant to be reassuring?” You scoff. “You say that George wants to turn me into his chess piece - well, how do I know that you and Max aren’t trying to do the same?”

“Who says we aren’t?”

Your blood runs cold as shivers ripple down your spine. You stare back, wide-eyed and stunned as your mouth goes dry. “So, you’re… you’re going to… bite me?”

“It’s the offer on the table.” Charles says with a business-like calm. “If George is convinced of some fact and wants you on his side - with or without your permission - then, Max thought we would offer you the choice.”

You gulp, glancing around the expansive room. “And is he here? Max…?”

A private smile curls the corner of Charles’ mouth. “He’s never too far away.”

Nothing about that is anymore comforting, and you take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “Okay… so, according to you - I have two options: join George’s team or join your team?”

“If you must simplify it so plainly, then yes.”

“Then, why don’t you explain it to me?”

Charles arches a defiant brow. “Do you really think that would make you safer?”

“Do you think it would place me in any more danger?” You shake your head sharply with another scoff. “I don’t have the first fucking clue about any of this and already I’ve met three vampires - possibly more - and one of them has attacked me, while another one has hypnotized me, and now, you’re… you’re…”

You don’t know what exactly. Your thoughts are too jumbled and Charles isn’t speaking clearly enough for you to piece the big picture together.

“I really thought you were smarter than that.” George urged. “Smart enough to see through him… to see that what he’s doing is just wrong.”

With another deep breath, you swallow your rising anxiety. “How do I know your team is the right one to join, hmm?” You arch a challenging brow. “How do I know that you’re not the villain in this game of chess?”

The look in Charles’ eyes suddenly ages him decades older than his youthful countenance. “Heroes and villains are constructs of the mortal world, cara mia. Fanciful concepts to paint the world in white and black, and right and wrong.” He pauses as a wickedly tempting smile lights his face. “But immortality offers a world of grey and endless opportunity to make your way.”

“That doesn’t exactly help your case, you know.”

“I know, and I’m not trying to build a case.” He nods towards you. “Whether or not you like it, or whether or not you know why, you’re caught in the middle. And if you want control of the choice, then you will make it tonight.”

Frustration tightens the line of your jaw. “Then why don’t you just tell me what I’m caught in the middle of, and then I can make an informed decision.”

“I fear telling you outright would only raise suspicion. Especially if you are, as of yet… unclaimed.”

You arch a brow as your stomach drops to your feet. “Unclaimed…? You said nothing about claiming me.”

“It’s, err - maybe not the best choice of word.” A sheepish look flashes across his face. “But after a blood exchange, our hypnotic hold intensifies and…evolves. It forms a sort-of mental connection between us and our chosen thrall, but the thrall is not completely independent of free-will. It’s…” He trails off with a sigh and another sheepish grin. “It’s not easy to explain, actually.”

You stare at him, still unable to believe it. “How… how long have you been alive?”

“I’ve been undead since 1940.”

“1940…? Shit, that’s… World War II.”

Slowly, he nods. “Yes, it was.”

“Did you fight?”

His gaze finds yours, mesmerizing and keen. “Quite personal questions, don’t you think?”

You shrug gently. “You said it was time to change the fact that I don’t trust you. If George was going to just… take me in that coffee shop tonight, then maybe you… you can just give it to me, instead? If that makes sense…?”

Something sparks in Charles’ eyes, and really… it’s fucking unfair how edible he looks. His tongue darts out to wet his top lip and you’re helpless not to follow the motion. “I did fight,” he starts softly. “Monaco - still my home, even then - remained neutral throughout the war, but 800 men were mobilized in support of French forces when war broke out in 1939.” He pauses as his eyes gloss over with distant memory. “By May 1940, the Nazis were sweeping the continent and our forces had nowhere to go except for Dunkirk.”

Your breath catches. “Dunkirk…? The Dunkirk evacuation?” It sounds too unreal to possibly be real. “You were there?”

“I never made it that far.” Charles says with a short shake of his head. “My sire found me in the woods as we marched towards the coast. I suppose you could say he saved me the trouble of worrying about a boat ride when he transformed me.”

“Is that what you call it?” You wave a hand as if the motion somehow captures everything about Charles’ words. “When you turn into a… vampire? A transformation?”

“That, too, has many names - but that is what I prefer to call it.”

Again, your hand rises to your neck in a protective gesture and your thumb sweeps over your pulse. “Were you given the choice? By your - what did you call him - sire?”

The corner of Charles’ mouth tightens. “No, I wasn’t. And no - I won’t explain his reasoning.”

“I wasn’t going to ask. That just seems…” You’re not sure exactly what to say. It seems wrong that Charles wasn’t given a choice on whether to become immortal or not. But, then again, how do you actually answer a question like that? Either way, it’s far too personal to ever be any of your business.

Silence stretches between you, and thankfully, he doesn’t press you. Why would he? The man - the vampire - literally has forever to wait. You, on the other hand… fuck, you still have to go to work tomorrow. You still don’t have a boss, you still don’t have a clue what Charles was supposed to give Xavier that George wants, and… you don’t even have a clue how late it is.

You turn back towards Charles. “If you bite me - if I let you - what do I get out of it?” Even as the words leave your tongue, they still sound impossibly ridiculous. Vampires just aren’t real… yet you can’t deny all the proof before your eyes.

“A fair question.” Charles acknowledges. “I suppose you could call it protection… or, at least, subliminal awareness of each other. A connection that could alert me to your distress or future danger. A connection that could lead me to where you are, in case you’re captured.��

The orange juice roils in your gut. “None of that sounds reassuring.”

“No?” He echoes even as the corner of his mouth lifts. “Nothing reassuring about having me as your own personal guardian angel?”

“Not if that also turns me into a piece on your chessboard.”

“Then, it doesn’t have to be me.” His smile widens with a teasing, suggestive slant. “As I recall, you were indeed quite taken with Max.”

Your cheeks heat with an embarrassed flush, especially since you’re not able to conjure any concrete memory of being ‘quite taken’ with Max. Just what exactly had you done? Or what had you said? “I don’t… that’s not…” You struggle for words, hoping it’s not obvious to him. “You… or him - that’s not the -”

“Or it could be both of us.”

Unwanted thoughts flood your brain. Dear Lord, what would it be to have the two of them together? Images of a cliche dark room, four-poster bed and blood-red sheets dance in your mind. Tangles of lean hips and strong arms, thick brunette curls and lush sandy locks surround you as you’re caught in the push and pull between them. Rivulets of blood decorate your skin, weeping from matching puncture wounds as they own your body, inside and out.

A different heat stirs in your blood - a demanding heat that gathers between your legs, unstoppable even in the face of life-threatening danger and utter confusion.

Charles purrs low in his throat. “Exquisite, cara mia.”

Mortified heat burns your cheeks. “No, no - I don’t-”

“Your lying words cannot mask the scent of your blood.” He pauses to draw a deliberate, deep inhale. “And yours heats with such… delectable promise.”

“It’s nothing, it’s - “ You cut yourself off as another thought dawns. “Do you not wish that I was more scared? I thought… well, George made it sound like fear… was the most delicious?”

A low, throaty chuckle rumbles in Charles’ chest. “I suppose it depends on one’s preference. If you liken fear to dark chocolate and desire to a lush fruit - they both can make for an exquisite treat while being quite different.”

“And your preference?” Your words come far breathier than you would like as your heart gallops.

Charles’ eyes darken as his smile widens. “If I wanted you scared,” he says carefully as he slowly raises a hand, brushing a knuckle down the outside of your arm in a gentle caress. “We would be having a much different conversation.”

His touch speaks to the traitorous arousal curling at the base of your spine, and god… why is this so hard? You force a swallow down your dry throat. “So, you w-would rather…”

“I would rather have you melting in my lap, whimpering with desire, and soaking through my trousers,” his voice doesn’t falter as he holds you with a gaze that leaves no room for doubt. “If you choose me, that is.”

“A-and Max…?” You manage to say around your heavy breathing. “H-he wouldn’t mind if you… if we-”

“Max is indeed very special to me - more so than any mortal. But he and I are not…” Charles trails off as a predatory gleam sharpens his enticing smirk. “Exclusive.”

Fuck, that does absolutely nothing to help. Your body continues to run away from the protests of your mind, not helped by the teasing caress of his nimble fingers. A shiver ripples across your skin as you fight for clarity. “You’re not playing fair.”

Another delicious chuckle sounds in Charles’ throat. “No, I’m not, am I? One is never too old - or undead - to not press their advantage.” His hand turns against your arm and his fingertips brush the exposed skin of your forearm. A shuddering sigh passes your lips as his chilly touch races more shivers through you. Your thighs clench together with aching need, unable to understand the strong reaction of your body.

Your breath catches in your throat as the sofa dips under his shifting weight. The heady weight of his thigh brushes yours, and an intoxicating scent reaches your nose… fucking fuck, why does he have to smell so good? You want to chase the spicy, woodsy scent across his skin, to breathe it deep in your lungs. Your eyes drop closed as it invades your senses, further fogging your brain.

Charles’ fingers dance around your wrist, stroking the thin, tender skin covering the major blood vessels beneath. “You still have a choice, cara mia.” His voice washes over you like rich syrup. “You just need to tell me what you want.”

Whatever resistance your mind can summon drowns under the urgent rush of blood pounding in your ears, and… at least, this is on your terms. Mostly. With a trembling breath, you slowly nod. “Y-yes… alright.”

He growls low in approval. “I’m honored, cara mia.” He gives your wrist a gentle squeeze before threading his fingers over the back of your hand and interlacing them together.

You squeeze his hand, finding more reassurance in his touch than you ever expected despite the chilly temperature of his skin. Again, he shifts closer to you, and your heart races as he looms over you - so controlled, so dark, so fucking gorgeous.

“Breathe for me,” he whispers in a velvet pur. “Just breathe.”

You draw a deep breath, trying to steady the pounding of your heart. Can he hear it? Does he know how it threatens to beat out of your chest?

The cool press of his nose against your cheek makes you gasp and involuntarily arch into his touch. Every part of your body responds to his close presence and cries out for more, so much more.

“That’s it,” he coos, nuzzling down the line of your jaw as you helplessly tilt your head. “You are such a treasure.”

A whimper passes your lips as you drown under his voice. His lips dance along the column of your throat and you squeeze his hand, rewarded when he tightens his grip in response.

His teeth slice through your skin like butter. The sharp, invasive pain lances through you and a gasping cry lodges in your throat. His lips seal around the wounds, and pleasure slams through you as he draws your blood. Your body twitches against the couch in desperate need, moaning with abandon as mindless euphoria overtakes you. You cling tight to his hand, lost to everything that floods your body as he takes another long, slow drink. Your other hand finds the silky locks of his hair, holding him close, grasping for contact - for leverage to get your body closer to his.

The piercing sting of his teeth withdraws and a needy whimper pitches high in your throat. A bereft sense of loss spreads through you, and you cling tighter to him, trying to chase that delicious high. His tongue finds your skin, dragging over the twin punctures with solid, steady strokes that do nothing to quell the inferno raging inside you.

You don’t recognize the sound of your own ragged breathing as he continues to lick and nuzzle at your skin. You also don’t recognize the light-headed dizziness that dances in your head, nor how you seem to be floating six feet above the couch. Or, at least, that’s what it feels like.

And you haven’t even orgasmed. Or, at least, you don’t think so.

Charles gives your hand a gentle squeeze as it relaxes in his grip. “Thank you, cara mia.” He nuzzles your jaw with a satisfied hum. “I don’t think you’ll regret your decision.”

“Wha…” The word dies on your tongue, slurred as you struggle to think through the sensations overloading your body.

Charles shushes you gently, pressing a wet, sticky kiss to your cheek. “You should rest. I understand the first time is… quite intense.” Another press of his lips follows as your eyelids grow heavy and darkness cuts the corners of your mind. “That’s it, cara mia. Rest now, and I’ll see to it that you get home.”

1944

The sounds of the cavern deafen him. Max still isn’t used to his heightened hearing and each drip of water, each scrape of pebbles against stone, each whistle of wind grates on his nerves. He doesn’t consider patience to be one of his strengths, but at least, he doesn’t need a torch in this godforsaken underground labyrinth.

“There’s nothing here, Charles.” He says without preamble as they take in the dark stone surroundings. “The soldier lied to us.”

“Can you blame him?” Charles counters, unbothered by Max’s irritation. His smile still glints in the damp darkness and his eyes glow with the thrill of exploration. Max can’t explain why Charles’ breathtaking beauty continues to stun him, but he finds himself falling all over again. Charles blinks down to the ground, scuffing at a small puddle as he continues. “I’m glad there is nothing stored here, though. This humid environment would be terrible for the artwork.”

Max snorts before he can stop himself. “It’s remarkable how much you care - actually care - about the artwork.”

“It’s clear the Nazis only see it as a means to an end, or a bargaining chip.” Charles says, his voice echoing off the stone cave. “Just because we haven't heard of them ransoming treasures doesn’t mean that it’s not happening.”

“Why ransom when they can just sell?” Max scoffs. “Or take it for free and turn a profit? Nothing has stopped them yet.”

“Nor will it.” Charles agrees as he looks back over at Max in the darkness. “Not until they consume everything worth consuming.”

Dripping water echoes off the stone walls and cold humidity eats at their skin, but when Charles holds him with such a tender gaze, Max finds it hard to care about anything else. His feet crunch against loose stone and earth as he steps close to Charles and wraps his chilled fingers in a gentle handhold. “Is it a bad joke to say that your fingers feel as cold as death?”

The corner of Charles’ mouth ticks up. “That is most definitely a bad joke, but we are undead men together so that shouldn’t bother you.”

“I never said it did.” Max gives Charles’ hand a squeeze as he hums low in his throat. “In fact, quite the opposite. It’s hard to steal time away with you, you know.”

An endearingly modest smile takes over Charles’ face. “There is a war going on, you know? Even for immortals, opportunity waits for no one.”

Max nearly rolls his eyes. “You sound like Seb.”

“Perhaps you should learn to listen better to him.” Charles’ voice drops to a silky, deliberately teasing register. “We both owe him a lot.”

“I don’t owe him shit.” Max says, raising his other hand to Charles’ chin and pressing against the delicate skin to raise the other man’s head. “When I lay there dying - when I begged for help - you were the only one. Not any of those soldiers, not Seb - you.”

“I’m still sorry that I couldn’t give you the choice.”

“Stop apologizing for that. I asked for help and you helped - simple as that.”

Fond appreciation warms Charles’ mesmerizing eyes before he leans it and effortlessly slots his mouth to Max’s. The kiss transcends words, stirring the passion and possession that overtakes them both during stolen moments together. Arousal heats Max’s frigid veins as Charles’ tongue pries at the seam of his lips and their embrace deepens. A low growl pitches in Max’s throat as they devour each other.

Opportunity may wait for no one, but surely Max can take time to press Charles against the uneven stone, to hear his ragged moans echo in the cavern, to let their bodies chase pleasure together in the dark underground.

An answering growl stirs in Charles’ chest and Max abandons Charles’ chin to skim his fingers down the pale column of his neck. He rolls his hips forward, pressing them tight to Charles with shameless abandon. “Let me have you,” Max breathes into Charles’ mouth. “Let me fuck you raw.”

“Oh, fuck,” Charles gasps as his hips match Max’s with an answering thrust. “That would feel so good right now.”

“Better than good.” Max murmurs, nipping along Charles’ lips. “I’ll make you-”

“There’s something happening on the road.” Seb’s voice echoes in the stone chamber, slicing through the lustful fog. “Get out here. Now.”

Frustration stabs Max in the chest, but once he separates from Charles, he can understand that this isn’t necessarily the most appropriate moment. But, dammit, they’ve been searching the cavernous underworld beneath the multitude of mountain ranges in the Northern Limestone Alps for weeks now. Each major retreat of Nazi squadrons narrows the search. Each desperate attempt by men on the losing side to thwart the forward advance of the victors yields more clues.

They’re so close to the Nazi central storage location, Max can almost taste it.

In the moment, though, he only has the fading memory of Charles’ kiss lingering on his tongue as they navigate their way out of the cave. If the diehard Nazi troops in the region are stirring up a scene at this late hour, then it must truly be something noteworthy.

The glow of moonlight blinds him for an instant as his eyes adjust and he surveys the scene on the road. A truck trundles along the rutted path without headlights, but the glow of one lone torch hangs out the passenger window. Usually, the Nazi troops don’t try to hide their presence - with a string of labor camps near Ebensee and confirmed rumors of Nazi stockpiles near Totes Gebirge - they all but own the surrounding Salzkammergut Mountains. However, the men in this truck clearly don’t wish to be seen - even by their own kind.

Charles crouches low, squinting into the distance. “Now where could they possibly be going at this hour?”

Seb tilts his head as he stares at the truck. “Somewhere they don’t want anyone to see.”

“Then, they shouldn’t use a truck.” Max says with a shake of his head. “They’d be less conspicuous on foot.”

“This road is so rural,” Seb counters. “There’s no one that they would expect to find here.”

Charles’ smirk gleams in the moonlight. “Except us.”

Max matches his smirk. “Unlucky bastards.”

They move in the night, swift as shadows and just as silent. Of all his heightened vampiric senses, the supernatural strength and agility that infused his muscles has to be Max’s favorite. While the sharpened vision and enhanced hearing are useful, when it comes to trailing their Nazi quarry… well, Max takes every advantage that he can get.

It’s only when they close the distance, easily close enough to strike, that Seb comes to a deliberate stop. A stab of confused disappointment lances through Max as he stops in tandem silence with Charles, both glancing towards the older vampire. He doesn’t use words, but none of them need to.

The soldiers tell their own story as they cluster around the shrouded, rocky outcropping at the base of the mountains. Seb calls this range Totes Gebirge - Dead Mountains - and Max has to agree it’s aptly fitting. The jagged, rocky surroundings support almost no vegetation and honestly, it’s going to be a suitable grave for these soon-to-be dead men.

Between the atrocities he witnessed at home and the inhumane horrors of the Nazi camps, Max has no qualms about dispatching anyone who wears the swastika. And the longer he watches the group of six men stand around the rocks, the more his frustration grows.

Seb turns towards him, silently raising a hand - a sign to stay calm, to hold position. Max may never have been a soldier given the Netherlands’ neutrality, but his time in the Resistance taught him plenty. He grits his teeth, running his thumb over the round, knobbed end of the spike dagger in his pocket. Despite the prowess of his physical strength and sharp teeth, he’s never broken the habit of relying on his dagger for the dirty work often required in spycraft.

Like Seb, he turns his attention back to the soldiers, watching as three of them turn and disappear into the shadows of the mountain… into a cave, he realizes. The situation turns more curious as voices raise in clear disagreement, in clear alarm and anger. When the men return, two of them labor under a heavy load. Their backs stoop low as they manhandle a long, curved tube, a tube… outfitted with aerial fins.

Charles’ near silent gasp reaches his ears as realization hits him, too. It’s an aircraft bomb. Is this some secret Nazi weapon stockpile? Or are these men thieves in the night? It seems hard to believe such a small detachment would be out so late for an official supply run. Especially in a truck with no headlights.

Seb’s fangs flash in the night, and the reasons for the soldiers’ presence hardly matters. He leads the stealthy charge forward, and Max follows with an eager willingness to spring into action. His spike dagger whispers in the darkness as the sharp end finds soft flesh and the solid knobbed end meets delicate skulls.

As the last body falls and silence reigns supreme, it’s honestly annoying how loud humans are without even trying. Slipping the spike dagger back in his pocket, Max nudges one of the dead soldiers out of the way and crouches down to study the missile. Up close, the weapon’s precisely crafted shape betrays its true, lethal purpose. He shakes his head, knocking a knuckle against the metal casing with a dull metallic thud. “An airplane bomb,” he says, glancing up into the cave’s crudely-formed, dark opening. “How many more do you suppose they have in there?”

Despite the rocky ground and loose pebbles, Charles moves on near-silent footsteps. “Only one way to find out. Though, why would they store such arms here and not in a depot… there’s not an airfield within kilometers of here. Nor a factory.”

“Animals on the run grow desperate,” Seb says as he studies the mouth of the cave opening. “And they seldom use logic. With the Allied advance bearing down on them, I don’t doubt that they’re hiding what they can wherever they can, even if there’s no rationale to it.”

Max pushes to his feet. “If this is really where they’re storing missiles, then it hardly seems efficient to have such a small crew carry them out one by one.”

“And in the dead of the night,” Charles continues. “In a vehicle where they refused to use the headlights… perhaps they were planning a secret bombing run?”

Seb snorts as he ducks to enter the opening and his voice echoes off stone. “That sounds too fantastical for the Nazis. Soldiers stealing bombs and planes in an act of sedition.”

Affront wrinkles Charles’ brow as Max walks to the opening and crouches down to follow Seb inside. “Well, what else would you call it?” Charles continues as he crouches down next to Max’s side. “Taking just one missile won’t change the course of war, non - but dropping just one bomb? The right bomb, on the right target could disrupt, demoralize, deorganize...”

Seb chuckles softly as the dark stone interior closes around them and the air grows stale. “By that logic, we should take that bomb and drop it on Hitler ourselves, yes?”

“Then, why don’t we?” Max hears himself answer as faint light glistens in mineral crystals as they descend the subterranean tunnel. “That’s what I’ve said since the beginning - there’s nothing stopping us from just getting close and hitting him and his men in the dead of night. Let’s end this now.”

“It’s never that simple.” Seb counters with a scolding shake of his head. “Exposing our kind to the world like that… for the humans, ignorance is bliss. And we are the guardians of the truth’s ugliness.”

The air grows heavy with briny salt as they move deeper into the mountain, boots crunching against the hard rock. Charles hums low in his throat. “The price of immortality, non?”

Truthfully, Max has little patience when Charles and Seb wax poetically about the state of mortals and immortals. Despite whatever philosophical ideas they entertain about truth and beauty and everything between - it changes nothing about the here and now. It bends none of the rules that Max supposedly has to follow. It alters nothing about the state of his undead existence or the fate of mortals who wage their horrendous war and steadily march towards self-destruction.

The ground slopes away, suddenly steeper under his feet, and distracts his focus. They brace against the rocky, jagged walls, slowing their steps as they approach a wall… a wall where the tunnel ends? Or perhaps it continues through the narrow, carved opening.

Max eyes the opening in the wall ahead cautiously. “I don’t like that this is beginning to feel like a trap.”

“A trap makes no sense,” Seb rationalizes, crouching down to study the dramatically shorter tunnel opening. “Why would the Nazis trap themselves, hmm?”

“Why wouldn’t they plant booby traps to keep others out, hmm?” Max counters sharply. “Perhaps that’s what that bomb was, yeah? Protecting something else that they didn’t want others to discover?”

Charles’ eyes brighten with intrigue. “And why not? The salt in the air creates a much more stable environment for storage. Perhaps this is a hidden weapons depot or a… a treasure storage.”

“Only one way to find out.” Seb braces a hand against the shorter tunnel opening and moves forward, knees bent and back hunched as he disappears into the darkness.

Max wets his top lip impatiently. “How long does it look, Seb?”

A beat of silence passes with only a faint whistle of wind for company. His brow furrows with immediate concern. “Seb?” He calls out again, staring down at the tunnel opening as if willing the older vampire to emerge.

Charles’ voice mimics his concern. “Seb? Is everything all right?” He kneels down, squinting into the opening and tilting his head with sudden curiosity. “Seb just… what is it?”

Max crouches down, needing to see for himself - and discovering that the new tunnel was more just a narrow opening in the rock. Seb blocks the other side, clearly stunned and frozen by whatever sight lays on the other side.

“Scheiße,” Seb breathes, his voice low. “This is… I just… I can’t believe what I’m looking at.”

Both Charles and Max scramble for the tunnel entrance at the same time, and Charles squeezes in ahead of him. He pushes gently at Seb’s back, and the blonde vampire moves to let Charles come through with Max right behind him. Perched on a gently sloping ledge, an expansive salt cavern extends in front of them - something clearly mined by humans, something still occupied by humans.

Or at least, human treasure.

Crates upon crates, boxes upon boxes, stacks upon stacks, and piles upon piles of cultural riches lay before them. Artwork, books, statues, illustrations, tapestries - all hidden away from the world and ripe for discovery. Max doesn’t register his jaw dropping as he scans the sea of priceless treasures in front of him.

Is this it? Is this what they’ve been searching for?

Charles lets out a breathless, incredulous laugh. “Mamma mia… there’s so much here! I don’t.. I don’t even know where to begin!” He runs a hand through his hair, wetting his top lip with eager excitement.

Seb shakes his head. “Perhaps you were right, Max,” he muses, glancing over with a fond smile. “Perhaps they were going to booby trap that entrance. Or perhaps they were just going to detonate anyway and forever bury this hoard of cultural wealth.”

“I have to get down there.” Charles says, turning his gaze towards the ledge and testing his footing on the descent. “We can’t just let this all go to waste.”

“We won’t.” Max agrees, following Charles into action and securing a handhold to work down the ledge. “If only the Nazis know this is here, we have the advantage. We can do as we please.”

Seb’s smile curls in the darkness as he follows them down to the collection of artwork that will forever change their undead existence. “And we certainly will.”

Series Main List

Tag List: @fictional-l0v3r @hollie911

53 notes · View notes

joestvr · 4 months

Text

༺✮ atashi no kimyona jinsei // あたしの奇妙な人生 ✮༻

༺✮ summary: five years after the fall of diavolo, you, y/n romano, who was sent away to japan at 11 to further your studies—find the courage to come back to naples after living out your schoolgirl & gaijin university student facade in morio-chou to see how your clan’s worsened—as well as become the “donna” of your father’s gang, il terrore, while your older brother is the real leader behind the scenes, just using you as a front. with plans to murder your clan, you seek the particularly handsome young don of passione for friendship. with your tyrant father’s intervention, your friendship with the don turns to something you never saw coming.

★ 1 // il terrore

★ 2 // bella

★ 3 // viva romano

★ 4 // morte al romano

★ 5 // sorellina

★ 6 // amore

cw: it gets kinda dark this chapter💀self harm(cheri lady telling y/n to do it😭😭), y/n being delusional, bloodlust, thoughts of murder, and heavy overthinking ~

5 days later

This evening, your father was coming to have a talk with you.

You were planning on killing him, of course.

You glanced at your watch, waiting by the door. 5:02.

The doorbell rang. You answered and saw your father... and Alexander?

"Father. Alexander." You forced a smile, letting them inside.

You told them to wait in the living room while you made tea.

As you made the tea, sweat trickling down the side of your face, your hands trembling, your pupils the size of pinpoints.

It was Alexander, he was preventing this.

Should you even have told him?

But you weren't going to kill just your father. You were going to take out the entire Romano clan. You needed to. They were a poison to Italy. They were too powerful.

Could Alexander have figured it out?

You had a million different stories coming up in your head, trying not to fall into delusion and struggling to separate fantasy from reality.

You being the woman leader of Il Terrore... Just a front-- A cover up that your father wanted you to believe. It was all Alexander anyway, he was the real Don. He could easily remove you from his plans for the clan. But he didn't know that you knew the truth... Right?

You brought the teapot and cups on a silver tray, setting it down and pouring the tea into cups for them.

"So what did you want to talk about, Father?" You asked.

"You've come to the age where you require a partner and someone to assist you with our gang activities, Y/n." Your father said, taking a sip of tea then taking a cigar out of his breast pocket and lighting it.

"Wh-What do you mean, Father?" You replied nervously.

A large cloud of smoke exited his mouth. "What I'm saying is it's time for you to get married and settle down already."

Your heart was beating in your ears.

Your hands were shaking.

You felt like you were going to pass out.

The room twisted in your vision, your mind wanting to turn to delusion.

"N-No--" You laughed, "I'm only twenty."

"Mia bella sorellina, mia cara, cuore mio," Alexander said desperately, frowning, "Please just consider this. It's a Romano tradition."

"No." You laughed again, "I'm not a Romano. I'm not like any of you. The only thing we share is a last name."

"Y/n, since you're so eager to not be a part of this clan anymore, you are going to be betrothed to Giorno Giovanna, the Don of Passione."

What? What?

"A-Are you serious?" You breathed out.

"I already know you went without asking for permission and made friends with him, so this is what you get for going behind my back. " Your father said.

What?

"Che cazzo fai, padre?" What the fuck are you doing, father? You muttered weakly.

"This is your fate. You two will be perfect together and will make a perfect heir."

What?

"Perché, padre? Ch-Che cosa ho fatto di sbagri—sbagliato?" Why, Father? What did I do wrong? You cried out, stumbling over your words in Italian after so long of only speaking Japanese and English.

"Look at you, you've forgotten your family, your culture, your values, and now your language! How much of a useless tramp are you?!" He yelled angrily.

You opened your mouth to argue back, but he was quick to raise his hand against you and slap you to keep you quiet.

"Cagna stupida." Stupid bitch. He spat angrily then stood up, walking out.

You were stunned.

You were seconds away from turning to your fantasy of a perfect life and ignoring your surroundings.

You were disassociating, but you were too shocked to fully comprehend it. You started to pick at the skin on your hand.

Tears formed in your eyes. A smile crept up on your lips. You bit on your lip until it bled, holding back laughter.

"Y/n.. Mia cara sorellina..." Alexander began guiltily.

"Che cazzo, Alessandro? You knew, didn't you?" You said, fighting a grin.

"Listen to me, Y/n, I was going to tell you—"

You burst out laughing at that, turning hysterical beyond control.

"I shouldn't have told you anything! You planned this."You exclaimed humorously.

"Oh, of course all the blame comes onto me!" He stood up and shouted.

"You are such a weak bastard! I don't mean anything to you! I never have!" You replied, still laughing as tears ran down your cheeks.

He grew furious at that. "Why, you ungrateful little girl! Don't forget what I did for you while Father was too busy drinking and smoking at the bar all day! Don't forget how I pushed my grief aside after Mom died to take care of YOU!"

You sniffled. "Stop fucking lying, Alessandro! Don't forget how you supported father's decision to send me away when I was 11! I've only been back here twice since then, and the last time we saw each other I was 15!"

"Fuck, Y/n, you're such a brat... You're just like a little kid... You're a grown woman, for fuck's sake! Act your age!" Your older brother struggled to stay calm.

"Get the fuck out of here! I don't have time to deal with your multiple personalities." You scowled.

"As you wish, sorellina." He complied bitterly and left, slamming the door shut.

You were burning with anger, furious. You grabbed a tissue and wiped the running mascara off your face.

"I should kill him too..." You murmured to yourself, while intrusive thoughts started to fill your mind. Your hand twitched, genuinely wanting to murder him in that moment.

You were about to light a cigarette when you heard a familiar young voice call out your name, "Y/n?"

Leo walked into the room where you were sitting with a disappointed expression, scarily resembling Alexander. You were a bit afraid since he was already 190cm, just 3cm away from being the same as his father.

You flinched and took the cigarette out of your mouth. "Yes, Leo?"

"What the fuck are you arguing with my dad about? So much yelling." Leo responded, his voice almost as harsh as Alexander's always was to you.

"I-I'm sorry, sweetheart, I didn't know you were still home. I thought you went with your mother and Elena?" You mustered out nervously.

"I was playing video games. What did Dad say?" He said.

"Don't worry about it." You shook your head.

"Y/n..."

"Leonardo, I'm not in the mood." You responded back authoritatively.

"Fine. Sorry. Can I go to my friend's house while Mama and Dad are gone?"

"No," You furrowed your eyebrows, "Don't you need to study?"

"You're not my mom. Who are you to tell me what to do?" Before you could make another remark, he scowled just like Alexander and went out the front door, slamming it shut.

You were dizzy and lightheaded from everything that just happened, and sat down on the sofa, becoming riddled with anxiety.

"Kusso..." You muttered to yourself, extremely anxious, picking at your fingers and hands, "I'm being betrothed to the son of Dio... What will Jotaro-san think? Koichi-kun? Josuke-kun? Shit..."

"Kusso... Should I even tell Jotaro-san? Just seven years ago we were dealing with remnants of Dio... I don't want to bother him... He's probably working... Fuck..." You were overwhelmed with anxiety and muttering to yourself like a crazy person.

What will you do? Get engaged? Or take out your clan first?

Once again, you were struggling to separate delusion from reality and you had different scenarios coming up in your head that made you feel schizophrenic. You were delirious.

Without even noticing, your fingers became bloody from picking at them, along with the backs of your hands, old wounds opening up on your palms from past self infliction.

You felt yourself wanting to see more blood. A smile crept up against your lips as you gnawed on your lower lip. You hadn't felt this bloodthirsty since Kira Yoshikage.

You stood up to get the first aid kit in the kitchen, catching a glance at the knives, making you stop and stare.

"Do it." Cheri Lady mocked.

"Come on, Y/n, your palms aren't bloody enough, right? It'll be just like old times." She smirked.

Without hesitation, before you knew it, you were staring at the bloody gash across your left palm with a sullen smile on your face. It hurt so good.

Watching the blood gush out of your fragile hands, you loved it.

Drip, drip, drip. You wanted more. The kitchen sink below your hand was red from your blood.

You chuckled breathlessly, feeling a lightheaded, dizzy rush overwhelm your body, then sighed with petty satisfaction.

You were about to cut your wrist, a no-no spot for you because it scarred badly and told everyone that you cut yourself on purpose but you hesitated.

"Alright, that's enough, Y/n." Alima's voice startled you, making you snap out of your daze and drop the bloodied knife in the sink, making a loud sound.

"Sh-Shit, Alima—"

"How much longer are you going to keep doing this to yourself, Y/n?! What if one of my children came home and saw this?!" She burst out, making you stand there with shock. Alima never yelled at you.

"Or, God forbid, your brother walked in and saw you doing this? By God, Y/n, Alexander would slap you so hard you would forget ever losing your sense like this!" Her voice broke as tears welled up in her eyes. You suddenly felt a tiny sliver of remorse.

After all these years of your family betraying and destroying your feelings, Alima was the only one who truly cared about you. She had nothing but love for you.

Your heart was in emotional turmoil. "Alima, I..."

She approached you and gasped at all the blood that was pouring into the sink from the deep wound on your palm. Tears started to run down her face and it hurt to see her so horrified from your selfish pleasure.

"I wish I knew how to help you... Please stop doing this, Y/n..." She wept, shaking her head.

"Alima, don't cry." You murmured calmly, your sanity returning.

You took a deep breath, the pain from the wound feeling unbearable, but you enjoyed it at the same time, feeling high off of your blood loss. You were in guilty bliss.

"Doesn't it hurt, Y/n? How can you keep living like this?" She sobbed, breathing shakily.

"Please, Alima, stop crying. I'm sorry you had to see me like this." You responded, a blank expression on your face. She shook her head and sat down at the dinner table, covering her face while she cried.

"Alima," You sat down in front of her and tried to moved her hands from her face, which made her jerk away.

"I can't even look at your face..." She sobbed, "Every time I look at you, I can only see the little girl who begged me not to marry her big brother because he was mean... You're still just a child to me..."

Pain flashed across your face, but not from your throbbing wound. She still thought of you like that? It had been sixteen years since she married your brother.

"I'm going to take a shower." You mumbled numbly and went upstairs.

As you stepped in the shower, the hot water making the pain from your cut unbearable, watching lightheadedly as the reddened water swirled around the drain.

You began to question why you came back to Naples in the first place.

Why did I come back here?

What was my goal?

I should have known.

When you returned to Naples in 2001, you were targeted by Diavolo for your knowledge of his whereabouts and somehow escaped with your life because of your stand. You packed your bags and ran back to Morioh as fast as you could to continue your typical-schoolgirl facade and forget about everything that happened.

What will the Don think? A wife who gets so immersed at the sight of blood, who craves it so much she cuts herself?

I should have stayed in Japan. I could have become a resident at a high ranking hospital or even a model. I'm too beautiful for this.

The gem of the Romano Clan: Married off to the Don of Passione... I could have gone to America and been dating Hollywood stars... I'm so beautiful...

Your mind was going in circles, and you were quite literally spiraling in your arrogance. You were about to pass out but caught yourself and got out of the shower quickly.

After getting dressed and going back downstairs to the kitchen, you went to a nearby cabinet containing medical supplies and grabbed a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a roll of bandages.

Alima was still sitting at the table with her hands over her face.

"Alima, I hope you're not still crying." You said softly as you went to sit down across from her and prepare a cotton ball with rubbing alcohol on it.

You pressed the cotton ball to your wound and it stung so bad, you had to smile.

"Stop that, Y/n!" She suddenly yelled with a shaky voice, making you jump.

You didn't respond and finished cleaning up the wound, wrapping the bandages tightly around your hand. You felt relieved from the pain.

She wouldn't stop crying, and you couldn't bring yourself to feel any guilt. Coldhearted and uncaring—That's how it is being a Romano, right?

"Alima, Alexander's gonna come home soon. Please stop crying." You fastened the bandages and forcefully moved her hands from her face, giving her a hug.

"I should just tell him and you can get your ass beat... You don't deserve my kindness..." She sobbed on your shoulder. You suddenly felt the same fear you felt all throughout your childhood caused by your father flood back into you.

Will she really tell Alexander?

"I—I'm sorry, o-okay? Forget this-s happened." You stuttered, fear setting in at the thought of your older brother finding out.

She didn't respond and just sniffled.

"Alima? You won't tell him, r-right?" You said anxiously, "Right?"

"Fuck, Y/n, I won't! Stop being paranoid!" She pulled away and shouted, standing up.

"I-I'm so sorry, Alima, I'm s-so sorry you had to see me like this." You said solemnly.

"Enough." She held a hand up and went upstairs.

You were in a pit of anxiety, desperately trying not to rip the bandages off and hurt yourself all over again.

"I should really kill Alexander..." You whispered to yourself, Cheri Lady's unwanted, murderous whispers taking its toll in your head, "I should really kill him. He's just like the rest... He doesn't matter to me..."

"He doesn't matter to me."

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba #giorno giovanna #giorno #vento aureo #giorno x reader #giorno giovanna x reader #jjba giorno #golden wind #don giorno #jjba part 5 #jjba golden wind #jojo

24 notes · View notes