#bittersweet beauty and the beast | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yandere-sins · 10 months

Note

Do you still write for yandere omega? That piece was soooo good oml, can you write an aftermath or just a snippet of day to day life with them? Yan omegas are so rare and they are rarely explored and tours really set a tone on what they could do. Its the ultimate ploy, nobody can suspect an omega desiring a simple beta, simply too outrageous to think

I never really stop writing for anything (that might be the actual problem, lol). Thanks for your request!

Warning: Yandere, Sexual Content!!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Tap, tap, tap.

Their fingers swept over the keyboard on their lap, restless and excited, generating countless words per minute. A smile played on the omega's lips, giddy and amused as they scrolled and replied to endless comments, the flood of new notifications never-ending. The success of their latest video—a video showing you and them immersed in heat and rut for hours to no end—was something that not even they could have expected. Still, they kept their online banking up, watching donations and premium membership fees roll in by the second, putting a wide grin on their face.

Humming in satisfaction, they halted their fanservice, glancing up from the blinding laptop screen to you, sitting on the chair next to them, still dazed as you ate your cereals. You two had been holed up for days in your nest, the whole production of your very first video having ruthlessly dragged you through all emotions known to mankind and leaving you exhausted. Not exhausted enough to refuse the food your omega procured for you, but enough so that you didn't argued or cried anymore while shoveling colorful, animal-shaped cereals and milk into your mouth.

Even like this—disheveled, still a little crusty (since you didn't want to get out of your curled position and shower with them after they stopped the recording), and sore—you were no less their beautiful beta than you were down in the love nest, ravaging your omega like a goddamn beast.

You had visibly turned off reality around you, sitting there completely out of it as you ate, heading your omega no mind. What you must be thinking about was as puzzling as it was unconcerning to them, their own thoughts had always been louder in their head. However, as they watched you, they grew antsy, missing your full attention on them like when you two were buried in sheets and in the spotlight of their production, even though it had been painful at times. But even pain was beautiful to some, and your pain was a gift to them, just like your love was. They missed your hands all over them, spit and sweat mixing as your bodies moved in perfect harmony with each other. Now, despite sitting close enough to you that they could easily reach out and hold your hand, it was not close enough.

They hadn't brought you here for you to be away from them. All the money and time that went into building, securing, and completely erasing the location of this mansion had not been so you two would be apart from each other. Not for you to have that kind of freedom, one that the omega didn't want for you or for them.

It was bittersweet to abandon their beloved fans for you, the very same people who made it possible for you two to be together. Who supported and encouraged the omega, no matter what, as they worked their butt off for more and more of their attention. And yet, the omega announced their farewells for the day, promising more exciting content to come tomorrow before logging off and closing the laptop.

It was your attention they wanted. Only yours.

It had only ever been you they desired, from kindergarten well into adulthood. They had always clung to you and pleaded for you to claim them long before your diagnosis. It was such a shame that you didn't present as an alpha when the time came; otherwise, their place at your side would have been surely secured. This way, they had to go to drastic lengths to be with you, even though the effort hadn't been in vain. Now they had you right where they wanted.

Their hand sliding up your arm, you halted your movements, spoon hanging in mid-air with milk dripping from its rim. There was a slight shake in your hand, growing more and more intense the higher the omega's hand traveled. Until they gripped your shoulder, the spoon clattering on the designer table, milk and cereals going everywhere as you winced in pain.

Their grip was merciless, considering the many, many marks and bruises they left on your body, the pain only now registering that you were out of the drug-induced rut. Your whole body was practically mauled by your omega's teeth and sharp nails, fists they used to get you in position when you were too high to listen to their demands. Everything hurt, and when they climbed on your lap, tears shot back into your eyes, their hands freely roaming your chest and arms without remorse about what they did to you.

In fact, they were proud feeling the indents through your t-shirt. A shirt they rubbed all over themselves before helping you into, marking you with their scent. Had you been an alpha, it would have been so easy to make sure you smelled like your omega. But you weren't. So they needed to use more drastic methods to mark you. The omega could think about a good handful more ways but decided to keep those for the next time they'd put you in front of a camera. Until then, a shirt and their body rubbing against yours had to suffice.

"You did so well," they cooed, longing for nothing more than to hear you praise them as well. But perhaps they had to show you first how to take care of an omega, so, once again, they took the lead, just like they always had in this relationship. "Fucked me so good, made me feel so full ~ My pretty little beta. You enjoyed it, too, right? We made such a lovely video; now my fans love you too."

"Ah- No more..." you gasped weakly, gripping the omega's waist and trying to push them off you. They grinned at your little, helpless defiance, the bite you had after arriving in your new home now muzzled after days of fucking. You had so many more beautiful sounds to give them than your screaming and crying—moaning, whimpering, begging. Their hips were grinding over your legs and into yours, the pain etched into your face of no concern to the omega as they kept disturbing all the sore and wounded parts of your body.

God, you were beautiful.

Day, night, evening, morning, you were always fucking stunning. Happy, smiling, angry, crying, needy, drooling, hurt, and despairing. There was no moment they didn't love you. You were only made for them, your beauty belonged all to the omega. Even god must have meant for you two to be together.

"Hush, it's okay. There, there..." your omega muttered, leaning forward to kiss your tears away, licking up the salty trails they left behind while their hips picked up speed on top of you, causing some blissful moans from the omega's lips. Nothing in this world turned them on like you did, even sitting at the table, crying pathetically over the pleasure they gave you. You were so seductive, even when you were hurting. Anything they gave you, pain or pleasure, you had to accept it just like the omega did. Pain, acceptance, being close to each other no matter what—all these feelings you harbored for them, you had to accept the same way they did. That's what love meant.

Sliding their hand down your chest, they dug under your waistband, sliding further and further. You let out a beautiful gasp, followed by your body shifting and hands trying to stop the passionate grind of the omega's hips. But latest when they had their hand on your sex, making you flinch at the touch, you slowly stilled, merely trembling as your breath turned ragged.

"That's it, baby!" the omega cheered, your pleasure becoming their own as they used their hand to get both of you off by grinding against it. "Come for me, Darling! You'll do it, right? Come for me? Come like a good beta from your omega's hand?"

They'd turn all this hurt into more and more love. Your pain would soon cease when you realized they were doing what was right for you. Their hand was slick with your juices, confirming that the omega was right—they were the best and only option for you to thrive in this life, just like the thought of you had driven them to success. It would turn you into an alpha despite your genes, at least one in mind. Now that they had you, they would never let you go. They'd never abandon you and take a real alpha; there was no need for it anymore when they could shape you into what they wanted.

Slipping their hand out of your shorts again, they licked off the remnants of your orgasm, watching as your body collapsed beneath them. That's right, they thought, just let yourself fall. Once you'd learn to leave behind all the bad thoughts and drown in the pleasure and love they'd give you, everything would get better. You could live your life with them, secluded and confined in your togetherness, in peace and harmony.

Your omega would do what you needed to realize this.

"I love you," they murmured against your lips, licking over the bloody marks of your own teeth that had bitten into them, kissing away the pain. Soon, there would be no need to hold back like this. No need for hostility against them. Everything would go back to how it was before your diagnosis. You two would finally be happy.

"I love you so much," they sighed, ignoring the jolt in your body as they began to grind again, not yet done with you. Mouths mixing in a one-sided kiss, the omega moaned into it, ignoring every flinch and your whining when they bit into your lips as well, combining your mark with theirs and tasting what belonged to them.

They knew they might have to ruin you some more to achieve their goals. Break in the old belief that you two could never be together, and let it crumble like a house of cards by showing you how they could take care of you. Bring out your real potential as their partner. Claim you until you were too weak to refuse them as your bonded partner.

It was a rocky road until then, littered with more arguments, nights of silence, tears, and them getting what they wanted no matter how much you suffered. But they had gone through much worse to get to where they were now. The extra effort would not stand in the way of your happiness. After all, that's what devotion was.

And your omega would always be the one and only for you.

#omegaverse #yandere omegaverse #yandere!omegaverse #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW

1K notes · View notes

sweetandgentlecreature · 8 months

Note

May I request some jealous Henry with lots of fluff, please? 🥹❤️

You got it, babe! I may have taken a bit of a liberty with this one. I got a thought in my head and had to get it out, so I'm sorry if it wasn't quite what you'd imagined, lol. Thanks for stopping by!

Warnings: a little bit of angsty homesickness, some raunchy banter, and plenty of fluff in the form of a cow/bear/pig

"So...What are you wearing?"

"Henry!"

His laughter fills the room. Another night apart means another night alone in bed. Distance is always hard on a relationship, and though you've been through your share of time apart, it doesn't make it any easier this time around. At least it's just for a couple of weeks, while he's off running the press gauntlet for the newest season of The Witcher. It's bittersweet this time around. The last several months have been hard, watching him mourn the loss of a project he loved so much, and it sucks that you couldn't be there for him now. The plan was for him to go off and do everything abroad, then you'd meet back up and join him at the premiere in London. In the meantime though, all this waiting was driving you nuts.

The house is dark, except for the glow of the bedside lamp that illuminates the room that you're used to sharing with your man and his bear. Kal is used to tagging along for most adventures, and it's clear that he's a bit disappointed about having to stay behind as well. His ears perk up at the sound of his dad's voice, but doesn't bother to investigate further. He's far too comfy to move.

"Come on, love. Just a peek?"

Henry is a menace, and he knows what that does to you. With those beautiful eyes and that cheeky little grin, you could never tell him no. Throwing the blankets aside, you reach out to adjust the screen of your laptop to give him the perfect view of your sexiest fleece pajama bottoms.

"Hey!" he protests. "That's my shirt!"

"Yeah, and?

Even now, propped up in the bed of a hotel room a couple thousand miles away, Henry couldn't hide from you. The banter was just a facade, a distraction to keep you from seeing just how much he missed you. He thought he'd built a wall of stone to keep you from knowing, but in reality, it was just a pane of glass. One look and it shattered around him.

Henry sighs. He doesn't have to speak for you to know what he's feeling, because you feel it too. It's an odd sensation, feeling so homesick when you're still at home. You look down at the t-shirt you're wearing. The gray one he wore in the Durrell Challenge a few years back. Even though its been sitting in the back of the closet for a while, it still smells like him. That's why you picked it.

"What time is it there?" you ask, but it's clear by the look in his eyes just how tired he is. Must be getting pretty late, even for an insomniac gamer like him.

"Late. But I don't have anything planned for the morning, so don't worry."

You sit in silence for a moment, both of you laying on your sides facing each other just as you would if he were here with you now. When you open your mouth to speak, to finally admit just how much you miss him, you're cut short by a loud, rumbling snort from the foot of the bed. The culprit lets out a yawn ("Good yawn!") and a stretch ("Big stretch, bubba"), then works his way up the bed to nose at the keyboard a bit.

"Uh oh. We've woken the bear," you tease, rubbing the beast behind his ears as he circles the space he's made between you and the computer to rest in. Kal sniffs and sighs to voice his disappointment, then settles down again to snooze for a little while longer.

"Keeping Mumma company, I see," Henry smirks. "I might even let it slide that you've let him on the bed."

You shrug, grinning ear to ear as you ruffle Kal's mane. "When the wolf's away..."

That struck a nerve. Maybe it's the jetlag finally catching up to him, or maybe its the distance. You can see it in the shift in his eyes, the tense of his jaw. It makes you snort with laughter.

"Oh, come on, Cavill. Look at that face. You can't possibly be jealous of him. You'll get plenty of snuggles the moment you're home." Then you wink. "Snuggles, and then some."

The wrinkles on his brow disappear, and he realizes just how silly it is to be jealous of the dog. Better to be jealous of him than someone else, at least. Shaking his head, he laughs. What an idiot. Either way, it's good enough for now. Henry shifts to prop himself up on an elbow to look down at the screen. He's sure you'll make good on your promise. In the meantime...

"Now," he says with a grin. Good ole Henry, always back to business as per usual. "Care to flash me a tit?"

#requests #henry cavill #henry cavill fic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill one shot #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavil x reader

470 notes · View notes

theonewiththefanfics · 3 months

Text

A Life Worth Living (one-shot)

Synopsis: As sickness creeps closer in taking her life, Y/N has come to make her final amends. Though the Astarion she fell for no longer exists, even the cold clutch of absolute power can't match true love.

This is sort of an AU! because in truth, Ascended Astarion would not give a single shit if you've left him at this point, sorry :D I just had to get this out of my head

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x fem!Reader; Astarion x fem!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Warnings: talks of sickness (not specified), dying, death, swearing etc. Minimally edited :)

Word count: 5115

The day was much like any other in Baldur’s Gate – sunny without even a single wispy cloud in the sky, yet the Ancunin palace rose above all the rest like a beast in the night, drowning the houses in menacing shadows.

Matches, Y/N thought, to the person living inside.

Wrought iron gate surrounded the grounds, thorny rose vines looping through, while beautiful blooms opened towards the slowly moving star above.

This could’ve been her home, had she not said no. She shuddered to think what her life would’ve been like.

That had been almost five years ago. So much had changed during that time. It didn’t even feel like just half a decade had passed, it felt more like a century since Y/N had left Astarion. But she couldn’t stay with him. Not after he’d Ascended, completing the ritual he’d killed Cazador for, and became what he had always hated – a version of Cazador himself.

Her hand had barely touched the handle of the gates before it swung open on its own accord. Y/N shouldn’t be surprised by it, not with how much magic she’d seen and experienced during her travels, but still, such small things made their impact. Whether it was an invitation inside, or a trap only time would tell.

She didn’t have much of it, which is why she was there in the first place. Had that cursed sickness not been slowly taking over her body, eating away at it, cell by cell, Y/N would have dragged this final meeting with Astarion as far in the future as she could, but there were still friends she wanted to visit, places to see, no matter how limited her life had become.

With thinly veiled amazement, because she didn’t want to marvel at what surely was slave work, she walked down the gravel path towards the large double doors of the mansion, looking at the meticulously groomed gardens. Not even a single leaf was out of place. A bittersweet smile tugged at her lips. Where once she would’ve believed Astarion to be the one to care for these plants, now Y/N knew in her heart, he’d never stoop so low as to even get on one knee to prune a rose. Such a thing was below him nowadays. Let alone sleeping next to her on a bedroll.

When she stood face to face with the large carved oak doors, her heart picked up its rhythm. She couldn’t help it, as years of memories, of love won and lost, rushed through her mind. Slowly, she raised her hand to knock.

It took about half a minute for the doors to open, an unfamiliar face staring back at her.

A vampire spawn, eyes red and glowing, looking at her with a cocked head.

“Can I help you?” he asked, giving her an appraising glance.

Y/N let out a breath. “I’m here to see Astarion.”

“Master Ancunin is not taking any visitors. Not without a previous notice,” he said it almost with a sneer, but she just gave him a smile.

“Tell him an old friend has stopped by. From the times before.”

The vampire looked ready to scoff and throw the door closed in her face, but stopped as he was closing it, a recollection of something flashing across his features. Whether he recognised her as a hero of Baldur’s Gate, or maybe he recognised her from a story Astarion might’ve told didn’t matter, because whatever it was, hopefully would grant her this one meeting.

With that though, Y/N was left to wait outside, pretty much twiddling her thumbs. Astarion probably wouldn’t take it too kindly if she went and took a bloom, though it used to be something he did for her. He used to do so much for her…

About five minutes later, the same spawn appeared, opening the door and motioning for her to enter.

“Master Ancunin will be with you shortly.”

And once again, she was left awing at the hallway, this time completely alone. She guessed no one saw her as a threat, despite the fact she had felled many enemies, including the Absolute. But oh well. At least she didn’t have to awkwardly stand with a guard or something, trying to figure out what small talk to fill the silence with. This gave her a chance to have a look at her surroundings.

A grand staircase, looping up to both sides, stood in front of her, while the palace spiralled away to the right and left. The entrance itself was almost like a ballroom, and she was sure, Astarion had at least one, if not more. What would those look like? What would a ball itself in the Ancunin residence look like? Would there be dancing and singing? Would people be laughing?

She couldn’t imagine it. Not with how he had degraded her after Ascending, telling her to kneel, telling her he’d turn her into a spawn, not because he wanted to spend the rest of their eternities together, but because of the control he now wished to exert over her.

A vision of herself, a blood-red gown, her eyes matching the velvet he’d no doubt dress her in, flashed across her mind. And a beautiful pearl necklace cinched tightly, two large bite marks across the slant of the skin. A collar disguised as gems to tether her to him. One large gilded cage to keep her in.

“Well, well, well… if it isn’t my darling, crawling back home.”

Astarion stood at the top of the staircase landing, bringing Y/N out of her pondering.

He was a vision, as he always had been, but now, were vulnerability and love had shone in his eyes, only wry amusement and cruelty were left in their place.

His steps echoed across the empty house as he made his way down, not taking his gaze away from her. Y/N could imagine how she looked to him – covered in dirt and dust from weeks of traveling, eyes hollowed by dark circles and hair a complete mess, skin cracked around her lips, its colour dull. Compared to his meticulously coifed locks, the intricate frock and trousers, and even his gem-covered boots, she was a disaster.

Despite the pain in her heart, Y/N managed a smile. “You look good, Astarion.”

He scoffed, coming to stand before her. “Of course, I look good. I always did. You just didn’t appreciate it. Have you come back to beg? I do like a bit of grovelling. Though after what you did, there might be more you have to do than just plead for me to take you back.”

She chuckled, shaking her head and looped her arm through his elbow, undoubtedly surprising him, as she took charge and led them to the left, no idea where the hallway was going to bring her to, otherwise she might start crying. “Tell me everything Astarion. I want to know how you’ve faired these past five years.”

Her nonchalance, her whole attitude had completely stunned him, something Y/N didn’t think she was capable of, but maybe it was good. Without having knocked him off balance a bit, he might’ve just turned her away, but she needed this conversation. This closure before the sickness took her.

Together they walked inside what turned out to be a dining room. Did he even need one? He didn’t eat human food, even though he was Ascended now, and could enjoy the tastes.

“I have to say,” he started, “I did not expect to see you again.”

Y/N sighed, looking at the paintings hung along the walls, at the gleaming chandeliers above. “Believe me, I did not expect to come either.”

“Then why are you here? If not to apologise for what you did, why bother wasting my time?”

The words stung, but she wasn’t going to tell him the real reason. It wouldn’t matter to him anyway. He told her he wished she died screaming, and though that might still be a possibility, it was more likely she would simply go to sleep one night and never wake up. “Because, although I do not believe I have anything to apologise for, I did wish to make amends. Life for us mortals, is so short… and the thought of living the rest of mine, without at least having tried, seemed… wrong.”

Astarion scoffed, but she could feel him tightening his elbow, as if he didn’t want her hand to slip from the crook it rested in. “I will not apologise for my decisions.”

“I am not asking you to,” Y/N said. “I simply wish for us to become friends once more. If only for the sake of sentimentality.”

“Sentiment,” Astarion sneered. “But what else can I expect from such a creature as a human.”

Y/N let out an amused huff, pressing down the real impact it left on her heart. He knew right where to cut, because when they’d been together during the tadpole adventure, she’d laid her soul bare to him. Told him all about her fears and hopes, how much of a hopeless romantic she was, so now, to tell her it was foolish to try and rekindle if only a friendship, was stupid… but she hadn’t expected more from this version of Astarion.

He’d already given much more time than she’d expected. Half of her had thought when the spawn would tell him who was at the door, he would take the chance and fulfil his words by killing her himself.

Absolute power corrupts absolutely. It’s what she’d told him when she’d tried to talk him out of the ritual. How he would be condemning seven thousand other lives. But he hadn’t cared. Astarion had believed he deserved the power, deserved to complete what Cazador couldn’t. Y/N couldn’t stand by and watch, nor would her conscience allow her to be by his side.

And so she’d left. Because there was nothing left of the man she’d fallen in love with. For these five years after, she’d avoided Baldur’s Gate, hearing from whispers and gossip how he’d risen in the ranks of politics and society, how brutal he could be to his servants and those who stood in his way, almost reminding her of when he’d talked about his Magistrate days, only amped to a hundred. A new, sickening Cazador at the helm.

“But how have you been, darling?” Astarion almost sounded bored as they moved into what passed for a living room in this palace, Y/N assumed. “What shenanigans have you caused?”

And so she told him. As a servant spawn brought a tea-set laying out two cups, though Astarion didn’t even pick his up, Y/N recounted how she’d gone all across the Sword Coast, had travelled over the seas and seen knew lands. How she’d done the things he’d promised they would do together.

“Sounds rather… dull,” he commented, lounging on the seat. “But I suppose to such simple minds and hearts as yours, it’s all very exciting and enthralling.”

She wanted to snap at him, remind how half of the ideas she’d completed, had been his, but instead, Y/N just took a deep breath. “Have you finally gotten everything you wanted, Astarion?” she asked instead. “Are you finally happy?”

That had been the true question plaguing her mind these past years.

He turned to look at her, eyes blazing. “I have power, status, people bow to my every whim. What more could I possibly want?”

“Then I’m happy for you,” she said, setting down her half-drunk tea. “Even if it means nothing to you anymore, I am happy you’ve finally gotten what you wished.”

An awkward silence settled between the two, and Y/N took it as her cue to wrap things up. “I best take my leave.”

“And where will you possibly go?” he sneered, but stood up alongside her, making their way back to the grand oak doors.

“Karlach and I are meeting up at a local tavern. And then we’re all going to the get together at Wyll’s. You would know that, had you come to the party Wither’s invited us all to.”

“And waste my time?” he scoffed. “No thanks. This conversation has done enough of that.”

By now they were at the doors, and Y/N turned around, taking in her final fill of the vampire. No doubt this would be the last time she ever saw him. “I hope you have a good life, Astarion. You deserve it. Despite how things went down between us, I do wish all the best for you.”

Slowly, she leaned up and pressed a kiss against his cheek. It was cold, but not as cold as she had been used to. No doubt he used every opportunity to lazy out in the sun, or feed on someone.

Just as she was about to exit, he grabbed her by the wrist, his hold tight and not something she’d be able to break out of.

Astarion’s scarlet eyes narrowed in on her, pulling her closer to him.

Y/N’s heart spiked. Was he really still that hurt, he would finally cash in on that revenge? She knew she would never be able to hurt him. No matter what, that romantic heart of hers would betray her.

He snapped her to his chest, her breath hitching in her lungs, as he leaned down by her neck and inhaled. Her frame was ramrod straight, not daring to move a muscle. When he finally moved back, anger and something else raged in his eyes. Was it… fear?

“Now, my dear, tell me the real reason you came here.”

“I -,”

“And don’t lie,” he hissed. “Because I can smell it on you. In your blood.”

“Smell what?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“Death.” And Y/N had to be hallucinating, because she was sure she heard his voice crack. “Sickness and death runs through your veins. It’s – it’s like acid.”

“What’s it matter, Astarion? What would any of it change?”

“It would chan-,” but he stopped himself.

Y/N leaned a bit closer, her Y/E/C eyes narrowed, trying to decipher what she was seeing on that stony face, but pulled back, shaking her head. “Maybe you will finally get your wish and I will die screaming.”

By the look on his face, she understood Astarion did not appreciate the comment. “You dare enter my home, under the pretences of lies and deceit,” but his vile words didn’t match what she could see brewing underneath – despair. If only she was still naïve enough to believe he felt anything else but contempt for her. “I deserve to know the truth.”

“But you do know it.” Y/N shrugged. “So I’m going to ask you once again – what does the knowledge that I am dying, change? I would still die someday. Whether it is in a week or in half a century, I would still die. What’s it matter?”

“Had you not been stupid, and accepted my offer of becoming a spawn, you wouldn’t be in this mess,” Astarion spit, but didn’t release his grip.

“I did not come here to ask you to change me.” She placed her hand against where his heart should be beating, yet everything was still under her fingers. “I am not afraid of death. I am not happy its coming for me so quickly, but I would rather have my life end now, than live as a spawn.”

Hurt crossed his face. “Would living with me really be so repulsive to you?”

“Living as your slave would.” Y/N lifted her chin. “We would not be equals. You would never see me as the person I am, but rather as a thing to own. And I, for one, thought you would be the first person to understand why I would never choose such an option.”

This was not how she wanted them to part, but it seemed like it would once again leave them as enemies.

She pulled away from Astarion, and this time he let her.

“I hope one day you do understand my choices. Because as much as I disagree with yours, I have always accepted and understood them. Live Astarion, if only for yourself.”

Sunlight greeted her, as she opened the door, but she didn’t manage to put a single foot outside, when the vampire grabbed her by the nape of the neck, pulling her back in and slamming the door shut.

“I am sorry my dear, but that simply won’t do.”

Fear didn’t even get a chance to rush through her veins when everything went black.

It was a while before Y/N finally came to, but when she did, she was laid on a plush bed, body covered in a duvet, head resting against the softest pillow in the universe, and the sky outside was the violet of the setting day.

Horror struck her as her memories came to her – of Astarion pressing his palm against her nose and mouth, preventing her from breathing. Of how unconsciousness took over, while his red eyes glared at her fading form. But worse – the conversation they’d had right before that, about refusing to become a spawn.

Did he really hate her that much, he’d turn her against her will?

But instead of Astarion sitting in the room she found…

“Gale?” Y/N’s brow furrowed as she raised herself to her forearms on the mattress. “What are you doing here?”

“Ah, you’re awake.” The wizard stood with a smile, walking to sit beside her. “How are you feeling?” He pressed a palm against her forehead, checking the temperature, and hummed when he deemed it to be normal.

“Fine,” she mumbled. “But again – what are you doing here?”

“Astarion called.”

“Astarion?” Y/N was befuddled. She would’ve assumed Gale would be the last person ever he would contact, well, last except for her. Especially if he’d turned her into a spawn. No doubt would their friends come to battle if they heard such a thing. And yet Gale seemed perfectly content in the vampire’s castle.

“He sent such a panicked message, I portaled here as quickly as the Weave would allow and-,”

Gale was stopped mid-sentence as the door clicked open.

But the man standing in the doorway wasn’t the Astarion she’d known before, the man she had fallen head over heels in love with, or even the Ascended Astarion she’d spoken to that day. No. This Astarion had eyes as bright green as freshly grown grass, cheeks red and full of life and the blunt incisors of a human, hope and shame shining in his irises.

She whipped her head to Gale. “What in the name of all the Hells did you two do?”

“We saved your life,” the now ex-vampire entered the room, his movements slow as if Y/N was a deer he would startle if he did anything quicker than the pace of a snail. “And I paid the price for it.”

She swallowed hard. “And what exactly was the price?”

“My immortality.”

Now, Y/N assumed she’d been cured as she was inclined to believe not only because of Astarion’s transformation, but because Gale so meticulously was counting her breaths and heartbeat, but that confession almost did take her out, the shock of it all.

She threw a wary glance at the wizard. “So – so I’m not a spawn?”

“No,” Astarion shook his head. “But I don’t blame you for believing I would do such a… vile thing.”

Heavy silence settled in the room when she finally turned to look at him. “But I thought you had everything you ever wanted.”

“I did so too,” he nodded. “But when I smelled it, that – that sickness in your blood… I guess it is true what they say – love is the most powerful magic of all. Because the thought of you dying – it did something to my head… my heart. I could not let that happen.”

Y/N surveyed him, the new person standing before her. “You gave up everything for me. All the power… everything…”

“I won’t lie – I almost gave into the temptation, I almost did bite you. But these past five years were… miserable. And the thought of living the rest of eternity with the knowledge you hated me before you died… it wasn’t something I could do. Even with all the power in the world, the one weakness I have never been able to rid myself of is you.”

Neither noticed Gale clear his throat and motion towards the door, and neither noticed how it shut behind the wizard, leaving them on their own.

She watched as Astarion crossed the room, and sat himself down at the very foot of the bed, eyes locked onto the fingers in his lap. He was still as graceful as ever, but no longer was there this predatory supernatural sense to it. Now he was more a ballet dancer, than a stalking panther.

“So what happens now?”

“Now,” he sighed. “Now I don’t know. I didn’t really think further than Gale performing the ritual and hoping it would be enough.”

“Am I… immortal now?”

“No,” Astarion shook his head, and his smile was so warm, it almost knocked her back down to the bed. “You’re as human, as human can be. Only healthy now. Hopefully with many a decade before you yet to be lived.”

“And you?” she had to address the elephant in the room. “What exactly are you now?”

“I,” he sighed and looked at the wall. No, not the wall, but a large mirror, his eyes boring into the ones of his reflection. “I am what I was before Cazador. As common as a high elf can be.”

“I just don’t understand,” Y/N said. “I don’t get why you would do such a thing. Seven thousand spawn died for you to gain all that power, for you to prove you could complete what Cazador couldn’t. How could you just throw it all away?”

Astarion sighed, standing up and moving to the other side of the room where a large open door stood, leading out to a balcony. He leaned against the railing, and Y/N finally got out of the bed.

She could feel the strength having returned to her muscles. No longer did they ache, no longer did her bones scream, no longer did she feel tired and weak. A new zeal of life had filled her, and she couldn’t get why Astarion had given it all up for her to – what? Live maybe just a couple of more decades?

Together they leaned on the marble railing, overlooking the lush gardens, the flowers now a duller colour, but still as beautiful in moonlight, as they were in the sun.

“For five years I imagined what I would do if you showed up on my doorstep,” Astarion started. “There were times I imagined taking you and putting you in chains, dragging you to a dungeon and inflicting unspeakable pain, because that’s how it felt when you left. I wanted to do nothing but hurt you. And then I imagined how you would have come to your senses, how you would come and beg me to turn you into a spawn, finally realising your place was always beside me.”

He looked at her. “But then you did turn up. And all I could do was barely hold it together and not kiss you then and there. When you said you were dying, but that it would be a better life than with me, something… something cracked. Whether it was my sense coming back to me, the part of my brain that made good decisions being released from a prison of power, I don’t know.” Astarion chuckled. “But the only thing running through my head was – the one person that has always loved you selflessly, is dying. And you’re a pathetic coward that can’t do anything to stop it.”

“When Gale told me there was a way to heal you, but it would cost me, somehow I didn’t even pause to think. I just told him to do it. If the price for you being able to live a fulfilled life was having my power, my immortality stripped away, he could’ve for all I cared, spilled all my blood and let me bleed dry. As long as it meant you were here – living and breathing.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s what you would’ve done. And I couldn’t be bested by a dying woman. Would turn you into a full martyr, and I couldn’t have someone outshining me like that.”

Y/N wiped at her eyes and cleared her throat, letting out a choked back laugh. “What was the ritual?”

“Apparently Gale had been looking at certain transfers of power for a while.” Astarion shrugged. “When I contacted him, I didn’t even have anything specific in mind, I just knew he would probably be the best at figuring out what, if anything, could be done. Of course, had the answer been negative, it would not have ended well for our dear wizard, but you understand my point.”

“Well, I am glad Gale is still in one piece.” Y/N looked at him as she slowly covered his palm with hers. Astarion’s breath hitched, when she intertwined their fingers. “And I am grateful to the both of you for what you did. But I will forever be in debted to you.”

“No,” Astarion shook his head, tightening his hold, as if terrified she’d slip away like sand. “There is no debt to be repaid. Actually, I think I should be the one thanking you. For showing up. For even thinking I was worth enough to say goodbye to, but I have to ask… Were you ever going to tell? Had I not smelled it on you, would you have ever told anyone? Because when I told Gale, he was so stunned, I almost thought he would join you and pass out.”

“No,” Y/N shook her head. “By the time I decided I had to see you at least once more before I… well, you know… I’d already met all of our friends individually. I had thought of asking Shadowheart if there was a spell maybe, but ultimately, no.”

“Why would you keep something like that to yourself?”

“I didn’t feel like burdening the others.” She shrugged her shoulders. “We’ve all gone through so much darkness, have so much else to worry about, I didn’t want to add more to that.”

“Surely you know those idiots would ride blindfolded into battle for you.”

“I do. But it’s not like I would want that. Besides… if those were to be my last days, I wanted them to be filled with joy and fun things. Not with Halsin worrying if such excitement was healthy for me, or Lae’Zel scolding me for certain decisions. And let’s not even mention Karlach who’d cross the world searching for a cure that might not even exist.”

“And you left me for last…”

Y/N bit down hard on her lip. “Because it took everything in me to get over the hurt. Get over what you did and said. Because I was terrified you would slam the door in my face if I showed up.”

A tear rolled down his own cheek, as he bit the inside of it. “A fair assumption. And maybe if you’d come earlier, I would have. But… deep down I knew, I would have done everything to try and make you stay. Even through the haze of that power… my heart has always been yours. And still is. If you will have it.”

The words coming out of her mouth hurt, but they had to be said, despite how ardently she wished to say yes and return to how things were. But she knew she couldn’t neither of them could. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Astarion.” She could see him visibly shrink down, tears now unabated as they flowed like rivers from his eye. He wanted to pull away, but she didn’t let him, holding onto his hand tighter, running a soothing thumb over his hand, so warm and alive under her touch, it made her sigh.

“You’ve just regained yourself.” Y/N tried to give what was an endearing smile, but was probably more a grimace. “You’ve just become an elf again… there is so much you need to grasp and realise… I don’t think a relationship is what would be good right now.”

Two green eyes met her Y/E/C ones. Gods, the colour was so gorgeous, she felt like drowning in his gaze. “The only thing I was ever sure of in my life was you. Even as an Ascended bastard. And then I blew it. Absolutely smashed my chance to pieces like an idiot, but… if you’ll allow it. I would like another try. If only at being someone worthy to stand by your side.”

Y/N felt her lips quirk up. “Would it be overtly presumptuous of me to think, that by the end of it, you would wish to be more than friends?”

“If I am only allowed to be your friends, I will fall to my knees before you and beg for the chance. But no longer will I lie and say my true intentions aren’t to hopefully, one day, get on one knee, and wish for a shared life.”

She had not seen such a version of Astarion, so candid and vulnerable, since leaving him. And for him to be so open, made some resolve in her melt a bit. “We can try. Slowly.”

It was like a boulder had rolled off Astarion’s chest, his whole body visibly shuddering in relief, before he tentatively, as if waiting for her rejection, weaved a hand around her waist.

She rested her head against his shoulder, revelling in the feeling of him pressing his cheek to the top of it. And when he tilted her chin up, a hopeful gaze in his eyes as it slipped to her lips, she didn’t stop him when he pressed his mouth to hers.

It was like surfacing for a breath after years of being pulled down in an abyss, something Y/N never thought she’d be able to do again. And that kiss – it was filled with so much love, she didn’t need oxygen to breathe.

There was still a world of hurt between then, a universe of making up to be done, but they had time. They had all the time they wanted or could need.

“To a new start, my love.” She muttered against his lips, and the smile Astarion gave her was more brilliant than the moon and stars shining in the sky combined.

“And to a life worth living.”

The next kiss they shared sure as hells was.

Tags:

Astarion tags: @spacebarbarianweird @omggiannarosa @poisonquinzell @iffazu @alisoncdariel

Everything tags: @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @m-a-t-91 @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @lestersglitterglue @im-squished @strangersstrange

A/N: My tags are always open

Please don't repost onto other platforms! That is called plaigarism :)

I also had an idea of writing this from Astarion's POV, so if that is something of interest, do let me know :)

390 notes · View notes

thesugarsoiree · 8 months

Text

Of Winter’s Flame | CHAPTER TWO

“Stay safe, make sure Tohrren is with you at all times; no matter what.” Cregan held Y/n’s forehead to his, the girl hugging tightly to his body.

She was ten and seven now, a young Lady of elegant stature who had become the North itself. Her dark hair was thick and long, cascading down past her waist even with half tied up in intricate braids. The girl had grown beautifully into her soft features and delicate disposition — well, as delicate as a Lady of the North could be. Y/n was kind to her people and caring of her community, she was well trained in the sword and bow thanks to Cregan and well versed in the written word thanks to her maesters. Perhaps that charm, the same charm that brought her mother South, was what beckoned her there now.

The King’s final letter to Y/n after a year of correspondence was a summoning to Kingslanding. She was to join his court as a Lady of the Queen and ‘take her rightful place as a Targaryen’ according to the King’s writings.

“I will miss you, uncle.” Y/n barely held back the tears glazing her bright eyes, stepping away from Cregan.

“You are a Stark, your mothers daughter, nobody can change that.” Cregan’s smile was bittersweet as he held Y/n’s face, drinking in the last he would see of her for months — maybe even years.

“I love you, uncle.” Y/n kissed his cheek, his beard fully grown and braided like her hair.

“I love you too , Y/n.”

Y/n tried her best to get sleep while in the carriage, yet so far all she could do was stare out of the window as the North slowly but surely turned into the South. Her hand languidly stroked Tohrren, the hound finding better sleep than her on this journey.

One thing would not leave her mind, and that was the realization that she could possibly claim a dragon. A story she was told a few years ago came to her mind, one recounted by her cousin, Rhaenyra.

It was a cool evening, as most in the North were, and Y/n alongside Rhaenyra sat within the library of Winterfell. The Princess had gathered a handful of books and chronicles she desired Y/n to read, both sitting in comfortable silence as the fireplace crackled between them.

“Rhaenyra, why do I not have a dragon?” Y/n looked up from her pages, and Rhaenyra did as well. The woman saw the book the younger girl was reading; Dragons of Westeros: A History.

“All of these dragons were bonded to their riders in the crib, as small hatchlings. Why was an egg not placed within mine?” Y/n furrowed her brow, frustrated with this revelation. Rhaenyra’s lips twitched up, her violet gaze wandering towards the soft flames of the fireplace.

“Your father…he is a complicated man, but I believe I know the reason why. Would you like to hear a story?” Rhaenyra asked and Y/n nodded rapidly, closing her book.

“Back in the time of Aenys Targaryen, when the wise King Jaehaerys was still a babe, the wild dragon of the south was born.” Rhaenyra began, looking towards Y/n.

“She was said to be the product of Balerion and Vhagar, hatched from a dark purple egg with swirls of blue decorating its shell. She was born a beautiful dragon, the most radiant of her time, with wings that blended into the night sky and large icy eyes which froze the strongest of men in their tracks.

She was meant to be the mount of little Jaehaerys, but the beast had other plans. She took off one fateful evening and disappeared for years,” Rhaenyra enjoyed the way Y/n leaned in further to hear her, the girl enamored by the tale.

“Then, on a cool night quite like this, the wildling returned. She was full grown, with sharp talons and wide wings that casted shadows over Kingslanding just as her fathers had. She was smaller than her mother, but not by much. Viserys Targaryen, in an attempt to escape his captor and uncle, Maegor the Cruel, tried to tame the wild beast. He would, however, be unsuccessful.” Y/n gasped, putting her hand over her mouth.

“The wild dragon killed him as soon as she took to the air, throwing him back down to his tragic death. This would earn her the name Crownstealer.” Rhaenyra took the book from Y/n’s lap, flipping through a few pages before she found the one depicting the wild dragon.

“I think that your father has faith that you will be the first to tame her, this is why you have no dragon.” Rhaenyra knew what she said were lies, and eventually Y/n would realize that too, but in the moment Y/n chatted on and on about how she would change the dragon's name and be the first rider of the great Crownstealer.

Now, of course, Y/n knew that her cousin was making up excuses for her fathers ignorance. Yet, she couldn't help the idea of taming the untamable being quite appealing. It was a thought for a later time, a time when she would see Crownstealer’s shadow in person, not a time when she desperately needed to sleep.

Y/n forced her eyes shut, mind fading into dreams of Crownstealer’s painting.

Winter had arrived.

Y/n stepped out of her carriage after Tohrren, a footman lending his hand to her. She took it with a smile, although it did not last long once the gates to the palace opened. There, followed by a procession of her ladies and knights, was Queen Alicent Hightower. Her regality was not exaggerated, with auburn hair braided back in a southern style and ringlets of jewels resting on her forehead acting as her crown. Her dress was a forest green, deep and alluring with its golden accents. The style was long and flowing, off-shoulder sleeves framing the dainty seven-starred necklace she wore. Upon further inspection of the gold details Y/n realized that they were streams of winding smoke coming from a tower at the base of her dress. The Hightower.

“Lady Y/n,” The Queen smiled, stopping in front of the girl, “It is a pleasure to finally meet you, my husband is quite fond of you.”

Y/n curtsied politely before handing her furs to her footman, the sun far more overbearing in the southern sky.

“I should say the same, your grace. Thank you for receiving me.” Y/n kept her tone even, wary of the watchful eyes of the Queen’s people. An imposing male figure stood to her right, sharp eyes looking Y/n up and down. The man’s white and gold armor was a dead giveaway that he was a man of the Kingsguard, well-kept brown hair brushed out of his face.

“Ser Criston, please show Lady Y/n’s guard where they will be staying.” The man to her right nodded stiffly, leaving to go speak with the procession of Northern men that had followed Y/n down from Winterfell. It was at the insistence of her uncle; over two dozen knights assigned to protect her whilst she was away.

“Please, my child, follow me.” Alicent beckoned, Y/n falling in line beside her. Alicent linked arms with Y/n, patting the girl's forearm with care.

“Tohrren, heel.” Y/n commanded, the hound following close beside. Alicent raised a brow but held her tongue, ignoring the action.

“The King has eagerly awaited your arrival, I think he will be shocked to see how Northern you are.” The Queen chuckled, attempting to make conversation as they made their way to the King’s chambers.

“I have been told I favor my mother in looks, but I have my fathers eyes. Targaryen eyes, perhaps the King will find solace in that.” Y/n hummed as they entered the Red Keep.

“Yes, perhaps…Y/n, it is a Northern name, correct?” Alicent questioned.

“It is, my mother declared it her favourite before I was born. If I was to be a boy, however, my namesake would have been my grandfathers; Rickon.” Y/n confirmed, mouth slightly agape from her surroundings. The Red Keep was an imposing piece of architecture, with single halls as big as Winterfell and twice the amount of nobles floating about. Y/n also noticed an alarming amount of seven spiked stars, the religious symbol anywhere they could squeeze it.

“Do you…do you have a Godswood I can pray at here, your grace?” Y/n asked, abruptly aware that the Old Gods did not serve here.

“We are subscribed to the Faith of the Seven in the South, but we do have a weirwood tree in our gardens, my daughter often reads there.” Alicent sighed, eyes weary as she recounted the tree that held so many memories.

“The King’s Chambers,” Alicent stopped at the end of a long hall, ornate double doors waiting to be opened, “Your hound must wait out here, the King is ill and should not be exposed to any…disturbances.”

Alicent sounded innocent enough, and Y/n wasn't about to disobey the Queen, so she handed Tohrren’s leash to one of the knights as the doors were opened. Tohrren would still be right outside if she needed him, which considering who she was about to meet, Y/n hoped not. Alicent led the way, confident strides making her quick. Y/n took a few deep breaths, twiddling with the fur of her sleeves. This was it.

She was about to meet the King.

#x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd x reader #x fem!reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond one eye #asoif/got #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #house of the dragon #hotd #game of thrones #ofwintersflame

371 notes · View notes

diejager · 7 months

Text

Nostalgia cw: smut, angst, tell me if I missed any. From Bittersweet Devotion.

“Oh, chica,” he whispered, biting back a moan that gripped his throat. “You look so pretty.”

He wore his heart on his sleeve, his love on his lips and his adoration in the warm, brown hues. Miguel was expressive, every smile, every glance and every touch from him exhumed love and devotion, like you hung the moon and stars. You couldn’t help but be addicted to him; you couldn’t help but give back how much he gave.

Miguel used to sing you poetic confessions, promising you a world of devotion. His fingers drawing stars on your skin, painting into the sky your love until they died, stars would live as long as it could. Even as small as it was, it could grow and grow, swelling with warmth until it reached the peak of it’s life.

For every soft thrust he made, you gave him a passionate, worshipping kiss; for every devoted kiss he chased, you gave him a poetic song, affectionate words and breathy moans; and for every promise of eternity he uttered, you returned them tenfold, giving him your infinity, you heart and your soul.

Had he lied then? When he promised you his infinity, his heart and his soul. Were the stars he strung up an illusion to appease your eyes? Were you something he kissed, touched and loved to replace what he lost? Then why were his cold eyes soft and loving, his touch so eloquently expressive like the way he spun his webs, his love so warm that it threatened to burn you at the seams?

“Only for you, Miguel,” you cried, finger digging into his chiseled back, drawing irritated lines on his beautiful, caramel skin.

You gave yourself to him too, your heart, your mind and your soul. We’re they not enough?

You felt so full, your cunt filled to the brim with him, his cock driving into you with passionate determination, coaxing orgasm after orgasm. With the roll of his hips, his strong thighs and narrow hips, he buried his throbbing shaft deeper by the second, his leaky head kissing the entrance of your womb; with his wandering hands, he drew up his gentleness over your skin, calloused fingers cradling your jaw and down your neck, pressing down on the sensitive nerves of your perky and swollen nipples before trailing down your navel to rub firm circles on your pulsing clit; and with the wet traces of his lips, nipping and sucking the warm skin of your throat with bruising marks, drawing your lips to his, he pulled outbursts of pleasure and words of devotions from you.

They weren’t that dissimilar to each other, they placed kisses on the same spot, drawing out loud moans and tearful whines from you. Every old bruise was covered by a new one, in the form of his teeth, in the form of his lips or in the form of his fingers. He had places he preferred, where he liked to sink his teeth into you and dig his talons into you. He was possessive to a fault, wanting to paint you black and blue with bruises from the simple act of letting someone touch you. He drove his cock downward, loving the control he had when you were bent over, face down and ass up, for him to mount and ravage. It was beautiful, feral in every aspect of a beast, but it was solely Miguel. He made you whimper and sob in the best ways, to submit yourself and let someone take care of you instead.

I love you, Miguel. You cried the words over and over to him. Once on his lips, a second time on his cheek, a third on his bulging adam’s apple, and a fourth at the edge of your high, falling from the climax he brought you.

I love you, Miggy. Those were the same words you told him as he sunk his fangs into the soft flesh of your shoulder. He wouldn’t say it back, but the tremble in his body and the little tears in his eyes were all you needed. Those crimson eyes that you loved so much softened in the face of your devotion, of your promise.

“I love you, chica.”

Taglist: @yas-v @elliewilliamsbae @rinieloliver

371 notes · View notes

atopvisenyashill · 4 months

Text

the really fun thing about braime is that they are both the beauty and the beast which means i can picture brienne OR jaime flopping down dramatically in a field somewhere and singing "and for once it might be grand to have someone understand i want so much more than they've got planned."

both of them can also do "if i can't have her" but different lines. brienne gets "and from my tortured shape no comfort, no escape i see, but deep within is utter blindness" and jaime gets "long ago i should have seen all the things i could have been careless and unthinking, i moved onward."

#that's my favorite line from the musical i even made a graphic for it. but that was for descendants not asoiaf or batb alkdsjf.#no not the george clooney movie the disney channel original master piece written by kenny ortega. it's one of my favorite graphics #bc i really managed to get hte coloring and sharpening right and it was hard af!! anyways.#alan menken and howard ashman the geniuses that you are [live action do NOT interact u homophobic binch]#also if u like disney pls go listen to howard ashman singing beauty and the beast. makes me weep.#getting on my soap box #braime #bittersweet beauty and the beast #i didn't help someone find batb today tho i helped them find sleeping beauty and the three little pigs but batb was right next to it.

47 notes · View notes

riddlerosehearts · 1 year

Photo

💙 Tale as old as time, tune as old as song. Bittersweet and strange, finding you can change, learning you were wrong. Certain as the sun rising in the east. Tale as old as time, song as old as rhyme, beauty and the beast.

872 notes · View notes

adastra121 · 2 months

Text

Touchstarved as Non/Disney Songs

Added the "non" part because some of these aren't Disney, but I still wanted to include them.

Kuras x MC= “So This is Love” (Cinderella) / “Looking Through Your Eyes” (Quest for Camelot) “I see the heavens each time that you smile…and suddenly I know why life is worthwhile,” “Here in the night, I see the sun.” I just think this is a sweet song for him.

Leander x MC= “I See the Light” (Tangled) / "Let Me Be Your Wings" (Thumbelina) "Anything that you desire, anything at all." That's basically what he says to us, isn't it?

Vere x MC= "Trust In Me" (The Jungle Book) You know that one ending in the demo? / “Love Will Find a Way” (Lion King 2) “There’s a perfect world shining in your eyes.”

Ais x MC= “Don’t Let Go” (Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron) I really just put this down here for the vibes. It reminds me of Ais. / “Candle on the Water” (Pete’s Dragon) I feel like if you put it in a minor key, it could give some unsettling Seaspring vibes.

Mhin x MC= “Beauty and the Beast” (Beauty and the Beast) "Bittersweet and strange, finding you can change, learning you were wrong…" / “I Won’t Say (I’m In Love)” (Hercules)

Sen x MC= "So Close" (Enchanted) “So close to feeling alive…” / "Ma Belle Evangeline” (The Princess and the Frog) "You're my queen of the night." Like her flower.

Elyon x MC= “For the Dancing and the Dreaming” (How to Train Your Dragon 2) "I have no use for rings of gold, I care not for your poetry, I only want your hand to hold." / "La Seine" (Un Monstre En Paris) I don’t know don’t know, so don’t ask me why. I just like to imagine him with it, maybe it gets performed in his brothel. “La Seine” is a homonym for “La Scène” in French, meaning the stage. The song could be about your love for the river in Paris, but when sung, it sounds like you’re talking about your love for the stage. For performance. And with his flower, the blue orchid, being a miniature performance in and of itself…

#kuras with old Hollywood style love songs is a good fit I think...#and also leander!#both of them have very nice old Hollywood vintage song vibes #touchstarved #touchstarved kuras #touchstarved leander #touchstarved vere #touchstarved ais #touchstarved mhin #touchstarved sen #touchstarved elyon #kuras x mc #leander x mc #vere x mc #ais x mc #mhin x mc #sen x mc #elyon x mc #please feel free to reblog or comment with more songs!

54 notes · View notes

mightymizora · 5 months

Text

hello new followers!

I've had a lot of new followers recently and I'm going to take this opportunity to plug my fics, because that's why I am here (between shitposts and rushed meta.) So! I'm going to do a game I've been threatening to do for a LONG time, and I'm going to invite other writers to do the same.

Rules are that you plug a handful of your fics from your current fandom(s), give a quick summary, and then put in 1-2 lines from comments as reviews. Because fuck it, self-promotion is fine actually.

The Portrait

BG3. 6.5k one shot, Enver Gortash/The Dark Urge. Lord Gortash requests a portrait of his paramour. The pay is good, the contract legitimate. It seems almost too good to be true... In pre-canon, a young artist takes a job from an upcoming player in Baldur's Gate society. "The voice was amazing, the descriptions are poignant without getting too far in the weeds, you show so much without telling explicitly." "if i could frame this fic and put it up on my wall, i would in a heartbeat! literally the definition of perfection"

Monster, Mine

BG3, 7k one shot. Enver Gortash/The Dark Urge. There is a beast haunting the city, and there is a tentative reaching of hands across the table. In pre-canon, Enver Gortash tries to find the truth of the Slayer. "This is a genuinely stunning piece of fiction." "Their poisonous codependency and joint descent into it is the absolute delight to read!"

Even if Love

BG3, 8k, short chapters. Multiple. Shades of love for The Dark Urge, Orin The Red, Enver Gortash, Wisteria Jannath, Sceleritas Fel, Kressa Bonedaughter, Lae'zel, Minthara Baenre, Sarevok Anchev and Araj Oblodra. Can be read individually, but they do build a narrative together. "it is a crime that AO3 only allows one kudos for a whole fic" "All so distinct and sharply observed, and such gorgeous writing throughout!"

Blood and Bone, Bone and Blood

BG3. 3.5K one shot. Ketheric Thorm/The Dark Urge A collection of moments between Bhaal and Myrkul’s chosen as they are bound together with Gortash as the chosen of the Dead Three. "It simply drips with style. Gorgeous prose." "Feral about this fic"

The First Leaf on the Tree after Winter

BG3. 9k, multi-chapter. Halsin/Jaheira. Background Wyll/Karlach. Their time was a century before, she thinks. What can they be, these old souls rooted in their ways, these observers of the world, these failed heroes? "All the kudos here. The ultimate kudos. Oh I really loved this." "I reached the end with a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes. so bittersweet and beautiful. I adore every word."

Breath and Rosewater

BG3, 20k, multi-chapter ongoing. Gale/Tav She has always loved music for many reasons; the patterns that present themselves, and the sheer joy of playing. Working out the fingering, and bringing joy to others. The breath before the first note. The freedom that comes from following your heart and letting it soar. He has always loved magic for every reason; the study of it, the power in it. The quiet contemplation of hours of learning, the thrill of application on the battlefield, and off of it. The understanding that comes from complete control of your craft. "most well-constructed intro paragraph that i've read in awhile—we get such a strong sense of glim, her expertise, her pride in her art, in just four sentences." "Oh this whole thing is so beautiful. i adore your prose."

#long post #bg3 #enver gortash #the dark urge #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #ketheric thorm #jaheira #halsin #orin the red #sceleritas fel #wisteria jannath #lae'zel #kressa bonedaughter #I'm gonna come tag people to do this one day lmao

84 notes · View notes

daisybianca · 1 year

Text

pairing: lando norris x femalereader

summary: your boyfriend adores disney movies. what happens when you decide to have a marathon with him, even though you know he will spoil every single one of the movies and ruin it for you?

warnings: just fluff, slight angst

"AND THEN MOANA finds out that her destiny isn’t waiting for her it’s insi-- Oof!" Lando whispered into your ear, only to be smacked right smack dab in the middle of his face with a pillow.

"Lando! Stop! You’ve done this many times before and it’s getting annoying." You fumed.

It was a kind of bittersweet situation dating the famous F1 driver. He was super sweet and everything anyone would want in a boyfriend. Except that he couldn’t keep his mouth shut when it came to Disney movies.

You planned a whole week of watching your favorite Disney movies.

Monday was Snow White; a classic.

Tuesday was Mulan, because of obvious reasons.

You let Lando pick on Wednesday. And of course, he picked the one and only: The Little Mermaid, his favorite.

Thursday was going to be Beauty and the Beast because Lando had managed to spoil every single one you suggested previously.

It’s not that you hadn't already watched these movies. It’s just that while you did, your boyfriend kept interrupting the movie to tell you what was about to happen. One of your greatest pet peeves.

Just before you two started ‘Moana’, you cautioned him.

"You better not spoil any of this movie."

"But I can’t help it!" Lando whined. "I’m pretty sure I’ll combust or something if I don’t, baby!"

‘Nope! No buts. Or spoilers! Promise?’

All you heard was a weak fine.

You two set up your movie necessities. Lando rested his head on your lap while you had one hand stroking his hair and the other in the popcorn bucket.

Almost halfway into the movie, Lando broke his promise. "Hey, baby! Here’s the part where she meets Maui, a demigod. But they split up because he’s kind of bitter at first. But then they become a team."

"LANDO. COME ON." You groaned as you threw your head back on the couch.

He was so childish sometimes. You wanted to start throwing heavy stuff at him.

"Sorry." He replied sheepishly.

But was he really?

With a smug smirk plastered all over his face, he proceeded to spoil the rest of the movie.

Finally on your last straw, you devised a plan to finally shut him up.

"And then they return the st-" But before he could finish his sentence, you snuck up on him and kissed him.

Due to the kiss, his brain short-circuited so his first instinct was to kiss back. Putting his hands around your waist, he moaned into the kiss.

Then you suddenly broke off the kiss, leaving him with a deep pout on his lips.

"Why’d ya stop?" His accent appeared.

"Oh, the kiss? That was only to stop you from spoiling the rest of the movie. Smart idea, right?’

"Definitely, baby." Murmured Lando as he took your chin in his hands and brought you closer so he could taste you again. "Absolutely."

●○•°•○●

requests are always open for my wags <3

411 notes · View notes

munsons-maiden · 2 years

Text

𝐀 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐎𝐟 𝐆𝐨𝐝𝐬 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬

Here’s the Orpheus & Eurydice AU oneshot I promised - it’s angst WITH a happy ending though because Eddie Munson deserves all the happy endings. I hope you enjoy it! - Love, Kiki ♡

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Eddie Munson x female reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | With the love of your life dead in your arms and your heart shattered to pieces, you’re ready to make that deal with God and swap places. Everything to bring Eddie back. But the only God in this dark place, frozen in time and filled with monsters, is not a benevolent one. And when you agree to his deal to play the game of gods and monsters and bring Eddie back, you know you it might be a losing game. You heard that story before - and it never has a happy ending. Now it’s on you to trick the fates and rewrite Eddie’s stars.

Inspired by this ask I got ♡

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 | angst with a happy ending, a bit of smut

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 7k

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | death but not permanent (I mean he has to die first if we want to bring him back from the dead), angst with a happy ending, canon-typical violence, contains traces of SMUT as a treat (not explicit but definitely implied so 18+ only please!)

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭.

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 & 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝, 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 ♡

*whispers* This is for you, Eddie.

You’d known you were too late when you raced towards the swarm of bats pouncing from the sky, a maelstrom of wings and talons and teeth, the air pierced by their blood-curdling shrieks – and Eddie’s scream.

A battle cry fading into a howl of pain that bled into the air.

You’d known you were too late when you finally reached him, tearing and ripping at the beasts pinning him to the ground, devouring him alive while the first of them started to falling from the skies.

Known you were too late when you fell to your knees with a cry of his name, and his dark eyes found yours.

When flashes of lightning bled through the thunderclouds above to paint the skies a deep, dark crimson. The same deep, dark crimson that bloomed on the white fabric of Eddie’s Hellfire shirt, like red roses on fresh snow.

Running from his lips as Eddie’s dark eyes found yours while you pressed your hands over his wounds, a desperate attempt to staunch the bleeding, buy more time –

But there were too many wounds.

Too much blood.

Coating your hands, sticky and warm like the tears that ran down your cheeks as you whispered, “It’s okay. It’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.”

It wouldn’t. He wouldn’t.

You both knew it.

The smile curving Eddie’s blood-smeared lips was a real one. Sad and proud and loving and bittersweet all at the same time. It was an unspoken farewell.

“I didn’t run this time,” he breathed.

It took everything in you to suppress the sob clawing at your throat. “No. No, you didn’t. You’re a hero, Eddie.”

“Told ya it’s gonna be my year.”

“It is. It is, okay?”, you breathed, “It’ll be. It will –“

“When you walk that stage…,” Eddie choked, “And grab your diploma…flip Higgins the bird for me, yeah?”

“You’ll flip him the bird yourself, Eddie. When…when you snatch your own diploma, okay? You’re gonna do it, and then we’re going to run like Hell out of there. Out of this fucking school, this fucking town. Just…away. Together.”

“Hey, sweetheart?”

The sob ripped free at the sound of the term of endearment, so beautifully familiar. “Yeah?”

“I love you. You know that, right?”, Eddie whispered, and the tenderness in his gaze even in death was so him, so Eddie, “I always loved you. It’s always been you.”

“Please don’t say goodbye, Eddie,” you whimpered, the flood of tears choking you, “Please. You…I need you to stay with me. Okay? Stay with me. Stay with me –“

But like the flame of a candle snuffed out by the wind, the light vanished from Eddie’s beautiful umber eyes, still trained on you as if he’d wanted to make sure you’d be the last thing he would see.

For a heartbeat, time froze.

The world stood still as more and more of the bats fell from the skies, hailing down all around you, the whirr of their wings and the thuds of their bodies hitting the ground the only sound to fill the silence.

And something broke.

Shattered.

Deep within your chest, your heart, your very soul.

It took you a moment to realize that the anguished scream piercing the cold air of this forlorn realm was your own.

Because the moment the life had been snuffed out of Eddie’s eyes, stolen, his body going limp in your arms…everything in you turned as cold and dark and dead as this realm around you.

You didn’t feel the cold anymore, the pain in your own body where the dying creatures had hacked teeth and claws into your own skin as you’d started to rip them away from Eddie. You didn’t care anymore why they were dying, or what would happen to Hawkins. To the rest of the world.

Why would you? A world without Eddie was as empty and forlorn as this one.

With the blur of tears veiling your vision, Eddie’s limp form in your arms and his blood coating your hands, you squeezed your eyes shut.

“You took him.” Your voice was broken, barely a whisper, while the shards of your shattered heart were piercing and tearing at your insides as everything in you was falling apart. The words weren’t a plea, but a command as you breathed, “Take me too.”

You waited.

For your bones to snap like twigs.

For the God of this forsaken realm to claim you like he’d claimed the love of your life.

The bats kept falling from the skies, fewer and fewer of them, their tails trailing behind them like lonely paper streamers at the end of a party.

The spores kept floating through the air, like the slow flurry of snow trapped in a snow globe, with you sobbing over Eddie’s body, a nightmare forever frozen in time behind polished glass.

But Vecna didn’t deign to take you as well, out of this world that had lost all its light and all its reasons to be saved because it had turned into a world without Eddie, without his sunshine smiles and warmth and kindness, his singing and his weirdness and his laughter.

The tears kept falling from your eyes while your body went numb with the agony of your overwhelming grief as you bent over, your forehead resting against Eddie’s, and wept.

For the boy who’d always fought the odds with the cards the fates had dealt him.

Who’d chosen kindness over and over again when it would have been so much easier to let the scorn and bullying he’d faced for being different turn his heart hard and cold.

Who’d dreamed of leaving this small-minded little town behind with you. Of walking that stage, and finally snatching that diploma.

For the boy you’d always love more than everything in this world.

You’d sell your soul to turn back the clocks, to unravel the tapestry of time, grasp the frayed ends and weave the threads back together into a happy ending.

Or simply to rewind time like a VHS tape, and press pause in one of the countless happy moments. Maybe to be frozen in a tiny little snow globe world wasn’t bad if the moment was a good one.

And there had been so, so many good ones.

You would have followed Eddie Munson out of this cursed town. You’d have followed him everywhere.

You didn’t know how long you’d wept – but it couldn’t have been long. Eddie’s blood had yet to dry on your hands, the warmth yet to fad e from his skin.

And with grim determination, at the frayed dark edges of the grief pulling you under, an idea took root in your mind.

The lyrics of Max’s song echoed through your memory.

And if I only could make deal with God, I’d get him to swap our places.

You would. Without a second of hesitation. Trade your soul for Eddie’s, bring him back, put the life back into his beautiful umber eyes.

If only there was a god.

If only, among all the monsters, there was a god who would listen.

But…there was.

You just needed to make him hear you.

Grim determination flooding you, you slowly raised your head.

Eddie’s gaze, unseeing, was trained on the skies above, the ghost of his smile lingering on his blood-stained lips. His dark hair formed a midnight-black halo around his head, the white particles settling in his curls like tiny snowflakes. Like stars in a night sky.

“No matter how this story ends…I will always, always love you, Eddie Munson,” you breathed, before you leaned down to place one last kiss on his forehead, the soft curls spilling from the black bandana tickling your cheeks.

And with all this love and grief flooding you, sweeping you away, a newfound determination, grim and fierce, blazed through your veins as you slowly rose to your feet.

Where you would go, you couldn’t take him.

Your voice was steeled with the force of your blinding wrath at the unfairness of it all, of loss and grief and that wild, desperate flutter of hope as it rang through the still air of this dark place.

“VECNA! COME AND GET ME!”

The bats had stopped falling.

There was no wind in the air, no noise apart from the thunder in the distance, crimson lightning bleeding through the clouds, the exact shade as Eddie’s blood coating your hands, slowly drying.

“DO YOU HEAR ME?! COME AND GET ME, YOU FUCKING SON OF A BITCH!”

You grabbed the discarded makeshift-spear from the ground. It had fallen out of Eddie’s grip when the bats had sunken their teeth into his skin, forced him down.

“IS THAT ALL YOU CAN DO?!”, you screamed into this frozen void. You didn’t care if it would draw in more monsters. You didn’t care for the monsters of this realm anymore – all you wanted was to face their god. “IS THAT IT?! SENDING YOUR BEASTS WHILE YOU STAY IN HIDING LIKE A FUCKING COWARD?! COME AND FIGHT ME!”

You felt him before you saw him.

There was a shift in the air like ripples across a lake, raising the hair on your necks, a tingle like a swarm of spiders skittering down along your spine.

Max had described him to all of you, after she’d escaped him in the graveyard.

Rotten flesh, covered by writhing creeping vines.

Eyes as cold as the realm he’d made his home.

But nothing could have prepared you for the sight in front of you as you whirled around, your fist tightening around the makeshift-spear – because the eyes staring back at you weren’t the icy blue you’d come to expect.

They were dark, a beautiful, familiar shade of umber so opposing to the hollow coldness within them, sharp and hard as the edge of a knife. So out of place in Eddie’s eyes.

“No,” you breathed, shrinking back, away from this monster which dared to wear the face of the love it had just ripped from you.

“Is this not what you wanted, girl?”

The voice filling the air as he spoke wasn’t Eddie’s. It was the thunder in the bleeding crimson skies and the shriek of distant monsters in the air. It was the writhing of creeping vines on the ground, the vibration of the earth; an echo of a thousand voices that had become one.

He wasn’t here, not really. You knew how you looked like right now, outside of this illusion Vecna was creating – your body rigid, eyes white, frozen in place beside Eddie’s lifeless form on the cold ground. You’d seen it once, when he’d nearly gotten Max.

Vecna tilted his head, his face – the face he’d stolen – a frozen mask as white spores settled in his dark curls, the lack of light turning the dark chocolate brown into a deep inky black; curls you’d run your hands through countless times, playing with the strands, Eddie’s head in your lap as he read The Lord Of The Rings to you. Curls tangling around your fingers as you drew him closer to deepen a kiss, to whisper confessions of love.

Bile rose in your throat, bitter and burning and acidic, at the cruelty of Vecna’s mask.

Eddie’s eyes – but void of the warmth and kindness and humor they’d been brimming with. Eddie’s lips, void of the tender smile which had always played them when he’d looked at you.

Vecna had taken what you loved the most and twisted it into a nightmare to drive the blade deeper into an already fatal wound, simply because he could.

He was watching you; that predatory, icy gleam shining so horribly misplaced in Eddie’s gentle eyes that you wanted to break down and weep all over again.

“I want him back,” you breathed. “Take me instead. I won’t fight you. I won’t try to escape. Give him back, and I’ll follow you willingly.”

Vecna stepped closer, the expression in his eyes the sharp gleam of a bird of prey ready to pounce, to hack its talons into his squealing, writhing prey as he drew every last drop of anguish from their minds, feeding on their pain like a leech sucking blood.

Your grip around the makeshift spear was so tight that you feared your knuckles might pop with the strain as you refused to shy away any farther.

“I have no need for you to follow me willingly. I can take whatever I want to take.”

Vecna’s hand came up, slowly – the gesture of someone who knew he had all the time in the world – and nausea churned in your guts as the pad of his thumb caught one of your tears, his eyes, these beautiful dark eyes stolen from Eddie, locked firmly on yours.

“You already have,” you whispered. “You can’t take anything else from me because you’ve already taken everything. And I’ll take it back.”

I ran, Max’s words echoed in your mind. I ran, and then I was in that…that place. Where he’d put all the others before me.

Every realm had its god, and every Underworld its king. And every king…had a castle. You only needed to find it.

With a swift motion, you thrust out the spear, the red face of the demon glaring on his Hellfire Club shirt turning into the bulls-eye for your blade.

And with Vecna’s howl – not of pain but fury – booming through the air, you whirled around and ran.

Stumbling over writhing vines, not looking back whether Vecna was following behind, you raced into the looming woods at the edge of the trailer park, towards the fog in the distance, the crimson light seeping through the swirls and wisps like blood.

And when you reached it, hands outstretched, the edge of this illusion Vecna had created in your mind, the ground shifted, sending you stumbling to the floor, the skin on your palms tearing open as you caught yourself and pushed back to your feet to face your new surroundings.

It was just like Max had described. Crimson light, the hollow, distorted ticking of a clock, floating debris. The door with the red flowers made of stained glass like a heart at the center of Vecna’s lair.

Doors and stairs leading into nowhere.

Pillars reaching into the low, crimson skies – and on these pillars…

Vecna’s victims.

All of them.

Their bodies disfigured, limbs broken; hollow sockets where their eyes had been, mouths agape in frozen screams, forever muted in death. Like a horrid assortment of butterflies, their fragile wings pinned and preserved beneath eternal glass cases to decorate a lepidopterist’s walls.

That’s what Vecna was.

A collector of souls and horror.

The scream lodged at the back of your throat ripped free to form his name, Eddie’s name, as you fought for your feet to move, fought your body’s urge to bend over and retch as if somehow, magically, it would chase the cruel images away.

But there was no time.

And so, you stood still, feet anchored to the ground as you spun in a slow circle, eyes scanning the collection of horrors preserved all around you.

The Creels; mother and daughter side by side. Chrissy and Fred and Patrick.

And –

“Eddie.”

Your voice was less than a whisper as you stumbled the last few steps towards him, tears streaming down your eyes in hot rivulets as you reached him.

Eddie was bound to the pillar closest to the solitary stained-glass door; thick, writing creepers wrapped around his wrists to hold him in place, curling around his throat in a deadly chokehold.

Another beautiful butterfly trapped in Vecna’s collection.

But unlike the others, Eddie’s limbs weren’t broken; his eyes not amiss but closed, his features serene as his dark curls spilled around his face. A horrid, twisted version of sleeping beauty.

And in this story, true love might not be be enough to break the curse.

“Eddie,” you breathed, your hands reaching out, thumbs caressing his cheeks. “Eddie, I’m here. I’m going to get you out of here. Just hold on. Hold on a bit longer. Please, please hold on, do you hear me?”

There was the softest of flutters of his eyelids, fleeting and ephemeral enough to make you wonder if you’d simply imagined it.

With a barely suppressed howl of rage, you ripped at the vines around Eddie’s throat, tearing them away as your fingertips dug into the gooey black tissue of the creepers.

They came away writhing and hissing, their black blood seeping over your hands, mingling with the crimson stains of Eddie’s blood on your palms as screeches and hisses rose like a chorus of echoes in the air.

He knew. If Vecna hadn’t already known you were here, he would, now.

And time was running out like sand slipping through your fingers.

One by one, the vines came away beneath your hands, revealing angry red marks crisscrossing the pale skin of Eddie’s neck that only fueled your rage, this blinding, white-hot wrath that felt like it was burning you alive.

You wanted to hurt Vecna, hurt every last thing in this forsaken realm.

When the last of the creepers around Eddie’s throat came lose, his head lolled forward, against your shoulder, and a tremor ran through his body as you moved on to free his wrists, the black blood of the vines cold as it ran over your down your arms while you dug your nails into the creepers to shred them beneath your hands like paper.

It was easy, you realized when they came loose, Eddie’s wrists slipping free as he fell forwards, a limp weight in your arms.

Too easy.

“Do you truly think you can save him?”

There was mock in Vecna’s voice as it boomed through the air from behind you while you sunk to your knees in an attempt to support Eddie’s weight, keep him from falling over as, with a weak susurration, Eddie pleaded, “Go. Leave.”

“Not without you.”

Eddie’s hands came up to cradle your face, his skin cool, colder with every second that ticked by as the life drained out of him, and the tears – of despair, this time – started flowing as he rested his forehead against yours.

“I didn’t die for you to die for me, ya know,” he breathed, his nose brushing against yours as his eyes – his eyes, so warm and gentle and brimming with love – found yours, the ghost of his old humor laced in his voice. “Go. Live.”

“Not without you,” you echoed your own words once more.

Vecna’s chuckle rose in the air like a horrid echo. “You are a fighter for sure.”

A cry ripped from you as something cold and wet wrapped around your left ankle, dragging you backwards, away from Eddie as Vecna mused, “Stay with me, and you stay with him.”

“No,” Eddie’s weak whisper floated through the air as he reached out for you, a desperate attempt to grab you as he sunk to the ground, his mess of black curls spilling around his pale features.

You fought with every last ounce of strength left in you, every remaining dreg of willpower as you thrashed against Vecna’s creepers as they curled around your ankles, your wrists, pulling you away from Eddie and backwards to one of the still empty pillars, rendering you so utterly, utterly helpless as desperate sobs ripped from your throat.

Not for yourself, but for Eddie, cowering on the ground.

“Your suffering,” Vecna droned, stepping closer, the façade of his stolen face crumbling, the pale skin on his cheeks rotting away to reveal tendons and muscle beneath as those stolen umber eyes watched you intently while he drew closer, a predator stalking its prey, “Is almost at an end.”

The vines had reached your throat, cold and slippery, squeezing as your back met the pillar while Vecna’s mask melted away, wilted away, his form decaying in a gruesome, cruel promise of what would happen to Eddie’s body if your desperate attempt to save him failed.

And failing, it was.

Once again, Vecna’s hand found its way to your face, a long, sharp fingernail dragging along the side of your cheek, tracing the glittering streaks of tears as Eddie hissed, “Stay. Away. From her.”

Over Vecna’s shoulder, you could see how Eddie fought himself to his knees, ringed fingers digging into the dirt for purchase as he pushed himself off the ground with every last ounce of strength left in him while the creepers and your own tears choked your voice.

“Don’t try to put up a fight you cannot win, boy,” Vecna crooned, his eyes still watching you and his voice almost gentle as his other hand raised in the air, a flick of his index finger enough to make more creepers sprout from the ground, wrap around Eddie’s ankles to rip him off his feet again – but Eddie didn’t surrender. His dark eyes locked on you, the bandana slipping off his head to release the mess of his wild curls as he struggled and fought against the creepers, he hissed, “I said. Don’t. Touch. Her. You ugly. Fucking. Boogeyman.”

For a split second…Vecna flinched as Eddie called him Boogeyman. As if the insult had actually hit home.

Of course it had, it dawned on you.

All this doling out judgement, deciding who lived and who died, his message for the little girl which had defeated and banished him here – in his own eyes, Vecna was the god of this mirror realm as much as he was in yours.

A banished god, but a god nonetheless.

And if the stories humankind had been telling since the beginning of history had taught you one thing…it was that gods got bored.

Before the creepers slithering up your throat, your chin, could reach your lips to mute you, you spat, “Let’s play a game.”

Your eyes found Vecna’s, icy blue seeping through the warm umber of his irises as his mask kept melting away.

“I don’t play games.”

“Don’t you get bored?”, you choked out, the creepers’ grip around your throat tightening further, “Banished by a little girl. Banished over and over again. Don’t you want revenge? Don’t you want to hurt us all for what we keep doing to you?”

“Yup, um,” Eddie choked, “Sweetheart…you’re not…helping –“

“I am hurting you right now,” Vecna crooned, Eddie’s voice dying with the tightening of creepers around his throat, and rage burned in your chest as Vecna dragged the back of his index finger along your jaw.

“Not as much as you could,” you breathed, oxygen running out. You could see the gleam of cruelty, of interest, in those eyes, fully blue now, like a lake frozen in eternal winter. He was listening.

You needed to make it count.

“Let us go,” you forced out, “And see how far we can run. If you’re as powerful as you think you are – there’s nothing left for you to lose and a lot of entertainment to win.”

The smirk playing on this creature’s rotting lips was sickening, when he crooned his reply. “I have a better idea.”

You waited for the vines to squeeze your windpipe, throttle you, snap your bones – but their grip…loosened.

You fell to the ground, on your knees in front of Vecna’s decaying, mutated form, your teeth gritted as a claw-tipped index finger locked underneath your chin, tilting your head up to force you to meet his cold eyes when he drawled, “You wanted to make a deal. To stay with me in his stead.”

“Yes,” you whispered.

“NO!”, Eddie howled, but the vines clamped over his mouth, his eyes wide as tears of panic and terror and despair streamed down his face, smearing the soot and the blood on his cheeks.

“Here is my deal, girl,” Vecna cooed. “Run. Run away and leave him here with me and don’t look back. Not once. If you look back before you’ve reached the edge of my realm, I will keep both of you. If you don’t, and if you make it past my army – I will give him back to you.”

You knew what Vecna was doing. You knew the story and you knew it didn’t have a happy ending.

A tale as old as time.

“How do I know you’ll keep your word?”, you hissed.

Vecna tilted his head, the skin on his cheek shriveling away with the movement to reveal pale bone and teeth beneath.

“You won’t. I might be many things – but I am no liar. But you better hurry if you want to save him,” Vecna droned, trailing his finger down your throat, over the vines that heeded his command, loosening, slithering down to the ground, “Because time is running out. There is only so much even I can do when a heart has ceased beating for long enough.”

With these parting words hanging in the air of his lair, Vecna stepped away from you, and the rest of the vines retreated to set you free.

As if on cue, there was a last deep, distorted tick of the grandfather clock floating in the distance.

With a last glance at Eddie, his eyes screaming at you to run, you did exactly that.

You turned heel, and you ran.

At first, nothing happened.

You’d anticipated monsters, another swarm of bats, vines, something.

The absence of all these things could only mean that Vecna had something else in store for you.

Something worse than his vines and his monsters.

But the one thing you could do right now was continue to run.

And you did.

Breaking through the wall of mist, you were back in the woods, beneath the crimson thunderclouds glaring through the naked branches of the trees, your pants echoing through the air as your legs carried you faster than you’d ever run, the edge of the woods already in sight –

A scream pierced the air. Laced with raw, primal anguish.

Eddie’s scream, calling out for you.

You froze dead in your tracks.

A trick. It was a trick. Eddie was with Vecna. Eddie was still there, left behind because that was the deal, and this was nothing but a trick to make you turn around and lose the bargain.

To condemn Eddie and yourself to eternal Hell in Vecna’s lair.

A second scream rang through the air of the woods, even more tormented than the first one.

“HE TRICKED YOU! VECNA TRICKED YOU!”

No. No, he didn’t. He couldn’t –

Why couldn’t he?

It was the game of gods and monsters you were playing.

You’d left Eddie behind, in this horrible place, among the rotting souls of Vecna’s victims, his collection of butterflies, all for a monster’s promise?

“MAKE IT STOP!”, Eddie’s screams filled the air, “PLEASE! PLEASE MAKE HIM STOP! HELP ME!”

“It’s a trick,” you whimpered. You knew the story. Vecna sure as Hell knew it, too. Orpheus turns, Eurydice stays damned, they both die in the end.

But these screams, the pictures they painted in your mind…they were made from the fabric of nightmares.

He had Eddie. He still had your sweet, gentle Eddie, locked up in this place of horrors.

And with a glance at the trailer park in the distance, the trailers dark silhouettes against the crimson skies, you realized that Vecna hadn’t needed to trick you. You’d done that all on your won.

Because of course you were still trapped in Vecna’s vision.

Without music.

Oh god.

In all your grief and despair, so hellbent on bringing Eddie back…not once had you thought about bringing yourself back as well.

You didn’t have music to break the curse. And Dustin – Dustin was with the others, having sought them out because you and Eddie had sent him there, out of harm’s way.

There was no one left to put a pair of headphones over your ears.

And Vecna had known it all along.

That’s why he’d agreed.

It had been a losing game all along.

“No,” you whispered, slowly sinking to your knees while the tears started falling again, Eddie’s screams filling the air, and your hands pressed over your eyes as if there was any chance to keep the flood of images at bay of all the horrible things Vecna could be doing to Eddie right now, doing to him because you’d left him there. “No, no, nonononono NO! STOP!”

But it didn’t stop.

“MAKE IT STOP!”, Eddie’s scream laced with your own, “PLEASE! PLEASE MAKE IT STOP! HELP ME! PLEASE, COME BACK!”

Your head snapped up at these words, breath catching in your throat.

These screams couldn’t belong to Eddie.

It was his voice, but these weren’t his words – because Eddie wouldn’t scream for you to come back. No matter the torture Vecna could concoct for him, Eddie would want you to run, to leave him in that place, because he’d wanted you safe. That’s why he’d cut the rope, had darted out of the safety of the trailer and right into certain death to buy more time. Not for the others, but for you.

Which meant Vecna was trying to trick you right now.

Which, again, meant he knew there was a way out, other than with music.

A hidden path to break the spell from within.

And he was distracting you so you wouldn’t find it.

Hands pressing over your ears to drown out the screams, your mind was going a mile a minute.

What had Max told you?

The red realm, the pillars, Vecna’s victims. The remains of Creel House, the floating clock, the light seeping through the red petals of the flowers in the stained-glass window.

Music, Kate Bush’s voice ripping the fabric of Vecna’s curse, opening a window back to reality.

I thought of when I was happy.

Happy.

Happy memories.

If Max was sure she could hide in a happy memory – maybe a happy memory would be the key to unlock the door even without music.

Your eyes squeezing shut, the screams that weren’t Eddie’s in the air, you thought of him.

How you’d always watched him in English Lit class, the movement of his hands as he drew little doodles to the pages of his books, all over his notes. Bats and guitars and random chords, little demon faces and monsters. Admiring him from afar, this dangerous looking guy with the mane of dark curls that wasn’t black but the soft brown of dark chocolate, with his tattoos and rings and ripped jeans and leather jacket, the guy most people steered well clear of because he was a freak dealing drugs.

How one day, he’d caught you watching him in class – and had given you the most timid yet dazzling smile you’d ever seen.

How with that first smile, you’d known you’d fall for him.

How, a few days later, there had been a little doodle of a vampire bat waving a wing in greeting slipped through the slits in your locker door, the word “hi” scrawled at the bottom with black sharpie. The answering “hi” with a rendition of a waving bat of your own you’d slipped through his locker door – and all the little doodles and notes which had followed.

The first time these clandestinely swapped slips of paper had turned into a real conversation.

Fleeting touches and lingering glances, until one day, there had been one of his doodles of a bat playing the guitar, with a note inviting you to one of his band’s gigs at The Hideout.

The first kiss in the moonlight outside of the bar, and all the kisses since.

Eddie Munson, who was your first kiss, your first love, your first everything, and who’d always be the last because you knew with all your heart that there never could be anyone you loved as much as you loved Eddie.

And with this burst of happiness as these memories flitted to you, like a swarm of fireflies lighting up this eternal night of pain and grief and loss and fear, you grabbed one.

The newest one.

Yesterday night.

His dark curls were tousled, even messier than usual with the way you’d raked your hand through the soft strands as he’d kissed you, both of you breathless. A fresh wave of need flooded you as Eddie’s fingertips wandered down along your spine, the warm, smooth metal of his rings a beautiful contrast to his hands, calloused from years and years of playing his guitar.

His breath ghosted over your collarbone to elicit sparks in its wake; your body turned into a live wire beneath his caresses as his soft lips trailed kisses down the column of your throat. Another moan tumbled from your lips, and you could feel his smile against your sweat-soaked skin as you mused, “Don’t you think they’ll know what’s up if we stay away any longer?”

Eddie chuckled, the sound vibrating through your body with a pleasant shiver that seemed to travel straight to your core, stoking the need for him once more. God, you would never get enough of this. Of him. All of him.

“We’re a couple,” Eddie breathed, teeth grazing the sensitive skin above your racing pulse point as he pressed closer against you, his thigh creating enough friction against your heat to send your senses spinning all over again, and one of his hands came up to gently tilt your chin, granting him even better access to the sensitive skin below your ear. “We snuck away half an hour ago. I’m pretty sure they know exactly what we’re doing.”

“Have been doing.”

“Are still doing,” he corrected mischievously.

“Is this a radio show or a secret make-out session?”, you teased, and Eddie snickered in reply, before he pulled back to rest his forehead against yours, those beautiful umber eyes brimming with warmth, his pupils still dilated with arousal as he whispered, “I love you, sweetheart. You know that, right?”

“I love you too,” you breathed, and Eddie’s expression changed as he saw the tears brimming in your own eyes, his hands coming up to gently cup your face.

“What is it?”, he asked softly. His voice was a dark croon, still laced with his afterglow, his breathing ragged, “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’m scared. I’m so fucking scared to lose you, Eddie.”

He squeezed his eyes shut as he nodded, overwhelmed with his own emotions as your words burst the happy little bubble the two of you had created, reality catching up with you again. Of the plan for tomorrow. And the thoughts of everything that could go wrong.

“I can’t lose you,” you whispered, your voice breaking with the strain of tears.

“You won’t,” Eddie crooned. His breath was warm as it fanned over your lips, his scent wrapping around you like a blanket. “I promise you won’t.”

“You can’t promise that.”

There was a beat of silence, before Eddie’s hands left your cheeks and he reached up to remove his necklace, a few stray curls tangling in the tiny links as he pulled it over his head.

“Wait, let me –“ you breathed, already moving to help untangle the strands from the necklace, “What are you even doing?”

The last few of his curls were freed beneath your fingertips, and with another of his sunshine-smiles, Eddie gently put the necklace over your head, the guitar pick dangling from the band warm against the skin below your collarbone as your hand flew up you grasp it, eyes widening in surprise.

“You –“

“Keep it safe for me, sweetheart, will ya?”, Eddie smiled softly, pulling you closer before he nuzzled his nose against yours. “And when we’re out of there, safe and sound, and that goddamn son of a bitch is six feet under, you can give it back.”

The lump in your throat was growing, throttling you. “And what if we don’t?”

The expression in Eddie’s dark eyes was stern when he breathed, “Then you’ll have to find me in the next life to give it back.”

“I can do that. I’ll find you in every life. I will always, always love you, Eddie Munson.”

“Good,” he replied, the softest of smiles on his lips as he gently tilted your head, “Because you won’t get rid of me again, sweetheart. Promise.”

And his lips met yours, to kiss away the fear and the sorrows once again.

Tears running down your face, your hand flew up, fingers wrapping around Eddie’s guitar pick charm resting over your heart, its surface smooth and warm against your skin, love flooding every cell of your body, every corner of your soul, like sunlight piercing through thunderclouds.

And when you lifted your head, it was there, at the edge of the woods, where the trees stopped and the trailer park began.

A rip in the fabric of Vecna’s curse.

The way out.

The screams that weren’t Eddie’s behind you, you climbed to your feet and started to run.

You didn’t turn around.

You were winning, you realized as you drew closer, your ragged breaths filling the air, blood rushing in your ears.

You were winning this twisted game of gods and monsters.

There, beyond the veil of Vecna’s curse, was your silhouette, still as a statue, head raised to the skies. And there was Eddie, his lifeless body on the ground beside you, his heart still as frozen and still as this cursed mirror realm.

Not much longer.

You were close, so close –

There was a shriek in the air, blood-curdling and high-pitched, a million voices forming one.

And then they were upon you.

Bats; hundreds and hundreds of them.

A sea of claws and wings and teeth.

You screamed as they reached you, leathery wings slapping your face, talons scratching and tearing at every inch of your skin, drawing blood, pain shooting through your body as you fought to keep going, to keep pushing forwards.

This was what it had felt like for Eddie, you realized. The last minutes of his life.

Panic and pain, drowning in a sea of monsters because he wanted to draw them away from you.

Only that for him, it had been real while this, right now, was nothing but an illusion.

They weren’t real.

They couldn’t kill you.

Only Vecna could do that.

With a howl of fury and anguish, you darted forwards, towards the rip, towards Eddie, the real Eddie.

Who needed you to run.

To make it, for the both of you, before he was so far gone that not even Vecna could bring him back.

A final cry ripping from the back of your throat, you leapt through the torn, frayed edges of Vecna’s spell.

With a gasp, your eyes flew open the moment your knees hit the ground, hands splayed in the dirt to catch your fall, body racked by tremors as you fought for your lungs to fill with the Upside Down’s toxic air.

The bats were gone, vanished. So were the screams.

You’d made it. You’d actually made it.

“EDDIE!”, you cried out, voice breaking as you scrambled to your feet, towards his lifeless form.

“Eddie”, you sobbed, falling to your knees beside him, your hands shooting out to grasp his shoulders, shaking him slightly, “I made it out. You need to wake up now, okay? You gotta wake up.”

Any second now. He would tilt his head and smile at you and everything would be okay, the rip in your own chest mended, the pain chased away by joy.

You waited.

For Eddie’s chest to rise with an intake of breath.

For the warmth and light and life to return to his umber eyes.

For his lips to tug into one of his sunshine-smiles as he realized that you’d done it, that you’d brought him back.

But nothing happened.

His chest didn’t move.

His umber eyes stayed fixed on the bleeding skies, hollow and unseeing and dull.

“Eddie?”, you breathed. Pleaded. “Eddie, you need to wake up.”

You shuffled closer, your hands running through his dark curls, the strands coated with dried blood as you cradled his head, the pad of your thumb caressing his cheek to swipe away some of the soot and dried blood.

His skin was cold beneath your touch.

“Wake up, Eddie. Wake up. Come back –“

But he didn’t.

It felt like breaking all over again.

Your head thrown back, you screamed at the skies, voice shrill as it rang through this eerie new quiet.

“YOU PROMISED! YOU PROMISED TO BRING HIM BACK YOU SON OF A BITCH!”

There is only so much even I can do when a heart has ceased beating for long enough.

You’d been too late, you realized.

And Eddie…he would stay in this horrible place.

Alone and scared, another beautiful dead butterfly pinned to Vecna’s wall of horrors.

You had left him there.

“No,” you sobbed, burying your face in the crook of his neck, his curls tickling your tearstained cheeks.

This couldn’t be the end. Not in this cold, dark realm frozen in time. Not now, when there would have been a whole lifetime ahead; when there were so many dreams to live, memories to make.

It wasn’t fair –

There was a sharp intake of breath, a soft shudder running through his body.

Followed by a muted, “Jesus H. CHRIST.”

Your head snapped up – and your eyes met Eddie’s.

Warm and brimming with life and relief and tears as you stared at each other in utter shock and disbelief before his lips found yours, his fingers gently grasping your chin to tilt your head up and deepen the desperate, greedy kiss, so fierce and full of everything neither of you had the words to phrase right now, of heartbreak and relief and happiness and love.

Tell me this is real, your lips moving against his seemed to beg, tell me it’s not just another of Vecna’s cruel tricks.

The kiss tasted of blood, of your tears mingling with his own, of him, and a suppressed sob of relief ripped from your throat as Eddie’s hands settled on your back, trembling when he pulled you closer against him as if he, too, wanted to be sure that this was real.

The dark realm of the Upside Down blurred around you like watercolours running over a canvas while every fibre of your being was filled with raw, radiant happiness.

Because no matter what would happen now, with Vecna, with Hawkins…everything would be okay. Eddie was back. That was all that counted.

Nothing else mattered but this, right here. Eddie’s lips on yours, his skin warm against yours, his chest rising and falling with each breath as he held you close.

Your hands found their way beneath the remains of his torn Hellfire shirt, roaming up his chest – careful not to graze the bite wounds, his skin coated with dried blood beneath your searching fingertips – and Eddie pulled away, a little bewildered. “Um, like…right now?”, he panted, “I mean – here?”

“Your heartbeat,” you breathed, dumbfounded. “I want to feel your heartbeat.”

There was a second of silence before you both burst into tear-stained, relieved laughter.

You’d thought you’d never hear that sound again, the beautiful melody of Eddie’s laugh.

Your favorite sound in the world. It made sobs rack your body all over again as Eddie shuffled closer, his arms coming around you once more to pull you against him as he cooed, “It’s okay. I’m fine. You did it.” With your cheek pressed against his collarbone, you could feel the soft, incredulous laugh rumbling through him as he added, “You fucking did it.”

He moved, one of his hands finding yours underneath his shirt to gently guide your own hand upwards, placing your palm over the warm skin of his chest, right above the steady pounding of his heart.

“See? You made it,” he whispered, a half-sob, half-laugh bubbling from his lips, “You fucking made it. You fucking brought me back. We’re gonna need to have a talk about your crisis discussion with the undead eldritch entity ‘cause I was pretty sure my soul left my body for a second time in a row when you recounted how we all repeatedly sat his ass on fire but you fucking made it.”

“That was pretty metal of me, huh?” you whispered.

“Hell yeah. You totally stole my thunder, sweetheart. Just when I thought my guitar solo was the moment of the day you drag my ass out of the goddamn Underworld.”

You sniveled, the tears still rushing down the sides of your face – of relief this time.

Your free hand, the one that wasn’t resting over Eddie’s heart, flew up to grasp the guitar pick dangling around your neck and pull the necklace over your head, but Eddie’s hand folded over yours to stop you. “Keep it,” he said softly, “Just…I…you went in there for me. You did that.”

“I wouldn’t have had to if you hadn’t saved me first,” you breathed, a smile on your lips. “That was pretty damn heroic yourself, Munson.”

There was a beat of silence, before Eddie said quietly, “I’d do it again to save you. Not a second of hesitation.”

“I know. So would I.”

His hands came up to the sides of your face, thumbs gently brushing away the tears from your face as he whispered, “I love you, sweetheart. I love you so fucking much.”

“And I will always, always love you, Eddie Munson.”

---

𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠/𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭! 𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭, 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 ♡

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things eddie #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fix it fic #eddie munson imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things x y/n #stranger things imagine

2K notes · View notes