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kameyyy · 15 days ago

Text

#recs

this didn’t fit anymore lmao😭

try again

part 0.11. HERE TO STAY

“on the other side of the wall, she’s listening to her client with a smile on her face. she’s a professional; she’s been trained to multitask and take notes while still listening and providing feedback to her clients. right now, she’s clicking off a tab back to the one filled with bullet points on things her client has said. she always knows when he arrives. she hears the left door open, which she knows because it squeaks more than the one on the right. he always uses the left door (she thinks it has something to do with the fact that more people touch the handle of the right door on their way in) and his paces are always steady down the creaky hallway. her last sign that he's here is the chair he sits in every time, the one right next to the door into her rooms. the legs are the slightest bit uneven and the back of the chair will lightly tap against the wall as its way of letting her know of her welcome guest. she already has her queue of songs up. she’s always hated her thin walls until he started coming in. a lot has changed in her life since he's come back, hasn't it?"

content warnings: the big finale which isn't that dramatic! i'm sorry for my bad writing! y/n dad reveal! breaking news: her dad is an asshole! tad bit of violence, one mention of blood and also just cursing and abusive fathers </3

he insists on paying and she doesn’t argue with him about it for long; she’ll have countless more opportunities to steal the check from him, she hopes.

she feels better when she's finally eaten after a day of nervous nausea and time spent anxiously bouncing her knee. on top of that, she’d been with him for the majority of the day, distracting her from what had happened in the morning. he even listened to her issues, and she’s finally starting to believe the promise that he’s here to stay.

they’ve just stepped off the train, and her apartment building is only a few minutes away. he walks alongside her the entire time, their arms brushing each other ever so often. whether it’s on purpose or not, neither of them will fess up.

he’s only distracted from his time spent mindlessly reaching his arm out just the slightest bit more to hit hers ever so often when he feels a buzz in his pocket. he slips out his phone quickly to check its screen:

akaashi’s a moment too late, because they’ve just made it up the stairs to her floor.

she’s already seen him, and he’s already seen her.

she wants to puke.

he’s there, arguing with iwaizumi outside their door. his sunken eyes and gaunt face make her stomach twist with guilt, but a brush from omi’s knuckles reminds her where she is again. it’s not her job to take care of him. it never was, and it never will be.

"you," the man is pointing a finger towards her, stumbling forward and she immediately shrinks back like a shriveling flower, losing her confidence. omi's already standing in front of her without even thinking about it, putting a barrier between the two.

the old man keeps talking as if he can see right through him, though “you’re a disrespectful worthless piece of shit, you know that? can’t ever in your life put even a single person about yourself. here you are living with a bunch of boys. what are you, a whore? do you suck them off so they’ll keep the bad guys away? they’re doing a shit job at it. i’m standing here after, all, aren’t i?”

“it’s not like that,” her voice is quiet and weak, and she’s not even sure it makes it to the man’s ears.

“you can’t think about anyone else. you're too selfish. you won’t even answer your own father’s calls much less say anything to him at all–”

“i told you to back off!” her voice comes out loud this time, louder than she means for it to, “i’ve told you to back off so many times but you just don’t listen,” she steps out from behind omi, standing next to him instead while the man in front of them stops at the sound of her voice, “these are my roommates and my closest friends. i'm living with them because they genuinely care about me and aren't using me for any purpose, something you can't even dream about. the only reason you’re still standing here is that they have enough self-control and respect for me that they won't beat up the man i regrettably call my father.”

omi’s gaze slides over to hers, trying to see if she’ll meet his eyes. he’s simultaneously trying to communicate how proud of her he is and let her know that he'll support her no matter what happens.

“take that back,” her father spits, starting to curl his fingers into a fist. she stays silent, and his face begins to flush an angry red. “you’re only proving my point. you’re just an ungreatful little girl who thinks she no longer has to care about anyone else because she's older. i took care of you your whole life and i will not have you ignoring me for the rest of my fucking life!” the smell of beer invades her senses as he steps closer.

“you did jackshit in my life! you never helped me with anything I asked you to. never bought me anything i needed, you've never cared about me. i’ve grown up and moved out. i can do whatever i damn please and i told you to leave me alone. maybe if you respected me i wouldn't ignore you, but that's impossible for you,” she retorts, standing her ground.

“don’t you fucking talk to me like that–” he nears her, only a few steps between them and she starts to feel the panic in her chest, “your stubbornness is the reason your mother left–”

“my stubbornness?” she can’t help but fight back. that’s what separates her from her past self. her younger self ran away, left home as soon as she could to live on her own, but now she’s grown into who she is today, and she won’t let him ruin that. “you treated your wife like shit and refused to change no matter how many times she screamed and argued with you right in front of me about how horrible you were. you've never fixed anything because you’re so stuck up and think you’re so high and mighty that she decided to pack up her bags and leave–”

“then why did she leave you behind too?”

it’s like her heart stops beating for a second. her blood runs cold before her vision is a blur and the face of the man is crushed right in front of her, sending him to the ground groaning. his hand is covering his nose, preventing her from seeing how badly damaged it is, but she can’t find it in her to care.

“don’t blame her for your faults. grow up and take responsibility for your shit. she deserved better than either of you,” omi is talking down on the man now, and she looks up from her father’s body to the fist of the boy beside her, bruised and a little red.

he’s been by her side since day one, and maybe he disappeared for a section of it, but now he’s back. they're back together, and she stands proudly beside him, “she left me too, but i can’t be mad at her for being sick of you. or us. whatever it is, you’re both selfish and her absence nor yours is something i’m mourning over. i’m happy to have left you too and for the last time, i never want to see you again”

iwaizumi has joined them, standing above the man, no trace of sympathy in his eyes despite the blood that's streaking down her father's face. he tries to get up, only for iwaizumi to keep him down on the ground with a foot on his shoulder, “you heard her. don’t ever show your fucking face around here again. i’ll kill you the moment i lay eyes on you.” iwaizumi’s olive eyes move from the ground to meet hers, slightly softening when he sees her, “are you done with him? i’ll make sure he gets out of here and stays away for good.”

omi’s words from the diner rush back to her head, and she doesn’t feel so bad for relying on her friend. she believes he's willing to help her, and she won’t let her father’s words get to her head. she’s cared for others, unlike him, and developed relationships that she’s earned by giving out her own love. “yeah, i’m done,” her voice is quiet again as she keeps looking at her friend, searching his eyes for any sort of annoyance. but she can’t find any, and she smiles, walking towards him, wrapping her arms around him. “thank you, iwaizumi.”

he has an arm around her shoulders, his foot still resting on her father. “always,” he replies simply before she leaves him embrace, gesturing for omi to follow her. “i’m going to take care of his fist, now.”

iwaizumi only nods, turning his attention back to the man on the ground omi following his gaze as he passes by. iwaizumi will do more than a good enough job at keeping his word, he knows that, but he feels like he should have some part in taking care of the man whose plagued the girl in front of him for her entire life.

but she hasn’t asked him to take care of the man in front of her, and he knows its not his place. she knows she does not resent the man to the point that she wishes harm upon him, she simply wishes that he would leave her alone. and iwaizumi will make sure that wish is honored, and omi should be satisfied with the hit he landed on the man’s nose.

before her hand can even reach the knob of the door, it swings open and she’s pulled inside by the arms of a black-haired man who he recognizes to be akaashi. kita is standing beside him, a hand on [y/n]’s shoulder as they both check on her for any injuries or harm.

he hasn’t seen kita since his days in high school when he was the captain of inarizaki; atsumu told him he had moved out to the countryside but he must have come back after some time. he feels like a weight is lifted off his chest at the sight of her in the arms of his roomates, and he knows that she is cared for. that she has found her people, just like he told her earlier that night, and he hopes that she’s starting to accept his words as the truth.

he’s happy just watching her from afar, but she breaks apart from akaashi’s hug to gesture him in, and kita shuts the door behind him. “omi, this way,” she says with a smile on her face, beckoning him with a hand.

it’s the first time she’s called him by that old name since high school, and he thinks he’s falling even harder for her if that’s possible. she makes him sit on a stool in the kitchen while she searches her cabinets and a nearby closet for medical supplies. she’s begun to apply an ointment to his hand when he opens his mouth, “i can’t believe you think your roomates would ever leave you. look at how they all came to make sure you were okay. mine are one fight away from starting to vote people to kick out of the apartment nearly every week.”

she laughs at his comment, unwrapping a roll of bandages, “i’m sure no one would ever vote for you if that happened, but i guess you’re right, they’re pretty good, aren’t they?”

he nods, watching her face while she’s focused on his hand, “are you doing okay?”

she hums back in response, “yeah. the thing about my mom leaving me behind too kind of stung, but i don’t think life would’ve been any better with her, so it shouldn’t really hurt that bad. i’ll be okay. what you said at the diner really helped, you know. i feel like I can trust myself to say what i'm thinking rather than being scared i'm wrong or selfish. i can trust that it's not egotistical to believe my roomates don’t actually hate me. and that you don’t hate me. so i feel like i’ve finally escaped the weight of my dad’s words always crushing me and playing down anything i do.”

he reaches a hand up with his uninjured hand to wipe away tears from her face she didn't even realize were falling. and then he keeps his hand there, caressing the side of her face. “i don’t hate you, i never have. this entire time…how i feel about you is quite the opposite,” the words are slightly too intimate for him and as soon as they escape his mouth, it becomes hard to swallow and his face feels a little hot, but he doesn’t remove the hand from her cheek. he opts to say something more neutral next, “you did well, talking back down to him. i think you could’ve taken him down yourself.”

she chuckles at that, tying a knot to finish his bandage, “that’s what you think, but i’m sure i’d break my thumb or something. and if i have a hot man to defend me? i’m not lifting a finger.”

“you think i’m hot?” he says with a smile.

her cheeks grow warm under his hand, but she can’t look or move away from him, “i’m pretty sure thousands of people think so. it’s like a fact; newspapers can make money off of just having your face on the front page even if they barely mention you or don’t focus on sports at all.”

“well none of that matters,” he’s smiling softly now, and she’s still looking into his dark-colored eyes, hands holding his wrapped hand, “it just matters what you think.”

“what i think?” she repeats. and maybe it’s the adrenaline from the encounter they just had, or his boldness rubbing off on her in this current moment, but her next words come out clear and confident, “i think i love you, and i have for years. even when you left, i never stopped loving you.”

“i’m gonna make up for those years, you know,” he whispers back, pulling her by the sides to stand between his legs, bringing her closer. “i know i love you. i’d be a fool not to. and i loved you back then in high school too, even if i didn’t know it. i swear, losing you made me realize how much i took you for granted and everything became clear. letting you disappear was the worst mistake i ever made. i’ll make up for that lost time. make it up to you to the the point that you’re sick of me and you forget we were ever even separated for a time in our lives.”

“oh? and how are you gonna do that?” there’s a breathless feeling growing inside of her chest, where her heart beating fast with his confession and the way she's allowing him to pull her face close to this.

“starting with this,” his breath is hot against her lips before he closes the gap between them, and she’s kissing him back. she doesn't mourn or wish for the past, or for anything to change. he's come back and that's all that matters. she's happy with the word again. she likes it better than a phrase like "we fell in love at first sight." instead, she can say, "we met again. we fell in love again.

"we tried again."

it sounds like a story that reminds people endings aren't set in stone. she likes it.

“by the way, have you been playing songs for me in your lounge room when i’m waiting for you?”

“oh, you noticed?”

"the more you love your friends the more their features start to blur until all you remember is a pair of warm, welcoming eyes and laughter that feels like home."

prev. | m.list

extras <3

this is the end! thank you for reading try again <3

that last little quote is something i should've included like two chapters ago but it got lost in my gallery so here it is now <3

y/n's a good therapist i swear!!! she takes like one second to hit a play on a spotify playlist she's not playing games on her computer for entire sessions 😭

this is all i have tbh! i hope you enjoyed a little bit of this story <3 thank you so so much for being along on this ride w me!!

taglist: @eggyrocks @wyrcan @guitarstringed-scars @strawberryuri @violetesensou @kakeru-eem @glmge @heytheredemonsss @mollyrolls @bemebiu @daszy @snail-squasher @0moonii @thiisisntlovely @todorokiskitten @rory-cakes @iiwaijime @iatethemochi @yuminako @savemebrazilhinata @kismyscars @bokutoko @nobodybutnnoorr @wolffmaiden @daisy-room @softpia @lees-chaotic-brain @v3nusplanetofluv @crispchocolates @phoenix-eclipses @hhoneyhan @encrypta @rockleeisbaeeee @cr4yolaas @zombriesworld @localgaytrainwreck @moucheslove @hibernatinghamster @notverymarley @certaindreampost @akaakeis @ciderscape @lucien-luna @strawbrinkofdeath @wave2mia @samuel1004 @01trickster10 @dazqa @cosmiicdust @chemiru

#i hope 30 tags will be enough for this ness because !!! oh my god !!! this chapter !!! this ending !!! is so incredibly beautiful I love it!#like wdym this is MID ????? NO !!!! I felt so many emotions when I read this you wouldn’t even know #starting off strong with #“what are you a whore? do you suck them off [...]?” UHM NESS ??? MY JAW DROPPED ???? LIKE IT D R O P P E D #and then yn's part with “[...] but you just dont listen” I could practically feel and hear her pain #like I think I heard her voice??#“[...] I regrettably call my father” UHM HELLO ??? OMG ??? NESS ??? THAT HIT ME SO HARD I FELT LIKE YN'S DAD WHEN OMI PUNCHED HIM ???????#“your stubborness is the reason your mother left” WHEN I TELL YOU I GASPED !!!!!!! NESS OH MY GOD !!!#I think I never hated a fictional person this much in my entire life holy shit THE AUDACITY ????#omi should've went for a second punch !!!! that man deserves it so bad omg.. and also omi was lowkey hot so like tehee #“I feel like I can trust myself to say what I'm thinking rather than being scared I'm wrong or selfish.” ness dear I think you're #a little to personal now.. like you're hitting a little too close to home and it's crazy how you did this for the second time already #“I can trust that it's not egoistical to believe my roomates don’t actually hate me.” ness honey do you by chance read my diary or sum ???#OH ALSO OMG “you think I'm hot?” OMI YES YES YES JUST THIS QUESTION MADE YOU 1000 TIMES HOTTER !!!!!!!!#“I'm gonna make up for those years you know” ness I wrote those quotes down on a goodnotes page and I literally drew butterflies next to #this quote okay like I'm not joking this gave me lowkey butterflies and made me physically draw them on my ipad #“I *know* I love you” omi can I like kiss you rn and make you my wife ?? and you too ness ?? please ??#“we tried again” NESS I'M SOBBING !!!! CRYING TEARS AND MY HEART IS HEALING BUT ALSO ACHING AT THE SAME TIME !!!#“endings aren't set in stone” BUT THIS ONE IS 😔#jk what I actually wanted to say is that you're lowkey all philosophical rn and it's so gorgeous and touching #like I disassociated (/pos) for a few minutes when I read this because it's just so true and this fic just hit so close to home #it's a little scary tbh #I count “try again” definetly as one of my favorite fics out there simply because it's just so gorgeous and the psychological/philosophical #narrative is just so different from other fics and also so beautiful and kt made me reflect/think about the things in my life more than #before I discovered this fic here in particular. the last few chapters just hit especially so close to home no matter if omi's side or yn's #i just felt a little more seen and heard and a little lighter that there are other people who struggle with the same things as I do and that #i'm not all alone which is something I thought before. I really hold this fic close to my heart and I especially love the ending you chose #and I don’t think its mid or nothing special.. it is very special and incredibly good to me. i'm excited to read more of your works ness #even if it's not as “deep”/“heavy” likr this one since try again has this narrative especially because yn is a therapist. i really really #love this fic <3 i love try again with my whole heart and I'm so glad that I have discovered it alongside you <3

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adispit · 4 months ago

Text

A Second Life

god x m! priest reader

Summary: Transmigrated into a new world with seemingly new beginnings, a strange god takes an interest in you.

Content warnings: very dark, non consensual touching and watching, dubcon (reader submits but isn’t really having a great time), barely any foreplay (very unrealistic), penetrative anal sex, belly bulge, size difference, overstimulation (?) if you squint, religious themes

note: Like half way through I realised the plot went off the rails but it was too late because I had already deleted a draft before this 😭 and I was gonna give up at that point so I don’t really like this 😞 but either wise, hope you enjoy and sorry for the wait!!

At first, you were thoroughly dismayed when you discovered you had been transmigrated into the world of the novel, Tyrant’s Intense Love. The night before, you had been engrossed in the romance novel that revolved around the familiar trope of a female and male lead overcoming numerous trials before finally falling in love. Unfortunately for you, you had transmigrated into a minor background character—one who was entirely inconsequential and had not appeared in a single chapter of the story. You inhabited the body of a priest devoted to Kallos, the god of light who presided over the continent. As part of the temple’s ranks, you were one of the numerous lowly priests responsible for prayer, fasting, and delivering sermons. Your duties were equally modest; you were tasked with dusting and maintaining the cleanliness of the temple. Before your transmigration, your life had been equally mundane. You were a corporate office worker who relied on far too many beers to handle the endless stream of projects your coworkers offloaded onto you. Enduring sleepless nights and relentless deadlines, your personal life was just as bleak and unfulfilling. The sole solace you found was in reading novels that transported you to fantastical romances you longed to experience.

With the simple goal of finding your true soulmate in this new life, you fervently declared your intent, only to quickly discover that such aspirations were impossible. As a priest of the Light Temple, you were required to maintain your chastity to demonstrate the purity of your devotion to the god of light. This seemed utterly absurd. After all, the renowned saintess from the novel had countless secret night rendezvous with the male lead, the crown prince, long before their relationship became official. It felt profoundly unjust and even scandalous, to say the least…. You couldn’t leave either as a priest of age in the temple, you weren’t allowed to leave. That was several years ago, back when you first transmigrated. You’ve somewhat come to terms with your fate and reality. Being a lowly priest isn’t so bad, after all. Despite the modest nature of your role and the boring nature of your duties, you have a roof over your head and food to eat, all provided by the temple. You weren’t one to complain. Given your timid and meek disposition, this role suited you well. There were no coworkers to harass or manipulate with office politics, and the absence of a demanding family was a relief. The life you led here wasn’t so bad. The body you had inhabited had belonged to an orphan adopted by the temple at a young age, and your name, like his, was (Name).

Kallos had grown weary of ruling over this world through countless cycles. Each millennium seemed as vexing as the last, with his creations remaining nothing more than soulless puppets, trapped in their predetermined fates. His sanity deteriorated further with each passing decade. Yet, something peculiar marked this cycle. He had observed a disturbance—a single priest possessed by a soul that clearly did not belong to this world. Though he could not pinpoint when he began to scrutinize you through his bronze mirror in the heavens, it had become a daily ritual for him to watch you. You were the lone human who exhibited a spark of life and vitality in this dull and monotonous world. It was so interesting to him, how a mere and fragile human, like you who exhibited little to no threat in the face of his divinity, had somewhat been a variable out of his control. A soul that wasn’t part of this world. As his sanity had been worn down through out centuries, what had been left was a sick obsession and interest in you as he saw you as a precious treasure, no, a plaything he had to have. He was a patient god, as given by his endurance through ages of rule. He would bide his time and wait to claim you.

Yes, he was patient, but he was also greedy. After a few years of watching you through the bronze mirror he once used to gaze upon the mortals, he felt he had waited long enough. With a sinister grin spreading across his face, he set his plans into motion.

Ironically, you never really had any faith in the god of light, Kallos, despite the fact that you were a priest, having to worship him. It was probably due to the fact you were from another world. You also didn’t have any of the light mana that priests and saints had, it was an ethereal power bestowed upon them as they entered the temple and led lives devoted to the god. Instead, your duties remained simple: cleaning the temple, dusting ancient artifacts, and tending to the garden, not that you didn’t like it. Not to mention, recently, you couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling that someone was constantly watching you, even though you were alone. You had brought this concern to your fellow priests, but their response was dismissive, insisting that no one would dare prey upon one of Kallos' children. Despite their reassurances, the sense of being observed persisted. However, your worries were the least of your concerns as you were selected to be one of the brides of Kallos in the temple. This unorthodox ritual never happened in the novel before and you had no idea how this happened. Hadn’t the novel gone a little off the rails? When you had questioned the elders why, they had replied with a harsh snap that you had been idling far too long in the temple and it was time to partake in your duties properly which just confused you further.

Now, you found yourself seated while Eli, one of the oracles, fussed with your hair. Having been in this world for some time, you had made a few friends, and Eli was among them. Despite her blindness, she was gifted with the ability to see the future, a paradoxical blessing given her condition. Eli was like a mother figure to you, often chiding you for overexerting yourself while working in the garden. Your workaholic tendencies had landed you in her clinic more times than you could count, and her concern for your well-being was a constant, caring presence in your life. Despite her typically vibrant and exuberant demeanor, she was unusually subdued today. In an attempt to lift her spirits, you said with a light-hearted tone, “Eli, it’s not like Kallos is going to choose someone like me—a humble priest who’s constantly laboring in the simple garden among all the stunning contenders. I mean, I’ve heard he has a penchant for…” Your voice faltered as the conversation grew uncomfortable, and you looked down, trailing off. Instead of her usual witty retort or playful response, she gazed blankly ahead with her pale, milky eyes.

Suddenly, a wave of panic washed over her. She gripped your shoulders tightly, her hands making your strands of untouched hair fall against your back, and spoke urgently, “(Name), listen to me! You’re in imminent dan—mmphm!!” Her words were abruptly cut off as if her mouth had been sealed. A bell rang, signaling the brides selected to enter the cathedral for the ritual. A servant firmly took your arm and guided you away from Eli, who sat silently, tears streaming down her face as she listlessly stared into space. As you were led down the grand corridor, the distant echoes of the bell grew fainter. The solemnity of the cathedral loomed ahead, its familiar grandeur both awe-inspiring and intimidating. You glanced back one last time, catching a fleeting glimpse of Eli's tear-streaked face and her desolate expression. The servant’s grip on your arm tightened, making it clear there was no turning back.

Entering the cathedral, you were greeted by the hushed whispers of the assembled crowd and the flickering light of countless candles. The atmosphere was heavy with anticipation and formality. The brides, dressed in their opulent gowns, stood in a stately line, their faces a mixture of nervousness and resolve. You were dressed in a simple garb—a modest robe that seemed almost out of place amidst the grandeur. As you took your place among them, your thoughts were a whirl of confusion and dread. The urgency in Eli's voice and her silent plea echoed in your mind, making it hard to focus on the ceremony ahead.

As the final bell tolled, the grand doors of the cathedral swung closed, signaling the start of the ritual. The priests and priestesses, draped in elaborate garments, assumed their positions at the altar with precision and reverence. A solemn chant began, its rhythmic, hypnotic cadence filling the air.

You, along with the other brides, were directed to kneel before the altar. The heavy scent of incense mingled with the cool, echoing silence of the cathedral, creating an almost otherworldly atmosphere. The low, resonant hum of the priests’ chants, punctuated by the bishop’s otherworldly murmurs, enveloped the space.

A sudden, blinding light illuminated you, casting your figure in stark relief against the darkness. Gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd as the light intensified. Then, a loud, resonant voice cut through the reverent murmur: “I have chosen my bride.”

Shock overwhelmed you as a single thought raced through your mind: “Why!?” Yet, there was no time for questions as a surge of energy enveloped you. The grandeur of the cathedral began to dissolve, and the very fabric of reality shimmered and blurred. The chanting and murmurs of the crowd faded into a distant echo, replaced by a profound, ethereal silence. A radiant light, more brilliant than anything you had ever seen, surrounded you. The sensation was both soothing and overwhelming as if you were being lifted from the earth. The cathedral’s walls, the solemnity, and the weight of the ritual vanished, and you felt yourself ascending through a luminous expanse.

In an instant, you found yourself in a realm of breathtaking beauty. The sky above was a cascade of colors, shifting gently like a cosmic aurora. The air was filled with a sweet, harmonious melody, and the very ground beneath you seemed to sparkle with celestial light. The landscape was serene and otherworldly, with ethereal gardens and radiant structures floating in a tranquil sea of light.

Although beautiful, the celestial landscape seemed to radiate a certain sense of coldness and loneliness. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” a rich, magnetic voice remarked from behind you. Whipping around, you found yourself facing a man bathed in radiant light. His flowing white hair cascaded to his ankles, and his crimson eyes seemed to pierce right through you, exuding an intense, mesmerizing gaze. You had to admit that he was incredibly attractive, radiating an otherworldly charm and a palpable sense of power that left a profound impression on you. “Kallos?” you asked meekly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yes. (Name), my beloved bride. I’ve been waiting for you for quite some time, my dearest. Come, follow me into my humble abode.” He smiled with a captivating amusement, his lips curving into a knowing and irresistibly charming expression as he beckoned you to follow him. His intimate address was slightly intimidating, but you brushed off the feeling and stepped obediently behind him.

As you followed him, the grandeur of the palace unfolded before you. The corridors were lined with walls that shimmered with soft, golden light, and the air was filled with a gentle, harmonious melody that seemed to resonate through the very fabric of the space.

Kallos led you through halls adorned with intricate, glowing patterns and serene, floating tapestries.

He guided you to a magnificent chamber, its design both luxurious and inviting. The room was bathed in a warm glow, with furnishings that seemed to float effortlessly in the air, their delicate forms illuminated by a soft, radiant light.

As you entered, Kallos turned to you, his gaze filled with an intensity that made your heart race. “This is where we will be,” he said softly, his voice a soothing balm amidst the splendor. “You must be hungry. Here, have a fruit.” Kallos extended a golden fruit towards you, its surface shimmering with a warm, radiant glow.

With your guard down, you bit into the fruit, its juices dripping down your chin as the sweetness burst in your mouth. Offering Kallos a shy smile, you quietly murmured your thanks.

A dark, gleaming look of delight flickered in his crimson eyes as he reached out, his touch both tender and assertive. His hand caressed your thigh before gripping it firmly, his gaze fixed on you with a mix of intensity and satisfaction. “(Name), you’re finally mine. I’ve waited too long.” His voice, now laced with a chilling intensity, contrasted sharply with his former gentleness. A dark, sinister smile played across his lips, revealing a side of him that was both unsettling and menacing.

Your eyes widened in terror as the reality of the danger you were in sank in, but it was too late. With inhumane strength, he held you firmly, his grip unyielding as he continued, his eyes burning with an ominous, predatory gleam. “I’ve watched over you for so long. Watching you sleep, how could you taunt me so when you didn’t wear shorts? I simply had to have a taste.” A sly smirk appeared on his face, the corner of his mouth twitching with a hint of amusement as you flushed with red-hot embarrassment. The realization hit you with a jolt: those times you woke up with hand-shaped bruises all over your body had been his doing, and that unsettling feeling of being watched—he was behind it all.

As if reading your thoughts, he continued, his voice dripping with malicious delight, “Did you enjoy my mark of ownership? And you’re simply adorable when you jump whenever I peer at you through the bronze mirror.” You sank into the mattress, cold dread gripping your heart. “W-what do you even want from me?” you managed to ask, summoning a burst of courage to meet his gaze. He laughed loudly at your response, the sound echoing with a mix of obsession and insanity. The light god, once revered by many for his kindness and generosity, now stood before you with an unsettling, unfettered look of infatuation. What he said next delivered the final blow. “I know you’re from another world. It both fascinates and frustrates me that someone like you, a mere mortal, is beyond my complete control. I simply had to have you. And now, you’re finally mine.” He gently cupped your face, his touch a jarring contrast to the harshness of his words. The shock of the situation settled in. You were paralyzed with the realization that there was no escape from a god’s grasp. The weight of his words and the power behind them left you feeling trapped and helpless, unable to flee from the divine being before you.

“What you ate,” Kallos said, his voice smooth and triumphant, “was no ordinary fruit. It binds you to this realm, a gift with a binding essence. With each bite, you became entwined with the very fabric of this heaven.”

He gently cupped your face, his eyes gleaming with a dark satisfaction. “You cannot leave now. You are part of this world, as I intended. You’re mine, completely and irrevocably.” Overwhelmed by his words and the inescapable reality of your situation, you felt a profound sense of resignation wash over you. He was a god and you were a mere mortal. You saw no way out and accepted the unyielding truth of your confinement. You simply nodded, your shoulders slumping in defeat, as you gave up the struggle.

“As husband and wife, we must consummate our love.” Pushing you against your back, he pecked your cheek with barely disguised enthusiasm before hungrily tearing at your clothes. His hands tracing down your body to find your soft cock lying against your stomach. “You’re so…small.” The marvel in his tone as he fondled your dick stung at you as you protested with a small offended squeak. You trembled as his hand wrapped around your length. The size difference was nearly alarming, engulfing you completely. You gasped as the hand moved. His hand moved up and down, teasingly light as the sensations were although unfamiliar, felt too little, but enough to rile you up. Shame welled up in you as you internally willed yourself that it shouldn’t feel good.

No. No. No. No. It shouldn’t have felt good…but it did.

Your hips involuntarily thrusted into his warm grasp. “Does it feel good?” An arm wrapped around your stomach, pinning you to the god. “I-I don’t know!” You whimpered, hands clawing at the sheets as you felt your knees give out. Mischievously, he swiped his thumb over your leaking tip as you twitched at the sudden stimulation before coming with a force harder than you had ever experienced. A foreign finger eased into you as another followed immediately. You felt yourself stretched wide and shuddering from below, a throbbing burn filling your insides. “Please! Have mercy!” You pleaded, shivering with a pathetic cry.

Kallos released you and slowly crept up your body. “You want me to show you mercy?” He asked with a smug expression plastered on his face. “Y-Yes.” You felt warm tears slip down your cheeks as you trembled in his grasp. “How can I show you mercy when you call out so sweetly for me?” He grunted, roughly gripping your legs apart as he towered before you. A blunt object pressed against your hole, bigger than his fingers, monstrous compared to your own cock. “Stop!”

“No.” Kallos replied resolutely, his hands both pinning your hands over your head. “I-it’s too big…” You stuttered weakly. “Don’t be silly, (Name). It’s not big.” Kallos peered down at you like a man possessed with hunger. “Y-you can’t-“

“I can. And I will.” The god rammed into you harshly, any of his former reservation and gentleness gone.

Throwing your head back, you soundlessly wheezed. You couldn’t breathe. It was too fast. You were too full. He pulled back his hips slightly before slamming his hips into you again. Kallos groaned, eyes shutting close. “So tight.” Your warm walls hugged his cock, squeezing and twitching as he continuously brushed against your prostrate. Keening, euphoria overtook you again as you stained your abdomen white. You sobbed, delirious as Kallos relentlessly delivered brutal thrusts with your cries echoing in the chamber. Your whole body rocked forward with the force of Kallos’ thrusts. Letting go of your arms, he gingerly shared a clumsy kiss with you, hot tongue entwining with yours. The kiss felt more like a bite consuming you, teeth knocking together as he ruthlessly bit at your lip. ‘Mhn..’ You whimpered, legs trembling when they were spread by Kallos’s muscular thighs.

The god seemed to be in a similarly pleasurable daze as he pointedly drilled into you, letting out a determined grunt as if his goal was fitting the entirety of his girth inside you.

Obscene squelches of his cock repeatedly driving into you was accompanied by the fervent slaps of skin against skin. Scrambling for anything to ground you, a pillow you tried to grab on was thrown randomly somewhere far in the room with a displeased tut. With nothing to ground you, you mewled as you found yourself limply holding on to the body that was pounding away at you. Any scratch or plea for him to stop only spurred Kallos on more, encouraging him further. The perpetual state of bliss had you growing taut, cum leaking out of your cock in pitiful drops. Your orgasm had him following after, Kallos plunging in so deep you swore you could feel him up in your stomach. Clamping up on the inhumane dick that was filling you up with hot seed, you stiffened as you were pulled into another filthy kiss that had you gasping for air.

“We’re not done, sweetheart.” Kallos exclaimed as he sat up, making sure his dick was buried in you as deep as possible, his hips opposite yours. Glancing down the obscene sight, your stomach which was slightly distended from the bulge that was his dick in you, waist littered with bruises from how hard he gripped onto you. You felt intense exhaustion wash over you as he began to rock his hips into yours again, despite the warmth of your bodies entangled together, cold despair doused your heart in cold water. Your breath caught in your throat, you knew that you were now trapped in a cold cage with this insane man, no. god. For the rest of eternity. Together.

note: so yeah, Kallos kinda saw you as a plaything at first that incited his desire because you’re something that is simply out of his control, something new but then it turns into a kinda sick “love” and obsession with you as he finds himself looking at you often than he notices.

Reblogs are appreciated!

#bottom male reader #sub male reader #mlm #mlm ns/fw #smut drabble #uke male reader #x original character #male reader smut #x male reader #male reader

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lunahearts · 1 year ago

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Soooo I read all of Dungeon Meshi in this past week and I have many thoughts bouncing around in my brain and I think the only thing to do with them is some AGGRESSIVELY CLOSE READING of a scene I wanted to come back to and try to understand better.

So: I want to talk about chapter 28

This entire section of the story is something I feel like I am going to want to come back to a lot, because its such a transitional time and I feel like there are a lot of themes/ideas that I wasn't fully aware of during my first reading, and stuff I missed because of that.

One of the biggest things I have been turning over in my head is... hey, what was UP with the Marcille/Falin bath scene? Maybe it was because I was already primed to pay attention to stuff with them going into the story, or because I had already seen a couple of panels out of context. In any case, it really kind of stuck out to me as being very short but also VERY intense, while also being... hard for me to define? Some part of the nature of the intensity felt like it was going over my head.

I wasn't sure that revisiting it would help with this right away, but to my surprise, it actually WAS a lot easier for me to follow and understand when I went back to it. So I want to just do a close reading of That Scene and some other parts of the chapter & context around it all, because I think it offers insight into Falin & her relationships, and what purpose this chapter serves within the story as a whole.

So first of all, I think it's interesting that the scene starts with Marcille bathing Falin.

It feels very caring in a more platonic, less charged way then what will follow.

Marcille goes from this caretaker mode to joining Falin in the bath, and then of course we get the first of The Panels

(as a small note, I only noticed when revisiting that Marcille is using the rest of her Kelpie soap in the bath. Isn't that just the most heartwrenching little detail. Augh)

Anyway, one of the first things I thought was interesting going back to this is how much it reminded me of the very different sort of intimacy that came just before it - when Laios and Marcille assembled Falin's bones.

This is such a beautiful and intimate sequence, and something about Marcille examining Falin, whole, after the fact... I can't imagine there are not some echoes of those bones in Marcille's mind. The action seems more startling/intense for Falin at first, and maybe part of that is because Marcille has already experienced this level of intimacy with Falin's body in a way Falin herself wasn't a part of.

This panel in particular I think is a summation of the difference in the experience for them. This looks like... near orgasmic for Falin tbh, and Marcille is very focused on the actual like practical part of what she's doing, seemingly completely unaware of the Effect she is having on Falin.

The whole short sequence is focused on this intimacy that Marcille initiated seemingly without fully being aware of what she was actually doing. And once Marcille is satisfied, she is also the one that ends it, sitting back in the bath and moving out of Falin's proximity. All on her own terms, and for her own ends.

HOWEVER... Falin doesn't just let things go.

Instead, she returns Marcille's attention. First, by asking after her wellbeing:

Marcille, of course, deflects (there will be a lot of that in this scene).

But Falin doesn't let it go.

Falin is not a confrontational person. She likes to keep the peace. In this context, and in context of the way that Marcille was the one to come into Falin's space initially, the way that Marcille controlled the initial intimacy... this is striking. I genuinely think that these three panels might convey one of the most assertive actions Falin (as herself) takes in the entire story. One of the only things that outdoes it is the fucking INCITING INCIDENT OF THE WHOLE STORY.

I'd also like to point out here that this action of Falin's also parallels her resurrection by Marcille & Laios. It's is also a forbidden magical action done to save someone(s) she loves, and its something she does TO them, that they are not fully aware/able to react to until its done.

Anyway, back to the bath scene. Falin is taking action here and asserting herself. And how does Marcille react?

She flips out!! She rejects it! She tells Falin that she isn't supposed to be acting like that.

It's a very distancing response from Marcille, and also one that puts her back in that caretaker mode from the start of the scene. She also puts even more distance between herself and Falin by sinking into the water.

Falin doesn't give up though! She continues to assert herself. She's okay, she is allowed to chose to do this.

And Marcille continues to push her away. It looks to me like she only starts to relax a little once she fits Falin into a role she can better define and control. You're a patient, you're recovering, I understand this fact and you don't. Let me take care of you.

But, for a third time, Falin pushes back.

I don't think it’s coincidence that this is where she opens her eyes. She asks directly about the thing that they have both been dancing around:

The resurrection spell. The fact that Falin KNOWS about this, at least in part, recontextualizes the quiet battle for control between the two them. They both know at least some part of the truth. Marcille wants nothing else then to ignore it. Falin wants to be able to talk about it. Marcille's blatant refusal to give her those answers, I think, is what keeps them out of sync - intimate only ever in one direction at a time, never fully together.

And of course, even when directly confronted, Marcille refuses to engage with the truth.

This moment being on the bottom of the page is notable too. There's a beat here. The last panel holds on Falin's face. The reader reaches the bottom of the page, and they are held here for a beat as well, with Falin. It's not quite a rejection yet. What Marcille says isn't directly an answer to Falin's question, but it is a response. A valid one, even! Falin wasn't just asking the question after all, but struggling with guilt that Marcille has every reason to want to reject.

But then you move on the next page, and...

Marcille isn't actually addressing the question at all, not directly. She's deflecting, again. Oh we had a ~difficult time~, there were a lot of "tough situations." Even though she and Falin both know about the resurrection, and Falin has made it clear that she wants to talk about it, Marcille pushes away from the actual topic. She keeps things broad and indirect.

She offers the smallest gesture to Falin - nothing more than a whisper of 'don't worry about it I won't get in trouble' (even though Falin's concern was never just about Marcille getting in trouble).

Marcille then continues to deflect even further, completely changing the subject onto clothes and frog adventures, which seems to distract Falin as well, as she finally gives up on pushing.

And that's where the scene ends! Marcille pushes into Falin's space (without fully realizing), and Falin pushes back. She tries three times to get Marcille to acknowledge her wants, and three times Marcille rejects her, though she does eventually convey some truth. She is honest in her belief that Falin doesn't need to feel guilty, and that things will all work out, even as she continues to deflect the rest of the question. Falin finally accepts that, the topic of conversation changes, and we move on.

But there is a little bit more that happens between them. Towards the end of the chapter, they have this little 'oh no we have to share a bed' situation. Classic stuff.

And Falin seems to realize that the context of this is kinda different now then it was when they were in the magic academy. She's not a kid any more, and they just had those intimate moments in the bath. There's a new tension between them, or one that new at least to the bed sharing of it all.

And in this respect, too Marcille pulls away from what Falin is trying to say. She tries to frame Falin as a kid, tries to insist that nothing is different.

When I first got to this part, it honestly felt... a little uncomfortable? After the bath scene, it is really weird to move into a new intimate situation with Marcille explicitly treating Falin as a kid.

What I have realized in coming back to this scene, though, is how much I think its meant to feel uncomfortable. Throughout the chapter, Marcille's responses to Falin become increasingly patronizing. By letting some of that conflict between them resolve at the end of the first scene, the chapter seems to let things rest, and lets you set it out of your mind.

Then, when the same type of conflict comes back at the end of the chapter, Marcille is even more blatantly treating Falin like a kid, and the unfairness of it hits even stronger. They are both adults, and Falin deserves the truth. After 27 chapters from the perspective of Laios, Marcille, and the others in the group, this progression lets you feel things from Falin's perspective. It's supposed to feel uncomfortable because it IS uncomfortable for Falin, the way no one will quite tell her the truth.

After all, Marcille isn't the only one to do this kind of deflecting when Falin tries to ask about what happened. Laios has a similar response, right down to the 'treating her a bit like a kid' part.

Even more importantly, this final conversation of the chapter reveals one last layer in the knowledge/power imbalance between Falin and the rest of the party: she doesn't actually remember sacrificing herself and teleporting them out.

As I mentioned before, that action was one of the most assertive things we see Falin do in the story, and she doesn't even get to keep that for herself. Instead of being her action, her choice, it becomes yet another thing that the others know more about than her.

I think that's part of why there is such an air of melancholy to this hug they share on the next page

Obviously, obviously, there are so many emotions here for Laios and I don't think its all meant to be viewed as a negative thing, or that he or Marcille are being completely unreasonable. They've been through a lot, and what's more, they think they have time now. So much more time then they actually will have. Time to explain, to open up, to let Falin return to the group in full - as a teammate and not just as someone to be cared for and protected.

But they don't get time. And this relenting by Falin, this "I won't do it again," it's not something that feels triumphant. It's an attempt to comfort them, more a prayer than a promise. As if she is trying to exorcise a spirit. As if she is capable of promising that death won't come, eventually. It's what Laios needs, not what she wants.

That's the real tragedy of the chapter, I think. It's the one time, in the midst of everything, that they have the chance to give Falin what she wants - and they don't do it.

But I do think they realize that, and I think that this failure is a core part of their journey. It's another bittersweet taste to add to the mix - all the missed chances in this chapter to connect, amidst the moments of genuine peace they do get throughout it.

As Laios puts it later...

If Falin hadn't been eaten by the dragon, and perhaps if they hadn't failed her here, they never would have had the adventure that they got to share.

(or, perhaps more tactfully: in life & chapter 28, there are both good times and bad. Thanks, Chilchuk)

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #falin touden #marcille donato #laios touden #dunmeshi analysis #dungeon meshi spoilers

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kamaluhkhan · 4 months ago

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LONG HOT SUMMER NIGHT

pairing: luke castellan x fem!poseidon!reader word count: 8.4k chapter summary: it's the summer solstice and olympus is throwing a party! thalia notices the tension between you and luke, poseidon gives you some relationship advice and you punch the god of desire in the face. warnings: angst! jealous reader. lots of drinking. complicated relationships. reader dealing with ptsd + survivor's guilt (post-titan war). mention of injuries + blood. creepy guy pushing reader to hook up. ending is a bit steamy but no actual smut. spoilers for the entire pjo (book) series. no betrayal (au where chris was the one who sided w kronos and led the titan army) so slightly ooc luke <3 also reader is in a band called the midnight sirens and is born on the summer solstice! author's note: thank you so much for all the love for part 1!! summer is almost over and this is very much a summer series BUT summer's not over yet !!! hope y'all enjoy this one too and thanks 4 reading 💙

part 1 | series masterlist

♪: long hot summer night by jimi hendrix

mail to:

Luke Castellan Camp Half-Blood, Half-Blood Hill 3.141 Farm Road Long Island, New York 11954

LUKE!

I’m sitting in my kitchen right now, watching Percy make us blue blueberry pancakes and hoping he doesn’t burn down my kitchen while doing so. I caved and agreed to take him to Disneyland while he’s here and breakfast was part of the deal, but I think I might regret it later.

We went surfing yesterday. It was Percy’s first time, but he was (unsurprisingly) amazing at it. I still can’t get over how beautiful the beaches are and the waves — gods, the waves are unreal. You’d seriously love it here. It’s like every day is summer. You have to come visit. PLEASE come visit!!!!

- [your initial]

P.S. The band and I are working on some new music, which means I won’t make it to camp again this summer. I’m sorry ;( Fingers crossed I’ll make it next year.

P.P.S. hi luke! happy to report that i did not burn down my sister’s kitchen. anyways, can’t wait to kick your ass in sword-fighting this summer. xoxo, percy

THREE YEARS LATER

the first time you visited olympus, you had been sent on a quest to retrieve zeus’ stolen lightning bolt, bringing luke and charles beckendorf along with you. you had missed the summer solstice deadline, but still tried to reason with the king of the gods when presenting the symbol of power, maybe calling him out once or twice along the way. before zeus could strike you down for your boldness, poseidon stepped in. the war between them was averted in fear of a much larger, looming threat; an ominous introduction for what was to come in the next chapter of your life.

another time, the gods debated whether or not they should kill you, some seeing you as a threat to their future. that was the day you accepted your destiny, not wanting your brother percy or your cousin nico to deal with the weight of the great prophecy.

your last visit to olympus was on your 18th birthday, after helping to defeat kronos and his army. you made the gods swear to stop neglecting their kids and to allow all demigods, regardless of whether their parent was an olympian or not, to have a home at camp half-blood; to treat their children as children rather than heroes as pawns in their twisted games.

needless to say, it’s quite strange, being back here under very, very different circumstances, where the gods invited camp half-blood’s senior counsellors and staff to join in their summer solstice festivities.

it’s not every day you’ll be invited to a party on olympus; you’re determined to have a good time, to have fun. there’s already an abundance of music, dancing, food, or alcohol, and the night is just getting started.

you’re happy to be there with new and old friends, but you’re ecstatic when you see that thalia grace is there, too.

“immortality looks good on you, t!” you compliment, raising your voice slightly over the music.

thalia preens, and you bask in her silver glow.

“bet you wish you took the gods up on their offer, huh,” she teases. then, her eyes widen. “oh - shit! it’s your birthday! happy birthday!”

thalia tackles you with another hug; even after all these years, she still smells like pine trees. she grabs two goblets of honeyed wine and hands one to you as you catch up. you eagerly gulp the sweet drink, until you’re reaching for another while listening to her stories about adventures she’d been on with the hunters of artemis.

about halfway through her story about fighting off a manticore during a snow storm, a nymph appears with a platter of the ripest of fruit – sweet plums and fresh figs, tantalising pomegranates, succulent grapes and crisp apples.

“oh my gods, this is the best apple i’ve had in my entire life!” thalia exclaims after indulging in a taste, herself giddy from a few goblets of wine. “where’s luke? he’s gotta try this — he’s always reminding us to eat more fruit. luke!”

you hadn’t kept track of luke, at least not on purpose. you assumed he’d been off partying with van or his siblings, and, probably, avoiding you. wherever he was, thalia calls his name twice more and, like a ghost, luke appears.

“i’m here, t.” luke’s voice is a deep, steady rumble floating above the music. his cheeks are slightly flushed, either from the heat or the drinks. likely both. “what’s up?”

“you need to try this.” thalia shoves the apple in his mouth before luke can respond.

luke takes a bite, and some juice drips down his chin. you, in a honey-soaked haze, think about running your tongue over to catch it, but he beats you to it, wiping it away with the back of his hand.

probably for the best.

“holy shit. yeah, it’s good.”

thalia, a sparkle in her eyes, urges you to try it as well. from across the makeshift triangle the three of you had formed, luke tosses the apple your way. you catch it effortlessly, and sink your teeth into it.

you’ve almost overwhelmed by the burst of flavor. the fruit is just the right amount of tart to balance out the sweetness, and it’s damn near the best crunch you’ve ever experienced.

“good is an understatement,” you say after another bite. a distant memory crosses your mind. “i wonder if these are the same ones we almost got killed by a hellhound for.”

thalia shakes her head, laughing in disbelief. “all because luke said we needed more vitamin c.”

“i was just looking out for us!” luke guffaws. “how was i supposed to know that persephone owned an apple orchard in connecticut?”

you pat his shoulder, the three of you smiling at the memory. “let’s call it an honest mistake.”

“well if annabeth had been with us by then, i’m sure that she wouldn’t have made that same honest mistake.”

“okay, but she’s the daughter of athena —”

you let luke and thalia slip back into their playful bickering as if no time has passed. you listen and continue eating that glorious apple, enjoying how the golden glow of your shared past fills whatever distance might have grown between the three of you.

somewhere down memory lane, luke’s amber eyes flick towards you.

“hey, you’ve got some….” without another word, luke suddenly reaches over to brush away a trail of juice with his thumb before sticking the finger in his mouth to savour the taste. he holds your gaze as he does so, and you feel a familiar kind of heat rush through your body — not from alcohol or summer sun, but from luke.

it’s such an intimate gesture that you almost forget that you’re at some extravagant party on mount olympus, where gods and half-bloods and a whole bunch of other mythological creatures are celebrating the start of summer by essentially getting drunk together, until thalia clears her throat.

“okay, well, seems like the two of you might want some alone time.”

luke’s cheeks grow more flushed than before, and his eyes widen as if realizing what he’d done.

“oh, we don’t need —”

“we’re not —”

you and luke both stumble over your words; thalia just smiles knowingly.

“i’m gonna go flirt with that nymph,” she announces, pointing across the grand marble pavilion.

“i thought — doesn’t artemis sort of frown upon that sort of thing?” you ask.

“she makes exceptions on holidays. besides, i’m her favourite. you guys have fun.” thalia winks at you and walks away.

you glance at luke and, gods, there’s so much history between you.

the time you jumped into an ocean full of sirens to save luke from drowning? you have a scar running down your forearm where one of them scratched you as you struggled to get luke towards the surface.

or when you took turns holding up the sky while on a quest to save lady artemis and defeat the titan atlas? it’s evident in the matching streaks of grey that you each have running through your hair. whenever you see your reflection in the mirror, you remember how you couldn’t save your cousin bianca di angelo earlier that day, and how nico has had to grow up without a sister because of a promise you broke.

how about when you, luke, and one of your best friends were sent on a mission to destroy the princess andromeda, the headquarters of kronos’ army? only the two of you survived, and sometimes you can still feel luke squeezing your hand pike he did during charles beckendorf’s burial shroud ceremony while you both cried.

or when luke took a sword between the ribs for you because he, somehow, knew the one spot the curse of achilles left you vulnerable? he can only slouch for so long before the bones there start to ache.

so, yeah. there’s way too much history, and so many tangled threads, and now really isn’t an ideal time to unravel it all.

“i’m gonna go find my dad,” you blurt out and disappear into the crowd with no real intention of finding your father.

the once sweet apple now tastes rotten on your tongue; you rid yourself of it in exchange for some more wine. you’re determined to have fun — no pain or heartache or grief.

you’ve all had enough of that for three lifetimes.

summer — age 14

“sorry your birthday was ruined.”

luke exhaled sharply when you pressed a disinfectant-soaked cloth to the wound on his leg.

“hold still,” was all you mumbled in response, brows knitted together as you wrapped the cut in gauze.

once you were done with his leg, you moved on to luke’s hands, burned by poisonous acid. the four of you had run into a hydra earlier that night. you managed to wound it enough so you could all get away, but not before a few injuries were sustained.

you were uncharacteristically quiet as you worked. you only met luke’s gaze to warn him before pouring some nectar on his wounds. you let luke hold your hand, tightly, as the liquid dripped through his fingers and down to yours, first right, then left. the pain was instant, seering almost as much as the hydra acid, but it was over quickly. the last thing you did was bandage each hand before getting up.

“i’m…i’m gonna check on thalia and annabeth. i’ll take first watch.”

luke caught your hand before you got away.

“wait. you’re bleeding.” he pointed to the cut on your brow. you had been so preoccupied in making sure everyone else was safe that you let crimson liquid drip down your face. it probably stung, too, based on your grimace.

luke wiped away the blood with his sleeve, used nectar to disinfect the wound, and dressed it with a fresh bandage, working silently as you did.

“it’s still your birthday,” luke finally said once he was done. “you get some rest; i’ll take first watch.”

you gave him a small, strained smile before checking on the others.

later that night, you stayed up with luke anyways.

seemingly out of nowhere, you handed him your portable cassette player. luke stared at it for a moment, unwilling to comprehend just what you were offering and, more importantly, why.

you and luke had grown accustomed to sharing things: flannels, socks, makeshift beds and scavenged food. but this —

it was your aunt’s.

you never met your mother, who’d left you as a baby, and of course, poseidon was too busy tending to his underwater kingdom to step in as a parent. your aunt raised you as her own. and then you lost her, too.

you kept her cassette player buried deep in your bag with some mixtapes she had made and ones you’d stolen throughout the years. when it wasn’t your turn to keep watch, luke would sometimes catch you with headphones on, looking up at the stars.

luke liked to think he knew you well; all those subtle elements that made you — the crack of your knuckles, the cadence of your voice, the slope of your nose, the dreams of your childhood. engraved in his own personhood. bones and all.

and, still: he didn’t know you, not entirely.

you’d only allowed luke to listen with you once, maybe twice. he’d never forget what it was like: knees pressed together and heads just as close to keep the wires from stretching too far; you gushing about the magic of jimi hendrix, recounting memories that echoed through gentle guitar riffs; luke yearning for one more song to play, for another a wistful smile of yours to appear. luke, wishing to linger in your private oasis a beat longer before you pushed him out again and closed the door behind him.

the one lock luke couldn’t crack: your grief, and how you carried on so buoyantly despite its weight.

well, there you were, presenting the key to luke as an offering. a sacrifice for something luke would never ask of you.

“this….” luke swallowed the lump in his throat, refusing to look at you. he turned the device over in his bandaged hands, the metal smooth, though well-worn. “you can’t just —”

leave. you can’t just leave. you can’t just —

“hey.”

your hand over his, forcing him to stop spiralling and look at you.

right away, luke regretted it. a small sliver of him, however delusional, had hoped that you were joking.

you weren’t. behind you, there was an empty space where you had previously wedged your sleeping bag. your backpack was already strapped around your shoulders, fully packed.

“i need to leave, luke. we can’t stay together. it’s too dangerous.”

“you don’t need to —”

“there’s more of us, now,” you interrupted, pulling your hand away to rest on your thigh. “four demigods together isn’t ideal. we’ve been attracting more monsters. more deadly monsters.”

“that would happen, anyways. it always has whether it’s the four of us, the two of us, or….”

luke stopped his sentence short, not even wanting to give you the idea to go out on your own, even though you’d probably been thinking about leaving for some time.

you made reckless decisions sometimes, but this didn’t seem to be one of them.

“well, it’s happening more.” your voice was steady, too steady. luke imagined you rehearsing just what to say to counter the inevitable backlash.

luke shook his head. “i’d be dead if it weren’t for you.”

“you almost died because of me,” you clipped. you lifted a hand to touch the bruise on luke’s jaw, but let it drop just as quickly. “you know that children of the big three cause more trouble. maybe we managed it when it was the two of us, but now, there’s more to consider. a child of poseidon and a child of zeus, travelling together. it’s like we’re asking to be killed. it’s too dangerous.”

“that’s our life,” luke snapped. “you can’t just run from it.” from us.

you faltered, looking back to where annabeth and thalia were sleeping peacefully.

oh. he must have said that last part out loud, too.

“you know i’m right,” is all you said.

luke could only shake his head again. because, fine, you weren’t entirely wrong. it was more dangerous — but it was danger luke hoped you’d all face, together.

“i’ve made up my mind,” you added, an anchor in the sand.

“don’t leave.” luke’s words came out as a prayer. if he offered something, maybe you’d stay.

you paused to take a shaky breath. “this isn’t goodbye, luke. i swear to poseidon…fuck, i swear to all the gods that this isn’t goodbye.”

luke couldn’t speak. there were tears bubbling in his throat, threatening to spill.

“so, keep this for me,” you whispered, once again placing your hand on top of luke’s. his fingers gripped your cassette player tightly, like it was the only piece of driftwood leftover from a shipwreck, keeping him from sinking into the cold, dark nothing. “you’ll give it back when we see each other again.”

a promise.

“fine,” luke conceded, though he wanted to scream at you. he wanted to argue like little kids — petty, loud, meaningless, back and forth until tears streamed down cheeks and throats were raw.

but, you were leaving, one way or another. luke didn’t want this shared memory to be tainted if it might be your last.

“you have to take this, then. give it back when we see each other again.”

luke removed the chain from around his neck, the one that held the key to his childhood home. he placed it around yours, instead.

he didn’t need the key now, but his mother had given it to him when he was six. before he knew what it meant to be the son of hermes, god of thieves.

call him sentimental, but luke had kept it. just in case he ever got lost.

“if you’re ever back in connecticut, you have a home.”

“yeah, okay.” you smiled softly.

it fell just as quickly.

“take care of them,” you told him. “of yourself, too. i’ll see you again when it’s safe.”

luke didn’t ask when it would be safe, because the truth is that it might never be.

“because you want your cassette player back?” luke joked, instead trying to lighten the mood, to capture one last moment of brightness.

you laughed softly to not wake the others.

“yeah. that too.”

you pressed your forehead to his, something you hadn’t done since you were kids.

“i’ll see you again,” you repeated.

without another word, you got up and jogged away. luke shut his eyes, refusing to see you become nothing but a shadow.

(you looked back several times, but he couldn’t see through the darkness.)

now

call the gods out on their bullshit (you encourage it), but if they have one thing going for them, it’s that the olympians know how to throw a party.

the night grows darker, yet somehow becomes more lively. demeter and persephone had supplied a generous amount of fresh, decadent fruit, and dionysus an even more generous amount of wine. apollo starts a karaoke corner and you’re just tipsy enough to agree to sing a duet with him in order to break the ice. apparently, he’s a big midnight sirens fan and had seen your band when you headlined at glastonbury festival. you smile to yourself, imagining your bandmates’ faces if you told them that the god of music had watched you perform.

as you hand the microphone to a giggling dryad, the sound of your name washes over like gentle waves on a shore.

“if it isn’t my sweet, summer child!” your father brings you in for a hug and an ocean breeze engulfs you — salt and sand and sun.

“hi dad,” you exhale as you pull away.

you hadn’t seen each other in a while, but poseidon looks the same. he’s dressed in a turquoise hawaiian shirt and birkenstocks with a crown of seashells on his head. there’s a cocktail umbrella in his glass, a slice of pineapple wedged onto the rim. you’re about to ask him how he managed to secure a pina colada and where you might find one, too.

“that was quite the performance!” poseidon takes an eager sip of his drink, green eyes sparkling like sea glass in the sun. “i must tell you: your newest album is all the rage in atlantis. the nereids and merpeople can’t seem to get enough of it and, truthfully, i find myself playing it on repeat as well. you’re quite talented.”

you try not to let your shock slip through, instead smiling and asking how things are in his underwater kingdom, but you’re….touched at your father’s unexpected praise.

the gods aren’t perfect, and your father is no exception. they’re divine beings who have time to conceive children, but not to raise them. there’s a long history of them abandoning, mistreating, and manipulating their own offspring. of course, being the prophecy child, it became practically impossible for your father to ignore you; you’re sure that being dubbed the saviour of olympus gives him bragging rights with his immortal family. even with their sworn promise to change, it’s impossible not to resent the gods in some ways.

still, you feel comforted by your father's presence at times — when you catch the perfect wave on your surfboard, for example, or when you sit on your fire escape during a storm after a bad day. it’s been like that pretty much all your life: poseidon there in spirit, not in practice. despite everything, he’s watched over you, and percy, throughout the years.

and here poseidon is now, grinning at you like you’re his pride and joy.

“enough about aquatic politics.” he pats your shoulder enthusiastically after telling you about the struggles of keeping humans from overfishing. “i came over to wish you a happy birthday. and to give you this.”

poseidon reaches into the pocket of his shirt and hands you something you’d long thought gone: a leather cord with several clay beads and a silver key.

“i found it off the california coast,” he explains. “i kept meaning to get it to you, but i suppose time has a way of getting away from us, immortal or not.”

a warmth grows in your chest as you run your thumb over your old camp necklace, bright and full. it had fallen off one day when you’d gone surfing, and you assumed it was lost to the ocean. you'd been given a fresh leather cord when you arrived at camp earlier this summer, but it felt empty. hollow.

“thanks, dad.”

you smile at him as you put on the necklace; it feels like coming home. your father then asks you about your summer so far.

you tell him all about your life as of late, until you catch a glimpse of luke with van on a marble bench at the other end of the pavilion. van is sitting in luke’s lap, and they lean over to whisper something in his ear before kissing his cheek.

you freeze mid-way through your sentence.

sensing the shift in mood, poseidon frowns. he turns his head to follow your gaze.

“ah.” poseidon turns back to you and clears his throat. “now, i don’t mean to pry, but i saw you earlier with the castellan boy.”

you flush at the fact that your moment with luke was witnessed by your own father. “dad —”

“did you know in ancient greece, throwing someone an apple and having them catch it is considered a marriage proposal?”

“i’m pretty sure that was disproven,” you scoff.

poseidon raises an eyebrow at you, clearly amused. “which one of us was actually there, hm?” and though you roll your eyes, you can’t argue with that. “i just wanted to know if there was a wedding happening in the near future.”

you almost choke on the last remnants of your wine. “dad.”

“i’m kidding. i’m kidding! mr. castellan seems otherwise occupied.”

“yeah, it does seem that way,” you grumble.

poseidon puts a hand on your shoulder, firm but reassuring. “regardless: if you find someone who would go to tartarus and back with you, someone who would fight alongside you every step of the way, you hold on to them. there’s only so much time you mortals have on this earth.”

you sigh — easier said than done — but your father is trying, so you manage a nod.

“i’ll keep that in mind.”

“now, i better go — ” poseidon looks over your shoulder, where the air behind you starts to feel staticky. “it seems a disagreement is brewing between zeus and hades. they always get into it whenever dionysus makes the wine a bit too strong. brother, put away the lightning bolt —” and he rushes away to prevent another divine conflict from arising.

left to your own devices, you venture over to the food table, finding an array of fresh and dried fruit, breads, cured meat, fresh oysters and, of course, more wine. you grab a goblet and a few dried figs.

“careful, i heard dionysus made the wine extra strong tonight,” someone warns, creeping up beside you. the voice is soft and alluring, and you feel something tug at your heart.

you do a double take when you turn to them; the person is devilishly handsome, a golden aura paired with a golden smile.

(you will soon find out that the god flirting with you is the son of ares and aphrodite, the latter of which takes the appearance of whoever the onlooker loves. as it turns out, her son appears in the same way.

all this to say: it doesn’t mean anything that this god looks like luke castellan to you.

it doesn’t mean anything at all.)

“i’m eros.”

“hey. i’m —”

“i know who you are, savior of olympus.” eros winks at you. “i just never realized you were so beautiful.”

your cheeks heat up as you take a sip of your drink.

oh, shit.

okay. the literal god of desire and pleasure is flirting with you.

you’re flattered, really, and maybe the wine has gotten to your head, but you’re not eager to turn him away.

“well, i’ve definitely heard about you, and the rumors do not do you justice,” you quip, painting on a flirtatious smile.

eros puffs out his chest, clearly pleased.

over the next few minutes, you decide that eros can hold a decent conversation, asking you the classic first date questions about your likes and dislikes, and he’s cute enough that you wouldn’t mind things going further.

(he might be a god, but he’s no luke. you push that thought away, and force yourself to flirt with helios. eros. right, eros.)

eros leans in close, pretends to listen to you, lets his gaze drop every so often to the deep v-neck of your shirt.

“no way! 13 going on 30 is a classic,” you argue. you nudge your shoulder into eros’s playfully, and let the contact between you linger. eros, the inspiration for cupid himself, has angel wings, and you feel them brush softly against your burning skin.

“it’s totally overrated!” eros exclaims. “also, the childhood friends to lovers trope gives people false hope.”

“it’s not false hope. it’s about the buildup to their happily ever after,” you reason, swallowing some wine to dislodge the lump in your throat.

eros shakes his head. “trust me, baby, it’s all about the instant attraction. that’s where the excitement is.”

he’s so close now, you can smell the sharp alcohol on his breath. not wine, but something stronger.

“oh? what do you mean by that?” you lean impossibly closer, trailing a finger down his chest.

eros smirks, placing a hand on your thigh. “want me to demonstrate?”

not even a second after you whisper a yes, eros crashes his lips onto yours, and you will yourself to kiss back. he slides his tongue in your mouth, runs his hands over your body.

you’re making out with the god of desire and passion, so, objectively, it’s a good first kiss: soft around the edges and firm where it needs to be.

sure — you feel nothing, no real spark, but it’s almost enough to fill the hole in your heart in the shape of a certain son of hermes.

the son of hermes who has moved on and is in a loving relationship with a perfect emotionally available partner.

so, it’s fine.

this, this thing with eros, is fine.

you’re fine.

eros pulls away first, but keeps a hand on your cheek.

“let's get out of here.”

he grabs your wrist before you have a chance to answer. you stand up, let him weave you through the crowd towards the stairs of the pavilion. apparently, his room is just through the garden.

as he tugs you along, he looks back at you, smiling. under the glow of the stars, eros looks just like luke, except it’s becoming harder to ignore that he isn’t luke and that makes you feel all sorts of nauseous. your camp necklace weighs on your chest and, in particular, the silver key that you’d kept for all those years burns through your skin.

lightheaded, you pull away from eros’ grip just as you reach the top of the stairs and place a hand on the column next to you to steady yourself.

eros turns around sharply. “what is it?”

“i changed my mind, actually. let’s just…keep talking here.”

eros grabs your wrist again, his grip tighter than before. “don’t be a tease.” his tone is ever-so-gentle, but there’s an edge behind his words.

this time, your voice comes out more assertive. “i just changed my mind. that doesn’t make me a tease.”

“come on, baby, don’t you wanna experience what real passion is? this is a once in a lifetime opportunity that a million girls would kill for. you’d be an idiot to pass it up.” he brags, and you’re this close to breaking this guy’s nose, god or not.

“i don’t care,” you snap, struggling to break free from his grip. “and i’m not your baby.”

“okay, whatever,” eros rolls his eyes, but quickly plasters on an arrogant grin. “we’ll go somewhere private and i’ll call you whatever you want.”

he manages to drag you down two steps as you strain against his iron grip, now almost cutting off your circulation. your heartbeat quickens and you feel dizzy. finally, you grab onto the railing for leverage and use your strength to rip out of his grip, forcing eros to stop in his tracks.

“what is it now?” he snaps, whipping his head around once more.

he looks nothing like luke, now.

“just stop, eros.”

“listen,” he starts, speaking to you almost mockingly, like you’re a naive little kid. so much for being the savior of olympus. “trust me, i know what people want, so you don’t have to be shy. i promise to be the best you’ve ever had —”

“eros, is it?” the rest of the party is in full motion, but here’s percy, giving eros one of the most intense death stares you’ve ever seen. percy, your little brother who talks to lonely fish at the aquarium; who, if you cut open, would bleed blue m&m’s; who would never let anyone, god or otherwise, hurt someone he loves. “i’m gonna have to ask you to let go of my sister.”

“mind your own business, kid,” eros hisses. “we’re kinda in the middle of something.” he tries to move you down another step, but you stand your ground.

annabeth, no longer the scared little seven year old you, luke, and thalia found behind a dumpster, is also glaring at liam from the top of the stairs. one of her hands rests firmly on her belt, where she keeps her dagger.

“i’d back off, if i were you,” she warns. “wouldn’t want to cause a scene.”

“just mind your own business,” eros snarls.

“they said leave her alone,” thalia asserts, walking over once she sees what’s happening. “and you don’t wanna mess with us, trust me.” she clenches her hand into a fist.

“who the fuck are you? her bodyguards?”

“just let her go,” percy orders. “my sister can do a lot better than a minor god with a major god complex.”

eros growls, baring his teeth at percy. “you impertinent little shit.”

as soon as eros lunges for your brother, you tug one of his wings towards you, hard. he whips around and you take the opportunity to punch him in the face. he doubles over, golden ichor gushing from his nose.

“i’d be careful if i were you, baby,” you seethe. “you wouldn’t want to go up against the demigods who led an army against kronos and won. unless, of course, humiliation is a kink of yours.” you laugh humorlessly at the way eros scowls at your words. “to each their own,” you continue. “but i’m not in the mood to fuck an entitled creep with angel wings to compensate for his tiny dick. you better fucking respect that, and leave us alone while you’re at it.”

eros’ flirtatious smile is long gone, replaced with the kind of anger only entitled, self-important jerks have when they don’t get what they want and they’ve taken a few blows to their ego.

call it stupidity or arrogance, but his only response is a punch delivered right back to your face.

you hear a crack upon impact, and pain radiates from your nose. you stumble, but percy manages to reach out and catch you before you fall down the stairs. he holds you as thalia and annabeth create a barrier between you and eros. you hear them shouting at eros over the music, but their exact words don’t register.

you lick your lips, tasting blood. your ears are ringing, and everything is suddenly all fuzzy. percy tries his best, but you slump your body weight into his and he almost topples over.

“i’ve got her.” luke’s calm and measured voice cuts through the chaos. you feel a strong, familiar arm wrap around your waist to steady you. “from what i remember, you were too much of a coward to even step foot on the battlefield, so i’d listen to her if you know what’s good for you.” in a haze, you guess that luke is directing his sharp words towards eros, before turning to the others and instructing: “you guys take care of this — find clarisse if you need back up.”

somehow, you find yourself over in a small secluded temple, sitting on a window bench overlooking the clouds as luke sits next to you.

like most of olympus, the building is made of marble with gold accents; this one has roses engraved on the walls, and the space smells like flowery perfume. it’s much quieter than the pavilion, though you can hear laughter and music in the distance. it’s cooler, too, but not by much; even without all the body heat, you're left with sticky summer air, and luke’s breath on yours, sweet with wine and ripe fruit, as he carefully examines your injury.

you feel your head spinning all over again. maybe it’s the alcohol, or the adrenaline, or the fact that the two of you haven’t been this close in a while — probably a dangerous mix of all three.

you know (from trying not to but ultimately not being able to pull your attention away from him after all) that he’s had a few drinks as well; it seems like the two of you ignore each other best when you’re sober.

“thought the curse of achilles would protect you from nosebleeds.”

“guess it doesn’t protect against —” what did percy call eros? “ — minor gods who have major god complexes,” you recite.

luke looks slightly amused. “that’s a shame,” he hums. “would have been nice to get one birthday without being injured.”

a smile creeps onto your face, despite the dull ache from your nose.

“you remembered.”

“of course i remember,” luke almost scoffs like the mere suggestion of forgetting what day you were born is an insult to his very character. he meets your gaze, and you could melt when he offers you that lopsided smile of his, painfully familiar. “happy birthday, aquagirl,” and it’s the softest he’s spoken to you in a while. just like old times.

he remembers.

somewhere within him, luke holds on to fragments of you.

he wipes the blood off your face, the sleeve of his silk white button-down now stained crimson. “how’s your hand?” he asks.

you flex your fingers. “it’s been better,” you answer, your knuckles slightly aching. “totally worth it.”

“i guess all those years away didn’t change anything. still willing to put a god in their place, huh?”

all those years away.

the reminder feels like a stab to the heart, and you’re worried that it might burst the comfortable bubble you and luke had drunkenly stumbled into.

thankfully, luke continues:

“the kids really take after you.”

he says as a joke, mostly, but there’s a sincerity in those deep brown eyes of his, too. something you also hadn’t seen from him in a while.

the kids, who you’d in some ways raised together when monsters were trying to kill you and the gods didn’t care enough to stop it.

the family you and luke had built together despite being born into the world of greek tragedies.

“as if annabeth wasn’t threatening to pull the dagger you gave her, skywalker,” the nickname rolling off your tongue with ease. “besides, they’re not kids anymore.”

“yeah.” he pauses. “neither are we.”

luke’s fingers trace your camp necklace, brush against your collarbone. the breath hitches in your throat.

here you are again, at the edge of something real and very scary, and you fear luke is going to push the two of you over.

but he doesn’t. instead, luke suggests, jokingly: “maybe we should start a fight club at camp.”

you take that as a good sign: like you, he’s hoping to preserve the playfulness between you before everything else seeps in and ruins it. before you’re brought back to the present, where you’re practically ignoring each other.

where you’re fine, but really.

you snort. “chiron and mr. d would love that.”

“like they’d ever find out!” luke explains. “you know the first rule of fight club —”

“don’t talk about fight club,” you finish together.

luke laughs, even though it’s not that funny. you laugh, too.

and that’s the thing that really, truly gets you.

try as you might to ignore it, some days it’s hard to forget the pain and heartache and grief.

you still feel like your life is a battlefield; you still see the ghosts of everyone you couldn’t save even though people call you a savior; you still have those scars, inside and out, that seemed healed but ache every once and a while.

but that isn’t all.

sometimes it hurts more thinking back to the good times and knowing, deep down, you can never go back.

summer — age 13

“ugh — you think with all their power, the gods could help stop global warming,” you groaned, swatting away a mosquito that tried to land on you. “do you think they have air conditioning on olympus?”

“oh, for sure,” luke quipped. he gave you a lopsided smile, his curls sticking to his forehead, drenched in sweat.

it was the summer solstice, the longest and the hottest day of the year so far. the two of you had found a perfectly good hideout, but luke insisted that this place would be worth the move.

he’d been leading you down side streets for what felt like forever. the sun had already set, and you were very close to passing out from the heat, until luke finally stopped at a door behind an alley, with a sign reading CLOSED FOR RENOVATIONS.

luke knelt down to do whatever son-of-hermes lock magic he had to do to get the door open. he flipped a switch, and you winced at the sudden overwhelming brightness.

the destination was different than the hideouts you usually sprung for: those small, hole-in-the-wall type places. instead, this space was big and bright, filled with arcade games and fun posters and neon colours. the type of place a kid might have a party or where a group of normal teenagers might spend their friday night.

“what…what is this?”

“you thought i forgot, didn’t you?” luke smirked at you. he sat down on the colourful carpet, taking out some snacks, a small plastic bag with coins, a wrapped box, and a plastic blue crown, and gestured for you to join.

you did, in fact, think that luke had forgotten your birthday.

birthdays were bittersweet for children of gods, who were constantly reminded that any year could be their last, their youth cut short by monsters or prophecies or a fatal flaw. all the two of you usually did on either birthday was split any sweet treat you could get your hands on.

it wasn’t a big deal, really, to skip that tradition of yours. there were much more urgent things to worry about, like finding food and water and shelter, and not being devoured by monsters.

you did think it was strange that luke hadn’t so much as said happy birthday to you all day, but you knew that he loved you.

(like a friend loves a friend. nothing else, no matter how much your stomach fluttered at the thought of him.)

“i wanted to surprise you,” luke explained once you claimed your spot next to him. he reached over to place the crown on your head. “i found this place a few days ago during a food run. it reminds me of where we had your —”

“eighth birthday party, yeah.” you smiled at the memory of running around and feeding quarters to every machine and trying every game, of your classmates singing happy birthday to you off-key before you all stuffed your faces with sickly sweet confetti cake.

truthfully, you never thought about having another celebration like that again.

but, it was five years from that faded childhood memory, and luke was presenting you with something you didn’t even realize you had needed: the chance to be a kid again.

“so,” luke got up, a wide smile on his face. he held the plastic bag in one hand, extending the other to you. “which do you wanna play first?”

you started with space invaders, then moved on to dragon’s lair and pac-man. you took a break before street fighter ii so that luke could ceremoniously light a candle and present a cupcake that had been tossed around in his bag (but you were still very, very grateful for), along with fresh batteries for your portable cassette player. he had made you a mixtape too, though you couldn’t figure out how.

your last stop was a photobooth. you vowed to keep those pictures — a collection of you and luke together, smiling bright and colourful, goofing off and laughing — for the rest of your life.

now

those moments from past summers are like popsicles melting in the sun: tangible for a limited time before leaving you with a sickly sweet mess of what once was.

you think about what happened earlier, how percy, annabeth, and thalia stepped in to protect you, still the brave kids you had once known so well. how luke is here with you now, taking care of you so tenderly even after you’ve silently agreed to give each other the cold shoulder.

maybe luke is right. maybe all those years away didn’t change anything.

except — once you leave this temple and the alcohol leaves your system, it won’t be the same.

none of you are kids anymore, if you ever even were.

“why’d you go for eros, anyway?” luke asks, breaking you away from your thoughts. he removes his sleeve from your nose since the bleeding seems to have finally stopped.

“you really wanna know?”

“yeah. most gods are assholes. and you’re…” luke places a hand close to your leg, pinky finger brushing your thigh. “you.”

“i went for eros because….well, honestly, i don’t think i cared who it was, as long as they made me forget you,” you admit, because what did you have to lose. you probably have a broken nose, you definitely have blood on your shirt, and your time with luke is running out.

luke’s eyes darken. his fingers start to play with the hem of your shorts.

“did it work?” his voice is a whisper, but he’s close enough that he’s crystal clear.

“no.”

it’s hard to determine who leans in first, but soon enough your lips are on luke’s — messy and urgent. noses bumping together, teeth clacking against each other. he cradles your face in his hands, and you move to straddle his waist. you taste wine on his tongue, and maybe a hint of sweet pears, but it’s overwhelmed by the salty, metallic taste of blood stained on your lips. when you run out of air, you pull away. it’s clearer now: you’re not dizzy from the alcohol or adrenaline, but dizzy from him. luke’s gaze is heavy on yours as he traces your top lip with his thumb.

“luke,” you whimper, itching to kiss him again.

“you’re still bleeding.”

luke wipes away the blood with his thumb. before either of you can do or say anything more, there’s an echo of footsteps on the marble floor. a flower nymph, there to leave an offering and let you know that, while aphrodite encourages acts of love, she prefers it doesn’t happen in her place of worship.

you realize that aphrodite also might not look so fondly at you kissing someone else in her place of worship after publicly rebuking her own son.

luke untangles himself from you, and you know that he’s been jolted back to reality, too.

and, just like that, another moment has melted away.

your father was right. time has a way of slipping away for us, immortal or not.

summer — age 18

“hey, you awake?”

“yeah,” you replied softly. sleep hadn’t been easy, in the days and weeks and months leading up to that final battle with kronos and his army.

and once it was all over?

you rested your head on luke’s shoulder, sword discarded at your feet and armour half-removed, as argus, the hundred-eyed security guard of olympus, drove a school bus with a dozen or so demigods back to camp.

“why’d you turn down their offer?” luke whispered.

oh.

"why...why do you ask?"

"i don't know." luke paused. "just curious, i guess."

you closed your eyes and replayed that moment on olympus when you refused the gift of immortality. the look of shock written on the gods’ faces. and on luke’s.

“i don’t care about living forever,” you told him bluntly.

forever seemed too long, especially for someone who was prophesied to die at 18.

you tilted your head up to meet luke’s gaze, and his messy curls brushed against your forehead. evidence of the battle was clear on his face: caked-on dirt and blossoming bruises and dried blood.

behind him, outside the bus window, the world was flying by. a child who had fallen off their bike being comforted by a friend. two people sharing an mp3 player and a pair of earbuds. an elderly couple walking their dog.

“you once told me that this was our life,” you continued, gesturing towards the weapons and battle-worn kids, some quiet, others crying, many injured. “what if it didn’t have to be?”

luke furrowed his brow. “do you mean….are you talking about leaving?”

you shrugged. running from monsters for your entire childhood then being the child of the great prophecy was a lot.

a break might be nice.

there was so much about the world, the one you’d fought and bled to protect, that you wanted to experience.

maybe something closer to a normal life.

“would you ever leave camp?” you wondered, not really answering luke's question.

“no,” luke replied instantly. his fingers started fiddling with the beads on his necklace. “i can’t just walk away, not after everything.”

“yeah, i get that.” and you did; you really, truly, did. the guilt of wanting to leave camp curled in your stomach like a venomous snake. you took a shaky breath. “let’s talk about this later, yeah? i’m tired, and we have the rest of — ”

the rest of the summer slipped away in the blink of an eye. gone, before you even had a real chance to say goodbye.

you closed your eyes and held on to luke, as if gripping his arm would anchor you to something you weren't ready to let go of, but in some ways needed to move on from.

it was no use, though.

by the end of august, you’d be gone too.

now

you learned early on that the curse of achilles doesn’t protect you from hangovers.

you wake up the morning after the celebration on olympus with a deep, throbbing pain lodged in your temple and an uncomfortable swirling in your gut. parties and late nights at bars are common on tour, which means migraines are, too, so you have a routine to make sure you’re not out of commission for too long.

except this time, the aspirin and blue gatorade and dry toast don’t work. the sting in your brain and uneasiness in your stomach doesn’t go away, even after a few days. you haven’t been able to sleep, either.

desperate for a cure, you consult lou ellen, head counsellor of the hecate cabin, who you’d unexpectedly grown close to in the past few weeks. she mixes something for you, while asking if there’s something that’s been weighing on you.

you couldn't keep it in anymore; you tell her about the summer solstice and luke.

later, with nothing but your thoughts and percy’s snoring occupying your time post-curfew, you grab your phone and flip it open, deciding to finally reach out to luke, when you get a text from him.

luke is already on the beach when you arrive, looking out onto the water.

“hey,” you greet as you sit next to him on the sand, but not too close. “i was actually about to text you —”

“did you tell anyone that we kissed?” he interrupts. you can’t quite read his expression as he waits for you to answer.

“no, i didn’t,” you lie. “would it matter if i did?”

“well, i mean, word travels fast around camp, and i don’t want van finding out. it’s not like it meant anything.”

the throbbing in your brain becomes a sharper sting, the uneasiness in your stomach a tidal wave of nausea.

“it didn’t?” you hate how fragile your voice sounds, compared to luke’s stoic demeanor.

luke shrugs. “i mean, we were both drunk and the thing with eros happened…we just got caught up in the heat of the moment.”

“you’re saying there’s nothing between us, then? nothing?” the word tastes bitter in your mouth.

luke turns away before he answers. “no. nothing.”

“then what about last summer?” you demand. you force yourself to keep it together, your tone firmer than before. “i guess that didn’t mean anything, either.”

“y/n…” he sighs. “i don’t know what you want me to say. we’re barely even friends anymore. you come back here, after all this time, after so much shit happened, and expect us all to drop everything to fit you back into our lives. but, you don't. whatever you came here for, it's not here for you. there's nothing to go back to. we moved on. i moved on, and i can’t deal with you —"

“got it,” you snap, already turning to walk away. “loud and fucking clear, luke.”

it’s not like it meant anything. we’re barely even friends anymore.

you replay luke’s words as you crawl into bed, holding back tears so as to not disturb percy. finally, you swallow a generous amount of whatever concoction lou ellen had brewed up for you.

drifting off into your own sleep, you decide that you don’t love luke anymore. not as a friend, not as a.....

nope.

according to luke, there's not even anything to go back to.

nothing.

#feel free to comment + reblog <3 #saf writes #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan #percy jackson #pjo fanfic #pjo series #pjo x reader #luke castellan angst

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maximumqueer · 8 months ago

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Yamato, Transness, and "Passing"

Now that we're nearly a full arc removed from Wano and Yamato's introduction, I want to talk about the reaction that a subset of the one piece fandom had to his reveal as a trans man/transmasc person, the transphobia behind that reaction, and how the concept of passing plays into that reaction. I'm not going to be arguing that Yamato is a trans man, as I think it is very obvious that he is given how he is referred to in the canon text. This is instead going to be more of a fandom dissection of why (in my personal opinion) so many people refuse to acknowledge Yamato as a man.

When we are first introduced to Yamato, he is dressed in a way that gives him the appearance of a flat chest, and is wearing a mask to hide his face. He looks like a man in a cis-heteronormative way

When Yamato was depicted like this, he was (from what I can tell) mostly referred to with he/him pronouns by the fanbase. This is based on comments underneath his chapter debut and episode debut. There are comments under his episode debut that do use she/her pronouns and refer to him as a woman, but because these episodes have been out for a while, it would make sense that these kinds of comments would be left on his debut after his second design was revealed.

Then, when he removes his mask and outer layer of his outfit, he is depicted like this

After this reveal, more people began to refer to Yamato with she/her pronouns, and refer to him as Kaido's daughter, despite him referring to himself as Kaido's son, as well as the people around him using he/him pronouns exclusively for him. What changed? Well, Yamato went from having a design that looked traditionally masculine to having a more traditionally feminine one. As such people who associate only women with having breasts and more "feminine" features began to insist that Yamato was a tomboy, or a delusional woman, anything but accept that fact that he is a man.

There is a phenomena with trans "acceptance", where a character is accepted as trans only if they look like their gender according to the cis-heteronormative ideal, and questioned and denied if they don't. Kiku, a trans woman who "passes" as a woman did not receive nearly the same level of speculation and denial of her trans identity. (This is not to say that Kiku received no hate or transphobic comments, but that because she looks like a woman to the average cis-het viewer, she was treated as a "real" trans person, whereas Yamato was not).

Yamato has been repeatedly referred to as mentally ill for being a "non-passing" trans man. He has been called bad representation (despite large numbers trans men/transmasc people, myself included, saying that his IS good representation). People have made claims with no canon backing in an attempt to hand wave away his transness because he "looks like a woman", a popular one being that Kaido some how forced Yamato into being a man, despite his backstory telling us the exact opposite.

And the reasoning for all of this speculation is that trans people are held to such high standards in terms of appearance and presentation, even in fictional media. A trans man must have a flat chest, deep voice, facial hair etc. or he isn't actually trans. A trans woman must have breasts, a high voice, a lack of facial hair, etc. or she isn't actually trans. Non-binary people are dismissed entirely. This denies the many different and diverse ways that a person can be trans. Sure, some trans people wish to medically transition, get the "surgery" and go through life as if they were cis. But not all trans people want that. Gender is messy and complicated, its not nearly as black and white a we have been taught to believe. There are many trans people (both binary and non-binary) who will never medically transition. That does not make them less trans, it does not make them delusional. Yet because we have this black and white thinking ingrained in us from childhood, any deviation from the strict boxes of "man" and "woman" are immediately questioned, and that includes gender non-conforming people - both trans and cis.

This type of transphobia is not talked about enough, as the people doing it will so often hide behind the idea that they are protecting "real" trans people, and just want to make sure that they are respected and taken seriously. But, respect for a persons gender identity CANNOT be conditional. It does not matter if they "don't pass". It doesn't matter if they are a good person, a bad person. The second you start dictating who gets to have their gender respected is the second you stop being an ally. And that includes fictional characters like Yamato.

#one piece #one piece meta #one piece spoilers #wano arc #wano spoilers #yamato one piece #one piece fandom #transgender

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yawnderu · 1 year ago

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K-9 — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader | Chapter IV

Sick as a dog, and just as vicious.

1 2 3 4 5

What's a Lieutenant if not someone you can use as a stress reliever

Being a gifted medic comes with free rewards

You weren't the only one catching up on some sleep. Simon was awake throughout Johnny's entire surgery despite having slept four hours the previous night, wanting to be available in case you needed his help, finally getting some much-needed rest after being practically forced by Price.

He wakes up six hours later, a small groan escaping his lips at the light entering his window. His burly arm comes up to cover his eyes, shielding them from the bright sun.

''Fuckin' hell.'' He muttered, getting up from bed and putting on a black balaclava. Shit went down yesterday, with Johnny almost dying, and Makarov is now free, able to continue killing civilians until they're finally able to catch him. At the very least, his best friend is alive and stable last time he visited.

Simon leaves his room, walking to the cafeteria to get a bottle of cold water and a few granola bars before heading to your quarters, knocking on the door softly in case you're asleep. No reply. He knows better, but... what if something happened to you? He uses the pathetic excuse to justify his actions, hand turning the doorknob carefully before stepping inside, footsteps surprisingly quiet for someone his size.

What a fucking sight. He stared at your sleeping figure for a while, taking in the details of your face when it wasn't pulled into a scowl or a bored expression, a small smile tugging on his lips at how peaceful you look before he realized how creepy he was being. He shook his head softly as if to snap out of it, putting the water bottle and granola bars before turning away to try and leave.

Try, because a much smaller hand wrapped around his wrist, almost making him flinch because of how sudden it was. He looks down at you only to find your eyes boring into his, tugging him closer by the wrist. A confused Simon followed like a lost dog before his feet rooted on the ground in front of your bed, giving you a questioning look with his eyes.

''Come lay with me.'' Your voice is much gentler than usual, laced with something he can't quite recognize yet. Simon knows better, really he does, but who is he to question the medic he's been pining on for months? He hesitantly removes his boots and climbs into bed with you, keeping a respectful distance despite his behemoth frame taking over half of the bed. His muscles tense up when he feels you cuddling up to him, being a painfully fitting piece against his body.

''What are you on bout, doc?'' You don't reply, simply examining his eyes for any hints of hesitation. You find nervousness, curiosity, doubt, and even the smallest hints of fear, but no hesitation at all. Your hand sneaks up to the bottom of his balaclava, pulling it all the way off before your lips crash into his hungrily. It takes him a few seconds of pure confusion before he kisses back, arms wrapped around your waist, and whatever questions he has on why you're doing this all of sudden pushed to the back of his mind.

Your hands grab at anything they can reach— muscle, skin, hair... anything, holding onto his much bigger body like a lifeline, his warm hands running up and down your back. He has fantasized about this moment so many times, yet the real thing is so different in a good way.

''Tell me I can touch you, bird.'' You simply nod your head and try to go back to kissing him, but he pulls away, gently squeezing your waist to make you look at him.

''Use your words.'' His words are almost pleading, wanting to make sure you want the same thing.

''I want you to touch me, Simon.'' Not a second passes before his lips are back on yours, tongues wrapping around each other's as his hands start to drift down, grabbing a handful of your ass. His touch is so desperate it almost makes you laugh, one of your hands sneaking down his shirt and feeling him up, defined muscles flexing under your touch. His slightly shaky hands fumble with the button of your jeans, breaking away from the kiss just to look at you and make sure you still want it. The half-lidded look you give him is enough confirmation, pulling down your jeans and getting on his knees, between your legs.

"Been wanting to do this since I saw ya." He confesses, too excited for his fantasies finally coming true to even feel remotely bashful about his words. He lifts up your shirt enough to reveal your tummy, gentle kisses planted on every single inch of skin his lips can reach as he slowly descends, planting open mouthed kisses over your clothed cunt.

"Fuck—" Your back arches at the feeling, eyes screwed shut as your hand goes to the back of his head, pushing him closer. His tongue is warm and wet, saliva mixing in with your growing arousal. He pushes your panties to the side, looking down at your gleaming pussy before digging in, tongue lapping the wetness before he latches onto your cunt, sucking and licking away like a starved man.

"You taste s'fucking good." He praises before going back down, the flat of his tongue moving around your cunt before slowly going inside, your whiny moans and hands gripping his short hair are all the encouragement he needs. He latches onto your clit next, long fingers teasing the entrance of your cunt, spreading your arousal all over them before he slowly enters you with one.

His fingers are thick and long, whiny moans escaping your lips as he adds a second one, making scissoring motions as he fucks his fingers deeper and deeper into you, tongue alternating between licking and sucking on your clit before hesitantly letting go.

"Sit on my face." It's not even a request, it sounds like a plea, though you quickly listen to his words for the first time ever, cunt hovering above his face as soon as he lays back down. He grabs a handful of your ass, squeezing the plush and pulling your body down to his face, eating you out like a starved man. His hands let go of your ass to unbuckle his belt, barely having the strength to pull his hard cock out of his jeans, eyes closing as he focused on the dual sensation of pleasuring you with his mouth and pleasuring himself with his hand, pre staining his fingers as his hand moves up and down his shaft faster.

"Fuck— Just like that, Si." Si. You never call him anything other than Simon. Sometimes Ghost, when you're needed during missions and hang around them in the helos, but the way you say his name... so much affection, even if it only comes from making you feel good. He's pathetic— God, he knows he's being pathetic, cock twitching in his hand at the idea of you reciprocating his complex and strange feelings for you, ropes of thick cum shooting out into his hand and stomach, a low growl coming out of his lips as he squeezed his cock dry of cum.

He focuses solely on you now, tongue swirling and flickering all over you, his clean hand coming up to rub your clit with his thumb while he assaults your dripping wet cunt with his lips and tongue. Your hands go down to his head, fingers pulling on his short hair while you use his face to feel good, getting closer and closer to the edge.

"Si, I'm gonna cum—" But he doesn't stop. Hell, his thumb moves even faster over your sensitive bud, tongue-fucking your pussy as deep as he can until he can feel your body shaking on top of him, thighs closing in on his head and squeezing as the intensity of your orgasm washes over you, his waiting mouth taking in all your juices, lapping at them greedily until you pull away from the stimulation, shaky legs managing to position yourself next to him, head against his chest.

"You hear that? Price is calling you." You lie, unable to contain the smirk on your lips as he flicks your nose.

"Piss off, doc." His burly arms wrap around you, a loud groan of protest escaping your lips when you realize you're forced to cuddle with him.

[PREVIOUS]

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flowerandblood · 2 months ago

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The Price of Pride (21/?)

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: the death of one of the characters, trauma, description of the battle and wounds, kissing, the angst, many things from Lady Royce's childhood presented in a different light ]

[ description: Prince Aemond finds a solution to the disproportion in the number of dragons between Dragonstone and King's Landing: he decides to find dragon blood and, like his half-sister, train dragon riders. He takes as his target the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, whom he abducts and imprisons in the Red Keep. Slow burn, darkish, insolent, arrogant Aemond. I have combined several requests here: (dragon blood female & prisoner female). ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

If your trust in me is dependent on your mood, it means that our marriage is a mere fiction without foundation, and I remain your slave.

Her words, despite trying to drown out his inner thoughts with wine, came back to him like a fly buzzing around his head. He was furious with her – no one had ever spoken to him like that before, not even his father or mother, let alone someone who was a stranger to him.

His inner envy and resentful, masculine pride assured him that he was doing the right thing by punishing her with the lack of his presence – he felt that his fears and words were completely justified, and she had become hysterical, as had often happened to women over the centuries.

He pressed his lips together, creating small, burning wounds around his nails with his thumb, picking at the cuticles around them as if he wanted to rip his skin down to the very flesh.

He preferred to think of how much she had enraged him rather than how he dreaded what was to come.

The Prince Regent could not be afraid – he was now the head of the entire Kingdom and could not hesitate, he repeated to himself, but his knee bounced in a nervous gesture anyway as he sat by the hearth, staring into the fire, unable to calm himself.

He hid his face in his hand, a quiet sigh on the verge of a groan left his throat at the thought that despite everything he would rather have her with him now.

She was able to reassure him: she knew exactly how to embrace him, stroke him, kiss him, what to say and when to say it.

An uncomfortable sting in his heart accompanied his conviction that her scent, her calm voice, her soft, gentle hands and her body in which he could hide was just what he needed.

He knew that after what she had said she had no intention of visiting him. He would have been willing to wait until dawn and let them both cool off, trying to reason with her again the next day, had it not been for the fact that he had no more time.

He was supposed to leave later that night, and she didn't know it.

Some part of him wanted to give in, to let go of his pride, his prejudices and go to her, to feel her once more, melting with her into one. He knew that although she certainly resented him, she would have allowed him to take her if he had been gentle: a condition of their momentary truce would have to be that he did not humiliate her, and their closeness would be an attempt at reconciliation, a proof of mutual tenderness and devotion.

But he knew that if he went to her, if he felt her, if he came inside her, his mask would crack: he would not be able to hide from her how terrified he was, or worse, he would burst out sobbing like a little boy.

He couldn't afford that, because then she would try to find out what had happened, and he would have to tell her.

So he could not go to her, which put him in a helpless position: he was not such a fool as to disregard the possibility that, after what was about to happen, she might never see him again.

Did she deserve for him to abandon her like this, without a word of explanation?

He thought for a long time, feeling the panic slowly rising within him, only to come up with an idea that seemed perfect after a while.

A letter.

He got up from his seat and took a piece of parchment, a quill and an inkwell from one of the wooden drawers, sitting down behind the wide oak table. He leaned over, dipped the tip of the quill into the ink and began to write, for the first time addressing words to someone in this way, without using official language or phrases.

Ñuha hāedar (my little sister), we part in anger and I sincerely regret it. Know that my intention was not to humiliate you or to undermine your loyalty to me, of which I have been certain for a long time. Perhaps I was unable, as is my custom, to find appropriate, more thoughtful words to describe my concerns, for which I ask your forgiveness. I set out to meet your father full of trepidation, hoping that you will also forgive me for not taking you with me, despite my promises. I cannot and do not want to risk your life. I have taken enough from you by force. Many things I have done to you in the past I now think of with shame. If I fall, bend the knee before your father and confess that I forced you to do everything. You have my blessing to do so. All I ask is that you keep in your heart the memory of me as your brother who truly loved you. I promise that wherever I find myself after death, I will be waiting for you there. Aōha lēkia (your big brother)

He swallowed hard, putting the quill down on the table top, feeling for some reason that his hands were shaking, his throat clenched, his heart pounding like mad, a burning sensation under his eyelids.

It was a farewell.

She said she could only see me and the child, but you were not with us.

She said she could only hear the sound of the water.

He closed his eye and leaned forward, feeling his whole body screaming for him to stay, for him not to do this.

What could Daemon do if he just didn't show up?

If he had mocked him and let him wait for something that would not come?

The whole of King's Landing would have found out that he hadn't attended the duel.

That their prince was a craven, a scared little boy, not a man.

He got up from his seat and rolled up the letter, tying it with a ribbon, then summoned his servant. The boy came in a moment later and bowed, clearly tired and half-conscious, surprised that he had expected his presence at such a late hour.

"Your Grace?"

"Prepare my armour. I'm setting off for patrol." He lied, extending a rolled-up piece of parchment towards him. "You will carry this to my wife in the morrow if I do not return."

The boy nodded, surprised, and left, leaving him alone with his thoughts. A moment later, he and the other man, whom he had apparently woken, walked into his chamber with all the parts of his armour.

He thought grimly, putting the chainmail on over his thick woollen tunic, that he had never worn it before – he had never taken part in knight's tournaments, considering it a childish matter that he did not care for.

However, when he felt its weight on his shoulders he regretted that he had never fought in it before.

Even moving his arm, not yet holding a sword in his hand, he felt that its weight would slow him down, that he would not be as skilful as he had been when sparring with Criston Cole.

The thought made him feel a cold sweat on his back.

He decided that all his hair should be tied back – his servants couldn't braid because they weren't women, so he didn't even try to ask them to do it, ordering them instead to simply tie it up with a black ribbon at the back of his head.

My wife would know how to do this, he thought regretfully, recalling in his memories her delicate fingers weaving strands of his hair together.

His armour was heavy, but it was the thought of him abandoning her in such a manner that weighed down on his heart.

When he looked at himself in the mirror, he thought he looked like a prince from the legends, a great knight who was going to bravely face another powerful man. Though he believed it would be just the opposite, he recognised that there was no pride in it, no glory – just that he was flying to meet death in the form of his uncle, ready to commit kinslaying again.

But he couldn't take a step back, even though some part of him wanted so badly to be a coward.

To his displeasure, the commotion he caused in the middle of the night aroused the interest of Criston Cole, who was on watch at the time.

"My Prince. Can it really not wait until morn? What will you see in the darkness of the night?" He asked him, and he pressed his lips together, furious that he expected him to make an explanation.

"I won't sleep until I'm sure there's no danger lurking in the sky. I'll be back soon. Prepare me a rested horse." He ordered, turning again to the young stable boy, who merely nodded and ran out of his quarters.

Cole looked at him with a look of worry on his face that annoyed him.

"I know what you think of me, how much you despise me because of what I have done. I deserve this punishment, your rejection. I promise that, as I have done so far, I will bear it with dignity. But let me stand by you now that war is at our doorstep."

He felt an unpleasant constriction in his throat, a sting in his heart testifying to the fact that his betrayal was in fact the cause of his immense pain and unhappiness, the grief of losing someone he had considered his comrade and companion.

You cannot help me with what is to come, he thought inside his head.

"If you wish to regain my favour, watch at my wife's chamber until my return. I leave her in your care." He said coldly and sidestepped him, not wanting him to see in the gaze of his healthy eye the thing that made his whole body quiver.

Fear.

Following his order, his mount was already waiting for him when he stepped out into the courtyard of Harrenhal – he strapped his sword and helmet to its saddle, then jumped onto its back and slammed his feet into its sides, making the horse move ahead in a gallop.

The night was chilly, teasing his cheeks unpleasantly – Vhagar's liege was not far away, but some part of him longed for this journey to last for hours.

To postpone as much as possible what he was about to face.

His dragoness sensed his trepidation immediately – she awoke and lifted her head high, leaning towards him as he jumped off his horse, hitting his body with a hot breath of steam. He pressed his forehead against her hard, scratchy scales, feeling that it was just him and her now.

No one else.

"Emi naejot gaomagon ziry, ñuha jorrāelagon raqiros. Dohaeragon nyke. (We have to do it, my dear friend. Help me.)" He whispered, but he knew that some part of her understood him – she squawked loudly, as if to let him know that she was ready.

The blood and fire of Old Valyria flowed through her veins again, just as it had in the days of her greatest battles.

He sighed heavily and moved towards the long ropes hanging down the sides of her great body, wondering how he was supposed to climb with such a weight on her back. He grabbed one and pulled, figuring he may have had enough strength in his arms to do so, when he heard the clatter of hooves in the distance.

He turned around, startled, sure that it was Cole who had moved after him, but froze, seeing her silhouette clearly in the moonlight.

She was breathing loudly through her mouth, her hair tied up in a braid, unruly strands stuck to her cheeks moist with sweat from exertion.

She only jumped off the back of her mare when she was right in front of him, and then she rushed at him, swinging her hand as if she wanted to slap him in the face – involuntarily he grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards him, her body slamming into his with a loud clang of steel.

"You fucking bastard! How dare you leave me behind!" She shouted in his face in a breaking, childish voice, her doe eyes red from tears, her dark eyebrows arched in pain and grief.

He, however, simply stared at her, unable to believe that she was standing in front of him.

She followed him.

His wife.

He kissed her – fear and uncertainty had robbed him of the ability to speak, so he showed what he felt with this caress, aggressive and sticky, full of their tongues, saliva and teeth.

She moaned furiously into his mouth, but did not push him away – quite the opposite, they embraced each other tightly, devouring each other in this violent, loud act of union, her closeness, her scent, her fingers clenched in his hair tender and familiar.

His body's reaction was immediate, as if he had fallen into some kind of euphoria.

His erection was so hard that it caused him pain.

"My armour got unpleasantly tight. Right here." He breathed out into her throat, rubbing his hips against her stomach, feeling the discomfort between his thighs, trying to find any outlet for the tension that was building in his manhood.

He thought with his cock, as he didn't want to remind himself of what he was about to do.

She, however, pulled him down to the ground.

"Take me with you." She mumbled, stroking his jaw with her fingers.

For some reason, her words caused him pain.

He needed to hear it, needed her by his side, but he couldn't be that selfish.

He had forced her to do enough things.

He strangled her, pressed her face to the ground, forced her to tame the dragon even though she could have died, himself considering when and how he should get rid of her, using her for his pleasure in the end, giving her no security, no guarantee that he had in any way even considered marrying her.

Only now, in that moment, did he understand why all this time his mother had been looking at him this way.

He had made her his whore, even though he could, after all, have treated her with dignity from the very beginning.

Was this how a man of honour behaved?

"I want you to live, even if I'm gone. Daemon, if he succeeds in defeating me, will not kill you. You will tell him that I forced you to marry me." He whispered, wanting to behave as he should this time.

Like a good man, a good brother, a good husband.

He closed his eye as her thumb ran over his jawline, her warm hand cupping his cold cheek soothingly, making him feel safe.

"You promised me something then, under a starry sky, like the one spreading over our heads now. You said: tame a dragon, and your place will always be by my side. It was not to be my punishment, but my reward. So reward me, for my devotion, courage and faithfulness. Let me spend the night with you." She said softly.

He opened his eye, feeling his heart beat harder, as if his body was giving him a sign that it still wanted to live, and the blood still flowed through his veins.

Although he had felt dead a moment before, he now took a breath again, as if he had risen from the sea depths to the surface.

He kissed her as he had always dreamed of being kissed: the caresses he placed on her plump lips were sweet and moist, sticky with his desire and the feeling that burned in his heart like a living fire, giving him hope.

In that moment, although he was not aware of it, he gave vent to his grief and frustration, a thought that had been circling in his head for many months, but which he had not allowed to reach his consciousness because of his pride.

He could not bear the fact that he had not met her sooner – that Daemon had never taken her with him to the Red Keep.

He saw her through the eyes of his imagination as a little girl, as lost and bewildered as he was – alone in a strange place, among strange people and a strange culture, where fire and blood ruled. His nature, which made him love to show off his knowledge and rhetoric would have made him, though no doubt reluctantly, acquaint her with all the secrets their lineage, their history, their heritage held.

She would not have a dragon, and neither would he.

He would no longer be alone.

Perhaps she would have helped him then, that night, and climbed onto Vhagar's back with him.

Perhaps they would have set off towards the skies together, laughing and shouting with joy.

Perhaps she would have stood up for him and he would never have lost his left eye.

Perhaps he would have smiled more often, teasing her all the time.

Perhaps his first experience with a woman would not have been in a brothel with a whore in his mother's age, but her, just as inexperienced, beautiful in her innocence.

Perhaps she would have borne him a son or a daughter long ago, being his wife and closest companion.

He felt that he had been robbed of their years together, of the possibility of being a different person, of retaining something in himself that was pure, true, honest.

He was a shadow of himself, a sullen, tall figure in black, a stone lying at the foot of the Iron Throne.

"– hāedar (little sister) –" He breathed out into her mouth, this young girl whom he would kiss fervently in the dark corridors of the Red Keep, slowly discovering with her the secrets and nooks of her soft, warm body, her throbbing womanhood leaking under his fingers.

He craved what had been taken from them – he wanted to be a boy with two eyes again, to regain what he had lost.

He wanted Luke to be still alive.

He felt a heavy, burning, lonely tear gather under his eyelid at that thought, but she wiped it away with her thumb before it could run down, pressing her forehead against his.

"– lēkia (big brother) –" She hummed softly, causing a pleasant, warm feeling to ripple through his heart.

"– promise not to leave my side –" He muttered in a breaking voice.

She smiled at his words.

"– I promise –"

They embraced and cuddled into each other in a way that was delightfully innocent – although he passionately desired her, there was no lust in the gesture itself, but a need for simple closeness and comfort.

"– don't make Aegon's mistake – stay away until I give you the sign – do you understand? –" He whispered in her ear and she nodded.

"– yes –"

Her presence gave him strength and, although with difficulty, he managed to climb onto Vhagar's back. He turned behind himself, spotting her seated figure, Sheepstealer rose from the ground at her command.

"Sōvēs! (Fly!)" He called out, and a moment later, Vhagar's body shook as she lazily began to rise on her paws. She moved forward, making the ground around them tremble, and then took to the skies with difficulty.

He breathed loudly as he saw the silhouettes of Sheepstealer at his side and his wife sitting on his back – although he was still terrified, their presence was a comfort to him.

On the one hand, he felt remorse that he had been so weak as to expose her; on the other, he thought that perhaps, in fact, her presence would bring Daemon out of balance and give them a chance.

Or at least that was how he tried to console himself.

The journey from Harrenhal to Gods Eye was not a long one – he swallowed hard, noticing that his uncle had not yet appeared.

What if it was an ambush?

They both landed on a hill near the lake in the open space, so that he could see exactly what was going on around them. He looked to the side and noticed that his wife was staring at the sheet of water spreading out beside them.

He swallowed hard, looking at her uncertainly – some part of him that was still afraid he was going to die wanted to tell her that he loved her, but he only managed to open his mouth when he heard a screech in the skies.

They both lifted their heads up, terrified and anxious, as the powerful figure of Caraxes flew over their heads – he grabbed the ropes, ready to command Vhagar to breathe fire, Daemon, however, landed in front of them, his dragon's paws slamming into the ground, its head stopped just in front of Vhagar's muzzle.

Both dragons squawked loudly, but he wasn't sure if it was an expression of threat or greeting.

After all, they had flown together in the skies for many years.

"I thought you were a man, nephew, yet you hide behind my daughter's skirt like a coward." He exclaimed mockingly, pulling his helmet off his head.

He was exactly as he remembered him – his ironic grin, his narrow, shrewd gaze, the lightness and pride with which he spoke made him feel an unpleasant wave of humiliation flow along his spine.

"I named my hound after you, Father." He heard his wife's voice at his side and lifted his chin higher, feeling a sudden, pleasant shiver of satisfaction.

Daemon pressed his lips into a thin line, but did not look at her, as if afraid of what he might see.

"My wife longed to greet her father. Who am I to take that right away from her?" He hummed, feeling a sudden surge of confidence, realising they had the advantage over him.

Two dragons against one.

His uncle snorted and shook his head, looking up at the stars above their heads as if bored.

"You tell me. You took away her right to decide for herself when you abducted her to the Red Keep. Did you ask her opinion on the matter then too?" He sneered.

"That is no longer your concern." His wife said coldly, looking at Daemon in a way he had never seen before – her face was stony and cold, her forehead smooth, her eyebrows raised in disapproval and some kind of disgust, her hands clenched into fists.

Her father finally looked at her and it made him uneasy – he had the feeling that they had both forgotten his presence for a moment.

He swallowed hard and glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, noticing what he had feared.

Her mask was slowly cracking, showing the pain, regret and disappointment that filled her whole heart.

"Where were you when this happened? How did you protect me that you have the audacity to mention it now?" She asked sternly, making him feel an unpleasant sting in his heart.

Where were you when this happened?

His hand clamped around her neck as if he wanted to strangle her, his fingers gripping her hair, pressing her face to the ground.

"I sent my men to deal with the matter. However, they did not find your husband, for he was with his whore at the time. These fools killed the boy." Daemon said dispassionately making his heart stop beating for a moment.

I sent my men to deal with the matter.

Daemon didn't send them in revenge for Luke.

He sent them in revenge for her.

His wife seemed as shocked as he was, as she simply looked at her father in disbelief, as if she could not find the right words to answer him.

"Then the matter was determined. I would have tried to intervene again by force, but Lysa kept me informed of what was happening. That you were succumbing to your tormentor and his manipulations. Therefore, you have put me in an impossible situation." He concluded.

Lysa.

Her servant had been spying for him.

He felt himself begin to boil with rage, feeling like a little boy who had been fooled again.

From the very beginning he thought he had gained the upper hand over him, and it was the complete opposite.

While Daemon knew everything about them, he had no information about what was happening in Dragonstone.

"My mother. Did you kill her?" Her voice full of anger and grief snapped him out of his reverie.

"I did." Her father replied without hesitation.

"Why? Haven't you taken enough of her?" She asked in pain.

"For months she had the woman who cared for you add poison to your milk. Measter, when he realised, informed your cousin and he informed me. When I arrived, you were already in a fever." He said annoyed, speaking louder and louder with every word.

When I was a child I often had trouble falling asleep.

My nanny would then bring me warm milk mixed with honey and ground grains brought from distant Essos.

He looked at her, feeling that the situation was beginning to get out of hand – he hadn't expected any discussion to occur or what their would hear – his wife's face twisted into a grimace, as if her father had slapped her across the face.

"I don't believe you." She muttered.

"She wanted to get rid of you. When I offered to take you to King's Landing, she refused. I had no choice but to kill the whore."

"You left me behind!" She whined, as if someone was forcing a blade into her body, Sheepstealers squawked loudly, feeling her pain.

"I will take you with me this time. But you must let me resolve the matter between me and my nephew. Do not interfere. Caraxes!" He called out, and his dragon squealed loudly, raising its head, ready to attack.

"NO!" He heard her shout, but neither of them listened to her anymore.

"Angōs, Vhagar! (Attack, Vhagar!)" He shouted in response, and the two great beasts collided with each other, sinking their fangs into each other's bodies. Vhagar jerked, biting a chunk of flesh from Caraxes stomach, but he was not indebted to her and drove his claws into her gut.

Both dragons squawked in pain and flapped their wings, trying to separate and lift themselves into the air. When Caraxes let her go, he pulled on the ropes and forced his dragoness to soar up and then down, opening her maw wide.

"DRAKARYS!" He and Daemon shouted at the same moment, and two long columns of fire struck each other in the air, lighting up the night sky around them. He turned on his saddle, trying to escape the hot flames, panting with exertion, seeing only the endlessly black sheet of water below him.

Was this what she had seen in her dream?

Caraxes shot upwards like a serpentine, folding his wings along his body, flying on them at tremendous speed – his voice stuck in his throat, and no command left his lips when he caught sight of Daemon's silhouette leaping off the back of his dragon, falling on top of him with the sword in his hand, gripped so as to thrust it into his head.

He knew he wouldn't be able to dodge, and even if he succeeded, Daemon would finish the job when Caraxes hit Vhagar.

His body froze, fear paralysed his limbs, disbelief and terror surged like lightning along his spine.

Then he heard a swish – his uncle seemed surprised, his mouth opened wide as the arrowhead slammed into his neck, the only place that was exposed. The impact changed the trajectory of his flight – he heard him draw in air loudly before he began to fall downwards.

He clenched his hands tightly on the ropes tied to his saddle as Caraxes slammed into Vhagar – his dragoness acted without his commands, immediately thrusting her fangs and claws into his flesh, tearing him apart.

He sighed as Sheepstealer and she flashed beneath him – his heart thumped hard in his chest as he saw Daemon's body fall into the water, and she jumped after him.

"– hāedar! –" He shouted in a breaking voice, not knowing what to do, how to help her, how to react to what she had just done.

Did she know how to swim?

He had never done that, and if he jumped in after her in full armour, they would both drown.

"Dohaerās, Vhagar! (Serve me, Vhagar!)" He howled, with all the strength he had in his arms pulling at the ropes, trying to direct Vhagar to the place over which the Sheepstealer was circling, squealing and wailing, the numb body of Caraxes fell down with his cry.

He thought he could try to drop her rope, but Vhagar's wings hovering over the surface of the water caused waves to form.

She won't be able to swim out, he thought in despair.

"FUCK!" He groaned and burst out crying as he soared higher, circling above the place, quickly unbuckling all the pieces of armour he was able to remove on his own, wanting to jump in after her.

Then Sheepstealer suddenly changed the course of his flight, folded his wings so that his silhouette formed a straight line, and hit the water with all his might, disappearing beneath its surface.

He was panting heavily, looking at the place where they both disappeared, hearing the sound of the wind all around him, panting all over with fear and terror, whooping with his tears.

"– gods, please – please, please, please, not her –"

He shuddered as Sheepstealer's silhouette suddenly emerged from the water with a mighty splash, her drenched silhouette lying helplessly between his fangs.

"– hāedar! –" He shouted, flying after them towards the shore where her dragon had finally landed.

He saw Sheepstealer gently open his maw, letting her body slide to the ground – he jumped off his saddle, sliding down the ropes, falling heavily to his knees. He thought he had probably just broken something, but he didn't care, immediately throwing himself towards her.

He turned her onto her back – she was all wet and pale, her eyes closed, her mouth wide open as if she wanted to take a breath, but was unable to.

"– hāedar – gods, what have you done –" He exhaled, grabbing her into his embrace, lifting her to sit so that he threw her head over his shoulder, slapping her back hard with his palm.

"– come on – come on, breathe, come back to me –" He mumbled, hitting harder – he let out a sigh of relief as she coughed and spat out the water that flowed into her lungs, catching a loud, raspy breath.

"– that's it – that's it – that's my girl –" He whispered, feeling her whole body tremble in his embrace – he snuggled her into him, but the steel of his armour was cold and she was drenched.

He grabbed her under the hips and lifted her with an effort, limping on one leg, feeling more and more clearly that he had probably twisted his ankle when he jumped off Vhagar.

He sat down with her next to Sheepstealer's stomach, the warmest part of any dragon's body – Sheepstealer settled in such a way that he enveloped their bodies on each side, clearly understanding what he wanted to do.

He heard her burst into sobs, and while part of him was furious that she had thrown herself after him, the other part of him was just happy that she was alive.

"– I didn't – I didn't want to hurt him – I-I just wanted him not to reach you – he – he grabbed my hand, and then he let me go – I wanted to save him, but he let me go – why, why did he do that? –" She mumbled in a breaking voice, breathing louder and louder, as if the mere memory of what had happened made her panic.

Because it wouldn't have changed anything anyway, he thought in the back of his head.

His body trembling all over after Luke disappeared inside Vhagar's maw with his loud, childish cry, his face pressed against the front of his saddle, his heart pounding like mad in terror, his throat and lungs compressed as if he were suffocating, tears of fear running down his face.

All I wanted was his eye, as atonement for mine.

I killed a man.

"– easy –" He whispered, pressing his nose into her wet hair, feeling the moisture from her clothes and skin slowly begin to evaporate under the heat.

He felt like he would literally boil in his armour under the temperature, but he knew he couldn't let her go now.

He was alone then, but he wasn't going to let the same thing happen to her.

Because of the fact that he understood how she felt, he knew what she needed.

"– if it wasn't for you, he would have killed me – you saw for yourself – it was a battle – I owe you my life, zaldrītsos –" He whispered, stroking her back, placing warm, gentle kisses on her face.

She covered her eyes with her hands, wailing and moaning, the pain that tore at her heart unbearable.

"– no – no, no, no, no –" She mumbled, and he pressed his lips together, knowing that this was exactly what it would be like for the next few weeks, maybe even months.

Denial, remorse, rage, grief, despair, pain, nightmares and panic.

Everything he was experiencing deep inside himself, she would be experiencing now and there was nothing he could do to ease her suffering.

He could only be.

"– tell me it's not true – that I didn't do it – that it's just a bad dream – please, lēkia, I need to hear it –" She pleaded like a small child in hysterics, her trembling hand gripping his cheek, asking him to look at her in this way.

He swallowed hard, finally pressing his forehead against hers, running the tip of his nose over the soft skin of her face.

"– I'll be by your side all the time – I won't leave you for a moment – I promise –"

"– GET OUT –" She shouted, pushing him away suddenly, enraged that he didn't comply with her request, wanting to get up.

"– hāedar –" He sighed, holding her tightly.

"– GET OUT – GET OUT – GET OUT –" She sobbed, wiping the tears from her cheeks with her hands, panting heavily, trying to move away from him, acting more like a wild animal than a human being.

"– I can't – you're all soaked – we need to keep you warm –" He explained calmly, feeling strangely in control, not experiencing any irritation or anger looking at her behaviour.

She was horrified by what she had done and was in shock, and he had to help her get through it now.

It's going to be worse once she calms down and locks herself deep inside her, he thought, struggling with her, holding her close.

"– I want to get back in the water – he's still there – maybe he's still alive –" She mumbled, completely absorbed in the chaos of her thoughts and despair, extending her hand towards the surface of the lake.

"– I can't let you do it, zaldrītsos – he's no longer suffering – he's with our ancestors in the heavens – my father is surely just now welcoming him with open arms –" He whispered, and she whined loudly at his words, leaning low, pressing her face against his thigh.

He held her close and stroked her body, her hair, her shoulders, her back, wanting her to feel that he was there for her even if she couldn't understand it now.

When he was going through it himself, all he wanted was for someone to embrace him, to stroke his head, to tell him that he was forgiven, that he wasn't a bad man, that it was an accident.

That's why he knew how important it was for her to understand that she had saved his life.

"– if it wasn't for you, his blade would have pierced my skull – I would have fallen into the water with him – we would have both be dead –" He said softly, hearing her breathing loudly, slowly calming down.

At one point there was complete silence and he knew that this was the moment – he grabbed her in his arms and instructed her to hold on to him tightly as he began to climb up onto Vhagar's back.

He knew that in such a state she would not be able to fly on Sheepstealer.

When they returned to Harrenhal, it was beginning to dawn – the sun was lazily rising over the horizon. His wife was breathing and that was the only sign that she was alive – her body sitting in front of him in the saddle was devoid of strength, her face turned to the side, her empty gaze staring into the distance.

Her thoughts were far away, with her father when she was still a small child.

When they landed, instead of riding a horse, he made his way from Vhagar's liege to the fortress on foot, despite the pain in his ankle. He was in no hurry – he held her in his arms, her hands thrown around his neck, her legs entwined at his back. She clung to him like a baby and he didn't want her to have to change position, to pull away from him, from his body, his closeness and warmth.

She was like a little child that had left her mother's womb anew, terrified of how cold and cruel the world around her was.

Criston Cole ran out to meet them, spotting them from the walls of the stronghold.

"Good gods, what has happened? Where have you been?" He asked.

He stopped, looking at him indifferently, feeling a painful throbbing in his leg, his hand stroking her back reassuringly.

"Daemon is dead."

271 notes · View notes

dunmesh · 7 months ago

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laios and shuro's relationship is so important to me it's not funny anymore... the fact shuro kept believing in laios during the latter part of the manga, then searched for him after laios became a monster and defeated the winged lion- although it was unclear what exactly had become of him- is haunting me because of how it contrasts with him choosing to give up on saving falin after he saw her as a chimera. like, laios was so sure that their fight in chapter 38 was the end of their friendship while in reality it was the beginning of it in shuro's eyes. laios kept agonizing over losing the one friend he cared for the most but it's because he didn't understand the significance of that little thing he kept carrying with him in every step until the very end of the series: the bell.

shuro gave him that bell as a token of his trust in him and his love: "we grew apart and i'm no longer fit for the position by your side, but no matter how far you go, i'll be there for you when you need me". their conflict over how to deal with falin forced them to go in different directions, but despite accepting leaving falin behind, shuro couldn't bring himself to abandon laios as well. and it's no coincidence that the bell shuro gave him was the proof that laios was still alive after all that happened, or that it's what pushed mithrun and kabru to go deeper into the dungeon instead of returning to the surface (which quite literally changed the entire chain of events afterwards).

yes, shuro decided to stop pursuing falin and report her condition to the governor so she could be stopped, even at the cost of her life. he gave up on her. but the same man also defied the canaries and fought for laios without knowing how messed up things had gotten because he chose to believe in laios above all else. and that, in my opinion, solidified just how important laios became to him- more than falin's, more than his own life, it's laios's he didn't give up on.

at the very end, when he met laios again after the latter defeated the winged lion, he gave him a hug filled with the pure, unrestrained joy of seeing his first and best friend on the island alive and well. hell, i mean, it's easy to forget that shuro didn't really have anyone close to him too- and laios might very well be the first person he was this disgustingly direct and truthful with since he was a child. and when he goes back home, there won't be anyone else like laios there; his home is still the same. it's him that changed. and later on when he will recall all those years he spent on the island, he will realize how surprising it is that all the crazy stuff he witnessed don't hold a candle to the impact those few people he befriended there had on him.

of course, laios didn't realize it until then- shuro's reaction was indeed the one that surprised him the most- but at that moment he could absolutely feel how foolish he was to be so sure he will be hated and rejected after everything they went through. it's so important that it was shuro who greeted him so affectionately, after we saw laios brooding over their fight so much: it's shuro's acceptance that he was longing for the most.

with all that being said, the one last thing that drives me crazy is that the bell laios was given to use when he needed assistance most was still with him even after turning back into his human form. that tiny item he was shown to be quite careless with and yet never let go of until he wanted to be completely alone, thinking he should run away from everyone he loved; but it was too late, his friend already heard his cry for help.

and they all answered.

#😃😭😭😭😭#dungeon meshi #laios touden #toshiro nakamoto

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kamiversee · 9 months ago

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➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 51 || The Resolve

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, angst if you squint, & heart-tingling fluff.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 4.5k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——THE TRUTH, CHOSO deserves to know the truth. After all he’s told you about himself the very least you could do is give him that. He’s earned it hasn’t he?

“Six,” You murmur honestly, your heart rate spiking as the word leaves your lips.

He repeats it as if he didn’t hear you, “Six?”

“Mhm, I’ve slept with six other guys since meeting you,” You explain in full, facing forward and avoiding looking at him.

Choso’s eyes are all over the side of your face and he takes a second, processing what you just said. “A-And that includes Geto… Sukuna, and the other guy you have feelings for, right?”

You nod and things get quiet for a second. The only thing you could hear was the pounding of your heart. He hates you, doesn’t he? He thinks you’re disgusting and is seconds away from kicking you out of his car right?

You should’ve told him earlier, maybe he could’ve helped you. It’s too late now though, the silence told you everything. You basically just told him you’re a wh-

The sound of Choso letting out a relieved sigh is heard, “Thank god.” He mutters, earning the turn of your head.

“T-Thank god?” You whisper, “You’re not… You don’t… Choso, I-“

“I mean, in total, six isn’t terrible is it?” He hums casually, meeting your widened eyes, “If three I already knew about, what’s three more?” He says with a shrug.

You blink, “Choso… You can’t be serious right now?”

He tilts his head innocently, “Why not? I mean we’ve known each other since when, like, September? It’s February now, baby. If you break it down, honestly, aside from me that’s one guy a month, no?”

The way he just responded as if it’s literally nothing makes you feel like a fool for worrying so much, “You’re serious…”

“Plus, we weren’t dating so,” He shrugs.

You sigh, “D-Do you want to know who-“

“Nope, absolutely not.” Choso cuts off, shaking his head instantly.

A slight chuckle leaves you due to his reaction, “Why not?”

“I don’t need any more images in my head.” He hums, “I know who two of those six are so, that’s enough info’.”

“Right…” You murmur, nodding slightly. That went entirely different than you were expecting, “Well uh, your next question, then?”

“That was the main one I think,” Choso sighs, “I can’t imagine there’s anything else I should know that could possibly change the trajectory of our… uhm, situationship?”

“You…” You blink, “You don’t want to know who the other guy I have feelings for is?”

A brow is risen and Choso doesn’t quite understand your offer, “Does it matter who he is?”

“I don’t know…” Your shoulders raise a little.

“I mean,” Choso moves his head and glances away in thought, “I can’t imagine it being someone I know since I only know a handful of people.”

“Uh, can I ask something then?”

“Sure, what is it?”

“Does the name…” You pause wondering if you should really ask your question but after a second or two, you get it out, “Does the name Gojo Satoru mean anything to you?”

“Gojo?” Choso echoes, giving you a skeptical look as he smiles a bit, “Gojo Satoru? Uh, didn’t Geto mention him earlier?”

You swallow, “Mhm…”

“Does the name mean anything to me? I dunno, I mean, I know him but-, wait…” His eyes narrow at you, “Baby…”

“Y-Yes?” You squeak out nervously.

Choso tilts his head a little, “Is he…?”

“Is he what?”

He pauses, then he swallows and meets your eyes with an intense gaze, “Do I wanna know?”

“Wanna know what?” You ask for clarification.

“Do I wanna know if that’s my competition?” Choso explains simply.

You’re still not used to such easy and quick answers to your questions, “I d-don’t know, do you?”

He stares for a minute before shaking his head, “Never mind then, I already told you, I don’t care who it is.”

“But-“

“What would knowing who it is change?”

Well, it’d give you an opening to explain the list… But then again, do you want to explain the list?

“Baby,” Choso sighs, “What I don’t know won’t hurt me, right?”

“It might…” You mumble.

His brows furrow, “How?”

That’s a damn good question. If you tell Choso that Gojo’s his competition then proceed to explain how you only slept with all those guys, including Choso himself, because of a list you were blackmailed into completing— how would he react?

No, really think about it. One, Choso might feel like a tool. Even though you know you talked to him that day in the hall because you were genuinely interested in him, he might never feel that way. To any sane human, that interaction will feel set up.

And two, somewhere deep down, you still want to protect Gojo. Why? Because you know there’s more to this blackmailing situation and you can’t tear down his character anymore without knowing the truth, that’s just not in your nature. And hey, you may regret this later when you do learn the truth but, it’s the thought that counts, right?

A man who’s obsessed with you and loves you like Gojo does wouldn’t blackmail you without good reason-

Okay, wait, what good reason is there to blackmail someone? And… What if boredom wasn’t the reason like he said it was… What if this was all done just so that Gojo could somehow trick you into running back to him?

Think about it. He claims the list was done out of boredom but later down the line tells you he loves you. What if he knew Choso hates liars, knew you’d tell Choso the truth after so long, and assumed you and Choso would part, thus leaving you to run back to him?

What if this is some kinda sick game and when the credits roll, the winning option is revealed to be Gojo Satoru? What if-

Choso says your name, “Are you okay?”

“H-Huh?” You breathe out, not knowing the facial expression you hold.

Your eyes were all wide and you looked like you’d seen a ghost.

“What’s wrong?” Choso asks carefully.

You shake your head and snap out of your mind, “Nothing, sorry.”

“After all I’ve told you, you still chose to lie to me?” He teases.

Your heart jumps a bit, “I-I didn’t mean to lie, I just, uhm… W-Well-“

He snorts and you freeze. When you look at Choso you see the way he’s smiling at you for the first time in a while. As quickly as your eyes meet, he turns away and brings his hand over his mouth.

“You… You were messing with me, weren’t you?” You question, narrowing your eyes at the man.

Choso lets out a chuckle, “Kinda. M’sorry, you just got all nervous and it was cute.”

“Well I thought I fucked up again Choso, that’s not funny,” You tell him, frowning.

He laughs, the sound more genuine than ever and making your heart simmer into a state of relaxation. A pout takes over your expression and you couldn’t believe that after all this he still found a way to tease you.

Playfully, you reach over and hit his arm, “Quit laughing, you scared me.”

Choso’s eyes get dramatically wide and he winces, bringing a hand to where you just hit him and sending you a look, “Oh wow, and after I tell you I was abused, you decide to hit me…” He points out, again making your heart sink.

You swallow hard and get nervous all over again, “Shit, s-sorry…”

Choso stares at you for a second and it’s slow how his smile returns, the sight making you realize he was messing with you again.

This time you frown and turn away from him, “Oh my god, stop doing that, we’re supposed to be serious right now.”

He starts snickering, “Baby, c’mon you know that was a little funny.”

“It wasn’t,” You utter seriously, staring out your window and watching water slide down the glass.

The sound of him scoffing is heard before he moves and a hand is placed on your arm. You turn and look down at his fingers wrapping around your arm and watch how he tries to tug at your arms to get you to unfold them.

“I’m sorry, princess,” Choso hums, “C’mere, I was jus’ teasin’ you.”

You pull away from him, “Making jokes about your childhood trauma isn’t funny, Cho.”

“I laughed,” He says, shrugging.

You roll your eyes at him, “Well I didn’t.”

“Yeah and that’s the problem,” He argues back, “I can joke about my trauma. It’s my trauma.”

You sigh, “But-“

“Baby.” He cuts off, tipping his head to the side.

“What?”

Choso’s eyes grow pleading, “Look at me please?”

With a huff, you steadily lift your gaze to his, “Okay, now what?”

“Come here,” He says.

Your brows furrow and you blink, “What do you mean come here?”

“Climb over to me, I wanna hug you.”

You stare at him, “Choso I’m not climbing over-“

“Then I’ll go out in the rain, walk over to your side, and drag you out of that seat.” He says while finally pulling your arms loose. Then, Choso reaches down and unbuckles your seatbelt, “Either you come over here or I come over there.”

You sigh and look at his area, “Choso, there’s not even enough space for me to-“

He moves back into his seat and immediately adjusts his chair to go back as far as it can, providing you more than enough space to be able to sit on the floor and in between his legs if you wanted to.

“I dunno’ why you’re acting like you haven’t done this before,” Choso scoffs, “C’mon, bring your ass over here,” He orders, patting his thigh, “I’m not gonna ask you again.”

You sigh heavily and start moving, shifting your knees into the seat and then carefully climb over the center console and to Choso’s side. His hand goes to your waist to support you as you move and you soon find yourself sliding into his lap.

Choso’s car was rather spacious so it’s not like it was difficult for you to end up in this position with him, hell, you’ve been here plenty of times before.

Once seated comfortably, Choso settles his hands on your waist, holding you lightly as his head tips up to you, “Hi princess.”

You try not to smile at him, “Hi Cho.”

“Hug me,” He directs.

You pout, “You could at least say please…”

“If I was asking, I would’ve. But,” He tilts his head at you, “I wasn’t asking you, I’m telling you.”

You simply stare into those brown eyes of his for a moment, noticing the dullness from earlier has lifted and his pupils are dilated. After which, you begin to lean in slowly and Choso grows impatient, quickly wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you to him.

The smile you tried to bite back breaks free onto your face as you move to drape your arms around his neck, burying your face into him and feeling as he squeezes onto you.

Choso lets out a sigh and you feel his entire body relax underneath you as he rests his head back and shuts his eyes, “Now, can we stay like this for a while?”

The crook of his neck smells so good and you were just melting into his hold, “Mhm.”

The two of you nearly molded into one another’s bodies after all the stress that’d been endured. This was so surreal to you— to go from arguing and worrying you may have ruined everything to hugging that same person without being confused in the slightest, god it lifted this weight off your chest.

And as said weight was lifted, another weight took place on your heart. This weight was strong, suffocating even. What did this weight symbolize? Was it trust? Peace? Or… was it love?

Did such a simple yet emotionally present conversation become the breaking point for you? Was this all you needed to acknowledge your feelings? When you realized you felt something for Gojo, it was that time in his car when music was playing and he just looked so damn perfect.

But… With Choso it was different. The physical sensation of falling in love with someone is different for every person. In this case, it’s like the heat emanating from his previously wet and cold body was wrapping around you and smothering you with comfort.

Breathing in his cologne brought nothing but the brightest memories to the forefront of your mind. Choso consumed you with nothing more than a simple hug and he had no idea.

He was completely unaware of how his embrace and faint but gentle thumb swirling over your back made you never want to leave this very moment. Choso didn’t know that you were currently recalling your first phone call with him, remembering how he’d put a smile on your face after Gojo had stripped it from you.

And he’s always been that for you, hasn’t he? In a world where Gojo puts you in a dark room, leaving you frightened, confused, and nervous, Choso is to you the same light he claims you are to him.

Forget Gojo’s claims that you and him are the same. No, you’ve found the person in whom your similarities lay in and that person is none other than Choso Kamo, a man whose only fault with you was falling for you.

And even then, you don’t blame him for doing so because you did too. Your heart is simply swelling right now and you unconsciously started clinging onto his body tighter.

The way, “Choso,” Slips past your lips before you even realize is simply tantalizing to the man beneath you.

He feels as your breath hits the skin of his neck, your warmth giving him chills and making him swallow, “Yes, princess?” He replies.

“I’m sorry,” You apologize sincerely.

He sighs, “Told’ you to stop doing that.” Choso reminds you. Then, his hand slips to caress along your spine, “But, what are you sorry for, baby?”

You weren’t sure just yet. Everything? Nothing? Why is it that you have to apologize for a situation that was never your fault to begin with?

“Earlier,” You come up with, “I think I uh… I should’ve handled things differently.”

He nods a little, trying to ignore the ticklish feeling of your breath against his skin, “Oh, thank you for that. I’m sorry too.”

“Why? You didn’t do anything wrong,” You hum, smiling a little.

“Called’ you dense,” Choso recalls and you feel how his body shifts a little, “Yelled at you, caused a scene, y’know, the list kinda’ goes on, babe.”

“Choso, it-,” You pause for a second. Then, you start moving, your hands slipping down to his chest as you push yourself up to sit on his lap comfortably instead of laying on him, “What?”

He raises a brow, “Hm? What? Did I say something wrong?”

“You called me babe.” You point out, grinning.

He chuckles, “It’s no different from baby is it?”

“It is.” You say.

Choso nods, noting that in his head before asking, “Which do you like more?”

“Doesn’t matter, I like anything you call me,” You tell him, smiling a little.

Choso nods slowly and bites back the mischievous smirk that threatened to show, “Anything?”

“Mhm,” You hum with a slight shrug.

“I’ll…” His words fade for a second and he’s so deep in his head as he processes what you just told him, “Yeahh, I’ll keep that in mind.”

You tip your head to the side, “Why’d you say it like that?”

“No reason, princess, ignore me,” Choso dismisses, “Anyways, I was serious about my apology.”

You sigh and move your hand to caress the side of his face, “Right, well, I forgive you, Cho.”

“You’re supposed to say I didn’t do anything wrong,” He jokes, leaning into your touch and pushing his lower lip out to pout.

A scoff leaves you and you slip your fingers down to his jaw before grabbing ahold of his chin, “Mmmh… You yelled at me, I didn’t like that.”

“Your face said otherwise.” Choso points out, glancing off to the side.

“Hm?” Your brows knit together.

“For a second I thought you were turned on,” He says, so clearly joking with you.

You snort, “If I was turned on, it’s not because you were yelling at me.”

“Yeah?” The way the corner of his lips quips up into a sly smirk makes you shift in his lap a little, “Then what was it, baby? I knew there was somethin’.”

“When you were arguing with Suguru,” You recall simply, sliding your thumb up to trace Choso’s lower lip, “I don’t know why but I thought it was hot.”

He raises a brow, “Oh yeah?”

You just barely meet Choso’s eyes and you could feel yourself folding. Good god, why is this man so damn sexy?

“Mhm.” You hum timidly.

He pushes his lips out a little and kisses the tip of your thumb, “Words baby.”

“Yeah,” You utter, your voice almost breathy.

“Atta’ girl,” Choso praises and you swear you should not be getting turned on right now. “Anywho, before you get yourself too worked up, I did want to ask you something else.”

You shake away your incoming horny thoughts and return to seriousness, “Okay… What is it?”

His gaze drops down to your torso and his eyes narrow, “Well, I wanted to ask about you and uh… You and Sukuna.”

For some reason, unlike earlier you’re not as nervous, “Okay…”

Choso’s index finger and his thumb are toying with the fabric of your top as the rest of his fingers rest on your hips, “Did you… Did you enjoy your time with him?” He asks carefully.

Your heart jumps, “Uh, I-“

“You promised to answer honestly,” Choso reminds you, lifting his gaze to yours once more, “I won't ask anything I don’t want the answer to.”

“Alright, well,” You look off to the side, “He was sweet to me after we…”

“After you had sex?” Choso fills in.

You nod, “Mhm. He was surprisingly good with aftercare. A-And I think… I think because of that, yes, I did enjoy my time with him.”

He gazes at you for a while without saying anything and you continue to keep your eyes elsewhere. Choso thinks back and he genuinely doesn’t remember Sukuna being like that. Before his last known girlfriend, after he’d have sex with whichever girl he was with, he’d kick most of them out.

But, there were a few he was different with. Those few Choso got to meet. The most memorable was the last known one, the same one Sukuna knocked out. Choso remembers her to be rather rude to him, calling him gross or disturbing whenever she and him crossed paths but, he recalls the woman having Sukuna wrapped around her finger.

Of course, due to Choso’s experience with Sukuna, he didn’t care to point this out to his older brother— if that woman was playing him, he deserved it.

Even so, it makes Choso wonder what about you made Sukuna treat you so nicely. Hell, it actually worried Choso because since the two attend the same university, Choso knows what it’s like to have his love interest taken from him by his older brother.

“More than…” Choso’s voice is soft, scared even, “More than with me?” He blurts out without thinking.

Your eyes snap onto his and your brows furrow, face shifting into something bothered, “What? Hell no.”

Choso releases a shaky breath and nods, “Oh, okay good.”

You tilt your head, “Choso are you worried I may feel something for him?”

“N-No, I know you said you don’t and I believe you.” Choso stammers, “I-It’s just-“

“He’s repulsive,” You snap, “After everything you’ve told me about him, I could never see that man in the same light.”

“Oh.” He chirps.

“Now, it does confuse me why I experienced something different but,” You shrug, “I don’t care to find out.”

Choso’s eyebrows raise and he stops toying with your shirt, “Really? Why’s that?”

“Because I’m not interested in him.” You say.

Choso smiles a little, “Good…” All his worry fades and he returns to his playfulness, “So uh, who are you interested in, then?”

“You, obviously.” You tell him with a roll of your eyes.

“Is it obvious?” Choso questions.

You frown, “I thought so…”

“Mmmh, I dunno’ baby…” He starts looking away with a skeptical expression.

“I’ve said it before but, I do want you Choso.” You remind the man.

His eyes shoot back over to yours, “Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Have me, then,” Choso says eagerly.

What surprises him the most is your response to that this time around, “Can I?” You ask.

He bats his eyelashes at you, “O-Of course.” The words pour out of his mouth and his heart skips a beat.

“You sure?” You question teasingly with an innocent tilt of your head.

“Fuckin’ positive,” Choso breathes, smiling, “Have all of me, princess.”

He’s so clearly happy about this and that makes you just as happy, “Okay…”

“Okay?” There’s a hint of need in his voice, “What does that mean?”

You give a sheepish shrug, “I don’t know…”

“Baby I can’t do I don’t know.”

“Okay then,” You slide your hands down and rest them on his chest, “Let’s make it official, Choso.”

“M-Make us official?” He asks for clarification.

“Mhm.” You hum.

“So,” He can hardly process what’s happening, the entire conversation feeling like a dream, “You wanna be my girlfriend?”

A pretty smile spreads across your face, “Yes, Choso.”

“Okay,” He whispers, nodding, “O-Okay, I can work with that.”

“Work with that?” Your brows knit, “Cho, what're you talking about-“

“Let’s go on a date,” He offers, “Wait-, no. Can I take you out on a date?”

You blink, “We’ve been on dates already-“

“A real one.” Choso urges. Oh he’s been planning this for months now, hasn’t he?

You’re smiling from ear to ear, “A real date?”

“Yes.” Choso says, “We both dress up all nice, go out to eat or somethin’, y’know, do this properly.”

“Okay.” You murmur.

His hands slide up to your waist and he squeezes a little, “Yes or no baby?”

“Yes,” You start smiling and your heart has never felt this full before, “Yes you can take me out on a date.”

“Thank you,” He sighs, suddenly tugging your body closer to his, “This way I’ll never have a reason to feel insecure.”

Your arms go up and back around his neck, “Yeah?” You whisper.

Choso’s voice lowers and his gaze is so intimate with you, “Mhm, I think that’ll solve every problem we’ve had so far.”

You nod, “I think so too.”

Both of your faces near one another and you’ve never in your life felt more content with a person before. Is this what you’ve been craving for months? Is this freedom? Peace? Bliss?

To have such a tough conversation with your heart spiking multiple times, and feeling worried about certain reactions, all to result in feeling more comfortable in a person is something you never expected. Do you deserve this? Such happiness?

Well, why wouldn’t you? What have you done to yourself to not deserve the man looking at you so lovingly right now?

Did you forget?

The list is over. You’re free to experience this without worrying about hurting anyone. You are finally allowed to love with all your heart instead of only half.

Gojo was right about one thing, he could never give you things Choso can because, at the end of the day, Choso will explain everything to you because he knows what it’s like to be confused and hurt. Choso understands you, he actually loves you.

As for that stupidly beautiful white-haired man? You’re not sure what to think of him anymore but, you think you’re done thinking about him.

Sure, you still have a journal to burn with him but, can’t you indulge yourself in the joy that is loving someone wholeheartedly? Is that not what you deserve after everything you’ve been through?

Your head tilts as your gaze sinks to Choso’s lips. Does this man even realize how wonderful he is to you? Does he know that he’s your savior? Is he aware of how much you adore him? How thankful you are to him?

“Choso,” You utter so carefully, your face nearing his.

“Yes?” He replies, his eyes dropping to your lips as they near him.

“Thank you,” You suddenly say.

He smiles a little, “For what?”

“Everything,” Your answer is vague at first but you’re quick to explain a bit more, “For loving me the way you do, being so open to me, telling me everything even though it was hard for you…”

“Baby that’s not something you have to thank me for,” He hums, letting out an amused scoff, “That’s the bare minimum of what I should be doing for you.”

Something sheer glosses over your eyes but you ignore it, smiling at his words, “But still,” Your voice is light and tainted with emotion, “Thank you for waiting for me.”

“If my reward for waiting is you,” He smiles, “I told you, I’d wait lifetimes.”

“Choso,” You breathe out, holding onto him so very tightly before the words slide out of your mouth, “I love you.”

His chest is against yours so you can feel the way his heart throbs. His breathing picks up in an instant, hitching for only a moment as your words caress his ears so beautifully.

“Y-You…” Choso’s at a loss for words. He’s dreaming, right? “You what?” He asks, his voice shaky as his eyes land on yours.

The sight of joyful and overwhelmed tears in your eyes lets him know just how real this is. Then, you lean in and just barely press your lips into his before repeating yourself, “I love you, Choso.”

Those arms around your waist squeeze you tighter and you don’t miss the way he trembles a bit, his own eyes glossing over, “I love you too, princess.”

Another sweet, soft, and lightweight kiss is shared between you two but as you pull away and your eyes meet all over again, Choso sees the way your pupils have expanded. He wonders how long they’ve been that way, having only seen it at such a size once before.

His brows tense and Choso pulls you to him again, muttering the words into your mouth, “I love you so much.”

You smile briefly against the connection before mumbling right back, “I love you too Cho.”

Everything you could’ve ever asked for was within your grasp now. Peace, freedom, happiness, certainty, hope, love— all of which was felt in the midst of you and Choso kissing so passionately.

This right here… This is what one would describe as a healthy relationship.

Arguments and drama occur but the end result should always be this; peace and understanding.

That’s what he is to you. Choso is your peace, your understanding, and the man you love all in one.

You’ve finally ended the war in your heart. Should someone ever ask you who ended that battle, who healed the plague on you, your answer would remain forever;

Choso Kamo.

GOJO SATORU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

GETO SUGURU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢

KAMO CHOSO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢 / 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ITADORI SUKUNA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮???

NANAMI KENTO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙙

mlist || previous chapt || next chpt

tags;

@blognicole @suguruologist @luqueam @ivoryviness @sinaxalui @rxnnie18 @carlacujo @gods-landing @bitchysouljellyfish @miles4hour @sinaxalui @annananamin @heart-snow @kiyomizzx @hanuh @acehyacinth @mccookiemonster @tojis-ball-sack @cartwheel6869 @mariluvsusstuff @addie1010 @slammynics @actualz0mbie @hisbitchhh @kay-xle @cunttee3 @voids-universe @raininglovelyfire @itsbokutosjuicyass @peaceoutbritta @barbielani @gennaray @r3inae @kfmcykdy @camiihutt @tokina @curtin81937 @hopefullydecent @nameless-shade @ureuphoriasworld @forgetfulmachine @legbouk @lilliaannn @clementineee0-0 @divinelseraph @didibxx

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missnxthingg · 3 months ago

Text

𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬, 𝑭𝑹𝑶𝑴 𝑨𝑳𝑳 𝑭𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑪𝑶𝑹𝑵𝑬𝑹𝑺 𝑶𝑭 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑳𝑫 . (𝑺𝑴𝑨𝑼 𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑰𝑶𝑵) - 𝐹𝑂𝑈𝑅 (𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑡𝑤𝑜)

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 - Once again, we have two parts! Hope you like this one as well and don't forget to go ready the first one ahead of this 🧡

original chapter | series masterlist | main masterlist | taglist | pt 1

yourusername

Red Bull Ring

yourusername Gooooood morning, Austria! I'll be pretending this is a sea of papaya, btw. Wish this bad boy good luck today 🧡

tagged: mclaren, landonorris

landonorris ***good boy! 😉

↪yourusername You don't fool anyone, babe ↪username1 preach, y/n

username2 Lando P1 at Red Bull's home. I'm so ready!

username3 Papaya dom coming!

mclaren Everybody is a papaya fan! 🧡

liked by the author

f1news

f1news It's DNF for Norris in Austria! The McLaren driver crashed with the owner of the house, Max Verstappen, in the Red Bull Ring and was taken out of the race. The RBR driver lost his leadership, but finished P5.

username1 Max Verstappen plays it DIRTY!

username2 I feel so so sorry for Lando. He didn't deserve this 😢

username3 i hope y/n takes good care of our boy

yourusername added to their stories

Caption: A very much needed home time for Mr Norris

landonorris

Silverstone

landonorris Back to Silvo with some family time ❤

tagged: adam_norris_pure_electric, yourusername

yourusername P1 in Ollie's heart 🧡

↪landonorris My love ❤

username1 Olivia content!!!!

↪username2 finally 😫 i missed them so much

username3 i just know lando spent the entire week with ollie bf silverstone

username4 we're all ready for your revenge arch 😈

landonorris

landonorris Silverstone I love you, so many incredible fans out there ❤️ Congrats on the win @.lewishamilton, we’ll review, do better and come get you next time

username1 Just the fact that Olivia dressed as Lando for Silverstone makes me so so happy!

↪username2 she's his biggest fan indeed! ↪username3 Olivia future WDC!

yourusername Always good to see you step on the podium at home 🧡 I'm so proud

↪username3 I love that no matter the result, Y/N is always there to support Lando ↪username4 She's his true biggest fan

yourusername

Mallorca, Spain

yourusername Spain, you are a dream! 🤍 Best summer break ever

tagged: landonorris

username1 THEY WENT ON A HOLIDAY TOGETHER?

username2 i'm considering this a hard launch, btw

↪username3 you always make it weird for them 🙄 clearly they are just best friends having fun together ↪username4 for real! people forget that he's literally her daughter's godfather ↪username5 doesn't mean they can't become a couple eventually btw

username6 good to see that lando is spending time with y/n and olivia ❤ he deserved some family time to recharge

oscarpiastri Enjoy summer break, guys!

↪yourusername Thanks, Osc! Love you ❤ Send love to Lily, btw

maxfewtrell Bring me next time

↪landonorris It's family only ↪yourusername Max is family, idiot

landonorris My girls ❤

↪yourusername Our boy ❤ ↪username7 Stooooop, I love you guys so much ↪username8 The cutest duo ever

landonorris

Mallorca, Spain

landonorris aug 24. sun & things ☀️ family, forever

tagged: yourusername

yourusername Best summer ever ❤ I love you my babies

username1 Stoooop they are the cutest little family, omg!

username2 Lando applying sunscreen to Ollie's face and they posing as a family is everything to me 😭

maxfewtrell That's what i'm talking about, mates ❤

yourusername Ollie says: "Hi, uncle Max. Come have dinner with us" maxfewtrell How can I deny this proposal?

username3 now can we please have a hard launch???

username4 uhmm don't think they are really together, though. lando has taken them on vacations before, it's not like something different happened username5 idk dude, they do seem a little closer after his win in miami and people saw them leaving the party together username6 you keep assuming things and it's very annoying

username7 I'm so ready for the next chapter of this story

⋘ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 // 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 ⋙

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reds-skull · 2 months ago

Text

The frames of the video from the comic in the previous post. I experimented a lot with this, it was really fun to work with this chunky brush I found. Also the first time I draw the Reaper of Destruction as it was before Lumity!

More comments under the cut+a frame I ended up scrapping!

I'll go by order of appearance, because it's basically a chronological retelling of the events of part 1.

So the first frame is the least fancy because it was the first and I didn't nail down a style for this yet lol. It shows Ghost and Soap's first true meeting, in chapter 1, where Ghost helps Soap when he gets impaled by a rebar.

The second frame jumps to chapter 8, when Ghost first put Soap in Limbo. The triangle around them was a later addition, taken from the next frame. I love this scene, it's so fun to see it drawn out now :)

The third frame was the most important one to nail the style. I painted a whole frame, only to come back to it the next day and restart from almost 0.

This is the original third frame

They both show the same event - chapter 21, the second time Soap is thrown into Limbo. The difference is, one shows a more literal image of what happened, and the other is more symbolic.

And by now I think you know how much I love symbolism lol

What also bothered me with the scraped painting is that the composition isn't central, and the entire pose, while more dynamic, isn't fitting the mural feel the rest has.

There's an even earlier version of the scrapped painting, with Soap's face, but nowhere else there are faces in these series, so I went wild with it and covered it with flames. He had them behind him already, as the description of this scene in the fic says Soap had a helo of fire behind him.

(also hated how Limbo's victims looked in the scrapped version like... ew lol)

There wasn't a real reason to add the circles around Soap. I just wanted to lean more heavily into the mural style. But I took that circle motif to the end, after that, and added it to Ghost as well, hence the triangle.

Soap has one skeletal hand, and one palm. That one is on purpose, to show he's hanging in between life and death.

The fourth frame is pretty self-explanatory, it shows the part in chapter 21 where Soap gets the dark marks on his forearm. If the colors look weird in that one, it's because I messed with them so much I couldn't tell if they look good anymore on not

The fifth frame shows another favorite moment of mine, the moment Ghost gets his marks, the white tear tracks, when he finally notices Soap fighting in the void.

The sixth frame is my favorite of the bunch. Soap and Ghost, the triangle and circle combined. The moment they killed Graves, Ghost in full control of his subjects, Soap with his sword of white fire and army of burning moths. They look so scary in this one I love them

The seventh frame shows Void and Destruction. Void was straight forward, I've drawn it a few times before, but I had to make a more detailed design for Destruction, and I only had the very first sketches I made for Revenant AU to go off of, as well as Lumity's design. Idk why I designed Lumity before Destruction, but that's how it is. I wanted Destruction melting, like it can't handle its own heat.

The eighth frame is of Void and Destruction combining. In the fic they had in-between states, it didn't look like this, but for the sake of the video I thought it'd be nicer to have a clear frame of them combining.

The ninth and last frame is of our beloved Lumity. Their design is a little more detailed than the drawing I made a while back. This frame is also the only one that interacts with the foreground, aka Makarov. I think he was jump-scared, don't know how much that comes across.

Damn I had a lot to write. Well, when given the opportunity to ramble...

#call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #cod ghost #cod soap #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #call of duty modern warfare #revenant au #cod fanart #...fanart of my own au for the most part but oh well #ty for reading whoever did <3

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dreamwritesimagines · 8 months ago

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The Eye of the Hurricane [17] - Disagreements

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: Petty fights can start out of nowhere.

Word Count: 2800

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, stabbing, death, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

Waking up and not finding Bucky in bed next to you wasn’t unfamiliar to you.

He always woke up before you, but this was the first time you were hearing a second, very familiar voice booming through the house and you sat up in bed, rubbing your eyes.

What on earth was your father doing in your apartment this early on in the morning?

You pushed the covers off of you and looked around the room for Alpine but she wasn’t there either. Grabbing the first thing you found -which turned out to be one of Bucky’s crisp white button up shirts- you pulled it over your tank top and shorts, then went downstairs, following the voices.

“If this has been your plan all along,” your father’s stern voice reached your ear from Bucky’s office, “I swear to God—”

“I don’t have any plans,” Bucky’s much calmer voice replied and you pulled your brows together, approaching the doorframe but still shielding yourself from their gaze. Alpine meowed when she saw you, running to you but neither of them seemed to notice it.

“No?” your father asked. “So this is not some sort of elaborate plot to take over my territory?”

“Not at all.”

“Then why was she having a briefing with Rogers?”

“Because I don’t think my wife should be kept out of the business entirely,” Bucky said as you bent down to scratch at Alpine’s head before straightening your back again. “It’s the new generation, we do things differently now.”

Your father let out a furious breath.

“Listen,” he said. “I don’t care what you do with your own business, but if you’re putting ideas into my daughter’s head—”

“Arthur, she’s smart as fuck, you do realize that?” Bucky snapped, making you smirk. “There’s no idea I can put into her head that she hasn’t thought about to begin with.”

“Not to mention,” you said and stepped into the office, making both of them turn to look at you. “She has a phone. So if you wanted to see me, you could just let me know.”

Your father gritted his teeth and stole a look at Bucky. “Give us a minute.”

If it were anyone else, you were sure they would be hurrying off to the door because you had seen your father intimidate countless men throughout your life, but Bucky didn’t seem intimidated in the slightest as he leaned back to his desk.

“This is my house,” he replied, making your father blink a couple of times.

“And I’d like a moment alone with my daughter.”

Bucky turned to look at you as if silently asking if you wanted him to leave and you shook your head, then crossed your arms.

“Anything you want to say, you can say it in front of my husband,” you told him, making Bucky grin proudly. “So?”

Your father’s glare at you was enough to make the sudden chill of nervousness shoot through you, but you didn’t let it show on your face as he shook his head.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Nothing,” you said. “I literally woke up to you guys’ yelling to be honest—”

“Having a meeting with Rogers,” he cut you off impatiently as if he didn’t have the time for your jokes. “What is that about?”

You let a smirk pull your lips.

“Did Ian come and cry to you about it?” you asked. “Honestly.”

“He did let me know, yes,” he said. “As he was supposed to. Seeing that you weren’t planning on telling me about it, I’m glad he did.”

“You have your messenger boy there already,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “It’s clear you don’t need me to tell you anything.”

He took a deep breath like he was trying his hardest to stay calm and you stole a look at Bucky who gave you an assuring smile, watching you two.

“Sweetheart,” he said, the slight condescending tone in his voice making you clench your jaw. “I know that you want to be a part of the business, and Bucky is for some reason fueling this nonsense, but—”

“He’s not fueling anything,” you growled. “I happen to have my own mind, unlike what you seem to think.”

“Y/N—”

“I mean who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?”

“Okay!” Bucky cut you two off before your father could answer. “Can I suggest we all calm down before anyone says anything they might regret?”

Both you and your father looked at him before turning to glare at each other again and your father pursed his lips, heaving a sigh.

“I’m not trying to patronize you,” he said and you raised your brows.

“Might be too late for that.”

“But I need you to be safe,” he said, making Bucky frown for the first time. “And becoming a part of the business…”

“To repeat, I can make my own decisions.”

“I’m not putting her in danger, Arthur,” Bucky said, his voice calm despite the stern expression on his face. “You know I would never.”

“Right,” your father scoffed and gave you a warning look. “Y/N, I mean it. What you’re trying to do—”

“What makes you think I’m trying to do anything?”

“Because I wrote the playbook you’re following,” your father replied. “I taught you every single trick, and now you’re going to turn around and treat me like I’m clueless?”

You clicked your tongue, tilting your head.

“I’m not doing anything that you haven’t been doing with me for years now,” you said. “You pushed me out of the picture, you’ve been treating me with kid gloves and you have the audacity to give me that speech right now?”

He ran a hand over his face.

“I’m only doing what your mother would like, for you.”

You let out a breath, crossing your arms over your chest.

“No,” you said. “You’re doing what you would like, for me. And I’m done letting you.”

You could see a muscle in his jaw ticking as he glared at you for a couple of seconds, then took a deep breath.

“We will talk later when you’re calmer,” he said and stormed out of the office before you heard the front door slam. You rolled your eyes and turned to Bucky who gave you a tight-lipped smile.

“Good morning,” he said. “Are you okay?”

“Are you?” you asked back and Bucky waved a hand in the air.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Hungry though. Breakfast?”

You huffed out a laugh and nodded your head.

“Yes please,” you said. “Jesus, what a morning.”

It wasn’t that you kept the fact that you were meeting Ethan this afternoon a secret, it was just that you didn’t think Bucky needed to know about it. This marriage was fake yes, and it wasn’t like you were having a secret affair meeting, you two were just friends and it was a normal gather up with your friend.

Or at least, that’s what you had been trying to convince yourself of the whole morning.

You drummed your fingernails on the table and reached out to grab your cup to take a sip of your latte, but lowered it when the wind bells by the door chimed and your gaze fell on Ethan. He looked around the café, then gave you a small smile and approached you as you stood up.

“Hey,” he said, giving you a curt hug and you smiled as he pulled back, then sat down again.

“Hi,” you said. “It’s good to see you.”

“Good to see you two,” he said as he sat down and ordered a coffee. “How have you been?”

“Good,” you said. “You?”

“Busy a bit. You look—” he paused for a moment when his eyes fell upon your wedding ring. “Married.”

You let out a nervous laugh and heaved a sigh.

“Mm hm.”

He pursed his lips together and took a deep breath.

“I owe you an apology,” he said, making you shake your head.

“Ethan…”

“I do,” he said. “I’m—It was stupid to say all that shit. Trust me, I wanted to text and apologize so many times, I just didn’t think you wanted to hear my voice.”

You rolled your eyes at him in a lighthearted manner.

“Ethan, you happen to be the only person in my life who’s not…” you trailed off and he gave you a small smile.

“Who’s not following the same career path?”

You clicked your tongue. “That’s one way to put it,” you said, making him chuckle. “So yeah, I reacted badly as well. I was very tense when we had that conversation.”

He offered his hand. “Truce then?”

You scoffed a laugh, then reached out to shake his hand.

“Everyone knows I’m a big fan of truce,” you said and he grinned, then thanked the waitress when she brought his coffee.

“So,” he said after taking a sip of his coffee. “How is it then? Do guns go off when you and Barnes enter the building or…?”

You narrowed your eyes at him playfully. “Ethan.”

“Do you guys do that Mr. and Mrs. Smith shit?”

“Wrong movie reference.”

He held up his hands, gesturing surrender.

“Does he still dislike me?”

The correct and honest answer would be that Bucky didn’t even think about Ethan, at least in your opinion. Not only did he have bigger problems what with HYDRA and their attacks in the city, his dynamic with the other bosses were bound to get tense with you officially becoming a part of the business.

So, he was probably too busy to sit around and think about Ethan.

“Nah I don’t think so,” you managed to say, leaning back. “That night at the club, I know he was an asshole but we were…things were weird between us then.”

“I’d say so,” he said, and licked his lips. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” you said. “As long as I can answer it hypothetically, that is.”

“Is it real?”

That managed to make you pull back slightly and you blinked a couple of times before heaving a sigh.

“I don’t understand what you—”

“Because I’d like to think that we had something, back at college,” he said, making your brows furrow. “And that night at the club, you weren’t looking at him like…I could’ve sworn you hated him, Y/N.”

“Like I said, things were weird between us then,” you muttered, turning the coffee cup in this saucer and he shook his head.

“And it changed that fast?” he asked. “Listen, I’m going to shut up if you don’t want me to talk about this, but if it’s not real—”

“If it’s not real, you’ll save me?” you asked with a scoff. “I’m not some princess in a castle Ethan.”

“Trust me, I’m well aware.”

“Hypothetically, even if it weren’t—”

“Hypothetically,” he cut you off. “I’d happily wait for your divorce.”

That made you stop talking as your eyes snapped up to his and you gawked at him in a dumbfounded silence.

Ah.

Alright, this was…

The idea was quite lovely, to be honest. As you had told Becca, being with Ethan would be so simple, he was a civilian so there would be no ulterior motives or plotting or any of the tension you knew each and every couple in business had. Not only that, but Bucky had broken your heart so terribly all those years ago and you were sure that if you decided to see or treat this marriage like a real marriage, he would do it again.

Unlike Ethan.

Dear God, it would be so peaceful.

But you knew you couldn’t deal with whatever this was when you were going for your father’s crown. This right here was a distraction, and you couldn’t entertain the idea of a distraction.

You clicked your tongue and sat up straighter, checking the time.

“Sorry, I just remembered I had this thing,” you muttered, desperate to get away and he stood up as you did.

“Y/N,” he said apologetically. “I’m sorry if that sounded—”

“No no,” you said with a shake of your head. “I don’t…I get what you mean, I really do. And as much as I know you mean well, saying this now is very disrespectful to Bucky so I’d rather if we didn’t speak about this again.”

He pursed his lips and nodded his head.

“Understood,” he said. “I won’t, I promise.”

“I’ll see you later, okay?” you asked and gave him a short hug, then walked out of the café, your heart beating fast.

“What the fuck was that?” you muttered to yourself as you got into your car and let out a breath, then started driving.

As you walked into the Barnes skyscraper, you were still trying to comprehend just why the hell, out of all things to say to Ethan, you had chosen ‘disrespect to Bucky’ as your answer. What Ethan had said wasn’t even so bad, you had been reminding Bucky that you two would eventually get a divorce and even talk about all the things you’d do on your second wedding and marriage to someone else, but when Ethan so much as mentioned waiting for your divorce, you had decided to draw the line?

This was rather absurd.

You rolled your shoulders back as someone escorted you to the elevator and pressed the button for you and you checked your reflection in the mirror until you got to the top floor and the doors opened.

“I can find my way, thank you,” you said told the bodyguard and walked out of the elevator to make your way to Bucky’s office.

“Is he in?” you asked the receptionist who stood up when she saw you.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Great, thank you,” you said and knocked on the door, then opened it to step inside. Bucky was sitting behind his desk, his jaw clenched and his eyes fixed on the computer screen, but he turned his head when he saw you and raised his brows.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” you said and approached the couch to fling yourself on it, crossing your legs. “So my father didn’t call me after this morning, has George called you?”

“No.”

The curt answer made you tilt your head and you frowned at him.

“Have you heard from anyone else?” you asked. “Because I feel like—”

“How was lunch with Ethan?”

That made you stop talking and you raised your brows, your stomach doing a flip.

“Are you having me followed?” you asked sharply through your teeth and he let out a bitter chuckle.

“I don’t need to have you followed,” he said. “You met the guy in my territory in case you forgot.”

You licked your lips, crossing your arms defiantly.

“So what, am I supposed to report back to you every single thing I do now?”

“I think I’d like to know if you’re meeting your ex -who by the way, still wants to fuck you- like a week after our wedding, yeah,” he shot back, making your jaw drop.

“Easy there, cowboy.”

“Y/N we had an agreement—”

“Does it look like I’m sleeping with him from where you’re sitting?” you asked. “I know the agreement. You don’t sleep with anyone else and neither do I, until our divorce.”

“Then?”

“Then I can have lunch with whoever I want.”

“To repeat, he wants to—”

“It was a friendly lunch and he just apologized for reacted badly when I told him we would be getting married,” you defended yourself hurriedly, knowingly leaving out the part Ethan said about your potential divorce and Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Oh I wonder why he reacted badly to us getting married,” he said, sarcasm dripping from every word. “What could it be? Any ideas?”

God damn it.

“This is not even a real marriage,” you hissed as you leaned in, careful not to speak too loud in case anyone outside could hear. “Or did you forget about that part?”

“Did you forget about the part we’re supposed to act madly in love?” he asked back, his voice calm unlike yours and even though he did have a point, the petulant part of you refused to acknowledge it, so you did the first thing you thought of and got up from the couch.

“I’m done talking about this.”

“Y/N.”

“I’m done I said!” you snapped over your shoulder and walked out of the office without looking back, making your way to the elevator. Your heart was beating in your ears and you grabbed your phone, and touched Becca’s name as the doors closed, the elevator moving.

“Hey,” Becca’s voice reached you. “What’s up?”

“I snapped at Ethan for disrespecting Bucky and then snapped at Bucky within the same hour,” you said and she paused for a moment, then hummed.

“I’m getting the wine ready,” she said. “Grab some sushi on your way here?”

“You got it,” you said and hung up the phone, then leaned your head back to the elevator wall. “What the actual fuck am I doing?”

Chapter 18

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes #mob!bucky #mob!bucky x reader #mob! bucky #mafia!bucky barnes x reader #mafia!bucky barnes #mafia!bucky #mafia bucky barnes #mafia bucky x reader #mob bucky barnes x reader #mob bucky barnes #mob bucky x reader #mob bucky #mob boss!bucky #mob boss bucky barnes #mob au #mob!au

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thisblogisaboutabook · 10 months ago

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Rainy Season - Part 5

I Want Crazy

Azriel Eris x Reader

After a promotion to an emissary position by a meddling Tarquin, Y/N and Eris get much, much closer.

A/n: There will likely only be a couple more chapters of this fic. For those of you concerned by the previous chapter, please continue to trust the process. Our girl is intelligent.

Part 4 Part 6

Warnings: Language, brief mention of fertility struggles

Our first date, the seasons changed. It got washed away in a summer rain

He wasn’t what I expected, Eris Vanserra. Not that I ever fathomed what to expect or even considered it. In fact there was only a very short list of things I knew prior to the day we met:

-He was a High Lord.

-He’d been a secretive ally of the Night Court prior to his father’s demise.

-Azriel fucking hated him.

And after that day I knew everything I needed to:

-He was warm beyond the fire in his veins

-He was a just ruler

-He had a dry wit that sat well with my soul.

-I wanted to see him again.

After dancing that night, we ran back to Tarquin’s palace in the rain. It was the first time I’d been unable to contain my joy in far too long. I laughed, and skipped, and spun in circles the whole way back. Eris grumbled the entire way but I could see the amusement lit in his eyes. The next morning he met me for breakfast and found me again before he left for the Autumn Court.

He began finding reasons to visit the Summer Court more frequently and sought me out every time. It was no time before Eris became a close friend.

Tarquin - ever the cheeky, wonderful bastard - only gave me knowing smiles when he’d catch us walking the palace grounds. According to Cresseida, The High Lord of the Summer Court was quite the romantic and had a knack for playing matchmaker. I was inclined to agree considering that after a month of spotting Eris and I around the grounds, Tarquin made a proposition to me. I could still teach my classes but he needed a temporary emissary to the Autumn court as they negotiated border, trade, and tariff agreements. Given my recent closeness with the High Lord of Autumn and overall wonderful (debatable) disposition, he found me to be the perfect candidate. With that, I found myself on official court business in the Autumn Court.

Who cares if you’re all I think about?

I was nervous on the first visit to Autumn. I knew things were different under Eris’ reign but the stories of Beron’s cruelty within his own keep were enough to warrant a bit of caution.

My worries were quickly cast aside when Eris personally escorted me from the border and to his keep. The Autumn Court was stunning. The leaves on the trees were brighter than I’d ever seen. The hues ranging from gold to red absolutely stunning. I’d love to have Feyre one day paint it for me.

Smells of roasting chestnuts, hickory smoke, crisp leaves, apple cider, and autumn air filled my nose. On the way, Eris stopped by a small farm where the owner allowed us to pick what Eris called the finest Honeycrisp apples in all of Prythian. I’d never had that variety before and though I had nothing to compare them against, the apples had the perfect crunch and just the right ratio of tart and sweet. He paid the farmer handsomely for a bucket of them and several pie pumpkins for his kitchens.

The Autumn Keep was far from the drab stone castle that I’d pictured. Eris clearly went to great strides to ensure the ghost of Beron Vanserra had no hold here. The grand rooms were filled with maple accents, rugs and tapestries with hues greens, golds, oranges and reds. Fires roared in massive fireplaces and autumnal spices filled the air.

And despite the beauty of the keep. I couldn’t seem to keep my eyes off of the tall, handsome redhead walking alongside me.

Once I was settled for the stay, we did meet to discuss political matters which took countless hours, but I was rather impressed with the ease of our negotiations. He and Tarquin had similar visions for the economic future within their courts.

We enjoyed dinner together, indulged in autumnal wines, including a hot mulled wine that flushed my cheeks. Or so I told Eris that was the reason for the blush on my features, and certainly not the way way he’d refer to me as “my lady” or “little fox.”

We’d stayed up late, sitting by a bon fire outside beneath the Autumn Skies. There was music and dancing, spiked ciders, and caramel apples. I could see why Eris loves his court.

We, of course, kept respectful distance from eachother as not to spark any gossip of anything more than friendship between he and I. Yet somehow, hours later, we found ourselves in a private courtyard - a small fire burning as we lay back on a blanket together. I began to shiver as the evening chill grew cooler. As I went to bid Eris goodnight and head for the warmth within Castle Walls, he halted me.

“Come here” he spoke. His voice low.

I scooted a bit closer.

“Come closer, little fox. I won’t bite.”

He refrained from adding “unless you ask me to” but that was readable enough in his heavy lidded gaze.

So I laid beside him, my head nestled between his chest and shoulder as his heat warmed my body. I showed him various constellations that I’d learned of during my time in the Night Court and he did a terrible job of visualizing them. He tried though. He told me how he used to wish on shooting stars, how he still found himself occasionally wishing upon them. I teared up when he told me of the wishes he’d made back then for his mother and Lucien, for himself, to one day escape Beron’s cruelty. For a better life. A better Court.

When we saw a shooting star later, he made a wish and told me it was bad luck to tell someone else the wish.

And I, despite everything that had turned upside down in life, found myself struggling to ask for anything more than what I had in that moment.

When we finally said goodnight I realized his own suite was right next to the one he had set me up in.

I woke in a sweat sometime hours before dawn. Pain ripping through my chest. Azriel once again pulling on the fucking bond with no regard for the feelings of despair he was shoving to me. This time was worse than usual, the waves of grief continuing to grow stronger and stronger all the time. It wasn’t fair. I didn’t deserve this. This was a bed of his own making and yet I still had to suffer beyond what I’d already been through. Sleeping through it was futile and the room’s darkness began to suffocate me.

I padded from my room to a common area outside of the suites, sat before the fireplace and worked on breathing through it.

Though I tried my best to remain quiet, Eris apparently had a sharp sense of hearing as he wandered into the room, seating himself on the floor beside me. If I hadn’t been in such a sorry state, perhaps I would have noticed the low slung gray sweatpants and broad muscled chest of the half-naked High Lord- no, friend - beside me.

He took my hand. “Hey, fox, look at me.” I lifted my gaze to his. “You’ve got this. Breathe for me.” I took a shallow breath. “Can you breathe deeper for me, little one?” He placed a hand on my shoulder while the other remained on my hand. I took a deeper breath and let it out slowly.

“Good girl.”

Eris sat with me in silence on a plush couch once my breathing steadied. Still too worked up to fall back asleep, I nestled myself against Eris’ chest while his fingers ran through my hair in soothing, repetitive strokes.

It was hours later that I awoke, finding that I’d fallen asleep on him. I tried shifting away slowly but a sleeping Eris only held his arm around me tighter as I pulled. We slept like that a while longer.

The rest of the trip went by uneventfully. We discussed further trade options and Eris spent the evenings working with me on how to close off the bond to Azriel’s feelings. While I was already excellent at shutting down sending my feelings down the bond, cutting off his feelings was what I needed help with. By the end of the stay I could only feel his emotions slightly.

I expressed my gratitude to Eris who only waived off my thanks. “Anyone would have done it.” Yet he was the only one who tried. What I didn’t tell Eris was that as Azriel’s end of the bond silenced and the depths of my soul went from overflowing to filled with contentment, my thoughts began drifting to happier things, drifted to him.

Front porch and one more kiss. It doesn't make sense to anybody else.

The fifth month after I left, my grandparents held an outdoor feast for our family and friends in celebration of a holiday of one of the lesser Summer gods they worshipped.

It was far from a religious event. There was always wine, dancing, and lively conversation at these celebrations with none of the boring sermons that typically came with such events.

I invited Eris, and to my delight he came. My drunken sister made plenty of comments over how pretty of a pair of “friends” we made, with overemphasis on the word. My sweet, protective nephew took to Eris right away, deciding that after what Azriel put me through, anyone was better than him. He had no tolerance for cheating or sympathy for adulterers from the time he was old enough to understand what it meant and that his father had cheated on my sister during her pregnancy (real stand up guy) though my sister was so far out of his league that he’d have to reach the stars to find someone better. Obviously she’d left him immediately and she and my nephew were better off for it.

My family tried their best and failed miserably to act normal with the High Lord of the Autumn Court in their presence. Fortunately, Eris paid no mind and had won everyone over by the end of the night.

Despite his aversion to the sand, Eris accepted my invitation to camp on the beach so we could enjoy my favorite part of the night, the fireworks shooting off over the bay.

As the finale approached, I pouted.

“I hate when they end.”

Gesturing toward himself, Eris replied. “It’s a good thing you have a High Lord at your disposal to light up the night any time you wish.”

Before I could reprimand him for the crude comment, he began shooting small orbs of fire toward the water in a rainbow of colors.

My eyes sparkled watching the vibrant flares. Soon enough the orbs into butterflies of fire flying through the air, some circling around me. One brushed my cheek and there was no pain, just a gentle flutter.

“That’s… Just wow, that’s incredible, Eris!”

He gave a shrug of nonchalance in return.

“I bet you do that for all the ladies, don’t you?”

Eris looked me in the eyes, something unreadable in them.

“Only the ones I want to kiss.”

A moment passed before I realized that he was entirely serious.

And that I WANTED to kiss him.

So I did.

We kissed under the stars. It was a hard, passionate kiss, our shared breaths riddled with desperation, a profession of the unspoken words between us, “I’ve been waiting for this.”

And when we eventually pulled apart, I looked into his eyes with a smile, genuine, full of adoration, and Eris gently grasped the back of my head, pulling me into another searing kiss.

We shared many more before dawn.

You can’t undo a fall like this.

When Eris returned to the Autumn Court, I tried feeling any remorse for what we’d done. I was technically still a mated female, though I’d left and due to Azriel’s infidelity nobody expected me to honor the bond.

The guilt never came.

Eris had to travel so I wasn’t able to see him for the next couple weeks but we wrote back and forth often through enchanted notes. Curiosity or concern must have gotten the best of him because eventually he asked:

“Do you regret it?”

I knew exactly what he referred to.

“I regret many things, Eris. None of which pertain to you.”

I sent the letter to him with confidence. I did not regret a single thing about the night our lips collided on the beach.

“Thank the Mother, because I need to kiss you again.”

Heat radiated through me at his admission.

But then reality struck. He was the High Lord of the Autumn Court. I was the - separated, yes, but still - the mate of the Night Court’s Spymaster.

“Eris, I love spending time with you and will never regret it. You’ve helped me heal in ways I will never be able to repay you for. But this… how can this work? It’s messy.”

I sent the letter. My own heart crushing at the words. I didn’t want this to end but I couldn’t risk it going further just for reality to come crashing down on us.

Some time passed, the unease in my gut growing when his response appeared.

“If I wanted easy, I’d have married the daughter of some Autumn Lord. Nothing about my past has been easy and despite what some may believe, nothing worth having has come easily to me. Every second spent with you is worth it. Do not, Y/N, doubt that for one single moment. And perhaps this is crazy, but I would not want it any other way.”

It was that moment that I knew I wanted, I needed Eris as more than a friend.

“Then let’s be crazy, Eris Vanserra.”

I don't want "good" and I don't want "good enough"

The thing about immortality is that six months can bring more change than six decades or even centuries.

Six months ago I would have never dreamed that my mate would take the life we’d built over the years and tear it into shreds with those once sacred, beautiful scarred hands that I held reverently. The hands that placed the lovely mating band crafted from one of his own siphons on my finger after he’d made his vows, the hands that lovingly caressed my bare thighs through restless nights until sleep took me, hands that held me pressed to his chest and wiped away the tears of grief after yet another failed fertility cycle.

Those hands that held another and damned it all, the hands that came home and stroked my hair as pretty lies fell from his mouth, the hands that took my glass heart and dropped it.

I especially wouldn’t have dreamed that six months later I would be laying in the bed of the High Lord of the Autumn Court with his strong, warm hands holding me like this heart of mine that he’d forged anew was the most delicate, precious possession in his keep.

I want "can't sleep, can't breathe without your love"

We’d spent the night together making love. The kind of love making that shifts something intrinsic within a person, the type where no matter what happens, a piece of you is forever changed. It was more than just giving my body to him, it was a claiming of the soul.

We lay in bed all morning, his long fingers tracing along the arch of my bare back as he pressed soft kisses along my shoulder and neck. Between kisses, his low voice whispered quiet hopes and dreams for the future.

I was just about to speak those three words that I’d only ever spoken to one other male when a loud knock came on the chamber door.

“For fuck’s sake” Eris muttered before shouting “Come back later!”

“We apologize, High Lord but this is urgent.” a muffled male voice replied through the closed door.

Eris growled, shifting out of bed and throwing on his sweatpants not bothering with a shirt. I enjoyed the view.

“This better be worth my while, lads.” Eris hissed in a tone that conveyed “I’m very fucking inconvenienced right now but understand that you are doing your duty as my sentries.”

“Apologies again, High Lord, but we’ve….”

The male outside the door cleared his throat in attempt to communicate that the matter should be discussed privately.

“It’s fine.” Eris grumbled. “Just get on with it.”

“We, well, High Lord, we’ve apprehended the Shadowsinger. He was making an attempt to infiltrate the keep.”

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