#dancing trough life

[thekatebridgerton]

Imagine modern au where Anthony is just stressed out so to unwind he starts dancing in his office to the entire choreography of ' dancing trough life' because you know, its his office and his siblings aren't home.... Only to turn around and realize that local bane of his existence Kate Sharma ( and her dog) have been standing in the doorway for a while.

Anthony dancing on his desk be like

And meanwhile Kate

[r3starttt]

WARM LIKE A GUN

jealous ex ! Ellie

CW: toxic and obsessive behavior. stalking. strap-on sex (r!receiving). use of names like whore, slut, good girl. toxic relationship. spit. clit slaps. cum eating. jealousy-hate sex. teasing. dom! mean! el.

It had become a ritual, a perverted quotidianity. Hands burning at the emptiness, aching to get the smallest tact of your flesh. Tongue sticking out at the tought of you and fingers desperately scratching every fold of her skin pretending it was you.

Not even the cigarette abstinence had such effect on her mind, on her body, on her life. Maybe because that didn't involve skin to skin contact, maybe because that was a sin she didn't actually care about.

She was always this insane, always too focused on the next victim instead of enjoying the achievement of getting what she so much wanted. Obsessively wandering her eyes at the women on the street to find the new target, unconsciously flirting with waitresses and nice ladies at every place she stepped in.

But you made a mess of her.

Ellie really tried to get over you, after all that's wham she wanted - in the very, very first beggining. The result was some half-lided eyes looking for you in every crowd, for an ass like yours, tits as deliciously shown as yours. The image of when she first met your persona never disappeared, and kept on playing with her.

Her mind got so traumatized she kept on looking trough photos and pictures of you to make her remember the real you and not the perception she'd built of you - same she got from when she first met you.

Hands over your hair, running down your body at the beat, a drink in hand and the widest smile she's ever enjoyed of. You approached her first.

Maybe that's why she never forgot about you, because you've chosen her as your target, and not the other way as Ellie was- is, so used to do.

And probably that's the reason behind the violent though of ripping your skin off your body, well, she wouldn't, not literally.

Those same hands that caught her attention for the first time now touching someone else's body. Gripping at a ridiculously short dress to get a taste of someone else's ass. Is that what you've become now? She's not even hot, or nice, or decent. She's a whore, do you like whores now?

No blame on her tho. You yourself wanted to rip your own skin off- same reason, the sight of her.

The woman in front of you wasn't bad. Nice ass, breasts bouncing at her every move, doe eyes trying so desperately to catch your attention by batting her pretty long lashes. Red lips running out of color and painting the glass in hand instead, wandering over your neck in another desperate attempt to get a taste of you.

She was nice, just not your type.

She would've, in any other moment of your life. Just not now, when you have ellie eye fucking you as you so much missed.

You were equally insane, target over target until you got to her. The thing is, she wanted to get rid of you and you never planned on fighting her back.

You regret it now, you should've played a little bit more.

Drink and drink and drink, you were beyond lost on your thoughts the heat and the music. Some feminine hands deliciously dancing over your body, you've got over ellie once again.

Or so you thought because you had to excuse yourself moment later before you got a little bit of councsiousness back. Getting rid of the roaming hands over your body and the multitude of gorgeous women that caught your attention at you every step.

Purse in hand, heels making your feet bleed and your dress barely covering your body anymore. The air hit your skin, made your hair dance a bit and your eyes open wide to make yourself at home as fast as possible.

The sight inf front of you wasn't knew though, a sort of new expensive motorcycle you somehow knew was standing right in front of you- well, resting near a wall, being lightened enough by the fluorescent lights outside the bar.

Was it a neighbour's?

-

It wasn't

It wouldn’t make sense since it's resting again in front of you, now at home.

It would be a psychotic coincidence, Ellie to be more precise. You had no one else in mind.

Not that you actually care either, you looked for her on those hands at the club, on your drink and those red lips that got to touch your skin eventually. You really wished it was her, but not really, you were fine without her and if she got another taste of you, even when you wished it happened, she would go insane. And you weren't in the mood to deal with her.

Or so you thought.

Because the way your hands are intertwined on her hair, tugging at it- says otherwise. The way the palms of her hands are gripping at your flesh also says otherwise.

There's a mix of alcohol and cigarette on your mouth, a tint of weed too. You can feel your lipstick all messy over your lips, you can see it on her face. There's drool connecting both, it's all so desperate and stupid. Humiliating.

Your legs are around hers, keeping her still. Ellie's doing the same, with her hands on your ass, spanking it whenever you try to make this go faster.

Your arms are locked around her neck, scratching it oh so slightly. Her nose tickling your neck, your clavicle, breathing in and out all of you.

You're both aware this is a once in a long time thing, because yes it's gonna happen again just not any soon.

"You've find yourself a new whore to fuck?" Her voice echoes out of nowhere, causing a knot on your stomach. You simply shake your head, enjoying how the tips of her digits dance along your stomach, up your chest. "no?" She whispers once more, her breath hitting your neck, accompanied by her saliva just some seconds later as she leaves wet sloppy kisses along your shoulders.

"You mind it?" You hit back, relentlessly. In response there's only a chuckle. One of her hands keeping its place on your ass, the other one gripping at your breasts, individually and so desperately it hurts. "You're mine" her response rebounds in your mind, too proud yourself to let her hear what she wants, but "you think so?" Her palms let go of your body, her touch getting deeper on your stomach just to push you. "I know so"

"Oh, is that so?" Your fingertips pass swanning over the hem of her shirt, just the perfect amount to get a taste of her stomach. "Want me to prove that to you?"

Her hands get fully off your body, now placing her palms over her her waistband to get rid of it. You already know what she wants, what you'll receive from her. There's no way she wasn't planning on going back home without fucking someone and fuck it makes your skin burn, what if it wasn't you the one she'd fuck tonight? Maybe you do like- "such a whore williams"

"Sit on it" she avoids your latest mock, simply making herself comfortable and doing you a favor by opening her legs enough for you to fit on her lap.

Her hands roam over your dress, naturally pushing it up your waist. "I'm the whore?" The tip of her digits rubbing circles over your already damped cunt. Your mouth opens very slightly at the touch, trying to contain yourself from giving her what she so much wants, failing.

"Make yourself ready f' me, yeah?" you swear you discern a mocking smile on her face, becoming more visible the more you pass your clothed cunt over her dick. Her hands rest on the sides of her legs, getting the privilege of watching you lose all that attitude you've won the pass minutes.

You whine at the sensation. Thrilled every second, every move- desperate to bounce on her, clenching oh so hurtfully around nothing. Her lips pressed eventually over the crook of your neck, sucking, nibbling or kissing every inch of skin she could reach.

You kept on grinding onto the buldge, letting out small pleads here and there. Whining and mumbling nonsense, helping yourself to keep your body in place by ressting your hands anywhere over her body.

"You think she could make you feel like this?" At the absence of your response, well, a poper one that wasnt lol by a whine out of that pretty mouth of yours, she spoke again "havent even started and you cant speak? Mhm?" One of her hands moved again, down your body. Her palm shoved down the hem of your dress, touching very slightly the tip of your clit, giving it some slapps before actually making small circles above. "So?"

"The fuck are you- fuck" cut off by a sigh, you tried to speak once more "the girl at the bar?" Your legs started to lose their strength, you had to slow down.

"Is there someone else?" If anything, you despised her stupid teasing, her nonsense questions and how she always had her way with humiliating you. "No" you simply whined, feeling the palms of her hands restrict you from moving anymore.

"I'm gonna make you mine" her lips pressed over yours in such aggressive kiss. Underneath you, her hands worked on getting rid of your underwear, getting rid of anything keeping any distance left between both. "m' gonna stretch you n' fill you up" giving the situation your mouth simply let out a whine, letting her know you were beyond thrilled by such idea. Being hers forever, making this games between both end.

Her thrusts start slow, giving you the chance to even ride her. She was getting something else in exchange of course. Her mouth being filled by your nipples, licking and sucking absolutely senseless. That until her hips started to slam into yours. "think anyone else can make you feel like this, hm?" She whispered in between your breasts, eyes fully fixated to your closed and clenched ones. Such delightful scenery for her.

“you can play cool, but I've been watching you" she interrupted herself by the desperate need of getting a taste of your lips. Harshly grabbing your cheeks to pull you closer. Instictively you opened your mouth, giving her all those pretty noises as closely as she wished. "No one's ever got you soaking their fucking cock" there's a mess going in between her and your mouth, everything so wet and messy, and fuck your pretty voice driving her insane.

Her hips kept on diving thrusts into you. Bouncing you up and down onto the soaking plastic, making a mess underneath. Her thighs being equally wet and her clit being hit just perfectly at how you clenched and bounced around the strap.

"Gonna cum f' me?" You nodded, feeling the knot on your stomach get yourself all weak and numb. You could still taste your lipstick, the outline of your lips wet down your chin. Fucking humiliated by her once more.

Ellie started hitting into your cunt with harsher bucks, desperately to make you cum, she felt close. Wet and obscene sounds filling the room. Smacks that splattered the slick shared, groans and a stoic figure wuickly replaced by whined and shacky hands roaming over your body, playing with your ass, gripping it so harshly.

Her eyes wanderer over your face, down your body, enamored by the creamy arousal that drowned your pussy leaking down her cock so deliciously. "Can't- Ellie" and just like that there was such pretty mess down your thighs. Your unsteady breathing accompanied by whines. Fuck she would never get over you.

Her fingers quickly plugged inside your sensitive cunt, clenching around her for one last time. All to stuff you back in and get a taste of her hard work.

Months of watching you fuck with random girls, wanting to get rid of them the moment they came outside your house. Months of wishing it was her making you feel this nice. She'd achieved it.

Her fingers popped into her mouth, kissing you next, almost instantly. She had to share, didn't she?

"Always such a good girl f' me, aren't you?"

[kiddotarot]

Happiness in marriage ( Navamsa chart ) .

Explication = we all familiar about the Atmakarka and Darakaraka concept . Same as Matru karka is 4th highest degree planet in chart which significant " mother , maternal figures, including the nurturing, support, and emotional influences they provide " . So its present where you can find happiness, wish fulfillment and happiness in your marriage. I am new finding about it also reading and researching over it and slowly getting familiar about more like this things.

So for this find the fourth highest degree planet and if you are having problems you can go to astro. Seek and creat your chart and scroll down and you can easily find ( MK ) there.

Planet as MK

1. Sun as MK : Represents you can be satisfied and happy when you get a sense of authority and ego and respect in society when you are the main character standing is spotlight which can also bring by your spouse then you be happy .

2. Moon as MK : Symbolizes emotions and mind, nurturing qualities. So you can also feel happywhen you spouse make you feel that you are understood and bri g sense of emotionl fulfillment thats make you or bring you happiness in marriage.

3. Mars as MK : Associated with energy, passion and action. It shows that in marriage feeling satisfied or passionate can bring you fulfillment and happiness.

4. Mercury as MK : Represents communication, intellect, and adaptability ots shows you can fell happiness when you feel communicative connection with your spouse when you and your spouse talk with each other.

5. Jupiter as MK: Symbolizes wisdom ans spirituality, knowledge. Its also show you can feel fulfilled when you and your future spouse is spirituality alined and participate in such kind of activities.

6. Venus as MK : The planet of love, beauty, and harmony is very important in navamsa . It also show when you are your future spouse shows love and romanticism then you can also feel happy or when you both are participating in any form of art like dance and music.

7. Saturn as MK : Represents discipline, responsibility and hardworking nature . You and your future spouse specially working or staying in disciplined in daily life can bring as sence of happiness in your marriage.

MK in houses

1 House : How one presents themselves to the world so if you have MK in first house you will be happy that you showing what qualities of your marriage to the world and more related to you.

2 House: your MK in 2H happiness Relates to wealth, possessions, and family values, and your financial status or what material things you can have like properties and transport.

3 House: your MK in here can represents happiness in communication, short journeys. It indicates one's ability to express themselves and their relationships your future spouse and courage to take the challenge.

4 House: your MK here can represents happiness in homely environment, simple domestic life and connection with homely environment and peace.

5 House: your MK here can represents that you feel happy and fullfilled in romance or through children , when you both do a creative work together.

6 House: your MK here can represents fulfillment in marriage through daily work or routin , to taking care of health or adding health related things , serving to each other or challenge.

7 House: your MK here shows uou can feel happy here by being in relationships or in marriage with your future spouse or you approching style toward marriage.

8 House: your MK here represents you can fell happy being going trough the transformation in your marriage or through shared resources or may be hidden thing and knowledge and intimacy with your future spouse.

9 House: your MK here represents you can be happy with seeking knowledge with your spouse or in philosophy or religious , spritual matter you can also find yourself lucky in marriage and long distance travel with you future spouse.

10 House: your MK here can show your happiness in the image you have in society as married couple , or how society veiw your your reputation.

11 House: your MK here represents happiness through the resources of future spouse or freinds or community. The goals and the dream in marriage can bring you fulfillment.

12 House: your MK here can shouw you will fell happy with your spouse in a isolation journey may be spritual journey and foreign travel with them.

@kiddotarot

[hislittlesparklejumpropequeen]

I never blamed you for loving me the way you did.

Lestat De Lioncourt x reader

Summary; Lestat De Lioncourt had a wife once. And a beautiful life. Until he lost everything. Warnings; fail marriage, blood and injuries, vampire sex, character deaths, suicide, self-hatred, penis in vagina sex, creampie, sex as a coping mechanism, child loss, grief and mourning, ANGST, hurt no comfort, BISEXUAL Lestat de Lioncourt

Word count: 11,181

(Pre-canon)

Lestat had spent decades on this planet. He had known thousands of people, been to hundreds of cities, lain with both women and men. He had fallen in love, once upon a time. And he had known loneliness. He knew it even before he was turned into this vile creature. When he had to spend his days in his cold bed as a little human child. As his father and brothers torture toy, his mother’s suffocating burden, when had to spend days in Satan’s dungeon with the dead and the undead, waiting for his final day see his god for the first and last time. The nights he prayed to God to spare his life and how his prayers turned to pleadings for his death. He begged it to be quick and painless. He wanted his mother’s comfort that he never knew. He wanted to go back to church and attend the sunday service with the people of his small town. He wanted to hold cross one more time and feel the love of Christ in his bones.

He thought about God and Jesus and his mother when Magnus nearly ripped his neck open with his sharp fangs one night. He drank so much that Lestat thought he saw a bright light in the corner of his eye. He felt his soul slip away from his body and the lightness wash over him. It was a comfort that he never felt in his entire life before. Not when he used to lay beside that tree on the hill and exchange glances with the pretty looking shepherd boy as the warm breeze danced with his own blonde curls. Not when he fell asleep with that beautiful daughter of the baker by the river, naked, arms wrapped around one another, his head on her chest, listening to her heart beats.

He had tasted blood for the first time when Magnus pressed his bleeding wrist to his lips. Lestat started to drink. He had no idea why he was drinking. It was an instinctual command coming from his body, from his very existence. He felt life come back to him. But not his soul, it was gone. He felt his flesh harden like rocks and the colour drain away from his rosey cheeks of humanity. He felt Magnus’s blood flow trough his veins, fast and burning. He felt the warmth in his chest. His fingertips hurt with the sharp nails that grew in seconds. His eyes were sore and when he opened them again, the bright colours made him dizzy. He could hear everything and everyone. He could feel everything at once. He wanted to die. He wanted to beg Magnus to stop playing with him and let him die peacefully. And he was alone one more time when Magnus died in the flames, in front of his eyes. He smelled his burning rotten flesh. Dying like him disgusted Lestat.

Over time his yearning for God’s love turned into grudge. He wondered why God let him turn into this blood thirsty monster. Yes, that was what he was. A monster trough and trough. And no one would dare to love a monster like him. Even tho the monster would love anyone in the purest way possible if he was given chance.

And he did. Lestat loved Nicolas. As much as he could at least. Nicki was a troubled man since the first moment Lestat laid his eyes on him. He thought that being with him and having countless adventures could change him and plant seeds of happiness into soul. But it didn’t. He hesitated turning him into a vampire when Nicki was begging him to do so. He could sense the consequences of doing it. But spending centuries with the man he loved convinced Lestat. Nicki sinked into his dark thoughts more. His violin played with sadness and sorrow more than ever. Lestat felt his darkness in himself. He could not hear but see Nicki’s feelings in is empty looking eyes. He felt the guilt filling his heart as his first love was turning into someone he didn’t know. Armand’s presence wasn’t helping at all.

Lestat never thought about being loyal to his spouses when the world was full of fruits in different shapes and colours and tastes. There was so much to explore in his infinite life time. Armand was a capturing thing. With his eyes looking into his soul and reading him like an open book. Armand was offering so many things to Lestat that no one ever could. He yearned for the care and affection from Armand. He wanted to drink from him, lay with him and taught by him how to survive, live with the nature of a vampire. But being with Armand in front of the eyes of Nicki pushed the poor boy into madness more and more every passing day. Lestat was hungry but not for the destruction of the ones he loved.

He left Paris with his mother. He had left Nicki and Armand and the theatre. Only to receive the news of Nicki’s death. He fell onto his knees when they sent his violin to him. He touched the places where Nicki’s fingertips traced over. And he played it for the last time to feel his lover again. It didn’t matter if he was feeling Nicki’s love, rage or sadness. He only wanted a piece of him. His lips trembled when he played his favourite melody. The melody Nicki would play for Lestat after the moments they spent in each others arms, tasted one another and explore the corners of pleasure. He remembered that fearless little boy that he met with back in the day, when they were both humans. He remembered the shy glances of Nicki when he was looking at Lestat’s eyes, lips and every detail on his face. He remembered the moments they danced together and his mother would sing for them. He remembered their last happy moments. Tears of blood flowed down his cheeks and stained his white shirt.

He was alone again when his mother left him. He felt unlovable. Even his own mother couldn’t stand his presence. How could anyone in this world would love a man like him? By that time he had forgotten how it felt like being close to god and feel his love. He knew that God left him when he was turned into a seed of devil. He wanted to scream and shout and tell God that he never had a chance to choose. If he could he would choose God over everyone and everything without a second thought. Therefore Lestat knew believing in something higher and more powerful than you was a great comfort and happiness a man could ever have.

He traveled for years after his mother left him. He wondered around the countries, saw humans kill one another, cheat on one another, trick one another and destroy one another. He saw that it was not only him that was hungry for something he couldn’t name. Then his bright greyish blue eyes found the figure of a little human being in the crowd, dancing with a beautiful smile on her face. His eyes watched you for the whole dance. He heard your fast breaths, how they go trough your delicate nose and reach to your lungs that were still fresh and youthful compared to his rotten body. He saw the drops of sweat sliding trough your temple, your hair damp and the braid crown that was about to fall off. He heard your laugh, full of life and joy. He saw your skirts fly off as you tap your feet on the floor with your human strength. Your dance made him smile. His smile widened as you kept dancing and laughing. He felt like he never saw something or someone more alive. He felt a warmth in his chest. So different from the one felt when he first drank Magnus’s blood. It was type of warmth he felt when he was still human, when he had fears of a human and desires of a human.

He took you into his arms as you were still dancing. The dance floor was crowded as you felt his hands on you. You turned around and saw the most beautiful pair of eyes that you ever saw in your entire life. It felt natural to be in his arms, to be close to him and smiling at him. Lestat looked into your eyes as both of you danced trough the song. You didn’t want this song to ever finish. His body was pressed against yours and it felt like you were the only ones in the dance floor, in the world. He felt your gentle hands on his arms, going to his shoulders. It felt tingly and he realised how much he missed this human feeling. He laughed when you accidentally stepped on his feet and his laugh sounded more beautiful than thousand melodies that you ever heard. Which musician could ever write a song that sounded like his joy? Who could ever be the inspiration and make any musician to write it?

You watched his blonde long curls shine under the colourful lights. The thought of running your fingers trough his curls sent shivers down your spine. Lestat shook slightly when he heard your thoughts. You didn’t think about laying with him right away or take advantage of things that he might offer you. You only wanted to caress his hair. Something his mother never did. He closed his eyes and leaned down to your neck. The flavour of your blood filled his nostrils in seconds. He felt dizzy and wrapped his arms tighter around you. You felt his lips ghost over your skin and you had to hold onto him.

“Wait for me, ma cherie.” He whispered and you opened your eyes. Your arms were on the air, hugging no one. You felt coldness wash over your burning cheeks.

“Wait for me.” You heard his voice again. You turned around but he was no where to be seen. Your hands held your long skirts and put the strands of hair behind your ear. People around you kept dancing as you walked out of the dance floor with shaky legs.

Lestat watched you for the rest of the night from far afar. You didn’t dance again or laugh. You sat down, sipped on your drink, answered question when they were referring to you and looked for him with curious eyes. He felt sense of pride in his heart. Not because a mortal girl was mesmerised by him but because it was you that was mesmerised by him. You were not his prey of the night. He could fill that place with someone anytime, anyone could be his meal tonight. No, you were meant to be alive, and you were meant to be by his side.

For eight long weeks he watched your every step. He watched you wake up every morning, have breakfast with your family, attend your daily lessons, sew with your lady friends, read your books by your window and think about him. He could hear your sweet dreams about him, even when he was in his house. You were waking up everyday, hoping to see him somehow. You thought about telling your mother many times. Maybe she would’ve known about that otherworldly lord that attended the party in the gambling club. He watched you blush like a cherry in summer when one of your mother’s friends pointed out that you were zoning out and getting lost in your thoughts pretty often, just like a young lady in love would do. Your mother laughed it off as you kept your eyes on the floor and your thoughts on Lestat.

He watched you go home that day. Slip away from the heavy layers of your dress, undo your beautifully braided hair and lay on your back on the bed. Your room was lightened by the few candles on your desk and nighstand. He could hear your heart beating fast as you pictured his eyes again and again. Oh how beautiful he was. As if carved by God himself carefully within the image of an angel. You could feel that weird, tingly sensation in your stomach when you remembered his lips on your skin. Lestat smiled softly as you drifted into sleep thinking about him. And he was in your room. He walked to your desk first and looked over the poetry books you were reading, and the some poems you tried to write. A little poet i have hear, Lestat thought.

He walked to your bed. His hands traced over your neck to your chest and lastly to your stomach. His touch was so soft and light, he could feel you hardly. But he could feel your warmth so clearly. He could feel it even with just being in your room. He tried to remember the last time he felt the warmth of humanity in him. Nearly two centuries. He sat on your bed and looked at your sleeping figure. You looked so peaceful. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to sleep for night without all those memories haunting him? He listened to your heart beats for a moment and the way your eyes were moving slightly during your sleep. He leaned over you, to your neck. He inhaled deeply as his lips were close to your skin. For a moment he feared that his cold lips would wake you up but you didn’t open your yes. Your blood made his mouth watery. He was so hungry. For blood yes, but he was hungry for something more. Something that could make him feel alive after two centuries of being dead. Something that would make his heart beat faster with excitement again.

He wondered if God was looking down at two of you in that moment. If he was, would he let Lestat to defile one more of his human children? If yes, why? Wasn’t it both torture for Lestat and them? He had the blood of thousands on his hands. And there was no soap or water in this world that could wash it away from him. He was carrying all his victims within himself. They were in his veins, staining his fangs.

He laid his body on top of yours slowly, gently. His broad shoulders blocked your eyes and his legs trapped you between them. Your eyes opened wide with the pressure on your stomach. First you could only see darkness, then you felt a cold hand against your cheek.

“Don’t be afraid, mon cœur.” He whispered. Your fast breathing calmed in seconds. He looked down at your face and your gaze met with his own. You looked divine under the moonlight, under him. The way your eyes were still half open, in the grasp of sleep. And the way your cheeks were flushed with shyness and excitement. But not fear. His eyes found your lips lastly. Your lips that were slightly open, sucking in little breaths, looking all soft and warm. Lestat felt your hardened tetes peaking trough your nightgown, pressed against his tough chest.

You saw his bright blue eyes go darker with lust and his teeth grow into sharp fangs that only a wild animal would have. You felt his sharp nails digging into your skin and make you bleed. You both hissed as his fingertips got covered with your blood. He snarled just like an animal as the smell of fresh blood surrounded his very being. Your body trembled and you held onto his arms tightly

“Are you going to kill me?” You whispered. You did not feel horror, or rage or sorrow. You were only exited as he held you in his arms. Lestat smiled softly at your question. He pressed his nose against your cheek and inhaled your scent one more time. Your humanly, sweet smell made him dizzy. He felt an unfamiliar sensation down below his stomach.

“No, I will give you life. Better than the one you have.” He said and bite down your neck. First thing you felt was a sharp pain that made your neck go numb. You could not move, rather dare to move. It felt like if you moved, the pain would get worse. Lestat let his body go and laid on top of you fully, giving his whole weight. You opened your legs and welcomed his slender figure. And for the first time in decades, Lestat felt like he was home.

The wound that his fangs made on your neck started to burn when he licked and played with it with his tongue. The tears filled your eyes as Lestat laid his head on your neck. He kept drinking from you, slowly, taking little sips with the tip of his tongue, still breathing in your scent. His arms were wrapped around you and you could feel him all over you. He felt himself harden against your hips. He had to do it. He had to put an end to his loneliness.

He slashed his wrist with his nails, deep enough for him to bleed. Then he pressed his wrist against your lips. Your slowly closing eyes opened up at once as the strange taste of blood hit your tongue. Lestat shifted his position to open up the breaches of his trousers. He watched you drink him up hungrily as he lifted your skirt up to your waits. You felt his cold fingertips tracing over your bare stomach and thighs. His blood tasted sweet. Sweeter than the liquors you tasted in the balls, sweeter than the sherbets in the centre of the candies you ate, sweeter than the tropical fruits that your father bought very rarely.

You felt your whole body burn in need, in lust. You felt the buzzing sensation in your brain and your ears ringed. You pushed his hand away and pressed your lips against his own. You had to have him. It was a primal instinct that made you think so. Lestat held your back and positioned himself against your leaking entrance. Your warm walls welcomed him. You were sweet, warm and wet. In that moment it felt like it was all he ever needed. You tasted each other’s blood on your lips as his tongue explored your mouth. The he pushed you back and pressed his wrist back onto your lips. He wanted you to drink, cure your thirst and hunger with him.

He thrusted into you hard and deep as you kept drinking and drinking. He had to tend to you, he had to care for his fledgling. You were his. From head to toe, you belonged to him. Magnus had never claimed him as his own. His mother had no maternal instinct for him. He belonged to no one in this entire world. Nicki was in his own little world despite the love Lestat gave him. And Armand would never belong to anyone. Oh but you, you were perfect for him. Your walls tightened and it drove him over the edge. He ripped his arm away from you and held your face. You whined in need for his blood. His length went deeper and deeper into you as your shaky breaths hit his face.

He heard your heart sync with his own as he looked into your eyes. Your face was covered in blood as you moaned in pleasure. Lestat wanted to get lost in you. He wanted to be buried in you. He spent himself in you with one last thrust and felt your walls tighten more than before as you choked on your breaths and held him tight against you. He looked down at you and saw your thighs and his pubes sticky with blood. I had claimed her in every way possible, he thought.

He let you lay back down as he laid himself on top of you. You tried to catch your breath and he laid his head on your chest, between your breasts. Lestat kissed your skin, his lips left marks of blood on you. Then he felt your hands in his hair. Your fingers played with his lose curls that was ruined when he lost himself in pleasure. He felt your fingertips caressing his forehead and temple, gently, softly. You were still gentle with him even after what he did to you. His shoulders relaxed under your touch and he let out a shaky breath. What was he going to do now? He should’ve ask you before turning you and prisoning you into darkness. How he was different from Magnus when he just grabbed you like a piece of meet and drank your essence of life just to replace it with his rotten, blood of death?

“My family will think I coupled with the devil.” You whispered as you kept caressing his hair. Lestat’s breath hitched in his troath. He looked up to you under his lashes. He looked like a scared little boy in this light. A little boy that feared the monsters under his bed, scared of his father’s rage, scared of life and death. The tears of blood filled his eyes as he looked into your eyes. He saw the bright colour of your irises that matched your new nature. He nodded as he agreed with your statement.

“You have.” He said quietly as he avoided your eyes. He heard your small chuckle, felt his arm move as your chest rised up. You were still so calm. Maybe you were in shock after what he did to you. Poor girl, Lestat thought. I have driven one more innocent into madness.

“How come devil is so pretty then?” You asked as your fingertips trailed around his eyebrows. He stopped frowning with your touch. Then your touch continued to his eyes. Then to his nose. You caressed his straight bone. Finally your fingertips reached to his lips. Your hand brought grace to his well shaped lips. He planted a small kiss to your fingers.

“I never knew devil would look so perfect.” You whispered. As if even you couldn’t believe what you were saying. But Lestat heard you. He heard you so well that he received your compliment as a sharp pain into his heart. Growing up he had always heard that he was a pretty boy. Many of his lovers had said so even after his humanity was ravaged. But he couldn’t see anything but a monster when he looked at himself in the mirror. He had a attraction for violence. He couldn’t feel fulfilled if he didn’t kill. And he couldn’t satisfy himself if he didn’t hurt.

“You don’t know what I am. How can you say I am perfect after what I’ve done to you?” He asked his his tears started to spill from his eyes. You caught them before they could flow down his cheeks. Your small, soft smile remained on your lips. Lestat thought that he never seen someone so beautiful. He was surrounded by your smell, your beauty and compassion. He was covered in your blood and you were carrying his blood. He felt himself warm next to you. Centuries of coldness in his chest was replaced with your smile. He could feel your body calling for him, desperate for his touch and taste. There was a soreness in his troath. He wanted to scream it out.

“You have bewitched me.” You said, almost like a confession. His sharp gaze found your eyes immediately. Lestat’s tears kept spilling from his eyes as he laid his head on your chest again. He stayed in your arms who knows for how long. How could he let you go know? When you were calling him perfect, even after seeing his blood thirsty animalistic side, touching him with love and passion, carrying a piece of him in you, opening your arms for him without a question and accepting him as he is?

The next time Lestat knew loneliness was the hardest time.

You were a great companion, lover and a wife for him after the night he had you in your room, in your bed of youth and innocence. You were a brave little thing that was ready to face an army for him. He felt like the luckiest man alive when your laughs echoed trough the walls of your home. After decades he was finally living, sleeping in a house that he called home. He tried to taught you french but you were impatient and often ran away from his grasp to play his favourite melodies on the piano. He couldn’t get mad at you and watched you for hours as you played, looking at him for the whole time with a big grin on your face. He bought you the finest dresses in your favourite colours, had beautiful jewellery made for you. He loved making you happy more than everything in the whole world.

You were getting into an excited hurry every time you two decide to host a party in your home. People of your city were adoring both of you as a couple. You were so cheerful that there was no room people didn’t smile and the place didn’t lighten up as you entered. Men and women considered themselves lucky if you danced with them. But Lestat knew your first and last dance always belonged to him. Your heart and soul belonged to him. He didn’t know how many nights he pressed his forehead against yours, smiled like a teenage boy in the bliss of love and lifted you into air as your skirts flied behind you and your laughs filled ears of fortunate mortals. His heart was syncing with someone that loved him deeply. And he was so full of love, that he couldn’t remember the times he had lost himself in darkness.

He would have children with you if he could. If he was still a human. He would love to raise a boy that looked like you and a girl that looked like him. He had imagined the picture many nights as he closed his eyes in his coffin, his arms wrapped tight around you. He could see them running around the house, laughing beautifully like you. He could see them growing up and having their own lives as he grew old with you. I was so close to have a life, he thought after every single time he dreamt. The thought brought him sorrow. But he had you. It was more than enough for him.

Lestat met with your family when you two decided to get married. Your parents loved him. They called him a great gentleman with knowledge and culture. A husband fit for my daughter’s hand, your father said. But as the years went by and you still didnt have children or added wrinkle over there and there, your family sank nto silence. The letters became lesser and lesser. By the last letter, it was a dry piece of paper with few words written on it. No feelings, no longing or great love of your mother. You two attended the funeral of your father as he passed away after 15 years of your marriage to Lestat. Your mother’s eyes filled with tears and hatred as you watched your father getting buried. Lestat held you as you fought so hard to keep your tears back from spilling. You could see everyone’s eyes on you, examining you with fear planted in their heart, convinced that you are no longer the girl they knew. You tried to approach your mother and got blocked by cousins and other relatives.

“Tell that devil to leave my poor girl's body and find someone else to be the servant of satan.” You mother’s harsh voice made you step back. And Lestat could hear your heart shatter into pieces. He knew her words were referring to him. How many times I will hear the same thing, phrased differently? He thought. After the funeral you refused to leave your bed chambers for days. You didn’t eat even if Lestat hunted for you. You refused to sleep either. As the sun rose from the east and Lestat closed his coffin, he could hear your muffled cries in your own coffin. You couldn’t get yourself to sleep with him. You couldn’t get yourself to face to world. Your mind kept drifting back to the times you were with your family and how much they loved you. Lestat never wished something as much he wished to hear your thoughts and take your pain away. If he could, he would take all it of to himself. He was used to be in pain since he knew himself. But seeing his sunshine fade away was like tying his hands and feet and abandon him to starve to death.

After days, you left your coffin for the first time. Lestat’s bright eyes scanned your body head to toe. All he could see was a hungry vampire that was broken. Your under eyes were purple and your skin was paler than usual. The veins under your skin was showing trough. You could barely walk and talk as he held you in his arms and carried to the living room. Your hands fell to your thighs and he fell to his knees in front of you. His eyes were filled with concern and fear.

“Ma cherie, you need to eat something.” He said as he tried to make eye contact with you desperately. But your eyes were avoiding him by all cost. Your lips parted and some whispers left your mouth. Lestat leaned closer to hear you.

“It’s you.” He heard you say. He frowned and his mouth opened but nothing came out.

“I don’t understand.” He said quietly after a moment. You looked like a mess in front of him. And he wanted nothing more than pulling you back into his arms and never let you go.

“You never did.” You said as you finally made eye contact with him. “You are the reason of my current state.”

Lestat felt your words form into a dagger and stab him on his heart. His stomach dropped and he fought the urge to get away from you. He wanted to step away and take one more step away and one more… Your eyes were looking at him differently. There was a feeling he never felt from you before. Hate.

“You made me what I am and you ruined me.” Your voice sharp and your eyes full of bitterness. You collected all your strength to get up but it was not enough to keep you standing. Lestat held you gently before you could fall. Then he felt your sharp nails scratch him and rip his hands away from you.

“Don’t ever touch me.” You hissed and crawled away on the big sofa. Lestat’s eyes could not leave the empty space that you used to sit. He could hear your heart beating fast and he could almost taste the poison in your words you spoke out and you were going to speak out.

“You put me in a prison that I will never be able to leave. No matter what I do.” You said. Lestat looked over you and saw the tears of blood flow down your cheeks. Your fragile figure broke his heart repeatedly. He came in front of you on his knees and tried to hold your hand but you pulled away again. He sighed and did his best to hold his tears back.

“It will get better. In time everything will feel less weird and more normal. You will embrace what you are.” Your eyebrows lifted and a cold smirk appeared on your lips.

“And what is that? A murderer? A sinner? A cursed woman?” Your voice raised with each word and Lestat moved away. He turned around to avoid your eyes and words. His left hand found the corner of the window to lean down and his right hand covered his mouth. Muffled cries left his lungs as he shut his eyes tight.

“You will carry this feeling for the rest of your life.” You said and your presence left the house in seconds. Lestat did not move from his spot as he felt you going away from him. Your heart beats faded away in the night until he couldn’t hear you anymore. Me and you both, he wanted to say.

8 years.

He didn’t see you for 8 years after that night. He knew you were out of the city, far away from him. He called for you every night for a year at first. He screamed your name in darkness, hoping desperately that maybe you would hear and answer him. But you didn’t. Once his voice became hoarse, he wrote letters to your family. But got nothing back. Was it still possible for them to take you back after everything? Your mother couldn’t look at you and your siblings had nothing but fear and disgust in their eyes when they glanced at your direction. You were truly all alone in the entire world. You had no one but the person who trapped you into loneliness.

Lestat wandered around the city for days, searching for your scent, your gentle figure. You were no where to be found. He stopped going out after some time and trapped himself into his house. His coffin was full of pictures he could find of you. For nights he stared at your smiling face, frozen in those moments of happiness and joy. He missed your smile. He craved for you in every way possible. The house felt like a grave and his good old friend, the coldness was back. The memories of his youth started to haunt him one by one as he laid in his coffin during daytime. He could not find sleep when your side of the coffin was all empty.

He thought about his life before and after Magnus. He wondered if he would have a good life still if he wasn’t turned into a vampire. The thought of not meeting with you sent a gut-wrenching pain to his stomach. You’d be centuries apart, in different lives and countries. The picture of you marrying a decent man that your family found for you, wear a wedding dress for him, have his children, raise kids that looked like you and some man, have fights and love making nights with him, grow old with him and hold his hand while you greeted by the merciful arms of death made him tear up. He felt his heart pound painfully fast in his chest. A sob ripped from his throat and this time he didn’t cover his mouth. The guilt ate him from inside out. The honeymoon was over and now, he had the face the fact that he stole your whole life, your one chance of being alive, only for him to take your love for himself, selfishly and hungrily.

As the days turned into weeks and weeks urned into months, Lestat started to lose his hopes of seeing you again. Once again he was assured that no one could love a man like him. He didn’t want to stay in the house that use to be the home to two of you. Every corner was you and he couldn’t finish a day without thinking of the times you had spent together. But the small chance of you coming back made him stay. If you wanted to come back, you would love to see everything same and your husband waiting for you, Lestat told himself in the moments of doubt.

And one day you opened that door and came back. He was in the music room when he heard your heart beats. He felt like the time had frozen and his heart skipped a beat. His fingers on the piano stopped, his lips twitched with longing and tears formed in his eyes. When he saw you again, standing in front of him, beautiful as always, he wanted to get on his knees in front of you and beg you to forgive him for what he did to you. Then his eyes found the little body of the human boy in your arms. The child was maximum 4 and he was shaking uncontrollable. His blonde hair was dump on his forehead and weak breaths mixed with moans were leaving his mouth. Lestat didn’t need to be doctor to know that the boy was in great pain. And perhaps fear.

“He is going to die.” You said and hearing your voice after years made Lestat break down. He had to turn around at the doorway to hide his tears.

“Help me. Please.” Cracked noise from your sore throat was heard in the room. The boy was clinging to your dress, like a little lamb. You walked towards your husband as you held the little child tighter.

“Please save him. For me?” Lestat didn’t know if he was feeling grateful that you were back, guilty for his mistake or angry because you only showed up when you needed something from him. He looked at the boy. He was cute little thing with blue eyes like ocean and long blonde lashes that framed his doe eyes. He saw his clear tears run down his face as he coughed. An innocent, Lestat thought. An innocent dying in the arms of the woman I love.

“You can turn him. I don’t know how to. But you do. Please Lestat.” He saw your tears dripping down to the boy’s hands on your dress. The pain in your voice twisted his stomach. You sounded helpless and he whished nothing more than take this feeling away from you.

He shook his head no.

“I can’t.” He spoke. The dryness in his voice made more tears fall down your eyes. You held the boy closer to your heart. His head rested on your heart as you caressed his blonde curls. The curls that reminded you so much of Lestat.

“Yes, you can. Do it for me, please!” You were ready to beg if you needed to. There was nothing more you wanted than saving his little life. He had to live. He had to survive this filthy world and show everyone that he was strong. And maybe you would have a chance of being a mother.

“Children cannot be turned.” Lestat said as he reached out to hold you but you took a step back. You were shaking your head endlessly as tears kept flowing down your cheeks.

“Great laws forbid it. Otherwise a vampire child would live in misery.” He remembered Marius’s voice as he spoke these words to him before he sent him away. Someone under 17 cannot be given the dark gift.

“Laws? Are you serious? He will die if you don’t save him!” Your scream echoed through the walls and found his ears and heart. Your anger and sorrow shook him slightly. He knew he was walking on thin ice in this very moment. You could turn around and leave him again. And never come back this time. Who knows maybe you would find another vampire out there that could be your companion? Or turn this little boy for you to only make you happy? The thought hardened his blood and tightened his chest.

“My love, he won’t be saved if I turn him. He will live his life in desperation. For something more. Something he will never have.” He said gently as he wiped his tears away. He had to be strong. For both of you. His eyes found the boy again. He was so thin. Lestat wanted to put an end to his suffering. The boy’s eyes opened slightly and he looked at you. His fingers were shut tight over the fabric of your dress. Lestat could feel your love and care for him. You felt like you had to protect him. The boy’s big eyes found him. He looked at him with softness and hope. His eyes are full of life even when his life slips away from his body, just like hers were once upon a time, Lestat thought.

“We can be a family Lestat. He can be our son.” You said quietly. As if you feared that the world would take him away from you if they heard your words. “He looks just like you.”

Lestat didn’t look away from the boy. Yes, he did look like him. His blonde curls were just over his shoulders and his nose was small like Lestat’s nose when he was little. His mother loves him, unlike mine, he told himself.

“You and I and him. We can be happy together. We can try again.” The desperation in your voice broke his heart. You were willing to go back to him. To where you belong. Lestat wanted you back in the house, in his arms, in his coffin. He wanted you on his lips, on his skin. He wanted your fangs back in his neck and your heart on his. He wanted to be the one made you smile again and he wanted to be your dance partner in your extravagant parties. He wanted the boy to watch two of you as you danced and clap for his parents. He wanted to take him into his arms and feel a father’s strength in his bones. He wanted the pure and unconditional love of a son. The one he used to have for his father, way before he became his father’s unexplainable enemy. He wanted to see the boy become a man and be his pride.

“We are killers. A child has no place among the demons.” His words cut sharp as the boy started to cough again. The blood covered his lips as you tried to calm him down. Your own tears were spilling uncontrollably and sobs were coming between your lips. Lestat heard your irregular heartbeats.

“He cannot die.” You said between your sobs and cries as the boy kept coughing his blood out. You fell to your knees and kept his little head on your heart. His small, fragile hands were holding your hand tight. The fear in his eyes were piercing trough Lestat chest. He knelt beside you, held your back to his chest as you rocked back and forth. Both of you stopped breathing as the boy’s heartbeats started to slow down. His breaths calmed down and he closed his eyes. He clinged to your cold skin and did not let your hand go. With his last breath your head dropped back to Lestat’s shoulder. His arms were wrapped tight around both you and the boy. His long fingers intertwined with your and the boy’s hand. His decreasing temperature was slowly matching the coldness of both vampires.

“My son…” he hard your whisper. Your eyes were focused on the ceiling. Lestat buried his face in your neck when your cries filled the room. If only I could take all your pain away, he wanted to say but words did not leave his mouth. He could take your pain away, if only he made you a mother and gave you another family.

Lestat carried you to the coffin when you were exhausted from crying. He took the boy’s lifeless body and burnt it while you slept. He stayed until he was nothing but ash. He looked at the scene as the flames took him away and listened as his bones cracked and his flesh melted down. He didn’t let himself cry. It was his vilest murder. He had no right to feel guilt or shame.

He laid beside you in the coffin. You were whispering and crying still, even in your sleep. His fingers traced over your hands gently. He looked at your sleeping form and took a deep breath. Your scent filled his lungs once again after many years. His insides blossomed and he felt the life come back to his body. You were his home. It didn’t matter to him which form you were in or how you looked like. It didn’t matter if you were laughing or in sorrow. As long as you were beside him, he was happy to have you in any way. And you were back. Lestat knew he could not let you go again. Not after this night. Not when you needed him the most. He was the only one you had left with and he had no intention of leaving you alone. He was going to make you happy again. Just two of you were enough.

“You came into my life when I needed you the most. Now it is my turn to bring you joy.” He whispered to your ear and wrapped his arm around your waist. Your eyes opened as he closed his own. Your gaze traveled trough his beautiful features. He was beautiful as the first day you saw him. Years ago, in that party, where you were still innocent and human. Now I know that devil can be this pretty, you thought.

Lestat was in the corner of your mind for 8 years. You were carrying him in you wherever you traveled to. His face was carved onto your eyelids and you were too afraid to close your eyes. His voice kept echoing in your head when you killed, drank or spared a life. You played his favourite songs on the piano when you needed him by your side. But no matter how much you missed him, you couldn’t forgive him. You knew Lestat De Lioncourt loved you. You felt it in your bones, in your flesh. You carried his love in your veins. But you knew he cursed you forever. And you weren’t naive like you used to be to forgive and forget what he did to you. You were young and in love. How could you know it meant to lose your everything when you gave yourself to him that night?

You could not deny the fact that you were happy at first. Lestat gave you things no one ever did. He respected you, he loved you gently and made you feel like the only woman in the world. And you loved him. There was something in Lestat that pulled you to him. You were like opposite sides of a magnet. It felt right to touch and kiss him. Your heart craved for his heart just like your body craved for him. When he was deep in you, made you scream his name and planted soft kisses to your face, life was good. Until you started to see question marks on people’s faces. You were in peace with your fate and the things came with your new life. But everything seemed meaningless once it cost you your family. Lestat’s arms failed to comfort you when you were invited to your own father’s funeral at the last minute and saw that no one wanted you there. Not even your own mother.

You were motherless and fatherless. You were a demon who could only see the world under the dark sky. You could only stay alive if you killed humans. And seeing Lestat every single moment of your life vexed you. At the time you needed someone to blame other than yourself. You were already aware of your mistakes. And knowing that Lestat still turned you despite the fact that he knew what kind of a curse he was bringing on you, made his existence unbearable. You had to leave. You had to be alone with yourself after decades of marriage. Still, no matter where you went, Lestat was the only thing your heart ever wanted. You would always love him.

Then you found him. Leonardo. That was his name, you tried to remember. He was the son of a homeless woman that lived on the street of your small home. It was nighttime when you heard his cries. You saw his dead mother and him crying his eyes out over her body. You felt your heart shatter into pieces with the sight in front of you. He was so small and so scared. When his blue eyes found you and you could see his face clearly, you knew that you could not leave him to die. His arms reached out to you when you knelt beside him. He didn’t know why his mother wasn’t waking up and taking him into her arms. He was shaking and coughing between his sobs full of fear.

“Mummy.” He cried as you caressed his blonde curls to calm him down. He was cold and hungry and sick. I want to help you. I need to hold you, you thought as he snuggled to your chest. There was only one person who could help you. But could you go back to him? After everything that happened between you? Could you find that strength in yourself or would he take you back?

“Mummy!” Leonardo screeched in your lap in pain as his coughs got harder. His little hands were trying to hold your arms. You had to do it. Both for yourself and him. So that was now you found yourself in front of the door of your home.

You reached to hold his cheek. His breath quickened with your touch but his eyes kept shut. You were pressed against him. Your lips were nearly touching and you could feel his breaths all over your face. Your fingertips traced over his face to his neck and to his chest. His body shook. The soft touch made you both shiver when your hand slipped under his expensive shirt. It has been years since you last touched one another and you realised how much you missed him. You needed to touch him. When you pressed your lips against his, Lestat’s arms wrapped tighter around you. His kisses and biting continued to your neck and to your chest. The soft lips of your lover were sending you into oblivion. You had to be closer to him. Closer than being skin to skin, something more, something more painful, something full of love and the suffering that comes with it. Something that would destroy that pit in your stomach and be worth of all your sorrow.

“I love you. I live you. I-“ Lestat’s raggedy voice stopped as he kept kissing you hungrily. His words weren’t able to keep up with his desire. Your mind was foggy as he undressed himself first, then you. Tears were flowing down your cheeks and you were feeling his cold fingers spread the wetness between your legs. His fingertip caressed your leaking opening and moans left your mouth. You could barely see because of tears when you held his face and made him look at you. He was crying too. You kissed him. His tears and yours mixed up and found your pressed lips. The taste of blood was exquisite, vibrating, destructive.

The next thing you knew was you were on top of him, the lid of the coffin was wide opened, he was inside you, fully. You rode him to the bottom of the coffin, hard and deep as his impressive size stretched you out immensely. Your eyes rolled back when his hands groped your breasts. He was talking but you couldn’t hear him. Your ears were ringing and the pain was too great. Your moves became faster and harsher. Your sharp nails digged into his chest and scratched him all over.

“You’re crying.” Finally you heard him and opened your eyes again. It was a mess in his coffin. His chest, between your legs, his face, your body, you were both covered in blood. Yet Lestat managed to smile when he saw the unsettled look on your face. He held your waits tight and moved you back on forth gently on him. He kept caressing your body and say sweet nothings as he controlled your movements.

All the memories of your shared life passed before your eyes as you went closer to the edge. Your legs shook when Lestat’s thumb found your pearl and circled it skilfully. There was a soreness in your throat and your climax was building in your lower belly. The image of two of you filled your mind over and over again. The image of you happy. Would you be able to be like that again? You didn’t know. And learning the answer of this question scared you to death.

“I can’t.” You cried out when your orgasm hit you hard. Your body froze as Lestat kept his hands on you and reached to his climax. His dead seed spilled into you. Deep into your dead womb that was never going to be a home to a babe. Was Lestat enough for you to be fulfilled? Were you going to be enough for him when he got bored of searching for things that made him feel human, made him feel young again?

When you made eye contact again, you could see fear and doubt in his eyes. He was scared that you were going to leave him, just like everyone he ever loved. And he was not sure if it was still you in your body. He was looking for you in the eyes he saw for thousands of times and more. Yet nothing about your eyes felt familiar. Your body felt like you, your kisses felt like you, your heart felt like you. But it was almost like a death itself looking down at him in this moment. He left out a deep breath when you leaned down and laid on his chest.

His heartbeats were fast under your cheek. You turned a little and pressed a tender kiss to his chest. And another. And another. You kissed him until new tears stained your face. You hoped that you could find him again one day. You hoped that you were both humans when you meet again. You hoped that you had a life in another world, with the love of your life. You knew Lestat would find you no matter what. He would love you the same if not more. He would be yours in every lifetime until you had no more love to give.

“I’ll love you forever. Now and always. Until my last day and after.” You whispered but your quiet words reached to Lestat’s ears. He smiled sadly, his tears spilled down to his paper white pillow. He tried to speak but his voice shattered.

“And I you.” He could only say without sobbing. He shut his eyes tight when he heard you fall asleep on him. Tomorrow was going to be better. Everything was going to alright. He had you in his arms. And he needed nothing more.

—

When Lestat opened his eyes again, the first thing he felt was pain. His eyes were watering and he couldn’t even press his lips together to cover up his moans. He licked his dry, chapped lips with the last strength before he was breathless again. In the darkness of his coffin, his shiny eyes looked around desperately. He could feel the air hitting his burned body and make his wounds boil. He cried out your name. You were not in his arms. Where could you possibly be? Were you harmed too? What if you were harmed worse than him? You were younger and weaker than your maker. Lestat had to put himself together and find you, his dear fledgling. When he pushed opened his coffin lid, he saw the the wide open curtains that were usually closed. It was dark outside. The moon light was the only thing that was bright in the pitch black room.

It was only then he saw his burned body. Front of his arms, his whole chest, his thighs and his face were all covered in ashy wounds that were slowly healing. His blood red flesh was showing trough the burned skin pieces. They sizzled as the new skin was forming over them. But before he could think about his wounds, he had to find you. Why the curtains were open? They were always supposed to be shut. Just in case if any of you had to wake up when sun was still up during the day. He dragged his feet to the short, wide corridor of the second floor. All the doors and the windows were open, he frowned in confusion. His head was banging quiet like a bomb explosion. His body was aching and he was afraid. He was afraid just like the night Magnus took him from his room.

He walked fast as he could and entered the music room. You were no where to be seen. Lestat’s nose scrunched when he breathed in the strange smell in the room. He felt the smell stick onto his lungs and enter every bit of him. It was haunting and indescribable. It almost felt like he could taste it on his tongue. That strange, unpleasant, obnoxious flavour was so familiar on Lestat’s throat, yet he could find no name for it. He took few steps to his piano. His favourite tunes ringed in his ears. He could see your ghost of a fingers on the keyboard, playing all gracefully.

When he looked down, a pile of grey, powdery substance caught his attention. How could he possibly not see this when he entered the room? He got on his knees and the source of smell was undeniably found. As he touched the powder, he felt his whole body shake in horror. His eyes closed tight when the faded memory of you getting up from the coffin came back.

“I love you. I love you. I love…” the words were repeated over and over again. Not thousands but maybe hundreds and thousands of times. He could hear you. You were not in the coffin. He could hear your steps in the room. Then he could hear your steps in the corridor. You were going in and out of rooms. Lestat could hear you mumbling things under your breath. He could hear your heartbeats and your rushed moves.

He wanted to open the lid of his coffin and get out. It was probably near sunrise and you had to go back to sleeping. When he pushed the lid, something blocked his exit. He tried to kick it and punch it when he heard you play the piano and keep talking.

“I want to see the sun rise in the sky again.” You said. “I want to see the clouds on the blue ocean of time.”

He called for you but you were not listening to him. As you played the melody from start to end, the fear in Lestat’s heart grew stronger. And when your fingers stopped, he felt a sharp pain all over his body. It was something he had never felt before. The greatest pain he felt was when he was transformed. He could never forget what it felt like for the next thousand years. But this, this was different. It was coming from somewhere deep. He wanted to rip his stomach open and find the core of the pain. His coffin got filled with his dreadful scream and he heard you shout in agony. He felt the pain in every inch of his body. With one last hard kick, he opened the lid successfully. Only to be greeted by bright, warm sunlight that was glowing beautifully in your shared chambers.

His skin started to burn immediately, and it was then Lestat knew what was happening. His jaw clenched and his tears burned his wounds when he heard your screams from the other side of the house.

“What have you done?!” He shouted but you didn’t respond. The sunlight was nothing compared the pain he was in as you kept burning. He could feel his blood boil in veins as yours dried up under the daylight. You were leaving him.

‘I have loved you, with everything I had in me.’ Lestat didn’t know if you spoke aloud or he just imagined, rather wished you have said it. Maybe it wasn’t too late, Lestat tried to get up but his body was damaged enormously. He could feel the sunlight penetrate into his bones with every second he was spending in front of the open curtains. But he had to save you! He cried and tried to get up again. And again and again. Until he couldn’t hear your screams anymore.

The house fell into a dead silence in seconds. Only thing that could be heard was the silent sizzling of Lestat’s burns. He stoped breathing and he stoped trying to get up. His lifeless eyes fell onto his hands. He laid back in his coffin and pulled the lid back on with a stinging move.

It was a nightmare. An unbelievably bad nightmare. Maybe the worst one he had have been for decades. You were sleeping in your own coffin peacefully. Lestat was going to see you when sun came down and he was going to kiss your lips with a smile on his face. He was going to carry you around the house like a princess and read your favourite poems just for you. You were going to forgive. And maybe in time, you were going to forget. He was going to change and try to be someone better than who he was now. Both of you were going to be happy again, together. He smiled with excitement with the thoughts on his mind. The smell of burned flesh tickled his nose.

—

“You do not know this girl!” Lestat said aggressively as he watched Louis lay the little girl on the bed carefully. Louis’s bright green eyes were full of fear and guilt when he faced Lestat again.

“Make her like us!” He said with a bitter hope in his voice. Lestat pressed his lips together when he heard him utter those words. This cannot be happening, he assured himself hopelessly.

“Non c’est impossible. Elle est trop jeune!” Lestat said in frustration as Louis walked closer to him with hurry. Lestat's heart was pounding fast in his chest. The images of a distant memory was blurring his vision. The same eyes from decades ago were looking at him again. The same eyes that were full of guilt, sorrow and hope with an innocent child at the edge of death in the arms of the person he loved. His chest tightened when Louis kept talking, pleading to save the little girl’s life. What could Lestat do? Was he curse to live same life over and over again for the rest of the eternity?

He could never forget you. He didn’t know how long he mourned you. Days, months, years? Maybe he was still mourning you with the little box in his closet that was filled with your ashes. It took him years to find the courage to try again. And when he kissed Louis for the first time, he felt like finding light in his murky world. But guilt ate him inside out. He wondered if you would be wounded when you learned that he was capable of loving again. He tried to reassure himself that the thing he had with Louis was different than what he had with you. You would always be his wife. Your wedding ring on a necklace that was around his neck was the proof of it.

“Please I can’t have her die!” The pain in Louis’s voice broke his heart. He remembered this feeling so well that it almost hit him on the face. He remembered how it felt like to be helpless when his lover was begging him to change things, set things right and how he couldn’t do it.

“The gift cannot be given to children.” He said when his anger and fear filled him to his limit. The look on Louis’s face twisted something in his stomach.

“What do you mean? Yes it can.” Louis said breathlessly as he tried to find his strength back. All he needed was to save this girl’s precious life. She laid on the bed, unconscious, coughing out the flames silently and she was all he needed in that moment.

“The great laws forbid it!” Lestat spited out as if he had poison on his tongue. Anger appeared on Louis’s face and Lestat regretted what he just said.

“The great laws?” Louis said mockingly. He sounded bitter and every octave of his voice cut both men deeply. “She gonna die in front of us!”

The next thing Lestat knew was that Louis dragged the little girl on the flour, cried, begged, cried, fell on his knees in front of his companion and cried. Louis’s usually gentle hands found Lestat’s body, he held onto him like he was the last thing on the world.

“Please, please.” It was all Lestat could hear. And the little girl’s raggedy breaths that were becoming slower and slower.

“My beautiful little daughter.” Lestat could not swallow, could not hold his tears back or his heartbeats stable when he heard Louis’s voice shatter as he said the words. He hated how his story repeated itself. He hated how he was always the one who had to make this decision.

“Please I’ll be anything.” Louis begged and cried. Lestat wanted to curl into a ball and never wake up again. He looked down at this companion, his lover, the man who saved him, begging him to make him a father.

“Please, please, please…” It was all Louis was saying when Lestat remembered your screams after your little boy died. He remembered how yours eyes looked dead inside and even your smiles were full of grief. He remembered how you begged him and he didn’t listen to you. And then how he lost you. He was a fool to think that you were going to be alright after your son died. He was a fool to think you were going to forgive him and be happy again. And he was a fool to think that you were going to stay with him after what he did to you.

There was a no day passed after your death that he didn’t regret not turning that boy. Great laws forbid it! At what cost he had followed the laws when he was on the other side of the world, oceans away from the last vampire he had seen? He regretted his choice everyday of his last few years and he didn’t know if he would be able to mourn one more person.

He looked down at Louis and saw your crying eyes stare back at him. He looked up instantly.

“You will regret this for the rest of your life.” He said. Yet he didn’t know if he was talking to himself or Louis. Maybe both. He walked to the little girl on the floor and picked her body with ease. Poor thing was covered in burns and couldn’t open her eyes. His blue eyes found Louis’s relieved shoulders and his fangs found the girl’s small neck.

[deesseshesca]

PAC : How can I best monetize my passions while staying true to myself?

Pull up we can do it on the red light ...

Hey Chérie D'Amour,

Sorry for the ghosting but your girl was going trough it with her health and mental. Plus fucking exam week ... can't wait for winter break. Also I am not travelling this holidays ... I am actually waiting for my birthday week so we are sooo onnnn baby ! Christmas advent calendar on KO-FI: Delulu December ! Let's do a deep dive on weather it is worth it or not to bring your situationship next year. Plus until January is all about GIRLBOSS reading on my blog.

xoxo,

I missed y'all so much

SHESCA.

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PILE 1

Your heart beats with the rhythm of a dreamer, a soul brimming with untamed passions. But dreams alone are whispers—they need hands to shape them, feet to chase them, and roots to ground them. You’ve been hoping the tides will carry you to your destiny, but the waves are asking you to swim.

Success doesn’t arrive on the wings of wishes; it is born in the quiet rituals of discipline. It’s not about running at full speed or burning out in a blaze of inspiration. It’s the art of showing up when the world is quiet, when the spark feels dim, and when the path ahead looks steep.

Don’t let the weight of waiting fool you into thinking you’re stuck. You’re not. You’re gathering strength, learning to wield your creativity like a blade, and building a foundation that can weather the storms. But you must lean into the effort, the structure, the persistence that transforms a dream into a masterpiece.

Your success is not a question of if—it’s a question of how much love you’re willing to pour into the process. Build slowly. Tend to your passions like a garden: water them with effort, prune them with reflection, and protect them from the weeds of distraction. You’re not chasing success; you’re becoming it, step by deliberate step.

Remember, you are the creator of your own rhythm. Make it a song worth dancing to. ✨

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PILE 2

Your fire is a dazzling force, but it flickers, waiting for a spark you think will set everything ablaze. You’ve been chasing the thrill of momentum, the lightning bolt of inspiration that will make it all click. But the truth is, chasing that spark is what leaves you burned out and standing still.

Life doesn’t wait for perfect timing or the rush of adrenaline—it unfolds in the quiet persistence of steady hands. The impulse you crave is fleeting; it’s the ember, not the flame. Instead of waiting for the universe to light your path, become the fire. Stoke it with intention, feed it with patience, and protect it from winds that will only blow it out.

You don’t need a grand sign or a sudden burst of energy to begin. The magic lies in the tiny sparks you create each day, the ones that don’t burn you out but warm you, guiding you forward step by step. Let go of the need to feel ready—readiness is an illusion. What you’re looking for isn’t found in fleeting flashes but in the steady glow of your own commitment.

Take your passions and treat them like a canvas. Add a brushstroke each day, no matter how small. Build something real and lasting—not in a rush, but with love, with care. Success isn’t about speed; it’s about direction. Choose yours, and keep moving, no matter how softly the fire burns. ✨

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2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

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PILE 3

Your world is brimming with promise, a masterpiece waiting for the final touch—you. Everything is aligned, the stage is set, but the spotlight feels distant because you’ve been holding back, softening your edges to fit spaces that were never meant to contain you.

To reach your ultimate reward, you don’t need to do more, build more, or change who you are. You need to be unapologetically yourself. Peel back the layers of hesitation, the fear of being too much or not enough. The truest version of you is what the world has been waiting for—raw, unfiltered, and vibrant.

Your dreams are not fragile. They’re not asking you to tiptoe; they’re begging you to dance. Pour your quirks, your passions, your imperfections into everything you touch. The path to your reward isn’t about perfection—it’s about authenticity. The world will celebrate you not for fitting in but for standing out.

So stop dimming your light to make others comfortable. Stop shrinking yourself to fit spaces that feel safe. Be bold. Be loud. Be messy if you have to, but let it all come from the heart. When you show up as your truest self, you don’t just touch your reward—you become it. ✨

PREVIOUS READING

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

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[radio-fmm]

Turmoil

Law x gn reader

Warnings: little fight between Law and reader but nothing crazy, sfw and fluff at the end, good ending, FEELINGS

Word count: 1.6k

Summary: In which you save Law’s life and he gets mad at you

Masterlist

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

The moonlight danced with the dark sea water, accompanying you in your office as your eyes struggled to stay focus on the paper work in front of you, it was hard to tell the time when you lived in a submarine, but your body knows its well past 2 am, begging for you to snuggle into bed and drift away

From the shadows behind your door emerged your Captain, looking as tired as you did, a brow arching in confusion

“What are you doing?” His low raspy tone makes you jump on your seat as your eyes open wide in his direction, before they roll in annoyance and your eyebrows furrow

“Doing the work that YOU assigned me, Captain” the tone of your answer lets Law know that you’re still mad at him

“Should’ve thought better before-“ suddenly, and surprisingly you interrupt his so re-used speech he had given you a million times over since that evening

“Oh give me a break!” You trow your pen on the table, slamming your hands before gifting him the nastiest look he had ever witness painted on your face

Some days ago, the Heart Pirates found themselves in yet another fight were things weren’t going well for their Captain. You were the crews strategists and whenever you were caught in situations like these you were always by Laws side, but this time he had made you promise to stay out of trouble for this one, which in all honesty had struck your pride. Everyone knew how relentless of a fighter you were, that’s why you had gained such a position in the crew, so being told to back up was like a punch in the stomach, specially coming from your trusted Captain

Trafalgar Law was a stubborn, stubborn man, and that sometimes got him in more trouble that he could handle, as the enemies arrow flew trough his direction and a sword was drawn to his heart, in a blink of an eye you jumped in to protect him, without a second thought

Nothing bad had happened to you, you had came out victorious with a couple of scars nothing out of the ordinary, so when you were met with Laws angry eyes, a long speech on why what you had done was absolutely stupid and a punishment, you were left puzzled, and humiliated in front of all of your crew mates

Since then, you had been locked in your office, getting the extra work the doctor had assigned you so that ‘you learn how to listen’ done, and avoiding any words and looks of his

“I saved you” you got up of your chair as you walked towards the frame of your Captain, he may tower over you, but that would not stop you

“You put your life on the line y/n-ya, that I don’t tolerate” he answers you with a stern voice, eyes examining your every expression

“I did what I did because I wanted to, you may be the one giving orders around here, but you do not get dictate when or how I die”

As you get closer, Trafalgar cannot help but start to feel that maybe he was being selfish, after all, you had given him the greatest of gifts

Knowing there’s someone out there that is willing to die for you, no questions asked

But at the same time, the mere thought of losing you because he couldn’t be up to the task of protecting you boiled his blood and made his stomach turn a million times over

“Then maybe, you shouldn’t have joined my crew in the first place” he blurts out, every single word hitting you like a venomous snake bite, your heart clenching at the thought of being unwanted

Your greatest fear

Suddenly your body language does a 180, your anger being replaced with what could only be perfectly described as heartache. Almost immediately the doctor regrets even stepping foot in your office, before he can say anything you’re already back on your seat

“Sorry Captain” the pain in both your voice and your face makes Law hurt, and panic, and regret, yet words fail to come out of his mouth… just when he needed them most

“Don’t stay up too late” is all he can say before closing the door behind him

Next days in the Polar Tang were a pain, Law had been quite more irritable around everyone, even snapping on poor Bepo. You were either locked away working or in your room and sometimes even skipping dinner just to not cross paths with the damn surgeon, and if you were unlucky enough to do so, you would turn away immediately

Everyone knew something was up between the two of you, Ikkaku and Penguin had showed up at your office asking if everything was ok. You decided to keep it to yourself, you knew if Law found out you’re talking about him behind his back, about personal matters? Yeah, you would be dead to him, and even when mad, you respected him

Shachi was send to dig around Law, but when your name crossed his lips the doctor immediately shot down the conversation, this confirming their suspicions

But then, you finished the damn paper work, and guess who was the one you needed to hand it to?

You tried to convince anyone else to deliver the papers to Laws office, but it seemed like everyone had catch up and found this as an opportunity for you to make up with him, frustrating you beyond comprehension. They had even got to Bepo first

“Sorry y/n, I was told to tell you to deliver it yourself” he offered you a sympathetic smile, afraid of your answer, you just sighed defeated and thanked him anyways

“Just go in and hand him the papers! That easy” Ikkakus voice rings in your head as you try to wash your nervousness away in front of Laws office. Hesitantly you knock on the door, feeling lightheaded at the mere touch of it

“Go away Shachi” the doctors muffled voice meets your ears, confused you answer with the tiniest “It’s me, Captain” After a pause that felt like it lasted a decade, thinking he may had shambles himself out of the office, you hear a “Come in” so you do

You enter the office slowly, almost as if you made any sudden moves you’ll get caught like a pray in the wild. Trafalgar is sitting at his desk, his hands fidgeting and eyes following your form

“I have the paper work you asked for” you stay pretty far away from the desk, fear written all over you making Law feel twice as worse as he had been feeling this past few days

“Thank you y/n-ya, just leave them here” his voice sounded softer, but this didn’t made you feel any less scared as you approached the desk, gaze fixated on the papers in your hand. As you positioned your hard wok on the desk Law makes the uncharacteristic decision to hold your wrist before you retrieved, a shock running through your whole body at the action

Law’s heart beats a million times per second as he finds the right words to approach the matter, maybe he should’ve thought about them before taking your hand, your soft skin touching his freezing him. You lock eyes for a second and finally Law understands everything he had done wrong, from being ungrateful, rude, harsh and just overall mistreating the person he cares for the most

He would rather being shot than admit he was in the wrong, but he knew if he didn’t he’ll lose you, which was the reason he had caused this mess in the first place, so he swallows his pride

“I am sorry, I shouldn’t have screamed at you in front of everyone, or made you do all this work and… saying those awful things”

The fear washes from your body as you hear his apology, something you never thought you’d witness in your life, you let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding since you stepped foot on the door, offering Law a genuine smile that made his heart fall to his feet

“It’s ok Captain”

“Law” he says, letting your hand go as his own insecurities disappear, thinking you were gonna bash at him after his apology

“Law” you parrot back, earning him another sweet smile of yours

“I just… didn’t wanted to lose you, I was so lost in that thought that I didn’t realize that’s exactly what I was doing” you had seemed to have pushed a button because he just couldn’t stop the thoughts that just fell directly to his tongue and overflow like a cascade out of his mouth

Laws eyes open wide as he sees you approach the other side of the desk, your arms wrap around his wide shoulders like the softest blanket, hugging him while he still sits on the chair, your head resting in top of his hat. The surgeon stays completely still, taken aback

“Thank you for apologizing Law, I really appreciate it” you whisper making his face bright red and his hands shake, the way your body weights over his makes his brain malfunction and his heart go wild

You let go and approach the door of the office, Law remaining completely broken and flushed in his seat

“See ya’ at dinner.. Law” you say his name mischievously, giggling after before you disappear

The Captain stays still for a while, alone in his office, thinking about everything being open about his thoughts and feelings had gained him, and how addicting his name sounded falling from your sweet lips

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

This came to me in a dream and wrote it in almost one sitting lmao, feel free to request anything you wanna read I am having so much fun writing his emo ass

Reblogs are appreciated ;)

[97linelover]

Summer lovin’ - Kim Mingyu

summary: Summer break means hanging out with friends, spending time with your loved ones and enjoy the weather.

What if you meet the love of your life on the beach and the drama unfolds from now on?

content: non idol Mingyu x non Idol reader, fight,angst, happy end,fluff, jealousy, lot´s of love

wc: 3.4 k

a/n: In the summer time I always binge watch grease, it makes me so happy. Growing up It was my dads favorite movie.

On a warm summer evening in a small coastal town, a story began as beautiful as the setting sun on the horizon.

Mingyu, a young man with dark hair and a dazzling smile, and you, with sparkling eyes and an beautiful laugh, met on the beach. It was a small and silly encounter, but one that would change your lives forever.

Mingyu led his group of friends who spent the summer hanging out, throwing beach parties, surfing, and having endless conversations. He was charming, popular, and always had a sneaky remark ready.

He was just the dream boy of everyone around here.

You, on the other hand, were new in town. You had moved there with your family for the holidays and were enjoying the peace and beauty of the coast. Your character was rather shy and held back.

That evening, when you first met, sparks flew immediately. You bumped into each other when Mingyu was tossing a can of soda to a friend, and you were packing up your beach bag. The soda landed right at your feet, spraying you, and you laughed as Mingyu grinned apologetically.

He was fascinated that you did not care the slightest about your yellow Summer Dress being full of soda right now.

"That's quite an introduction," you said, laughing, wiping some of the liquid of.

"I hope it wasn't a bad one," Mingyu replied, handing you a towel.

"Well I was just packing up anyways, It´s washable" you shrugged and from that moment on he knew you were different.

He took you out for dinner a day later.

From then on, you spent every day together. You rode bicycles through the streets of the town, shared ice cream at the pier, and danced to the sounds of beach concerts. Mingyu showed you his favorite spots while you shared stories of your old home.

Mingyu made this new home feel like you´ve been here forever, all the little memories he shared with you made you feel good.

As the summer days turned into weeks, your bond grew stronger. You had deep conversations under the stars, built sandcastles on the shore, and watched countless sunsets together. Mingyu found himself opening up to you in ways he never had with anyone else. And you, who had always been a bit reserved, felt completely at ease with Mingyu.

The way he lifted you up at the beach and ran into the water with you, the two of you just laughing like crazy, gave your mind some peace.

One afternoon, Mingyu took you on a surprise date to a hidden cove he had discovered as a child. The cove was a paradise, with crystal-clear water and soft sand. You spent the day swimming, exploring the tide pools, and lying on the beach, talking about your dreams and aspirations. As the sun began to set, Mingyu lit a small bonfire and brought out a guitar. He played a song he had written for you, his voice blending with the sound of the waves. It was a moment of pure magic.

His voice was deep and soft at the same time, it felt like some kind of home and safety.

As he put his guitar away you climbed into his lap, his large hands digged into your hips trough the fabric of the petticoat dress. His thumb softly stroke your cheek and you leaned in kissing him softly.

This was the first kiss the two of you shared, his hands wandered under your dress, your fingers playing with the hairs on his nape.

As the night continued Mingyu was hovering over you "you´re so beatiful Y/N" he said honestly and kissed you once again.

He took his time with you, cherishing your body and making you feel safe when he took your Virginity.

It was messy doing it at the beach, but in this exact moment, how he kissed you, how he rolled his hips, how he marked your body just felt perfect.

And you both felt so safe and loved.

But like every summer, this one too had to end. With the beginning of the new school year, you had to face the challenges of everyday life. Mingyu returned to his familiar surroundings, surrounded by his friends, and you tried to adjust to your new school.

Your first day back at school was a stark contrast to the carefree days of summer. Mingyu was greeted with high-fives and shouts from his friends, while you felt a pang of anxiety as you navigated the unfamiliar hallways. You had been looking forward to seeing Mingyu again, hoping to rekindle the magic of the summer, but when you saw him in the hallway, he walked past you without a second glance.

Confused and hurt, you approached him after class. "Mingyu, it's me," you said, hoping he had just been distracted.

Hoping that this day just made him as nervous as it made you.

He looked at you with a puzzled expression. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

You felt your heart sink. "It's me y/n... from the beach this summer. Come on quit the act" you´re voice was full of fear.

The only person you knew acting like you´re a stranger after this beautiful summer.

Mingyu's eyes flickered with recognition for a brief moment, but he quickly masked it. "Oh, right. Sorry, I was just really busy. See you around."

As he walked away, you couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal. The Mingyu you had spent those magical summer days with was now acting like a stranger. It didn't take long for you to find out why.

Mingyu's ex-girlfriend, Minji, had taken notice of you and Mingyu during the summer. Now that school had started, she was determined to keep him within her grasp.

She was still deeply in love with Mingyu, he was the highschool sweetheart, of course she wanted him.

Minji was popular, beautiful, and used to getting what she wanted. Seeing you with Mingyu ignited a jealousy that she couldn't contain. She spread rumors about you, trying to undermine your relationship. Whispers in the hallways and snide comments from her friends made you feel isolated and unsure.

Mingyu, pressured by his friends and Minji, decided it was easier to pretend he didn't know you. He thought it would protect you from Minji's wrath, but it only made things worse.

You felt abandoned and alone, navigating the harsh realities of high school without the support of the person you had grown so close to.

You had thought Mingyu would be by your side at the beginning of this new Journey.

But seeing him laughing with his friends group, meanwhile you were sitting alone on the bleacher brought back the harsh reality that this was just some summer fun for him.

But after some weeks Mingyu approached you, he did not leave your side and he always went to the beach with you.

He even asked you out to accompany him to the School Dance, you werent sure at first, but as he placed some kisses on your collarbone you agreed.

One particularly painful incident happened during a school dance. Mingyu had promised to meet you there, but Minji intercepted him, feigning a crisis to get his attention. As you stood waiting, watching couples dance and laugh, you felt a knot of anxiety in your stomach.

You felt like everyone laughed at you, the newbie being left alone at the school ball.

When Mingyu finally arrived, looking flustered, you could see Minji watching from a distance, a smug smile on her face.

"What took you so long?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

"I'm sorry, y/n. Minji... she said she needed help," Mingyu explained, but you could see the guilt in his eyes.

"So you always put her first?" you asked playing with the hem of your dress.

"No it´s not like that, I´m just to nice, if someone needs help I´ll help" he sighed cupping your cheek "let´s just enjoy the night sunny" he smiled.

You loved that he called you that because you always were the sunshine in his days.

And as your head laid on his chest, while the two of you swayed from side to side you felt like everything will be alright.

The tension between you and Minji reached a breaking point one afternoon at the beach.

"aren´t you ashamed of yourself? You´re a nobody, trying to steal my life Y/N" she spat. You could just stand there and watch her throwing insults at you "you could never be like me, you´re a nobody, Mingyu is just confused what he wants" She confronted you.

"And now you can´t even open that ugly mouth to talk, god damn what does he see in you" she said angry.

"He will come back if you´re not enough for him anymore" she spat and you gulped.

Mingyu arrived just in time to see you standing your ground, tears in your eyes but unwavering.

"Minji, stop," Mingyu said firmly. "This has gone too far."

Minji looked at him, hurt and anger flashing in her eyes. "You're choosing her over me?"

"I'm choosing what's right," Mingyu replied, taking your hand. "And what's right is not letting you hurt y/n anymore."

Minji's eyes narrowed. "You don't understand. She doesn't belong here. We belong together, Mingyu."

"That's not your decision to make," he said, his voice steady. "It's mine. And I've made my choice." he pulled you closer.

"You cannot be serious Mingyu, we were so good together" she whispered and glared at you "and then she came".

"It´s my life, my feelings, you can´t do shit about it Minji" he answered confident, Minji huffed and ran off.

As you looked up at him his fingers softly wiped away the tears "she´s not worth your tears Sunny" he whispered softly kissing you.

Minji's rage reached new heights. She began to spread more malicious rumors about you, this time saying you were using Mingyu for popularity.

She even went as far as to sabotage your schoolwork, framing you for cheating on an important test. You were called into the principal's office, and despite your protests of innocence, the evidence seemed damning.

It was funny because you were one of the best students here, and still they believed her.

Mingyu stood by you, though it strained his relationships with his friends. They questioned why he was risking so much for you, and Minji manipulated the situation to turn them against you both.

Mingyu's best friend, Jisoo, was particularly torn. He had known Minji for years and couldn't believe she would go to such lengths.

One evening, after a particularly rough day, you and Mingyu met at your secret spot on the beach. Tears streamed down your face as you told him about the latest rumor Minji had spread. Mingyu held you close, his jaw set in determination.

"We'll get through this," he said softly. "I promise you."

"how can you promise me? Nothing seems to work out" you sobbed against his chest.

"She´s just jealous Sunny" he kissed your head "but that does not allow her to hurt me like that" you said with a quiet voice.

"absolutely not, and I hope she realizes that I chose you" he lifted your head up "I want you, only you Sunny" he kissed you softly.

The final straw came during the school's annual talent show. You had been preparing a duet with Mingyu, a song that meant a lot to both of you.

On the night of the performance, Minji sabotaged the equipment, causing the music to cut out halfway through. The audience murmured in confusion, and you felt a wave of panic.

This had cost you a lot of strength to even to it and now this.

But then Mingyu took your hand and started singing a cappella. His voice was strong and steady, and slowly, you joined in. The audience fell silent, captivated by the raw emotion of your performance. When you finished, the room erupted in applause, louder than any before.

Mingyu smiled brightly at you kissing you "you did so great love" he whispered in your ear.

After the show, Jisoo approached you both, a conflicted look on his face. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't want to believe it, but I've seen enough. Minji's gone too far."

With Jisoo's support, more people began to see Minji's true colors. The principal reopened the investigation into the cheating scandal and discovered the truth. Minji was suspended, and you were exonerated.

Minji had done this to a few other students it seemed and the Principal was not happy.

As the school year progressed, you and Mingyu faced more challenges, but each one only strengthened your bond. You supported each other through exams, personal struggles, and the lingering effects of Minji's actions. You became each other's confidants and best friends, finding strength and comfort in your relationship.

One particularly memorable evening, Mingyu organized a surprise for you. He blindfolded you and led you to a secluded spot on the beach where he had set up a small bonfire surrounded by fairy lights. As you sat by the fire, Mingyu played a song on his guitar, one that he had written for you once again. The lyrics spoke of your summer together, your laughter, and your love. Tears welled up in your eyes as you listened, feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude for having met Mingyu.

When you entered his home you got lost within each other, whispering small I love yous and sharing your feelings with each other.

By the end of the school year, when summer approached once again, you and Mingyu stood on the beach, hand in hand, looking out at the ocean. You knew that this summer was just the beginning of your journey together. Because true love always finds a way, no matter what obstacles life may present.

[stancestanomaly]

Horse Riding lesson! 🐴

Wrote a short scene for this cause my mind wouldn't stop replaying it over and over while I worked this.

-

Struggling against the rag that bound his hands behind his back, he tried to ignore the chuckle from the man who put him in this position. "Stanley! Y'know this was not what I was referring to when I asked for your assistance when learning to ride a horse!"

"Aww, sug'r~" Stan's throaty purr sent a wave of heat up Ford's spine. "This is gonna help ya, you hafta learn to stay on yer mount if ya gonna be ridin' it."

"Then why must I be in your lap, instead of practicing on an actual horse? And why do you insist on chewing on that?"

"Becuz darlin' it's like chewing gum in a way." Stan pinched the wheat between his teeth. "And the last time you tried to ride a horse, you ended up in the horse's trough. Remember?"

"Don't remind me," Ford groaned as another chuckle tumbled from his brother. "But I don't see how your argument counters, the fact that I can't practice on a real horse."

"N' all honesty, I'm all the practice yur gonna need. Y'know I got all the horsepower." He ran his hands up Ford's thighs as he moved to give his butt a squeeze. "I mean, I know yur buns do~"

"St-Stanely," Ford gritted his teeth, as blood rushed across his face.

"Wha? Ain't like I'm lyin', I can still hear yur pretty voice singin' my name as we fucked n' the barn." Caressing his twin's sides as the memory replayed.

"And I still remember all the prude language that left your mouth too," Ford grumbled at the strong hands that danced along his trunk and ushered forth another wave of satisfying warmth.

"N' I still remember how disheveled yur hair was while your face was redder than that time ma got mad at us for playin' in mud after she just washed our clothes."

"I also remember dad chasing us because they were our good clothes too," he smiled as the sound of Stan's laughter rang in the air, like music to his ears. He listened to the tune a little longer before he cleared his throat. "So about my lesson, are you gonna help me or not?"

"Sure am darlin'," Stan spat out the wheat before he leaned up to capture his brother's lips. Stan strummed Ford's cords, drawing out lustful melodic moans as he stuck his tongue into Ford's mouth. Joining in on the song libidinous desires. He bucked his hips to usher out another chorus of bubbling lust between them.

Pausing their record, Stan drew back to get a look at Ford as he panted through closed eyes with a cherry-red bridge stretching across his face. Admiring how the sunset streaming through the widow panted his brother's features.

"I say we take this to the bedroom," Stan purred, tightening his hold on his brother. He stood up from the couch, tossing his brother over his shoulder. "Alrighty cowboy, let's go give ya that lesson~" Smacking his brother's butt as he sauntered to their room.

"St-Stanley, w-wait, this isn't what I was referring to!" He squirmed, as he was carried out of the den, up the stairs, and down the hall toward their room.

"Stanleeeyyy!" Ford shouted as the bedroom door was shut and locked behind them.

-

Had a ton of fun writing that, lol. This is my second time drawing ranch life/cowboy 30!stans. (Honestly, I should draw them more often. Because Stan's with that hair is doing something for me🥵.) The first time I drew them was two years ago for another set of Halloween stancest drawings I did. The drawings. I had liked this au idea so much that I wrote a fic about it but never actually finished it😅 So maybe I'll do that sometime soon... Anyway, have some ranch life stancest! 🧡🤎

[fashionteahouse]

I had another idea Paul x stripper where the pack takes Paul to the strip club for a bachelorette party and get him a private dance with the best dancer there and what a surprise the girl behind the mask is his imprint he didn’t think he would ever imprint hence to him being engaged but it’s too late the dance is over and she has other clients does he go trough with the wedding? He runs into her at the grocery store few days later and knows it’s her by her eyes. Would he pursue her? Why is she a stripper? Would the pack approve? Would she continue dancing? Is she a hoe lol?

okay we shall find out :^> hope you enjoy :)

sticky - paul x reader

part two

Looking at the place that he was supposed to go in, his pack brothers were more than excited.

“This is your last weekend of fun before you’re locked down for life.” Jacob joked to him and Paul rolled his eyes. But, it was true. He didn’t care too much because deep down, he was glad that he was getting married in the first place.

He knew that imprinting was rare, so he didn’t expect it for himself. He constantly told his pack brothers that he didn’t think the spirits would gift him one after running through so many girls.

After a lot of time of seeing his pack brothers be able to find their other half, he silently wished the same for himself. He still had to go home alone, in an empty bed, and repeat his days over and over again.

Until he met her, she was everything that he could’ve asked for. She was hard to chase, turning Paul down whenever he would try to get close, until one time she broke down and agreed to go on a date with him. She was weary of his reputation, wanting to protect her heart but, Paul’s actions showed her different. That’s why she said yes when he proposed to her.

Being engaged made him even more hopeful. If he didn’t imprint, he felt he would be okay. Plus, he felt that the spirits have seen him take action to make a commitment to one girl in his life and the imprint trait will ease right on past him.

“She’s the best dancer here. You’ll love her.” Embry tells him as it was revealed, a private dance for him.

He was uninterested but, he still wanted to make an effort to have fun for tonight.

He sat in the cloudy designed room as the woman in the mask walked in and he was immediately captivated. He didn’t know what was going on or happening. But, he did know that the touches felt so good. This mystery girl brought him into this world.

You didn’t know who he was, but he only motivated you to feel comfortable. You felt safe and was glad that he wasn’t a creep like the others. Something about his gaze made you feel like he was really seeing you, not just you as the dancer.

You straddled him and grind your hips forward to invite him into the mystique.

The time was up and you had left the room and went into the dressing room. You had to get yourself together. Paul didn’t know where you went, he idled around as the guys thought he was hungry for more. They were right in a sense but he needed to see your entire face.

He didn’t expect the spike of jealousy when he seen you take someone else’s hand to the private room, someone requesting a private dance with you.

At home, his mind was preoccupied. His fiancé’s touches felt wrong. He knew he had imprinted but he didn’t understand it. He was getting married.

He pushed down his feelings, as he didn’t want to have sudden cold feet, as he thought that’s what it was.

He was ashamed. The eyes he looked into while he thrusted himself into his soon to be wife didn’t match the intensity of yours. He couldn’t take it anymore as he flips her over, rather to see the back of her head than the wrong eyes.

“Paul, I really need some headache medicine. I have this throbbing headache.” his fiancé says as she rubs her temples a bit. She laid on the couch with a blanket as she closed her eyes a bit.

“Yeah. I will be right back.” he tells her and lands a kiss on her cheek.

He read the milligrams of the headache pills.

With the desired small box in hand, he makes his way to check out and that’s when he froze. He saw those same eyes look in confusion as they tried to find something.

Those eyes pulled him in like a siren when they found yours.

You felt a bit anxious as you recognized the man from the club. Forgetting the rules, you couldn’t help but stare back.

Paul decided to risk it and make his way towards you. He had to know who you were, why you do what you do, and all.

But, you were pulled away by another girl. She shook her head a bit as you both let the cashier ring up the items you both had.

“He’s going to be mad.��� she mutters to you.

“I don’t care.” you mutter back but deep down you did. You just couldn’t help it.

After patrol, he didn’t go straight home. He went right back to the same club. The problem was, he didn’t know the name that you went by.

“She had a mask.” he explains.

“Many of my girls wear masks. You know her name?” the club owner says and then takes a sip of his drink.

“No. I don’t. But, I know her and I need to…Tell her something important.” he says.

The club owner sighs a bit, taking a look at Paul before getting up. The owner knew there was only one girl that knew how to keep guys coming back.

You come out, not in skimpy clothes, but lounge clothes as you were ready to go to change for tonight.

Your eyes widen a bit as you seen the same guy again. Paul’s eyes widen a bit as he takes a look at your face.

“Hurry up with this. You got five minutes. I don’t need you to fuck up my money.” the man tells you before leaving off.

Paul glared at the man.

“You let him talk to you like that?” he asks.

You sigh, “Look. What do you want? You can’t keep following me.”

“I’m not following you.” he says.

“Then what do you want? Huh?” you ask.

Paul didn’t know how to go about this. He didn’t plan it out too well. He just had to see you.

“After work, can we sit down somewhere?” he suggest.

“Are you going to pay me?” you ask.

Paul mused a bit before nodding, “Yeah. I just want to talk.”

“Alright.” you say and walk away.

He didn’t stay in the club as he made his way home. He didn’t have to ask to know you got off late.

“There you are. I was about to ask Sam where you were.” his fiancé says to him and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“I took the long route home.” he explains.

He watched the clock without bring awareness. His wolf was itching to go back out, to see their mate. He sensed how important it was for him to see you. He wished he asked for your name when he had the chance.

He breathed out a sigh of relief when his fiancé started to breathe heavy, the television glowing her sleeping face. He carefully placed her legs off of his lap and made his way out of the back door.

Paul’s timing was right as you came out of the club door. The club owner stood at the entrance door, smoking a cigarette. You look to him when you seen Paul and the man jerks his head as if he’s approving something.

Paul noticed this as he began to walk with you to a fast food joint. He placed some money on the table as you sat across from him.

“Are you hungry?” he asks. You shake your head.

“What do you want to talk about?” you ask.

“What’s your name?” he asks. You scoff as you look down, “I can’t tell you that.”

“Why?” he asks.

“We’re strangers. I don’t know you.” you tell him.

“I’m Paul.” he says to you. You sigh a bit as he didn’t look like a creep. You tell him your name.

“That night, when you gave me the private dance, when we look at each other, did you feel anything?” he asks.

You did but, you didn’t know whether or not it was delusions so you copped out. You shook your head. His face fell a little and you couldn’t take the sight.

“I get that you might’ve felt something but, this job is just a job. That’s all this is, is a job.” you tell him.

“I know that. I don’t care that this is..Where you work. I just want to get to know you. And I mean you as a person.” he says.

You nervously laugh as you didn’t know how to feel, “Trust me. You don’t need to know the real me.”

“And why not?” he asks.

“Paul. You seem like a really nice guy. A nice guy like you don’t need to get involved with a girl like me.” you tell him.

“What’s a girl like you? A dancer? So what.” he says. You shake your head as you say quietly, “You don’t understand.”

“Help me understand.” he says. The genuine statement makes you feel memories that you worked so hard to push away. You get up, “I gotta go.”

He calls your name in desperation and placed a gentle hold on your hand, you look down as his touch made you feel at ease.

“Take my number. If he does anything to you, you get me. Alright?”

You nod slowly as you can tell he meant what he said.

“I’m going to be checking up on you.” he tells you. You don’t say anything.

Paul’s fiancé started to notice the distance. She asks the boys if they notice Paul’s behavior.

“Our wedding is in four days. I hope he’s not getting cold feet.” she says to both Sam and Emily who have been happily married for a year now.

“I doubt it. He seems to be very devoted to you.” Emily reassured the worried girl.

“He doesn’t come right home. I’m worried that…I’m worried that there’s someone else.” she says in solemn.

“If Paul was seeing someone else, he wouldn’t be able to hide it in his mind.” Sam says with confidence. This brings ease to Paul’s fiancé.

The thing was, Paul didn’t tell anybody that he imprinted.

As he got further to the club that you were working at, he heard commotion, near the back.

“I don’t want to. I only dance.” he heard you begging.

“I don’t give a fuck about what you want! Girl, I swear if you fuck my money up, it will be your ass!” he heard a male voice trying to dominate you.

“Please. Please don’t make me walk the track. That’s not what I do!” you beg.

“Listen to what I’m saying. Get your ass in that dressing room, put something on, and bring your ass right back out here so you can get in this car. Now!” the male voice says to you. Paul heard sniffs as you made your way into the back door. The man lit up a cigarette as he made his way to the entrance of the club, unlocking his car.

He made his way into the club, walking to where he thought you could’ve been.

“Sir, you’re not allowed back here.” the security guard says.

“I’m a friend of Y/N’s. She asked me to give her something.” Paul lies.

The security takes a look at Paul and knocked a bit at the door. You open the door and your face was wet with tears and Paul’s expression changed into worry.

“What do you want?” you bark out.

“Remember when you told me to give you something? We have to talk before I do.” Paul says, praying that you got the hint.

You wipe a stray tear before following him out the back door.

“What’s going on? I heard what was happening out there.” he asked you in hush tone. He took a look at your hands covering your exposed arms as the night air blew.

“It’s none of your business.” you say to him with an annoyed expression.

“You are my business.” he says. And you sigh in frustration, “I have to finish getting ready, alright! Just leave me alone.” you say, but deep down, that was the last thing you wanted him to do.

“Look, you don’t even want to do it. So, why? Why do you let him treat you like that? That shit makes me feel some type of way. He treats you like you’re a cash cow.” Paul says and you hated that he was right.

“He…He protects me.” you say but it was uncertain.

“You really expect me to believe that?” he asks softly, the mark around your eye told him otherwise. He had to contain himself from phasing, he didn’t want to scare you away.

“He does.” you say as you nod.

“Are you trying to convince me? Or yourself?” he asks.

“Paul, what do you want from me? Do you want to be my first client because I will tell him that!” you say as you start to feel overwhelmed.

“I told you, I felt something when we looked at each other. Now, if you stop pushing me away I can explain why. I care for your well being.”

You snort.

“Alright. What’s in it for you?” you ask him with narrowed eyes.

“What- what do you mean?” he asks in confusion.

“You’re not going to care for my well being for nothing. You don’t get nothing for free.” you say to him.

Paul sighs, “I don’t want to buy you. I just want your time.”

“My time is money.”

“Yeah. That you give to him.” Paul says and you scoff and start to walk away but, he grabs your arm, “I meant it. If you don’t want to do this…I will take you somewhere we’re you’re actually safe. He doesn’t have to know.”

“That’s impossible. He knows everybody. He will find me eventually. I’m not trying to get in trouble.” you say with your eyes down.

“Let him find me. I’ll crush him.” he says feeling anger develop deep within him at the thought of the man hurting you again.

“Please. Just can you please, trust me. You’ll know that you’ll never have to worry about him, this place, or…The track. I know you don’t want to do it.” he says to you.

You were hesitant but you so badly wanted to say yes. But, you seen what happened to the other girls who tried to escape from him, only to promise yourself that you would stay on his good side.

You nod slowly. That’s when he lifted you up and ran with you in his arms. You felt safe in his arms. You were only in a tank top and a skirt, you just hoped that the man who ruled over your money and life didn’t find you.

Paul knocked on Emily’s door.

Emily opens the door as her eyes widened at the sight of you in Paul’s arms. She tells Paul to come in as the night was chilly.

Paul didn’t care that his fiancé was watching this from the dining room table, questions was bouncing around in her mind.

After reassuring and sitting with you until you fell asleep in the spare room, Paul made his way out into the front of the house.

His fiancé asks one question with her arms crossed, “Who is she?”

The pack, who were now huddled in the front of the home instead of the living room, looked to Paul for answers.

“Someone who needs help.” Paul answers.

“Did you sleep with her?” she asks in desperation as Paul moves towards the fridge to get something to drink.

“No.” he says.

“You’re such a liar.” she chokes out.

“I just told you no. I didn’t lie. If you don’t believe me then I don’t know what to tell you.” he says with a shrug and takes a swig of his drink.

“Why is she more important than me? Is that why you haven’t been coming home? Because you’re too busy playing captain save-a-hoe?” she asks bitterly. Paul gets close to her face, feeling protective of you.

“Yeah. In fact she is. Look, I’m not doing this right now. It’s apparent you got your audience and if I were you, I would chill out before you get embarrassed.” he hissed. Paul walks away as his fiancé’s bottom lip wobbled.

She went home without Paul that night. Sam and Jared asked Paul without the others around, in the living room, “What’s going on?”

“I imprinted.” he whispered.

“How the hell did you hide that?” Jared asks. He remembers when he imprinted, that’s all he kept thinking about.

Paul shrugs.

“So, you’re breaking off the wedding? Right?” Sam asks him.

“I don’t know. I really don’t know.” Paul says.

“I mean…You kind of have to. You have an imprint now.” Jared says with a slight smile, happy that Paul got to experience the deep adoration that he felt towards his own imprint.

“Yeah, but she hasn’t accepted it nor have I told her.”

“That’s no problem. You can tell her when she wakes up in the morning. So, how did you meet?”

Paul chuckles a bit as he knew it was going to be the most unexpected place.

“You know. You all set the private dance up.” he says.

Jared and Sam share a look as they’re dawned with realization.

“You imprinted? On her?” Jared asks and Paul shot him a look to fix his tone.

“Imprinted on who?” Jacob asks as he made his way into the living room.

“The girl with the mask.” Sam answered.

“The stripper?!” Jacob looks to Paul.

“This is why. This is why I didn’t say anything.” Paul says as he stands up.

“Paul, don’t leave. Look, it’s just unexpected that’s all.” Sam says.

Paul doesn’t leave. He stayed the night until you woke up. Emily made breakfast for everyone and as the pack came over, Paul checked on you.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

You were buried under the covers as you slowly nod.

“Do you want something to eat? Emily made breakfast.” he tells you.

“I’m not hungry.” you say. Paul knew that was a lie but you looked petrified. You push the covers off of your body and you try to find the shoes that you remember having on.

“I need to leave. He has to know that I’m gone.” you say in a panicked state.

“You don’t have to leave. Please, stay.” he begs you. You shake your head.

You enter the front of the home and was embarrassed by the looks that came your way.

“Thanks for the hospitality but, I have to leave.” you say to everyone as you didn’t care to say it to just one person.

Paul follows you out.

“You don’t have to follow me.” you say as you start to walk, cursing yourself for leaving your phone at the club.

“I need to protect you.” he says.

“Look, I appreciate you for being there for me. But, this is my life. I told you, you shouldn’t be involved with someone like me.”

“Why not? Why won’t you give me that chance?” he asks you and you look away as tears sting your eyes.

“Because.” you say and try your best to hold in the tears that threatened to fall.

“This doesn’t have to be your life. Did he tell you that?” he asks you.

“He provided me a home, clothes, a phone, everything. I was just another teenage runway back when he took me under his wing I…I owe it to him. I owe it to him to show him how much I appreciate him.”

“Appreciate him for what? Taking advantage of you? Manipulating you? He didn’t do that out of the kindness of his heart.” he tells you.

“You don’t understand.” you say in denial. Paul couldn’t take it anymore as took you behind the home and into the backyard.

The only way to get out of this sticky situation was to reveal everything.

You saw the wolf, you couldn’t believe it. It was so strong but yet so beautiful. You immediately felt safe as you felt it’s eyes on you. You couldn’t believe that a perfectly normal boy could transform into a furry beast.

Paul was back to his human form, sliding on his discarded shorts. He grabs your hands, carefully explains to you how a shifter finds his mate. You understood. You understood the feeling that you felt as you couldn’t get him out of your head.

Your story reached the pack’s ears as they were inside of the home. You sat in Paul’s lap as you slowly ate. You learn that the pack would protect you besides Paul.

Emily gladly offered you to stay with her and Sam for as much time as you needed.

Paul took the ear beating. Paul took the body beating as his fiancé, well ex fiancé, let out her anger on him. Paul didn’t do or say anything as she cried out her broken heart. He felt bad, he did, but he couldn’t help who he imprinted on.

Statements of regret were thrown at him but, there was nothing that he could do.

He felt bad that the wedding had to be called off, but he felt complete. He hasn’t felt this complete and as selfish as it might’ve sounded, he wouldn’t change it for the world. He finally found his other half.

[fantasticsandwich]

yandere siren! neuvillette x reader (intro)

Adopted by the sea, you have devoted your life to discovering its mysteries. What happens when you stumble upon an enigma that returns your interest tenfold?

You don’t know anything besides the sea. Neither your name nor the person guided by it years before, but when the moon’s pale face greets you, leering over its wavering, abysmal reflection swathed in sheets of liquid silver and indigo, you recall how some things are only created to be viewed at a surface level. To delve any further is to invite your demise, so you have learned to fill your mind with other sinking thoughts, like how amongst all the treasures your ship ferries to gilded thrones, the finest gems are scattered amongst your motley crew.

However, despite the fact that courts across the land commission you to discover and steal, meager entails can no longer sustain your crew, and you refuse to let the Waverider be decommissioned. The piers are a marketplace of secrets, myth and fact alike, yet when you catch wind of a discovery that will send shockwaves across the earth, you would have been foolish not to investigate. Like any other sailor, you have heard of and long to discover the hermit kingdom of Fontaine, so when another captain aboard a smaller vessel was rumored to possess a map of a newly discovered waterway, you besieged it.

Grinding it to driftwood the very next evening, you did everything in your power to bring that map into your possession and fled, redirecting your course the moment it graced your hands. Now, with a chorus of shanties, you charge steadfast into uncharted waters, where cyclones await, eager to ensnare. You hadn’t anticipated the sudden shift in climate, but your crew is prepared to weather the storm at your side. Diluc, your second in command, stands on the deck, bracing himself against nothing, tottering around.

Your hands clasp around the wheel as if to wring the neck of the tempest itself. The gale roars its fury, clawing at the sails and throwing its weight against the stout hull of your vessel. Yet above the cacophony, your voice rises, slicing through the tumult.

“Retreat below,” you shout, barely audible as a thunderclap crackles across the sky.

Your crew, shadows cast in the intermittent glow of vengeful lightning, scurry across the heaving deck, moving with a bumbling grace, bodies bending and twisting to the will of the wind as they pour into the galley. Doors slam shut, soon to be barred. You scan the expanse of the ship, finding a stray, defiant figure creeping up the stairs, clutching the bannister to keep from spilling over.

“I gave an order,” you sternly declare.

“I won’t leave,” says Diluc, jaw clenched and brows furrowing.

His anger is as brazen as his fiery hair; it whips around like a flame dancing in the wind. He is filled with promise. With light. His loyalty to you, a no-name captain, is misplaced. Your survival is uncertain, but you will ensure your crew endures, no matter the cost. Even if that means discarding your life, they will live through the night.

“If you don’t leave now, you’ll leave at the next port.”

Gauging your sincerity, he creeps forward. You merely glare.

“Now. Or you’re fired.”

With a simper, he retreats. Alone now, you permit your shoulders to sag. It isn’t only the sopping coat that weighs you down.

Tousled by a ferocious wind, waves crest and trough, rattling the ship like brittle bones. Nestled at the helm, you grit your teeth and face the brunt of the aquatic assault. Battered by torrents, your rain-soaked coat weighs like stones. Similarly burdened, your captain’s hat dips below your brow. With your sight cleared, an otherworldly vision is tossed aboard, piercing the veil of rain and darkness. A flash of silver, swift as lighting, slithers onto the deck. His skin holds the pallor of moonlight, a stark contrast to the storm’s grim palette. Those dark blue eyes, deep as the fathomless abyss, ensnare your gaze. The white tendrils of his hair whip about him, serpents writhing. Pointed ears peek through the wild mane, completing the image of a creature not quite of this world.

For a moment, the storm’s clamor quiets, as if the elements themselves held their breath in reverence. He is the embodiment of everything unknown that you sought—the whispered secrets hidden by the sea, the melody of unanswered questions

Briefly, your gazes clash. Stolen with the next tidal wave, the mysterious being is returned just as swiftly as he landed. In shock, your grip on the wheel falters. The tempest, seizing its chance, rears like a spiteful beast, wrenching the helm from her loosened grip. With a violent buck, you are gifted to the whims of gravity. The world upends: the sky, a churning of dark clouds above your head, now swiftly becomes the raging sea below. You are airborne but for a breath before the embrace of the ocean claimed you, a lover both cruel and seductive. The sea you adore is merciless: it offers a churlish welcome, engulfing you in its embrace. You plunge into the heart of the storm-tossed waters, and there is no gradual descent—only the shock of the cold that seizes your lungs, the harsh slap of brine against your cheeks. It is terrifying, this surrender to an earthly yet uncaring supreme. Yet amidst the terror, a strange beauty whispers, almost like a voice in a shell.

Although the sea is dark, beams of sunlight and luminous animals dart through the billowing waves. Hordes of sickly pale flounder filter past in streams, storming you in a whirlpool. Halfway through this descent, enveloped in a cold, viscous pool where light dim and the world above are a distant memory, your life as a captain, your quest for memories lost—they are inconsequential. Here, in the clutches of the deep, your fragmented past us scattered further by the currents, your identity dissolving into the salt and spray. All of it—it was for naught. You are inconsequential compared to the raw might of the sea.

Amidst the turmoil, a figure descends with otherworldly grace. A lithe figure slices through the water, his form a specter of light against the oppressive darkness. With each fluid stroke, he encroaches, his pale skin luminescent beneath the frothing waves, long white hair trailing behind him like a comet tail. The ethereal sight of him strikes the remaining air from your lungs. Death is hauntingly beautiful; you will welcome it with open arms if this beautiful being is your harbinger.

As he approaches, the chaotic churning of the water softens into gentler undulations. His dark eyes, mirrors of the abyss, fix upon you with a precarious interest. His gaze meanders over you. Without warning, he ensnares your wrist with a touch both gentle and resolute. You glance down at where he holds you and notice a glimmering length of pale scales in place of legs. The cold fear seizing your veins is met with an inexplicable warmth. With his guidance, you began an ascent, and the surrounding waters seemed to part in reverence to his silent command. As if recognizing the sovereignty of its son, the tumultuous swells ebb away from you, creating a serene path towards the surface.

You cannot fathom the enigma that is this moment, nor the serendipitous fate that will, if only for a moment, bind your life to that of a non-human, to a siren. His motivations are shrouded, as impenetrable as the depths from whence he came.

Still, foam-capped, you breach the surface. You are hardly lucid enough to expel the liquid ice from your lungs, yet you realize how the winds die, how the waves cease their torment, how the storm abates to present you to him—a figure cloaked in gauzy light, sunshine gleaming from his snow-peaked head, stars in his eyes. Like clouds reflecting the sun, he is blinding.

As if conscious of his splendor, he tilts you back. You are too weak to protest as a large hand cradles the gap between your shoulders, the other, resting over your eyes. You feel brief pinpricks along your vertebrae but little else: eased onto your back, you are propelled through the waves, gliding seamlessly, without so much as a splash. You long to speak, but your throat is rimmed with salt. You offer no protest, lulled into sleep as a gentle hum picks up. Dull to your waterlogged ears, it almost sounds like a hymn.

A/N: only the intro for now! I'm hoping to have the rest out by the winter holidays but i've become a bit obsessed with this piece, so I'm nit-picking my prose. Thank you, swan anon, for introducing me to Genshin. While I haven't got a feel for most aspects, I'm really enjoying it. (Was there any reason to include Diluc? Not at all. Does someone have a Genshin crush? Maybe.)

[judesdrabbles]

The Cure (part III)

PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 4

On a night out, you stumble upon an uncomfortable situation with a strange man. Luckily, there was a certain someone that was just in the neighborhood.

A/N: Hi everyone! Thank you so much for reading The Cure. I’m glad people enjoy it. These next few chapters are going to be a lot more intense, so prepare and make sure to read the warnings! Let me know what you guys think. <3

word count: 2.1K

warnings: obsessive tendencies, yandere behavior, (mentions of) assault, misuse of power position, reader is drinking, smoking, SA, foul language

He had given his number to you after the incident with your car at his office, and of course he covered it up with a smooth lie. ‘If you ever need an emergency session,’ He had said. ‘You can always call me.’ After that, you had raised your eyebrows, and on his usually stoic face a grin appeared. ‘Or- if you find yourself stranded with your car again, and need your psychiatrist that is not versed in mechanics at all to help you out.’

You had shrugged it off as you chuckled. But you did save his number on your phone.

-

‘Come on, Y/N. First to complain about their love life had to take two shots. You’re pathetic!’ Your friend laughed, sliding two shot glasses filled to the brim with vodka across the bar. You cover your head in your hands and smile. ‘I guess I kind of am, huh?’

Red and blue lights danced across the room. Everywhere you looked there were people, dancing to the mediocre music that the underage, drug addicted DJ from your local town played. You didn’t go out that often, yet you could quite enjoy it. If you had enough to drink, that is.

You chug both shots down in one fluent motion, grimacing slightly. The numbing warmth began to spread trough you.

‘What do you think of him, huh?’ Your friend poked your side, teasing, then nodded in the direction of a stranger leaning casually against the bar.

You squinted trough the haze of lights. ‘Are you for real? He looks like he goes trough some shit.’

‘Isn’t that exactly your type?’ Your friend snorts.

‘Not exact- ugh, whatever.’

You take another shot.

‘Come on, you have to take some chances, Y/N. You’re so stuck up.’ Your friend jumped up from the barstool and grabbed you by the arm. ‘Come, come.’

You faintly struggled, but the alcohol clouded your judgement. Maybe it wasn’t so bad to get back in the game. Who knows?

She pushes you to the man’s direction. He smirks. ‘What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?’ He immediately drawled, his eyes scanning you shamelessly.

Alright. Maybe this was a bad idea.

You look around for your friend, but as usual, she had gone to the other side of the building to go and have some fun with God-knows-who.

You were alone in this.

‘Uh, yeah. Nothing much. Just having a nice time.’

The man puts up his hand and signals the bartender for two more shots.

‘Sure you are. I saw you staring at me already.’

This man was cocky. You didn’t like it.

‘Oh- well, my friend just thought it would be fun to-‘

‘You wanna come back to my place, beautiful?’ He didn’t even let you finish talking. This man’s mind was set on one thing.

‘What?’

‘What? Don’t tell me you don’t want the same thing. Why else would you be here?’ He gestures around the room.

You hate that he was kind of right. Didn’t excuse him for being a total dick, though.

‘This was a mistake. Good night.’

You quickly get off your seat and stumble swiftly outside. Your mind swam a bit. Even with that nice, numb feeling in your head you wouldn’t go home with such a loser.

‘Where are you going, pretty thing?’

Your eyes widen as you quicken your pace.

‘Leave me alone. I said that it was a mistake.’

‘I don’t think you get to decide that.’

The cold air outside quickly turned piercing as you felt a strong grip around your arm. One tug and you were off the main road, in an alleyway, with that same man in front of you.

‘Let me go, you asshole!’ You say as you twist around, but the man’s grip doesn’t butch as he grabs a fistful of your hair and makes you look at him. He had a burning cigarette pressed between his index and middle finger. The smoke was dancing around in front of your face.

‘Listen up, bitch. You better fucking behave before I decide to do worse things to you.’ His breath smelled strong, like cheap whiskey and cigarettes.

You wanted to disappear completely off the surface of the earth. The vodka shots from earlier really did a number on you and made your vision stir. The only thing you could do was whine- and a feeble attempt to push him away from you.

‘Let me go.’ You choked out, your voice trembling more than you’d liked it to.

But then a sudden sound- measured footsteps echoing off the alley walls- pierced trough the haze of your fear. The rhythm was steady, deliberate: each step louder than the last.

‘Y/N.’

Your head snapped toward the sound. The voice was calm. Almost unsettlingly so. What? Was that..?

In the midst of the darkness, a tall man walked over, his polished shoes clinking on the wet, paved stones. His hands were in the pockets of his well-tailored suit. His face was as calm as ever, but his eyes- they were dark. It was Dr. Vincent.

‘Do you know this man?’

‘Hey, man, get the fuck out. I’m busy here, can’t you fucking see?’ The man hissed, tightening the grip on your hair.

But Vincent doesn’t glance him one worthy look. He looks at you.

‘Do you know this man, Y/N?’

You shake your head. ‘No..’

Vincent presses his lips together. ‘I see.’

He strides over to the two of you in a few steps. And then it all happened in a heartbeat.

Vincent’s fist connected with the man’s face in a sickening crunch. The man released you, groaning loudly as blood gushed out of his nose and his eyes started to tear up. You stumble back, getting away from the man as Vincent seems clearly not done with him yet.

‘Don’t look, Y/N. Take a deep breath and wait for me.’ Vincent says calmly, looking at you. He quickly scanned you up and down, and was relieved to not see any visible injuries.

You nod, not getting any words over your lips. It was like they were sealed shut. The world spun even more around you, and you decided to squat down, running a hand trough your hair. You were shaking. What just happened? Why was your psychiatrist here? At this time? I mean, why do you even mind? He just saved your ass from something that could have unfolded to be way, way worse.

Vincent grabs the man by the collar and takes the burning cigarette from his calloused hands. ‘Such a pathetic excuse of a man.’ Vincent whispered, only inches away from the man’s face. The man sputtered, but any coherent words didn’t seem to come out. The cigarette was burning in Vincent’s hand, and the man instantly knew what was going to happen the moment he rolled one of his sleeves up.

‘Hey, man, come on-‘

He pressed the cigarette out on the man’s wrist as he could only squirm and cry out in his grip.

‘Look at you.’ Vincent gritted his teeth as he spoke, calmly as ever. ‘Isn’t this way milder than what you were gonna do to her, hm? Then fucking bear it. You disgust me.’

He throws the man harshly on the ground head first, the cigarette sticking to his skin for a bit before falling down with him. Vincent spits downward in the man’s bloodied face.

‘I’m not done with you yet. I’ll find you.’ He merely said as he turned back to you. He collected himself for a while, taking a deep breath as if trying to calm himself down.

You look up to see Vincent walking over to you. You didn’t see much of the man, since Vincent made sure to beat him up out of your sight.

‘I- Dr. Vincent.. what are you even doing here?..’ You let out when he came near. You were still squatted down, swaying a bit. It was clear to him that you were drunk.

‘Y/N.’ Vincent crouched down in front of you. ‘What did that man do to you? Tell me.’

Oh, how he wished he could hold you. How he wished he could kill that guy up front for even thinking of touching you. For coming near you.

He wanted so much. But he controlled himself. This was traumatic enough for you.

‘He- I was drinking- at the, uh.. bar.’ You say, looking into Vincent’s eyes. They were gentle. Not so .. dark anymore. ‘He followed me. He said if I struggled he would do worse stuff to me.’

‘Did he touch you? Anywhere?’

‘No.. no, he just..- you were on time. Just have a little bruise, I think.’ You roll up your coats sleeve and reveal the bruise the man left from grabbing you so harshly.

Vincent’s eyes flickered with something. He hesitated, then softly took off one of his leather gloves and reached out to your arm. He traced his fingers along the bruise. He had never thought he would do this to anyone; the mere thought of it made him sick to his stomach. But with you? It was so, so different. He wanted to kiss that bruise. Make it better for you.

But he didn’t. Not now. Not yet.

You felt Vincent’s rough fingers run along your bruise. What was he doing? Checking it? The doctor always made sure to keep his distance from you. And, mind you, this guy already had gotten a nervous breakdown about some mud under a guy’s shoe in his office.

So what was different now?

‘Thank you. For.. getting me out of this mess. I really owe you.’ You chuckle, although you just wanted to to melt into the cold pavement as your cheeks burned.

He noticed, of course. He always noticed.

‘You don’t owe me anything, Y/N. What that man did to you was vile. I’m relieved I could intervene in time.’

His hands slipped under your arms, steady and firm, and helped you up to your feet. You were still slightly woozy.

‘What ..- what were you doing here anyway?’ You ask. ‘Were you also going out?’

Vincent lets out a low chuckle, his lips curling into the faintest smile. ‘No, I’m not much for nightlife. I was running errands when I spotted you on the main road.’

It was true; he had never anticipated seeing you here tonight, but the universe had a funny way of aligning things. A chance encounter, though marred by the evening’s earlier ugliness, now felt like an opportunity. An opportunity he couldn’t waste.

‘Hey, Y/N. Let’s take your mind off things, hm? I say we go to my home. Talk a bit, and you can sober up. I wouldn’t like to leave you alone here. Not after this.’

You look up at him.

‘Isn’t that slightly .. unprofessional, doctor?’

‘Oh, well, it’s outside of office hours, isn’t it?’

You were not sure if that is how the rule went, but you nodded anyway. Besides, you would lie if you said you weren’t curious about your stoic psychiatrist.. who just beat up a man in an alleyway for you. Eh, you were too tipsy to drive anyway.

Vincent smiles at you. ‘Let’s go then.’ he said, stepping aside to give you some space. ‘My car is parked not far from here, outside the shop.’

‘You were wanting to run errands, right? Did I stop you from doing that?’ You say, noticing there were no bags in his hands.

Vincent’s eyebrows raise slightly. ‘Yes, I suppose you did. But..’ He checks his watch. ‘The store is still open. Would you like to come with me? My treat.’

‘You are being awfully generous.’

‘You don’t like that?’

The words had a sharp edge, as if to challenge you to disagree. Vincent did know you well. You spill all your secrets to him every week in every therapy session you have with him, after all.

‘Touché, doctor.’

A small victorious smirk appeared on his lips as you arrive at the store. The fluorescent lights felt jarring after the dim streets. Vincent made you pick out some snacks to eat. ‘To sober up.’ He said as he payed for you both at the register.

His thoughts wandered after letting you sit in the passenger seat of his car- next to him. He was slowly driving to his house on the edge of town and oh, how he wished he could just keep you there forever now. So you don’t have to be afraid of those irritable, creepy men on the streets. Their prying eyes. Their lustful gaze. He wouldn’t mind to buy you those nice snacks every day, any day, or anything at all, really. What is professionalism, if not being responsible? He was just being responsible for you. Looking out for you.

That was all.

[eqt-95]

I'm here to bring fluff and happiness back with this ♥️

ok so get this: my phone showed your ask as a red heart. so here I was, typing away about deep-throating popsicles and fingering milkshakes when I opened your ask on my laptop and saw a... white heart?! absolute witchcraft!

and since now i don't know what's right-side up from upside down, i offer a mash up: ❤️+🤍 or 'first kiss / realization' + 'kiss at the wedding / milestone'

p.s. thanks for the fluff and happiness injection. i needed it

- - - - - -

Kara loved going to weddings. What wasn’t there to love? There were flowers, delicious foods, endless dancing, and, best of all, that excuse to confess your deepest feelings in front of friends and family to the love of your life. 

She’d watched her sister and Kelly share their vows, commit to each other, and look darn good while doing it. She danced with Nia and Brainy to Bye-Bye-Bye which was technically of Alex’s no-play list, but Nia bribed the DJ. She stuffed her face with cake alongside Esme who was stubbornly fighting off the sleepies. She even had the most amazing pep-talk slash hug slash reveal with Lena.

The very best kind.

The kind that left her warm and seen and cherished.

The kind that left her wanting that same feeling for forever. 

The kind that felt like a Red Sun: held and understood and home. 

So why did she feel so… heavy and twisted inside?

Stumped. She was stumped. She was also in a slump. Her lower lip was quite close to a grump. But how to overcome this hump?

She shook her head. Now was definitely not the time for Dr. Seuss rhymes. Though silently she argued there was always time for Dr. Seuss rhymes.

Serious Kara won out. So instead of rhymes she stewed. She stewed and brewed and searched for a clue(d) -

“What’s up homie?” Nia asked, sliding across the bench and tipsily colliding into Kara’s side. “You missed REO Speedwagon. Even J’onn gave it his all; might’ve thrown out his back though. Poor guy. I am parched.”

Kara bit her lip and scowled and really really wanted a rhyme scheme to get her through this. “You love Brainy, right?”

“Woa, left field there swinger,” Nia smirked. Her attention was on the array of glasses with colorful drinks littering the table behind them. “Sure do.”

Kara slouched and let her chin find the palm of her hand. “So how did-”

“You think this is sour raspberry?” Nia interrupted, a cup of bright blue liquid appearing under Kara’s nose. “Or tropical punch,” she said.

Kara sniffed the cup. “Tropical punch.”

“Bonus,” Nia exclaimed and took a long drag. “You were saying?”

“Um,” Kara began without an ounce of heroic chutzpah. “How did you know?”

The question made the ‘heavy’ feeling morph into butterflies. It did nothing for the twisting. In fact, it exacerbated the twisting. It wrangled around her heart and made her breaths shallow with nerves. Definitely no chutzpah.

“Easy: He’s my person. My ride or die. To infinity and beyond. The Clyde to my Bonnie.”

“Are you sure that’s who you want to compare-”

“Look, it doesn’t matter. They went out with a bang,” Nia scoffed. “But fine, point taken,” Nia conceded then pulled another deep swig. “He’s the Orpheus to my Persephone.”

“I think you mean Eurydice.”

“Sure.” Her lips were now a faint shade of blue.

“But also, didn’t Orpheus fail-?”

“He did no such thing!” Nia proclaimed with rather unfounded enthusiasm. Juice sloshed onto the grass. “He went to the depths of hell for the woman he loved. He descended through souls and ghouls and fools-”

Kara wondered if this was the rhyme she needed. Maybe it was, because it propelled her up and across the lawn and so focused was she that Nia’s parting words of ‘Go get her, champ!’ fell of deaf ears.

She stumbled over lawn darts and accidentally destroyed a life-size jenga game. She nearly walked straight through the barn wall and into a decorative trough. She walked straight past the cake without grabbing a slice. 

Kara Zor El was on a mission.

And that mission was less than ten feet away, laughing and radiating like the sun rose and shone only for her. Her nose scrunched as the smile spread wider when Kara approached. It faded only slightly when the palpable look of fear on Kara’s face was noticed.

“Kara? Is everything ok?” she asked, stepping away from the group and brushing a reassuring thumb over Kara’s arm.

They stepped more steps until the steps led them to crickets and tree frogs and only the white noise of people. And ever the Pulitzer winning wordsmith, these were the words that managed to trip out of her mouth:

“I want to be your Orpheus.”

Lena’s mouth parted and eyes narrowed. “You… what?”

“I want to… shoot, no I mean…”

“You want to trap me in hell?” Lena asked. And bless the straight face she was trying to keep, but between Kara’s fish mouthing and absolutely butchering of whatever heartfelt words she had hoped would appear out of thin air, Lena’s face was doing some serious gymnastics to keep from smirking.

“He didn’t fail! He… he…”

Straws. Those were the things Kara was grasping for. Humiliatingly limp, paper straws.

“I want to fight off souls and ghouls and fools for you. I want the chance. I want you and the world to know that you are the person I’d move heaven and hell for you, because you make me feel whole. You make me feel seen and wanted and loved and I just… I just want you. And I don’t know why it’s taken me so long to realize it but I-”

Lips.

Soft lips.

Soft lips and deep sighs and the flutter of long dark hair tickling her cheeks.

And then a sigh.

And then a ‘wowzers’.

And then a laugh.

And then again.

- - - - -

ask game

[summerhuntresses]

the good man scorns

[ao3]

Same song, same dance, same smile and laughter and graceful wave everywhere she went. The bubble was beginning to feel like it was the only real thing in her life.

OR,

A glance into the mindset of a grieving good witch, during the celebration of a wicked witch's death.

~~~

No one mourns the wicked, indeed.

Same song, same dance, same smile and laughter and graceful wave everywhere she went. The bubble was beginning to feel like it was the only real thing in her life, buoying her from dream to dream as she spread the news of Elph- of the Witch’s death. It really was all starting to blur together, the faces of her fellow Ozians upturned to her so eagerly as they waited to hear the news she brought.

She could tell them anything, really. Part of her wanted to, just to see how long it would take before they realized she was lying. Would they realize the lie? The Wizard had been a terrible person, and Morrible worse yet, but they had been effective in their work. Oz had never been more docile, its communities less willing to think for themselves. El- The Witch had tried, flitting from town to village to sanctuary with her message of hope and truth and revolution, but she had been one person fighting an uphill battle against the tireless propaganda machine of the Emerald City. There had never been a chance.

There had never been a chance and Glinda had told her, said exactly that in the clock tower all those years ago. Oz, even the Wizard had told her! But no, Elpha- the Witch had had her morals, would never have aligned with the Wizard after he had revealed his deceit to her, even just for a short time. She would rather have martyred herself on the altar of her own resolve, uncompromising to the end.

Well, Glinda hopes she was happy when she died. She hopes she was happy as she burned, hopes that she found peace in the knowledge that she never betrayed her principles even as the whole world aligned itself against her. Glinda hopes her willful, stubborn shortsightedness brought her utter fucking bliss in the end, when she died alone and in agony with the entirety of Oz united in hatred against her and her cause.

Glancing down at the crowd clamoring beneath her, Glinda had to suppress a laugh that she knew would have come out far, far too jagged to be appropriate for the celebrations. The thought that any of the shamelessly naive Munchkinlanders dancing in the square would have the slightest idea of what it was the Witch had been doing was funny. She knew good and well that some of the people below her had known Elpha-

She breathed.

Some of the people below her had more than likely known Elphaba as a child, had been the ones who hurt her so badly she had come to Shiz with walls like a fortress insulating her from the world. It hadn’t mattered. It didn’t stop them from turning on her, condemning her, hating her. 

Was it you, she wondered. A handsome young Munchkin twirled a pregnant woman, laughing as they stepped on a ripped wanted poster. Were you the ones who threw stones at a child who had never done anything but want to be loved? A group of washerwomen chattered as they worked, dipping their hands into troughs stamped with instructions on precisely how to kill the Witch. Would you even remember if it was?

No, it hadn’t mattered a single bit. Once the Wizard told them to hate, they hated. Once Morrible told them to fear, they feared. Once Glinda the Good told them to celebrate, they laughed and cheered and danced like children.

She looked down at the sea of faces before her, men and women and children blending together until all she saw was a single being, one soul in many bodies that reached and grasped and pawed at her, desperate to be spoon-fed the honey-sweet cocktail of lies and fear and twisted truth that they had been gobbling up for years while saying ‘thank you’ and asking for more, please, always more.

Pain shot through her jaw where she had clenched her teeth, biting down on nothing as she forced herself to keep smiling. They were dragging something into the square- an effigy, she felt herself realize. A straw mockery of Elphaba, forty feet tall and adorned with the hat she had given her on the day Glinda had been seeing in her dreams for the last ten years. It took her a moment to see the sign hanging from her- from its neck, hateful words stark and black before her eyes. 

Kill the witch.

Well, Glinda mused, it’s a bit late for that.

There was a heavy, pounding pressure rising behind her eyes, fury and grief and despair blending together and urging her to do something that she knew she would regret. It felt a bit like one of Elphaba’s flying monkeys was trying to claw its way out from beneath her ribcage, claws rending and horrifying fangs tearing her delicate insides to shreds. It wouldn’t surprise her if she opened her mouth and blood came spraying out, mixing with the scream she had been holding in since that day at Kiamo Ko.

She kept smiling. A child gave her a flower to toss. She shook the hand of a young mother. The effigy rolled closer.

There was a kind of absentminded regret she was feeling, she realized, that she was so clearheaded in this moment. She spared a moment to wish that she could dissociate on command, could astral project, could use the Grimmerie to cast a single fucking spell that would help her not feel what was coming.

The effigy rolled closer. A man handed her a torch with a bow. Glinda felt white heat roll up through her bones and squeeze the air from her lungs, felt the insane urge to drop the torch and ram the pointed end of her wand into his eye, felt her knuckles go white.

She smiled, and threw the torch on the pyre.

Oh, she realized. I hate them.

She turned away, never letting her smile drop. Her entire body ached from how stiffly she held herself, but she could not make her muscles relax. She was still smiling, could feel the strain in her face, could see the Munchkinlanders light up with pride and joy and relief when they met her eyes.

It had been long enough, surely. The effigy would burn for hours and she had more stops to make on her impromptu tour of Oz. Much to do, she thought absently. The Palace alone would be hell to get under control, between rooting out Morrible’s spies and disbanding the Gale Force and squashing any residual Wizard sympathizers. She couldn’t spend her entire day standing in a backwater Munchkin village as they cheered the death of her- the death of the Witch.

As she stepped back into her chariot, hitting the button to form her bubble, she felt a faint shimmer of relief. Her younger self would laugh, she was sure, if told that one day she would become the most beloved ruler Oz had ever seen but would crave nothing more than solitude. 

Movement caught her eye, a young woman pushing her way to the front of the crowd. Glinda managed not to sigh, popping the bubble again. She had been so close to escaping these people, so close to blessed solitude away from- No, she cut herself off. Too far.

“Is it true you were her friend?” 

Glinda felt the air leave her lungs in a rush, the words landing like a sledgehammer.

The woman asked the question loudly, not shouting but projecting in a slow and measured way, obviously intending for the entire crowd to hear her clearly. The disgust in her tone was masked but still present, anger clear in her stance and the set of her jaw. A wave of gasps and horrified mutters swept through the crowd, people who had just minutes ago been laughing and smiling and bowing over her hand now staring judgmentally and with the stirrings of fear in their eyes.

“Friend?” Her voice was faint, memories rushing through her mind like a flood. Facing off in the courtyard. Dancing at the Ozdust. Running through the halls of Shiz. Lying in their shared room. Kissing on the train. Passing notes in class. Hand in hand, always hand in hand, attached at the hip, two parts of one whole- until they weren’t. Until that horrible, awful, nightmarish day where Elphaba had flown off the handle and flown off into the sky and left her behind because she was too stubborn, too moralistic, too good to stay.

Because Glinda was too cowardly, too selfish, too wicked to stay for.

“Friend.” She said the word slowly, tasting every letter as it left her lips. “No, not her friend.” The crowd breathed a sigh of relief, a single organism before her once more. The woman frowned, her mouth opening to say something else that Glinda didn’t care about. She continued, “They haven’t invented the words to describe what she was to me.”

She died for you, she thought but didn’t say. She died trying to save you and you burned her at the stake. 

The Munchkins were in an uproar but Glinda had no interest in soothing their feelings. Enough was enough. 

She tapped the button by her feet once more, sighing in relief as the bubble sprang into place and muted the furious clamor of the square. There were still six more stops on her tour, but she could get to them the next day. It was only an hour back to the Emerald City, and she was quite looking forward to taking a bath by herself and escaping the bleating of the sheep.

[ma1dita]

not your goddess

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader words: 8k holy shit this is the longest fic for this series so far summary: (established relationship (uhhhh, well…)) The one where you both know the best of days eventually have to come to an end. Change in perspective is always good, but it makes you and Luke see your futures quite differently—you wonder if you’ll be together in it at all. (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader) a/n: mmmyeah this is a songfic - goddess by laufey. references to waiting for godot by samuel beckett if you squint

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[ it always goes like this, could've predicted it || i'm so naïve to think you loved me for me, kissed as I ran off stage || you're too old to play this game, guess you're still growing up at thirty nineteen]

Once you open yourself up to someone and bare your soul to them in honesty, they get a choice whether they want to be with you or not. It’s as simple and as convoluted as that. Normal humans are complex as it is—but to be a demigod must mean to endure all of that and then some. Luke has been especially hard to reach lately, and trying to understand him feels like grappling wisps of smoke. You let him build his whole life around you without either of you realizing and suddenly the walls feel like they’re closing in. Though maybe he always knew that—Luke Castellan is always intentional, and always full of surprises. 

“We should run away from here.”

His voice breaks through the crunching of dead leaves underfoot on your trek to the stables. It’s hard to tell if he’s joking, even harder to decipher when your eyes meet in the dim light hanging above the Dutch doors that you walk through. 

The two of you move as if partners in an orchestrated dance, the steps routine and not needing instruction; you fill up the water troughs and he steps around you to grab the bag of feed while his other hand grazes your waist, beckoning you to the next task. Most days are like this now, plotted out perfectly from sunrise to sunset. 

To be content means that most of it is predictable, and some might call it boring, but it comes with the inner satisfaction that what the both of you share is only yours. 

It’s peaceful.

Neither of you has ever really had that—and in your own way, both of you want to hold onto it for as long as you have it. Like how comets are always predictable; the knowing doesn’t make them any less beautiful.

“Let’s go now then,” you chuckle lightly, not looking at him as you shut off the hose. Bowie, your pegasus, brays in thanks as he dunks his muzzle into the trough, splashing water at your ankles. The water is frigid, a chill crawling up your spine and when you look up, Luke’s already staring at you solemnly, almost blending in with the shadows that drape over the barn. He stands there leaning against the wooden fence with his sharp, stone-faced features carved out by moonlight.

“Baby?” 

Eyebrows furrowing, you take a step towards him and he’s eerily still, holding a hand out for you. His fingers don’t shake once you intertwine them with your own and he’s so sure of himself that his resolve is like a suit of armor. What a funny thought—him needing protection from you of all people, the girl he lays bare with most nights and who knows him at his most vulnerable. 

“What do you think? Do I look like I’m joking?”

Luke’s words creak like metal hinges—coming off abrasive at the sight of your resistant expression. Truthfully, he hates it when you look at him like this—like there’s something wrong about him that you’re convinced you can fix. You don’t do it on purpose, but he’d like to think that you don’t think of him as one of your little DIY projects. This is different, calculated—his plans for the both of you will map out the rest of your future.

“Are…are you planning to leave?”

Though you hate to make the comparison, he’s a lot like his father: a one-track mind with only him knowing what’s coming next. Luke just expects everyone else to keep up, and you’re left feeling like someone’s pulled the rug out from under you as he holds onto your wrists firmly in the dim light. He’s nervous, even if he doesn’t show it. You can still tell by the way his voice cracks, a melancholy sound like he’s pleading for you to understand a hidden meaning you must’ve missed in the past few months of bliss.

 “We are,” he corrects, before his voice begins to falter, “I mean we can. We…we should,” he says tentatively, and your arms jerk forward with the motion as you stumble into his grasp, “Think of it, babe. We could get out of here and do something great. Make a life for ourselves.”

You squint.

He’s not even asking, and that makes it worse, you think—it’s like he’s already got one foot out the door. You’re not sure if he even considered you possibly saying no.

Are you?

Entertaining frivolous conversations that your boyfriend has with you before bed is one thing—but acting on them? The truth is that you’ve never afforded yourself a future outside of the reality that you have now. You never thought you’d have this after everything—running across the country to find your father and make this family in nowhere New York. It wasn’t a possibility that your 14-year-old self would’ve ever dreamed of. 

But then it happened, and you count your lucky stars that it led you to Luke. This is your home; you built it from the ground up with him the day you both stepped into your roles and washed your hands of stupid pranks. And maybe what you’ve always dreamt of is something you already have now.

Is that a crime? To like your reality better because it’s tangible—not everyone needs to be the main character in a sweeping saga. You do have a life, and you’d like to say it’s pretty alright, all things considered.

“Luke,” you swallow, face scrunching up in the way it does when he knows you’re about to say no, “I mean what about our responsibilities? What about…”

It was cute back when you were fourteen, but he now finds that he hates the way your nose scrunches up when you disagree with something, and it always makes him feel stupid for even asking in the first place. Luke steps away, dropping your hands as he sighs gruffly, “That’s a shit excuse, you know that, babe.” Dust kicks up from under his feet and you think he looks like a child about to throw a tantrum. The pegasi whinny softly behind you, and if they could talk it would probably be something like, Oh shit. Like a flip of a switch, he’s erratic, something pent up inside of him is now uncontrolled.

“I mean what do you want me to say, Luke? You want us to leave? Just disappear and leave Annie and Grover… and my brothers? What then? We don’t have money or degrees, or anywhere to go to—”

“We could make do—I mean we’ve both done it before Trouble, and now we can be together without all this. We don’t need camp. Or the gods’ blessings, I mean what did they ever do for us?” 

He’s tired, you think—because the Luke standing in front of you right now isn’t anything like the one you know. Your Luke loves your campers as much as you do; he’s the type that gives piggyback rides and teaches the little ones how to swim in Canoe Lake. He prays at every mealtime—twice as long because you don’t see the point in it, and likes to fall asleep against your chest in the twinkly lights of cabin 12.

The Luke you know would never want to run away from the home you’ve both created for yourselves. Not without a proper plan. Luke always says that he loves making plans just as much as he loves you, which must mean a lot.

You already have what you want, for now. That’s the contingency of it—for now. You just don’t see it getting better than this; finding camp meant finding yourself, and that’s what your mother always wanted for you. Having a real shot of being a family, even if your dad drives you nuts, and the twins like to fill the bathtub with root beer, and Annie constantly demanding she prove that she knows the first 500 digits of pi comes with the path you chose. 

Family—it’s what you were promised.

“We’re not ready, Luke. I mean… the real world out there is a lot worse than getting a C in archery or avoiding bathroom duty. We’ve still got some growing up to do—what’s the rush?”

He’s testy now—jaw swinging the crick in his neck and he does this when he’s about to say something mean, like the words have to fight their way out of his mouth, “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

Luke watches you look cluelessly at him like nothing he’s saying is making sense and it’s so frustrating that it makes his head hurt. What happened to you—his free-spirited girl who would follow wherever he leads? You don’t know how crucial this all is—Luke needs to know…

He needs to know if you’ll still follow him wherever he goes, even if it’s away from everything you have here.

But maybe you both imagined growing old together quite differently then.

“You’re making it sound like I’m in over my head about this when I know you don’t like it here. Listen to what I’m trying to tell you,” he bristles, hand leaning over the wooden beam above your head, “This place is getting old. We’re getting old. I want everything with you. Can’t you see that?” It feels like he’s caging you in, and he makes it sound so simple that it makes you laugh.

“Of course I do. All I’m saying is we should think this through more. I mean…We’re demigods. I’m not saying we can’t handle it and I’m not saying no, but—”, you barely finish the sentence before Luke interrupts you again. 

The difficulty with Luke is that when he wants something, he wants it with his entire being. And he never goes down without a fight—even when its with you.

“But you’re not saying yes. Then what are you saying? That you wouldn’t be happy with me?”

Rolling your eyes, you swing yourself out from under his arm and start taking off your apron because clearly, work is not on the agenda tonight. You fling it onto the hook before spinning around to look at him.

“Stop putting words in my mouth. I am happy with you. Here. Where it’s safe. Where we have beds to sleep in and food to eat and the only real reason I have to look over my shoulder is to see if my dad’s bribing your siblings to sneak him alcohol,” you say half-jokingly, and it so badly misses the mark as you see his brows furrow deeper into his forehead. 

“Give me a break,” he seethes, your name rolling out of his lips like acid and he has more to say but doesn’t know if he should. But he’s already started something and you’re just waiting for him to finish it. He has a habit of doing this, rolling the words around in his mouth for dramatic effect. 

This is gonna hurt.

“Oh just spit it out, Luke. Don’t whine like a baby.”

“Your dad? He’s a fucking joke. Can’t stand him half the time and I don’t know how you do,” he starts, pacing around you like a boxer in a ring. You stand still as a statue, eyes lit and tracking him in the dark as he continues, “You know I’m right. He’s just keeping you busy because now that he has you, he wants to control you. And you don’t even get a pat on the back.”

“You do not wanna go there, I can promise you that.”

“Well, I am. Because I’m tired of watching you waste your potential. You used to be so…exciting,” His arms swing around him like feathered wings and Luke shakes his head, turning away from you to look at the moon, “I need you to care about our future too, okay? Cut the shit and be a real fucking person for once and not whatever this little puppet show you put on for your dad is because it drives me crazy sometimes. All the time. I’m losing it, Trouble. Can’t you tell?”

It feels like a blow to the chest and you take a deep breath to placate your feelings in case they’re tampering with his—and you find that the anger is all his own. Your words shoot out like a lit cannon in rebuttal, “This drives you crazy? I didn’t know it was so hard on you, Luke. Poor you, picking up after me when you literally offer to help,” you scoff, stomping over to get him to look at you since he’s so intent on having this conversation, “Do you think you get granted immortality for checking off campers on your attendance log?” He can’t have thought it would be that easy, can’t have imagined you wouldn’t get defensive when things don’t go your way. Because it’s been like that for a while now, and Luke’s been falling off pace with life here. He’s not the all-star golden boy he used to be. Deep down, you know that too; he only likes it here because you do. They say with anything the first year is the hardest—and although he wouldn’t change a thing with your relationship, this took work. Loving you was supposed to be his reward, and it’s as if he doesn’t know you anymore. 

He’s not sure he knows himself that well anymore either.

“Of course not! That’s exactly what I’m saying—all of this won’t help us, so why are we exhausting ourselves instead of focusing on what’s important?” He runs his hands through his hair, tugging at the curls to anchor himself to this argument. And now you just want to strike back, to be damned with the consequences. Real love is a mirror, and although it's your first big fight…sometimes it hurts to be seen better than how you see yourself, and it hurts less to inflict it upon someone else instead of admitting that it hurts you.

“Oh so I’m exhausting to be with, is that it?”

He rips his apron off and tosses it at you, “Yes. Is that what you want me to say? You want a bad guy, you’ll get one. I don’t know what to—” His anger has always brewed like a storm—quiet and rumbling under the surface until he’s ready to strike. It comes down all at once and you’re covered in it with no way out but through. You bat the fabric to the ground angrily.

“You wanna repeat that?”

He laughs, a mocking, snarling sound, “You know what, it makes sense now—you’re just like your father. It all tracks!”

Your jaw tightens, pushing through by giving him another chance, testing him. Daring him.

“You wanna say that again?”

The wind picks up at his feet as he spins around you so fast it almost gives you whiplash, “Don’t give me that bullshit.” He’s tired and angry, but you’ve never seen this other side of him before—this ferocity that was unleashed at the idea of you wanting something he might not. Maybe you both are too similar then, too stubborn to give in until someone breaks.

“Don’t talk to me like that, Castellan. I’m warning you. Just because your dad hates you doesn’t mean that mine does.”

He laughs. 

Luke laughs like you’ve just told him you’ve put Chiron in another dress and that pigs can fly but then he looks at you… He looks at you with his chestnut brown eyes and they’re just empty, boring deep into your soul.

“What happened to you?”

It’s a weird feeling, to know someone so well that you can see the other side of them they can’t see for themselves. You haven’t got a single clue.

“I grew up. You were there, Luke. You helped me do it. I wanted to be just like you—the role model, the one that people like, and what, now that I'm not just some crazy idea in your head you’re bored?” 

Your voice cracks and so does a piece of Luke’s heart. You’re too tenderhearted, too good for him, and everything about you sends shockwaves through his being. This is what he told Kronos—even if you had it in you to force the gods to kneel and listen, would you be able to make the jump? Luke blinks, tuning back into your words.

“I mean you’re not even asking. It seems like you’ve made your decision for us. What does that mean to you? Us?”

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, clearing his throat. His apology feels heavier than it should, and you can’t figure out why. He won’t let you find out if he even means it. 

“No, you’re not. You don’t even know what you’re sorry for, and now as soon as we’re happy, you get bored. You wanna talk about fathers, you’re just like yours too. Happy?” 

The words come out almost explosive, a shot in the dark and you didn’t think you’d say it, but you did. Thoughtless, without care, until it sinks into him like a sharp blade. Luke’s face hardens and you’re not sure how long he’s been standing so far away.

“Are we?”

It’s almost lights out and you’re still here arguing with Luke, so today was not as predictable as you thought it would be. Unease grips you by the scrap of your neck like a merciless kitten, holding on for dear life. This isn’t a feeling you should associate with the love of your life.

“What did you say?”

“Like you said, we’re demigods,” he says whispering your name, “what do we do now that we’re happy? That usually means something worse is coming up ahead.” Luke scoffs, half in disbelief at his own realization, the other half in defeat, “We’re meant for more than just being happy—that…this isn’t enough. We’re meant for glory, not shoveling pegasi shit and taking care of children instead of planning for a future with our own. This shouldn’t be the end of us.”

Your lip quivers, tongue in cheek and you need to touch something, hold someone, to remind yourself that this is happening. But you don’t reach out to him because if you get too close he’ll see the tears in your eyes. Grabbing the dandy brush, you trudge over to Bowie and rake it through his hair, mumbling, “I’m happy. I’ve got you,” you swallow, turning to Luke, “I love you.”

He’s already in the doorway, swinging the bottom panel closed with his hip as he looks over his shoulder, frowning.

“Is that all you’ve got?”

Bowie brays next to you and it sounds like someone blowing a raspberry when they’re tired of a situation—maybe you are going crazy and they do understand—but one thing you do know is that you can’t understand Luke right now. 

The truth is that love is a bunch of horseshit, really.

[ oh, were you surprised by me when you took me home? || When the glamour wore off, reduced to skin and bone || i can't even tell who you want to know || i'm a goddess on stage, human when we're alone]

Your knees hit the dirt again, falling forward onto your hands as you dry heave. In the blink of an eye, you feel Maimer resting against the apex of your neck.

“Yield.”

Clarisse La Rue has barely broken a sweat during this spar, and yet here you are at her feet feeling like today’s breakfast will make a reappearance on the arena floor. The younger girl rolls her eyes as she pulls you up by the leather strap of your chest plate, sighing at the unnatural pallor of your skin as she flops onto a bench with your dead weight following suit as your knees buckle.

“You know, I knew you said you were bad at this, but are you even trying?” she scoffs, throwing a water bottle at you that you fumble in your hands. Winning never feels as good when the other person isn’t putting up a fight. You gulp down the icy refreshment, shutting your eyes for a moment to escape the blinding sun as you mutter, “Never been a fighter unless necessary, Risse. That’s all you.”

“Alright, enough of this.”

Your eyes wrench open as you lean back on your forearms to look at the daughter of Ares. At thirteen, she’s a force of nature on her own and unlike anyone else at camp, Clarisse would never mince her words for the sake of others’ feelings. You needed someone to tell it to you straight.

“You know everyone can tell when you and Luke fight, right? I mean it rarely happens but when it does it always feels like the world is out of balance until you both fix it.”

You groan, throwing your arm over your face and unintentionally hiding from her. That couldn’t be true—the world does not revolve around whether or not a daughter of Dionysus and a son of Hermes had their shit together.

But Camp Half-Blood does.

“You’re lying, La Rue. It’s really not that deep.”

And then she looks at you like you’re stupid, which might be her customary expression for anyone else but to you—well, she at least respects you. For now, unless you keep whining like a badly written love interest.

“Gods, woman. You were so much cooler back then, what the hell happened to you?”

“Clarisse, it isn’t that easy—-” you grumble, putting your face in your hands as you stare at the dirt. Of course, you know that everyone knows, secrets run through Camp Half-Blood like running water. It slips through your fingers easily, soaking through the ground until everyone’s stuck in the mud. Your boots sink slightly into the softening earth and Clarisse realizes you’re crying before you do. 

Why the fuck are you crying? 

It was a stupid argument and it probably doesn’t mean anything but for once, you don’t know what to do. It feels stupid that your body decided to cry before your brain could come to the conclusion. This all feels so stupid.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to make you cry, weirdo,” she mumbles, unsure of what to do with a crying head counselor. Her calloused hands rub small circles into your back, and she can’t help but think you need more girlfriends your age. Scooting closer to you, she says, “What I meant was that you were way cooler when you didn’t give a shit about what people think about you, much less Luke Castellan. You’re starting to sound like you’re from 10, and I swear Sil is the only tolerable person from that cabin. Stop crying, please…”

You sniff, “Ugh… This is so dumb. Just lost myself for a second.” The statement rings true, and it bothers you more than you thought it would. There is so much more to you than playing the part of the agreeable girlfriend, the caretaker, the perfect daughter, that if you stared at yourself in the mirror you might not recognize who’s staring back. So many parts to play, and so little of you left.

“I guess, what I’m trying to say is,” Clarisse sighs, “and I’m no good at this feelings shit, but I think you need to remember that you’re allowed to be someone without him…without all of this. And you owe it to yourself to find out who that is.” You look up at her with watery eyes, tucking hair behind your ear as if it’ll help you absorb her words better. 

You can’t believe you’re getting sound advice from a thirteen-year-old, much less a child of Ares on matters of love. 

“It’s nice to be needed,” you mumble, “my greatest honor, I think. But it might also be my downfall.” 

Clarisse smiles crookedly like she’s watching you through a fresh set of eyes. There’ll be no words of this conversation once you leave the arena—the both of you have a friendship unlike most girls here at camp. Never touchy-feely, typical girl talk, but always what you need to hear. 

“How terrifyingly human of you. Yuck.”

“I can’t go on like this,” you groan, slumping further into your folded-over position and she sighs, going to take a sip from her water bottle before squeezing your shoulder.

“That’s what you think.”

[ you took a star to bed, woke up with me instеad || you must have felt so damn decеived when you made up a version of me that you thought you loved || but I am not your Aphrodite ]

When you were fifteen years old and he was just a month shy of it, you had somehow convinced Luke Castellan to run away from camp with you. 

This was back then. Just for a day—just for the tiniest taste of freedom. 

Luke had been at camp for almost a year, and Rye Playland sounded so much cooler than food service with the nymphs—which is one of the few things he would agree with you on. The both of you had kitchen duty for two weeks after getting caught attacking each other during Capture the Flag despite being on the same team, and it ended up with you ripping the fabric off the stick and chucking it into the middle of Canoe Lake. He’s lucky you didn’t lunge for his head, but the game was forfeit, and cabin 6 didn’t talk to you two for weeks because you threw the game. Including Annie, which was a surprising feat in itself.

After that day, you swore to never do anything Luke made himself in charge of and Chiron swore you two would never be on the same team again. You could remember D’s voice that day and how it boomed through the Big House, reminiscent of his father—a crackle of fury and impalpable seriousness that had Luke shaking slack-jawed in the chairs facing the mahogany desk. He’d never been told off by a parent before, much less an Olympian.

Taking it in stride even as the god threatened to turn you both into dolphins, you mimed the conversation when your father’s back turned, copying the odd quirk in D’s brow and conjuring a mouthful of grapes for teeth. You grinned at the son of Hermes like an idiot, a singular ripe sphere shooting out to make an audible thwack against D’s red Hawaiian shirt that made Luke laugh the loudest, ugliest guffaw you’ve ever heard him let out. He choked on his spit when the god jerked his head back to face the both of you like a comic-book villain.

Honestly, he might’ve peed himself a little. Just a tiny bit.

And the god of insanity himself was at his wits’ end—which is rare for him, very few things can get him to that point. Even less so with people. Pathetic, puny, little people he can drive to madness and violent death. 

But not his baby girl—you know every last nerve to step on, a lot like your mother sure, but still all him in every way it mattered. He loved it, even when he was mad at you like this. He just wasn’t good at showing it, and you knew that to some extent. Plus, you can’t take a man in a Hawaiian shirt seriously, much less a god.

So you and your self-proclaimed archnemesis (frenemy, Luke insists) find yourselves running down Farm Road before first light, leaving nothing but a trail of dust behind you as you rush to catch the LIRR at a stop two towns over.

It was a small amusement park filled with different money-grabbing oddities, tooth-rotting confections, and rickety, squeaking rides that the conductors could fold into suitcases at the end of the day.

Sketchy, but so much fun. You made Luke go on all the kiddie rides with you and screamed your head off like a lunatic; he apologized to the parents of a toddler and said you had too much sugar—but that was a lie, this was all you in your natural state. Berry chapstick, wind-tousled hair, and a smile brighter than a spotlight. And your laughter, oh, your laughter shook the walls of the funhouse even after you crashed into the fifth mirror being too busy poking fun at the wonder in Luke’s eyes because it was the first time he’s genuinely done something for fun and not out of necessity. It was nice, and so were you, for once.

It was the first time you’d let your guard down for him, he thinks back—watching you toss a ball so badly off target from milk bottles set across the booth. You twisted in his grasp (he doesn’t remember getting so close, Luke still swears he was trying to help you aim) pouting at him with those pretty plum eyes and he sighed so deeply you smelled the cotton candy on his breath. For a moment you wondered if he tasted like it too—and then the worker asked if you’ll be trying again and you went, “Hmm? Maybe he’d be better at it!”

Luke rigged the shot with the snap of his finger, all the milk bottles falling to the ground with a crash and he swore on his life he’d sell out every single one of these stupid games if it gets you to bite your lip at him like that again.

There isn’t a single hint of regret that passed that entire day—you were already in trouble, so you both figured that you might as well enjoy it. By late afternoon, your legs felt like jelly and it felt less like you dragging him around the fairgrounds and more like holding onto him for support (because there’d be no other reason you’d want to hold his hand, your stomach just felt funny…that’s all!) Luke was wolfing down a funnel cake, the powdered sugar dust getting all over his shirt and he looked up to see you staring at him with a shit-eating grin.

Hand pointed in the air, Luke simply shakes his head.

“Fuck no.”

But you always had a way of convincing him to do things (Luke is a sucker susceptible to double dog dares) and the both of you are surprised he let you because sooner rather than later, you’re sat knee to knee in a tiny, screeching Ferris wheel cart that inched 100 feet into the sky. The white paint was peeling at his fingertips and the air was warm—Luke tried to focus on that instead of the fact that he was in a metal death chamber in the sky.

“Never imagined a son of Hermes would be scared of heights,” you grinned, nudging him with your foot. You’ve folded into yourself, hugging your knees as you looked at him and he thought that he might be having a heart attack at the ripe age of fourteen and three-quarters. But the pink and purple rays of the waning sun framed you so nicely that he wished he brought a camera—he had the silly photobooth strips from earlier tucked into his pocket, but you looking like that; Luke had etched it into his memory for safekeeping. Not only was he able to breathe a bit easier, but if there was a memory he could materialize from today—it’d be you grinning maniacally through the bars of the cart, pointing at the city in the distance. 

“We’ve finally found something you’re not good at, golden boy,” you grinned, tilting your head to the side and inspecting him like he was a sad hamster in a glass ball.

“M’not scared of heights, I'm just scared of falling,” he reasoned, looking at the rusted floor. You were making your boots dance along to the beat of the fair music, tapping along to the cyclical rhythm. He was more scared of the lack of control he had at this moment—any of the other crazy rides, Luke had stood at the tiny gate next to the conductor holding the plush avocado he won for you, watching and hearing you scream for joy as the machines flung you into the air. The ones he did go on were relatively tamer, and by the third kiddie coaster, he realized that you probably whooped for joy just to make him feel better.

You kissed him on the cheek that day, so close to his mouth (but not close enough) when the Ferris wheel ultimately screeched to a stop. A necessary distraction, you said—but you weren’t sure for who. He tasted sugar-sweet and smelled like the late summer sun. You had never kissed a boy before, unsure if you’d even know how, or if Luke would even want to if you did.

The thought passed when you realized his fingers were clenched and white-tipped onto the guardrails and you…you’re terrible, so you started rocking back and forth, giggling until he yelled at you to stop, pulling you into his lap. 

The conductor thought you two were doing something way less innocent, and you both got kicked out of Rye Playland afterward—but you got your money’s worth.

Well, you both snuck in and Luke definitely pickpocketed someone’s mom.

All in all, it was a great day.

You fell asleep on his shoulder on the way back home, the Long Island Railroad car chilly with the AC. Watching you drool, he thought he might even like traveling again if it’s for fun like this, might even hate his dad less too. Luke threw his whole dinner into the hearth that night with a bright smile on his face even after Mr. D yelled at the both of you in front of everyone at the dining pavilion. After all, the only factor in his life that’s changed in the past year, an addition, if you must— was you.

[ you took me for a fool, you stole my youth, you wanted this so much || you watched me rise then killed my light || and now you know I'm not your fucking goddess ||  oh, i'm no goddess when i'm alone ]

Work is work.

That’s what you’ve both been telling yourselves throughout an already rough week gone even worse, but trying to avoid your significant other is an especially difficult task when you work together. 

It’s the simple truth—you can’t ignore someone you have to talk to primarily because of these two factors: 1. Capture the Flag teams need to be sorted by Thursday mornings to be ready to play on Friday afternoons, and 2. it is weird for campers to see you two not interacting with each other.

Well, it’s Friday now, and you and Luke haven’t talked since that argument in the barn. 

Kind of, but the times you have didn’t count—the past few days have been both of you talking around other people; not directly to each other. Last night at dinner, Chris stared at you like one does when their parents are thinking of getting a divorce, eyes flickering between you two and his cheeseburger. Luke was sitting next to you on the bench blankly picking the tomatoes off his sandwich and you were staring glumly at your slice of pizza.

“Is there something going on between you two?”

He was one of the few brave enough to be blunt about it. You and Luke were all-consuming, like a black hole. It’s hard for others not to notice the gravitational pull, but when it’s bad…. everyone and everything gets sucked in, whether they like it or not. 

“Lee was excited to hear that your cabin is teaming up with them tomorrow. It’ll be quite interesting, all of you with 7 and 9,” you said, wiping grease off the slice with a napkin. Luke’s head jerked in your direction at your words, “Dude what—Chris! I thought I signed off on working with 6? We don’t work with Apollo for a reason,” he hissed, leaning over the table towards his brother. Chris scratched the back of his neck, knowing Luke was right. Cabin 7 isn’t that good in all matters that involve stealth—the last time they worked with them, Austin was scatting under his breath and it got them ambushed by the red team. Opening his mouth to speak, you quickly interjected, “Well it’s about time to change it up—keeps things exciting, don’t you think, Chris?”

Luke sighed, redirecting his brother’s focus to him, “What do you think, man? I just think when it comes to battle strategies we should stick to what works.” Chris swallowed, raising his hand in the air; he was grappling at the edge of a cliff just trying to hold on to either of you—he looked around to see if there was a way out of this. Next to him, Ethan averted his eyes and played with his carrot sticks.

“Funny how that works for battle strategies and not other things,” you hummed around a mouthful of pizza, “Don’t you think, Chris? I just think that you never want to be predictable in these things. It makes everything boring. Or so I’ve heard,” you munched thoughtfully, daring the son of Hermes to break eye contact with you as Luke scoffed, tossing his napkin onto his plate before standing up. He walked off without a second glance, throwing everything into the hearth—plastic tray included, and stormed off toward the cabins. The rest of the table minded their business, shoveling food into their mouths. Chris choked on a french fry.

And you smirked, satisfied at the small win. 

But now, almost a day later tramping through the sodden dirt of the North Woods in heavy body armor, you remind yourself that it is so very hard to prove a point to Luke Castellan. He finds you halfway through the game as you hold onto the red flag post, standing tall at the vantage point and looking like a stone grotesque protecting the area you’re surveying. By the time you notice, a blur of cobalt whizzes towards you—knocking out the three Ares kids standing guard around the perimeter. You gasp, raising a hand sending vines hurtling toward the air until you see him hanging upside down by the ankles, wrapped in green leaves and purple bunches of grapes. Luke’s headwear falls to the earth with a clang.

“I’m not here for the flag!”

You rush over, dropping the pole and sighing, “Luke…you scared me! I thought you were with Beck today.” The blood rushes to his head as he looks at you all out of focus. Seeing you the other way around gives him a new perspective on things—the epiphany almost makes him ache, but that might also be the pressure pooling in his forehead. You brush your thumb against his cheek before letting him down slowly, and all he does is look at you.

“We need to talk.”

“Like, actually this time?” you mumble, hugging yourself as you watch the vines unravel from his limbs and sink back into the ground. You’ve always been a good actress and Luke was the best liar around—this shared penchant for fabricating the truth used to make you one and the same.

It is more obvious now that actors and liars are wholly different; actors live in an imaginary world given to them, while liars strive to create it for themselves. There’s that saying—don’t hate the player, hate the game.

Luke finds that he’s starting to hate all of it.

“Yeah,” he mutters, “we can’t keep ignoring this, Trouble.” It takes a special kind of sadness to feel lonely even when you’re with someone. You bite the inside of your cheek, feeling your spirit sink into the ground below you, almost resigning yourself to what will happen next. All the petty backtalk, the times you’ve crawled into bed with him already pretending to be asleep— it all comes down to this. There’s this French word that Annie had taught you a few days ago when you spent extra time snuggled up in her bunk, partially to catch up with your favorite girl and partially… to waste more time before going home to him. 

Énouement—-The bittersweetness of having arrived in the future and seeing how things turn out, but not being able to tell your past self.

“Luke…” you start, watching him sheath Backbiter with a casual flick of his hand, “Would you go back if you could? Before…” Barely able to string your words together, he notices your lip quivering, “Did you like me more back then?”

“Baby…” he sighs, going to wrap his arms around you and you hold onto him in return at arm's length.

“I’m really trying…” you choke out, pressing your lips to hold in the onslaught of things you want to say. To understand? To apologize? The words die out on your tongue.

“I know. You’re always trying, Trouble. That might just be the saddest part.”

Wind whirls through your hair, pushing you against him for shelter as you gather your thoughts. In the silence of the woods, you wonder how many moments you’ve spent drawn to him like this for comfort. Luke’s always there for you, whether you like it or not. For better or worse—you wonder if there won’t be a lot of chances to hold and be held, and you can’t seem to let go.

“I didn’t change, okay? I’m still me. People don’t change, just like the gods don’t. I just don’t see us away from this,” you swallow, tracing a finger over his bicep to distract your burning eyes, “we can’t escape who we are Luke. Me and you. Isn’t that enough for now?”

He lets out a sigh and you know his answer; his shoulders sink low enough that your hold on him loosens ever so slightly. At this rate, you think it’d be easier if he’d just pull the trigger—maybe it would hurt less than this.

“I’ll change the gods’ minds and make them agree. They’ll know us, babe. The glory—”

Everything around you blurs as you hone in on your anger. This whole forest could go up in flames and you wouldn’t give a damn,”Oh FUCK glory! Just love me and that’s enough! Why can’t that be enough? Why can’t you stop running from me for once, Luke!” Your plea comes out like a wail and you push him away, feeling disgusted by what’s come of this conversation. You were never a beggar—the only thing left to do was kneel in the dirt and beg him not to break up with you. Before you can think of the irrational thought any further he shakes his head, almost growling, “How do you still not get it? It’s because I love you is why I can’t.”

“Listen, I love you too, babe. I just…don’t know if I like you right now.”

That’s not fair. He’s sacrificing the entire trajectory of his life and you can’t figure out if you like him? You don’t know the lengths he would go to, can’t fathom the obstacles he would conquer just to make sure that you and him have it all. And you’re not even trying to see it his way—to even imagine that he could make it possible.

Things couldn’t stay the same forever, that you could both agree on.

“You’re all talk, you know that, Trouble? You’re just mad that I want this life more than you. And you know I’d actually do what I need to do to get it. Would you?” he nudges you roughly, “Talk to me! This is your time to get it all out of your system. Say that I wouldn’t do anything for you. You know I would.” Fat tears are rolling down your cheeks; he hates watching you cry. It’s the whole reason he signed away his soul—he wants the world you live in to be a place where gods bow down to you and dry your tears, not cause them. Luke would topple Olympus in an instant if it meant you wouldn’t look at him like he’s a lost cause.

“That’s not fair, you haven’t even answered a single question I’ve asked you. It’s like you’re not even listening to me, Lu—”

“Not fair?”

Groaning, you turn away from him. The flag post you dropped earlier is long gone now—the game is still on and the world keeps spinning whether you like it or not. But you’re disinterested in all that now.

“Do you even hear yourself? To you, I’m still the girl on the Ferris wheel,” you sniff, wiping your nose with your sleeve. His hands squeeze your shoulders, begging, pleading for you to understand, “Is that a bad thing? You tell me you haven’t changed—I’m protecting her because you won’t. I’m getting her the hell out of here because I know she deserves more than this. Look around you,” he whispers your name against your neck, “We could forget all of this.” 

But that’s just not who you are. Your shoulders tremble as you hold them up under the pressure. Sure you could see what he’s saying—there isn’t a single future you can imagine without Luke in it. The house, the kids…but more than that you just want to belong somewhere. And Camp Half-Blood is where you belong. With him. 

“I don’t want everything, Luke. I just want you. And if you don’t want this, I need you to tell me now. Because I’m tired,” you warble, digging your nails into your palms, “ and I’m sick of this game. I feel like neither of us are winning.” You take a step back to look at him—sunlight filtering through his hair, eyes wistful and contemplative.

“Maybe we should take a break.”

And there it is. He’s already made his decision, whether he admits it or not. A horn blares overhead, followed by the sounds of cheering. You don’t know who won, and you don’t really give a shit if we’re being real right now. 

“Does it even matter?”

There’s a frozen look on your face like you’ve been struck by lightning, half between a crooked smile and subtle surprise. It’s a knowing look, Luke thinks, what he can see of you through half-lidded lashes and grief. He thinks years from now, if he even makes it that far, it’ll all come back to this moment in the North Woods, and you, the girl he was in love with at nineteen.

“It’s not even worth it now I guess,” he whispers. It makes you laugh—even your laughter sounds sad now. 

It seems that even breaking up with you is an inconvenience.

You sniff, wiping your face and looking around. Everyone’s gone already and Chiron will be looking for you two soon, “Then it’s not worth it. Because you say so… and we’ve got work to do.” Your watch beeps. 

Dinner service starts soon, but before you both head over to the pavilion, you and Luke are expected to set up the bonfire. He nods, loosening the straps of his chestplate, just something to do with his hands, “I know.”

“I don’t want to go. I’m not ready to leave this all behind yet. I’m still needed here.” Until your coming of age ceremony. Until your heart calls you elsewhere and your family can stand on their feet. 

Until then.

Somewhere, you hear Annabeth calling out to you, the melody of both of your names traveling through the trees. You and Luke turn your heads in that direction, before looking at each other once more. He licks his lips, “I know that. We should get back to it, then.” There’s no use doing this all alone, he thinks. And there’s a part of you that thinks there is no use for you when you’re alone.

“We should.”

Neither of you move. 

The winter solstice is tomorrow and there is much work left for the both of you to do.

—

I don’t understand how he grows colder from the same love that warms me. I didn’t know we loved differently—him partly, less and less, and I entirely. - JNH / @shatteredjuvenileday

[fairyboy1111]

A poem for Hebe + Digital offering

Hebe, gladdening princess, crowned in flowers that’ll never wither

Nay, they stay fresh, forever growing lovelier and sweeter

For you are the source of eternal youth, the never-ending flow of life’s prime

And in the cups of the gods you pour trough their feasts their nectar, so very divine

Thus you preserve existence’s beauty and zeal, the deathless themselves unaging you keep

You dance in the train of Aphrodite and walk with Hera alongside brides-to-be

You play with Olympus’s horses and delight in the clattering of toasts

You inspire mankind to forgive, you inspire hope when all seems lost

Blameless, bright-eyed goddess, even when Geras himself knocks on my door, I pray you to keep my soul forever young

So that I may keep on imagining and dreaming, on playing and finding joy trough every high and trough every low

Protect the child that lives within my heart, never let their light go out

Ambrosia-anointed goddess, beginning that transcends time

[radio-fmm]

Magic Music Box

Law x strawhat!reader

Warnings: alcohol consumption, gn reader, confession, fluff

Word count: 1.4k

Summary: You ask Law to dance with you

Masterlist

The smell of booze mixed with the warm lights and the sound of laughter and stomping filled the atmosphere of The Thousand Sunny as everyone unraveled with a well deserved celebration. Law felt out of his element, but finding your company rarely soothing

You were sitting across his table making fun lighthearted conversation, it may not seem like it but the alcohol in your drink was starting to get to your head, laughing louder than you probably should at Law’s snarky comments and sarcastic remarks. Strangely the Captain seemed to be enjoying the night while it was spent with you, suddenly feeling part of the party and actually having a little fun in your conversation. And not gonna lie, he was enjoying the view

Your view

So when you got up form your seat running with Nami in hand to the dance floor he couldn’t help but to grimace

“Absolutely not I don’t dance” you had answered the navigator as she approached you offering her hand to get up and dance, she rolled her eyes and begged but you didn’t bat an eye. That was until Law spotted her whispering something to Brook before making her way back to the table

As the song changed and the new melody made its way to your ears you couldn’t help but to smile wide and get up

“That’s my song! C’mon Traffy” you had said as you motioned to follow the two, he just shook his head and took a sip form his drink looking away, he would rather get shot and die

Stumbling you make it to the center of the room while you let loose and hit every single move with a newfound confidence

He wondered why he allowed himself to get to this point, where he fell head over heels for a strawhat. The moment he met you he knew it would be inevitable, your warm welcoming personality threaded with your kind and brave heart made it impossible to get you out of his head, and that smile and your laugh and your big eyes that stared back pleading for him to succumb to your charm

He tried to fight it, drilling the thought of your alliance being a finite professional fragile thing that would most definitely make his feelings tangle the situation. But all of it traveled to the back burner, enjoying your long blissful talks, shared stares and slight touches that would slip out of his hands. He was present in the moment with you, everything fading

He cursed the day you had finally climbed up his walls and got through him, suddenly making himself known to you on a highly personal level; something he had prevented for so long but it somehow felt right, allowing you to hold his heart on your graceful hands and keep it safe, because he knew you would cherish it

As you spin around your eyes lock with his, a smile settling on your features, a genuine happiness that infects the surgeon making him smile back at you, pink tinting his cheeks as he basks in how gorgeous you look even when dancing around drunk

You continue spinning and fall onto Luffy, who laughs as he catches you. He can make out the words ‘sorry’ come out of your mouth, but join on the silly laughter with your stretchy Captain. Now you find yourself dancing along with him, Law clenched his teeth at the way Luffy’s hands sit on your hands and waist, which is stupid really, if you’d offered him to dance with you a second time he would decline again, but now he weights his options seeing how you sway around with the straw hat, wishing he could hold you close the same way he does at the rhythm of your favorite song

Luffy takes both of your hands and spins you around making you beam brighter than any sunset he had witnessed in his troubled life, he curses under his breath as jealousy extends trough his being that is quick to fade when you stop in your tracks, holding your head in one hand while the other looks for support on your Captain standing in front of you worried. Law is by your side in a heartbeat, hand in your back while he lowers to your level while you’re hunched over looking at the floor

“Think’ we danced too hard” Luffy says but Trafalgar doesn’t spare him a glance

“You think?”

“I’m fine” you cut them off standing up slowly but surely.- “Just a little dizzy” your eyes snap shut trying to make the room stop spinning

“You need to sit down” Law doesn’t leave room for arguing, taking you away from the straw hat’s hold while he walked you back to your table, Luffy just giggles at the way Traffy just seemed to softened in your hold.

While you walked stumbled through the room, Law could feel how you supported yourself on his bigger frame, holding onto his arm with both hands making his heart flip. He settles you down carefully, your hands quickly making their way for your drink which he grabs the moment he notices, making you whine

“That’s enough of this” a blue bubble shines through his tattooed hands and replaces the drink with a water bottle that he opens for you. You take it with a pout, Law sitting beside you with his worried eyes scanning every nook and cranny of your body

“I told you I was just dizzy” you reassure after downing half the water, Law adverts his eyes from you immediately

“Just making sure” you smile at that, knowing how he genuinely cares for your well being, sometimes too much

You stare back at the surgeon, tracing his features over and over again before you are up on your feet for a second round

“Slow down” he says switching to doctor mode again

“You’re not my doctor right now, you’re Law” your hands extend to catch both of his sending electric shocks trough his whole body, but holding onto you nonetheless

“And Law is dancing with me”

He had long jumped over the lines of being a Captain, a doctor and just being himself, the three blurring together not really knowing where one started and one ended. Somehow you had reminded him who he was beyond his pirate life, devoting yourself to Trafalgar Law, not the Captain of the Heart Pirates, not The Surgeon of Death. You saw him for just him, his vulnerable broken self that you embraced

Even though he really doesn’t want to dance at all, the way your body presses to his, his hands gripping your hips like a lifeline and your gaze on his makes him surrender, making a lot of his subordinates and allies turn their heads and laugh at how weird it was to see him in this position

You were a complete mystery to Law, how could you do this to him? Why weren’t you afraid or disgusted by his reputation? Why did you wanted to dance with him? And why did he allowed you to?

Eventually the upbeat songs slowed down to ballads, your head resting on his drumming chest while he held you like you were about to disappear

Your head looked up to his golden eyes, completely lost in the feeling “Thank you Law, I know you hate this stuff” you murmured, your sweet words fanning on his goatee making him shiver

He stays awfully quiet before he formulates the right words to speak “Please stay, y/n-ya”

There’s something almost wrong when you hear him pleading, taking you aback not only at the words but at their implications, finally sinking in the fact of the complicated relationship you had buried yourselves in

Your feet stop moving, your thoughts running a mile a minute not really knowing what your answer could do or be. You let your guard down, some people would deem it as stupid specially as you stand before the most methodic man you had ever known, your heart screams you to do one thing while your brain glitches to comprehend

You switch your position making Law increasingly nervous, thinking you may just leave him in the dust. Instead, you tip toe to meet his dried mouth and rest your lips on his in dreamy kiss full of yearning

Is it a yes? Is it a maybe? Is it a promise? Neither of you know

But it felt right

I am back on my Rock en español era and this was inspired by this song, what can I say latin-american rock is so damn good