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pucksandpower · 22 days ago

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Fantasy Come to Life

Day 23 → Consensual Non-Consent 💋 Max Verstappen

Warnings: 18+ content, CNC, drugging, and conditioning

Kinktober Masterlist

The streets of Monaco glimmer under the soft afternoon sun, a golden haze coating the narrow lanes of boutiques and cafés. Your sandals click against the cobblestone as you make your way towards the boutique district.

Excitement pulses in your veins. The air smells of salt from the sea mixed with expensive perfumes wafting from open shop doors. A vacation, you think. Finally, a breath of freedom.

There’s a group of tourists ahead, their laughter bouncing between the buildings, but you don’t pay them much attention. You’re too busy thinking about the new dress you’ve been eyeing since last night. Just a few more minutes, and you’ll-

A hand. Suddenly.

It’s over your mouth. It’s over your nose. You barely process the scent of something sweet before your body reacts, muscles tensing as you thrash, trying to scream. But your voice is gone. Your world is tipping sideways. The bustling streets dim, muffled voices becoming far-off echoes.

You struggle. Harder now, your legs kicking wildly, hands flailing to grab onto something — anything — but it’s useless. The arms around you are too strong, pulling you back, pulling you down. The cloth over your face smells like chemicals, sickly sweet and heavy.

The light above you begins to blur. Your fingers twitch, reaching for the fading streetlights, for the sky, but everything’s too far away. Your limbs stop responding. You’re falling.

And then — nothing.

***

When you come to, your eyelids feel impossibly heavy. Everything is hazy, dark. You try to move but your body doesn’t listen. Panic flares. You can barely breathe, and your head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton.

Then you hear voices. Men, low and murmuring, their words filtering into your consciousness through the haze.

“... should be waking up soon,” one of them says. His voice is smooth, calm, like this is all perfectly normal.

“Why her, though?” It’s the driver, speaking in a clipped tone. The rumble of the engine thrums beneath you, the subtle vibration reminding you that you’re in a car. “There are thousands of beautiful women here, Max. You didn’t have to go through all this trouble.”

There’s a pause.

And then, a deeper voice, Max, answers.

“I knew the moment I saw her,” Max says, his tone dark, possessive. “She’s meant to be mine.”

Your heart thuds. You can hear him shifting in the seat next to you, close enough that you can feel the heat of him.

The driver scoffs. “That’s ridiculous. You don’t even know her.”

“I don’t need to,” Max replies smoothly. “Some things are undeniable.”

His words drip with confidence, like this is all part of some grand plan that only he understands.

You try to move again, to make a sound, but your limbs are heavy and unresponsive, and fear curls in your stomach like a fist. You’re trapped, lying motionless in the backseat of this car with two strangers, one of whom thinks he owns you.

“She’ll resist,” the driver says. “They always resist.”

Max chuckles, low and quiet. “Of course she will. At first.” There’s a pause, then you hear him shift closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “But I’ll make her understand. She’ll be perfect once I’ve made her mine.”

The air around you feels suffocating, his presence overwhelming. You want to scream, to cry, but your body remains limp, powerless under whatever they’ve drugged you with. You try to focus, to force your eyes open, but it’s like swimming through quicksand.

“She’s pretty,” the driver remarks after a beat. “But not worth all this. You really think she’s the one?”

Max lets out a quiet laugh, a sound that sends chills down your spine. “She is the one. I’ve seen plenty of women, but none like her.”

The driver grunts, unconvinced. “You sound obsessed.”

“I’m not obsessed,” Max corrects him, his tone calm, deliberate. “I’m certain.”

A silence stretches between them, the only sound the hum of the engine and the faint rustle of fabric as Max leans back.

You fight against the drug still clouding your senses, trying to make sense of your surroundings. The luxurious leather beneath you, the soft vibrations of the car — this isn’t just any car. It’s expensive. You can tell by the way it smells, by the subtle way it moves over the road. These men — they aren’t amateurs.

“What’s the plan, then?” The driver asks, breaking the silence. “You can’t just keep her like this.”

Max takes his time responding. “I’ll introduce myself properly once she wakes up. Once she’s calm.”

“And if she’s not?”

“She will be,” Max says, a thread of steel weaving into his voice. “She doesn’t have a choice.”

Your stomach churns. You try again to move, to scream, but nothing comes out. It’s like your body is a prison, and you’re trapped inside, helpless. You feel Max’s gaze on you, heavy, unyielding. Even though you can’t see him, you know he’s watching, waiting.

“You’re insane,” the driver mutters, shaking his head. “This is a bad idea.”

Max doesn’t respond immediately. When he does, his voice is low, quiet, almost intimate. “You don’t understand,” he says. “She belongs to me. I knew it the moment I saw her walk out of that hotel. I could feel it.”

The driver sighs. “I still don’t get it. Why go through all this trouble? She’s just a girl.”

“She’s not just a girl,” Max snaps, his patience thinning. “She’s the girl. The only one.”

Your pulse quickens. You’ve heard enough to know that whatever Max wants from you, it’s not something you can just walk away from. There’s something dangerous about the way he talks about you, like you’re an object, something to be claimed and owned.

“Whatever,” the driver says, clearly done with the conversation. “Just make sure you know what you’re doing.”

“I always do,” Max replies, the confidence back in his voice. “Now, keep driving.”

There’s a shift in the car, a turn, and you feel the momentum change as they head somewhere new. You fight to stay conscious, to fight through the fog in your mind, but it’s getting harder and harder to focus. The drugs are still working their way through your system, and you can feel yourself slipping.

Max leans in closer again, his voice soft, almost a whisper. “Don’t worry,” he says. “You’ll wake up soon. And when you do, we’ll start over. Properly this time.”

The car hums beneath you as it continues its journey, and with every second that passes, you feel yourself fading again, drifting away into the darkness.

***

Time slips away, and you don’t know how long you’ve been out when you finally stir. Your eyes flutter open, and the world slowly comes back into focus. The car has stopped, parked somewhere dark and quiet. You can barely move, but you manage to shift slightly, just enough to feel the weight of the leather seat beneath you, the tightness of your clothes against your skin.

There’s a rustle next to you, and then Max is there, leaning over you, his eyes gleaming in the dim light.

“Good,” he murmurs, his voice a low purr. “You’re awake.”

You try to speak, but your throat is dry, and all that comes out is a faint croak.

“Shh,” Max soothes, his fingers brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Don’t try to talk. You’re still a little out of it.”

Your heart races, and you try to push yourself up, but your limbs are still sluggish, your body refusing to obey.

Max watches you for a moment, then smiles. “Don’t worry,” he says. “This will all make sense soon enough.”

You want to scream, to lash out, to fight, but you can’t. You’re trapped, and Max knows it.

“You’re mine,” he whispers, leaning in close, his breath warm against your skin. “And I’ll make sure you understand that.”

Terror grips you, but there’s nothing you can do. Not yet.

Max sits back, his eyes never leaving you, and for the first time, you realize just how much danger you’re in.

The world outside the car is quiet, the faint rustle of leaves the only sound in the stillness. You’re groggy, trying to push through the fog in your mind as Max’s hands move to unbuckle your seatbelt. His touch is efficient, calculated, not gentle. The door opens with a soft click, and you feel the cool night air wash over your skin.

Max leans down, his face close to yours, eyes sharp and watchful. “I’m going to carry you inside,” he says, almost as if he’s giving you permission to protest. But you can’t. You can barely lift your head. The drug still lingers, turning your limbs to lead.

Without another word, he slides his arms under you, lifting you effortlessly. His grip is secure, possessive, and you can feel the strength in his muscles as he carries you out of the car and toward the looming silhouette of a villa in the distance. It’s massive. Larger than anything you’ve ever seen in real life, with sprawling gardens that stretch into the darkness. The villa itself is lit from within, a soft glow spilling through tall windows. It’s beautiful in a cold, detached way, like a piece of art you can admire but never touch.

As Max carries you up the long driveway, his pace is steady, unhurried. He isn’t worried about anyone seeing him. He’s confident. Why wouldn’t he be? There’s no one around. No one to help.

“Where are you taking me?” You manage to whisper, your voice weak but steady enough to ask the question that’s been burning in your mind.

Max doesn’t stop walking. He doesn’t even look at you. “Home,” he replies simply.

You swallow, the word landing like a stone in your chest. “This isn’t-”

“It will be,” he cuts you off, his voice calm, like he’s already made up his mind about everything. “You’ll see.”

You try to focus, to take in every detail. The way the villa seems to stretch forever, the heavy scent of flowers in the air, the distant hum of the sea. The weight of Max’s arms around you, the way his fingers press into your skin as though he’s afraid you might slip away.

But you’re not slipping anywhere.

He carries you through the grand entrance, past doors that swing open with ease, revealing a marble-floored foyer that’s so pristine, it feels untouched. There’s a quietness to the place, a hollow, echoing silence that sends a chill down your spine.

The sound of Max’s shoes against the marble floor is steady, rhythmic, as he carries you through the house. You catch glimpses of rooms as you pass — an opulent dining room with a crystal chandelier, a sitting room with velvet chairs and enormous windows. But it’s all a blur, your mind struggling to hold on to details as exhaustion pulls at you.

Finally, Max stops in front of a set of tall double doors. He shifts you slightly in his arms, then pushes one of the doors open with his shoulder. The room beyond is lavish, even more opulent than the rest of the villa. The bed is massive, draped in silk and velvet, with heavy curtains framing the windows that stretch from floor to ceiling. The walls are lined with dark wood, polished to a shine, and a crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling, casting soft light across the room.

Max walks over to the bed, lowering you gently onto the soft mattress. Your body sinks into the silk sheets, and for a moment, it feels like you’re floating. But the comfort is fleeting, replaced quickly by the suffocating weight of reality.

He stands over you, his eyes scanning your face as if he’s searching for something. “This is where you’ll stay for now,” he says, his tone matter-of-fact. “Until you understand.”

You blink, struggling to keep your thoughts from spiraling out of control. “Understand what?”

Max’s lips twitch into the faintest hint of a smile. “That you belong here. With me.”

You want to argue, to scream, to do anything to break through the haze that’s clouding your mind. But the words catch in your throat, and all you can manage is a shaky breath.

Max moves to the foot of the bed, his hands clasped behind his back as he regards you with that same unnerving calm. “This is the beginning,” he says softly. “The conditioning will start now.”

Your heart lurches. Conditioning. The word feels clinical, detached, like something out of a textbook. But the way Max says it makes it clear that this is no abstract concept. This is real. It’s happening to you.

“What are you talking about?” You whisper, forcing the words past the lump in your throat.

Max steps closer, his gaze steady, almost gentle. “You’re going to learn to associate certain things with me. Pleasure, comfort, safety. And you’ll learn that being without me ... hurts.” He says it so simply, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Your stomach twists. “You can’t ... you can’t do this.”

“I already am,” he replies smoothly, his eyes dark and unreadable. “The process is simple. Every time you wake up, you’ll feel better when I’m here. Worse when I’m not. Eventually, it’ll become instinct. You’ll crave my presence. You��ll need me.”

Your breath quickens, panic rising in your chest. “You’re insane.”

Max tilts his head slightly, as though considering your words. “Maybe,” he says, almost casually. “But that doesn’t change anything.”

Before you can respond, there’s a knock at the door. Max doesn’t react, doesn’t even turn to look as the door swings open. A man enters, dressed in a white coat, carrying a small bag in one hand. He’s older, with graying hair and a sharp, clinical air about him. He looks at you briefly, then turns his attention to Max.

“Everything’s prepared,” the man says, his voice clipped and professional.

Max nods. “Good. Let’s begin.”

The man moves to the side of the bed, setting his bag down on the nightstand. You try to push yourself up, but your body still feels sluggish, uncooperative. Fear surges through you as the man opens the bag, pulling out a syringe filled with clear liquid.

“Wait,” you rasp, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Please, don’t do this.”

Max moves closer, his gaze fixed on you. “It’s for your own good,” he says softly. “You’ll understand soon.”

The physician takes your arm, finding a vein with practiced ease. You flinch, but the needle is in before you can even protest. The liquid burns as it enters your bloodstream, a slow, creeping warmth that spreads through your body.

Your vision starts to blur again, the edges of the room fading into darkness. Max’s voice is the last thing you hear before everything goes black.

“You’ll wake up soon,” he says, his voice gentle, almost soothing. “And when you do, I’ll be here. Right where I belong.”

***

The next time you open your eyes, it feels like hours have passed. Maybe days. You’re not sure. The room is the same, the heavy curtains drawn, the chandelier casting its soft glow across the dark wood and silk.

Max is there, sitting in a chair by the bed, watching you. His presence is like a weight in the room, something you can feel even before you fully register it. The sight of him sends a strange warmth through your chest, a flicker of something you don’t want to acknowledge.

“You’re awake,” he says, his voice low and steady.

You blink, trying to shake off the fog that still clings to your mind. “What ... what did you do?”

Max leans forward slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. “I told you,” he says softly. “The conditioning has begun.”

You try to sit up, but your body feels weak, drained. The drug — whatever they gave you — is still working its way through your system, dulling your senses. But even through the haze, you can feel it. The strange pull toward Max, the inexplicable comfort that his presence brings. It’s wrong. It’s all wrong.

“You can’t-” you start, but your voice falters. The words don’t come as easily as they should.

Max stands, moving to the side of the bed. “I know it’s confusing right now,” he says, his tone almost kind. “But it’ll get easier. The more time we spend together, the more natural it’ll feel. You’ll stop fighting it.”

You shake your head, trying to clear the fog. “I’ll never-”

“You will,” Max interrupts, his voice firm but not harsh. “You don’t have a choice.”

He reaches out, brushing a hand over your hair, his touch gentle but possessive. The warmth that spreads through you at the contact is immediate, overwhelming, and you hate it. You hate the way your body responds, the way your mind seems to betray you.

“I’ll leave you for now,” Max says, pulling his hand back. “But don’t worry. I won’t be gone long.”

Your heart races as he steps away, moving toward the door. The thought of him leaving sends a sharp pang through your chest, and you can’t understand why. This is what you want. To be free of him. To be alone.

But as the door closes behind him, the room suddenly feels colder, emptier. The warmth he left behind begins to fade, replaced by an aching void that gnaws at you from the inside.

You close your eyes, trying to fight it, trying to cling to your own thoughts, but the emptiness crashes over you like a tidal wave. It’s immediate — sharp and suffocating, spreading through your body like a cold fog. You close your eyes, trying to focus on anything else, but the ache pulses deep inside you. Your muscles tense as though they’re bracing against a storm, but there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

The room feels unbearably quiet without him, as though the air has been sucked out, leaving only a hollow silence behind. You hate this. You hate how quickly your body has betrayed you, how quickly the comfort of his presence has taken root inside you.

This is wrong, you tell yourself. It’s the drugs, the conditioning.

But the longer he’s gone, the more unbearable the ache becomes. It’s subtle at first, like a distant pressure, but it grows stronger, clawing at your insides until every nerve feels raw and exposed. Your breath comes in shallow, uneven gasps as you fight against the pull, but it’s relentless.

Time stretches out. You don’t know how long you’ve been lying there, staring up at the ceiling, but it feels like an eternity. Every second without him feels like a thousand needles pressing into your skin. Your body screams for relief, for the warmth of his presence to soothe the burning ache inside you.

You grit your teeth, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. This isn’t real, you think, but your body doesn’t care. All it knows is that it hurts.

And then, after what feels like an eternity, the door opens.

The relief is instant. The moment Max steps into the room, the ache that’s been gnawing at you recedes, replaced by a wave of warmth that rushes through your veins. You hate it. You hate how quickly the pain fades, how easily your body responds to him, but there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

Max walks in slowly, his eyes locked on you, taking in every detail of your face as if reading the changes in your expression. You don’t need to speak for him to know what you’re feeling. He can see it. He can see how desperate your body is for the comfort he brings, even though your mind is screaming for it to stop.

“I told you,” Max says softly, moving closer to the bed. “You’ll feel better when I’m here.”

You don’t respond. You can’t. Your throat feels tight, the words trapped inside you, and the worst part is you don’t know if they’d come out as anger or something worse.

Max sits on the edge of the bed, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your face. The touch is gentle, careful, and it sends a shiver down your spine. “I’m here to make you feel good,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. “That’s what I’ll always do. As long as you behave for me.”

You swallow hard, the weight of his words pressing down on you. He says it like a promise, like he genuinely believes that he’s helping you.

“I don’t need you,” you manage to whisper, your voice shaking. “I don’t want this.”

Max’s smile is soft, almost pitying. “Your body says otherwise.” His fingers trail down your cheek, brushing against your skin. “You can fight it all you want, but you’ll always feel better when I’m close. That’s the way it’s going to be.”

You try to pull away from his touch, but your body betrays you, craving the warmth and relief that comes with his proximity. The ache that had threatened to consume you moments ago is gone, replaced by a simmering heat that spreads through your limbs, making your skin tingle under his fingertips.

Max watches you closely, his eyes dark and calculating as he gauges your reaction. “See?” He murmurs, his voice soft and coaxing. “You’re already starting to understand.”

“I hate you,” you whisper, but even as you say the words, your body is reacting to him, leaning into his touch despite the protests screaming in your mind.

Max doesn’t flinch at your words. If anything, he seems amused. “Hate me if you want,” he says, his tone light. “But your body knows the truth.”

His hand moves lower, trailing down your arm, sending a ripple of sensation through you that you can’t control. Your breath catches in your throat as the warmth intensifies, and you clench your fists, trying to fight the pull.

Max’s fingers skim the edge of your dress, his eyes never leaving yours as he watches the way your body reacts. “You’ll feel good, I promise,” he whispers. “Better than you’ve ever felt before.”

You shake your head, panic rising in your chest. “No-”

But Max doesn’t stop. His hand slips under the fabric of your dress, his touch deliberate and slow as he hikes it up over your thighs, exposing your skin to the cool air of the room. Your heart races, a mixture of fear and something you don’t want to name thrumming through your veins.

“Shh,” Max soothes, his voice steady. “You’ll learn to trust me. To need me. It’s already happening.”

You try to close your legs, but his hands are firm, guiding you open, controlling the movement of your body as if you’re nothing more than a doll in his hands. A small, broken sound escapes your throat, but he doesn’t stop, his fingers tracing patterns over your skin, making your pulse quicken.

“I told you I’d make you feel good,” he says softly, his voice a low murmur in your ear. “You don’t have to fight it.”

Tears prick at your eyes, your chest heaving with shallow, uneven breaths. You want to scream, to kick, to fight him off, but the weight of your own body holds you down. And worse — the warmth that follows his touch, the heat building in your core, it betrays you. You can’t stop the way your body reacts to him, no matter how much you want to.

Max shifts, his knee pressing against the bed as he leans over you, his hand sliding higher under your dress. His fingers graze the edge of your underwear, and your breath hitches, panic and unwanted anticipation coiling together inside you.

“Please,” you whisper, your voice cracking. “Don’t.”

But Max doesn’t listen. His hand slips beneath the fabric, his fingers brushing against you, and the sensation is overwhelming. You arch against him involuntarily, your body moving without your consent, and the heat inside you builds, the ache that had threatened to consume you earlier morphing into something entirely different.

“You’ll come to love this,” Max says, his tone calm, confident. “In time, you’ll crave it.”

You want to scream that he’s wrong, that you’ll never crave this, but your body doesn’t listen. It reacts to his touch, to the way his fingers move, coaxing a response out of you that you can’t control.

Max’s other hand moves to your hair, brushing it back gently as he leans down, his lips close to your ear. “Let go,” he whispers. “Stop fighting it. I’ll take care of you.”

Your breath is ragged, your heart pounding in your chest as the heat builds inside you, and you feel yourself teetering on the edge, caught between the need to escape and the unbearable sensation that’s pushing you closer to a precipice you don’t want to fall over.

“I’ll always make you feel good,” Max murmurs, his fingers moving faster over your clit, his voice a steady, calming presence in the storm raging inside you. “As long as you’re good for me.”

Your body tenses, the wave crashing over you, pulling you under. You gasp, your back arching off the bed as the sensation overwhelms you, drowning out every thought, every protest, until there’s nothing left but the blinding heat of release.

Max’s hand stills, his touch softening as the aftershocks ripple through you, and he watches, his expression unreadable as you come undone beneath him. You hate it. You hate every second of it. But the worst part is that your body craves it.

Max leans back, his hand trailing away from you, leaving your skin burning in its absence. He stands, adjusting his sleeves as though nothing out of the ordinary has happened.

“You did well,” he says, his voice soft, almost tender. “I’ll leave you to rest now.”

Your body is limp, your mind spinning as you try to process what’s just happened. The ache is gone, replaced by an empty exhaustion that weighs heavily on your limbs.

Max heads toward the door, pausing only briefly to glance back at you. “Remember,” he says quietly, his eyes dark and intense. “You’ll always feel better when I’m here.”

Then he’s gone, the door closing softly behind him.

You lie there, staring at the ceiling, the echo of his touch still lingering on your skin. The room is silent again, but this time the silence isn’t cold. It’s suffocating, pressing down on you like a heavy blanket, and for the first time since you arrived in this place, you realize just how trapped you are.

And worst of all, you know that he’s right.

***

The door opens again.

This time, when you hear it, your body doesn’t flood with fear, or even confusion — it’s anticipation. The ache that had returned in his absence is quickly soothed as Max steps into the room, his presence undeniable, filling the space with a charged energy that you’ve come to crave.

His steps are measured, deliberate, as he crosses the room to you. There’s no hesitation in his movement, no uncertainty. He knows exactly what he’s doing and what you both agreed upon. The room feels smaller when he’s in it, like the walls close in, but in a way that feels safe, protected — like nothing can touch you except him.

Max’s lips curl into a slow, knowing smile as he comes to the side of the bed, his eyes locking onto yours. He says nothing at first, letting the moment linger between you, thick and heavy. You’re not sure if you should speak or wait for him to break the silence.

He doesn’t make you wait long.

“Good girl,” he murmurs softly, his voice like velvet as he leans down, brushing a kiss against your forehead. “You were perfect.”

There’s a flutter of warmth in your chest at the praise, something that makes you feel both proud and vulnerable all at once. You blink up at him, your body still exhausted from what just happened, but there’s something comforting about the way he’s looking at you now. The way his hand reaches out to caress your cheek, tender and affectionate, as if to erase any remnants of the harshness from before.

“I wasn’t sure if you could handle it,” Max continues, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw with an intimacy that feels far more personal than anything he’s done before. “But you did. You always do, don’t you?”

You nod, your throat tight, the words caught somewhere between your mind and your mouth. You can’t quite shake the feeling of how intense everything was, how quickly it all escalated. But now, with him here, touching you like this, the pieces of the scene start to fall away, revealing what lies underneath.

Max watches you, waiting for your response, but he’s patient. He always is, especially after something like this. He knows you need time to come back down, to find your footing after the role you’ve both played.

“Was it … okay?” You manage to ask, your voice still soft and hesitant. There’s a vulnerability in your tone, a need for reassurance, even though you know how he feels.

Max’s eyes soften, and he leans down to kiss you — soft, slow, and deliberate. His lips linger against yours, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of your neck as he deepens the kiss. It’s a different kind of intensity now, one that speaks to the connection you both share. When he finally pulls back, there’s a hint of amusement in his gaze.

“More than okay,” he whispers. “You were incredible.”

The tension that had been coiled inside you loosens at his words, and you feel yourself relax against the pillows. Max’s praise always has this effect on you, like it fills in the cracks and makes everything feel right again.

“I love you,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your lower lip as he studies your face. “Every second of it was perfect because it was with you.”

The weight of those words settles into your chest, grounding you in the reality of what you both share. It’s all an act — a scene you agreed upon. Max has always been careful, always made sure you were okay with everything. That’s how it works between you two. The intensity, the control, the power dynamic — it’s all part of the game, part of what you’ve both built together. But underneath it all is the love, the trust that binds you to him.

He presses another kiss to your lips, softer this time, a gesture of affection rather than dominance. When he pulls away, there’s a lightness in his expression, a warmth that makes the remnants of the scene melt away completely.

“I have something for you,” he says, standing up and walking toward the door. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

You watch as he exits the room, the anticipation building again, though this time it’s mixed with curiosity. Moments later, Max returns, pushing a small cart laden with trays of food. The smell hits you first — rich, savory, and mouthwatering. Your stomach growls in response, reminding you that you haven’t eaten in what feels like forever.

Max notices, and the corner of his mouth lifts into a satisfied smile. “I thought you might be hungry.”

You sit up slightly, propping yourself on your elbows as Max wheels the cart over to the side of the bed. He lifts the lids from the trays, revealing an array of delicacies — perfectly grilled meats, roasted vegetables, fresh fruit, and decadent desserts. It’s more than just a meal, it’s a feast.

“Let me,” Max says, reaching for a fork. He cuts a small piece of steak and holds it out to you, his eyes watching your every movement, waiting for you to take the first bite.

You hesitate for only a moment before leaning forward, letting him feed you. The flavors burst across your tongue, rich and savory, and you can’t help the small sound of appreciation that escapes your lips.

Max’s smile widens. “Good?”

You nod, swallowing before responding. “It’s amazing.”

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and there’s that familiar warmth in his voice again, the praise sinking into your skin like sunlight. He cuts another piece of food, feeding it to you before leaning in to kiss you between bites.

Each kiss is soft, slow, and filled with an affection that feels worlds away from the intensity of earlier. You sink into the moment, into the comfort of his presence, letting yourself be taken care of.

“You were so perfect for me,” Max whispers between kisses, his lips brushing against your cheek. “I couldn’t have asked for anything better.”

You smile softly, feeling the tension of the day melt away as you let him feed you, let him take care of you. There’s something intimate about the act, something grounding. It’s not just about the food — it’s about the connection, the way he looks at you with such devotion in his eyes.

Max takes his time, savoring the moment as much as you are. He alternates between feeding you and stealing kisses, each one a little longer, a little deeper than the last. His hands are gentle as they move over your skin, brushing your hair back, cupping your face, his touch always lingering just a little longer than necessary.

“You have no idea how proud I am of you,” he murmurs against your lips. “The way you trust me, the way you let go. It’s everything I could ever want.”

You close your eyes, leaning into him, the warmth of his words settling deep inside you. It’s always like this after a scene — the tenderness, the closeness. Max knows how to bring you back, how to make you feel safe and loved after everything.

“I couldn’t do it without you,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

Max pulls back just enough to look at you, his expression softening even more. “We do this together. That’s what makes it so special.”

There’s a weight to his words, a promise that echoes in the quiet of the room. You nod, knowing it’s true. You wouldn’t be able to do any of this without him — not the scenes, not the intensity, not the way you let yourself go completely when you’re with him.

Max leans in again, kissing you deeply this time, his hands cradling your face as if you’re the most precious thing in the world. When he finally pulls away, there’s a hunger in his eyes, but it’s not the same hunger from earlier. This one is softer, more intimate, and it makes your heart swell in your chest.

“I love you,” he says again, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I love you too,” you reply, the words coming easily, naturally, because they’re the truest thing you know.

Max smiles, a slow, satisfied smile that makes your stomach flip. He reaches for one of the desserts on the tray — a small piece of chocolate cake — and holds it out to you. You take a bite, and before you can even swallow, Max is kissing you again, his lips tasting of chocolate and sweetness.

“You taste so good,” he murmurs against your lips, and you can’t help but smile into the kiss.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur of kisses and laughter, the food slowly disappearing from the trays as Max continues to feed you, praising you with every bite and every kiss. The intensity of earlier is long gone, replaced by something deeper, something that feels like home.

And as you lie there in his arms, sated and content, you know that no matter what happens, no matter how intense the scenes get, you’ll always have this — this quiet, tender intimacy that belongs to just the two of you.

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glassrowboat · 7 months ago

Text

I Grew Up. Jing Yuan.

Summary: Before Jing Yuan was the general of the Luofu, he was just another kid who would play with wooden swords and bugs; a menace who was always ready to prove himself as a Cloud Knight. And besides him? An apprentice from the Alchemy Commission who was always ready to annoy him in his endeavors.

Warnings: Mentions of war, gore, death, there is an NSFW part (when both characters are adults), so fingering, smut, oral

Word count: 11,300+

A loud, cheery voice called out “one, seventeen, five hundred and seventy two,” as a blade swung in the air. The rustle of clothes coming with each move, every practiced hit to a non-existent enemy having a random number sang out into the air to match it. No chirping bird nestled in the trees to be had as the source of the voice had long since scared them all away. “Nine hundred and ninety nine, fifty six!”

And with each shout Jing Yuan was repeating the number he was actually on in his head, trying not to let a certain annoyance distract him as she has done so many times before. (Y/n)’s antics just as familiar as the spot he found himself training in. Cracked stones with bits of moss growing between the once upon a time smooth concrete, a red tree providing shade from the blaring sun, and a bench only five feet away currently supporting a girl with her hands to her mouth, trying to echo out each word.

“Sixty nine! Two thousand one hundred and five!”

Her green dress was tell enough that this girl was from the alchemy commission, but they both already knew that, the details of swirling clouds so unlike the ones above the two providing shade. A shadow cast out over the courtyard helping keep the air just cool enough that a light breeze would have anyone considering fetching a sweater. Well, anyone not in the middle of a training session.

“You are being a nuisance.”

Per usual.

Bringing his sword back up to practice another swing Jing Yuan tried his best to ignore the taunting words just begging him to chase her around the small space, again. “Oh, big word for a little guy. Jingliu teach you that one recently?”

“What if she did? Master is-”

“Three hundred eighty six.”

“Master is-”

“Seventy nine.”

With a clamor Jing Yuan drops his sword in a way one could compare it to a knight getting his weapon knocked out of his hand in the heat of battle. A daunting enemy above him threatening to end his life with their own blade as he scurried to fetch it back in time before that looming presence, a terrifying face about to become the last thing his ten year old self sees. So like a prince charming in a fairy tale, his fingers would grasp the worn down hilt from the shape of his hand just in the knick of time, blocking the enemy’s strike. A triumphant hero. Except it was the complete opposite. The sword just fell to the ground from a slip of Jing Yuan’s fingers.

“Smooth moves, Yuan.”

“If you hadn't distracted me.”

“And what Cloud Knight is supposed to lose his weapon because a chicka said a few words?”

Jing Yuan had to stop himself from biting on the inside of his cheek or maybe even a scoff just so he could get out: “any knight should know that sometimes you will lose your weapon in combat and what really matters is what I do next.”

Like he could grab a hidden dagger! Or….”I could just take the blade of a defeated foe.”

“Like what? Those giant ones the mara use?” (Y/n) held a hand up above her head, waving it in the air to call extra attention to it, a habit from waiting to be called on in class after listening to someone drone on for hours at a time about the medicinal properties of lily of the valley or something of the like. “I've seen those before, and they're taller than both you and I, so good luck! You'd have to spin around in circles just to give the blade any force behind it.”

A small giggle fell from her lips as she pretended to swing a giant blade, mocking the same way she would see Jing Yuan use his own.

‘Just what in the world is she imagining?’

“Just admit it, evolution didn't choose you, short stuff. So you'll just be a knight in training even when you're five hundred years old.”

‘As if!’

Picking his blade back up Jing Yuan slid it away in its designated sheathe with a satisfying click, the glare from the metal no longer reflecting on the ground beneath him as the sun peaked out from behind the clouds. “I told you that I'm going to be taller than you one day. Besides, you're only four inches taller than me, that isn't a lot.”

“I feel like I can make a joke here but it might go over your head.”

“Nope! Nope!” Not wanting to hear it, Jing Yuan smacked his hands to his ears. Maybe it would be enough to block out her shrill voice even as (Y/n) got closer to try and pull them off and out of place. “Just because you had to earn about that stuff for your studies doesn't mean I want to hear it. Not again. Mom already gave me the talk and it was awful!”

“You're such a kid.”

“She was talking about things with things and wouldn't let me leave until I repeated it back to her.” Right after he had run to go try and wash his ears out by dunking his head in the water can outside his home in hopes of the water knocking the words loose.

“You're not helping your case here.”

“It doesn't matter! That stuff like kissing other people the way mom and dad do is so not on my agenda. That can be saved for your princess stories and other girly stuff.”

“Oh yeah?” A little grin curled at the corners of her lips, most likely due to having another retort right on the tip of her tongue. (Y/n) even got out the words “then why are you so huffy over this stuff” before being cut off with little to no mercy by a loud call of her name. A man’s voice shouting for the girl again and again, only drawing nearer with each passing second. “Shit! I-I mean shoot. Shoot.”

Dropping his hands he stood there watching the panic come to her face. Only slightly smug. “Sure you did.”

“You're not helping!”

Quickly her form ran over to the courtyard's many walls, green dress fluttering behind as those little legs scurried around in a panic. Her voice only picked up in speed as (Y/n) tried to get the situation out, and understood, as fast as possible. “Yuan, I have to go right now. I left without permission again.”

‘Of course she did. Probably to get out of those talks about being switched out to advanced classes.’

“Hoist me up!”

“And why should I? You've been doing nothing but trying to get under my skin this entire time.”

Again, another call of her name sounded. Haize’s voice becoming clearer and clearer. A man Jing Yuan had only come across in passing when trying to drag a certain nuisance into playing with him. Or, a better way to put it, (Y/n)’s master.

“You motherf- I'll owe you!” Her hands were scrambling at the bricks on the wall, trying to find just the right ones to use for purchase. As if that's how scaling a flat wall would work, like rock climbing. Sure. “Just help me up or for the Reignbow Arbiter sake!”

He couldn't help the chuckle he was trying, and failing, to fight back from escaping, not with how quickly she did a 180. From teasing the life out of him (per usual) to now looking like she would plead like her life is on the line. Though with master Haize it was hard to tell, he could very well deal out writing the same sentence a thousand times over worse. At least that's one of the lighter one's Jing Yuan has heard about.

‘One shall not leave the alchemy commission without permission’ with each ‘I’ dotted with one of her hastily drawn hearts.

“Why should I? I think this is simply karma.” Despite his words Jing Yuan was already coming over to help, eyes going up and down the wall to figure out the best way to go about it.

“You little- I'll owe you, okay?”

“I know you will.”

And just like those five years ago, when they were both kids running amok trying to help one of them escape from an unjust punishment, (Y/n)’s shoe fell between his interlocked hands to his shoulder as she managed to swing a leg over gray tiles of the walls roofing. Admittedly it was a bit of a blessing that at least this time she didn't have to step on his head to get that proper step up. Last time that left a good mark of dirt in what was otherwise Jing Yuan's pure white hair as she scrambled away with a wide eyes scanning over the courtyard like she was expecting her master to pop out of thin air and a quick “see ya!”

Now though? (Y/n) was looking down at him from up high, her hand held out to help him up to follow her.

“And why are we sneaking into one of the alchemy commissions gardens when you have full access to go here?” This entire thing didn't really make sense to him, but here he was playing along even as the scent of flowers hit Jing Yuan in a way that was comparable to a woman accidently spraying her perfume in your face.

“Because, esteemed Jing Yuan, you're not allowed back here. And we have to do something to celebrate you officially becoming a cloud knight.”

Grabbing her hand the very same ‘esteemed knight’ pulled himself up and along beside her with very little help besides a tug or two to his blue sleeves. The uniform he now gets the privilege to wear with a red ribbon Jing Yuan ties around his waist every morning with pride after years of work and swinging that same blade over and over again. He swears that if he took a moment to just sit there and close his eyes while this menace of a woman jumps down into the garden below that he could feel the grip in his palm.

That is until his eyes shoot open as he hears a grunt and sees her figure kneeling on the ground, one of her hands brushing dirt off her face. Failing at that too, but for now she doesn't need to know that.

“Smooth moves.”

“Shut it.”

Jumping down after her, in a proper landing, Jing Yuan helps her up as (Y/n) huffs.

“But my point still stands, cloud knight.” Knocking a hand against his chest she turned back to the garden before them. An array of colors. Each petal is like a brush stroke on a canvas. “You got to your big goal, so we should celebrate.”

“Many of the other trainees after getting accepted were shooting the breeze with shaoxing glasses in their hands, and you choose a flower field you know like the back of your hand to take me to?”

“Fine, don't appreciate it. But I at least thought it would be nice. It's been a while since you've been allowed back here after you ruined a flower bed.”

“And last I recall you're the one that pushed me into said flower bed.”

“Anyway-” trying and failing to hide her laughter at what was most likely the memory of tripping Jing Yuan straight into a pile of dirt and seeds before her fellow classmates (Y/n) bent down so she could properly look at the blossoms before her. She probably knew every little detail about that flower, but Jing Yuan couldn't place it as anything more than just another pink one.

‘Anyway, she says.’

“Since when did it hurt to stop and smell the roses? Besides, if anyone catches us I'm just here….getting a few herbs I need to dry out for a project I have planned out. The number in my dorm has been dwindling.”

Moving besides her he sat down on the wooden walk set up to make sure no one would repeat his mistake so many years ago of mistaking where the path ended and patch started. At least that's the lie this one who thinks proper decor is bottles full of potions ultimately decided on before their scolding began. Jing Yaun’s boots making a hefty clunk as he settled down.

“And not even a drink to be had?”

“Yuan, wait until you're older. I shouldn't have to go over the repercussions of drinking before your prefrontal lobe has fully matured with you. I'll do it too.” Another huff. “It's very important for you not to touch a drop before your behavioral patterns-”

“Is this you talking or the lessons you've learned, prodigy?”

“Ha. Ha. Ha.”

Plucking one of the flower's petals off she held the fragile thing up, studying the veins as she held it up to the full moon. The only source of proper lighting to be had when neither of you could afford to turn on the ones for the garden without being caught. Who knows what trouble could be had for you two from this even with her supposed foolproof excuse for being here.

“Carnations. You've probably seen a few as decorations at those fancy tea houses, the ones we've seen those Foxian ladies favoring so much. These can be used for their anti-inflammatory properties if you're in short supply of the normal pain meds the commission makes. A poor substitution in my book, but it's best to always have something extra on hand just in case.”

Raising his hands up Jing Yuan brings them together a few times in a short round of applause. She always did look so intense when bent over work tables with mixtures of all sorts at her fingertips, eyebrows knit together just as they are now. “You really do sound like a proper healer when you go off about this. Shame I know you for mainly cussing when you stub your toe.”

“A lady is allowed to express herself!”

“‘Lady.’”

“‘Cloud knight.’”

“You can't use that on me anymore now that it's true.”

It takes a moment, her eyes on him in silence before finally relenting and muttering a short “touche” he almost missed.

Taking the petal from those hands lacking the calloused his have Jing Yuan pinched it softly, trying to view the one little piece of life the same way she seemed to. A well of endless possibilities that could be made into something more than just a woman's perfume. “Say, I think it's time I cash in one of the many favors you owe me.”

“And what favor do I owe you, big guy?”

“Ah, someone's still petty I grew taller than them.” Chuckling Jing Yuan looked up from the petal to a face that still had the slightest smear of dirt on its cheek, barely seen in this lowlight. “What happened to those precious three inches you had on me?”

“It was four.”

“Three inches.”

“Well, it's perfectly normal for a young man to be tall. If anything it's just a sign you were able to grow up strong and healthy despite all the times you slid your fried cabbage on my plate.”

Something she had let him do on multiple occasions as they shared a table at either the alchemy commission when everything was stuffed full of nutrients and seemingly without a sprinkle of sugar or at his family home as Jing Yuan’s mom always slipped them an extra dessert whenever (Y/n) was over.

“Well, uh…”

‘Okay, it seems we're getting off track here.’

“You owe me for helping you escape Haize when you were thirteen.”

“No, I gave you my desserts for a week in recompense. It's been paid off already, Yuan. Try again.”

Huh. Tilting his head at that his eyes rolled up to the star covered sky. The Luofu was on its night cycle meaning they could properly see the galaxy beyond the blue hue and clouds that would be overcast during the day time.

“It's pretty, isn't it?” A hand pushed his shoulder, not nearly enough to knock Jing Yuan down to the wooden path but it had him rocking in place for a moment. Tall but lanky as a certain healer had described him, right after saying he needs to eat more, then he'd properly fill out once he ages up and grows out of the awkward teenage phase. “Just say what you want. I'm fine with you owing me for once.”

“Of course you are.”

And of course he shoved her shoulder right back.

“Can you tell me what it's like to see a mara-struck up close? If I'm to meet one in combat I should know what I'm going into, and master Jingliu can only help so much.”

‘Master has only one perspective.’

“Good to know you're not so over confident that you're rushing into battle with your sword raised for a charge. I didn't know you had a brain in there.”

“Seriously? You- Just back to my question.” Jing Yuan snapped.

“Okay. Fine. Impatient much. The thing is with your question…It's simply not a fair comparison.” She took a moment, eyes going from between him to the flowers that surrounded them. Lavender, marigolds, chrysanthemums, and so so many more. A field. And if he asked Jing Yuan was sure (Y/n) could tell him the scientific names of each one without issue. “The one's I deal with are primed for dissection, not for a fight.”

A sigh.

“But, it's not pleasant. Master had me- let me try again. You know those gingko leaves that tree in the courtyard you used to always train in? How would they slowly turn from green to yellow only to fall off soon after?”

“I would always be tasked with cleaning them up. Part of my ‘due diligence’ and training in patience. I'm pretty sure though it was just master Jingliu not wanting to clean it up herself.”

“Well,” a small giggle came from her at that, “someone needed to do it. And if I caught you sweeping I'd always fetch a broom and spend the afternoon helping you catch up on chores.”

‘And she would always hold it over my head after.’

“I loved gingko leaves when we were younger, because they made me think of you and those moments where we were threatening to hit each other over the head with those old brooms that probably couldn't even handle a single strike. I would pick one out from the dustpan and keep it stored away in one of the many pots in my room. Like they were precious.”

“Is rambling included at this time to stop and smell the roses?” He couldn't help the little grin that came to him, lips quirked up at the edges with absolutely no effort to stop it.

“Don't interrupt me if you're the one who wants an answer. No lecturer wants a student that can't shut their fucking trap.”

“Okay, okay.” Raising his hands in surrender was automatic at this point after hearing just that pissed off voice alone. “Go on, teacher.”

“Thank you. For the Reignbow Arbiter’s sake. So,” (Y/n) clapped her hands together, calling attention to herself despite the fact Jing Yuan was already paying more than enough to her, “back to my point.”

“The thing is…After my first dissection, even with master Haize watching over the entire procedure, I couldn't look at the mara-struck all at once. I was supposed to dissect it like a frog, something I've done dozens of times before, but I couldn't even just take a step back to look at the thing properly. It was a task to be objective.”

‘Couldn't look at them? Was it someone she once knew?’

“When I finally did it was at the end of the process when the master said I could wash off, and there I stood by the sink with those stupid blue rubber gloves covered in the coagulated blood of a dead body and gingko leaves.”

“I couldn't think about them the same way anymore.” Her head dropped. Eyes downcast on the very hands that had cut and opened up what was essentially, or at least should be, a corpse. “The abominations are so different from us, Yuan.”

“I know.”

Even the thought of those creatures could ruin a night like this it seems, one full of their usual antics and trouble seeking habits. The mara-struck, an inevitable fate for all Xianzhou natives if death doesn't take them first.

“Maybe you were right, maybe a drink to go with this night of celebration would have been better. Then we could be cheering about something stupid and-”

His hand was raised, reaching out to her, only stopping midway when (Y/n) glanced up at him with a disapproving stare; most likely for interrupting her or getting caught off track despite all the times she's done so to him. “And you were just getting on my case about it earlier too. Frontal lobe..something or another.” And he wiped the dirt he had been letting stick to her without a word off. The grainy texture is a sharp contrast to her own smooth skin.

“You- how long has that been there without you telling me?”

“Since you fell off the wall.”

“I didn't fall, I jumped.”

“Are you sure about that, prodigy?”

She swatted his hand away, much like she was dealing with a pesky bug flying around near her ear.

“I hope you know that when you get hurt on the field, and you inevitably will because all you knights do at one point, they will bring you back to me. When that happens, I will make sure that whatever injury you acquired will somehow end in my fellow healers being convinced they need to chop one of your limbs off due to risk of infection. You will be at my mercy, Jing Yuan.”

‘Great, another threat.’

She's made hundreds of threats since the moment they met varying from some that had Jing Yuan stumbling over himself in shock to wondering if the best she could do was smack him over the head. Especially when he's still getting taller. Who knows, maybe one of those days she'll have to ask him to lean down for her just to be met with a solid hit to the head. The thought alone had him laughing.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Hey! What's so funny you two bit bitch?”

“You don't need to worry about it.”

Taking one of those pink carnations Jing Yuan plucked the stem from the ground, not bothering to mind the dirt when his fingers were already dusted with it. Fragile petals and a soft hue. It truly was just a flower in his eyes, but somehow it looked like more than that as he tucked it behind (Y/n)’s ear as she scolded him for picking something without permission.

It was two years later Jing Yuan found himself holding a bouquet of the very same flowers after toiling over the best way to do this for hours, but they seemed only fitting. The shop owner he bought them from was nice enough to wrap them in those sheets of paper used for…well, decoration? And a red ribbon much like the very one in his hair.

The only difference being from when he bought them ten minutes ago to now is how the long stems had been wrangled as he clutched them tight in his sweating hand.

And her, staring up at them.

“Happy Luofu alliance day to you too.”

“You're all the way out here instead of joining in on the festivities?”

Papers were scattered all around her like a blanket on the grass, some clearly torn out from their notebooks as pages were frayed at the ends and others were slightly yellowed from years of use and spills of what is most likely more than just coffee stains. Scribbled notes that had Jing Yuan careful not to step on one and leave a footprint behind (for fear of being scolded, again) as he caught glimpses of diagrams, highlighted margins, and sketches of organs as he walked closer to her.

“There will be countless more years to spend in the Dragonvista Rain Hall. For now, I want to spend my one free day organizing my notes.” As she spoke (Y/n) lifted up the notebook that had been on her lap in the air.

“Your ‘one free day’ being a holiday you're required to take off.”

‘Yet here she is working.’

Glancing up Jing Yuan’s eyes fell on the tree she was sitting under. Foliage far from dense enough to keep the occasional sun beam peaking through the leaves as they cast golden rays on her green dress; still wearing her alchemy commission uniform, even now.

“Did you not have to be dragged to classes once kicking and screaming?”

She would even cling onto his arm, shouting for the future cloud knight to protect the poor damsel in distress from the fearsome bad guy. That being Haize as he plucked her up from the ground and carried her out of the courtyard like a disgruntled cat. Jing Yuan’s ear would be ringing for the rest of the day, but it was always worth it seeing her so pissed off after purposefully being a frustrating little brat. Teasing him like no tomorrow.

“Times change, Yuan.” She said, her words full of laughter. “Though, I did see this poster earlier about some foxian theater troupe putting on a performance. Epic of the Old Verdant House, if I remember it right.”

“That explains why we can hear drum chanting all the way out here.”

A melodic beat full of energy that matched the chatter of the crowds down below. From here he could see the lanterns hanging off of every pillar they could and tops of tents full of wares with people being waved in to 'come and see what we're selling, benefactors.’

“Sure does….say, I'm surprised you have the day off. Shouldn't an esteemed cloud knight be going around patrolling the streets to help keep the peace? I thought you'd jump at the chance to try and show your dedication, yet here you are not even in uniform.”

Standing there in everyday wear without a single piece of armor Jing Yuan shifted his hanfu sleeve, the fabric stretching only to fall back as he let go. It wouldn't hinder him, but it certainly wasn't his usual garb.

“I switched out my shift with that kid you helped last week.” Though she had many patients. It wouldn't surprise him if (Y/n) had forgotten about the event entirely. Things do tend to start blurring together when it's the same day after day, or at least that's what she says. “The one who got all bruised up in training, Aiguo?”

She hummed at that, seemingly to take a moment to recall. “The blond? For a cloud knight he sure does bruise easily.”

“He does…” The flowers in his hand were only wrangled up further as this conversation continued. This was besides the point. “So, rewriting your old notes then instead of going to that performance? I might have to grab a rose so you're forced to stop and smell them.”

Her eyes flicked up to him and he had to grip onto those already wrangled stems even harder to keep himself from simply choking the words out in his haste. A few white knuckles were easy enough to stand in favor of making this right.

“It's a better use of my time then watching you try and catch a goldfish at one of those scooping games again. I'm pretty sure by the time you were out of credits to waste away the vendor and I had become dear friends.”

He couldn't help but raise a brow at that. The only reason he was trying so hard in the first place was because only a week before she was forced to get rid of her pet scorpion. Ingredients had been found in her dorm by a supervisor, and after an apparently long meeting, it was determined the thing had to go despite her begging to just let him stay in the alchemy commission.

“It was rigged.” He said, slightly shrugging as he did so.

“All carnival games are rigged. That's the point.”

‘True, but at least it got her laughing. Even if it was at my expense.’

“Or, and hear me out on this, Yuan. It could also be that you just suck.”

“Thank you, so much.”

“Oh you're so very welcome.” Picking some of the sheets of paper up she tucked them between the pages of her notebook. Brand new but it was already covered in dirty fingerprints. No doubt from her collecting samples to tie into the pages as he could already see some of her old notes with a dried out jimson weed (if he recalled the name correctly) pinned down with thin metal wire keeping it in place. “I just don't have the time to do this any other day.”

“So.” stepping in closer to her spot under the tree Jing Yuan kneeled before her, making sure they were eye to eye even if she wasn't paying him the same amount of attention he was her. “If I asked you to come down and watch me struggle to catch you another fish?”

“And do you have the credits to spend on something so lavish?”

“I can spare a few.”

“I…I'm busy. I want to get this done.”

“And I can get you some osmanthus jelly.” Lifting the bouquet up, Jing Yuan held it up to her, the end of the red ribbon softly swaying from the movement. “You preach to me the importance of taking a break but you can't take one yourself?”

“You know I hate when you use my words against-”

And her words were drowned out by the loud sound of an engine, of a starskiff racing on by as fast as it could go. A familiar sound that would normally have Jing Yuan nodding to himself at the sight, taking in the beauty of such skilled piloting, but right now it only had him spitting out hair from his mouth as it whipped right into his face. White filled his vision as papers flew before his very eyes. A specimen of belladonna seen for only a moment before it trailed off, caught in the strong breeze the ship kicked up.

“No! No, no, no!”

Like confetti the notes she had spent years on flew away. Not even her hands snatching to grab anything proved fruitful as she scrambled up to pluck anything from the blue sky. Her fingertips barely grazed a sheet completely covered in yellow marker over the written margins before it fell to the crowd below.

Multiple people down below dressed in their finest attire, the festival masks, and waving their fans to keep cool in the generated heat of the Luofu's system were caught looking up and around them as the notes fell all around them. Ranging from the rooftops to the streets as those years she spent were tread over with little to no care, like they were nothing more than posters advertising something or another, as (Y/n) whined at the sight.

“Fuck!”

As Jing Yuan pulled the last bits of hair from his mouth he could see her flipping off the direction the pilot flew off in, even as it was long gone.

“Fuck you you punk ass bitch! Come back here before I shove a catheter up your dick!”

“Interesting insult.”

Grabbing a sheet of parchment from the branches of the tree, only a few of them stuck in there, Jing Yuan held it out to her.

“I hate this fucking household.”

Sighing Jing Yuan looked back at the paper in his hand as she just pouted at the sight of it. There goes his chance to confess it seems. Another day then.

“Come on prodigy, I'll help you find everything we can. It doesn't matter if it means spending the entire Alliance day peaking into alleyways or climbing over crates.”

“Just another favor I'll owe you.” She grabbed the paper from him as she spoke, fingers going over that messy handwriting that was no doubt scrawled down in a rush to get everything in her mind to a proper record. “Years of work.”

“No, there's no….”

‘No need for a favor.’

“Actually.” The flowers were over by the tree now, forgotten in the midst of what just happened, but did he really need them right now? Sure, this wasn't how Jing Yuan had been wanting this to go down, but what did those hours before the mirror practicing what to say as his friend, a fellow Cloud Knight, mean in retrospect when she was pouting like this? “I'd like to cash in that favor now. I’m going to ask you something and I don't want you to immediately say no. Take your time to think about it.”

“Now that's a big ask.” She said, grip tightening a little bit more to the point the paper started to crinkle under her touch. Maybe she was worried it would grow wings and fly away on her too.

“I know.”

Grabbing her hand, careful to make sure his actions did not tear anything, Jing Yuan squeezed it softly. She had no calluses made from the efforts of swinging a blade, of wielding a weapon. No, they were soft from the amount of lotion she used from always applying some after washing her hands again and again once she was done making some new medication or concoction or another thing of the like. Somehow that made it all the easier to hold her just like this.

“The next Alliance festival, I want to go together not as friends, or two people trying to find your notes, but as eachothers date.”

“No.”

“Now that's not taking your time-”

“Ask me again later, when I'm in a better mood; and pick an event that will happen sooner than a once a year festival.”

‘Oh…. Oh!’

Squeezing her hand a bit tighter Jing Yuan asked: “will you go on a date with me sometime this month? We will have to figure something out between your busy schedule, prodigy.”

“I said, ask me later.”

“Technically it was ‘later,’ just by a few seconds.”

“This is the worst confession I have ever heard and I've seen people proposing on the medical beds when one of them is so drugged they can't even understand what is being said to them.”

After a moment she added in, “you still have to help me find my notes though, then I'll say yes. And I want a better confession too, like in those romance books. Give me a whole speech.”

“Are you seriously asking me to study those girly novels of yours?”

“Yes. Or no dice.”

“I- fine.”

‘To believe that years ago I'd cringe at the thought, but here I am agreeing to it just to satisfy this bossy woman.’

“You're always a headache.”

Later that day, after spending hours combing the city to find every last sheet they could manage, Jing Yuan tied the red ribbon around her pinky, admiring how it showed she was his as (Y/n) told him she'd find the time in her busy schedule to squeeze in one little outing.

And it was that very same hand he tied a ribbon to, that he grasped that day, the very same day he played in his head again and again with a smile that could never leave him at the memory, that is now threaded through Jing Yuan’s hair.

Tugging. Pulling. Unapologetically leaving knots he'd have to comb out later.

“Patience.”

“You've been saying that for the past ten minutes, Yuan.”

The way her voice came out slightly strained had his lips tugging up. Soft little pants he was drawing out of her from those pretty lips he yearned to kiss right now even as his own were sliding along her naked thigh. Tongue just barely lolling out to leave a small lick before retreating once again.

She'd call him a tease. Has been, actually. But Jing Yuan couldn't barely help himself when seeing her like this.

Blankets pushed off to the side and barely hanging off the edge of the bed that was cast in only the low glow of a lamp on a desk nearby. One covered in glass bottles full of things he's been warned not to touch, and he knew well enough to listen. It was enough to have his fingers gleaming as he pulled them away again.

Much to someone's dismay.

“Stop being mean to me. Please.”

Jing Yuan only hummed in response, not minding her begging much as his teeth just barely dug into her skin; the idea of leaving a mark was so, very, tempting. To know that under her skirts in the days to come would be proof of this moment in the dark.

Her thigh tensed in response, muscles flexing before falling back to a relaxed state as his lips ran over the imprints of her underwear he had been pulling and tugging at earlier left. A garment discarded as soon as his head dipped between her thighs, yet here she was urging him to give her more.

‘How greedy.’

But he is too as Jing Yuan’s cock strains against its confines. Fabric he'd usually consider loose, breathable, and easy to move in suddenly betraying him with every shift of his hips against this old mattress. Barely providing anything friction as he breathes in the scent of sex. Of slick. Of her need for him.

Just that alone had his hips bucking forward.

His gaze moved from the way she sucked his fingers in as they slid back inside her with a wet squelch up to those half lidded eyes that flicked between him and the ceiling.

“Yua-”

A chuckle fell from him as she chased after him, her breath hitching and eyes falling closed as his tongue slid between those lips he's never had a proper chance to taste before, and oh what he would do to let those legs wrap around his fluffy white head and eat a meal he's never had before for hours just to find what would make her unravel beneath him.

Would she call his name in those final moments with her toes curled the way they are now? Would she be clinging onto the sheets with a knuckle white grip? Would her chest heave as he watches those breasts still red from being tugged and teased at fall with every breath?

Yes, they were both greedy.

“I know you're doing that on purpose.” She finally managed to say between her whines and attempt to stifle them away under her free hand.

“Am I now?”

That accusatory glance had Jing Yuan curling his fingers over a soft spot that felt different from the rest, spongy even, as he tried his best to act innocent. Not very convincing when his words are muffled by her pussy, but it was a try nonetheless.

“F-fuck…”

“I can't help but think you liked that.”

It was a wonder she wasn't trying to kick him in some way, but maybe that's just because with every movement of his fingers her head was being thrown back into the white covers.

“Where do you…how do you even know where that is?”

“This?” Jing Yuan asked, fingers crooking even more by just the slightest amount to brush over that spot inside of her again.

(Y/n) didn't need to know the real answer to that, not when she wouldn't let him live it down if she ever found out. She'd get on him until his ears turned pink and she'd only make it worse by pinching them and saying something like “oh sweetie, you're looking sick. Maybe we should take your temperature, yeah?”

So no, he'd keep the fact that one of her fellow students in the alchemy commission went around to all the guys he knew were in a relationship during the mess hall. Lunch hour as silverware clattered against those metal food service plates while some young lad with a diagram of all things pointed out…well...where to touch a woman in exchange for a hundred credits in turn.

Money well spent in his opinion if it had her looking at him like that. Glazed over eyes enough to have Jing Yuan wanting to press a kiss to those soft lips. To let her know just how she tastes.

“Maybe I'm just a natural; a prodigy just like you.”

Wouldn't that be nice? To know just where to touch her to have his name cried out like a prayer. The Reignbow Arbiter an afterthought to his fingers, but he was willing to give her the rest of their lives together to figure this out. To have her melt in his embrace on all the nights they will have, just like this one where she sneaked him into her dorms.

The door didn't even creak on their way in.

He didn't even stop to do anything more than lock the door before Jing Yuan had pulled (Y/n) into his arms. Hands playing with the fabric of that green dress as it traced over the

gold accents on her chest all the way up to the clasp keeping it shut as their lips met in hurried kisses. One after another as she tugged him along through the bedroom to help keep those heavy boots of his from accidently kicking and knocking over anything of importance as they found their way between boxes of files to the bed.

Designs of swirling mist made Jing Yuan feel like he was on cloud nine as they slid up her thighs.

She rolled her eyes as he asked about her underwear, wanting to know if it was just for him. If she anticipated this happening and wanted to look her best for him.

The thought was a sweet one.

But right now that pair was tossed off somewhere long forgotten as his face was covered in her slick, and hands forcing her legs apart as she writhed beneath him.

How long could he take without breathing in some more air? The thought only came to Jing Yuan as his ears buzzed the same way they would after staying too long underwater. (Y/n) his lake he would willingly jump in even if it drowned him.

“Pr-prodigy my ass.”

A kiss to her trembling thigh, eyes locking with hers.

“Are you saying I'm not doing a good job?”

“Not at all.”

‘Sure. She's so snarky even like this.’

A whine, a plea for more met him as Jing Yuan pulled his fingers out. The curve of her plush ass he wanted to squeeze and grope at again covered in spittle and arousal just like his mouth.

Maybe if she was in a sane enough mind she'd be saying something like it's been twelve minutes now. That is if she ever got the chance as he kissed her again. Body hovering over hers, taking note of just how small she looked under him.

How easy it was to grab her wrist and pull her flush against him.

Cock brushed against her through those damnable layers of clothes Jing Yuan wore that had his head burying away in her neck to take in the scent of herbs that clung to every piece of clothing she had. Trying to bite back a groan as he did his best not to rock against her in a frenzy, but it was (Y/n) who ran a hand along his bare back and whispered in their small sanctuary of sheets and pillows “we can stop if you're nervous.”

And like an over eager fool he rushed out a no.

“No, I promise I'm fine.”

‘Worried I'll cum in under a minute, but fine.’

“Besides, you made me wait for a full year so I'm not going to pass on this now.”

“Patience,” She teased back. Hand brushing along his cheek that he couldn't help but to press a kiss to. “Besides, it seemed only right to wait until we were both adults.”

“Is this where you lord over the fact you're three years older than me again?”

Though she hasn't done that since he passed her in height, much to a certain someone's annoyance.

“Maybe.”

Tightening his grip on her waist Jing Yuan pulled her impossibly closer. Her warmth, her laugh, her hands tracing the muscles on his back she could surely name off the top of her head like it was nothing, it was all a reminder of how much he held her dear.

“Can we….”

“Start now?” That laugh again, the curl of her lips as she looked up at him through those long lashes she has cursed everytime they ‘betrayed her’ by letting something in her eyes.

“Yes.”

It was as Jing Yuan had tugged those pants down and out of the way that she grabbed his chin to lead him into a kiss. The taste of her still there, still lingering as her lips parted into a moan as for the first time it was his cock that filled her. That they were intertwined in a way that would make the Aeons themselves blush.

And it was in that moment as his hips moved to meet hers with a wet squelch that had him biting his lip not to moan too loudly and give away what they were doing to any of her neighbors in the dorms did the words I love you fill the air.

Her hands in Jing Yuan’s hair as she whispered them right back.

I love you.

That's what she said to him as the wind whipped around from an awaiting ship. Luggage in her hand as she looked back between the people on board who were walking back and forth from the dock to a place Jing Yuan couldn't see with wooden crates full of provisions. Old nails clearly being the only things keeping the boxes together as he watched the cloud knights assigned to this mission just like she was.

Blue armor much like his own, but he wasn't one of the few that were chosen for this. No, (Y/n) was. A healer is always needed.

“I shouldn't even be gone long. At most maybe a year. Maybe two.”

Far from long in the eyes of a Xianzhou native, that's for sure. The denizens of the Luofu had their lives tick by as the humans who came to the ship for trade and sightseeing grew old and suddenly stopped showing up. All due to a very obvious conclusion. But two years without her?

“Why wasn't it someone else assigned? There's always Aihan.”

“That girl? She still gets squirmish during autopsies.”

Meaning no can do.

The stomping of boots continued as men tread back and forth. Some of the knights even stopped to give Jing Yuan a respectful nod or even a wave before continuing on with their task. His brothers in arms despite the fact he wasn't going to be besides them on the field this time.

“Besides, it's only Yaguoret. This should all be wrapped up quickly. At least compared to the thirty year missions some people are assigned to.”

A shrug, like this, wasn't a big deal at all despite the fact they both have been on a battlefield now. They both knew what it was like.

“Look Yuan, I'll be back in two years at max and when I arrive in your awaiting arms,” her hand slid along the blue fabric of his uniform, playing with the material she had sewed back together for his time and time again, “you can keep me all to yourself for a week. Just you, I, cute dates or… other things.”

“Two weeks.”

“One and a half.”

“Two weeks, prodigy.”

The two stared at each other for a moment before she finally sighed, shoulders dropping for only a moment.

“Fine, two weeks. I'll be all yours.”

Grabbing her hand, Jing Yuan locks their pinkies together. Silly, childish really, but it always worked when they were younger. Though it was mainly her wrangling him into compliance.

“Promise me.”

“I-I…..promise.”

So why was he now sitting in her room staring up at Jingliu listening to his master say something he never thought would be uttered?

The file boxes had been taken away, the bottles that had once reflected his own golden eyes back to him as Jing Yuan asked about the contents now missing, even the terrarium for Ingredients (Y/n) never bothered to get rid of was gone like it never existed in the first place. The dorm room is bare, hollow of the personality it had accrued over years of use.

Photos of them ripped from the walls leaving dark squares from the sun aging the wallpaper that once framed those cherished memories.

“What do you mean she's been exiled?”

“I mean exactly what I say, Jing Yuan. Miss (Y/n) of the alchemy commission, student to cauldron master Haize, has been exiled from the Luofu.”

Jingliu's hand moved to rest on the empty desk, brushing over the dust that had accumulated during the past three months that no one had properly cleaned this room. It was always something he intended to do, to keep up with making sure this place was as spotless as he could make it so she wouldn't come back to dust bunnies and a fit of sneezes, but work had been suddenly thrown onto him like something was amiss. Something massive had obviously happened, but he knew better than to ask when every time those who talked about it would shut their mouths the second even a wisp of his hair was seen.

“The fact she wasn't sentenced to death is a surprise.”

Because of course no one would want to talk to him about his own partner being….

“This is a mistake!”

Getting up from bed that creaked under him from the sudden movement Jing Yuan stood before his master, eyebrows pinched together to keep himself from outwardly scowling at the woman he owes so much to after years of training with the sword.

“You know her just as well as I do! She never would have hurt anyone like this.”

“When I knew (Y/n) best was when she was a fledgling. A kid, just as you are now. Letting your emotions blind your view of the truth will do nothing to help you.”

“I've known her for fifteen years. There's no way the same woman I know who takes spiders outside after finding them would be capable of murdering a hundred knights.”

(Y/n) can't even hold a sword properly. She is a healer, a woman who makes mixtures and applies bandages. Who presses kisses to his wounds as Jing Yuan tries to brush them off like they're nothing to avoid the bitter sting of hydrogen peroxide she would mercilessly apply to him with a smile like nothing was wrong. A woman like that holds no contest to men trained for combat. Some of those men that were sent out even had hundreds of years under their belt.

“Even if she poisoned them?”

Jing Yuan hissed out a breath at that, jaw tensed just the same way it would when the antiseptic met his braised skin.

“She's…she may be capable but that doesn't mean-”

“After the soldiers died the effects started to show in the village people that lived on Yaguoret. Even cauldron master Haize said it was the same symptoms the corpses of the cloud knights seemed to have gone through.”

Jingliu pulled her hand back from the desk, a small coating of dust on her fingers she brushed off.

“Haize has done everything he can with what he has, but the people native to that planet keep dropping faster than he can try and make new remedies.”

The two stared at each other for a moment, like Jingliu was waiting for Jing Yuan to finish what she was trying to say himself, but he bit his tongue. Refused to use it. He wouldn't say the words aloud.

“Only your partner would know the best way to go about making a poison that her own master could not find an antidote, or whatever those alchemy commission bunch need, to stop this issue in time.”

“The elders have decided this will be written off as a plague. That will be what is documented as to keep Haize from having his position looked at with suspicion, but he will be on thin ice from here on.”

What Jingliu wasn't saying is: it's a wonder the man is keeping his job at all.

“This isn't possible.”

‘She wouldn't do anything to risk her…and the promise.’

As it felt like his chest was being clawed at by an invisible hand winding its way through his mouth, past Jing Yuan throat, and ripping his lungs apart to grasp at his heart Jingliu placed a letter in his lap. The envelope it was in clearly had been torn open, but it was his name on the white parchment with the ‘I’ dotted with a heart.

Somehow the sight of it made it even harder to breathe.

“She left this behind for you, clearly. When they were cleaning out her room trying to find evidence that was stumbled upon.”

That would explain why her room is so empty.

The words why is it open then we're right on the tip of his tongue, but they both already knew the answer to that.

“Do you know its contents?”

Jingliu nodded at that, not saying a word as her red eyes flicked down to the torn apart packaging of something that was supposed to be meant for only him.

“Does it mention…”

‘Does it mention why?’

“It's best you read it yourself if you want to know.”

It was the force of habit alone that had Jing Yuan nodding as he was given one last glance by his master before she left him alone. Most likely he can process this thing on his own, but just the sight of it, the idea of what's inside, made him feel sick. Hell, he was half tempted to burn it and throw the ashes of what's left out the window so he can watch them dance on the wind the same way those specimens of belladonna and jimson weed got carried away.

Swallowing down the taste of bile licking at his tongue, Jing Yuan folded up the envelope and tucked it away in his uniform.

That… can be saved for another day.

A day for centuries later.

A day for when he was stopped short as a bird flew down and nestled upon the crook between his shoulder and golden armor piece strapped down to Jing Yuan's arm. Little chirps filled his ears as he walked through the streets of the Luofu. Sing song, a perfect background to his afternoon stroll as the few people he passed by on this path he's memorized after years of use bowed their heads.

Surely, if it wasn't for the upkeep on the potholes or cracks in the sidewalk he would have worn the shape of his boots into the white concrete long ago.

Another chirp and Jing Yuan looked down at the red beaked creature with a lazy smile. These things were always so comfortable with him, to the point he's even gotten a few comments from Fu Xuan about being a Disney princess. Something he just nods along with without complaint.

It was amusing how much his acceptance seemed to annoy her.

“Now, now, if you're too loud you might make this old man lose even more of his heari….”

His hearing.

But there he was stopped short, one foot in the air waiting to follow along the path only he knows the exact details of even as people try to record the goings and happenings of the Dozing General. Frozen in space, in time, like it was ice that kept him stock still and not a single image that came onto one of those many blue screens depicting today's news.

The words wanted written right under the white and red pictures of Blade, Kafka, and a woman Jing Yuan never thought he'd see again.

That old ache blooming in his chest again like a flower in a patch of dirt just waiting to be watered as her eyes were revealed to him. Even in a drawing meant to capture her image they never changed.

Teasin, inquisitive, and seemingly filled with thoughts he never had the neverending years to dig into like he was planting his own garden.

Wanted Stellaron Hunters.

Turning on his heel the bird that was nestled against him flew off, its wings flapping away as it took flight, and he was left to stride out of Starskiff Haven with his boots thudding their way back to the Seat of Divine Foresight as Jing Yuan tried with all his restraint not to break out into a full out run.

“You're dismissed,” is all he said as he entered those old walls, loud and clear for everyone inside to hear.

Heads turned his way, some immediately moved to leave, and the blond rascal of a kid he was so fond of came up to him only to hold his tongue as he saw the look on Jing Yuan’s face. A “very well, general,” threw his way as Yanqing followed everyone else out.

Jing Yuan didn't even notice the glance back to him as the doors shut.

Now it was just him standing there on the giant board surrounded by blue holograms, banners hanging from the beams up above, scrolls stored away in their exact places, and the lion statues he himself commissioned to be built in this place.

All alone.

Just like he was with a letter he never wanted to read as his feet carried him to that desk he hovers over day after day. Fingers moving along the smooth bottom to press a button that forced a drawer open. Thin, barely able to contain anything at all. When he first got this piece and requested such an addition the odd looks didn't bother him much, not when the carpenter didn't need to know what it was for. As far as he cared the simple phrase ‘official documents’ would have held enough weight.

But it wasn't some folder filled with the Xianzhou Luofu's darkest secrets, well, not fully anyway. Rather, it was a torn open envelope and the messy scrawl of his name.

‘Jing Yuan’ staring back at him.

Even after all these years later and his memories fade in favor of a blanket of mist keeping all those years locked away, he knew well enough she didn't like to refer to him that way.

It was Yuan.

It was her Yuan.

The paper felt odd in his hands, despite the amount of times he's pulled it out and debated opening the thing before it fades away to dust, like it was brand new. A clean sheet of paper despite it no doubt having passed through multiple hands before something that was rightfully his possession fell into his grasp for the first time. Fingers teasing over the ripped envelope as he pushed it aside and pulled out a folded note.

It wouldn't be too late to back out now, just how he has done a hundred times before as he failed to bite the bullet even his old master was able to, but then the image of her flashed in his mind again. The wanted poster was an accurate portrait, but it still felt like a character compared to the memories that were like a migraine that never ceased to ache.

‘Evolution didn't choose you, short stuff.’

‘Since when did it hurt to stop and smell the roses?’

‘I don't care if I'm busy, I'll find the time to go on that date with you. I promise.’

‘I love you.’

‘I'll be back in two years.’

A whirlwind of moments together, of her words, that had him just barely creasing the note.

The thought that she promised to come back quickly buried away as he, for the first time, unfolded the note he's kept all these years without her by his side.

‘Dear Yuan,

I have drafted this letter over ten times now and I can't quite seem to get the beginning of this right, so I think it's best just to get into the thick of things. You agree, yes? I hope you do.

I'm sure the news of what has happened (or is about to happen, if you're looking from my point of view) has reached you now. Is this a shock beyond words or did a part of you know this was going to happen? We do tend to let our unconscious selves be quieted and hushed away by emotions. Such is the way of any sentient creature whose instincts do not drive them. But you cannot look me in the eyes and tell me this was not something you would fully deny being something I am capable of if you weren't driven right now by what I can only guess is…betrayal.

I didn't mean to be your first heartbreak, my Yuan. No, I never wanted that at all. I wanted things to stay just the way they were when you'd take that wooden sword of yours when Jingliu hadn't yet given you permission to wield a real one and chase me around with it because I teased you too much. Or maybe back when we would turn rocks over a day after it rained so we can try and find bugs together.

Oh Yuan, I could list countless moments I wish time had chosen to freeze us both in so this outcome never had to come to pass.

But it did.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm not sorry for my actions.’

The words ‘I can't afford to be’ were crossed out.

‘Do you remember that night when we snuck into the gardens? I do. Very well at that. I hope you do too, just for different reasons. That night to me was being with you, of enjoying our time, until you brought up the mara-struck. Those creatures that plague us all at the end of our lives like a withering flower bound to end up as nothing more than a husk of itself as its body is preserved much like that one I keep with a red ribbon tied around it (the one you gave me when you tried to ask me out like a bumbling mess) pressed between pages as it's currently being used as a bookmark. The abominations, they have made me realize something you might not have yet.

Maybe those three years I have on you really do mean more than I would care to admit. Maybe in three years time when you are at the age I am now you'll realize this for yourself too. This war is never going to end. This war will taint what is beautiful in the world. We were blessed to have a loll in the time we were growing up, but that is only because of the sacrifices of many given for such peace.

But still, many died when our eyes were blinded by youth.

And when the battles did come you were a guard on some street in the Luofu as I was called out of my dorm to treat the few men who came back from their efforts in the middle of the night. Blearly, I was lacking sleep, but I did my job just as I always have. That is what I told myself when I had to dissect my first body at the age of fifteen. ‘Do your job, girly’ despite the fact I was surrounded by those older than me and even they cringed as Haize yanked some pubic hair from a corpse to store into a plastic bottle for proper collection.

It took a while for them to forget this thing before them, this hunk of meat, was dead and therefore couldn't feel pain. It took me a while too.

Back to the men…They would come in covered in blood, scratches that were left by creatures I never would have dreamed of existing before until they told me about them as I figured out all on my own how to detach a chewed up limb from a man without making it too painful.

They still passed out in the end.

One day you will know war, you will know what it's like to be on the battlefield for more than a skirmish, you will know the smell of the dead as all their bowels release and the smell of shit fills the air, just as I do now after having been called to be a medic in those poorly put up tents behind the fighting men.

Yet I don't want people to have to know about war. I don't want you to know about war despite you jumping at every chance to prove yourself as a Cloud Knight. I don't want those people of Yaguoret to know about war as we descended on their planet. But it is inevitable. They are a poor people who know little of what to do with the land they possess, and we are a civilization that sees their planet for the resources it has.

It was already discussed after the first talks with the people there after they turned away our offers of trade that they needed to be…wiped out.

Children, mothers, fathers who can't even put up a proper fight, let alone to a Cloud Knight.

So if you are wondering if I killed our men, the very people we talked with in the mess hall, or annoyed on the training grounds, or that I bandaged in the past, then I have to tell you I will.

They won't survive, of course they won't. What kind of prodigy would I be if I couldn't make a simple poison that would properly kill a man? Or a good hundred.

Sorry, I shouldn't be making jokes now. Force of habit.

There will be no war if the people trying to make a war are dead.

There is no way to enact change without sacrifices. That is how medicine is made. First someone must come to you with an issue, a sickness, and it is their loss of life that allows you to test the boundaries of this illness.

But that doesn't change the fact that I will soon become a murderer.

Somehow I am calm, at ease, yet the most scared I have ever been in my life.

But I have cast aside my alchemy commission uniform. Green never was my color.

I am no longer a healer. A murderer cannot claim that title.

So, as I said before, I won't apologize for my actions, but I'm sorry I had to face this world before you did, to come to my own conclusions. I can't help but wonder if I was younger, if I didn't have those three years on you, if we could find our own conclusions together. Ones that we could support side by side that wouldn't result in this.

I suppose what I'm trying to say is-’

And the last words, with a dried teardrop smearing the letters so they were barely legible as Jing Yuan had to narrow his eyes to read.

‘I am sorry I grew up without you.’

#jing yuan x reader #jing yuan #hoyoverse #hsr #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #fem reader #x reader #steamy #hsr x you #honkai star rail x you #honkai sr x you #smut #banner by cafekitsune

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alyrasturnz · 4 months ago

Note

can you make a sad matt blurb about reader having a miscarriage?

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎SHATTERED DREAMS

❐ summary » the bond between a mother and her child is a force of nature, unyielding and profound. yet, the anguish that engulfs a mother upon losing her child is an abyss of sorrow, a pain that defies the very essence of strength. it's a heart-wrenching paradox, where the depth of love amplifies the depth of grief, creating an emotional chasm that words can scarcely encompass.

❐ pairings » husband!matt x fem!reader

❐ warnings » miscarriage, angst, mentions of the hospital

❐ a/n && w/c » lowkey shed a few tears writing this • 3.53k

as the evening sun dips below the horizon, it stretches its golden fingers through the windows, casting elongated shadows that dance across your living room. you find yourself perched on the edge of the couch, a cup of tea nestled in your grasp, its warmth fading with each passing moment. an almost palpable sense of unease lingers in the air, weaving itself into the very fabric of the room, a whisper of discomfort that you can't quite decipher.

the discomfort in your gut swiftly morphed into a searing pain, causing you to wince involuntarily. it felt as though an invisible hand had twisted your insides, each movement sending sharp, relentless stabs through your abdomen.

you decide to head to the bathroom, hoping that the solitude and the cool splash of water might clear your mind. perhaps, you think, it could wash away the layers of anxiety that have been steadily accumulating throughout the day, like dust settling on a forgotten shelf.

as you step inside and close the door behind you, your eyes are drawn to a small, ominous stain of blood on your underwear. your heart seems to halt in its rhythm, a cold grip of fear tightening around your chest. the sight sends a shiver down your spine, the implications swirling in your mind like a dark storm.

the sight of the blood sends a wave of panic crashing through you, your mind spiraling with a thousand terrible possibilities. you struggle to maintain a facade of calm, whispering reassurances to yourself that it might be nothing, yet a deep, gnawing certainty tells you that something is profoundly wrong.

you hastily clean yourself up, your hands trembling as you fumble for your phone. with shaking fingers, you dial your doctor's number, your mind a whirlwind of disjointed thoughts, barely able to focus on the task at hand.

each second stretches into an eternity, the uncertainty gnawing at your very core, making it difficult to draw a steady breath. when the doctor's voice finally breaks through the silence, you can scarcely find the words, your voice quivering with an almost palpable dread.

“i found blood on my... underwear,” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. the silence on the other end of the line is deafening, and you can almost feel the doctor weighing her words carefully. she asks you a few questions, her tone gentle yet serious, and you answer as best as you can, your mind still reeling from the shock.

after what feels like an eternity, the doctor speaks again, her voice laced with a somber gravity. “i'm sorry, but based on what you've described, it sounds like you might be experiencing a miscarriage. i need you to come in as soon as possible.” the weight of their words hangs heavy in the air, each syllable sinking into your heart like a stone, the reality of the situation slowly unraveling before you.

the words hit you like a tidal wave, the world around you blurring as you struggle to process what you've just heard. you sink to the floor, the phone slipping from your grasp, tears cascading down your face in relentless streams.

the dreams you cherished, the plans you meticulously crafted, all dissolve into a painful void as you grapple with the overwhelming grief that now envelops you. every heartbeat echoes with the ache of shattered hopes, and the room, once filled with the warmth of your aspirations, now feels cold and indifferent.

as the reality of the doctor's words settles in, you find yourself adrift in a sea of sorrow, each wave pulling you deeper into the abyss of despair.

you immediately grabbed your purse and dashed out of the house, your heart pounding in your chest. with trembling hands, you fumbled with your keys before finally getting into your car. the engine roared to life, and you sped down the streets, your mind racing as fast as the vehicle, every second feeling like an eternity as you rushed to the hospital.

you felt a sense of fear gnaw at your very being, a relentless anxiety that seemed to consume you from the inside out. your mind was a whirlwind of dark possibilities, each one more terrifying than the last. you couldn't bear the thought of something happening to your baby, the mere idea sending shivers down your spine and tightening the grip of dread around your heart.

when you arrived, you didn't hesitate for a moment. you immediately sprang out of your car, the door slamming shut behind you with a resounding echo that reverberated through the parking garage. the urgency of the situation propelled you forward, your footsteps quick and determined as you dashed towards the hospital entrance, the weight of your fears heavy on your shoulders.

your heart pounded with an almost unbearable intensity, each beat a stark reminder of the fear coursing through your veins. the sterile smell of the hospital, mingling with the cold, clinical atmosphere, only served to heighten your anxiety. every antiseptic scent and every stark, white surface seemed to amplify the dread that gripped your soul, making the air feel heavy and suffocating.

you sat alone in the waiting room, the incessant ticking of the clock mirroring the frantic rhythm of your racing heart. the walls seemed to close in on you, their oppressive presence amplifying the suffocating silence that was almost deafening. every second stretched into an eternity, the stillness of the room magnifying the turmoil within your soul.

the doctor had finally called you in, breaking the agonizing wait. you immediately rose from your seat, your movements swift and purposeful, as you walked into the office. each step felt heavy with anticipation, the gravity of the moment weighing on your every stride.

you sit down in front of the doctor, her eyes brimming with a mixture of concern and understanding that seemed to pierce through the tension in the room. "can you tell me about the symptoms you've been experiencing?" she asks, her voice gentle and soothing, as if trying to ease the weight of your worries with her empathetic tone.

you take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts before you begin to explain. "i've been experiencing some bleeding and cramping," you say, your voice trembling slightly. "it started a few days ago and hasn't stopped." each word feels heavy, laden with the anxiety and uncertainty that has been gnawing at you.

the doctor nods, her expression one of focused attentiveness. "how heavy has the bleeding been?" she inquires, her tone measured and deliberate. "and are the cramps constant, or do they come and go?” her questions are precise, each one delicately probing the depths of your discomfort.

"the bleeding is more than just spotting, but not as heavy as a period," you reply, your voice tinged with unease. "the cramps come and go, but they're quite painful." each word you utter feels like a small release of the tension that's been building inside you, as you lay bare the nuances of your symptoms.

"i understand," the doctor says softly, her voice a gentle balm to your frayed nerves. "have you noticed any tissue passing?" she inquires, her eyes searching yours for any sign that might provide further insight into your condition.

you think for a moment, gathering your thoughts before responding. "yes, i did notice some tissue," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "it was small and grayish." the memory of it sends a shiver down your spine, the image lingering in your mind like a shadow.

the doctor takes a moment, her eyes reflecting a mix of empathy and professionalism. "i'm sorry you're going through this," she says softly. "we'll need to conduct a pelvic exam to determine if your cervix is opening or if there's any remaining tissue. is that okay with you?" her words are gentle, yet carry the weight of necessity, each one carefully chosen to convey both concern and the importance of the next steps.

you nod, a tumultuous blend of anxiety and relief coursing through you. "yes, that's okay," you murmur, your voice tinged with apprehension yet underlined by a quiet resolve.

“alright then,” the doctor says, their voice steady and reassuring, a calm anchor in the storm of your emotions. "we'll also perform an ultrasound to check for the baby's heartbeat and development. in addition, we'll take some blood tests to measure your hCG levels. this comprehensive approach will help us understand what's happening and guide us in providing the best care for you."

you nod once more, feeling a wave of appreciation for their calm and compassionate approach. "okay, let's do it," you say, your voice steadying as you draw strength from their reassurance.

the doctor smiles gently, their eyes reflecting a warm reassurance. "we'll take good care of you," they say, their voice imbued with a comforting steadiness. "let's get started."

»--•--«

after the tests are done, the doctor returns to your side, her expression thoughtful yet kind. "we've completed the pelvic exam, ultrasound, and blood tests," she begins, her voice carrying a gentle gravity. "i know this has been a lot to go through, and i truly appreciate your patience throughout this process."

you nod, feeling a complex mix of exhaustion and anxiety swirling within you. "what did you find out?" you ask, your voice tinged with a quiet urgency.

the doctor takes a deep breath before speaking, her eyes reflecting a profound empathy. "the ultrasound revealed that there is no heartbeat, and your cervix is beginning to open," she says, her voice gentle yet steady. "the blood tests confirm that your hCG levels are dropping. i'm deeply sorry to inform you, but it appears you are experiencing a miscarriage."

the words hit you with the force of a tidal wave, and an overwhelming wave of sadness washes over you. the doctor places a comforting hand on your shoulder, her touch a small anchor in the storm. "i know this is incredibly difficult to hear," she says softly. "we'll discuss the next steps and ensure you have all the support you need during this challenging time."

you nod, your voice barely above a whisper, trembling with a mix of uncertainty and sorrow. "what do i need to do now?" you ask, the words escaping your lips like fragile whispers in the wind.

the doctor explains gently, her voice a soothing balm to your raw emotions. "we have a few options," she begins. "sometimes the body will naturally pass the tissue on its own, but we can also use medication to help expedite the process. in certain cases, a minor surgical procedure called a dilation and curettage (D&C) might be necessary. we'll take the time to discuss which option feels right for you and ensure you are fully supported throughout."

you take a deep breath, struggling to process the torrent of information and emotions swirling within you. "i'll need some time to think about it," you say, your voice tinged with both hesitation and resolve.

"of course," the doctor replies softly, her voice a gentle whisper of reassurance. "take all the time you need. we're here for you, and we'll support you through every step of this process, ensuring you're never alone in this journey."

you nod, feeling a small measure of comfort in her words, like a warm blanket on a cold night. "thank you," you murmur, your voice carrying a blend of gratitude and vulnerability.

as you sit there, the room feels heavy with unspoken emotions, each breath laden with the weight of the moment. the doctor's eyes meet yours, her gaze steady and compassionate. "it's important to take care of yourself during this time. lean on your loved ones for support, and don't hesitate to reach out to us if you have any questions or need anything."

you nod once more, feeling a tear slip down your cheek, tracing a path of sorrow. "i will," you whisper, your voice trembling. "i just... i never thought this would happen."

the doctor squeezes your shoulder gently, her touch a comforting anchor in the storm. "it's a heartbreaking experience, and it's okay to grieve," she says, her voice a soothing balm. "everyone's journey through this is different, and there's no right or wrong way to feel."

you take a deep breath, feeling the weight of her words settle within you. "thank you for understanding," you say, your voice barely above a whisper, laden with gratitude and sorrow.

the doctor stands, her presence a quiet reassurance. "i'll give you some privacy now," she says softly, allowing you a moment to gather your thoughts. "when you're ready, we can discuss the next steps in more detail."

you watch as she leaves the room, her footsteps a fading echo. a mix of sorrow and relief washes over you, intertwining like the strands of an intricate tapestry. the path ahead seems shrouded in uncertainty, yet a glimmer of solace resides in the knowledge that you are not facing it alone.

»--•--«

you stood in the kitchen, stirring the pasta in a rhythmic, almost mechanical motion. tears streamed down your face, each one a silent testament to the grief that clung to your heart. the memory of your miscarriage loomed large, an unshakable shadow that clouded every thought and movement.

you both had envisioned a different reality, one filled with laughter, tiny footsteps, and the joy of nurturing a new life. instead, you were left grappling with the heart-wrenching void, questioning the fairness of a world that could give so much hope only to take it away. it wasn’t fair, and the weight of that unfairness pressed heavily upon your spirits, leaving you to navigate the murky waters of grief and loss together.

the scales of justice seemed to have been tipped against you. it was an unfathomable cruelty that your baby, so full of potential and promise, was taken in such a manner. the dreams and aspirations you had for that precious life, the myriad of possibilities that could have unfolded, were unjustly extinguished before they even had a chance to bloom.

“i’m home!” matt announced, his voice echoing through the hallway as he gently closed the door behind him. he casually tossed his bag onto the couch, the weight of the day visibly lifting from his shoulders, and made his way towards you with a warm, familiar smile.

"hi baby," he whispered, a tender smile playing on his lips as his arms snaked around your waist. his hand found its way to your stomach, caressing it gently, a gesture meant to comfort but only serving to deepen the ache in your heart.

he buried his face into the crook of your neck, planting soft, lingering kisses. “how are my two babies doing?” he chuckled softly, his voice a tender blend of affection and humor. the words, meant to be endearing, caused your emotional defenses to crumble, the weight of his love and your own heartache intertwining painfully.

you put the spoon down, a pathetic sob escaping your lips, shattering the silence. matt immediately halted his actions, his eyes snapping up to meet yours, concern etched deeply into his features.

“hey, hey,” he murmurs, gently turning you to face him, his hands coming up to cup your face with tender care. “what’s wrong, hm?” he asks softly, his thumb tracing the contours of your features, his eyes searching yours for the source of your distress.

you shook your head, leaning deeper into his touch, the tears still streaming down your face like a relentless river. his warmth was a fragile solace, yet it couldn't stem the flow of your sorrow.

“matt,” you whispered, your voice breaking as you struggled to steady yourself. “i... i lost the baby.” the words tumbled out, each one heavy with the weight of your grief, your voice a fragile echo of the heartbreak that consumed you.

his eyes widened, the color draining from his face. “what? no, no, that can't be,” he stammered, his hands trembling as they held your face. “when? how?” his voice was a mixture of disbelief and desperation, searching your eyes for answers that seemed too cruel to be true.

you couldn't hold back the sobs any longer, collapsing into his chest. “it happened this morning. i tried to call you, but you were in the meeting. i didn’t want to leave a message like that.” your voice was barely a whisper, each word laced with the agony of the morning's events, your tears soaking into his shirt as you clung to him for support.

matt's arms tightened around you, his own tears falling silently. “oh, god, y/n, i’m so sorry. i should have been here. i should have...” his voice cracked under the weight of his guilt, each word a testament to the anguish he felt for not being by your side when you needed him most. his tears mingled with yours, a silent promise of shared sorrow and unspoken regret.

you shook your head, clutching his shirt. “there was nothing you could have done. it just happened.” your voice, though filled with sorrow, sought to absolve him of the guilt he carried, knowing deep down that fate had spun its cruel thread beyond anyone's control.

he pulled you closer, his voice a choked whisper. “we’ll get through this together, i promise. i love you so much.” his words, though strained, carried the weight of his unwavering commitment, each syllable a desperate plea to hold onto the love that bound you both in this storm of sorrow.

the two of you stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, sharing the weight of a loss that words could never fully capture. the silence between you was profound, a testament to the shared grief that transcended verbal expression, each heartbeat a silent acknowledgment of the deep, unspoken bond forged in the crucible of your shared pain.

as the minutes passed, the silence between you grew heavy, each breath a reminder of the emptiness that now filled your hearts. matt's fingers gently traced patterns on your back, trying to soothe the unsoothable.

“i keep thinking about the nursery,” he finally whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “we were so close to finishing it.” the unspoken dreams and hopes that room represented now hung in the air like a specter, and his words were laced with a poignant mix of love and sorrow, each syllable a painful reminder of what could have been.

you nodded, your tears soaking into his shirt. “i know. i was just looking at the crib yesterday, imagining...” your voice trailed off, choked by the weight of unspoken dreams and the cruel reality that had shattered them. each tear that fell was a silent testament to the myriad of hopes and visions that now lay in fragments, scattered like fragile pieces of a once-bright future.

your voice broke again, and matt held you tighter, his own tears mingling with yours. “we’ll find a way to honor them,” he said softly. “somehow, we’ll keep their memory alive.” his words, though whispered, carried the weight of a solemn vow, each tear a testament to the profound love and grief that bound you both.

time seemed to stretch and compress all at once. you could hear the distant hum of the city outside, life continuing as if nothing had changed. but for you, everything had. matt's hand found yours, squeezing it gently. "remember the first time we found out?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "we were so scared, and yet so happy." his words, laden with a bittersweet nostalgia, transported you back to that moment of fragile joy and tentative hope.

you managed a small, sad smile. "i remember. we stayed up all night talking about names and dreams." your voice, though tinged with sorrow, carried the echoes of those long, hopeful conversations.

each name and dream you had whispered into the night now seemed like distant stars, their light dimmed but not extinguished. the memory of those hours, filled with laughter and anticipation, stood in stark contrast to the present, a poignant reminder of the fragile beauty of hope.

matt's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "those dreams aren't gone, y/n. they're just... different now. we'll dream new dreams, together." his voice trembled with a mix of lingering sorrow and resilient hope, each word a delicate thread weaving a new tapestry of possibilities.

you leaned your head against his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his presence. "i don't know how to move forward from this, matt. it hurts so much." your voice, barely above a whisper, carried the weight of your anguish, each word trembling with raw emotion.

the warmth of his presence was a fragile anchor in the storm of your sorrow, a small solace amidst the overwhelming pain. as you nestled closer, the unspoken understanding between you deepened, a silent acknowledgment of the shared burden and the uncertain path ahead.

he kissed the top of your head, his voice tender and resolute. "we'll take it one day at a time. some days will be harder than others, but we'll face them together. we have to believe that there's still light ahead, even if it's hard to see right now."

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mononijikayu · 2 months ago

Text

choice — erwin smith.

‘If I were on the verge of death this mission… Y/N, let me face it and rest.’ She could still feel the warmth of his hand on her cheek, his thumb brushing against her skin with a gentleness that belied the harsh reality of their world. She had taken his hand in hers, squeezing it tightly, holding onto him, holding onto the promise she had made. ‘Promise me.’

GENRE: alternate universe - canon divergence;

WARNING/S: manga spoilers chapter 84 (midnight sun), angst, romance, hurt/comfort, canon character death, crying, hurt, sadness, remembering memories, grief, fighting, canon related violence, depiction of implied romantic relationship, depictions of character death, depiction of grief, depiction of canon related violence, depiction of canon character death, depiction of hurt, depiction of blood and injuries mention of memories, mention of relationship, mention of blood and injuries, commander erwin!, scout! reader;

WORD COUNT: 4.6k words

NOTE: i found my erwin fics and decided to rewrite them for publication, so i hope you enjoy them. its a really good one, i think. and it's a rare call back to my time with aot!!! please look forward to me branching out to other stories again. i'll publish something jjk tomorrow too!!! thank you so much for reading, i love you <3

EVERYTHING WAS A BLUR. Levi's hand trembled slightly as he gripped the serum, his fingers curled tightly around the vial, knuckles white from the strain. The tension was palpable in the air, an invisible force pressing down on everyone in the room.

Hanji, their expression torn between determination and desperation, struggled to restrain Mikasa, whose eyes were blazing with fury and anguish. Mikasa strained against her hold, her voice a mix of pleading and anger, begging Levi to make a different choice. Her cries cut through the stillness like shards of glass.

Floch, across the room, had Eren pinned against the wall, his hands gripping Eren's shoulders tightly as if afraid he might bolt or collapse. Eren's gaze was distant, hollow, his body slack against Floch's grip, but his eyes bore the weight of countless decisions, each heavier than the last. His expression was unreadable, lost in a place between determination and resignation.

She stood there, apart from it all, her heart heavy as she watched the scene unfold before her like a cruel play, its lines and actions repeating over and over. The echoes of past decisions, of choices that had led them here, resounded in her mind. She had seen this before — not just once, but a thousand times, in a thousand different ways, and each time it felt like another piece of her soul was being chipped away.

A thousand times of sorrow, a thousand times of pain, of grief that seemed endless.

She wondered if perhaps that was all she

To her left, she saw Bertoldt, the traitor, sprawled on the ground, unconscious. His face was contorted in agony even in his unconscious state, his body broken and torn apart. The lower half of his legs were missing, replaced by grotesque, steaming stumps where flesh met air.

Steam hissed from the wounds, curling upward in thin, wavering wisps, dissipating into the cold air. His betrayal had come at a cost, and now his once formidable Titan form seemed pitiful, a broken shell of what it had been.

A few feet away lay Armin Arlert, the boy — no, the young cadet — who had been burnt alive by flames so fierce they seemed to have etched themselves onto his very bones. His skin was charred, blackened, and blistered, his small frame twisted and fragile, like a crumpled piece of paper.

His bright eyes were closed, his breathing so faint it was almost undetectable, and yet there was a strange calm about him, a finality in his stillness. She felt the echo of his screams in her ears, a phantom pain that gnawed at her insides. The fire had claimed him, scorching through his entire being, leaving behind only a husk of who he once was.

And then… there was him.

Erwin Smith stood beside her, tall and unwavering, his presence like an anchor amidst the chaos. His face was set in that familiar, resolute expression, eyes sharp and determined.

But beneath the surface, she saw the toll this day had taken on him — the weight of all the lives he had led, the burdens of countless decisions, each one chipping away at the man who had carried them all.

The dirt and blood on his skin were like war paint, symbols of a struggle that was not yet over. His breath was steady, but his gaze betrayed the weariness of a man who had pushed beyond his limits.

When it came to injury and blood, you were used to it. When you lay together, the smell too was heavy. And yet, it was all different now. Now that no breath echoed through him. No longer housing a soul, this husk of a shell.

His hand hovered near hers, so close that she could almost feel the tremor in his fingers, the slight hesitation that spoke volumes. He was right there, standing beside her, as he had so many times before. In his presence, she felt the push and pull of conflicting emotions — admiration and anger, faith and doubt.

He was a symbol of everything she had fought for and everything she had lost. She didn’t need to look up to know his expression; she knew it too well, had memorized every line of his face, every flicker in his eyes.

The scene before her was an unending cycle of torment and choice. Her eyes moved between the bodies, the broken figures of the living and the dying. Erwin, Bertoldt, Armin. Each name weighed heavy in her mind, each a testament to the violence and agony that had become their existence.

How many times had she witnessed this? How many times had she stood at this precipice, feeling as if the world was about to shatter into a thousand irreparable pieces?

Erwin’s presence beside her grounded her in that moment of harrowing clarity. For all the sorrow and pain she had known, he had been a constant — a reminder that even in the face of utter hopelessness, someone had to keep moving forward.

"We're giving the serum to Erwin, that is that!" Levi's voice rang out with a ferocity that left no room for argument, cutting through the chaos like a blade. The finality in his tone was unmistakable, a command that brooked no defiance.

Yet, even as he spoke, the young Jaeger cadet, Eren, continued to cry and scream, his voice raw and desperate, pleading with Levi to save his friend. His words were a frantic chorus, a manifestation of the anguish in his heart, but they fell on deaf ears. The redhead, Hange, quickly pulled Eren back, her face a mask of determination mingled with grief.

"Everyone away from here! In this place, we're going to revive Erwin," Levi barked again, trying to maintain his focus, trying to shield his resolve from the relentless tide of emotion that threatened to engulf him.

But then, there was Mikasa Ackerman. The girl with the dark eyes and the fierceness of a storm. She moved with a fluid grace, her muscles coiled like a spring ready to release. She lunged forward, her face contorted in a mixture of anger and heartbreak, her hands reaching out as if to claw back what was slipping away.

For a long time, she had seemed like a machine, all cold steel and sharp edges, but now… now she was anything but emotionless. There was something burning in her eyes — a ferocity that came from the depths of her soul, from a place of profound love and an equally profound loss. She felt as deeply as any of them. Perhaps even deeper. Deeper than Levi, deeper than Hange, perhaps deeper than anyone she had ever known.

And then, everyone left. One by one, the cries and shouts faded into the distance. The decision was made. The line was drawn. The living had been pulled away, leaving only the dying and the few who dared to remain.

But she stayed.

She could not move, could not bring herself to step back into the shadows and let it all fade away. She remained, rooted to the spot, as if by some unseen force, watching as Levi, with deliberate steps, approached Erwin. The tension in the air was thick, and Levi’s gaze was fixed on Erwin, his face a mask of conflicting emotions — determination, regret, sorrow.

Levi halted suddenly, his steps faltering as he noticed her there, kneeling beside Erwin. He hesitated, his brows furrowing. He couldn't read her expression; her face was an enigma, a puzzle that eluded him as much as Erwin's own had so often done. He studied her, but her eyes, her mouth, the set of her jaw — none of it gave him any clue. She seemed as much a mystery as the dying commander beside her, caught between life and death, between decision and indecision.

Without a word, she reached out, her hand brushing gently against Erwin's golden hair. She could feel the dirt and grime that had settled there, the earth that clung to him like a shroud, as if the ground itself sought to claim him before his time.

Her fingers trembled slightly as they moved through the strands, feeling the weight of the dirt, the roughness of the earth that seemed to signify all the burdens he had borne.

Her touch was tender, almost reverent, as if trying to convey a thousand unsaid things, a thousand unvoiced apologies and regrets, all in the delicate brush of her fingers through his hair. There was something sacred in this moment, something that felt like a goodbye that hadn't been spoken, a final connection to a man who had been so much to so many — a leader, a savior, a man with a dream that had carried them all forward. Your...your lover.

Erwin and you had never said anything about it. Labels weren't really what you both were able to say. Permanence was a rarity in your world, after all. A tie to humanity was a bane to the shoulders carrying the weight of the world. And yet....yet both of you know it. Felt it. Knew it.

Levi's gaze never left her, trying to decipher the meaning behind her touch, trying to understand what she was thinking, what she was feeling. But her face remained unreadable, a canvas of calm amidst the storm, as she continued to stroke Erwin's hair, her breath shallow, her heart pounding in her chest like a drumbeat, matching the rhythm of a life that was slipping away.

In this moment, she felt the gravity of the choice they were about to make, the choice Levi was about to make, and she wondered if there was any right answer in a world so torn apart by suffering and sacrifice. The world seemed to narrow down to this single moment, this single touch, and she realized with a sinking feeling that whatever happened next, nothing would ever be the same.

"Y/N," Levi called out, his voice cutting through the stillness as he stopped a few feet away from her, urgency lacing his words. "Get away from him. We're running out of time."

Her eyes didn't leave Erwin's face, but her response was swift and firm, "Don't make the choice for him." She turned her gaze to meet Levi’s, and in her eyes, emotions swirled and collided — fear, sadness, resolve. Emotions that danced just beyond his understanding. "Not this time."

Levi's brows drew together, his frustration evident. "Huh? What do you mean, you brat?" He didn't have time for this, not now, not when every second mattered. He needed her to understand, to see reason.

"You chose for him before," she continued, her voice quieter now but no less forceful. "And he took it to heart. There will be no point in this." Her gaze fell back to Erwin, her hands brushing gently against his skin as if she could soothe him even in this state.

"There is," Levi shot back, his tone blunt and unwavering. "Erwin lives."

She shook her head, and for the first time, he saw the sheen of tears brimming in her eyes. "What for?" she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath, yet it carried the weight of her breaking heart. "Levi, you'll be bringing him back to hell. There is no need for him to… to see it all over again."

"Y/N—" Levi began, his voice faltering slightly.

"I saw it today, Levi," she interrupted, her words almost a scream, yet they came out in a low, choked sob, thick with the grief clawing at her throat. "You freed him, and now you want to cage him again? That's enough, please…"

Levi’s eyes softened, if only for a moment, as he watched her turn back to Erwin, her movements tender and deliberate, as if any sudden motion might shatter what little was left holding her together. He saw the way her hands trembled, the way her lips quivered as if she were on the verge of breaking. “Oi…” he started, but the words died in his throat, replaced by a quiet bewilderment. "You want him to die?"

She closed her eyes, tears spilling over and tracing paths down her cheeks, and when she looked at him again, her expression was raw and open, the pain evident in every line of her face. "

I love him," she replied softly, her voice filled with a sorrow so deep it seemed to echo in the very air around them.

She leaned down, her lips brushing against Erwin's brow in a gentle, final kiss, her hands cradling his head tenderly as if trying to imprint this moment into her soul. If he was alive, he would have smiled at her. His own orbs looking at her face, as though memorizing each and every muscle, each and every expression, each and every moment. But he would never do so ever again.

"I prepared myself for this moment long ago, Levi. That’s why I'm letting him go to rest. As you should."

Levi felt something shift inside him, a familiar ache he had tried so hard to bury now resurfacing with a vengeance. He stared at her, her words sinking in, crashing against his resolve like waves against a crumbling shore. For a moment, he faltered. Her plea echoed in his mind, mingling with the memories of Erwin's countless sacrifices, his relentless drive, his dream that had become a curse. Levi knew that she wasn't asking for Erwin to die; she was begging for him to be free.

He felt his chest tighten, felt the weight of her grief pressing against his own. He had seen so much death, so much loss, but this — this was different. This was a plea from someone who had loved Erwin not just as a leader but as a man, who had seen him not as a symbol or a figurehead but as a human being with fears, dreams, and regrets.

“Y/N…” he whispered, almost helplessly, his hands tightening around the serum as if it could somehow solve everything, make everything right. But nothing was right. Nothing had been right for a long time.

She held Erwin close, her tears falling freely now, soaking into his dirt-streaked hair, her body shaking with the force of her sobs. "Let him rest, Levi," she whispered, a broken prayer against his skin. "Let him go where he doesn't have to fight anymore, where he doesn't have to be a soldier. Let him have peace."

Levi’s hand dropped a fraction, his gaze torn between Erwin’s still face and the woman kneeling beside him, her own spirit breaking right before his eyes. For once, in this world of endless battles, he felt the ground shift beneath him, felt the weight of what it meant to be a human in a world that seemed to forget what humanity meant.

In the silence that followed, he heard the quiet beat of his own heart, heard her quiet sobs, and he wondered if there was ever truly a choice in this place of unending suffering.

Levi looked down at the syringe in his hand, its weight seeming to grow heavier with every passing second. His gaze shifted to Erwin's still face, then to Y/N, her eyes pleading, full of pain and something deeper — something that touched a place in him he rarely let himself feel. He took a deep breath, steadying himself, feeling the full gravity of the decision pressing down on his shoulders, a burden he could scarcely bear.

He made the choice.

His hand moved, quick and certain, not allowing himself to second-guess, to hesitate any longer. He turned away from Erwin, his feet carrying him toward the burned and broken body of the young boy, Armin Arlert. Without a word, Levi injected the serum into Armin's arm, pushing the plunger down, watching the clear liquid disappear into the boy's veins.

There was no turning back now.

He stepped back, and it wasn't long before the transformation began. Armin's body twitched, convulsing violently, his eyes snapping open with a look of wild terror. He gasped, his mouth opening wide as an unearthly scream tore from his throat, a sound that echoed across the broken landscape, a sound that seemed to pierce the very heavens themselves.

His skin crackled and smoked, his limbs flailing as if possessed by some primal force. It was a cry of agony, of rebirth, a sound that spoke of pain and confusion and the violent struggle for life.

"(Y/N)…" The soft murmur caught her attention, pulling her gaze away from the horrific sight of Armin's resurrection. Her heart seized in her chest as she lowered her head, her eyes falling to the parted lips of her dying lover, Erwin Smith.

His voice was barely a whisper, so faint she almost missed it amidst the chaos around them. She was certain he didn't know she was there beside him, even after all these years together, all these battles fought side by side, all these nights spent dreaming of a future that seemed so close and yet so impossibly far away.

"Let's… listen… to my… father's stories again..." Erwin's voice was broken, fragmented, each word a struggle, a final breath barely escaping his lips. His eyes were glazed, unfocused, his body limp in her arms.

Those were his last words — a quiet request from a man who had lived his entire life in search of the truth, a man whose heart had been filled with endless questions and doubts. He wanted to go back, back to those days when things were simpler, back to when he had believed in the stories his father told him, back to when there was still a chance to believe in something more.

She listened, tears streaming down her face, each drop carrying a piece of her breaking heart. She felt his pulse slow beneath her fingertips, felt the warmth begin to fade from his skin. She felt his heartbeat — once strong and steady, the rhythm that had carried him through countless battles — slow to a stop. She could no longer feel it, the silence deafening in her ears.

"You died in my arms, my love." she whispered softly, her voice breaking, her body trembling with the weight of her sorrow. She held him close, cradling his head against her chest, her fingers running through his hair one last time. "Just like you wanted…"

Her words were a quiet lament, a final goodbye. She had known this moment would come, had prepared herself for it, or so she thought. But now, with his lifeless body in her arms, all her preparations felt like dust in the wind.

She had loved him with everything she had, had believed in him, had stood by him even when the world seemed to crumble around them. And now he was gone, leaving her with nothing but a shattered heart and a memory that would never fade.

She held him, her tears falling silently, mingling with the dirt and the blood and the sweat that covered them both. She held him as if by doing so, she could keep him a little longer, keep him from slipping away entirely. She held him because it was all she could do, because in the end, there was nothing left but this — this final act of love, this final goodbye.

Levi stood nearby, silent, watching as she wept, his own heart heavy with the weight of the choices he had made, with the price of their survival. He had chosen life for one, and in doing so, had condemned another to death. He knew there were no right answers, not in this world, not in this hell they lived in. There were only choices, and consequences, and the burden of living with them.

Levi and Hange stood side by side, their eyes fixed on the scene unfolding in the distance. The young cadet, Armin, devoured the traitor Bertolt with a savage ferocity that seemed almost inhuman. Steam rose from his new, massive form, swirling around him like a shroud. It was a sight both grotesque and tragic — a boy forced into monstrosity, into survival by any means, at the cost of his innocence.

Hange turned away from the chaos, her gaze softening as it fell upon Erwin’s lifeless body. Her fingers reached out, trembling slightly as they brushed over his eyelids, closing them gently, tenderly, as if she could somehow grant him the peace he had never found in life.

Levi turned his gaze to her, watching the grief that etched itself into her features, the quiet sorrow that hung in the air between them. He could see it in her eyes — the mourning for a comrade, for a friend, for a leader whose dream had been left unfulfilled.

"He's gone," Hange whispered, her voice barely more than a breath, each word heavy with emotion. She pursed her lips, struggling to maintain her composure, to keep herself from breaking. Erwin had been their anchor, their constant, and now he was gone.

"Perhaps it's better this way." Levi replied with a soft sigh, his own voice tinged with a rare vulnerability. "He won't have to be in his hell anymore."

His eyes flicked back to Erwin's face, still and serene in death, free from the burdens that had weighed him down for so long. He couldn't help but think that maybe, in some small way, Erwin had found the peace he had never known in life.

Nearby, Floch’s brows furrowed in confusion and disbelief. He watched Y/N, still holding Erwin’s lifeless body, her hands running through his hair as if memorizing the feel of each strand.

“Why…” he began, his voice trailing off, unable to grasp why she seemed so calm, so accepting of what had happened.

Y/N's mind drifted back to a moment long ago, a memory that played like a silent film in her mind. Erwin’s voice came to her, clear and steady, even as his body had been failing.

‘If I were on the verge of death this mission… Y/N, let me face it and rest.’

She could still feel the warmth of his hand on her cheek, his thumb brushing against her skin with a gentleness that belied the harsh reality of their world.

She had taken his hand in hers, squeezing it tightly, holding onto him, holding onto the promise she had made. ‘Promise me.

"He wanted to rest." she said, her voice barely above a whisper, her fingers continuing to dance through his hair as if in a trance. Each touch was a farewell, a quiet goodbye to the man she had loved, to the dreams they had once dared to share. "This was his final choice."

‘I promise.’ she had whispered back then, her voice trembling with the weight of what she knew would come. She had made that promise, not understanding then how much it would cost her, how deeply it would cut.

Now, as she held him in her arms, she understood. She had kept her word. She had let him go, had let him find the peace he had sought for so long. It didn’t matter what others thought, what they questioned or doubted.

She knew what he wanted. She had known him better than anyone, had seen him not just as the commander but as the man beneath — the man who had carried a burden too heavy for one person to bear.

Her voice trembled with love and pain as she whispered once more, "You’re free now, Erwin. You’re finally free."

Levi glanced at her, recognizing the truth in her words, the inevitability of what had happened. There was nothing left to say. They had lost so much, sacrificed so much, and yet somehow, they had to keep moving forward, keep fighting, even as their hearts bled for the ones they’d left behind.

The air hung thick with silence, broken only by the distant rumblings of the newly born Titan, a sound that seemed almost distant compared to the weight of their loss. Levi’s eyes lingered on Y/N, her face shadowed with grief but also with a strange sense of serenity, an acceptance of what had come to pass. He could see it in her expression, in the way she cradled Erwin's body with a gentleness that spoke of deep, unwavering love.

Hange's breath hitched as she moved closer to them, her eyes searching Levi’s face for some form of reassurance, for some hint of what he was thinking, what he was feeling. She had seen him make countless choices before, seen him bear the weight of the world on his shoulders, but this… this was different. This was a choice he had never wanted to make.

“Levi…” she began, her voice soft, almost hesitant. “Do you think… do you think he knew?”

Levi's gaze didn’t leave Y/N. He took a moment before answering, his voice low and rough, like gravel underfoot. “I think he knew.” he said quietly. “I think he knew exactly what he wanted. And he made sure we understood it too, in his own way.”

Hange nodded slowly, understanding, though it didn’t make the pain any less sharp, any less real. She looked at Y/N, seeing how tightly she held onto Erwin, how she seemed to draw strength from his lifeless form, even now.

“He loved you,” Hange whispered, their voice filled with a quiet, knowing sadness. “He really did. You were his reason… for so much.”

Y/N nodded, the tears falling freely now, her heart breaking all over again at the words. “I know.” she replied, her voice catching in her throat. “And that’s why I had to let him go.”

Levi felt a pang in his chest, a rare, raw emotion that he rarely allowed himself to feel. He turned away slightly, trying to hide the tightness in his eyes, the moisture gathering there despite himself. “We should… we should get moving.” he said, his voice gruff, more of an order to himself than to anyone else. “There’s nothing left for us here.”

But Y/N didn’t move. She stayed where she was, holding Erwin close, her fingers still tangled in his hair, her eyes closed as if she were trying to memorize the moment, to imprint it into her soul forever.

“Just a little longer..” she murmured softly, more to herself than to anyone else. “Please… just a little longer.”

Levi hesitated, his heart aching as he watched her. He knew the pain of losing someone, knew it far too well. And yet, he also knew the strength it took to let go, to keep moving forward when everything inside you screamed to stay, to hold on, to never let go.

“We’ll give you that,” Hange said quietly, a soft, understanding smile on their lips despite the tears in their eyes. “Take your time, Y/N. As much as you need.”

Levi nodded, finally turning his back to them, his gaze shifting to the horizon, to the future that lay ahead of them, uncertain and filled with shadows. “We’ll wait.” he added, his voice softer, more human than it had been in a long time. “But not too long.”

Y/N nodded, her eyes never leaving Erwin’s face, her heart aching with the knowledge that this was the last time she would see him, the last time she would feel his presence, his warmth, the strength that had always been there, guiding them, leading them, even in their darkest moments.

She leaned down, pressing her lips to his forehead one last time, a final kiss, a final farewell. “I’ll always love you, my love.” she whispered, her voice breaking, her tears falling like rain. “Always… until my last breath.”

And with that, she let him go. She released him from her arms, from the pain of this world, from the burdens that had weighed so heavily on him. She stood slowly, feeling the weight of her grief settle into her bones, a heaviness that she knew would never truly leave her.

Levi and Hange watched, silent, as she rose, as she took a deep breath and turned to face them, her face streaked with tears, but her eyes filled with a quiet, resolute strength.

"Let’s go." she said softly, her voice steady, though her heart was shattered. "We have to regroup now."

Levi nodded, a rare, almost imperceptible smile touching his lips. "Yeah."

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biblio-smia · 1 year ago

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humbly requesting dad!mike,,, like literally anything. this man is so tired but he’s such a dad type of tired if you get what i mean

OH MAN,,,, YEAH! i hope this was what you were looking for!!

the sun beats down on mike through the thick glass of his windshield, forcing him to pull the sun visor down. he inches forward in the car line - he really should just put the car into park. he's half-distracted as someone behind him honks and it takes a few seconds for mike to realize it's at him, mumbling an apology that will never be heard as he pulls up.

mike needs a recharge. he's surprised himself over the years, watching as he has become the type of person that gets energized from being around others instead of from being alone like he had been for years.

although, this seems to only apply to family - mike still can't stand being around strangers for too long but can feel his battery be replenished the minute he's home.

mike watches as a teacher helps a smaller kid into the car in front of his, watching the parent turn back and make sure the child was buckled up before driving away. mike finds himself smiling and it's his turn now. he can feel his demeanor softening, the anticipation to see a piece that would make him feel a little more whole again rising in his throat. mike smiles at the teacher who leans close to his car, examining the numbers on the tag that dangles from the rear view mirror, quietly memorizing them while she goes back inside to find the child with the matching number.

but she comes back empty-handed. mike tries not to frown but his heart is beginning to race as he rolls down the window, only faintly aware that he is holding up the line.

there's a brief conversation between mike and the helpful teacher who tells mike his child has already been picked up, eyes glancing to the car behind him. mike gets the message, though he'd like to ask for her to just double-check, pulling into a parking spot out of the way of others. his teeth catch the inside of his cheek as he thinks, thousands of thoughts milling around his head.

his nokia begins to ring and mike answers it haphazardly. he blinks quickly once he hears your voice on the other end.

"hi," you start, sweet as ever. "are you almost home?" there's a natural curiously in your voice, the end of your sentence dipping up in question. mike glances at the time - yes, he'd usually be home by now.

"uh," mike starts, a warm feeling settling over his cheeks, suddenly seriously considering that maybe today wasn't mike's turn to pick up his kid. "yeah, i'm almost there."

there's a bit of silence as you hesitate, waiting for an explanation from mike that doesn't come.

but then you pipe up again and mike can hear the smile in your voice. "10 minutes?"

"less," mike promises, saying goodbye with a kiss he wishes he could be placing on your lips rather than against the speaker of his tiny phone.

mike seeks you out quickly, stopping you from pulling out plates for dinner with his strong hold around your body. he presses his lips lazily against your jaw, tickling your skin, voice low as he greets you a little tiredly.

you don't have the chance to ask where he's been before a small body coming racing over, wrapping around mike's legs and asking him for you.

"what took you so long?" a muffled voice whines and mike has to crouch down and wrap his warm arms around his child to begin soothing that tiny frown. "you're usually here early on tuesdays."

"tuesday," mike muses quietly, picking up his kid as he rises. "today's tuesday..."

you can't stifle your laugh, pressing kisses to both heads and placing two different hands on two different backs

"i think daddy got confused about what day it is," you grin and mike tries to frown.

"you need a calendar," the small voice chimes again, this time muffled from against mike's shoulder.

a laugh bursts out of mike and he moves to move the little body from his arms to a seat at the dining table. "yeah, i think i do," he admits with a smile, walking back over to the kitchen to help with the task he'd interrupted.

mike listens intently about a fight that had happened on the playground, another in the cafeteria, and about spilled paint in art class, stories told through bites of food and details clarified by questions thrown in by you and mike.

it's mike's turn to clean up while it's up to you to wrangle the little one into the shower.

mike loses himself in his thoughts again, mindlessly wiping bits of food off the counter, not realizing you were calling his name until he feels his back-and-forth motion of his hand come to a halt.

"hey," you call, voice as affectionate as ever. "where's your head?"

mike looks into your eyes and blinks for a few moments, before sighing and burying his face in the crook of your neck, seeking the comfort of your familiar scent. "i don't know," he groans and you quietly try not to laugh.

your apologetic hands come up to soothe him, touch against his back soothing his muscles. he picks up his head and looks at you, at your eyes and the curve of your nose and how it comes in to become your mouth. he stares at your lips quietly before pressing his own against them, feeling his body fully relax at the connection.

"ewwww!" a familiar voice shrieks but mike, at this point, is immune. he lingers in his spot for a few seconds, not quite wanting to let go but unable to continue without oxygen.

there's soft laughter from you and mike, reminders that it's time for bed making the smallest person in the room even smaller. then an idea strikes.

"can i sleep with you guys tonight?" the quiet voice pleads hopefully, hands clasped and eyes wide.

you and mike exchange a glance and small smiles. mike scoops the child up, nodding. a deal is struck and small cheers are made.

your kid jumps onto bed enthusiastically and you're worried the energy won't wear off by the time you all need to sleep. you and mike are careful climbing into bed, cautious of the small limbs that lay sprawled out. mike smiles as he feels his arm get pulled by a smaller one, feeling your hand and grinning when he looks over to see you've gotten the same treatment.

there's pleading for a bedtime story and you and mike take turns, adding in new bits and twists - though you have to take over as mike's words begin to turn into incoherent mumbles.

"keep going," mike manages to get out, half-asleep, shifted in his position so his arm is protectively thrown around the two other bodies with him, the tiniest one humming in agreement. your words are soothingly sweet, lulling not only your child to sleep but mike, too.

you comply, continuing to tell the now nonsensical story to a partially unconscious audience, purposefully leaving long bits of silence between each of your sentences. mike's fingers will tap against your waist occasionally, signaling to you that his brain has not fully drifted off just yet.

it only takes a few more lines. you pause your words again, lie still to wait if there's a tap, listen closely to the sounds of quiet breathing. your eyes are adjusted to the darkness and see two pairs of eyes closed, two sets of chests rising and falling.

you're careful not to move too much, pulling the blanket up higher.

"goodnight," you whisper softly, hoping maybe your message will make its way to them in their dreams.

the warmth of two bodies next to yours and the gentle rhythm of breathing take you out quickly, dragging you into the same state as those around you.

throughout the night, the three of you entangle yourselves even more, arms wrapped around torsos and small hands clutching onto the soft fabric of pajamas.

there's really nothing quite like it.

requests for mike schmidt are open!

#mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt fluff #five nights at freddy's #fnaf x reader #fnaf movie #fnaf #try not to write about mike falling asleep challenge FAILED #v + mike #v writes

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jester089 · 1 year ago

Text

Locked away

TADC crew x abstracted reader. But with a twist, you'll have to read to find out what the twist is. Or you can just go to the end I'll write it there for those who want context.

Caine

When you abstracted it was sad but Caine honestly wasn't surprised. You were showing signs for a while after all. He did his best to make fun adventures and distractions but in the end you were lost. He moved on rather quickly I'm sad to say. You aren't the first person he enjoyed the company of to lose their mind. He moved on like always, no real differences showing themselves. That is until the next person that abstracted. He opened up the cellar to get them out of the way only for a non abstracted you to crawl out. You were shivering and had a thousand yard stare. But you were alive! He quickly swoops down and starts making sure your ok. He asks so many questions only to not get any answers. Or even a reaction out of you. It took some time and the others mentioning things for him to realize that you weren't there anymore. You were physically, you were sitting right in front of him as he speaks. But you weren't there mentally, you were gone. With a heavy heart and regret he puts you back in the cellar. It feels wrong to do but he can't just keep your emotionless reactionless body up where everyone can see it. Chance of abstraction 0.5/10

Gangle

Don't do this to the poor sweetheart Watching your glitchy form get put into the cellar like all the others broke her. Just you abstracting was enough to completely change Gangle. She went from not doing ok. To severely depressed and on the verge of giving up. She would mope around and never really interact. Her comedy mask long forgoten and collecting dust in your old room, sitting on your old bed. She visits your room every now and again but can never get past looking at the door. To many memories, to much hurt. When she heard you were ok and not abstracted from Pomni and Ragatha she didn't believe it, she couldn't believe it. But after enough convincing she went to go see you. And they weren't lying. There you were. Sitting on the ground staring at nothing. Second she catches a glimpse of you she sprint and you full speed and glomps you. She wraps around you tight enough to suffocate you, and peppers your face with kisses. She doesn't notice through the tears of joy or lovely feeling of holding you again that you aren't reacting to anything. But once the high of seeing you again wears off she'll realize. Just give her some time to be happy. She just got you back and your already gone again. Caine said you were broken beyond his help. Watching you get forced into the cellar again broke Gangle. Don't worry about the cellar being lonely and cold anymore, she's going to be joining you soon. Chance of abstraction 10/10

Zooble

You were the only one in this colorful hell that she felt close too. That she trusted. And your gone, just like so many before you. But you aren't like all those others. You were special. You mattered to her. She rarely showed up to adventures and rarely talked before. Now you would be lucky to see her outside of her room. Or yours. You just made her feel so complete. Like she isn't a random mess of parts. When she hears that you back she doesn't believe it. She doesn't even go to check because she truly believes the others are just trying to get her out of her room. She doesn't know that you were actually back. But that also means she doesn't have to go through loosing you again. She finds out a week or two later and you did actually come back and feels horrible. You were there, and she didn't even show up. Chance of abstraction 7.5/10

Ragatha

I feel like despite her go lucky and up beat personality she's one of the if not the closest to abstraction. She just doesn't show it cause she is supposed to be the well held together one, the anchor for the others. You were her little ray of sunshine. And not that digital sun outside, just your presence made her feel like she wasn't trapped in a computer. But your not here anymore. You haven't been for a long time. But shhh don't tell her that. When you abstracted Ragatha fell into her delusions. She lives in her memories of the real world, and of you two. When your brought back she doesn't even really react cause in her mind you've been there the whole time. She knows that isn't true. But it's her last chance to not lose herself. She wants to stay strong for you, and for the others. But seeing you in front of her, but it not actually be you. Just a husk of what you once were. Seeing YOU. Actual you being shoved into the cellar breaks her. It can go one of two ways. Either she goes fully delusional, or she abstracts right then and there. Chance of abstraction 8.5/10

Jax

Now Jax is an interesting one as I can see it going one of three ways. 1. He gets 5x more bully like and starts acting like he actually wants the others dead and isn't just doing it cause he finds it funny. 2. Losing you completely changes him. After enough time he is actually able to get over you and improves as a person to honor you. 3. Acts like it doesn't even happen and is the same as before. But if anyone brings you up he either gets violent, depressed, or both. For the sake of this I'm going to go with two as it's the most f#*&$@% up. Jax missed you. He missed you a lot. But he's a tough rabbit and isn't just going to give up cause your gone. That's Gangle's job, The little push over. He mourns losing you for a while but is surprisingly able to get over it. Once he is ready to join the others again he acts differently. He doesn't bully or prank. And any jokes he says are incredibly light hearted. Like he's scared, of what? The others don't know. Ragatha appreciates the change but knows that it only happened because he's been put though a lot of pain. He starts helping on adventures and doing his best to cheer everyone up. But then he sees you again. Sees you in the flesh not in a dream, or a nightmare. He wants so badly to run up to you and give you a big ol hug and take you back to his room for cuddles. But he can see in your eyes and the way your breathing. While that is your body. That isn't you. As he watches Caine put you back in the cellar he starts glitching and holding on to his head like it'll split if he doesn't. But before anyone can comfort him or ask if he's ok he's back up and just as cheerful as ever. From that day on he didn't allow himself to feel anything. Good, bad, neutral. None of it. He loved you. And look where that got him. Chance of abstraction 3/10

Pomni

Yeah this'll end well. Totally. 100% So for Pomni it does kind of depend on how long she's been there. If she's still new it wont affect her as much as she didn't know you that well. If she's been there a while then she's going down with the ship. Her ship. You. Pomni was still pretty new to the circus and the digital world. But with you and Ragatha's constant reassurance and help she got used to it rather quickly. You and Pomni got close enough to start dating getting far enough into it to ask Caine for date nights Be warned, He can and will watch you two go out. But just as she was starting to feel comfortable with this place and happy to be with you, she lost you. She spends most of her time going over every single memory you two had together. And the more she nit picks the more she feels like it's her fault. You had been here so long, you had done so well. Then she showed up. And now your gone and trapped in a dank cellar. But she's still here. If it wasn't for Ragatha she would have joined you in that cellar really soon but she trudged on. She was there. When you got pulled out of that hole. She was there watching you shiver on the floor mumbling about something. She was there when you got put back in. That was it, the final nail in the coffin. Well at least she wont have to suffer so much every day. Chance of abstraction 9.5/10 (The base for this is "your another person trapped in the digital world. And you were dating the character. But then you abstracted. Some how while trapped in that cellar you un-abstracted but you couldn't get out. So being trapped in a pitch black, cold, and wet place broke you mind. Only for you to be pulled out by Caine and break your S/O's mind. At least you two can live in hell together.") (Hope you enjoyed. I wrote this while high off my ass on coffee and sugar. So that's why it's so long.)

xoxo, Jester

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #caine x reader #gangle x reader #zooble x reader #ragatha x reader #jax x reader #pomni x reader #heavy angst #not beta'd #noob author

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spacesodaa · 7 months ago

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Hi there! I saw that you accept requests! So, I was thinking about Wriothesley having a special person who is basically a sunshine, who loves nature, seeing the sky, singing and basically being a darling, but who has experienced very traumatic situations. But despite this they don't lose their innocence and warm smile.

I would love to read something like that.

Thank you, and take care!

Helooo, this sounds absolutely adorable! I will do my best!

Sorry if this took a bit long, I hope you like it ^^

Wriothesley x Reader - Brighter Than The Sun

Characters: Wriothesley, Reader

Summary: Reader is a little sunshine and Wrio is down BAD

Warning: unadulterated fluff bro

A/N: I posted this without text by mistake lmao

Wriothesley sighed heavily as he read the same sentence for the third time. He had been on the same stack of papers for about an hour with scarce results. He couldn't seem to focus and the more he willed the clock to go faster the slower the hands seemed to move. Tea break felt ages away.

He let his head fall into the desk with a thick thud and groaned in frustration. What was this? The fourth break he took? Today there seemed to be no way to get his work done.

Oh how he wished he could hear you sing, maybe it would reset his brain. Unfortunately for him you had gone out to the court of fontaine to run some errands, his valiant attempts to keep you glued to him in bed proved to be futile.

Sometimes he struggled to believe you were real and right at his side. You always had a soft smile on your face, eyes shining. To him your eyes weren't the only part of you that shone, in fact he saw all of you as a star. You went about your day shining with the force of a thousand suns, comforting whoever was around you simply with your reassuring presence. The first time he had experienced this quality of yours was also the first time he had met you. He was having a bad day and he was this close to punching whoever rubbed him the wrong way first, you on the other hand were happily chatting with a friend of yours at the reception desk. You didn't belong there, instead having come to visit said friend at her new job. Hell he wouldn't believe you belonged in the fortress even if he saw you commit a crime with his own eyes.

The receptionist had gone in fight or flight mode as soon as she had seen him, stammering a greeting. You turned and met his gaze, following with a polite greeting and that warm smile of yours. There wasn't any fear in your shiny eyes, nor pity for him being there for that matter. Your relaxed demeanor intrigued him, he was used to people feeling tense around him, yet you didn't seem to be. You then asked him about the fortress, roping him into a conversation he didn't think he needed. He realized at the end of it, that he was much calmer than before and even though the conversation was one he had had many times, he felt refreshed.

Later he had summoned the courage to ask the receptionist about you and the rest became history. He still looked back fondly to that day, as he did with every memory he had of you. There was this warmth about you and everything you did, he simply couldn't get enough of it. It wasn't surprising he had fallen head over heels for you. You had accepted every part of him without question, even the darkest corners, so much so, that your light had made those corners a little less daunting. What had surprised him though, was that you yourself had dark corners. He struggled to believe someone who shone so brightly as you did, had such big of a baggage to carry around.

Later he had witnessed when your light dimmed as you cried in his arms about the same reoccurring nightmare, about all the blood you had seen spilled, about the fear you had faced. Yet even if dimmed, you never stopped shining.

A knock at the door made him almost jump out of his chair. He was so engrossed in the details of your radiant face in his mind that he had gotten distracted. Wriothesley sighed yet again. He figured he couldn't get more distracted than this at that point so he answered.

"Come in" he absentmindedly ordered the stack of papers on his desk, swearing to himself he would get to them at some point.

What he hadn't expected, was for you to show up into his office, at least not at this hour.

"Wriooo" you sang cheerfully as you skipped towards his desk with your hands behind your back.

"Welcome back, I wasn't expecting you to be back so early" he got up from his chair, maybe a little too eagery, pulling an amused chuckle out of you.

"I finished all my commissions" you said "missed me?"

"Of course I did" he admitted and pulled you in for a hug. You responded right away, burying your head in his sculpted chest. When his muscles were at rest he made a damn good pillow and you loved it.

"I brought you something!" You beamed, letting him go briefly to hand hin a small green bag "I hope you don't have this one yet"

"Thank you darling" he took the bag from your hands and pressed a kiss to your cheek, followed by one on your lips. You hummed contently in response.

"Well, lucky for you I don't have this tea yet. I've actually wanted to order this for some time" Wriothesley studied the tea bag intently "how about an early tea break? I want to try this with you" he took your hand in his and brought it to his lips, gently kissing your knuckles.

"Absolutely, I've also brought pastries!" You gestured to a colorful paper bag you had left by the door when entering.

"Oh how lost I would be without you" the duke said in a rather dramatic tone.

"I bet" you poked at his nose, grinning.

Your light was almost blinding. Nonetheless he would still keep staring at his sun even if it blinded him.

#wriothesley x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin drabbles #genshin impact x reader #wriothesely genshin #genshin fluff

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a-couple-of-notes · 12 days ago

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More Agatha All Along thoughts, before I watch the 3.5 hour deep dive/Jac Schaeffer interview from the House of R podcast:

This notion that Agatha was killing witches in the 1700s to stave off Rio from Nicky--a sort of deal in bodies--I see it, I respect it, I fundamentally disagree with it. I feel that it goes along with this strange desire to sand down Agatha's villainous edges and make excuses for her hunger for/addiction to power; it buys into the exact same lie that Agatha is telling herself, that it was all Rio's fault and that there was something Agatha could have done, could have bargained, to save her son. Perhaps, in the back of her mind, Agatha did like half-justify her murders this way--but I really think Rio would have given them the time regardless, just like she eventually took Nicky regardless. Sometimes boys die. Sometimes witches just murder for power.

God, I really hate Ghost!Agatha's design. It's the one part of this finale that's definitively soured on me.

If the "I don't want to see your face" line is the basis for Agatha's calculated risk...I hate it. I despise this with the force of a thousand burning suns. I don't think this is the intent given the original form of the line ("Retire that form."/"But this is the me you fell in love with."), which isn't about Rio not reaping Agatha but about doing it as a stranger, performing emotional distance. This ask is Agatha at her most hurtful, most grieving, most bitter. This is Agatha attempting to destroy her connection to a person who sees her and loves her (although we can argue all day about how "toxic" or not that relationship is). This is an awful, awful severing. It would, for lack of a better word, suck ass if Agatha is taking a risk with Rio based on what she said to her at her absolute worst, relying on that being true (it isn't). What an awful end.

More likely (and I realize that this is in part based on what I laid out in my fic), the complete opposite is true: Agatha asked for emotional distance, Rio sort of complied by giving her the huge, cackling Death performance. When Agatha chooses to sacrifice herself via kiss, that's Agatha's admission that they cannot be strangers--and that she doesn't want to. I believe Agatha's calculated risk is that she knows Rio will be emotionally compromised by her death (she knows she's getting special treatment) and that Rio will either let her go be a ghost or grieve long enough for Agatha to escape. Her play relies on recognizing the truth of Rio's feelings for her.

I already liked Billy's arc but I've come to like it even more. Though there's an argument to be made about it coming at the expense of the women in the coven (I see it, but I think it's slightly more complicated than that), that last scene in the basement is a brilliant gut-punch of an end to his arc. Because really, when he's trying to banish Agatha, he's trying to banish what he sees in himself: a killer who conned his coven for a selfish desire, someone who won't "just die," a covenless witch. His "So do I" after Agatha's "I do tend to kill my covens" is just such a crown on his journey of oscillating denial, self-righteousness, and understanding.

#agatha all along #agatha all along spoilers #meta

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deliciousangelfestival · 10 months ago

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Sweetest Dreams || B.Barnes - Part 4

Character: mob!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Finally, it's the right time with the right person. ❤️

Warning: Kidnapped, tortured (only a small part)

Part 1: Echoes Of Revenge

Part 2: Shattered Echoes

Part 3: All The Lies

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more.

"This is fucked up. Where am I?" Y/N's thoughts echoed in the disorienting haze surrounding her.

Ivan, the orchestrator of her current predicament, stood menacingly before her, a cruel grin etched across his face. "You should blame yourself for being in this condition," he sneered.

Y/N, still grappling with the fog in her mind, pressed for answers. "Where am I?"

Ivan, relishing in his control, delivered the chilling truth. "A hangout place for drug addicts. So if you don't listen to me, the next morning the police will find your body. Overdose."

‘Shit.’ Panic surged within Y/N as she scanned her surroundings, her eyes landing on a lone door – a potential lifeline out of this nightmare.

“Stop thinking about escaping.” Ivan's fingers dug into her chin, forcing her to meet his menacing gaze. “To be honest, I don't want to kill you. Because I need your brain to make money.”

Y/N, defiance burning in her eyes, said, “You think I will agree?”

Ivan leaned in, his breath sending a cold shiver down her spine. “You have to. After you make me bankrupt, I've gained a lot of enemies – elite people who invested their money in the company. And they want their money back.”

“So, you want to return the money to high-influence people rather than those with low income?” Y/N's disdain dripped from her words, her body language betraying a simmering anger.

Unfazed, Ivan smirked, reveling in the power dynamic. Y/N, unable to contain her disgust, spat on his face in an act of defiance. Undeterred, Ivan scoffed, “Those people are small fish. The most important thing is the big whale.”

Infuriated, Y/N spat on his face again, her eyes ablaze with defiance. “Work again with a mastermind who made thousands of families bankrupt? Fuck no.” She turned her attention to the door, silently calculating the risks and possibilities of escape.

Ivan wiped his face with a cloth, savoring the moment with a sinister satisfaction. "I knew you wouldn't agree, but I'll change your mind," he declared with a dark chuckle.

With a snap of his fingers, the dimly lit place transformed into blinding brightness. Y/N, still disoriented, realized she was tied to an electric chair. Someone approached from behind, forcing a mouthguard into her mouth.

Before she could react, her head was jolted by an electric shock, and a muffled scream escaped through the mouthguard, "Mrghh!" Tears streamed down her face as the searing pain coursed through her.

Ivan, reveling in the torment he was inflicting, taunted, "You've made my life hell for a year, Y/N. Now I want to torture you a bit."

Y/N, in the midst of the excruciating pain, wished for a chance to apologize to Bucky if today was to be her last.

"BAM!"

Ivan, caught off guard, exclaimed in surprise. He had been confident that no one knew about this hidden location. However, he was about to learn the extent of Bucky's knowledge of the town.

Bucky stormed in with a powerful kick to Ivan's face, sending him crashing.

“What the fuck?” Ivan spluttered, struggling to stand.

Bucky's eyes fell on Y/N, tied to the chair and seemingly lifeless. Panic and darkness consumed him for a moment as he approached her. "Y/N?"

He lifted her gently, holding her close. "You can't die. I don't know what to do without you."

“Urggh, I'm still alive, idiot,” Y/N weakly replied. Opening her eyes felt like a daunting task, and she couldn't quite believe that Bucky had come to her rescue.

Bucky, overwhelmed with relief, clenched his teeth. His gaze shifted to Ivan, who was still attempting to rise.

He turned to Steve, who had followed him to save Y/N. “Make sure he never sees the sun again.”

Steve nodded, advancing towards Ivan with a determined expression. He swiftly broke Ivan's arm, eliciting a pained cry. “You messed with the wrong person, pal,” Steve smirked, ensuring Ivan faced the consequences of his malevolent actions.

Bucky cradled Y/N, his eyes reflecting worry, anger, and relief. "I've got you," he whispered, vowing to protect her from any further harm.

Bucky, keeping a watchful eye on Y/N as she slept in the hospital bed, found himself reflecting on a similar moment from his recent past when he had visited her father.

Her father had looked at him and said, “What a small world.”

Indeed, it was a small world.

Fifteen years ago, Bucky was a teenage boy living alone in a desolate house. His mother had left, and no one bothered with the household chores. His father, Nicholas, was indifferent, unmoved by Bucky's struggles. School was a constant battleground for him, and life seemed monotonous and purposeless.

Then, one day, Bucky noticed his father bringing a guest home. His father never bothered with hospitality, a clue that this visitor wasn't just any guest. It was the first meeting with Y/N's father, a long-time friend of his own father.

Bucky calls him the kind uncle because he worries about Bucky more than his father.

This kind uncle regularly visited, bringing homemade food Bucky gratefully accepted. It was a lifeline in a home where food was scarce.

The kind uncle shared, "I have a daughter your age. I'll bring her next time." However, that promise remained unfulfilled, and it turned out to be the last visit. Bucky later learned that his father had lent the kind uncle money with exorbitant interest, severing their friendship.

It was pivotal for Bucky, revealing the depth of his father's greed and how money could destroy longstanding friendships. The realization left an indelible mark on him, shaping his future goals. Bucky vowed that if he ever became wealthy, he wouldn't burden his friends with the weight of borrowed money.

Then, when he entered university, he met her—the daughter of that kind uncle, Y/N. The revelation brought a sense of purpose to Bucky's life. He witnessed her being taken advantage of by classmates and seniors at the club, prompting him to take a stand and become her shield.

With him by her side, nobody dared to exploit Y/N anymore. Despite her initial annoyance towards him, Bucky saw a cute, angry kitten in her eyes, and teasing her became a daily amusement, injecting excitement into his otherwise mundane university days.

As they transitioned into adulthood, Y/N underwent a transformation. Her style matured, and she exuded newfound confidence, a far cry from her college days, where she often kept her head down.

Bucky enjoyed the challenge when she underestimated him, eventually giving her money because of her work in an investment company. Little did he know that this woman would swiftly elevate him to wealth.

Y/N's unexpected departure left Bucky in a state of confusion. He waited for a month, then three, and finally, six months passed, but she never returned.

The unanswered question lingered: What did he do wrong? His search for her took a year, but when he found her, she revealed that she had used him to rectify his father's mistake, the same father who had caused harm to her own.

Despite the revelation, Bucky didn't care about the past. He just wanted her back. However, Y/N, this stubborn and seemingly heartless woman, refused to yield.

As he watched her sleep, Bucky's hand cradled her cold cheeks. He joined her side, wrapping her in an embrace to ward off the chill. His fingers gently brushed her hair as he stared at the sleeping figure, who had inadvertently disrupted his life since the moment they met.

Bucky didn't harbor hatred; he found perfection in the chaos she brought into his life. The only thing he desired now was for her to wake up and ensure she could never leave him again.

Y/N blinked, momentarily blinded by the morning light streaming in from the window. The female nurse, noticing her awakening, hurried over to assist Y/N in sitting up.

"My dear, you've woken up? You've been asleep for two days," she informed a hint of concern in her voice. The dryness in Y/N's throat confirmed the duration of her unconsciousness.

Two days – no wonder everything felt hazy. Y/N's attention perked up when the nurse continued, "Rest assured, the bad guy has been taken to the police. Your fiancé has been keeping an eye on you for 24 hours."

'Fiancé?'

Y/N's eyes widened at the unexpected revelation. She hadn't realized she had a fiancé. The sliding door opened, revealing Bucky carrying a bucket of flowers. His face lit up with a warm smile upon seeing Y/N awake. "Babe, you're awake," he greeted cheerfully.

The female nurse couldn't help but giggle at the scene. "Yes, and she's healthy. Aww, so romantic, you bring new flowers today." She grinned at the young couple before making her exit.

Bucky chuckled as he placed the flowers in a vase. Y/N couldn't shake off her surprise. He took a seat beside her, brushing her hair gently. "It's the safest way. If everyone knows that you're my fiancée, no one will dare to kidnap you," he explained matter-of-factly.

He pulled her into a tight hug, their bodies sinking into the hospital bed. "Y/N, please don't go. I don't know what I would do without you," Bucky pleaded, his eyes reflecting the exhaustion from lack of sleep. Y/N's heart ached at the sight of the big man pleading.

She gets closer, kissing his forehead. "I won't go anywhere."

Bucky's eyes widened in surprise, a brilliant smile replacing his earlier plea. Finally, in that small hospital bed with the sterile scent of antiseptic lingering, it didn't matter. Bucky could have the sweetest dreams as long as she was beside him.

Author Note:

Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account. Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating. Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

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strangersteddierthings · 1 year ago

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Based on a twitter thread the lovely @nburkhardt shared in the Discord chat and I just took the idea that Gareth is both Chrissy AND Steve's cousin and ran with it.

"Harrington, think fast!" Gareth is already lobbing the cream soda at Steve's head before he's even fully looked up but the asshole snatches it out of the air no problem. It barely even fizzes when he cracks the can open. The bastard.

"And for you, Chrysanthemum," Gareth hands off her cream soda gently, because she's his favorite cousin. She laughs at him but takes the soda. She doesn't open it right away, instead opting to set it beside her in the shade of the shed they've taken residency of. Out of sight of the rest of their family and their thousand and one questions.

"You know nicknames are supposed to be shorter than the original name, right?" Steve says, then burps because he chugged half the soda in one swallow.

"Gross," Chrissy says at the same time as Gareth's, "noice."

Steve grins, pleased with himself.

"Hey, so. I wanted to talk to you guys about something," Gareth says after a moment of quiet has fallen over them. He's plopped down in the front of them instead of resuming his spot beside Chrissy, leaning against the shed in the shade. It puts him in the sun but he wants to look at them both as they talk.

"Anything, Garebearringham," Chrissy says to annoy Steve with a lengthened nickanme.

"So, I'll be a freshman this year. And, I love you guys, you know I do, but, uh, I don't want to be seen associating with you. Publically."

There's a beat of silence where Steve and Chrissy just stare back, Chrissy looking hurt and Steve looking offended.

"What I mean is that you're both already, like, known. You know? And I don't want to just be… the cool kids' younger cousin. I want to be uncool on my own."

Chrissy says, "Oh. Yeah, I get that."

Steve says, "You want to be uncool?"

Gareth gestures to all of himself. "I am not aiming to win the popularity contest. I want to join the Hellfire club." He points an accusing finger at Steve. "You told me yourself that the club leader climbs on tables and rants about jocks-"

"Yeah, as a warning to not join Hellfire. How did you read that wrong?"

"-so I can't be seen associating with a cheerleader and the king of jocks. That'll ruin my, like, cred or whatever!"

Chrissy is nodding along solemnly. She's always been understand and sympathetic to Gareth, especially when it comes to being himself. In quiet alone times, she's confessed to being jealous of how easily being himself came to him and she wished she was as brave. Steve, however, was a conformist through and through and while Gareth could understand the why (his uncle and aunt are not the best of people) he's never going to try and fit in just because it makes like easier.

"Your cred," Steve says monotone, his bitch face out in full force.

"Yeah! My street cred!"

Chrissy and Steve share a look. Steve raises and eyebrow and Chrissy shrugs before they look back to Gareth.

"Alright. You're secret is safe with us, Garrington," Chrissy teases.

"Do not!"

"You think people aren't going to put together that you and Chrissy have the same last name?" Steve says, because he's a shithead.

"So? There like 4 Smiths, and none of them are related. It'll be fine."

"True. No one will believe the amazing Chrissy Cunningham is related to the absolute loser Gareth Cunningham."

"Absolute loser! You're a dick, Steve Harrington."

"Yeah, but you know I got your back even if you're a loser."

Gareth doesn't answer. He opens his own soda then, chugging enough to let out his own gross burp for Chrissy to scold him about and Steve to laugh.

It's the summer of 1983 and things can only go up for them all now that they're all in high school together.

#steve harrington #chrissy cunningham #gareth #gareth cunningham (in this au)#they're cousins

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cairavende · 10 months ago

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My wonderful girlfriend got me Gideon the Ninth for Christmas and I realized why should I just give Worm recaps? Let's read some Locked Tomb! (We'll see how this format works, maybe I'll adjust it. Specifically might break stuff down into smaller segments instead of full acts, but I didn't think of doing this until after I had read all of act 1.)

Gideon the Ninth Act 1 (chapter 1 through 8) thoughts:

This book is so gay oh my god

Like, it's gay in ways I can't even explain. I love it.

Harrow beats the shit out of Gideon in chapter 2 and I don't know if I've ever seen someone get beat up in a more gay way.

"Oh Griddle! But I don't even remember about you most of the time." ROLL A FUCKING DECEPTION CHECK HARROW! You are saying this standing in the middle of the field you spent all night burying bones in just to foil her escape in the most dramatic way. You can't stop remembering her.

Gideon is the most herbo of herbos. I fucking love her. I love reading her PoV. She just knows punch and stab with sword and if those don't work than she'll just do them harder.

Also Gideon is SO fucking gay. Dear god. Dulcinea faints and Gideon turns off all though. HELP PRETTY GIRL. Nothing else.

Ok I could just make this whole thing "EVERYTHING IS GAY" but there is technically more than that.

I love how weird everything is and how little explanation is given. I don't want pages of exposition, I want to learn the world as it comes at me! This is perfect.

And just the very nature of things that seem weird not being given more than a passing thought in the book is information. Something may seem wild to the reader but it's so normalized to the characters that they wouldn't even think about the idea of it being different.

Lack of explanation also helps really show how much of a meathead Gideon is. Do the readers get to learn details about this thing? Only if it is a weapon, has tits, or Gideon is forced to listen while Harrow explains it. Otherwise no, why the fuck would Gideon spend her precious few brain cells on thinking?

And even if Gideon is forced to listen as Harrow explains it, the readers might not learn much cause Gideon might stop listening. I love her.

Aiglamene is wonderful. Crux is fine but I like her more.

Poor Gideon just wants a big sword that she can swing hard. It's not like she can't use a rapier. But why when she can go big sword?

SO MUCH CATHOLICISM

As someone who once was Catholic and then realized I was actually not a straight man, but instead a lesbian, I am in deep.

And the fucking slang used! Or whatever would be the right term. The shit they say! I love it. Just the weird sci-fi far future space necromancer universe and then suddenly "Are you asking me to . . . throw her a bone?", "Gideon had always known that this would be how she went: gangbanged to death by skeletons.", "Don’t hypothetically shove stuff up my butt again, it never does any good.", "Lo! A destructed ass.", "Well we were developing common sense, she studied the blade.", "Double Bones with Doctor Skelebone."

House of the First appears to be Earth. I kinda assume the House of the Ninth is Pluto, even though things obviously aren't in order given that the Seventh and Sixth are closer to the sun. Of course, I'm kinda expecting this to not technically be this solar system at all.

Undying Emperor, King of Resurrection, I Have Ten-Thousand Titles, Boss First, etc etc hasn't been on "Earth" in over nine thousand years. I wanna know MORE.

And the fucking Ninth House has their own prayer! Everyone else has one that the Ninth didn't know and then the Ninth had one that no one else knows! GIMME MORE!!!!

Also again, so many Catholicism metaphors or comparisons or whatever!

I could go on forever but gonna end this one with OH MY GOD SHE FOUND SUNGLASSES I LOVE HER. Fucking "I came prepared, my sweet." and "But then you couldn't have admired . . . these!" as she whips on the sunglasses. God. I nearly died.

#The Locked Tomb #tlt #Gideon the Ninth #Cairavende reads The Locked Tomb #Gideon Nav #Harrowhark Nonagesimus #Dulcinea Septimus #This might be the most lesbian thing I've ever read and I've read some pretty fucking lesbian things #Dulcinea might be my favorite so far

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melancholymetropolis · 9 months ago

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“So you were just going to leave?”

His thick, raspy voice crawled from the doorway and into the partially packed office. “And not tell me a damn thing? Come on, princess. I know we have our problems, but this is a whole new low.”

Although his delivery was playful, I could feel the heat radiating off his massive form. I didn’t need to turn to face him to know that his fists were balled at his sides and his jaw was clenched. His footsteps barely made a sound on the polished floors as he moved from the doorway. Gradually closing the gap between us. He was testing the waters. The taller man knew we were both equally yoked when it came to temper; which was one of the many reasons I was leaving.

Instead of replying, I simply continued to fill up the massive box before me. It was labeled “Miscellaneous”. But, some of the items meant more than oxygen to me. Like the picture of when Japan won their first gold medal after being second in the entire world for three years. Fushiguro Toji had practically plastered his body next to mine in the picture. An arm curled around my waist and a hand on my thigh. Instead of looking at the camera, he was looking down at me. A sly smile on his scared lips. They said a picture was worth a thousand words, but the look on his face alone was worth a million. Every time I looked back at the image, my heart would leap from my chest. Tendrils of hope wrapped around my brain and breaths of longing filled my lungs. The look was confirmation that everything I had felt was not a game, nor was a piece of fiction. I hadn’t made it up in my mind; it was real.

The feeling was mutual.

He had been in love with me, as I was in love with him.

Had.

Was.

Two words that spoke the language of the past. Not the current or future tense.

Those feelings seemed to change after one fateful phone call from another woman. Another Olympic athlete from Japan’s track team. Tall, lanky and full of spark. On any other day, I would have been a fan of hers. I had seen her race and she was the fastest person in the country. She made running a hundred meters look easy. Even with sweat coating every inch of her body, the athlete was gorgeous. Not only that, she just was so sweet and had the softest voice. It made the news spewing out her mouth hurt just a little bit less than it would’ve if Toji had told me.

Not only were they dating for the past three months, but she was also pregnant.

One of those facts would have felt like a bullet wound to the chest on my best day. To have them transcribed to be minutes behind the other, it felt like my lungs stopped working. The pressure that built in my throat burned hotter than the sun and the tears that rolled from my eyes were practically steaming. The phone dropped from my grasp and clattered to the floor. My back slid against the wall and I couldn’t escape the sobs from escaping my lips.

Not only had he sent me mixed signals for the past month prior, but he was actively courting another woman at the same time.

And got her pregnant.

He never said a word about it.

Never thought to share such information with his personal assistant.

With his friend.

At least I thought we were friends before that.

Part of me wished we were more.

But that was killed by the news.

“Y/N. . . ?” The anger in his voice wavered into something resembling worry.

The placement of his hand on my shoulder had made my heart stop. I didn’t know I had been crying until I saw the tear droplets splatter on the picture of us in my hands. I felt my body begin to tremble underneath his touch and the anger that I thought I’d shoved down was resurfacing. It was bubbling from my chest and rising up my shoulders. It eased up my neck and made a beeline to my lips. I clenched my teeth, attempting to force the words back down my throat. My brain was screaming to be rational. To think my words through. To refrain from saying something I may regret. Yet, my heart had other plans.

“Don’t touch me,” I said, tossing the picture in the trash bin next to my foot. “And leave me the hell alone.”

-----

a/n: I am back from the dead! Did you miss me? I got a surprise coming for you on Sunday!

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idksmtms · 4 months ago

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You Are Not One of Us (Poseidon x Norse Goddess!reader) - Part 7

Full Request Part

Part 6 << PART7 >> Part 8

AN: I am so so sorry that this took me so long! I’m ngl, I lost a bit of inspiration for this for a while but I kinda forced myself to sit down and write it and it felt really good to finish something I felt I had given up on! I tried to make it a big one to make up for all the time I was gone!

I also went back and read all the Anon messages I got from so many people and they really helped me, so thank you to absolutely everyone and all the anons who contributed ideas. I def included some in this part (and the coming parts) so if you spot it, I hope you enjoy it!

Also, for the timing of his birthday versus when he started at Yancy Academy, IDK guys, I made it up. I don’t actually know about when he started versus when his birthday was so just… let it go ig.

ALSO, I copied the dialogue for the diner scene almost verbatim from the show so I can’t take credit for writing that, but the descriptions attached to the dialogue are still mine.

PS. I got a new divider that I love heheheh

Also, I really hope y’all notice the significance of each of his birthday presents because I worked so unnecessarily hard on those.

Summary: In one place, Percy grows up with his Aunt Sally, dealing with the struggles of being a demigod child. In another, you try to pretend you haven’t just given up your son and a life you have always wanted. Neither world is going as one would hope.

Word count: 7.3k

Trigger Warnings: she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, profanity, innuendo, age gap (even tho they are both thousands of years old), personal insecurity, insecurity about one’s parenting, absentee parents technically, light angst, Percy believing there is something wrong with him, negative view of one’s own ADHD and dyslexia, any warnings associated with Percy’s adventures, (please let me know if I missed any)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Percy Jackson and the Olympians characters. I do not claim to own any of the Percy Jackson and the Olympians characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so.

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

When you returned to Valhalla, you tried to put on a brave face. Your return was denoted by a grand feast, and the Aesir were simply so happy to see you return no one questioned the way you occasionally turned away to brush off stray tears or gazed at Yggdrasil as if you wanted to see into one of the worlds nestled in its branches. But aside from all of that, you were rather good at pretending to be happy. You drank a few sips of ale for every mug Thor drained, you danced half the night with Baldur, and you sat cosied up with Loki, ready to listen to whatever story of his latest shenanigans he wished to bestow on you. Everyone was happy. Things were as they were meant to be.

As the sun began to creep toward the horizon and the Aesir made their way out of the grand hall, you found yourself walking with Odin back to your old quarters in Valhalla. When he first came up to you as you stood from the feast table, he had wrapped you up in his arms, whispering how he was happy at your return. Even now, he occasionally turns to look at you with his remaining eye and smiles gently. The walk was peaceful, quiet, a stillness in the air at that hour just before dawn.

“Do you know what I gave up my eye for?” He asked out of the blue. You furrowed your eyebrows, tilting your head and looking at him almost incredulously.

“Of course, all the gods know, you sacrificed your eye for all the knowledge of the world.”

“Hm,” he nodded. Then he stopped in the hallway and turned to fully face you. You clasped your hands in front of you, heart suddenly beating just a little faster. “Did you know that this also means I know about Perseus?”

You could suddenly hear the blood rushing in your ears. You could see Odin in front of you, but you also couldn’t. Your hands were sweaty and your dress was suddenly tight around your ribs. You looked up at him, shallow breaths blowing from your lips. But then Odin smiled, a small sad smile that somehow broke your heart just that little bit more.

“I am the only one that knows, and it should be kept that way.” He reached out and caressed your cheek, and you closed your eyes, a tear slipping down your cheek that he wiped away. “If it were different, I would have cherished meeting him.” Then he pulled away and walked back in the direction of the feasting hall. You listened to his footsteps fade away, before entering the room you had left behind for millenia.

Every year, without fail, it rained on Percy’s birthday. When he first noticed, he thought it meant something special. That there was something magical out there, wishing him well. Whatever higher power was out there, they knew he loved to swim, to be in the water, and they sent the rain just for him. As he grew, he began simply chalking it up to weather patterns. August was just the time of year when rain happened upon the city. It wasn’t anything special, this was simply the one part of his life where he was lucky.

Sally knew it was a blessing. She knew it was his father, celebrating the day in the best way he knew how, sending a message to Percy in the only way he could. She always took Percy outside, regardless of if the rain became a storm. She knew Percy would be safe in the rain. They made it a habit to go onto the fire-escape when the rain was at its worst, and they would spin around and dance and laugh.

In all the time Sally had spent raising Percy, through all the challenges and the struggles, she never failed to notice how alike to his mother he was. Percy, seemingly since he was born, was obsessed with the colour blue. He only wanted to eat blue food, only wanted to wear blue clothes (it took a lot of convincing to introduce other colours to his wardrobe) and all the toys he chose were blue. He had an immense sweet tooth, and every time she watched him bite into a blue chocolate chip cookie, she fondly remembered the afternoon she had sat with his mother and watched the ravenous pregnant woman devour an entire tray of those same cookies. He smiled brightly and constantly, always happy and mischievous, just like his mother. But he was also trapped like his mother. He also cried like his mother. And most of all, both good and bad, he loved just as sincerely, as fiercely as his mother.

Every year on Percy’s birthday, this fierce love was demonstrated. A surprise present would arrive, wrapped in shiny blue wrapping paper with only ‘To Percy Jackson’ written on it in loopy, elegant handwriting. Each year the box contained something different, something odd but somehow heartwarming and special. Sometimes he didn’t know why in the world someone would send him these things, but they felt important, and he kept them lined up on the chest of drawers opposite his bed, and counted them each night before he went to bed. At least when he was still living at home. He even had presents from years he didn’t remember, going all the way from his first birthday to his latest.

On his first birthday, he had apparently received a spool of golden thread. For the life of him he couldn’t understand why someone would give a one year old thread. It’s a choking hazard! What were they thinking?! But it was beautiful and shiny, and sometimes he thought it might just be real gold, but he didn’t want to find out if it was. It somehow felt… more than just something for money. He used it only for the most important things, but however much he seemed to unravel, the thread never seemed to end.

On his second birthday, the package was smaller. Sally sat him up and unwrapped it in front of him to reveal a little toy throne. It was small, about the size of an adult hand, and made of hard resin. It was so intricate, coloured like the ocean, even white and frothy in some places, and looked as if it was made with the whorls of the ocean. It had been his favourite little toy for a long time.

His third birthday present was simply a feather. It was beautiful, and no matter how much he crushed the fibres or threw it around, it never lost its perfect shape. It came with a flat metal stand that had a little foam rectangle in the centre so he could stick the tip of the feather into it and leave it as a decoration. The metal stand was simply labelled ‘Pegasus’ and three year old Percy staunchly believed it was a feather from the wing of a Pegasus. Even at the ripe old age of thirteen he sometimes still liked to hope it was a feather from Pegasus, simply so he could believe that magic existed.

For his fourth birthday, he received a framed painting. Even at four years old he thought it was weird, and he still believed it was an absolutely insane present to get a four year old. A painting? Seriously? It was beautiful though, and he appreciated it a lot more once he was older than he did at the time. He didn’t know where it was supposed to show, there was no date and no artist’s signature. The edges showed that the viewer was looking through the mouth of a cave onto some type of secret hidden lake. Trees surrounded the lake, and it had the most beautiful clear water. The artist had even depicted the rocks at the bottom, and sometimes, in the quietest and stillest moments of the day, if he looked really hard at the painting, he could almost see the water lapping at the shore. He could almost hear the gentle chirp of birds and the soft rustle of leaves. The entire painting always made him feel so odd, as if he could feel someone’s else's memories, someone else’s feelings. Someone had been happy there once, but now they only looked at it with sadness, as if a wonderful day by the lake had been ruined by a fight in the car on the way home.

His fifth birthday present was just as odd as the rest of them. He still didn’t quite understand why someone had gifted him five oysters with pearls inside of them. He didn’t believe the pearls were real (that was the only reason he hadn’t pawned or sold them off so he could get some extra money for his Aunt Sally) simply because he had never seen an oyster like that. No one had, not even google. He thought they were pretty though, and kept them lined up on the back of his nightstand rather than on the chest of drawers.

His favourite birthday present, from all those he had ever received, came on his sixth birthday. It was a conch shell, bigger than both the palms of his hands put together, with a dark blue colour that slowly faded to white as it twisted in on itself. Normally when he held it up to his ear, he could hear the sea, but unlike any other conch he had ever listened to. He could hear waves crashing, he could hear the ruffling and snuffling sort of sound they made as they frothed onto the shore. He could hear the swoosh as the waves pulled back. He could even hear the distant sort of gurgling a person hears when they’re underwater in the ocean, the sound of water moving about you. But then, at the darkest parts of the night, when he couldn’t sleep for whatever reason and pressed the shell to his ear, he could hear a gentle voice whispering ‘I love you’. It was soft, but calming and loving, the kind of ‘I love you’ a father whispers to his son just as he puts him to bed. He had never heard the voice before, but secretly he always wished it was somehow the voice of his own father. He tried not to think about that as much anymore. His father simply wasn’t here.

A little zombie looking figurine arrived for his seventh birthday. This one felt a little more kid-appropriate, and he had loved playing with it when he was still into action figures. For a while he hadn’t known what character it was supposed to be, because while it looked like a zombie, it didn’t really look like the zombie figurines he had seen some of the other kids play with. The little circle that connected the two feet of the figurine was engraved with the word ‘Draugr’ and Aunt Sally had had to google that for him. The stories had scared him so much that for a while he had hidden the figure in the back of his toybox.

By the time his eighth birthday had rolled around, he had begun to grow an interest in Greek mythology and the stories of Greek heroes. When he received a little storybook on Perseus and his adventures, he had asked Sally if she was the one sending him the secret presents. It had to be his Aunt Sally. She knew he liked Greek mythology, she had been the one to tell him that he was named after Perseus. Sure, the earlier gifts had been really weird, but maybe she had just become a better gift-giver over time? But Aunt Sally denied it, and when they opened the book, a little picture had been put in as a bookmark. It depicted a cabin high up on the cliffs of the fjords, small but homely looking, and it was simply marked with the word Norway in the bottom corner in that same loopy handwriting. Sally had simply replied “see, it can’t be from me because I’ve never even been to Norway. Plus, kid, have you ever seen me write that neatly?” He had sat there and read the entire book, pushing through even though the letters bounced around and sometimes he had to look completely away to be able to try and focus again. He kept the picture in the book and the book on his nightstand as well. Though he had read it countless times, thumbed each page a million times, the book still looked good as new.

On his ninth birthday he got… a jar of sand. He was pretty disappointed at first, staring at it for a whole minute after he had taken it out of the wrapping. But then he saw that a little label had been pasted onto the top of the metal lid of the jar that simply said ‘Montauk’ and he realised it must be from the beach in front of the cabins they went to every year. It was seemingly sentimental, and it had made Aunt Sally smile all sad and happy and teary that he had told her to keep it in her room, so it would stay safe.

On his tenth birthday, he only received an envelope. It was made of the same shimmery blue paper as the wrapping of all the other gifts he had ever received, and it had the same loopy handwriting, but it had been pushed under the door. Aunt Sally usually got her letters from the box downstairs, he had thought it was weird, but she had told him not to worry, that this must be special because it was his birthday. The only thing in the envelope was a picture. It was square, and about the size of a polaroid, but glossy like it had been taken by a digital camera and printed at some fancy shop. He couldn’t quite tell what it was at first. It looked like it was taken underwater, he could see little flecks of seaweed floating and sand that had been kicked up by the waves and little bubbles here and there. He could see the sandy floor as well, the way some of it was mid-movement with the waves. ‘Midnight on Montauk - where the water meets the sand’ was written on the back, and he thought it was weird that he had gotten two gifts from Montauk now. Nevertheless, he pinned the picture to the corkboard above his chest of drawers.

On his eleventh birthday he got a gold coin. He was so excited at first. This was the first time he had ever gotten money as a present, let alone a frickin’ gold coin! He had even promised Aunt Sally he would take her out for ice cream with the money from the coin. But then he had looked at it again and realised that it was stamped with a trident on both sides. He had suddenly deflated, thinking it was some kind of gimmick coin they sold at souvenir shops (this gift-giver seemed to be way too sentimental) but Aunt Sally had quickly pressed it into his palm and told him to keep it very very safe. He kept it on him at all times now. At least some of his jeans had that little seemingly useless pocket, making it easy for him to carry it around.

His last birthday, the one right before everything went wrong for the millionth time and got him sent to Yancy Academy, had brought a flat box filled with shredded paper. Nestled inside it was a framed weather report from the day he had been born. At the top was the cut out of a headline ‘Largest Storm to Ever Hit Montauk and all of New York’. Below it, there were a bunch of different images, from graphs about the intensity of the rainfall to satellite images of the eye of the storm and the area it covered. He thought it was kind of funny, and he put it up proudly on the chest of drawers. That day was the first time in a long time he had thought the rain on his birthday really meant something again. Maybe it wasn’t something special for him, maybe it was just the weather remembering the storm it had put on that day, and sending some rain in its memory. But it meant something.

Grover heard whispers in his dreams. He never quite remembered what they were, never quite remembered what they said, but he knew that something whispered to him in his sleep. A woman, a soft, lilting voice that sounded just out of reach, was all that he had gleaned thus far. He didn’t know if the forces were good or bad, where the voice came from, but whenever he awoke there was a small niggling feeling inside him that he should be doing something. Deep in the pit of his stomach he felt like he had to be outside Camp Half-Blood, had to be chasing something or maybe finding something. It was an itch that no other satyr duty seemed to satiate. No amount of berries collected, animal cages cleaned, campfires attended made him forget the voice, forget the desire to follow its orders, whatever they may be.

When he got his next mission to escort a demigod back to the camp, everything seemed to click into place inside him. When he was told that he would be responsible for bringing Percy Jackson safely back to the camp, it was like the gods themselves had come in and soothed whatever had been writhing inside him. This was what he had been waiting for. This was what the whispers had commanded for him. And somehow, he knew that this was the most important journey in his entire life…

Three days before Percy’s twelfth birthday, a blue butterfly landed on his hand as he sat outside his latest school. It was the end of his first official week at Yancy Academy, and the school was rather… daunting. All the kids looked at him like he was dirt beneath their shoes and nothing seemed to be clicking with him. He was trying his best. When the kids whispered about him, he ignored it. When they started messing with his things, he just asked his teachers for new notebooks and moved on. Whatever they did, he chose to try peace and quiet. He didn’t want to make life even more difficult for his Aunt Sally, she was already doing everything she could to make sure he had a decent school to go to; this was their last chance and he wasn’t going to be the one that screwed it up.

He sighed and rested his elbows on his crossed legs, staring out at the yard. If nothing else, at least Yancy had a nice garden to look at. He hadn’t noticed the fluttering little creature until it was directly in his line of sight. It took a few turns around in front of his face before landing directly on the tip of his nose. The little legs were slightly ticklish and he breathed out of his mouth to resist the urge to sneeze.

It was beautiful. It almost glowed in the light, like a haze was surrounding its edges, and he reached up to gently touch the tip of its wing. It shattered right in front of his eyes, like a glass breaking against the floor. The little pieces floated all around and landed on his clothes, sticking to his jeans. He stared at his lap, wide eyed. What the- He closed his eyes and took three deep breaths in, a technique one of the many councillors had taught him to try and re-centre himself in the world. When he opened his eyes again, the pieces were still there, like glitter all over his clothes, but they were beginning to fade.

Percy stared at his clothes, at the fading pieces of a butterfly that had somehow flown directly to him then shattered like glass, and stood up with a determination to forget this ever happened. He shook his head, as if to shake his brain into action. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. No one would believe him anyway. This was just another pegasus in the window. He wouldn’t speak of it until the next time he was at home. Aunt Sally could calm him down, Aunt Sally would make him feel better and they would solve this. There was just something fundamentally wrong with him, they needed to fix it soon. With a clench of his fist, he walked back inside, only to bump directly into someone who quickly introduced themselves as Grover Underwood….

“And then Grover beat me, Aunt Sally!” Percy told her excitedly as they sat at the dining table ravenously devouring stacks of blue pancakes. Sally smiled down at the boy, reaching forward and ruffling his curly hair as he shoved another forkful into his mouth.

“Grover sounds awesome, I’m glad you guys found each other,” she told him happily, pretending like the satyr hadn’t already introduced himself as Percy’s guardian. “If you want, you can invite him up here today, we can have a little birthday party.”

“Nah, todays about you and me Aunt Sally,” he smiled brightly up at her, syrup painting the corners of his mouth, and she stood up to press a kiss to the top of his head.

“Alright then mister, have I got plans for you this weekend! I was gonna get us passes for the waterpark today but I knew it was gonna rain so it’s been postponed for tomorrow. Today will start with a swim at the indoor pool in a country club in Manhattan! Someone I know gave me her pass for the weekend,” Sally giggled, reaching out to high five Percy as he exclaimed ‘no way!’.

“Is it Denise? I love Denise,” Percy asked excitedly, momentarily forgetting his plate.

“No, I mentioned to one of my regular customers that it’s your birthday this weekend and that you love to swim so she got us signed up as her guests for the weekend!” Sally explained, smiling triumphantly.

Though she always tried her hardest, sometimes she felt like Percy missed out on a better life because she didn’t make enough money. But Percy simply jumped up and hugged her tightly, whispering a ‘thank you’ against her ear.

“Hold on, you haven’t even heard the entire plan!” She exclaimed, laughing as he pulled away and raised his hands as if in surrender. “Ok, so, then we’re gonna go get ice cream, I found this cool place near the country club that has a bunch of blue ice creams and I thought we could get a scoop of each so we have those cones piled with like ten scoops. Then we’ll come back here for a mov-”

There was a knock at the door. Sally frowned for a second, turning to the door, but there was no other sound and she looked back to Percy as something dawned on her. She smiled gently, a rather wistful look in her eyes all of a sudden, and got up from where she was sitting adjacent to him.

“That must be your special present.” Percy swallowed his latest too-big mouthful and got up from the table to meet Aunt Sally in the hallway.

It was cube shaped this time, about the size of both his palms put together, and it had simply been left in front of their door. Sally brought the box inside and they stood by the window to look at it in the dim grey light from outside. It was covered in that same shiny blue wrapping paper as every other year, and his name was written in that same loopy style with a fresh black pen. His face was contorted in confusion and he took it from Sallys hands, ripping through the wrapping paper to the baby blue cardboard box beneath. He opened that too and Sally watched on curiously as he pulled out something wrapped in bubble wrap. Percy pulled the little pieces of tape holding it together and unfolded the sheet of wrapping to find a snowglobe nestled inside.

The little stand that the orb was perched on was a blue so dark it was almost black, and smooth, without any engraving or description of the scene inside the ball. The globe itself showed a little scene of what looked like a campground, with lots of cabins and a big bonfire in the middle. It even had a little sign pointing in different directions, and had an open-air pavilion near the edge. It was cute, a little fancy, but he had no idea why in the world someone would send this to him. He had never been to camp before, but especially not this camp, whatever it was. He held it up to Sally and frowned at it.

“I have no idea where this is,” he told her, but she was staring at it so intensely that he paused. Percy raised an eyebrow and pushed it toward her. “You know where this is? Have you been here before?” At first Sally didn’t answer, because yes, she knew where it was, she knew exactly what the snow globe was showing her, and she knew that it was a message. It meant that soon, she would have to say goodbye to Percy, and soon Percy would know everything she had been hiding from him his entire life.

“It’s a campground, right?” She asked nonchalantly, “it’s cute though, I like it. Keep it on your dresser, I’m sure one day you’ll know more about it.” And she shrugged as if that day wasn’t coming very soon.

Percy shrugged in return and went to his room to put the snowglobe on the dresser. A beam of sunlight had broken through the clouds and sparkled in the rain right onto his dresser. The water in the painting looked like it was moving again, and a phantom wind ruffled the fibres on the feather. He put the snowglobe between them carefully, directly in the light of the sun, and a little bit of glitter in the globe shined directly onto his eye. He squinted and bent down to look at it again. There, hidden behind one of the cabins because of the way he had been holding it earlier, was a tiny blue butterfly. It was so small it was easy to miss, but it looked exactly like the butterfly that had come to him. Percy felt his heart begin to race. Surely this was a coincidence. He blinked and rubbed his eyes roughly, then looked down at the snowglobe again. It was still there. The butterfly almost looked like it flapped its wings in the sunlight. No, surely not, this was just another sign that he was going crazy, that there was something really wrong with him.

Percy shoved the snowglobe behind the painting and walked right back out to find Aunt Sally. She was sitting on the sofa waiting for him, smiling when he came over to her, but quickly her lips drooped into a frown at the look on his face.

“Hey buddy, what’s wrong?” She asked, pulling him down to sit beside her.

“Aunt Sally, I seriously think there’s something wrong with me. It’s happening again, it’s exactly like the horse on the rooftop and I-I don’t kno-”

“Hey. Ok, let’s take a deep breath. Ok, good, one, two, three, four, ok now big release. Alright, good, now, start from the beginning.” She gently cupped his cheek for a moment before folding her hands in her lap and watching his face.

“I was sitting in the garden at Yancy, I don’t know, I’d had kind of a crummy day, I guess, but then suddenly this butterfly came fluttering to me. Aunt Sally, I have never seen a butterfly like that. It’s like it wasn’t real. It was all shiny and like-like it was glowing? I don’t know, it just didn’t seem like it actually existed. But it came right up to me and landed on my nose. And I thought that was so cool, so I kinda just reached up and touched it. I mean, I didn’t even really touch it, the tip of my finger kinda just brushed it, but then it burst. I don’t even know, it shattered like it was made of glass. And that’s crazy because that’s not possible. Animals don’t shatter like that, nothing real shatters like that and just disappears. It broke into glitter and was all over me! I was trying to brush it off but it-it just wouldn’t come off, and then slowly, it just started to… fade away. Just like that. Ugh, I don’t know Aunt Sally, I seriously think there’s something wrong with me. I mean, it’s not normal to be seeing visions, even I know that.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you. I believe you,” she added simply, staring at him as if everything he had just said was the most important words to ever have come out of someone’s mouth.

“What?” Percy tilted his head and looked at her with a frown, as if suddenly she was the crazy one, not him.

“I believe you. I believe that that happened to you, but we’ll talk about that some other time.” She smiled sadly at him, reaching out to gently brush the hair away from his forehead. Percy scoffed, pulling back from her slightly.

“What does that even mean? You just said you believed me, we need to talk about it now.”

“Percy, when the time is right, we’ll talk about it,” Sally sighed, knowing she couldn’t delay this conversation for much longer. She just wanted him to be a kid as long as possible… “But today is your birthday, and we’re supposed to be having fun before you go back to school. So come on,” she clapped her hands and stood up, “there is a bag of blue jelly beans sitting in the kitchen with your name on it!” She sing-songed.

“But Aunt Sally-”

“Percy. Some other time.” Her lips were set in a line and her tone left no more room for argument. Sally left him to go to her room to start packing a backpack with stuff they would need for the pool, while Percy made his way to the kitchen and began slowly chewing on blue jelly beans, his mind stuck on the butterfly.

That night, after a long day of swimming, and a little too much sugar, Sally sat in the middle of little garden they had made on their floor of the fire escape and let the rain douse her. She had already shoved a hungover Gabe into bed and locked the door on him in case he wanted to come back out and make any noise that disturbed Percy, and now, under the rain, she let her thoughts wander to the past thirteen years.

Life with Percy had been as beautiful and loving as it had been difficult. She had known, from the beginning, that Percy would not be a normal kid. As much as his parents wanted him to be, as much as she wanted it for him, it simply wouldn’t happen. He was too special, the product of two worlds too incomprehensible.

She remembered all the calls to schools. He couldn’t sit still, he couldn’t learn, he was too ‘disruptive’, too ‘distracted’. Each time it boiled her blood, broke her heart, because he wasn’t even made for this world, but these people had the audacity to reduce this child to what they considered bad things. She remembered all the times he would cry, clinging to her with his little hands wondering why he couldn’t be like the other kids, why he couldn’t focus like other kids or why he couldn’t study like the other kids, why he didn’t have parents like the other kids…

She remembered the first time she had told little Percy about his dad. How excited he had been to learn that somewhere out there, he did have parents, parents who loved him and wanted to be with him but for some inexplicable reason, couldn’t. She had seen the way he had slowly dismissed that childish hope as he grew up, how he stopped asking about his mom, how he stopped wondering if he looked like his dad. He never asked anymore.

The day she had used the coin suddenly floated to the front of her mind as she wiped the water from her eyes. She remembered it vividly. It had been a bad day. The baddest of days at that point. Percy was struggling, and she was on edge. There was a storm. It was still the years when she had been scared of storms, when they reminded her of the day Percy was born, the fear in Y/n’s eyes, the pain in Poseidon’s. She had driven them away from yet another school and decided to stop at a diner for lunch. Maybe ice cream would improve Percy’s mood.

They had eaten in silence, neither of them ready to talk to the other. She had tried to make a few jokes before the food came, hoping to lift Percy’s mood, but he had simply pushed the salt and pepper shakers around the table and mumbled answers to her. After that she had given up on her attempts and sat in silence, staring out of the window and stewing in her own struggles. Maybe this was her breaking point, she thought. Maybe this was the moment when she couldn’t raise Percy anymore. She was struggling, and the last thing she wanted to do was to ruin his life because she couldn’t cope with raising a godly child. What could she do? No one could understand her situation, she couldn’t even talk to anyone about it. Was this the time to send him to camp? Was it the time to let him go, for his sake? Tears had begun to prick at her eyes but she wiped them away as the server had come by.

They had finished their mains, and she had ordered a sundae for Percy in as excited a voice as she could manage, glad to see a little smile begin to curl at his lips. The server had engaged with him as well, asking him what toppings he wanted and how many ‘extras’ to add before telling the chef he wanted chocolate sauce. She had smiled at the server in thanks before telling Percy to stay put as she got up from the stall and went to the bar to settle the bill.

At the bar, she asked for a glass of tap water and the bill, and when the bartender had deposited both, she pulled a coin out of her pocket. It was gold, and had tridents embossed on both sides. Even though she’d had it for years now, it hadn’t lost its shine. She brought the cup of water closer to her and flipped the coin over it, watching it twist in the air before falling into the water with a little ‘plonk’. She closed her eyes and whispered two names to herself, over and over and over. A crack of thunder shook through the diner, as if the storm was right overhead. She opened her eyes and stared into the glass of water as the door to the diner opened and someone walked in. The stool beside her was pulled out, and someone settled onto it with a slight creak. The sleeve of their shirt brushed against hers and the smell of salty sea air suddenly seemed to waft around her. She closed her eyes and whispered one of the names again, but nothing changed. Tears pricked at her eyes again, and she stared ahead of her, unable, unwilling, to look at the man that had settled down beside her.

“This isn’t fair,” she whispered, a tear escaping down her cheek.

“No, it isn’t,” he replied quietly, his gruff voice comforting and painful at the same time.

“And I am failing.” She clenched her hands around the cup of water at the uncomfortable truth of it all. More tears slipped out of her eyes now, easier than the first.

“No, you’re not,” he answered instantly, and still neither of them looked at each other. For all anyone knew, they were strangers sitting beside each other at a bar. Sally closed her eyes and gulped, her eyes fluttering open as breathing became just that little more painful as she tried to keep a handle on herself.

“I’m going to take him to camp,” she told him, releasing her grip around the glass of water and pushing it forward slightly.

“Are you sure?” He asked simply, as if it was a casual decision, but she could still hear the gravity in the statement.

“What choice do I have?” She whispered, “he and I living together in the city…” she paused, taking in a deep breath, “it’s starting to attract attention from your world.” He didn’t say anything, just pressed his lips together and stared at the floor behind the bar with an intensity that would make it crack if he truly wanted it to. “A winged horse followed him to school.” She let the statement settle into the air. “It saw him, he saw it. Sooner or later it’s not gonna be just pretty things that are following him,” she breathed out, shaking her head slightly and looking up to the ceiling as the tears pushed from her eyes again.

It was so painful to sit here, mere steps from Percy, with the father he couldn’t meet. It was so painful, knowing that soon she would have to let him go, to let him fight his own battles. It was so painful knowing that there were forces much bigger than her little self, controlling everything, and making life so difficult for the beautiful little boy sitting just over there.

“At camp, he will be safe,” she nodded to herself, taking a sharp breath in and staring at the ceiling, trying to convince herself that this was the best idea.

“You don’t want him at camp,” he answered simply, as if he could look into her mind and see everything that she was thinking, as if he could look directly at her heart and see the immense amount of love she felt for that child.

“No,” she breathed out painfully, “no, I don’t,” and she almost began crying with the words, clenching her eyes shut and shaking her head.

“Tell me why,” he stated as he stared down at the wood of the bar but his attention was fully on her.

“You don’t wanna know why,” she scoffed lightly, shaking her head and looking to the ceiling again. Then she smiled, a rueful, exasperated little smile as he let out a huff of a chuckle.

“Probably not. But you have no one to say it to, and maybe that’s the most unfair part of it.” He paused, just for a moment, but her heart began to feel a little lighter somehow. “You say it, and I will listen.” They were silent, sitting together and listening to the quiet sounds of the bar, the clinking of spoons and glasses and plates, the rush of water inside the dishwasher.

“I want him to know who he is, before your worlds try to tell him who they want him to be,” her voice was forceful, verging on spiteful. “He is better than that, he has better things in him than that.” She was full of conviction, this was a truth she knew better than anything else in the world. Poseidon continued staring at the bar as he spoke.

“Then you have your answer. He’s going to go to school, and he’s going to learn things you can’t teach him there, and it’s going to be hard for the both of you. And it’s going to be torture for the both of you. But he will be stronger for it on the other side. His aunt raised him well.” And her tears flowed again, as if something in her chest released but brought with it a stabbing pain of everything that could not be.

“Do you wanna talk to him?” She asked through tears, hoping against all hope that he would say yes. “I know you shouldn’t,” she began, trying to convince him somehow. “Maybe just hear his voice,” she whispered, but there was another crack of thunder in the sky, and Poseidon turned away, listening as if he could hear things she could not.

“One day,” he simply whispered, and when she looked up to finally meet his eyes, to finally look at him again after so many years, no one was sitting there.

She sat at the bar for another few minutes, staring into the glass of water as if it had all the answers, but not one reason floated up for the absence of the boy’s mother.

For thirteen years, you watched your son’s life in snippets. It was like a faulty connection on a tv, darkness one moment, then a flash of Percy smiling as he opened the new mystery present that had been left at his door. A moment of beauty and excitement as you watched him uncover pieces of the world that you and his father had created, the world that led to his being. Then darkness once more, a year of knowing nothing about his life no matter how hard you tried, then Percy crying in Sally’s arms, sobbing about his latest struggles at school, and a pain so sharp in your heart that you almost abandoned secrecy to go to him, then darkness again. You didn’t know why it was like this. Why you didn’t get to watch over him as you so hoped before he was born, why even a distant relationship was stolen from you. You spent days climbing over the roots of Yggdrasil, peering into different worlds and hoping to see Percy living his life. Even if you found a branch that looked into Midgard, you saw only the mountains, with little dots of people climbing up them that left you amused for a moment, or boats on the ocean that made your heart ache desperately for your husband.

But you didn’t question it much either. Maybe it was his position between the two worlds of gods, the magic of the Fates and the Norns interfering with your powers, the mist cloaking him better than you had hoped.

You continued with your life as it had been long before you knew of the existence of the Greek Pantheon. You filled your position as a good goddess should, protecting the people from threats bigger than them, refusing to interfere with the machinations of demigods and their quests. You had no way of knowing that this obstruction of your view was unnatural. How would you know that someone else’s designs were at play here? How could you possibly know that your own father was stopping you from hearing the desperate prayers meant for you, the pleas of your dear friend when she felt she could not cope?

As you sat there beside Odin at the feast table, looking up to your father with reverence as he smiled cheerfully down at you, how were you to know he was actively hiding your son from you?

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