#and let the three of them project their vision | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stllmnstr · 4 months ago

Text

all the things I never said

pairing: lee heeseung x f reader

genre: childhood friends to lovers

word count: 7.3k

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, heeseung is so romantic I want to die a little, a kiss that gets quite heated, this is very much unedited

note: happy (almost) Heeseung day! I hope you enjoy this little romantic take on childhood friends to lovers ♡

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

Lee Heeseung has a secret.

It’s scribbled on a forgotten note, tucked away in a bottom drawer, carved with a shaky hand into the aging wood of his childhood treehouse.

Sometimes, on cloudless nights, he looks up at the stars and tells them what he’s been hiding for so long. In response, the midnight sky twinkles in a way that looks all too much like laughter.

On afternoons in late autumn, Heeseung whispers the truth to the wind and watches as it’s carried away with an array of dead leaves.

A million little gestures. A thousand tiny moments that are inconsequential on their own. But when pieced together, string a story so obvious he’s not sure if his heart could ever handle it.

But he’s not sure what would happen, if he shouted at the top of his lungs instead of confiding the world around him in hushed whispers.

He’s a firm believer in balance and is terribly afraid that letting words drip from his tongue would only spell disaster.

So for now, he lets Mother Nature serve as his only confidant and hopes that she’ll keep her vows of silence.

There was a time, not all too long ago, when his secret wasn’t, well, a secret. When he used to speak freely and honestly without a fear of the future, without anxiety of repercussions.

But all secrets have their reasons, and all stories have a beginning.

For Heeseung, both begin on a rather ordinary afternoon in early summer nearly twelve years ago.

…

Heeseung’s right palm is annoyingly sweaty. So much so that the shaky grip on his pencil is in danger of being lost.

Half of his attention is directed towards the front of the classroom, where his fourth grade teacher reiterates the guidelines for the upcoming solar system project.

The other half is trained directly on the small white note currently clutched between Mina’s fingers.

Even at nine, Heeseung knows she’s a terrible gossip that can’t be trusted. Just earlier today, she spent all of morning recess hounding poor Jake about his supposed crush on her best friend. She was unrelenting, no matter how fervently Jake denied the accusation or how crimson his cheekbones turned.

Unfortunately for Heeseung, she also sits directly between you and him. A particular stroke of cruelty on Mrs. Kim’s part, in Heeseung’s opinion, but the desk arrangement of his fourth grade classroom is the least for his worries at this point.

He swallows. A bead of sweat forms at the edge of his hairline. Late May has tumbled into his hometown with an unseasonable warmth, but that’s not the reason for his perspiration this afternoon.

With an audible swallow, he locates the paper in his peripheral vision.

Still clutched between Mina’s fingers.

Mrs. Kim has turned her back at least three times since he handed the note off with very clear directions about who to give it to. There’s no reason Mina should still be turning it over between her sticky fingers.

Unless…

No. Heeseung won’t assume the worst. Not when it took him nearly the entire school year to work up the courage.

With one final repetition of the project due date, Mrs. Kim slides off of her chair at the front of the room and walks to her desk tucked away in the opposite corner.

Heeseung’s heart skips a beat.

It’s the perfect opportunity, a golden window.

He glances at Mina, half terrified, half excited.

This is it. The moment he’s been waiting for. The moment he’s been mustering up courage for over the past six months.

He’s doing it. It’s happening. It’s really happening.

And then, all at once, his excitement starts to transform. Starts to turn into dread before it morphs into worry.

“Uh, Mrs. Kim?” It’s Mina’s voice. And Heeseung knew she liked to spread rumors, but he didn’t think that would extend to their teacher.

Heeseung is panicking, trying to figure out a way to save face, to avoid the detention that is sure to come with the classroom crime of passing notes.

Mrs. Kim looks up from her desk. Heeseung thinks he might pass out.

But then Mina says, “I don’t think ___ feels too good.”

For a moment, Heeseung basks in the relief of not having his secrets spilled in the middle of silent work time. But then, the words register. Form meaning in his mind.

The loud screech of metal against linoleum rings out like a gunshot in the otherwise quiet classroom. Heeseung stands up from his seat with a ridiculous speech. It’s a miracle he didn’t know anything off his desk. And he didn’t mean to, not really, but he couldn’t see you around Mina sitting down.

At first glance, her appraisal seems to be correct. You’re pale, terribly so, and shaking slightly where you sit in your seat.

Heeseung doesn’t realize his mistake until Mrs. Kim turns to look at him with a raised eyebrow and most of the class does the same.

In the back corner, Jake and Sunghoon share a meaningful glance.

“Uh,” Heeseung stammers, “Sorry.” Red faced, he takes his seat again. This time, he’s more covert as he turns his gaze back to you.

Mrs. Kim approaches your desk quickly. “Hi, Sweetie,” she greets in that voice she has reserved for scraped knees and other ailments. “Are you feeling okay?”

You shake your head. It’s a minuscule movement that Heeseung tracks intensely.

Mrs. Kim lays a gentle hand across your forehead. “You’re burning up.” She frowns. “Why don’t you head down to the nurse? I’ll let her know you’re on your way.”

Again, you say nothing. The only response you give is a small nod as you gather the materials sprawled across your desk.

Heeseung watches, a little pathetically, as you place them carefully in your cubby before leaving through the door.

You do turn to look at him, just before you exit. When you find his eyes already trained on you, you give him a small smile.

Heeseung’s heart clenches. Whether in fear or anxiety or the same funny feeling that made him spill his heart in the note, he’s not entirely sure.

And then you’re gone. Heeseung makes a mental note to check in with you later, ride his bike the short distance between your neighborhoods and knock on your front door. Your mother is no stranger to his appearances at this point, after all. He won’t bug you, not if you’re resting. But he’ll check in on you, maybe bring you some tea or soup or flowers or whatever else grown ups always say is supposed to make you feel better when you’re sick.

He’s so caught up in his sudden afternoon plans that he almost forgets the paper, the note, still sitting between Mina’s fingers.

Oh well.

He’ll have to try another day, he supposes. It’s not fair to put anything else on your plate when you’re not feeling well.

Heeseung shifts in his seat, turns to ask Mina to just give him the note back. To his horror, she’s already begun to undo his careful folding. The kind of edges only someone who spends long afternoons doing origami with his grandmother could manage.

“What are you doing?” Heeseung hisses, trying to shout without breaking a whisper.

Mina pays him no mind, swats the air like he’s nothing more than a buzzing fly.

“Stop,” Heeseung pleads, “That’s not for y–”

But Mina doesn’t care. Much to his horror, she unfolds the note entirely, leaves it tucked discreetly beneath her desk.

Sparing one final glance at Mrs. Kim, she confirms that her attention is elsewhere. And then she reads it.

It’s unmistakable, the way her eyes scan over words that were never meant for her.

Heeseung has half a mind to cause another scene, stand up out of his seat again and snatch the note from her, detention be damned.

But it’s too late. The damage is done.

Mina turns to face him fully, a quizzical look pulling her brow downwards. She stares at him, eyes narrowed, appraising, as if this is the first time she’s seen him.

And then she folds the note back up, tucks it away underneath her notebook.

A million awful scenarios flash through Heeseung’s mind. Mina making copies of the note and distributing them to the entire class. Mina taking the note to Mrs. Kim and ratting him out. Mina making sure the entire school is privy to Heeseung’s secret before the day is done.

But in the end, he doesn’t need to worry about any of that. After an agonizing stretch of silent work time where Heeseung gets absolutely nothing done, Mina finds him outside the classroom at the water fountain.

Heeseung is in the middle of downing a near concerning amount of lukewarm fountain water when she walks up next to him.

Lifting his head, Heeseung wipes the spare drops from his mouth.

“Here,” Mina hands him the note. She tried to fold it back up, but it was clearly done with inexperienced hands. The lines are no longer crisp, the edges no longer sharp. His work has been tainted.

“I…” Heeseung starts. Should he thank her? Beg her not to tell anyone? Plead with her not to tell you?

Ultimately, he doesn’t need to. Mina cuts him off before he can get another word out.

“Don’t worry. I’m not gonna tell anyone.”

Heeseung will believe it when he sees it, but maybe, just maybe, Mina will actually keep a secret to herself this time.

Heeseung exhales a sigh of relief, tension draining from his shoulders. The victory is short lived.

“You shouldn’t give that to her, though.”

Heeseung balks, freezing for a moment. “What?”

“That note.” Mina nods towards the item in question, clutched between Heeseung’s white knuckles. “Don’t give it to ___.”

Heeseung’s brow furrows. He can’t decide whether he should be angry or confused. This was never meant to be something for Mina to pass judgment on. If he wanted her two cents, he would have asked.

Still, he asks, “Why?”

Mina sighs, looks at him like he’s an orphaned panda in the local zoo. “Because she likes Jay, not you. Everyone knows about it. She gave him a Kit Kat on Valentine’s Day when everyone else just got a Hershey Kiss, and everyone knows that Kit Kats are better. Plus, she–”

Heeseung doesn’t hear the rest of it. It’s as if he’s suddenly been submerged in icy water. Frozen in his body as the world around him is muffled to a dull, indecipherable hum. His heart drops to his stomach; the world spins on its axis.

Jay.

Jay?

Heeseung likes Jay. He’s smart and kind and can play the guitar, which Heeseung can’t deny is incredibly cool. Too cool. So, painfully cool, and you must think so too.

Heeseung wants to cry a little bit. Wants to scream. Wants to eat his feelings and his words and his incomplete confession until there’s nothing left of them and this whole terrible day is nothing but a faded, forgotten memory.

Instead, he turns away from Mina mid-sentence and takes robotic steps back into the classroom. Slides down into his seat like he’s in a trance. Finished out the school day with his head in the clouds.

You don’t return to class. Heeseung assumes that you went home straight from the nurse’s office.

And when Mrs. Kim catches him at the door and asks if he’d be willing to bring your backpack to you, all he can do is give a miserable, dejected nod.

Mrs. Kim has the tact to not say anything, but she does notice. Especially since he’s usually jumping out of his seat at the opportunity to do anything remotely revolving you.

She watches with a frown as he exits through the classroom door, head hung and shoulders slumped. Your backpack dangling uselessly between his fingers.

The air outside is warm, uncharacteristically so for late May. But now it’s choking with something too. A humidity that clings to skin and feels foreboding, especially with the way clouds begin to gather overhead.

Heeseung is halfway to your house when the rain begins. It’s thick, heavy, unforgiving in the way summer showers always are.

When he dismounts his bike at the edge of your driveway, he’s in such a hurry to get your things to you before they’re soaked through that he doesn't notice the small, white paper that falls out of his pocket with the motion.

Just as he predicted, your mother greets him at the door. She’s thankful for your school things and mildly horrified at the dripping wet child on her doorstep. She offers him a towel and a ride home in her car, both of which Heeseung declines politely.

By the time he finishes the ride home, he is well and truly soaked. He’s grateful, at least, for the way rain disguised the singular tear track that stains his left cheek.

And later than night, dry and warm and alone, he lets one more tear fall. Laying against his pillow, it’s warm where it gathers in the corner of his eye, salty as it breaches the barrier of his top lip.

And then he makes a decision. Despair will do him no good, and it’s not like anything has changed, not really.

It’s you that he values, your presence and your friendship and your smiles. He won’t lose those things, even if you save all your Kit Kats for Jay. Even if he has to banish the butterflies in his stomach and hope they don’t escape. Even if he has to pretend his heart doesn’t hurt a little every time he looks at you.

But summer is coming soon and his year in fourth grade is nearly done. There are lots of things to look forward to, and you’ll still be just a short bike ride away. Even if your heart suddenly feels unreachable.

When Heeseung falls asleep that night, his sleep is dreamless and undisturbed.

And a handful of neighborhoods away, a small white piece of paper sinks to the bottom of a puddle. Soaked from the rain and worse for wear, the careful writing is nearly unintelligible.

But if someone wanted to, if they really tried, they just might be able to make out the message.

Dear ___, it reads.

I think you have the prettiest smile I’ve ever seen. I like the way your hair looks in the sun, and I’m glad we’re in the same class. I couldn’t decide how to tell you, so I think I’ll just write it here. I like you. I think you’re pretty and smart and nice and I like you a lot. Can I buy you ice cream at the shop at the end of your street? We can eat it together. :)

Sinceerly,

Sincerely,

Heeseung

…..

The early afternoon sun glints off the ocean in a way that’s almost blinding. Seated on a faded beach towel that’s more sand than fabric at this point, Heeseung readjusts his sunglasses. They sit on the bridge of his nose and do less to shield his wandering gaze than he thinks.

He reaches for the tote bag a few feet away from him, hands in search of the extra strength sunscreen his mom packed two bottles of and reminded him no less than fifty times to reapply. Heeseung figures now’s as good a time as any to follow her instructions. He’s half afraid she’ll actually wring his neck if he comes back sunburnt with his first day of eighth grade just around the corner.

Besides, the current object of his attention is down at the water’s edge. Heeseung thanks his lucky stars you’re too preoccupied with searching for seashells to watch as he slathers a ridiculously high SPF sunscreen all over his face.

Early August has been milder than late July, but the air is still heavy with a heat that’s almost oppressive. He has half a mind to join you in the water for a reprieve from the weather if nothing else.

Despite himself, Heeseung’s eyes never stray far from you. Disaster of a fourth-grade confession aside, he likes to think he’s done a decent job of keeping his feelings close to his chest. Not that they’ve ever changed much, to be honest.

He’s old enough now, far enough into the painfully awkward clutches of puberty to put more words to the way his heart always feels a little funny whenever you’re near.

He has a crush.

A high school, sweaty palm, awkward conversations at your locker between periods crush.

But Heeseung is a master of disguise and this is no exception. For the last six years, he’s held up his side of your steady friendship with nothing outside the realm of platonic.

Even if his gaze always tends to linger a little too long, even if he spends most of every middle school dance standing on the sidelines imaging you asking him to join you, even if he never has quite been able to look at Jay the same way, he’s happy to be your friend. Content in the comfortable routines between the two of you. The easy kind of closeness that comes with growing up with someone.

For better or for worse, he knows you like the back of his hand. And you know him just as well. Besides the one secret he never can quite bring himself to divulge, that is.

On a towel a few feet away, Sunghoon glances at Heeseung. Follows his gaze and is less than surprised to find that his lovesick puppy eyes are trained squarely on your shoulders.

Sunghoon nudges Jake, wordlessly gesturing to Heeseung with a jerk of his chin. Jake follows the movement, traces the same line of sight Sunghoon noticed just moments ago.

The two boys share a look and then an eye roll.

It’s been the same old story since their shared days in Mrs. Kim’s fourth grade class, and Sunghoon is growing weary of witnessing this same old song and dance never reach any kind of conclusion.

Sunghoon clears his throat. Heeseung doesn’t notice.

A bit louder this time, Sunghoon says, “Hey, Heeseung.”

That finally gets his attention, even if it does take him a comically long time to take his eyes off of you. “Yeah?”

“You could, oh, I don’t know, just talk to her, you know.”

“What?” Sunghoon can’t tell if his confusion is genuine or if he’s suddenly become a fantastic actor. “Who?”

“Is that a joke? ___. Who else?”

Heeseung’s brow furrows. “___?” He echoes. “I talk to her all the time. I invited her today.”

“Yeah, okay, but I mean really talk to her.”

“I don’t know how you think we communicate, but I did ‘really talk to her’ when I asked if she wanted to come to the beach t–”

Jake sighs. He’s not sure how much more of this he can take. “He’s saying you should tell her that you like her, idiot.”

“What?” Heeseung splutters. “I don’t… I don’t like ____,” he insists in a way that is not at all convincing.

“Right,” Sunghoon nods. “And I’m going to pass algebra with an A next semester.”

“We’re friends.” Despite himself, Heeseung glances at you again out of the corner of his eye. His stomach gives a very unfriendly flip, but the two boys next to him don’t need to know that.

“I don’t get why you’re still so weird about it.” Sunghoon shakes his head. “You’ve literally been obsessed with her since, like, fourth grade.”

“Yeah,” Jake nods. “Remember that day she got sick in class and he nearly knocked his chair over because he stood up so fast—”

“I was worried about my friend,” Heeseung insists, desperate to change the topic. That day is a particularly sore memory for more than one reason. “I would have done the same for either of you.”

“Uh, no thanks.” Sunghoon shakes his head.

“I’ll pass too,” Jake agrees. “You can save all that lovesick shit for—”

“Lovesick?” a voice interrupts. “Who’s lovesick?”

Three sets of eyes turn to you, two colored in mild humor and one tinged with abject horror.

Sunghoon reaches over with devious intent in his grin. Patting Heeseung on the shoulder, he responds, “Well, your friend Heeseung here—”

“Heard Jungwon talking about a new girl he met this summer.” Heeseung interjects desperately, pausing only to send his two friends a withering glare. “I guess he’s super into her.”

“Oh, really?” Oblivious to the sighs of frustration Sunghoon and Jake exchange, you slide down in the seat next to Heeseung. “Good for him. Between school and dance and taekwondo, I thought he’d always be too busy to meet someone.”

Nudging the boy next to you, you add, “Kinda like someone else I know. I’m surprised you had time for the beach today with basketball starting so soon.”

In all honesty, he doesn’t. Heeseung should be at the court near his house right now, practicing layups. At the very least, he should be going for a run or getting some pre-season cardio in.

But you’ve been mentioning wanting to go on one last trip to the beach before the school year starts for weeks now, and Heeseung has never been good at denying you much. Well, other than access to his real feelings, that is.

Feigning a nonchalance he doesn’t feel, Heeseung shrugs. “I can take a day off every now and then.”

“Oh, really?” You arch a brow. Because I heard that a certain someone asked you to the movies last week and you said you were too busy,”

For you. Heeseung should have clarified. I can take a day off for you.

“What?” Sunghoon pipes up. “Who?”

“No one,” Heeseung grumbles.

Rolling your eyes, you lean over him, angling your face towards Sunghoon conspiratorially. “Her name rhymes with Schmarina.”

“Dude!” This time, it’s Jake who slaps him on the shoulder. “Karina asked you out and you said no? Are you stupid?”

“No,” Heeseung protests. “She didn’t even ask me out. It wasn’t like that.”

“Mhmm.” Sarcasm drips from your voice. “That’s not what Mina said.”

That absolute gossip. “RIght, because you can always trust what Mina says.”

“Sunoo confirmed it too.”

“He’s just as bad!”

“Okay, okay.” You raise your hands in mock surrender. “I’ll drop it. But if she does ever ask you out, I think you should say yes.”

Heeseung forces his features into neutrality. Tries to conceal the fact that your words feel a little bit like a thousand knives stabbing him right in the heart. Ends up looking a little bit constipated.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you admonish. “She’s really sweet.”

Heeseung’s sure she is. He just doesn’t care. Karina could be the kindest, nicest, sweetest girl on planet earth and he would still find a reason to let her down gently. But he can’t exactly tell you that, not when it would only lead to more questions that he is not ready to answer.

Instead, he just shrugs again. A non response. A hopeful end to the conversation.

Luckily, you take his silence as a sign to divert, even if Jake and Sunghoon are still sitting flabbergasted right next to the two of you.

“Speaking of basketball,” you redirect the subject. “I heard that East High’s team is supposed to be really strong this year.” They’re your high school’s biggest rival and the primary reason Heeseung spends so much of his free time on the court. They’re also the reason his coach is already giving speeches about the importance of winning this year’s opening game.

“I figured you might need a little extra luck.”

Sunghoon chokes on a laugh. “C’mon, ____. Cut him some slack. He’s not that bad at basketball.”

“What?” You frown. “No, that’s not what I meant.” Turning back to Heeseung, you clarify. “I promise it’s not. I know you’re, like, insanely good. I just…” You trail off. Heeseung is too busy trying not to explode from the compliment to notice the way your cheeks go slightly pink. “I just saw this when I was down at the water.”

Hastily, you shove your outstretched palm beneath his nose. Encased in your hand is a fully intact, unblemished, perfectly round sand dollar. “It’s supposed to be good luck to find them unbroken,” you explain. “It made me think of you. Uh, I mean, of basketball,” you’re quick to amend.

“Right,” Heeseung can barely hear you over the thrumming of his heartbeat in his ears. “For basketball.”

“For basketball,” you nod.

But when his fingers accidentally brush the skin of your palm as he accepts your good luck charm, basketball is the last thing on his mind.

And when he tucks the sand dollar into the bottom drawer of his dresser for safekeeping later that night, he finally lets the giant, unrestrained smile he’s been holding in all day take over his entire face.

…..

Heeseung’s head is spinning.

And maybe it’s the late summer heat or dregs of the too sweet wine cooler that are getting to him. But neither of those have the ability to fuck with him as much of the sight of you in a sundress does.

A sundress. A real, proper, flowy, honest to god sundress.

Heeseung doesn’t think he’s ever felt more insane in his life.

It doesn’t help that this is the first time he’s seen you in months. Going from classmates to students at different universities has been a difficult transition to say the least. But your friendship has weathered a lot, and this is no exception.

It doesn’t matter that the thoughts Heeseung is having right now are very much not friendly. He’s been dealing with those for the better part of a decade too.

But it feels different tonight.

You’re older. He’s older. The two of you have grown and changed and matured and the feelings he harbors have started to feel a little less like a crush.

And a lot more like something with far more devastating consequences.

You’ve always been pretty. The prettiest girl in the world in his eyes.

But tonight, in the fading glow of another late sunset, looking at you is almost painful.

Heeseung wishes for a lot of things. He wishes it was just the two of you here. Mostly because he can see Sunghoon and Jake making vulgar gestures in the background every time his gaze lingers on you a little too long. And that happens a lot.

He wishes that he was a better friend. That he could give you the support and undivided attention and platonic love that you deserve. That he wasn’t always keeping it guarded behind his fear of revealing too much. Of ruining the best relationship he’s even built in his nineteen years of life.

And sometimes, in his weaker moments, he wishes that he could go back to the fourth grade. He would tell Mina to give her opinion to someone that asked for it and give you that letter. He wonders if things would be different. How they would be different.

In his favorite dreams, you returned his feelings, even back then. The two of you grew up skirting that line the way teenagers do. And then, when you were ready, it turned into something real. Something honest. Something he doesn’t have to hide.

But in his moments of fear, Mina was right. Your attention was somewhere else and his note becomes nothing but an embarrassing memory. Something the two of you never overcome. Something that prevents you from forming friendship at all.

That, Heeseung decides, no matter how much he might sometimes wish thing were different, will never be worth the risk.

So he does what he always does. He keeps his feelings close to his chest and nurses another warm beer along with a wounded heart.

Across the yard, Heeseung watches you laugh at something Jay says. It’s real laugh, the kind that makes your eyes twinkle and makes his head spin.

Jay. He can’t help the way his grip tightens against the bottle in his hand. Who even invited him tonight?

It’s not like anything ever came of Mina’s prediction. As far as he knows, you’ve never so much as given Jay another Kit Kat. But the sight of the two of you together still has an ugly green monster rearing its head.

Eventually, the evening, as all evenings do, starts to draw to its inevitable end.

You catch Heeseung’s eye across the yard just as everyone is bidding their farewells. Silently, you jerk your chin, motioning him over.

Putty in your grip, Heeseung complies with no trace of resistance.

When he finally reaches you, you don’t offer much of an explanation. Instead, you just motion for him to follow you again.

“For old time’s sake,” is all you say.

But it’s not much of a hint. After all, the two of you have memories scattered across this entire city. Tucked in alleys and street corners and shops. Safekept in all of your favorite childhood destinations. Forged in Heeseung’s memory.

Finally, the two of you reach the edge of a small stretch of forest. A place the two of you used to visit whenever the rest of the world just felt like a little too much to bear. A place where you discovered the small treehouse you lead him to now.

Wordlessly, you outstretch your hand, encasing his grip in your own. Heeseung has already begun to lose remnants of his boyhood. His features are losing their youthful roundess, are sharpening into a face that unmistakably belongs to a man.

But with his hand in yours, he feels nine again. Nursing the unsteady heartbeat and sweaty palms that come with a first crush.

When the two of you finally reach the top of the ladder, you ease your way through the opening first.

You’ve nearly outgrown this place. The two of you have to hunch slightly to avoid hitting the roof with your heads.

“Remember coming here that day my cat ran away?” You’re not looking at him, gaze wandering around the space, collecting memories like souvenirs.

“Mr. Mittens,” Heeseung nods. “How could I forget?”

“I still think he’s out there somewhere. He couldn’t forgive my dad when he stopped giving him table scraps.” Your tone is light, teasing.

But the space is small and it leaves no choice but for the two of you to sit close. So close. Too close. Not nearly close enough.

Still, Heeseung does his best to maintain his composure. “Mm,” he agrees. “I’m sure he’s very happy now. Probably eating leftovers as we speak.”

The conversation drifts into silence. It’s not uncomfortable, but it is charged. Fraught with something Heeseung’s been trying to ignore for the last ten years.

“Heeseung?” Your voice is small. He feels it as much as he hears it.

“Yeah?” He doesn’t mean to sound so breathless, but he can’t help it. Not here. Not now.

“I missed you.”

For a moment, it’s all he can do to stare at you. He missed you too. So much it hurt. But it feels like he’s been missing you for years now. Missing something he’s never allowed himself to ask for.

“I mean, I knew I would.” You drop your gaze now, toying with the hem of your dress. “And I know we still texted and called a lot, but there were so many times when I just wished you were there with me, you know?”

He does. He does.

“Yeah,” Heeseung nods, jaw working. He swallows hard. His voice sounds scraped raw. “I felt the exact same.”

You meet his gaze again. Hold it for a moment. And then another. Heeseung watches as your lips part, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

For a second, he thinks you’re about to say something else. But then you shake your head. It’s a tiny movement, barely perceptible. But he sees it. He always does.

Diverting the subject, you ease some of the tension. “Do you have anything sharp?”

“Sharp?” he echoes. “I don’t think so. Why?”

Instead of explaining, you reach for a rock next to your knee. Holding it up, you grin at him. “This should work.”

Scooting closer to the interior wall of the treehouse, you begin your handiwork. After a couple of minutes, you sit back on your heels, satisfied.

“What do you think?” You turn over your shoulder to glance at him.

Heeseung thinks a lot of things. He thinks you’ve never looked more beautiful than you do in this very moment, this exact second. He thinks his heart might actually be beating loud enough for it to be audible. He thinks he’s not going to survive another semester away from you.

He thinks he might be in love.

And when his eyes settle on the wall over your shoulder, he knows he is.

Because there, in the respite of your childhood treehouse, you’ve carved both of your initials into the wood and framed them with a slightly lopsided heart.

It’s messy. It’s imperfect. It’s his favorite thing he’s ever seen. Well, he amends as his gaze slides back to you, it’s his second favorite, maybe.

“It’s perfect,” he tells you.

A handful of minutes later, when you find yourself approaching his doorstep, Heeseung notices the way you suppress a shiver against the slight chill of the gentle night time breeze. For him, it’s the most natural thing in the world to offer you a sweatshirt. Something to keep you warm while he walks you home.

You’re no stranger to the inside of his bedroom, but Heeseung’s heart still jumps regardless. It’s so intimate, the way you navigate his space like it’s your own. The way you sit down on the edge of his bed without thinking anything of it.

“Bottom drawer,” Heeseung nods towards his dresser. He rearranged while packing for his dorm. “I have a few sweatshirts in there. You can take any of them.”

Nodding, you stand from his bed, quiet footsteps tracing a path over to the dresser. But when you open the bottom drawer a moment later, it’s not a sweatshirt you hold in your hands.

“You still have this?” There’s a bit of wonder in your voice. A soft edge that Heeseung would read more into if he wasn’t suddenly panicking.

It’s the sand dollar, he realizes. The one you gave him all those years ago. A good luck charm. Stupid, how could he be so stupid to forget that he left it in that drawer too?

It’s not damning evidence of anything, not really. But it’s late and he’s tired and you’re still in that fucking dress. Logic was never going to be anything but a losing game.

“Of course,” Heeseung admits. “We won every game that season.”

You know. You were there to watch all of them.

“Heeseung?” Something in your tone has all of his attention zeroing in on you. Maybe it’s the strange stroke of timidness. Maybe it’s the fact that you’ve always commanded his focus, even when you’re not trying.

“Yeah?” That breathlessness is back. Heeseung can’t find it in himself to curse it.

You’re still standing across the room from him. The sand dollar enclosed in your gentle grip. When you finally tear your gaze away from it, it’s to look Heeseung in the eye.

“Can I…?” You’re unsure. Shy. Heeseung has seen a whole lot of you, but he has no idea what to do with this.

“Can I try something?” Your teeth are worrying at your bottom lip like the words taste bitter. Like you can’t decide whether you regret them or not.

Heeseung would give you the world if you asked for it, but he knows better.

He’ll play his cards the same way he always has.

“Try what?”

You don’t answer him. Not with words, at least.

Instead, you begin to trace a steady path towards him. The sand dollar is still in your hand. Heeseung’s heart is still in his throat. The hem of your dress brushes gently against the bare expanse of your thigh, just about your knee.

You’re standing right in front of him now. There’s less than a foot of emptiness between you. Heeseung has no idea what to do with that liminal space. He can’t decide whether he should close it or widen it until his brain starts to function again.

“Is this weird?” you whisper.

It is. It is.

“No.”

“Okay,” you nod. You avert your gaze, buying time. “Good.”

He watches your chest rise with an unsteady inhale. Fall with a shaky exhale.

You bend to set the sand dollar down on the floor to the left of you.

And then your hand is on his shoulder. Gripping lightly, like you need the support.

Close. You’re so fucking close.

And with every passing heartbeat, you’re only getting closer.

Without meaning to, Heeseung is screwing his eyes shut.

Later, he’ll regret it. Not committing every possible detail to memory.

But right now, any semblance of logic is lost with the shreds of sanity he’s been dropping at your feet for the past ten years.

With the sureness of a steady thing, you ruin them all in one fell swoop.

And then your lips are on his.

It’s a gentle pressure. Light. No expectations, no demands. No promises or secrets or vows. But the hand on his shoulder is gripping harder now.

And the second Heeseung regains control of his limbs, he mirrors your action. One hand finds the notch at the bottom of your spine and the other pushes hair away from your temple.

You’re gentle, unsure. You’re afraid you’re crossing a foolish boundary, ruining a friendship you cherish.

But Heeseung has been warring with every thought that’s crossed his mind for years, and he can’t find it in himself to be patient now. There’s no hesitation when he pulls you closer. No semblance of restraint when he presses his mouth against yours more firmly, when he swallows the shallow gasp you give him and then begs for more.

Restraint is all he’s ever known but there’s nothing left of it now.

When he feels your lips part against his own, he takes it as an invitation. An opening. An offering he’s only ever been afforded in his favorite dreams.

But this is different. It’s better. You’re real. So fucking tangible and his hands can’t decide where to go next.

They make quick work of tracing your spine, your neck, your collarbone. But he’s greedy and he’s desperate and he wants his hands as full of you as his mind is.

It’s not long before fingers are slipping under the flimsy strap of your dress, forging a path that he follows with his lips.

He hears you sigh, feels the whisper of breath against his hair. And then he hears you whimper.

A long, drawn out plea that sounds all too much like “Heeseung.”

He shudders, all the way down to his toes. And then he’s pulling you backwards, flipping your positioning so that your spine is pressed against the wall of his bedroom.

One hand rests above your shoulder, the other beside your head. He sets his forehead against your own, eyes still screwed shut. His heartbeat races in time with the shallow breath in his chest.

“You have to tell me to stop.” His voice is raw, ragged. “You have to tell me to stop before I fucking lose it.”

“What if I want you to?”

He’s dead. He has to be. Caught in a purgatory of his own making, stuck between a heaven and hell perfectly curated for his ruination.

“We can’t—” You could, and that’s what makes it so impossible.

But for Heeseung, this is the culmination of a decade of repressed feelings. Of fleeting touches and lingering gazes and first crushes and the realization that he’s been carrying love with him before he knew what to call it.

He has no idea what this is for you.

“I have to know what you’re thinking.” It’s barely a whisper. His voice nearly cracks on the last syllable. He doesn’t think he’s ever been more scared in his life.

Quietly, your hand finds the base of his neck. Your fingertips trace his skin, a soothing rhythm that does little to quiet the war in his mind. But it does tether him to the moment, anchors him in the present.

You whisper, and he feels your breath against his swollen lips. “I don’t want to scare you.”

“You won’t,” he shakes his head. It’s a lie. He’s terrified.

“But what if—”

“I’m in love with you.” It was always going to be him that confessed first. It had to be. “I’ve been in love with you since we were nine years old.” It’s like a weight has been lifted off his chest, as if the world around him is a little lighter now. “You won’t scare me.”

You break the contact of your foreheads, and Heeseung misses your touch the second it’s gone. He’s grateful for the hand that still traces gentle circles on the skin of his nape.

You use the distance you’ve created to look him in the eye. Searching for any trace of dishonesty, you find nothing but a long held secret, a well-guarded truth.

“You love me?” You don’t even have to ask. You can see it in his eyes.

“More than you know.”

“Good,” you whisper, an echo from before. “Because I love you.”

When he kisses you this time, it’s softer. Gentler. The urgency in his gut is still there, but it’s been quieted a bit. Replaced with a distinct sort of fondness he does his best to communicate with touch.

Love. He spells it with every breath that spills against your own.

Love. He imbes it into every touch against bare skin.

Love. He whispers it in your ear and shudders when you do the same.

Because that sand dollar isn’t stuck in his bottom drawer anymore, hidden away from the light. It’s here, in the openness of his childhood bedroom. A truth between the two of you.

And when he picks it up again later, he sets it on top of the dresser. Where he and you and anyone else that might pass by can see it.

…..

Lee Heeseung has a secret.

It’s whispered in practice runs with Jake and Sunghoon, imagined on the nights he pulls you closer to him as he drifts off to sleep, hidden away in a small, nondescript black box in the back of his closet.

But Heeseung isn’t nine anymore. He’s not fifteen or nineteen.

He’s twenty-six, and he’s learned a thing or two about secrets.

So this time, he only holds this one for a month, only carries it with him for a handful of weeks before he divulges.

And when he does finally get you right where he wants you, back in that same too small treehouse, his secret spills easily.

Even though his voice is shaky, even though his hands tremble with overflowing nerves.

He can’t drop to one knee, not exactly. And he nearly drops the little black box when he pulls it from his coat pocket.

But the ring slides onto your left hand without a hint of resistance. And the stone flickers in dying daylight like it was meant just for you.

This time, he doesn’t hide behind a note or a sand dollar or even a kiss.

Instead, he looks you in the eye when he tells you loves you.

He smiles, a hopeful thing, when he asks you to marry him.

All the things he never said, every word he never told you, are all here, now.

Every second of torment, every moment of agony suddenly feel brand new.

But when you tell him yes, your eyes shining with unshed tears that match his own, he thinks that they just might have all been worth it.

And when you tell him, for the thousandth time, that you love him, he knows that they were.

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! I am still working on sacred monsters, but I wanted to put out something cute for Heeseung's birthday and I had a big chunk of this already sitting in my drafts. I mentioned at the beginning, but this is unedited, so please forgive any little mistakes you saw.

all the love ♡

#heeseung fanfic #heeseung x reader #heeseung scenarios #heeseung imagines #heeseung fanfiction #heeseung fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x you #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fluff #heeseung x you

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fairysluna · 10 months ago

Note

Hi! Could I please request another threesome with Cregan, reader and Jace. Maybe they get jealous when they see reader with another men and want to teach her a lesson? Thank you and love your blog!

i get drunk on jealousy.

Modern!AU — After they've ignored you for a week, you were desperate to have their attention back. Flirting with a random guy might not be the best idea.

MASTERLIST

PAIRING — Cregan Stark x Fem!Reader x Jacaerys Velaryon.

TAGS — polyrelationship/polyamorous, m/m/f, smut (p in v, clit play, handjob, oral sex, creampie, spitting, cum eating, male on male action), jace x cregan, use of alcohol and drugs, kind of drunk sex, dom!cregan, switch!jace, sub!reader, jealousy, cursing. If something is missing let me know!!

AUTHOR'S NOTE — Don't expect so much of this fic, I saw this picture, I saw a vision, and basically my horniness wrote this by itself. Not my best work, but fuck it, this is just for fun. Also, this made me realize that I'm unable to write dom!Jace if Cregan is there too, oops??? I guess??? NO BETA, WE DIE LIKE MEN.

I took this request as an excuse to write this fic so... thank you for sending it and hope you enjoy this!🤍

WORD COUNT — 3.1k

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤenglish is not my first language.

Most people on Campus knew about your strange relationship with Cregan and Jacaerys. Some guys would often call you a whore behind your back, while some girls would prefer the term ‘lucky bitch’; it was no secret that the both of them were quite known for being handsome and gallant, almost acting like real life prince-charmings. Every girl would drool for them, acknowledging their chivalry and politeness. Of course, they already knew about the attention that they received from the opposite sex, they knew about how many girls would love to be in your position. Which is why they didn't understand why you were so eager to act like a brat.

Jace tapped Cregan's shoulder as he saw you chatting with some random guy that suddenly appeared next to you on the couch. Neither of them had seen him before, he was probably a freshman or someone that sneaked into the party without invitation. Both pairs of eyes were intently staring at you, watching every move you make. They knew you weren't oblivious enough to not see it; he was obviously flirting with you, and you were clearly enjoying every moment of it. Jacaerys, being the most jealous out of the three of you, tightened his grip around his bottle of beer, his fingertips turning white as Cregan turned to look at him.

“Don't do anything stupid,” he warned him. “She'll deal with us later.”

“But look at her!” Jace snapped, his breathing ragged.

“She's doing it to piss us off,” Cregan attempted to calm him down. “She won't do anything with that guy. Just wait until the party's over and we'll take care of it, okay?”

He looked at him, obediently nodding as he took a long sil out of his beer to calm down a bit. Jace forbade himself to turn your way, ignoring your desperate attempt to make them jealous. Cregan, being a lot less hotheaded than Jace, acted nonchalantly toward your attitude, pretending you were doing nothing wrong, even when he wanted to grab your arm and take you right in that couch just to clarify that you belong to them.

Cregan knew your purpose, you both had spoken about it earlier that day after one of your classes together. They both have been ignoring you, neglecting your needs and spending more time alone — without you. At first you didn't mind it, thinking that they were busy with the final exams and their final projects of the semester; however, when you knew they were using all that time to plan this stupid party you got pissed, almost screaming at him in the middle of the campus, frustrated. Now here you were, sitting with a freshman trying to get in your pants, all while they were still ignoring you.

Both guys spent the rest of the night drinking, playing some games with other members of the fraternity and having a blast while you were standing in a corner, alone and bored; your two lovers out of your sight. Perhaps that was why you couldn't see Jace searching for you everytime he could, unable to control the jealousy that had grown within him. He couldn't find you anywhere around, which made his mind overthink about where you were, and with whom. Cregan would try to calm him down, offering him his blunt which Jace would accept in order to relax.

Hours passed, it was 4am when the music stopped and everyone passed out in random parts of the fraternity house. Cregan and Jace were stumbling their way up to their dorm, the effects of the alcohol still lingering in their bodies as they struggled to reach for their room. They both were holding onto each other until they opened the door and saw you standing in front of the mirror, wiping off your make up and getting ready to sleep. They noticed you had moved their beds together, making a bigger one as you usually do whenever you stayed with them.

They entered the room in silence, and while Cregan was closing the door and turning the lock, Jace stood closer to you almost drooling once he saw you were wearing one of his shirts. He wrapped his arms around your waist and hid his face on the crock of your neck, leaving wet kisses all over your skin and completely forgetting about the fact that he was supposed to be ignoring you.

“You're so fucking weak, Jace,” Cregan scolded him, removing his shoes and shirt, getting ready to bed.

You turned to look at the eldest guy, who just ignored your intense gaze.

“You're mad?” you dared to ask.

“We both are, actually,” Jacaerys murmured against your skin.

“And why would you be mad? I should be the angry one!”

“Oh, really?” Cregan finally turned, stepping closer to you. “Why is that?”

“You know why! We talked about this and you decided to keep ignoring me!”

Stark laughed dryly, his gray eyes getting darker as he narrowed them. “Is that why you've been acting like a fucking whore tonight? Trying to get into a freshman's pants to get our attention. Fucking pathetic.” He took a step close enough to grab your jaw and force you to look at him. You tried to squirm away from him, but Jace's arms tightened their grip around your body, and you had no escape. “Jace couldn't even enjoy the fucking party because he thought you were sucking another guy's cock. You think that's fair? To make him feel like shit the entire night because you were just needy of attention?”

“I- I didn't-”

“You broke my heart tonight, sweetheart,” Jace whispered in your ear as his fingers reached the hem of your shirt. “You need to pay for what you've done…”

“I'm- I'm sorry, I never meant to-”

“It seems like you need a lesson,” Cregan interrupted you, tightening his grip on your face and making you whine. “Something to remind you that you belong to us.”

Jacaerys' hand cupping your core with one of his hands, burying his fingers between your folds and covering them with your growing slick. He giggled, “she's not wearing panties…” he informed, smiling up at Cregan who clenched his jaw.

“Get her on her knees,” he commanded, and the youngest obeyed immediately, letting you go from his firm grip.

You fell to your knees, scratching them with the raspy carpet beneath you. Jace removed his shirt as Cregan started to unbutton his pants until they pooled around his ankles along with his underwear. You whimpered once you saw his cock starting to get hard under your haze, your mouth watering as you leaned towards his side.

“Get on the bed,” he pointed at Jace. You tried to stand up and follow the instructions too, yet he stopped you by gripping the front of your head and pulling it back. “Not you,” he sternly said. “Open up.”

Obediently, you did as you were told, opening your mouth and letting him press his tip on your tongue. He gave it a few taps, teasing before ge finally decided to start fucking your mouth. Cregan grabbed the sides of your head to keep you still in your position, and his hips started to snap against your throat without further warning. You found stability when you placed your cold hands on his thighs, grasping onto them so you wouldn't lose balance as he had no mercy with you.

You looked up teary eyed, gagging and gulping loudly as you heard his moans slipping out of his plump lips. The small eye contact suddenly became too much for him, so he leaned his head back as he closed his eyes. “Such a delicious mouth,” he praised you, “taking my cock so fucking well.”

His grip around your head started to hurt a bit, his fingertips burying in you as he fastened his pace. It wasn't hard for you to become a mess; your own drool was falling down the corners of your lips as you cried out, your whines being muffled by him inside your mouth, and your slick already starting to leak out of you. Your arousal only grew once he buried himself completely in your mouth, grabbed the back of your head and forced you to stay there for a few seconds, with his length fully sheathed in your throat. Your nose brushed against his pelvis as the air started to escape from your lungs.

“Come on now, baby,” he murmured with a strained voice, feeling his cock pulsing inside your mouth. “Take it… take it all…”

He chuckled softly as you started to tap on his thigh, and he quickly let you go. You gasped once he pulled out of your mouth, gasping for the air your lungs desperately needed. He moaned softly once he saw you; tears on your face, drool falling down your swollen lips — you looked so pretty he even thought about letting you go unpunished and just please you, but then he turned to see Jace; his cock was achingly hard, his ruddy tip leaking as he desperately fucked his fist; he had been so good to you, and you made him feel so bad throughout the night; he deserved a reward, and you deserved a punishment.

Before you could react, Cregan grabbed your body with ease, lifting you up from the ground and carelessly carrying you towards the bed. You moaned with his touch, so needy of him that even his roughness made you squirm out of pleasure. He moved your body around as if you were a ragdoll, shifting your position in bed until you were sitting on top of Jace's pelvis, his cock right between your legs. For a second you thought it was finally the time for them to fuck you, but you were so wrong.

“Grab her hips,” he commanded, using that mandatory tone that drove you and Jace insane. “Don't let her move.”

He positioned himself between the boy's legs, leaving you more confused than before. “What- what are you-?”

“I'm teaching you a lesson,” he stopped you before you could finish your question. “You'll see what happens when you behave and when you don't.”

You saw him leaning down, his plump lips wrapping the tip of Jace's cock and making him squirm beneath your body. Your mouth dropped as you looked at Cregan taking him entirely, his haze fixed in you as the frustration in your body grew even more. The youngest had his nails buried in the flesh of your hips, you heard him moan so prettily that you could even feel the slick oozing out of you, even when you were untouched. It was such a sinful image to witness, especially when Cregan's eyes became teary once he gagged around Jace.

“Oh, fuck…” you mumbled, tears of despair gathering in your eyes as your breathing became ragged. “P-please touch me…”

Jace's hand attempted to reach for your throbbing clit, but the older grabbed his hand and pushed it away. “I'll stop if you touch her,” he warned him. All you could do was cry out.

Cregan's ragged breathing would reach your folds, causing shivers all over your spine. You would try to move your hips to at least rub yourself against Jace's skin, but he didn't allow it, holding you down so tightly that you were certain it would leave a bruise.

The moans turned into whines as Jace started to quickly feel the orgasm coming. His skin was burning as Cregan fervently sucked on his tip, using his tongue to clean up the precum spilling from his slit. Whenever you would cry out or move on top of him he would feel closer to the edge, his body burning inside. “I'm so fucking close, baby,” he whimpered, “keep sucking my cock, I'm- I'm gonna fucking cum… f-fuuck.”

You saw Cregan hollowing his cheeks, milking Jace dry as he came inside his mouth. Drops of the pearly seed escaped from his lips and you felt the need to lick them both clean. You needed a taste, anything that would make you feel some kind of relief.

He sat back up, and as soon as he laid his hazy eyes on you, he grabbed your neck pulling you closer towards him. As if it was a reflex, you opened your mouth while you stared at him through your glossy eyes. He let his spit fall onto your mouth, to then pull you close and fervently kiss you. The salty taste of Jace's release lingered in your mouths as you devoured each other, you would whine against his lips, still sobbing as your pussy was already aching for the lack of attention.

That's when the boy beneath you wrapped you between his arms, forcing you to lay on top of his chest. He didn't even let you catch a break before you felt his cock slowly making his way inside of you, and you gasped out of relief. He stretched you out, providing you with that sweet sting of pain that drove you insane. His hands grabbed your thighs, folding you in half as he started to thrust upwards.

“Don't ever forget who you belong to,” he grunted against your ear as you struggled to keep it quiet. Probably the whole house knew what you were doing, and maybe that was their purpose all along. “You're fucking ours, baby. This tight pussy belongs to us, do you hear me?”

Cregan's hand fell hard on your throbbing clit as you remained silent. A whine left your lips as Jace kept bullying your gummy, wet walls with his girth.

“Answer him,” he demanded, getting closer to you and placing his leaking cock on top of your swollen pearl. You felt the room spinning.

“Yes! Yes! I'm- fuck… I'm fucking yours,” you sobbed.

The whole situation became overwhelming, while one was burying himself in the deepest part of you, the other was rubbing himself on your sensitive flesh, searching for his own release as he wrapped his hand around your throat.

“Fuck, you're fucking squeezing me so tight, baby,” Jace moaned, breathlessly as he felt the mixture of your slick falling down his sack. The lewd sounds of your folds getting stretched by his thickness almost making him cum again. “So fuckin delicious…”

“We've just started and we already fucked her silly,” Cregan chuckled. “She's a fucking mess for us…”

A layer of sweat covered your body; you felt the blood burning inside your veins, the orgasm approaching you embarrassingly fast as they were stimulating your senses. Your eyes rolled back, the desperate pleads slipping out of your lips as you were begging them to make you cum. You were shaking, your face covered in tears as the moans were ripped out of your throat.

“So loud,” the older teased you, “gonna wake up the whole fucking house…”

“I- I need to… please, I need to cum!”

Cregan leaned towards you, and Jace instinctively fastened his pace, burying himself deeper and harder; you had a hard time thinking straight as the older’s hands tightened around your neck. “Ow, poor girl, wants to cum. I don't think you deserve it.”

“P-please, Cregan…”

“Work for it,” he demanded. “Make Jace cum and then you're free to do it too.”

Almost as if it was an instinct, you started to move your hips up and down Jace's cock, making the thrusts more intense and deeper. The younger moaned loudly, already feeling overstimulated by your movements and feeling his sack heavy with a new load of his release. He thought about how pretty you would look with your legs spreaded and his seed falling from your weeping hole; that image alone almost made him peak right in the spot.

“Jacey, please!” you whined, already growing tired. “Please, please, cum in me!”

“Want me to fill your pretty cunny, baby? Mhm? Want my cum inside of you?” he teased, and you rolled your eyes as your walls clenched with his filthy words.

“Yes… yes, please… give it to me, please…”

As a spectator, Cregan groaned loudly, quickly rubbing his hands around his shaft with his eyes fixed in the way Jace was filling you up, bewitched by that bulge in your belly that grew each time that he would bury himself deep inside of you, touching your sweet spot over and over until your head feel dizzy and all that left your mouth were incoherent mumbling.

“I can't… I can't hold it…” you sobbed.

“Come on, baby, I'm so fucking close, just wait for me,” Jace whimpered, his movements getting more desperate and sloppier.

“I can't! I can't! F-fuck…”

Everything came to a breaking point once your release gushed out of you, spurring all over them and making a complete mess. Neither of them could hold back after such an obscene view in front of them, and they were quick to follow. Jacaerys finally spilled himself in you, his seed painting your walls and filling you to the brim. Lastly, Cregan stained your shirt and flesh with his pearly drops, moaning so beautifully that it made you feel butterflies in your belly.

You hissed when Jace pulled out of you, feeling your legs shake while Cregan struggled to stand up from the bed and looking for something to clean you up while you laid against the younger’s body, who softly wiped the tears out of your face.

“Shh… it's okay, you did so good for us, my love,” he cooes, so gently. “So, so good.”

“I'm- I'm sorry,” you mumbled while Cregan returned to your side with a towel in his hand. With soft brushes he started to clean your thighs, your belly and the raw flesh between your legs. “I- I never meant to make you two feel bad… I was- I was being so selfish-”

“Hey,” Cregan stopped you, holding your face with gentleness; so different from his previous touch. “It's already behind us, okay?”

Once he finished cleaning you up, your body fell into Jace's embrace as he wrapped his arms around your body, pulling you closer to him and cuddling with you. He hid his face on the crook of your neck and softly hummed when the remains of your sweet perfume reached his nose.

“We love you so much,” he whispered, “please, don't ever do that to us again…”

You grabbed your face only to see his puppy, brown eyes. A gentle, soft kiss was shared as you felt Cregan laying down behind you and fondling your body, soon you three had your limbs tangled as you kissed and caressed each other without shame. Loving touches that relaxed all of you.

“I'm sorry,” you whispered again to the both of them. “I'll never do that again.”

“Do you promise?” Cregan asked.

“I promise,” you softly nodded.

The Northern boy leaned to leave a soft kiss on your cheek, you both shared a gentle smile which let you know that the anger that was once within him was now fully gone.

follow @by-fairysluna for updates!!

GENERAL TAG LIST — @islandfantasydream @arcielee @bucknastysbabe @zaldritzosrose @rafeism @valeskafics

CREGAN TAG LIST — @purplequxxn @iloveharbingers @jeongiegram @koobratzy @foxyanon

JACAERYS TAG LIST — @iloveharbingers @alynna-m @katharina1111 @simp-aholic

#house of the dragon #hotd #cregan stark smut #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark #jacaerys velaryon smut #jacaerys velaryon x reader #cregan stark x jacaerys velaryon #jaceagan #hotd smut #hotd fanfic #cregan stark x you #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon x you

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lovelywyenn · 4 months ago

Text

“P*ssy Drunk”

★Giyuu Tomiokax fem!Reader★ Synopsis★forget pussy drunk, have you ever seen Giyuu a slutty, whiny mess just because of your thighs. That shit'll kill you ★ Includes★Pussy eating,Squirtingg,clit worship, mini handjob, thigh fucking, overstimulation, lots of cum★ ★W.C★2.5K

Your face was flushed, and your hair was messy. Your thighs were quaking and you swore your vision was blacking out.

Who the hell taught this boy to eat pussy like this.

Giyuu’s tongue was toe curling, he was slurping the soul out of you. All the men you usually fucked around with. Football players, rich dudes. They couldn’t find the clit if it had neon signs pointing to it. But Giyuu didn’t have that problem.

He had found your clit, thirty…maybe forty-five minutes ago. And he hadn’t let it go since. You were joking, just playing around with the nerd when you told him you’d give him the orgasm of a lifetime if he ate you out. But he took it seriously.

The only reason he was in your dorm room right now was because of a school project. Usually when you get paired with a loser like him you’d let them do all the work. But Giyuu, he was a bit of a cutie.

You still remember the first time you got paired with him, and you didn’t think you’d ever go back.

You liked how nervous he got around you, how bad he stuttered when you got close. It was painfully obvious he was into you. And you loved taking advantage of it. That boy would do anything for you at the drop of a hat.

Oh you needed a new pair of heels, he cashapped you two hundred in five minutes. You were too tired to do your homework, send it his way and he’d have it done the next day. Drank too much last night, he was ready with tylenol and ginger ale to help your stomach and your head.

Sometimes he was too sweet, and you felt…bad for the way you treated him.

But you always shook yourself out of it. He was a fun little play thing. And that was all he was.

A pretty little toy with the tongue of a god.

“Fuckkkk….” you moan as he kisses at your slit, spreading your lips to fuck his tongue into you.

Three times. You had said he had to make you cum three times to get you to return the favor, and he hadn’t passed anatomy at the top of his class for no reason. You were so easy to read, to break. You were a mess the moment his tongue flicked across your clit. Worshiping the bud with nasty, toe curling sucks that had you moaning his name. His name!

He had imagined it before, having you under him, hearing you finally thank him for everything he had done for you. Finally acknowledging him.

But the real thing was so much better than his imagination. Your pussy was so pretty, so needy. He could tell from the way you reacted to him none of the men you had been with had ever eaten you properly. Never taken the time to kiss their meal before indulging in it, never appreciating the goddess’s thighs they were in between.

Though he wasn’t like them, Giyuu wouldn’t make that mistake.

He wanted you shaking under him, for your voice to be hoarse from calling out his name. And you gave him exactly that.

You didn’t like losing control, to show more than you wanted. But his tongue was too good. How could anyone not give into such immense pleasure. He ate you out so good your body could barely handle the pleasure.

The first orgasm he gave you was one of the best you’ve ever had. Your body arched up into the air so high you thought you’d fall off the bed. But Giyuu wrapped his surprisingly strong arms around your thighs just to drag you halfway off the bed securely and dive right back in.

The overstimulation took you by surprise. A man had barely given you an orgasm before, much less dived back in for seconds.

Clearly, Giyuu wasn’t leaving here without losing his virginity. Which meant you weren’t getting let up on until you came a third time.

The second orgasm hit you barely two minutes ago. And Giyuu didn’t even let you go for that one. His tongue stayed sloshing around your clit.

It felt like all the air had been taken from your lungs. You didn’t cry, you never cried. But you wanted to, so bad.

It was so unfair, how he was tearing you apart with pleasure so intense. You’ve never felt it before, hot white sparks flew down every vein in your body every time his tongue moved on you.

The sounds in the room were so nasty, the filthy sounds of slick and spit permeating throughout the room. And you could feel it too. Everything was so wet. You could feel yourself sopping, but who could blame you. The immense wetness paired with the sloppy head you were receiving was the sexiest thing ever.

“Oh my god, you’re g-gonna kill meeee!” you hiccup.

Your voice is exactly the way he wanted it. Tired and desperate for him. All for him. It was so pathetic he almost felt bad for you, almost wanted to let up a bit.

But when your pretty hands slide down into his long hair, pulling him impossibly closer to your slit he doesn’t feel too bad anymore. He flattens his tongue, a smirk on curling on the edge of his lips as your hips buck up into his tongue erratically, practically pleading to reach your peak. Not that he minded, his brain had almost gone as dumb as yours at this point. How could Giyuu be expected to think straight when those pretty stilettos he had paid for were scratching at his scalp so deliciously.

A question leaves your lips as you grow tired of grinding, “P-Please, can you suck my clit a-again” you ask, peering down at Giyuu.

Deep blue eyes gaze up into your own, and the hungry look in them makes you whimper. That was the first time you had ever said please before you asked him for something. He just had to make sure he rewarded you for using your manners.

His tongue licks a long stripe up your cunt before latching his lips on your clit, lavishing your hardened bud with all the loving it deserved.

A symphony of your whines filled the room, and you were squirming so bad he had to hold you down to stay focused on his target. One of his hands had a harsh hold on the fat of your thigh. The other pressed hard against your lower stomach to get you still.

The pressure has your eyes rolling back in your head, too overwhelmed to warn him about what was coming.

Blue eyes widen as Giyuu is sprayed with juices. It takes him one..two seconds to react before his tongue is sliding down to your entrance, one of his thumbs taking up for his tongue’s absence on your clit.

You don’t make a sound, but you don’t have to, your pussy does all the talking for you. And she was having the orgasm of a lifetime. Giyuu could feel your cunt twitching under your thumb, and your spray of juices seemed to be never ending.

But he takes care of your pretty pussy until she doesn’t have a drop of juice left to squirt on his tongue, until she’s spent out and tired just like you were.

You peek open your eyes when you feel Giyuu pull away. And you almost wish you didn’t.

Why the hell did he look so fucking sexy?

His shirt was soaked, almost all the way through, and his face was no better. You could see the shine of your slick across his chin. His lips red from how hard he had been sucking on your clit. His skin was just as flushed as yours, if not more. And his hair was disheveled from your tight hold on his locks.

But sexiest of all was the look he gave you. Like the sight of you, a wet mess under him, was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. His eyes met yours and they never left as he pulled off his shirt. His movements erratic as he shucks off the rest of his clothes.

You couldn’t help but gasp as his cock sprung out his boxers. It was…gorgeous. Though not girthy, he was sizely. Pretty pink tip sitting on top of a lengthy shaft. He was so hard it looked painful, veins easily on display. His tip was leaky, dripping on the floor of your room.

“...That’s three times” he says quietly, stepping up to you.

Your eyes widen as he grabs you by your ankles, pulling your body closer to him. The tip of his cock slaps at your clit and you moan, a shiver running through you.

“You’ll help me cum, right princess? That was the deal” he says, “Can i put it in mama?”

The words are like liquid heat, and they send a fire to your cunt. It was a bit scary, how he had so much control over you, how he could make you feel like this so easily.

“You think i’d ever let you fuck me?” you say. It’s supposed to be mean, demeaning even. But it comes out as a breathless whisper.

Giyuu frowned at your words, “B-but you said you would” he says. He wasn't the one who had just came three times, but he could have fooled you. His voice was so disappointed, so desperate, you would have thought he was ready to cry.

And with the way he hugged your leg, eyes actually growing a bit glossy, you think he actually might.

For some reason, the look in his eye tugged at your heart strings. It was that feeling that let you know you were giving in. But you couldn’t let him completely get his way.

You bring one of your hands to your mouth, spitting on it. With that hand you reach down and grab Giyuu’s cock. And it takes everything in the man not to cum on the spot as you yank at his cock.

“Look at me” you bark at him, and he listens to your orders.

“You’d have to make me cum five times and throw a couple hundred in if you ever wanna feel this cunt around your cock” you spit, “...But i suppose since you did what i asked so well, I ‘ll let you fuck my thighs instead”

It’s not what he thought he’d end up with, but Giyuu knew you very well. It was either take this offer or leave with the rest of the project to finish alone in his room.

He’d take thigh fucking the woman of his dreams over doing work alone in his room any day.

“Okay” he agrees, voice hoarse as you let his cock free from your grip.

Giyuu maneuvers you the way he wants you and you let him. After all he had earned this. He slots his dick between your thighs, throwing your two legs over the same shoulder, effectively sandwiching the flesh together.

He gives an experimental thrust, aided from the slick coating of your thighs.

It feels weird…but good. Better than anything else he had ever felt before.

You looked up at the man, his face contorting into so many different things. Pleasure, pain, almost every sensation in the book. But you could feel his dick twitching, clearly he wasn’t minding the new terms of your deal.

It took thirty seconds for Giyuu to grow addicted to having you under him like this. And thirty seconds to start whining.

Every Time he thrust forward, his tip would knock against your clit, and in no time, he had you moaning right along with him. While yours were low, quiet moans. Giyuu clearly wanted the whole dorm hallway to hear the two of you.

He was so loud, so whiny. But he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Your thighs were so thick and smooth, hugging his cock tightly. And the warmth of your cunt along the underside of his cock was driving him crazy. It was so wet, your slick sticking to his cock, only making it easier for him to fuck your thighs faster,

Giyuu just looked so…pretty like this. Eyes shut tightly as he humped his cock along your thighs, the most desperate moans leaving his mouth. He looked like he was gonna lose his mind if he sped up any faster, but that didn’t stop him.

From the sounds of skin slapping together in your dorm, it almost sounded like he was inside you, dick deep in your guts. If he was inside you, you were sure you would have come by now. Hell, you were close just from occasional nudges of your clit.

There was so much pre spilling along your thighs, you didn’t even know it was possible for a guy to be so turned on. It was such an ego booster. To know that the man fucking your thighs was a hot mess because of you.

“Such a messy cock baby” you giggle.

The sound of your laugh and your words has Giyuu’s brain short circuiting, eyes open to look at you. You’d never called him that before.

It felt so good he could barely answer you. “I-I can’t help it” he whines. And you smile, “I know baby, I know” you coo.

“Bet you’re ready to cum all over me, huh? Little cock ready to blow” you tease.

It’s meant to be mocking but the intention goes right over Giyuu’s head. Because you were right. He was about to blow.

“M’gonna c-cum princess” he mutters.

The confession makes you squeeze your thighs around his cock harder than before, and the friction isn’t lost on him.

You weren't even worried about yourself any more. Finding yourself a bit too desperate to name him cum.

“Go on baby, make it messy f'me, yeah?”you say.

He wants to warn you, but just like you earlier. The pleasure was too overwhelming for him to speak. But not too much to stop him from whining. You gasp as his cum shoots all the way up to your tits. There’s so much of it, you can only imagine how pent up the poor boy was.

Giyuu had never cum with the help of another before, and no his virginity hadn’t been taken that day. But he had found something he thought he could stay addicted to forever.

Your thighs were heaven and even after such a nasty orgasm, he couldn’t find it in himself to stop. How could he? You just looked so pretty covered in his cum.

And he swore he was gonna lose it when you scooped some of his cum off your fat tits and licked on it.

The overstimulation was bad, and it hurt. But it felt so fucking good to be trapped between your thighs.

He swore he could stay between them forever, or until his cock was shooting ghosts.

Plus, you didn't seem to mind his desperate thrusts between your now cum covered thighs. Infact, the finger bitten between your teeth showed you had almost been enjoying this as much as him.

Almost.

YOU’LL HAVE TO PRY SUBBY GIYUU FROM MY COLD DEAD HANDS!!!!!!!~ Kinktober Masterlist|2024

#Kny #demon slayer #kny smut #demon slayer smut #demon slayer x reader #kny hashira #hashira x reader #giyuu tomioka #kny giyuu #demon slayer giyuu #giyuu smut #tomioka smut #giyuu tomioka x reader smut #giyuu x reader #kinktober #kinktober 2024

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captain-joongz · 5 months ago

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i'm back with another delicious little scenario, this time for our boy Hwa~~ hope you enjoy yourself!

hard hours are open, inbox is ready for you darlings!!! <3

HARD HOURS THOUGHTS

warnings: voyeurism, photographing sex, fingering, squirting, exhibitionism, nudity and nude photography

now, let's talk about photography major Seonghwa who uses his bestie for his final project - displays of tasteful nudity

when his professor told Seonghwa their final project in the summer semester would be tasteful nude photography, he immediately thought of you - even though it took some effort to persuade you to help him

as his bff of course you'd do anything for him, but this seemed a little far - you've never been naked in front of him, but in the end you agreed after he promised to buy you those shoes you'd been pining after - none of you could have anticipated how this would end up

Hwa chose his bed as the place and after some hesitation you stripped down to panties. it started innocent enough, with you lying on the bed and Seonghwa kneeling over you with his camera, hands barely touching you to move you to his liking. but after a while he'd get frustrated that his vision just wasn't coming through

his touches would get firmer, more demanding, grabbing roughly onto your flesh and pulling you into different positions, the artist's focus fully consuming him - and shamefully you'd start to get wet. especially when the lines started to blur and he asked for more sensuality, more eroticism and you bowed and bent under his camera, felt yourself up for the lense and grew breathless when his dark eyes took you in and appraised you

after that it didn't take long for his fingers to wander - to make it more authentic, to draw your expressions out better - just to help you out to sell it, that's what he whispered when he slipped them between your thighs and caressed your slick cunt. before you knew it your panties were off and he was three fingers in deep, wild strokes making you thrash about the bed

somehow he still managed to keep taking photos - the shutter sound and occasional flash interrupting your pleasure muddled mind as you writhed under him. and what a vision you made - body twisted beautifully, hands tied and twisted into the bedding as you sought to ground yourself, face an amalgamation of lust, pleasure and gratification.

and he'd be damned if he didn't capture the look of your climax, if he missed the clear shot of your sweet ecstasy

your orgasm somehow creeped up on you - the pleasure was so intense that you didn't even notice when it started boiling over until you were clenching on his long slender fingers and crying out, the waves of pleasure robbing you of your breath

and Hwa did take a photo of it, and weeks later after he went through heaps of shaky blurred photos depicting your little romp and salvaged a few of them, it was the centre piece of his exhibition

divider by @cafekitsune

#hard hours #ateez hard hours #ateez smut #seonghwa smut

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uno-san · 6 months ago

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Bill Cipher Vs. Self-Hatred

Howdy y'all! Today I just wanted to go over some thoughts I had over everybody's favorite triangle that may or may not have occurred to some of you already. Naturally this will contain Book of Bill Spoilers.

To start off our little essay I thought it would be important to first sum up my thoughts on one of Bill's more complicated relationships: Stanford

Now we've all seen his dynamic with Stanford plenty of times in the show but with recent information coming from both the Book of Bill and thisisnotawebsitedotcom.com more light has been shed on the subject from both Bill's perspective and Ford's.

There's more than meets the eye when it comes to dissecting Bill's interactions and thoughts on Stanford, with the ever enlightening "EVEN HIS LIES ARE LIES" making theorists scratch their heads. Within the Book of Bill are these codes and their meanings: hbh grfwru ri d gliihuhqw nlqg/ zkr zdqw wr pdnh klv sdwlhqw eolqg

eye doctor of a different kind/ who wants to make his patient blind

Qeb alzqlo pxvp/ qeobb pfmp x axv/ tfii jxhb qeb sfpflkp/ dl xtxv

The doctor says/ three sips a day/ will make the visions/ go away

Ixvvb hdwhu/ edeb eloob/ zrxogq'w gulqn/ xqohvv lwv vloob

Fussy eater/ baby billy/ wouldn't drink/ unless its silly

As well as:

Finding out that both Stanford and Bill have a genetic mutation that made them Black Sheep suggests the possibility that Bill saw a kinship within Stanford. After all, he did make the offer for Stanford to join him. No doubt being able to sympathize with Stanford's situation yet misreading his motivations, causing the rift in their once savable relationship once Bill's lies were uncovered.

Now I'll admit it was others who came up with this theory in particular, especially when drawing comparisons of how Stanford was treated and how Bill allegedly was for having a strange eye. Stanford, in some form of other, might represent how Bill was before he saw the destruction of his world by his hands. A mere outcast looking for his place in the world. To be believed rather than ridiculed or "fixed".

Self-Hatred

And now we get to the Bill we all know today:

The chaos loving and nightmare inducing three-sided maniac, who may be hiding more insecurities than he ever let on in the show, thanks to the Theraprism.

Someone far more traumatized

Who's had to convince himself to fully be the bastard he is today

But if the theory that Bill had a type of kinship with Stanford thanks to their mutations was true, then wouldn't it be possible that his relationship with someone else might represent the inner struggle with himself?

For you see, the original title of this post was...

Bill Cipher Vs. Stanley Pines

As my own theory is that Stanley Pines is what Bill decided to project his self-hatred on. Nobody can doubt that the two have similar qualities, yet as I read the Book of Bill and thisisnotawebsitedotcom I couldn't help but notice the absolute malice that Bill has for Stanley whenever he's mentioned.

There have been many opponents before that have strived to take Bill down. Whether that was the Shaman, the Anti-Cipher Society, or Time Baby, none of his interactions with them have appeared as vitriol as compared to Stanley.

Not even Stanford has this same reaction, who, by really no contest, was the closest to ever defeating Cipher by himself. Both with the gun that he near successfully killed Bill with and the secret of the barrier of Gravity Falls he refused to give up. Bill didn't even have a real interaction with Stanley until the last episode.

Yet it isn't Stanford that causes Bill to break while he's in the Theraprism. It's Stanley.

"-A resume-inflating, cheap trick loving, past-denying overgrown child protected from failure only by a force field of DENIAL AND shamelessness!"

"Self-pitying"

"Stupid"

"Smug"

"Hack Jokes"

"UNWORTHY"

Now it could be just me, but those are a lot of specific insults to fling somebody's way that you've barely interacted with. Especially if Bill credits the Twin Swap to Stanford entirely as opposed to allowing Stanley the credit.

"STEP RIGHT UP, it's time to play my FAVORITE GAME!! BOOTLEG SIXER over HERE spent a LIFETIME trying to hide his humiliations, BUT I'VE BEEN INSIDE HIS MIND, so NOW they’re ALL YOURS for the low low price of BEING MY NEW PAL! ITS SHOWTIME FOLKS, AND THE ONLY WAY TO LOSE IS TO BE NAMED STANLEY PINES!"

“SHAME:TM - IT'S THE ONE FRIEND WHO NEVER LEAVES!”

This out-of-character hatred doesn't come from the fact that Bill thought Stanley wasn't worthy, it comes from the fact that Bill sees himself in Stan. Who by all means is a lying and conniving screw up. Somebody who let his family down.

This could possibly be proven by the poem Bill had wrote about Stanley:

The whole poem suits my point but I decided to highlight the sections that caught my eye specifically. That when you put into consideration Bill's clear trauma and regret about the Euclidian Massacre, his own words can clearly be flipped back on him.

That he sees himself as a curse and a mistake. A self-made monster. Someone who's left the past behind when the loss of his home is still on his mind.

And what truly gets under Bill's skin about Stanley Pines?

"He got his life and family back.

His big break, it finally came,

Redemption from a life of shame"

Stanley got back what Bill can't.

#Gravity Falls #Book of Bill #book of bill spoilers #Stanley pines #Stanford pines #Bill cipher #Gravity Falls theory #theory #thisisnotawebsitedotcom #gf stan #gf ford #I refuse to proof read this #the book of bill

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zorostitties · 7 days ago

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Aurora; 1 (m)

⤕ Your existence had been an endless night, where shadows whispered long forgotten secrets. Trapped in a golden cage, your fragile mind and shattered memories were chains that kept you from dreaming of freedom. Then, he appeared with the first light of dawn, like a gentle sun warming your cold skin. In his gaze, the promise of a new beginning; in his presence, the sunrise your soul had longed for.

In which Alucard saves you from Erzsebet.

pairing: alucard (castlevania) x (f) reader

genre: angst, romance, slow burn, eventual smut

warnings: violence/blood, explicit language, mental health issues, grief, physical abuse.

rating: 18+

word count: 5k

A/N: i made a post some days ago complaining that there weren't enough alucard fics on tumblr. because of that, a demon possessed me to write this story. i hope you'll like it so i can continue writing the next parts lmao ❤️ feedback is always MUCH appreciated! and, as usual, english is not my first language.

⤕ Chapters: soon! ⤕ Also on AO3

Before they gave you a name, they taught you the three simple rules for survival.

Don’t scream. Don’t cry. Don’t fight.

Those rules weren’t taught using words. You learned them as they were engraved on your skin, repeatedly. Night after night. Day after day. Teeth sinking on your neck sending shockwaves of pure pain through your body. Jaws so tight around your jugular that you couldn’t breathe anymore; made you desperately grasp for air in vain. The suction noise. You hated that noise. It was coming from you. The liquid dripping from your wound, warm and sticky, gluing your dress to your skin. The smell of iron. Pain pain pain pain pain. The intense headache that followed. The darkened vision, the dizziness. Your limbs losing all of their strength.

Then - pitch black unconsciousness.

You might’ve fought the first time it happened… or the first times. It is hard to remember. You struggled. You tried to push her away. You tried to punch her, claw her face, pull her hair. And that’s when you learned the don’t fight rule. Every time you put up some sort of resistance, she’d crush you with ten times more strength. You learned, very quickly, that having your blood sucked off wasn’t the worst she or her servants could do. You learned it after broken bones and pierced organs. You learned it after ripped teeth and hair.

You learned that she took pleasure in it.

She liked to see tears streaming down your face. She rejoiced every time you begged her to just let you die.

So, you learned. Don’t scream. Don’t cry.

If you stood still, if you offered no resistance, if you just let her have her way - it would be over quicker. You learned that your blood was valuable to her. You learned that not many things were valuable to her… but your blood, for some reason, was - even though you’d see her feeding from other girls as well.

However, you also learned that all these other victims would simply die after she fed off them. Not only her victims; the members of her entourage’s victims as well. They’d get pale and lifeless very quickly. They’d get thrown away after they stopped moving, their cheeks hollow and eyes rolled back.

You learned that you weren’t like them. For some reason, you always woke up the next day as if nothing happened. Cheeks still full. Skin still colored. Heart still beating.

Perhaps… perhaps that’s what made you valuable.

So you behaved.

They gave you a bed after a while. She realized that your blood tasted better if you were well fed, so the meals got more elaborate over time. She started complimenting you. She’d make you wear the most beautiful gowns. She’d make you sit by her side, silently, as she held her numerous balls. Her guests - her subjects - would bow after her, pledge loyalty, kiss her feet. Sometimes she accepted their words. Sometimes she killed them on the spot.

You’d sit there for hours, avoiding eye contact with anyone. Her abnormally tall figure projected a shadow over you. The sound of her voice made your skin crawl. Her smell made you want to vomit.

Still, you’d behave.

She’d turn to you after she was bored of talking or sick of feeding from other girls. Her hands were bigger than anyone you’ve ever seen; her claws, as sharp as an eagle’s. Her grip on you seemed to weigh tons.

With somewhat delicacy, she touched the necklace they made you wear that night. A huge ruby stone sitting over your collarbones.

“Ruby,” she said almost in a purr. “The same color of your delicious blood.”

A shiver ran down your spine.

“It sounds like a fitting name, My Queen.” The woman that never left her side commented. Her most loyal servant.

She chuckled, passing the tip of her tongue on her fangs.

“Indeed.”

That night, they gave you a name.

Jaw tightened around your jugular. No air. Pain pain pain pain pain. You didn’t fight back. You squeezed your eyes shut, tears falling silently down your cheeks. Headache. Dizziness.

And then - darkness.

“My sister, the moon, burns brightly tonight. She’s very excited, of course.”

The full moon, indeed, lightened the entire scenery, painting it in a gorgeous silver color. It reflected on Erszebet’s golden armor with a hauntingly beautiful glow. A soft breeze played with her white skirt as she gesticulated in her speech. She sounded tired, a calculated tone of hatred in her voice, as she explained in detail the revenge she’d take on her “father”, Amun-Ra.

You scanned the new place with your eyes. A vast garden expanded ahead. What did Drolta say…? Oh, yes. France was the name of the country you’ve arrived after weeks of travel. Although the night was chilly, it was still much warmer than Erzsebet’s home, which was always covered in meters of snow. At least thirty cloaked vampires waited in line for their Messiah’s arrival, being leaded by Drolta, of course.

In the moments your brain was working with somewhat lucidity, you heard conversations about some revolution. It was hard to make much sense of what they meant exactly, for anytime they had “important” conversations with you around, you’d be usually with an open wound on your neck trying to fight the overwhelming weakness and pain. They had the care to not let you be near while you were fully conscious. During the day as most of the Messiah’s court (and herself) slept, you were locked in your quarters. You were allowed to walk out only when Erzsebet needed to feed.

You didn’t understand exactly what they meant by that - in fact, you didn’t understand much of anything at all. You didn’t know why these vampires considered Erzsebet their queen; you didn’t understand why she considered herself a queen - no, she considered herself a goddess. You didn’t know what they meant by “crushing the revolution”, and you didn’t understand what you were doing in France.

Most importantly - you didn’t understand exactly what was their interest in you.

The obvious part: you seemed to be Erzsebet’s infinite source of blood and court jester, as the fact that she could break you in every way and you’d still wake up as if nothing happened the next morning entertained her. However… she didn’t need you. The Vampire Messiah had girls being fed to her daily. It’s not as if she was going through a blood shortage anytime soon. And… it seemed that she also had immense pleasure in simply killing - something she could not achieve with you.

So why keep you around? Why keep you locked with guards holding you at all times? Why drag you along anywhere she went?

There weren’t many moments in which your mind was clear - and in those small moments, such questions screamed in your mind relentlessly. Just… just why?

Why is any of this happening?

Your mind snapped back to reality the moment you heard a new strange sound. You lifted your head to see a big golden cage being brought closer to Erzsebet.

A frightened young girl locked inside it.

The sight didn’t shock you. Yet, you couldn’t help but feel a sting of sadness.

“Daughter of a revolutionary deputy. Member of the Jacobin club.” Drolta introduced maliciously as she opened the cage with the help of her clutch. A servant dragged the brown haired girl out of the cage. You watched in solemn silence as Erzsebet floated out of her chariot.

For a moment, the girl made eye contact with you. She immediately recognized your human features. Maybe, for a split second, she might’ve found some comfort in your image, finally seeing someone like her. Her eyes begged for an explanation; begged for help.

But there was nothing you could do.

You looked down again, not wanting to see Erzsebet sinking her fangs in the young girl’s neck. Silently, you apologized for being somewhat relieved that she was there. Erszebet would leave you alone until she got satisfied of her new victim.

As the sound of her strangled whimpers filled the area, Drolta approached you.

You never got used to it - how vampires could move unnervingly fast. You had barely realized she was standing by your side when you felt her hands hold your waist on both sides, taking you off the horse back as if you were a toddler, and putting you on your feet.

She smirked.

Goosebumps crawled your skin.

Erszebet was cruel, irritating, violent and loud. You knew that very well. Yet… perhaps the fact that you knew she was incapable of actually killing you made you somewhat anesthetized of her presence.

Drolta, however, actually scared you.

She wasn’t loud or reckless, she didn’t act on her instincts like her master. No… she was calculated. It seemed that her eyes were always over everything, like she knew what anyone would do before they even moved. There was something truly ominous deep within her pink eyes. Much smarter than Erszebet. In a way, much crueler.

She caressed your cheek with the back of her fingers.

“Rejoice, Ruby. You have a very important task ahead of you.” She said in what sounded like a purr before dragging you towards a carriage.

Oh.

You… actually knew what she meant already. A memory from not long ago - or was it long ago? - came; the last time you were required to do this… task. And once more, you hated the fact that your memory was so weak, how you couldn’t recall things that should be important, should be essential. Deep down, you knew your real name wasn’t “Ruby”. You knew you might’ve had a past… maybe even a family. Yet, any time you tried to tap on these memories, nothing came. Just frustrating emptiness.

There was actually a third reason for Erzsebet to keep you around and close. A valid reason.

And it filled you with unfathomable remorse.

The chateau was a magnificent place.

You didn’t have time to explore any of it, of course – you were immediately dragged into a room as soon as the entourage arrived, mere hours before sunrise. Still, you had time to see the exquisite gardens that decorated the entrance, the river that seemed to isolate it from the rest of the world. The interior of the chateau was just as mesmerizing. Opulence radiated from every corner, with golden arabesques and crystal chandeliers.

Your room was no less impressive. The bed, big and comfortable; it was a relief to sleep on a soft surface after weeks of uncomfortable travel. The towering windows faced the back gardens and the reflective pools of the water fountains. It was even equipped with a marble bathtub.

Nothing but a golden cage. You were locked in. Two guards stood outside the doors at all times. The door only opened to deliver food three times a day and to clean the latrine.

It was… tranquil.

It had been two… three…? days since you arrived. You couldn’t be sure. In the meantime, your presence was not requested – which made you question if that same poor girl was still alive or if they’d found someone else to entertain Erzsebet. It was a relief. Truly. You didn’t have many opportunities to stay awake and sane for such a long period.

You heard music and voices coming from downstairs, meaning they had a ball at some point. From the peek of the curtains, you saw that the chateau always very busy at night. Yes, it was tranquil – but all that movement filled you with constant apprehension. A strange heaviness in your gut that didn’t let you have a peaceful sleep. Something was going to happen. Something big.

The awful feeling in your gut only got worse when, in the middle of the night, a handful of maids entered your room without warning.

They washed you without any care. They perfumed your body. They brushed and styled your hair with intricate braids that curled at the top of your head in somewhat of a bun. They applied rouge to your lips. They dressed you in a jaw-dropping, beautiful blue gown; as dark as the night sky, embroidered with silver silk lines that seemed to imitate stars peppering around the skirt. The corset was tight but not uncomfortable. It was actually a much lighter dress than the ones you used to wear back at Erzsebet’s country, given how much more pleasant the temperature in France was.

Erzsebet loved luxury. She loved jewels, diamonds, gold, beautiful dresses; she did not allow anyone to appear anything but perfect anywhere near her, as ugliness displeased her eyes. She loved the theatrics of it. That is why, as you looked at the absolutely gorgeous image of yourself in the mirror, the only thing you felt was disgust. Perfectly well put, devoid of any personality trait. Just the way Her Magnificence liked it.

And that… that fucking ruby necklace sitting over your collarbones. It seemed to burn your skin. She demanded you to always wear it.

Your personal collar.

That morning, Drolta herself came to escort you.

The woman wore a black gown made of what looked like leather. You saw her reflection on the mirror and shivered, not having noticed she had entered the room at all.

That same vicious smile adorned her features. She stepped closer, putting her hands over your shoulders, and looked straight to your eyes through the mirror.

“Beautiful as always, Ruby.” You hated that name. You hated the way she said it. Almost a mockery. “You know what you have to do, right?”

You gulped and nodded as your suspicions were confirmed. Drolta rolled her eyes.

“Did you unlearn how to speak? It has been ages since I last heard the sound of your voice.” But she didn’t give you time to answer, dragging you out of the room by the arm instead. The two cloaked guards followed shortly. “You should be proud of yourself, Ruby. Being able to help Her Magnificence is the greatest honor of all. You do know you are the only human she allows in her court, right?”

Oh, what a great honor. You felt your fingers beginning to shake as you approached the ceremonies hall, hearing the sound of multiple voices fast approaching.

It was, indeed, crowded.

The curtains covered all of the windows, since it was early in the morning; the sun reigned in the sky. Some vampires wore the typical black cloaks and some wore aristocratic attires. Quiet conversation filled the great hall. There was an air of expectation and excitement. It only made your guts twist more.

Not many paid attention to your arrival – their queen kept their attention locked on her, standing near the guard rail on the double stairs. You recognized some faces from Erzsebet’s palace; some were completely new. A few sent you the usual looks of thirst upon the realization that you were human. You tried not to make eye contact with anyone.

However, your eyes locked with one of the new faces very briefly. A brown-skinned man, wearing a luxurious purple attire. His long black hair fell to right side of his face, adorning his beautiful features. His green eyes didn’t hold any thirst or malice like the others. He just looked… curious. Astute. You quickly averted your eyes somewhere else.

Just to spot another face – and this time, the sting of sadness in your heart came back.

It was… it was that girl from before.

She wore a white gown – but the collar of the corset was tainted with her own blood. She had very visible open wounds on both sides of her neck. Standing by the stairs, she barely had the strength to support her own weight; her once olive skin now looked unhealthily pale.

You gulped.

Watching her in that state was like seeing yourself. Except this girl was going to die. Very soon.

How was she still alive?

The vampire kept dragging you by the arm, seemingly not noticing your apparent shock. When you passed by the girl on your way up the stairs, she recognized you again – and, once more, sent you a gaze that seemed to scream for help.

That was worse than a punch in the gut.

Drolta made you stop some steps away from Erzsebet. The Vampire Messiah did not bother to look back at you; as you already knew, she was preparing herself to what was about to come. Behind you, an obelisk with inscriptions and engravings was placed. Another cloaked servant approached. He carried a heavy, ancient book on his hands; its cover was made of black old leather, and although it was fading away due to the book’s apparent antique, you could see the outline of an image of the moon on it.

Drolta took the book in her arms, opening it on a specific page, and handed it to you.

“It is time.” She said with a voice filled of pride. “Take your part on the rise of Her Magnificence, and you may have our eternal gratitude.”

You didn’t want their eternal gratitude.

But that’s not what made you hesitate.

After looking at the book, your fragile memories came back with more clarity. You… you did this ritual twice before. You couldn’t tell how long ago. After it was over, you were locked back to your cell as usual, you didn’t exactly see what happened next – but you didn’t really need to see anything to understand the gravity of what it caused.

Even inside your room, you remembered feeling the stench of rotten human flesh for days.

Just… how many people must’ve died?

At this point, you were resigned to being hurt. You didn’t really see any point in trying to escape the claws of those two supernaturally powerful vampires – it’d only bring you more pain. But one thing was getting hurt... another was getting others hurt because of you. You didn’t want to be the harbinger of death again. Whatever they were planning, you didn’t want to participate.

So you froze in place. Sweat dripped down your temples. Your heartbeat increased.

“What… what are you going to do?” you asked, mustering the courage to speak in a quiet voice.

Drolta wasn’t smiling anymore.

She stepped closer, towering over you. Her eyes burned with contempt and cruelty. She brought her lips close to your ear, not to draw unwanted attention.

“Horrible timing to decide to be brave, darling.” She hissed. “Do what you’re told or she’ll face the consequences.”

She grabbed your face by the cheeks and forced your head towards the stairs.

The girl in white stood there, watching everything with frightened eyes.

You gasped.

She had noticed.

Drolta chuckled.

“We know we can hurt you as we please, dear Ruby… but her? How much do you think she can handle?” You felt the warm press of her lips on your cheek. “Will you condemn her to a slow, horrid death in the name of your bravery?” She whispered, her voice dripping with mockery.

Your breath came shaky and difficult. The room seemed to blur for a second. You knew she wasn’t bluffing. She never did.

Slowly, you took the book from her hands.

Drolta released you with a satisfied grin. She patted the top of your head.

“Good girl.”

She stepped aside.

Your fingers were shaking. The book was heavy. It smelled of mold.

You sat down on the cool marble floor directly behind Erzsebet, the long skirt cascading around your body. You placed the book in front of you. The paper was yellowed and frail; it might rip off if you touched it. The pages had no images, only text handwritten in red ink.

You didn’t understand the words written. However, for some reason, you could read them clearly, although it sounded like nothing to you. You closed your eyes tightly, silently apologizing again for what you were about to do.

Erzsebet raised her head.

It was your sign.

You started to read the enchantment.

Your voice was nothing but a whisper. As the unknown words left your mouth, an already familiar feeling of disgust grew. You didn’t know what those words meant, but something deep within you – inside that darkened part of your brain where your memories must’ve been hidden – knew you were saying something blasphemous, hideous, something that went against your very nature.

Erzsebet seemed to fall into a trance when she heard those words. She inhaled them – the spell – as if they were smoke. Something as heavy as iron weighed over the hall, making all the spectators apprehensive. The tall, red-haired vampire started to gesticulate with wide, almost dance-like movements.

There was a crack in the air in front of her. Then, as she gesticulated, an orb of pure black and white energy materialized. The spectators gasped in awe.

Her movements became more frantic. The orb grew larger. You kept reading, feeling your throat going dry, your body getting weaker with each word. It’s as if Erzsebet was not only absorbing your words, but also your strength. Your eyes blurred with tears which you blinked rapidly to dissipate.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please, forgive me.

The eclipse started.

Slowly, a shadow made its way to cover the moon.

More gasps of awe.

Forgive me.

“Behold, the Devourer of Light!” Drolta announced with pride and admiration. Erzsebet laughed.

Please, forgive me. I’m sorry.

The curtains were dragged. The windows were opened with a gust of wind. The vampires rejoiced.

You gasped for air.

The enchantment was over. There was no more strength in your body.

You covered your face with your hand, not daring to raise your eyes and see the horde of vampires flying free through the windows. You didn’t pay attention to whomever took you back to your room and locked you there. You didn’t have enough energy to get up from the carpet.

For the first time in days, you closed your eyes and slept - hoping to never wake up again and face the horrors you helped unleash in the world.

There was something wrong.

You felt it in the air. A heavy tension. A strange silence.

That was not what you expected after the eclipse. Usually, what followed was a celebration of the conquer, a banquet filled with hundreds of victims upon whom the vampires feasted. Laughter, music, screams of agony, the horrible stench of blood and carcasses.

But now, it was… eerie.

With your body aching from sleeping on the floor, you glued your head to the door in hopes of getting a clue of what might’ve happened. All you heard were fast steps and shushed whispers. You noticed something was definitely wrong as hours went by and no one came to bring you breakfast.

Is it possible that Erzsebet’s plan – whatever it was – went wrong?

These thoughts churned in your mind as you took off the jewelry, undid the tight hairstyle and took off the under layers of skirt that made the dress puffier. Who could possibly go against Erzsebet or Drolta? At this point, your only memories were of being surrounded by vampires. The few humans you met didn’t last that long. You’ve been around them for long enough to understand that most vampires were only slightly stronger and faster than humans. It wasn’t easy or quick to become powerful – and the Vampire Messiah had some fairly powerful servants under her command. In fact, you didn’t think anyone could be more powerful than Drolta. Erzsebet could summon an eclipse, but she didn’t seem to be as experienced in battle as her right hand woman.

As far as your suspicions went, you could be sure that, unfortunately, the insufferable red-haired vampire wasn’t defeated. There were still guards outside your doors. Whatever happened, it wasn’t enough to stop her from accomplishing her… plan.

Sitting in front of the dressing table while you untied one of the braids in your head, you looked at yourself in the mirror. Without the rouge, the jewelry, the neat hairstyle. You were just a shell of a woman, really. Whenever you had enough time to really think about your life – in those brief moments when you weren’t in the brink of unconsciousness or fighting against the pain –, the only thing you could feel was… frustration. It wasn’t even sadness or hatred, only plain frustration. You knew there was something wrong with your head. You knew that immense void in your memory couldn’t be normal. Still, there was nothing you could do about it. They never gave you time to think, to maybe plan an escape strategy. But even if you did – how could you actually run away? You didn’t have the strength to face a vampire head on, even the “weak” ones. And you knew the types of punishment you’d be put through if you were caught.

You always healed, yes. But it didn’t make the pain less painful. Drolta could be very creative in her ways of ensuring your utter submission.

In the end, you were reminded of why you always chose to sleep through most of your sanity. While awake, you were constantly reminded of your current situation and your inability to change it. At least while you slept, you had… peace.

The clock on the wall hit noon. Your stomach was empty, yet you didn’t know if you wanted to eat.

That’s when you caught something with the corner of your eye.

It was quick and silent – barely a flap of wings. You turned your head in time to see a strange mass of black materializing in your room, passing through the breach of the window.

Your eyes widened. Your heart jumped.

That mass took the form of a man.

Your immediate feeling was fear. That was, very clearly, a vampire. His skin was pale as snow, just like his long hair, which cascaded over his broad shoulders. His eyes were hazel, almost golden; they seemed to glow faintly under the shadow cast over his face. He was tall. His attire was black from head to toe – boots, gloves, jacket, cape. He had a calm, yet ferocious expression – analytical, even – as his eyes locked onto yours. He held a long silver sword, its tip pointed directly at you.

The obvious threat in his position should frighten you even more. But that was not was you focused on.

Sunlight hit him through the windows, casting a halo on the back of his head. His hair shimmered with the glow of a million silver coins. It made him look… holy. Like the frescoes you had seen of the Christian God painted on the ceiling of a church Erzsebet once destroyed.

How… how could he…?

“You can come with me peacefully.” He said quietly. His voice was deep. Husky. He almost sounded… calm. But you wouldn’t let yourself be fooled by that; it was unyielding as stone. The stranger didn’t blink for a moment, his eyes tracking your every small movement like a tiger stalking its prey.

He was, in fact, not giving you a choice. The sword in his hand, unwavering and pointed at you, made that very clear.

Your breath got caught in your throat.

There were many things you could’ve said. You knew that man could and would hurt you if you moved too abruptly. Barely five seconds in his presence and you understood: like Drolta, he wasn’t one to bluff.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to feel more afraid, because as he spoke, you caught a glimpse of his fangs – and that other feeling grew stronger.

Curiosity.

“Y-You’re a vampire. How are you standing in the sunlight?” was all you could mutter in frightened amazement.

The stranger didn’t drop his threatening position, yet he tightened his eyes in a subtle sign of surprise. It seemed that your sudden question caught him off guard.

“Don’t you know who I am?” he asked, keeping the same tone. It was your turn to frown. You clasped your hands together, resting them over your legs, and shook your head. How and why would you know him?

“I’m afraid not, sir.”

He narrowed his eyes even more. It looked like he was searching for something, inspecting you with a new type of interest.

“I find it hard to believe that one of Erzsebet’s servants wouldn’t know of me by now.”

You gulped, tightening your own clasped hands.

“I… don’t know many things, sir.”

The stranger still watched you, in silence, for a few more seconds. It hit you in that moment the reason for his apparent confusion. He expected you to fight him.

Then, he straightened his position. You eyes widened with apprehension and shock when he let go of his long sword and it floated – the weapon stood with its hilt turned to the ceiling a few centimeters away from the floor, emitting an eerie metallic sound as it moved.

The man approached you. He was silent – so silent that, if you weren’t directly looking at him, you probably wouldn’t know someone was moving in the same room as you. As if he had dropped that ferocity, he sat down on the bed in front of you with a newly serene expression.

“I was rude in my approach. My apologies.” his voice mirrored the serenity of his face. “I am Alucard.”

Your breath got caught in your throat once more.

You didn’t know what was more shocking. His sudden change in behavior, his absolute calm while in enemy territory… or the fact that he was beautiful.

Again – you were more used to vampires than humans at this point. Every vampire had an uncanny beauty to them. They were attractive and scary at the same time. While you could see and sense very well that this man still represented danger… the “uncanny” aspect didn’t apply to him. He looked young (being a vampire, that didn’t mean much), a man of soft yet striking features.

Ethereal was the word you were looking for.

You noticed that he was paying attention if you were going to react to his name, which you didn’t. You also noticed that he was waiting for you to present yourself as well. Slow reactions. You weren’t used to talking.

“My name is…” your words trailed off.

For the first time, you averted your eyes from his, grabbing the blue fabric of your skirt in discomfort.

“They call me Ruby, sir.”

The man – Alucard – quirked one eyebrow slightly. “Is it not your real name?”

You sighed tiredly. “I don’t think so. No.”

Alucard hummed. His voice was so deep that it seemed to reverberate in your bones. He crossed his arms. “And do you have any idea of why I am here, Maybe-Ruby?”

The unexpected humorous way in which he called you caught you by surprise. Still, once more, you gulped, apprehension growing yet again.

“To… get revenge, I suppose?” The vampire looked genuinely confused for the first time. His quirked eyebrow was an unspoken question. It made you avoid his eyes once again, feeling a mix of anxiety and embarrassment. “For the eclipse.”

He went silent for some moments.

“Did you cause the eclipse?” You heard a sting of danger in his question that only made your heartbeat increase.

“I helped. Somehow.”

“Why?” He was growing more inquisitive.

“I didn’t have a choice, sir.” You blurted out nervously.

Alucard hummed yet again.

When he let out a tired sigh, you finally looked back at him.

“To answer my previous question,” he said as he got up from the bed. “I came here to kidnap you. But it looks like I’m saving you, as Erzsebet seems to be as much of a threat to you.”

You gasped, widened you eyes.

He… he wanted to take you out of here?

The anxiety made your fingers shake. You felt nervous, excited, hopeful… scared. Hell, were you scared. How in the world would this man take you out of here alive? Floating sword or not, did he even stand a chance against Drolta?

“However, I will need your help in return, Ruby,” Alucard continued, now looking back at the windows. “I see you don’t know many things, but I’d appreciate if you made some effort. Now, let’s go. I’m already abusing the opportunity my associate gave me…”

“Wait.”

You grabbed his wrist in a desperate move.

Alucard looked at your hands, then at you – once again, confused and shocked.

You were shaking.

“Thank you for your help, sir. You are very kind.” you managed to blurt out somehow. “B-But I don’t think Erzsebet will ever let me go. She… she has very powerful servants. One of them, Drolta… she will hunt me to the ends of the earth. I don’t want you to get hurt because of me, sir.”

You didn’t dare to look up at him.

Perhaps you were being too emotive. You barely knew this man at all; what proof did you have that he wasn’t as cruel as the vampires that were keeping you imprisoned? But at least – and for the first time you could remember – he was somewhat kind to you. He didn’t offend you, didn’t physically hurt you… and that alone was much more than anyone had offered for as long as you knew.

Maybe he could get out of here safely. He wouldn’t have Erzsebet and her entourage hunting him down. Maybe he still had a chance-

Your train of thought derailed the moment you heard his… chuckle.

Your heart jumped within your chest the moment he, with much delicacy, put his own gloved hand over yours and squeezed it reassuringly.

You finally looked up.

Alucard had a small smile on his lips. It wasn’t one of the mean, mocking smirks you were used to. The suspicion disappeared from his eyes, his eyebrows were not longer tense. He looked… gentle. More than that… there was a glint of humor in his eyes, as if he found the situation funny.

The sun that streamed through the windows seemed to shine even brighter, surrounding his entire figure in golden glow that matched his eyes. Yes, he looked holy. Otherworldly.

“I won’t get hurt,” he assured with tenderness. “And neither will you.”

Time itself seemed to stop at that moment.

He didn’t boast about being all-powerful. And you realized that he didn’t need to. Underneath his gentle eyes, you saw unwavering confidence; quiet, motionless and imposing like a mountain. In a way, it was much more menacing than any of Erzsebet’s scandalous actions or bloodbaths.

And for the first time, such menace wasn’t directed at you. It was on your favor.

That was your chance. The only real chance you ever got as far as your frail memory knew. A chance of living in a world where you didn’t have to follow the three survival rules.

Don’t fight. Don’t scream. Don’t cry.

But you wanted to fight. You wanted to scream. You wanted to cry.

You wanted to live.

So when Alucard offered his hand, you took it and got up from the chair.

You didn’t need to say anything. The silver-haired vampire nodded with satisfaction as his sword companion floated closer to him.

“Let’s go.”

Then, you followed Alucard towards the sun – towards the dawn of a new life.

#castlevania #castlevania nocturne #alucard x reader #alucard x you #alucard #adrian tepes #adrian fahrenheit tepes #castlevania alucard #alucard adrian tepes #castlevania x reader #I AM ACTUALLY VERY EXCITED ABOUT THIS FIC YALLLLL #IT'S BEEN A WHILE!!!!#i will edit that cover tho after my photoshop stops acting up

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chrissssssmut · 4 days ago

Text

CORPORATE CAPTIVITY

Yandere Minji, Haerin, Hanni, Danielle, Hyein x Male Reader

Note: THIS WAS FINISHED WAY BACK BUT I DECIDED TO DO SOME REQUESTS FIRST 😭🙏 Enjoy!♥️

You used to be nothing.

Just another office worker, invisible to your coworkers, unnoticed by the five most dominant women in the marketing department—Minji, Hanni, Danielle, Haerin, and Hyein.

But then you got good.

Your reports were flawless. Your projects secured major clients. The higher-ups started depending on you.

And suddenly, the girls weren’t so untouchable anymore.

Their work was overlooked in favor of yours. Their names weren’t the first to be called in meetings. Their promotions, which once seemed inevitable, now seemed uncertain.

At first, they ignored you. Then, they resented you.

Then, they decided to fix the problem.

It was late. The office was empty. You were the last one working.

At least, you thought you were alone.

You heard the door click shut behind you.

Five shadows loomed over your desk.

Minji. Hanni. Danielle. Haerin. Hyein.

“Y/N,” Minji said, her voice silky smooth. “Working hard again?”

You stiffened. “What do you want?”

Danielle smiled. “You’re so tense. Relax.”

You stood up. “I should go.”

But you didn’t make it two steps before something sharp pricked your neck.

A burning sensation spread through your veins. Your vision blurred.

You turned, dazed, heart pounding. “W-what…”

Hanni’s smirk was the last thing you saw before you collapsed.

Then—

Darkness.

You woke up in a bedroom that wasn’t yours.

The windows were locked. The door was barred.

Panic surged through you.

You pounded on the door. “LET ME OUT!”

Laughter.

The lock clicked, and the door creaked open.

There they were.

Minji leaned against the frame. Hanni sipped coffee. Danielle, Haerin, and Hyein stood just behind them, eyes glinting with amusement.

“Morning, sunshine,” Minji purred.

Your stomach churned. “W-where am I?”

Danielle grinned. “Home.”

“Whose home?” Your voice shook.

“Ours,” Haerin said simply.

You took a step back. “This is insane. You can’t just kidnap me—”

Minji sighed. “Kidnap? No, Y/N. This is a career intervention.”

Danielle giggled. “You were too good at your job. We had to do something.”

Your mouth ran dry. “L-let me go. Please.”

Hyein smirked. “Begging already? That was fast.”

You clenched your fists. “I won’t help you.”

Minji arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Hanni set a laptop on the desk. “Your first assignment. Fix our reports.”

You didn’t move.

Danielle smiled sweetly. “You don’t want to make this hard, do you?”

You glared at them. “I’d rather die.”

Minji’s smile didn’t waver.

She just stepped forward—so close you could feel her breath on your skin.

Then she grabbed your wrist and squeezed.

You winced. “S-stop—”

She leaned in. “You think this is bad?” Her grip tightened. “Keep resisting.”

You swallowed hard.

Hanni giggled. “Oh, he’s shaking. Cute.”

You gritted your teeth. “Go to hell.”

Minji finally let go. “Fine.”

That night, you weren’t allowed to eat.

Or sleep.

They left you in darkness. No light. No sound.

You lasted three days before hunger won.

Your hands trembled as you typed out the reports.

Minji ran a hand through your hair. “Good boy.”

Time lost meaning.

They controlled everything. When you ate. When you slept. When you spoke.

Every day, it got worse.

Hanni dropped a stack of documents in front of you. “Make this perfect.”

You glared. “I—”

Danielle wrapped an arm around your shoulder, nails digging into your skin. “Do you really want to test us, Y/N?”

Haerin whispered in your ear. “Be good. Or we make it worse.”

Your hands shook as you picked up the pen.

Danielle smiled. “That’s better.”

Then, one night, you snapped.

“I CAN’T DO THIS!” You shoved everything off the desk. “PLEASE—JUST LET ME GO!”

Silence.

Minji sighed. “I didn’t want to do this.”

She held up your company ID. Snapped it in half.

Hanni threw your work badge into the fireplace.

Danielle dangled your apartment keys in front of you—then dropped them into the flames.

Your entire life burned away in front of you.

You collapsed to your knees. “No…”

Minji crouched in front of you, tilting your chin up. “You have nothing left, Y/N.”

“You belong to us now.”

Tears blurred your vision. Your body trembled.

You were trapped.

And the worst part?

You weren’t sure if you even wanted to leave anymore.

One night, Minji sat beside you.

“You’ve been so obedient lately,” she mused, stroking your hair.

You shivered. “I… I just don’t want to be punished.”

Hanni chuckled. “That’s cute.”

Danielle rested her chin on your shoulder. “You like this, don’t you?”

Your stomach twisted. “N-no—”

Minji smirked. “Then why haven’t you tried to run?”

Your breath hitched.

Because she was right.

You should have fought harder. Screamed louder. But you didn’t.

You swallowed. “I—I was scared.”

Minji’s lips brushed your ear. “Or maybe you’ve finally accepted it.”

You trembled.

Hanni grinned. “Good boy.”

And deep down, you realized something terrifying.

You had stopped thinking about escaping.

And maybe, just maybe—

You didn’t want to.

One night, you were alone with Danielle.

She sat on the bed, watching you.

“You love us now, don’t you?” she murmured.

You swallowed. “I—I don’t—”

She crawled forward, her fingers brushing your cheek.

“Then why do you follow orders without question?”

Your hands trembled. “Because you’ll punish me if I don’t.”

Danielle’s lips curled. “No, Y/N.”

She leaned in.

“You follow orders because you love us.”

Your heart pounded.

“No.”

“Yes.”

You shook your head.

“Say it,” Danielle whispered. “Say you love us.”

You trembled.

And then—

Your lips parted.

“I… I love you.”

Danielle grinned. “Good boy.”

And as the words left your mouth—

You realized you meant it.

Epilogue – The Perfect Pet

It had been six months since your disappearance.

The office whispered about you sometimes.

“Did he quit?”

“I heard he got an offer somewhere else.”

“No way, he would’ve told someone.”

But no one ever found out the truth.

Because you never left.

And when you finally returned?

You weren’t the same.

The doors of the office swung open.

Silence fell.

Five figures stepped in—Minji, Hanni, Danielle, Haerin, and Hyein.

And behind them?

You.

Dressed perfectly. Groomed. Eyes lowered.

You followed exactly three steps behind them, hands folded in front of you.

People stared.

One of your former colleagues hesitated. “Y/N?”

You lifted your head slightly.

Minji ran a hand through your hair. “Speak, pet.”

You shivered.

And then—

A soft, obedient, “Yes, Minji.”

The room froze.

The colleague laughed nervously. “Uh… What?”

Hanni smirked. “Oh, didn’t you hear?”

She tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet their gaze.

“He works for us now.”

Danielle stroked your cheek. “Doesn’t he look cute like this?”

You flushed.

Haerin whispered, “Say it.”

Your breath trembled.

“I belong to them.”

Murmurs filled the room.

“What the hell happened to him?”

“Is he serious?”

But you didn’t care.

Because you had no thoughts but their thoughts.

No desires but their desires.

No life but the one they gave you.

Minji turned to you. “Kneel.”

Without hesitation—

You dropped to your knees.

Gasps echoed.

A manager stormed over. “This is insane. Y/N, you’re a valuable employee! You can’t—”

Minji clicked her tongue. “Shh.”

She snapped her fingers.

You crawled forward and pressed your cheek against her thigh, eyes blank.

The manager’s face paled.

Hyein smirked. “See? He’s happy.”

The manager opened his mouth—

And then hesitated.

Because you were smiling.

No one saved you.

No one stopped them.

Because deep down, everyone could see—

You didn’t want to be saved.

And as you knelt beside them, devotion burning in your eyes—

You realized something.

This wasn’t imprisonment anymore.

This was love.

This was home.

And you would never leave again.

Not because you couldn’t.

But because you didn’t want to.

The End.

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felassan · 2 months ago

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David Gaider: "It occurs to me, after reading posts getting it spectacularly wrong, that there are a lot of misconceptions over how game studios organize and, in particular, who makes the actual decisions about what ends up in your game. Much of it is by folks who don't *try* to get it... but not all, surely. I'll explain it a bit, but a big caveat: I'm going to talk in generalities and roles. Actual titles vary (a lot) from studio and studio, and the bigger a studio is the more segmented their departments (and thus management) is going to be. Even so, most studios, big and small, kind of work the same. To start, you're going to break your devs up into at least three groups: design (what is the game? how does it work?), art (what will it look like?), and engineering (making it go). There can be a lot of cross-over and some departments that don't fit into a project structure (QA, Marketing, etc.)"

Rest of post under cut due to length.

"There's going to be someone in charge of these groups - these are usually called "leads" or "senior leads". The actual title varies. The Design Lead could be a Lead Designer, for instance, or it could be a Creative Director and a Lead Designer is what they call someone further down the chain."

"These leads all report to a Project Director, someone who's job it is to manage the project as a whole. Now, this part gets a little dicey. Depending on the studio, this role can be anything from more production-oriented (they control the schedule) to an outright auteur who micro-manages everything."

"More importantly, it's the PD who hands down the project goals to the Leads: the strategic goals, the needed features, the shape of it all, etc. The Leads then figure out how their department is going to tackle those, and work with each other. If the Leads conflict, it's the PD's role to solve it. How much autonomy or ownership those Leads have is, like I said, really up to the individual PD and that studio's culture. Even in the case of a PD who has a lot of authority over the project, however, they still report to the studio leadership (unless it's the same person, like in a small studio)."

"The studio leadership is going to be giving the PD their marching orders, often in the form of those strategic goals. If there's a publisher involved, that's where the studio leadership is likely getting those goals. The PD, then, ends up being the person who has to negotiate with everyone above."

"What does this mean? If the studio or publisher has concerns about the project, they're calling in the PD to explain. If the project needs more time or resources, it's on the PD to explain to them why and how and when. If there are a lot of layers above the PD... yes, it's a looot of meetings. So while the PD is managing up, the Leads are managing down. With big projects, that means managing the "sub-leads"... those in charge of the individual sections of their department. It'd be unmanageable otherwise, and the bigger the project the more of these there are going to be."

"What does this mean? Well, let's look at the way BioWare broke up Design (as of 8 years ago, anyhow). Design consisted of Narrative Design, Level Design, Systems Design, Gameplay Design, and Cinematic Design (who worked in tandem with Cinematic Animation, which actually fell under the Art Lead)."

"The sub-leads are handed their goals by the lead, and work out how they're going to produce their particular corner of the game and also, more importantly, how they're going to work with each other. Conflicts between sub-leads are handled by the lead, as are ANY conflicts with other departments. What conflicts could there be, you ask? Dependencies, for one. "I can't do X until Y is done, but Y is someone else's job". Or scope. "We need 20 doodads but the sub-lead said they only have time to make 10, what now?". Even outright differences in vision. Big projects means room for a LOT of egos. If you think this is easier with a smaller (or indie) project, the answer is "yes, but not really". The roles are still necessary but often get combined into one person. Or outsourced, and someone still needs to manage the outsourcing. Things fall off over-full plates. It's a different kind of hard. Anyhow, the point of all this is: the further you go down the chain, the smaller the box you can play in is. The less you have actual say over, and even then that say is subject to being overridden by ANYONE above... and must still play nicely with the needs and goals of the other departments. You also need to keep in mind that projects are constantly in flux. Problems that were thought solved need re-solving. The team falls behind schedule and scope needs to change. You are constantly in a dance, within your tiny box, trying to figure out sub-optimal solutions that cause the least pain. And there will be pain. Shit rolls downhill, as they say, and when the project encounters big issues that means those high up have the sad job of figuring out how to spread it out and who can afford to take the hardest hit. If you're that one, you take it on the chin and you deal. This is the job. Lastly, I'll re-iterate: not every studio works this way, exactly. The roles exist, sure, but are not divided up so neatly or as easily identifiable. Even so, this should give you an idea what "lead" and "sub-lead" mean... and perhaps help you imagine what it's like existing further down the chain."

[source thread]

#bioware #video games #long post #longpost #dragon age #mass effect

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lurkingshan · 2 months ago

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Random QL Superlatives: 2024 Edition

My friends! It is time once again to reflect back on the year and give out some random ass awards to the things that gave me joy in the many QLs I watched.

In no particular order, this year’s winners:

Best Long Term Glow Up: Off Jumpol as Jane in The Trainee

I've been simping for Jumpol since the Puppy Honey days, because I know potential when I see it! This year the rest of y'all finally caught up with me and realized this man is aging like a fine wine. We all won!

Most Valuable Prop: Aoyanagi Hajime Standee, I Became the Main Role of a BL Drama

Will anything ever make me laugh as hard as Akafuji opening the door to Aoyanagi Hajime while holding an Aoyanagi Hajime standee and then running for his life, standee tucked under his arm, to escape the mortification? If so, it's def another joke from this show.

Best Heart Destroying Angst: Every Moment of Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo

Sometimes you just want a show to break your heart into a million tiny pieces and then stitch it back together, and there is no better version of that experience this year than this beautiful show.

Wackiest Premise That Somehow Works: Caged Again

Whomst could have predicted that a BL about a penguin who turns into a human, goes to high school, and falls in love with a panther would be one of the sweetest, most compelling stories of the year.

Most Precious Bean: Taishin, Takara's Treasure

Just look at his cute little face!! My son has never done anything wrong in his life. He's adorable and I won't hear a word against him.

Drama Child of the Year: Young San, Century of Love

My soul fully tried to leave my body every time this child appeared on screen. I must congratulate this child actor--his name is Chayanan Akkharadumrongdet--on perfectly embodying the spirit of an old man trapped in a tiny body. Give this boy an award!

Best Love Theme: Di Inakala by Paul Pablo, Marahuyo Project

youtube

Such a gorgeous song, first used while King reads Ino's letter and realizes Ino has feelings for him. Hits me right in the chest every time I hear it.

Best Sex Scene - Almond and Latte's first time, Knock Knock Boys

Everyone else can throw in the towel, this is the best depiction of a loving but awkward first time that will ever be committed to film.

Star of My Vision Board: Yako, She Loves to Cook and She Loves to Eat

Oprah said it best: “She is the mother I never had, she is the sister everybody would want. She is the friend that everybody deserves. I don't know a better person.”

Outstanding Achievement in Old Man Yaoi: Mr. Mitsuya's Planned Feeding

It's not every day that a show manages to sell you on a 20+ year age gap, but this one did it without breaking a sweat and had us all rooting for Ishida to eat that old man up with a spoon.

Best Sight Gag: Rock Lifting Karan Over His Shoulder, Cherry Magic Thailand

Is it the way Rock bends down and grabs him with no warning? The way Karan still does a polite wai over his shoulder? The way Dujdao scurries after them? Idk but it's been 10 months and I am still laughing.

Best Absolute Mindfuck: Love for Love's Sake

Sometimes a scene from this drama will flash through my mind and I'll have to spend a few minutes just staring at the wall, and that's how you know it was damn good.

Most Brainrot Inducing: Unknown

The way this story had a chokehold on my brain for three entire months was no joke.

Swooniest Love Interest: Mahasamut, Love Sea

Just look at this glorious man! And on top of all that visual splendor, he's kind and generous and brave and smart and competent and high key a smart ass. In this house we love Mahasamut!

Best Classic Watch: The Miracle of Teddy Bear

The most delightfully surprising watch of the year for me, and a great reminder to never, ever trust anything MDL commenters say about a show.

Y'all know the drill: feel free to join in and post your own superlatives, and please tag me if you do!

#bl superlatives 2024 #the trainee #i became the main role of a bl drama #let free the curse of taekwondo #caged again the series #century of love #knock knock boys #cherry magic th #love for love's sake #she loves to cook and she loves to eat #love sea the series #unknown the series #mr mitsuyas planned feeding #the miracle of teddy bear #takara no vidro #marahuyo project #shan shouts into the void

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chiasaaa · 18 days ago

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— truly, madly, deeply…

itoshi sae x f! reader

summary: everyone has a moment of weaknesses. you happen to have that after being overworked to your limit and sometimes, all you need is one person to feel better.

warning: english is not my first language. apologies for any grammatical or spelling errors.

— dating a football superstar like itoshi sae has its pros and cons. for someone as busy and goal-driven as you, the pros have always contributed the heavier weight on the scale. dating sae couldn’t be more perfect with the how you easily align in terms of career plans. he had always been destined to become one of the greatest football players in the world, and you have glued your eyes on your fashion empire from the very start.

even so, sae always made sure to have time for you the same way you did to him. while you bend heaven and hell just to watch his matches, he always whips through sand and snow to celebrate every milestone and every occasion with you.

truly, you couldn’t ask for more from the loyal guy.

or so you thought.

recently, with the amount of work you’ve been drowning in, you couldn’t help but wish he was by your side to hold you through a breakdown. you never allow yourself to be vulnerable, especially when you’re alone. you need sae to be with you for you to actually let out a tiny bit of your feelings.

quite ironic, if you think about it.

the only person you can be vulnerable to is the one person in the world who seems to be rid of emotions. contrary to popular belief, sae is just the perfect person to confide to at one’s worst—well, maybe only yours.

you: i miss you

it was an attempt to start a small conversation tonight as you’re drinking your frustrations away with a glass of wine kept in your shared home. though, it feels more like it’s a single-person house with how much he’s spent time overseas.

the scent of his cologne no longer lingers in your cozy home. the scented candles that he gifted you so you won’t feel alone had run dry. even the love note he left on the fridge before he left fell down just this morning.

it isn’t like you to be dwelling too much on the little things, and you simply brush them off when it does come to mind in passing. whether it’s the alcohol entering your system or the fact that you’re reading the tabloids as to how so many of your loyal customers are expectant of your valentine’s product line, you simply knew that your emotions are running your mind.

not an ounce of logic is with you right now. quite the rare sight, would be sae’s opinion if he were there.

four hours turned to five and sae’s yet to respond to your desperate text. by now, you’ve downed at least half of the newly opened bottle and finally allowed a few beads of tears slip down. not enough to bawl your heart out, but to allow your vision to clear up a bit as it already pooled to the limit.

itoshi sae had no idea you’re going through such a rough patch in the three weeks he’s gone. supposedly, it was only for three days to settle his passport back in japan, but the blue lock project certainly caught his attention and had him cancelling his flight. he informed you of the changes and the reason to do so, and you were completely fine with it.

if anything, you hoped it would help your boyfriend somehow mend his messy relationship with his brother, and you were fully supportive of the notion. no one could have expected this, and it wasn’t anyone’s fault at all.

three weeks passed by so fast that the tear-stained baby that was you didn’t even notice that tonight was his flight back home. you heard keys faintly jiggling from the other side of the wooden door, sniffing as you figured it’s just another neighbor mistaking your home for theirs.

“ya llegué,” i’m home.

sae didn’t know what to feel the moment he sees your disheartened figure sitting on a stool by the bar counter, but the moment he hears your sobs, he dropped his bags down the floor and hurriedly walked to your side.

“what’s wrong, mi vida?” he asks gently, taking you in his arms upon instinct. the stool complied as it twists you around to face him, allowing you to finally go full-on sobbing on his chest. the sound of your wails brought a crack to his heart with every cry, and sae could only wish he’d endure the pain in your stead.

in the three years you’ve been together, sae had only seen you break down twice. the first wasn’t even meant to be a breakdown if it weren’t for him encouraging you to be more honest with him. the second was a little more intentional, surrendering to the fact that you’re in need of comfort amidst a lonely year.

this time, however, he doesn’t know what plagues your mind enough to start talking. instead, he placed a hand at the back of your head to soothe your scalp while the other ran itself up and down your back. he silently stood there and let you release all of your pent-up frustrations until you’re capable of speaking again.

“w-why are you here so soon?” you snap back to reality after a few minutes, lunging back straight to wipe the remaining tears in your bloodshot eyes. “don’t you have that match against blue lock? it isn’t til the 25th, right?”

“it’s already the 26th, cariño.” sae cups your cheek with one hand, wiping away a stray tear with his gentle thumb. he hates seeing you like this. one moment you’re completely out of your wits, then the next is your body returning to its natural programming like you didn’t just feel human enough to express emotions. sometimes, he wonders if you look at him the same. with how he’s cut off from his feelings most of the time and how he’s yet to actually go through a breakdown within your presence, maybe it’s a little hypocritical of him to wonder.

“the 26th? oh, god! i need to email the suppliers for next week’s shipment!” you were about to hop off the stool when sae stopped you and kept you planted down. “sae, mi amor, i’m glad you’re home. i just—“

“this isn’t just about me stepping foot in this house five minutes ago, mi vida.” he takes your chin between his fingers, fixating your gaze at his teal-hued eyes. “you’re overworking, and i’m yet to understand why you’re crying.”

“but—“

“please, take a small break.” he leans his forehead down to yours, hoping for you to receive his sincerity. “stay in the living room for me, mi vida. i’ll make us some tea to relax.”

you took a glance at the clock, realizing it’s already past midnight. sae must be tired from his trip, and yet he carried you down the sofa so effortlessly before heading back to the kitchen to make tea. you turned to watch him from the living room, noticing how he glared at the half-empty wine bottle and the wine glass you were about to finish. he swiftly drank the rest of it in one go, muttering how it does taste good and he now understands why you kept drinking it.

he brewed, he cleaned, and he sat down with you like how a therapist would approach their patient. you didn’t know if it was the alcohol kicking in again, but you can feel tears brimming your eyes as you realized just how much he cares for you.

“god, i’m so stupid.” you mutter, hiding your face in your palms.

“what did we talk about?” sae sighed, pulling you against his chest once again.

you flinched. “don’t berate ourselves…”

he nods, then takes your hand in his. with a swift motion, he intertwined your fingers and planted a kiss at the back of your palm.

“what’s going on, mi vida?”

and so, you talked about the entire process that led to your ugly breakdown. how you hate the silence that comes after a long day and the realization that sae’s someplace else. how it hits you like a ton of bricks when you read the tabloids that a lot of people are expectant of your creations. how both worlds somehow collided when you read the morning newspaper with yet another scoop on how sae may be dating behind your back, and how sae was conquering the world out there and you’re stuck in spain to chase after your own golden egg.

“i’m sorry. i was just feeling a little sensitive, so the sadness grabbed the chance to use it against me.” you joked, chuckling awkwardly as you now played with his fingers out of anxiousness. “i’m not usually like this. please don’t take this seriously. you don’t need to worry about me whenever you leave—“

sae must have been annoyed by how you’re suddenly patching up your scarlet wounds with useless bandaids because he shut you up right away with a slow and passionate kiss. he was never good with words, and his progress is quite slow, but he knows that the best way for him to communicate with you is through his actions.

the kiss was no mere act of affection that night. it was an assurance, a promise telling her that he will take care of her no matter how messy she can get. that he will be more attentive to her feelings, especially when he’s away.

“you act too tough sometimes,” he whispered against your lips, “you don’t have to be like that with me. i’m here now, mi vida.”

that was all you needed to hear to finally get a proper rest. sae didn’t stop you from dozing off after you both finished your tea, carrying you back in your shared room after a long day. as he laid beside you, he watched in earnest how your nose would scrunch in your sleep. how you resemble a baby and how he wishes for your future children to look more like you one day.

“te amo, mi vida.” i love you, my life.

#itoshi sae #x reader #blue lock #bllk #sae itoshi x reader

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teddy06writes · 1 month ago

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Take Care of You

Fiyero Tigelaar x gn!reader

Prompt(s): "I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time. I don’t need your help, and I definitely don’t need your pity. Fuck off.” / "You don’t have to go through this alone. I’m right here for you if you’ll just let me in.”

Trigger Warnings: Swearing, general descriptions of sickness, stress, something in readers background makes them not want to depend on people, out of character fiyero? (idk man I've only seen the movie and read a lot of gilyeraba fics}

Summary: You and Fiyero have been going out for a few weeks, but you're still hesitant to let yourself get too near him. When you come down with the mysterious illness that's been working its way through Shiz, Fiyero's determined to nurse you through it, despite your reservations.

The harder you tried to focus on the words before you, the more your head swam. The library was quiet, and the lights were dim, so there shouldn't have been any chances of your headache getting worse. Yet pain still thundered at your temples.

Of course, after dodging this sickness for weeks, you caught it just in time for Dr. Dillamond to assign a very important project. It was just your luck.

You dropped your pen to the side, letting your head drop down onto your arms, heaving in a deep breath. No matter what you took or how much you tried to shake it, you could lose the bone tiredness that had been plaguing you for days now.

"You alright, darling? How long have you been holed up in here for?"

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of Fiyero's voice, dragging your head up so quickly you swore you saw spots, "Uh-"

"Woah, hey," He quickly sat down in the chair next to you, reaching out like he needed to steady you, "What's going on?"

You blinked, trying to clear your vision, "Sorry- sorry, I'm just- tired."

"No need to apologize, darling. Are you sure you're alright?"

Clearing your throat, you nodded, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just have a bit of a headache."

Fiyero frowned, glancing at the textbook in front of you, "Well how long have you been working? Maybe it's time for a break."

"Only an hour. I'm fine."

He watched you with concern as you turned back to your work. You could practically feel him watching you, surely taking stock of the dark bags under your eyes, the unusual paleness of your skin, the way you suddenly couldn't seem to warm up.

"Have you taken medicine-"

"Yes. I do know how to take care of myself, Fiyero." There's a sharpness to your voice even you don't expect.

Even out of the corner of your eye you can see him frown, "I know that, darling, I know. You just don't look too good."

You let out a sigh, starting turn toward him again, "Fiyero-"

Before you could stop him, he was reaching out to press the back of his hand to your forehead, his frown deepening, "Darling, your burning up, what on earth are you doing studying?"

"The new assignment from Dr. Dillamond-"

"Isn't due for a week and a half! I mean honestly- Darling you should be resting-"

You stood up abruptly, even as it made stars dance in your vision, "I've been taking care of myself for a long time. I don't need your help, and I certainly don't need your pity, so please, fuck off."

Fiyero had stood and managed to catch your wrist before you could even make it three steps away, pulling you to turn back to him with a strange, desperate look on his face, "Who said this was pity?"

"Fiyero--"

"Who said this was pity?" He repeated, letting go of your wrist only to cup your cheek, his voice dropping, "I happen to genuinely care about your wellbeing, because believe it or not, I care about you, darling."

You closed your eyes for a long moment, trying desperately to turn away, "Fiyero..."

"You don't have to go through this, or anything else alone. Not anymore, not while I'm here," His hand drifted back to the back of your neck, gently turning your face back to him, "I'm right here if you'll just let me in."

Just like that, something in you seemed to break, and you were suddenly trying to blink away tears.

"Oh- Darling-"

"I'm sorry- I'm sorry-"

Fiyero began gently wiping away he few tears that had escaped and were trailing down your cheeks, "Hey, hey, don't apologize..."

"I'm just so tired- I can't shake this no matter what I do."

"Well, forcing yourself to be out and about certainly isn't helping," Fiyero turned, beginning to gather up your books and tuck everything away into your bag, "Come on, let's get you back to your dorm so you can get some rest."

When he took your hand, you didn't fight it, instead allowing yourself to be led along, out of the library. Outside, the cool air only seemed to worsen your chill, and Fiyero was quick to shrug off his jacket, tucking it around your shoulders.

The walk back to the dorms felt twice as long as your original journey to the library had taken, but eventually, you'd made it. Fiyero had coaxed you to lie down, and after all but forcing you to take another dose of medicine, tucked you into bed as if it were his life's mission.

You managed to catch hold of his hand as he turned to leave, whispering hoarsely, "Thank you, 'yero."

"Of course, darling," He smiled softly, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your forehead, "I'll come by and check on you in the morning, yeah?"

But the only response he got was the sound of your soft snores. Chuckling to himself, Fiyero pressed another kiss to your forehead, before backing out of your room.

~~~

Enjoyed this fic? Help me buy textbooks :)

#teddy06 writes #teddy06 #teddy 06 #teddy06writes #wicked x reader #wicked x gn!reader #fiyero x reader #fiyero x gn!reader #fiyero tigelaar x reader #fiyero tigelaar x gn!reader

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ma1dita · 1 year ago

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love like a blister

the five stages of loving losing luke

a ‘partners in crime’ installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader prev -> lovers, or partners in crime | next -> to catch a thief words: 4.7k summary: (post-tlt) The one where you learn to mourn someone even if they're still alive. Loving him and losing him are one and the same; the aftermath of his betrayal. this work references a lot of previous works in the series! (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader) a/n: yeah… yall been asking for this so buckle up. luke is not present in this one, moreso you/trouble dealing with the after. i let annabeth breakdown a bit since ep 8 was amazing but felt choppy to me. (posted 2/12/24, betaed by mootie lari @mrsaluado)

—

DENIAL - bursting under pressure

we grew up together, what do you mean you grew into a person i can’t love?

Annabeth and Percy find you standing at the edge of the forest clearing—staring at the space where you let the love of your life vanish into thin air.

You let him leave.

It’s almost harrowing when the three of you make eye contact, not a single weapon in your possession, only your dying lantern and heart bleeding with the confirmation of Luke’s betrayal.

Knees shaking as Annabeth stalks over and her sword still raised with tears in her eyes, she’s no longer Luke’s little sister but a formidable warrior set on protecting camp—on protecting Percy.

And you failed in doing either of those things you promised yourself at the beginning of this summer because you ignored the signs of Luke’s behavior— until this very moment. There’s a pressure in your head that dampens your senses, overtaking the control you have over your being as you deny any knowledge of what happened tonight.

Because in truth, you put the pieces together at the same time they did, just a little too late. She looks at you now with the fury she wasn’t able to project on the real traitor.

“You knew,” she grits her teeth, on the defensive as Percy scrambles up from the ground.

“Annie, I…”

Percy stares at you in horror, a few steps back with Riptide in his injured grasp, and suddenly he understands what it means to see you break. They both feel it instantly as your lantern goes out. Heavy despair drapes over all of you as the madness rips its way through your body, almost breaking through your skin as it emanates through the air. The two children had never felt anything like it before, swords shaking in their hands as they’re filled with the sensation until it bubbles over and they can’t do anything but watch you, their usually poised head counselor lose your grip on reality.

But this can’t be real.

Out of all of the plans you both made, it was never deemed a possibility that Luke wouldn’t be there with you. Now you stand in the darkness of the forest, hands raised in surrender to a crime you didn’t commit.

There’s so much pressure and it hurts holding it all in, hurts so badly—everywhere until you scream.

“DAD!”

You stare at their small faces surrounding you in anguish, both of them talking but not a single word registers in your mind as you keep shaking your head and screaming for your father for the first time in your life. Before the words the words can form between your lips again Dionysus is there, not as an immortal god but carrying the wrath of a protective father, and there are no forces that can fight against that.

It all moves fast from there, black spots blurring your vision brought by the sheer strength of your tears. Though you don’t feel strong right now, instead there’s nothing that can describe the feeling but hurt as you’re frozen in pain.

The kids watch Mr. D check you for any injuries, but what they’ll never understand is that the wounds Luke left behind are on the inside, and you are bleeding. He shushes you, but the words fight their way out of your mouth, almost in disbelief. “Did I do that to him?”

Your father scoops you into his arms, godly strength and fatherly concern surfacing as he cradles you like a little girl like he should have all those years ago.

The haze clears as Mr. D quells the misery that reverberates through the air and it’s quiet again as your eyes fall shut. For a moment, Percy can’t help but wonder if this is another performance of yours, another way to throw him off of the traitor’s scent. But as your hand falls out from under Mr. D’s arm, he grabs onto it anyway. The son of Poseidon remembers how you and Luke always looked at each other like you were equals, and realizes that for once, the actress was outplayed at her own game.

ANGER - words leaking like an abscess

i never knew loving someone so much would be a crime

There isn’t a protocol set in place for when one of your cabin counselors and all-star campers defects with plans to wage war on the gods. There is even less of a precedent set in place for when the head counselor and daughter of the camp director is left to pick up the pieces, hands dirtied by the evidence he left behind. Perhaps your job description was never truly clear anyway.

All you know now is that you’ve been sitting in a rickety wooden chair in your dad’s office for hours now, tied up—for formalities.

This must be your punishment from the gods for every way you were different. Maybe if you were braver, maybe if you didn’t force yourself to only see the good in him, maybe then maybe, he could’ve been saved too. Surely undoing all of that would be considerably less painful than being questioned by everyone you love about the one you love.

For once you didn’t have any good answers.

“Like I said to Chiron. I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t know what? Use your big girl words. Just do the right thing, like you always say!” Clarisse barks in your face. The centaur tuts at the daughter of Ares, making her step back and cross her arms. The boys are more silent but still suspicious, and Lee asks if you really thought Clarisse was the traitor.

“I didn’t. I was the last one to know,” you grit, looking at Percy who surveys you with hesitant eyes, “I just thought Luke was leaving. I didn’t know why.”

“How do we know you’re not working for Kronos too?”

One of them says it, you’re losing track as to who when you blink hard and long, but the words spill out of you like a festering wound— fast, acidic, and painful.

“Do you REALLY think I could turn my back on my home? My friends? Is that how you all think of me? After everything!”

“You’d do anything for that boy and we all know it,” Silena says with a scowl very unlike her, though you suppose everyone’s out of sorts from exhaustion.

“Not that. That’s where him and I are different. I would never be able to do that.”

You think you hear Silena bite back a sob as she turns away from you, not meeting your eyes.

Mr. D was unable to judge you since you were his only daughter. He’s been gone most of the night and you feel so alone even if the room is filled with familiar faces that don’t even want you here. Charles, Percy, Lee, Clarisse, Silena, Katie stand still as they judge you— Annabeth didn’t even come to the Big House, her mind probably already made up.

Chiron says there will be a vote, the procedural way—like how you taught the cabin counselors how to handle disagreements, though they were never expecting to vote on your dismissal from camp. Tensions are high, some rightfully angry at the war looming over your heads, others looking at you with pity from the other corner of the room. All of them, your friends, still, you hope.

6 votes, since you and Luke didn’t count, and Annabeth’s abstention. They did it outside, away from your view and you sit in the silence of the office, angry at what’s become of you. Tainted and tarnished, you don’t bother to find out who voted what, knowing things won’t be the same after this.

Your dad comes back a little before dawn, having asked a favor from Apollo to determine your innocence–to prove that you’re telling the truth. But by then, Charles and Lee are already untying you from your chair and you’re being let go. You wonder what changed once they were able to speak without being in your presence. Remaining seated and staring at all of them with your jaw set in stone-cold wrath, Percy thinks for a moment that you look like Luke.

The first rays of light shine through the window upon your sullen frame— a confirmation from the sun god that your heart was always pure. It still feels like a loss. There’s no medal or award for getting left behind, and winning has always been more of Luke’s thing.

You resign from the position of head counselor by the time sunlight spreads across the campgrounds.

BARGAINING - to make yourself new from the inside out

isn’t home the first place you learn to run from?

You catch Percy at the doorstep of cabin 3 before he leaves and your dad is yelling at all the campers.

“Okay! For those of you who are not staying for the full term… get out! You get out. Pack your bags. You’re going home!” Mr. D screams with a twinkle in his eye as he winks at you, patting you on the head before walking away to drive kids out.

“Didn’t think you’d be up,” Percy mumbles, adjusting his backpack over his shoulder. You’d been locked up in your room since the interrogation with almost no signs of life. He was worried about you—all of them were. They just didn’t know how to say it, after everything.

You stood in front of him in sweatpants and a shirt he’s sure he’s seen Luke wear to sleep before, exhaustion prominent on your face; usually you’re better at hiding it, but there’s no need for false pretenses anymore.

“Last day of camp. Had to end it on a good note,” you say softly, biting your lip, “I heard about what you did, Perce. You didn’t have to. I was going to quit anyway.”

Sometime in the past few days, Chiron came to your cabin to tell you they didn’t vote at all, which was a surprise to you. Percy convinced them not to, reminding them of your efforts as head counselor, and as a friend—the decision was settled quickly after that.

“I knew you didn’t betray us. I was just scared.”

You watch him shift his weight, not losing eye contact as he produces a half-smile. He seems older now after his quest, as many demigods do–though it’s only been a few weeks, he looks like he’s grown more sure of himself.

“That’s okay. I was too.”

The silence between you is comfortable as both of you listen to the birds in the trees, the distant voices of chattering children, and your heart hurts at the idea of leaving this, even temporarily. As your eyes flicker back to Percy’s, you realize he feels the same way.

“I hope your mom’s okay, especially after all of this. I just wanted to say goodbye.”

His sandy eyebrows furrow and it’s funny how Percy always looks a little confused.

“You’re leaving camp? I thought…”

“Well I’m not joining Kronos, if that’s what you’re worried about,” you laugh dryly, “It’s getting boring here. Gonna have to change it up soon, I think. See you.” you nod, waving a hand as you turn to walk away.

“Wait!”

Percy calls your name, skipping down the steps of his cabin and meeting you halfway down the forest path. He’s digging through his jacket pocket, and pulls out two black clay beads with blue tridents etched on the surface as your body grows cold.

“I don’t know what to do with—” “We…the other counselors, this is what we ended up voting on. And I thought you should get an extra, just in case,” Percy mumbles, his voice edged with hope and your face contorts into something like regret. You can’t cry again, even if you wanted to.

“I wouldn’t pray for something like that,” you whisper shakily.

“I thought you didn’t really pray at all.”

The kid smiles at you and it makes you wonder what souls like him and Luke must’ve done in their previous lives to deserve fates like this—to fight wars that aren’t their own. To be doomed by the narrative is a treacherous thing, and it is so utterly unfair.

“Yeah. That was more his style,” you sniff, taking the beads out of his hand, “but I still find myself with a lot of hope.”

Hope, in a sense, is prayer too. Wishing that things will be better, manifesting and believing that it doesn’t have to end this way. You don’t think Luke will ever come home to you, not really, not all of him, but it’s nice to have something to hang onto. At his core, he was raised to be a soldier, and soldiers don’t always come home.

You decide to drive Percy down the opposite shore to Montauk. It’s a short ride, and he spends the time looking out the window to the sea, thinking of his father— when the car pulls up to the driveway of the beach house, you step out and give him a hug. Soon, he’ll be taller than you.

“Take care of yourself, okay? Need anything and I’m a call away,” you smile, but he sees that it doesn’t reach your eyes.

“Thank you. For being a real friend, even if it hurts you.”

You grab his shoulder to make him look at you, and the distant sound of crashing waves dampens the thoughts running through your head.

“Listen to me. None of this is your fault. I couldn’t save him. Luke’s my biggest failure.”

Your voice wavers and you swallow hard, pushing the tears back down your throat.

“You know, I knew you didn’t know anything about his betrayal because when we were in the forest, I’d never seen you like that before. I couldn’t figure out the feeling, and–”

“I’m sorry you had to see me like that, Perce. I couldn’t hold it in anymore,” you interrupt, but he shakes his head and continues.

“I thought you were sad. It felt like sadness at first, but then I realized it was hatred. And I knew even then that I could never hate you. So I realized that’s how you felt about yourself. I hope someday you don’t feel that way anymore.”

If a few tears slip down your cheeks, Percy doesn’t pay it any mind. He waves at you when he gets to the door.

DEPRESSION - healing takes thick skin

i knew to love would be to lose my mind

After the summer term ended, you spent most of it in bed, hiding away from the world. You wished to be more spontaneous, to up and leave the safe boundaries of the camp you call home, but you’re not quite there yet.

The one good thing about this is your father. Dionysus was at your bedside every morning and night between the work him and Chiron had to do to keep camp running in your absence. His powerful fingers made themselves comfortable stroking your hair as you always find yourself staring at nothing. Your father cured you of what he thought was madness over your life being turned upside down by someone you love, but after the fog cleared, you were left feeling nothing. Numb to the touch, hardened by your hurt like a growing callous.

Impenetrable.

He thinks it’s bittersweet, getting to know you better as you chat late into the night when you can’t sleep, but it breaks his own heart to have the power of Olympus on his side and still not be able to fix you. He knows now what you must have been feeling these past few months, to some extent.

“Sometimes I wonder if I’m dead already,” you mutter as your eyes stare blankly at the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling. Your dad is sitting at your desk as he signs paperwork, and his eyes flicker to a pinned photo on you wall of you kissing Luke’s cheek in a photobooth. One of the pins is missing a memory, torn and stolen away.

“Unfortunately, you’re not that lucky. I carried you out of that forest, I’d know,” he mutters, sipping on his Diet Coke.

“Will it always hurt like this? Losing someone you…” Love.

You can barely even bring yourself to say it, so he sighs and nudges you to move over on the bed, his Hawaiian shirt an eyesore against your bedspread. It makes your lips quirk up to see the god try to fit himself into a full-size as he adjusts to get comfortable.

“Yes. Because if it hurts, it means that it mattered. There is no such thing as love lost if you gave it willingly. You know, your mother and I were never together, but I loved her too.”

He tucks the duvet under your chin like he’s worried you’ll catch a chill. Your form is still unmoving under the covers as he continues.

“Love is a powerful catalyst. The actions humans do after are a product of that; it brings out the best or the worst in people, especially if you think it’s the only way. You love because you want more time with them. You love someone to life, not to death.”

“Silena said something at the Big House. She said that everyone knew I would do anything for him. Where does that leave me? What do I do now?”

Your eyes shut as you feel your dad grab your hand and he chuckles lowly. He knows a thing or two of doing anything for love. He’s gone to the underworld and back—twice, for his mother Semele and his true love, Ariadne. And he’d do it again for you, if he ever had to. “You’re not broken, kid. You’re in love. It’s the purest emotion the gods have bestowed onto humans, and it is a gift, even if it doesn’t work out. Love is insanity. I think you and I know it best.”

“I guess I’m a lot more like you than I like to admit,” you scoff, leaning against his arm.

“Don’t sound so excited, daughter of mine,” he says playfully, and he seems so human now as he laughs. The two of you have a gift of fixing people, but perhaps you were both blind to who needed it the most until this very moment. Sitting there in the quiet a little longer, it doesn’t feel so bad to be the favorite daughter of Dionysus. Maybe when you’re ready to get out of these walls, you’ll be able to say it with pride.

ACCEPTANCE - to be soft again takes strength

in another life, we would’ve mattered more than choosing sides

“He always hated it when you smoked, you know.”

You cough through a puff, boots slightly slipping in the sleet of the gravel driveway as you turn to face Annabeth. Besides the fact that her father’s house is grander than anything you could ever imagine yourself living in, there’s a large distance between the two of you as she stands on the steps, the box you left on the doorstep slowly being dotted with falling snow. You left the car running, thinking she wouldn’t want to see you after everything that’s happened.

“Well he probably hates a lot of things about me now,” you say grimly.

It’s been a growing habit to want to feel something, the rush of nicotine through your bloodstream—even if it’s bound to rip years off your life. It doesn’t really matter as much anymore.

I hate a lot of things about me too, you think, remembering a white house on a hill even if it was a distant dream— these thoughts all go up in smoke as you watch her sit down on the stoop waiting for you to come sit down with her.

Your hands fidget as you find a place next to her, putting out the cigarette on the red brick as the ash falls onto your chipped nail polish. It burns, but Annabeth watches you, the both of you stone-faced.

“What made you drive all the way out here?”

She opens the box and tries to hide a shaky breath at it’s contents but the vapor in the air betrays her. You can still tell a thing or two about people acting, but you’re never too sure anymore.

“I got a few days off from class. Dad Iris messaged me, told me there were new kids in 11 who needed bunks, so… he thought it was time. It was sitting in my room when I got there.” She notices you call Mr. D your dad now, but doesn’t say much of it. She’s also getting used to calling her father that after all these years.

You pull out the quilt you gave Luke the night before you got claimed, a faded pink and purple pattern worn from the years of use and wrap it around her shoulders. It still smells like him, citrus and musk and something darker that hangs over your heads and she sniffles.

“So you’re a college girl now, huh? Never thought you’d do it,” Annabeth mumbles, still not looking at you as her eyes scan through what was hidden underneath the fabric. Luke never had much he held close to his heart, and it’s funny to think his two prized possessions were staring down into a box trying to find the meaning of it all.

“Yeah, me neither,” you sigh. It should’ve been an insult, but you know what she means.

Not without him.

There’s a lot that you promised each other, but you find yourself doing it all alone–because you have to. The world does not wait for for anyone, even if you beg for it to.

“It’s not a big deal, I’m still on the Island, just…not at home. Just trying to keep myself busy.”

Her hand picks up a polaroid of the two of them—he’s smiling as she peers over his shoulder.

“I think it’s great. You’re too hard on yourself sometimes.”

Other memories are scattered in the box including a leather bracelet, a compass, unsent letters to his mom, and photos of happier days back when all of your hearts were softer. There’s not much to split between the two of you.

A black clay bead rolls to the inner corner, indicative of this year’s events and painted with turquoise like the eyes of a certain son of Poseidon that now crosses the both of your minds.

“Percy gave it to me before he left for the city, for him. In case.”

You swallow loudly, and you watch her braid it onto the leather cord and tie it around your wrist. Her fingertips are cold as she nods, “In case.”

“You’ve been looking for him, haven’t you?” The movement your head makes is almost imperceptible—not a nod nor a shake, but the daughter of Athena knows you too well by now. She knows you because Luke did too, once upon a time.

“Think I’m trying to find myself now. If he’s still a part of that I don’t know what that says about me.”

The two of you sit there on the stoop of the Chase mansion catching up on the past 7 months even if the both of you can still feel the wall of his memory between you. She doesn’t invite you in to meet her family despite the weather—hesitant to let her mother’s side of life bleed into the new normal she’s created for herself, and you can’t blame her one bit. The both of you have been at war with each other and with yourselves since the end of the summer, when in reality you both know what it’s like to protect the little you have to hang onto and what it feels like to be left behind. Survival mode, until the end.

“Why do you think he did it? I mean, I know why, but…”

Why weren’t we enough?

Annabeth’s mind has always been so brilliant, but sitting in the dim porchlight, you understand now that she’s growing up so quickly. Gone are her baby-soft cheeks, with her cheekbones more prominent as they frame her wise eyes. She’s a teenager now. But Annabeth looks at you like she did long ago, the only person besides Luke who would patiently answer all of her questions. Even if the answers weren’t always what she wanted, you had a way of telling her what she needed to hear.

“I think I’ll be asking the gods why for the rest of my life. And even if they ignore me like they did him, or give me an answer that’s worth the balance of the world, I’ll still never be able to understand it.”

The snow is falling harder now, but neither of you seem to notice. It’s stuck in your hair, dusting your eyelashes as you sit and stare out at the front lawn. She tells you about school, her family, Percy and Grover, and the things you’ve missed about her so deeply—and for a moment you feel like you can be her older sister again, someone who can keep her secrets. Partially, you left home because everyone either doubted you or thought you as fragile. Annabeth always tells you what she’s truly thinking— it’s a breathe of fresh air to let yourself just be.

“I’ve never not had the last word when it comes to him, y’know? I guess I have nothing more to say though.”

You both huddle together for warmth under the quilt, sharing secrets and memories of him, things others wouldn’t understand.

“You know that’s not true,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes, and her smile is as bright as the snowflakes in her ebony tresses.

“What I do know is that you know too damn much,” and you both start giggling softly, teary eyed and feeling what you’ve been keeping in for months now, from each other and the rest of the world.

“I’m sorry,” she mutters suddenly, and your name falling from Annabeth’s mouth sounds almost as unfamiliar as her apologizing. It shouldn’t have to have been like this. You’re not going to lose the only person who remembers him like you do, who hurts like you.

“Me too.”

She leans her head on your shoulder like how she would when you used to sing her to sleep, and deep down Annabeth knows that she won’t let the only good part of her brother go either. What tore the two of you apart brings you back together, because if you don’t have him you still have each other.

The door to the estate opens up slowly, it’s well-oiled hinges silent like the two sad girls’ whispers. Dr. Chase steps out to see you two illuminated by the light of his home, hand in hand over a box of memories and wrapped in a pink and purple quilt that Annabeth will hold close to her like she does her mother’s hat.

“You two ladies causing trouble?” he smiles, his eyes wild with a thirst to know more and it’s a look you’ve seen his daughter give you one too many times.

You can’t help but chuckle at the irony and though he means well, the all-consuming feeling that comes with the name, Luke’s name for you– ignites in your heart once more. No one will ever call you trouble again, not in the way he did. It burns like alcohol running through your veins almost unendurable and you want to will it away, but Annie’s patting your arm as she tries to stifle the flames with her cold fingers.

“Her?” she says knocking her shoulder against yours, “ Always.”

Annabeth laughs, and that too, reminds you of him but it doesn’t hurt as much anymore, your body still warm in the winter Virginia air. You feel your chest shake and suddenly you’re laughing and it’s crazy and loud and maniacal and so you that you can barely see Annabeth through the tears rolling down your cheeks. It cuts around the dead skin that’s encapsulated your being these past few months, revealing something brand new—much softer, even if it’s still tender to the touch.

It’s still you, still hurting, but choosing to live despite it.

Because you have to.

—

“Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever had to do. Being loved by you is the hardest.“

- Ari B. Cofer

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