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mo0nfairy · 10 months

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ᥫ᭡ . # ۫ , ⸺ UNCHAINED MELODY, PART THREE !

summary :: surviving raccoon city together, you catch the affections of leon kennedy, ada wong, jill valentine, and carlos oliveira. six years later, you reunite with them and realize their obsession with you has increased tenfold.

chapters :: the masterlist.

word count :: 6.4k

content warnings :: mdni! yandere!leon, yandere!ada, yandere!jill, yandere!carlos, suicidal themes, grief/death, weapons, violence, blood, maladaptive daydreaming, implied masturbation, drugging, kidnapping, unhealthy & unrealistic religious themes.

carlos oliveira's yandere traits are . . .

worshiper, delusional, & nurturing

──── Carlos Oliveira hates the scent of ink. Yet still, his hands are covered in the excess of the relentless use of such.

It stains everything. His ragged clothes, his fingers, the top secret documents he couldn't be bothered to care after. Despite his loathing of the material, it somehow seems to follow him with every step he walks. It doesn't take away the sheer relief he feels when he uses the same ink to jot down everything in his journal. While Carlos is far from home and occupied with his position as a Corporal, he fills pages upon pages of entries assigned to you. From how he swore he heard your laughter at lunch that day to obsessive hours spent writing your name over and over again, he finds it soothing, in an odd sense. Everything the ink touches revolves around you in some shape or form.

Y/N L/N. The name he will never forget.

Carlos remembers your aromatic sweat, your intoxicating breath, your perfumed skin; he will never forget how you ended his life in Raccoon City. It was persephonic, the last day of his life. Through the maze of chaos and gore, he found you, his little taste of heaven before he would face his demise. However, he is still shamefully alive. And selfishly, Carlos wishes that he had died that night. He should be grateful, as insinuated by the thousands of innocent lives lost and his family thanking the universe for sparing their boy. But, he just isn't. He can't, as much as he tries.

Even though his heart still beats, something within him has been dead for these past five years. He tries to heal his soul which decomposes with every day that goes by, but his efforts are brought to no avail. As much as he attempts to write out the fairytale he desperately wishes would materialize into reality, the truth sits and rots beneath a canopy of pretty lies.

You are dead and there is nothing he can do about it.

If Carlos thinks too much about it, he'll be brought to tears. And he can't afford another days-long meltdown filled with unruly sobbing and staggering guilt. He just can't. Instead, he defiles his brain with dreams of you that he deludes himself into believing are real. Writing his sweet spouse letters while he is away from home, buying you trinkets and clothes from foreign places, and leaving behind warm plates of food for you to enjoy. The truth of your well-being dances in the back of his head like a ghost in an attic. However, fully acknowledging you are gone would just about kill him. Carlos will prolong it as long as it can, no matter how fast the inevitable truth gains on him.

"My honey, My sweet, My lover. I will be home soon. Please wait for me, my bumblebee." Ink stains Carlos' fingers as he jots down yet another letter to you. He wonders if you also hate the way ink stains your fingers when you finally write back to him. His heart swells when he imagines you receiving his letter all safe and cozy in the home you share together. One day, he'll receive a letter back from you. The ghost of the truth lurks in the mind, but he turns his back to it. One day, he'll receive a letter back from you.

Five years without you and all that sunshine and wit he used to possess has depleted. Now, it's impossible to know when the ticking time bomb that is Carlos Oliveira may explode.

Unbeknownst to his peers, every emotion expressed is a manifestation of you, whether good or bad. After working the day away, Carlos becomes agitated after such treacherous hours without being able to bathe his mind in the light of you. The anger suffocates whatever room he walks into, causing the people within to recoil from the energy alone. No one has forgotten the time when a few colleagues had poked the bear after a single day Carlos spent unable to return to the thought of you. This inevitably caused an hour-long outburst of broken bones, furniture thrown about, and an eruption of unconsolable tears and horrifying threats. The memory still sends goosebumps across the skin of witnesses and no one has dared to cross the man ever since.

All Carlos needs is to venture back to the lustrous haven within his head. Just you and him, together in extraterrestrial bliss. It's all he needs, please let him have it.

All he needs is indulge in the heavenly sights of you at this moment. Instead of the blood-stained reality that is his life, let him spend his days out in the wild with you. Breezy Summer days where the sun beats down and soaks you in its golden, empyrean hues. Carlos sits with his back against the trunk of a willow tree and you lay on a blanket with your head resting in his lap. The enchanting, peaceful state he has found himself in is almost enough to lull him into a slumber. But, how could he dare shut his eyes when the astonishing sight of you sits right before him? Carlos traces his fingers among the tracings of sunlight that peek through the branches and rest upon your face. Beautiful. How irrevocably, indubitably, catastrophically beautiful you are.

A picnic out in an empty field where the day would be spent letting the world fall away as he looks down on the love of his life. Your lips, ever-so appetizing, are dusted with sugar from the numerous treats Carlos made for this exact date. His hand cups your cheek and he caresses your cheekbone with his thumb, your smile growing in response. And the way it tugs on his heartstrings is almost as if your mere happiness was playing him like a string instrument. He gazes at you with so much wonder, it's practically baffling how in love a man could be. You offer him a bite of the pastry in your hand, but he declines. The heat of the season's temperatures and the burning love within Carlos is more than enough to keep him satiated.

Safe, content, and alive with love. There couldn't be a more perfect way to describe this precious moment with you. Safe, content, and alive with love.

A hand waving in his face brings him back to his unforgiving reality. No more sunshine, no more birdsong, no more you. The dread that permeates his entire being could rival the pain of being stabbed in the heart. Carlos jumps in surprise and casts his eyes upward to find Tyrell, whose worried eyes peer at him through the glasses perched on his nose. His body is tense, terrified of treading over a boundary and causing another outburst. Only this time, he fears the several guards with syringes that were able to make him comply before would fail this time. And Tyrell wouldn't be able to escape Carlos' wrath with his life.

However, in the head of Carlos, he can't fathom why his colleague was suddenly so afraid of him. Maybe it was the way his expression was entirely unconscious. Maybe it was the way his eyes were wide and distant, in a completely different world. Maybe it was the way his lips would twitch into a smile that would be deemed creepy or maybe it was how he whispered unintelligible sentences under his breath. All of this remains unknown to Carlos, as he was far too busy in la-la-land to pay attention to his surroundings. Tyrell then motions to the ground, where Carlos finds how his pen had managed to roll across the floor and how his journal was now sitting face-down against the concrete. When did he drop those?

"Are you okay, man?" The question echoes as if he was standing miles away from him. Is he? Is he ok? These days, it never really feels like it. Only when he can escape to his paradise does he truly feel okay.

"You kept saying something. Over and over again." Carlos can barely render the words spoken by his friend.

"Y/N. Who is that-?"

Something snaps within Carlos. The fireworks you have ignited inside him have been snuffed out like a cigarette; the skipping of his heart trips over itself like a child sprinting down a jagged sidewalk. Your name alone sitting on someone else's tongue is more than enough to send him spiraling into an envious frenzy. You've never even met this poor man, but Carlos' brain infests his thoughts with visions of you and Tyrell together. This parasite paints images of you in the same field, in each other's arms, hopelessly devoted to one another. Happy with one another. And the stifling jealousy practically makes Carlos maniacal. It should be him, it should be him. He doesn't deserve it, but it should be him with you. Not Tyrell, never him, please not him please choose me please just choose me I will do anything baby please-

Carlos doesn't even think before he's swinging his right arm back and surging it forward to Tyrell's face. He can't win, he can't win, he can't. Permeating pain flashes like a flickering light and it courses through his entire arm. This sudden flare of weakness grants Tyrell the opportunity to block the attack before it lands. He now just stares at his friend in complete horror. Carlos falls to the floor of the infirmary and inspects the source of pain, finding that his right bicep has been covered in thick gauze. What was once white and clean is now tattered with blood-red stains. The memories hit him like a train. How could he have forgotten? Was he so caught up in his fantasies that he failed to recall what happened mere hours ago?

One of the most prominent and more so realistic fantasies (in his opinion) Carlos has is of you in heaven, watching over him like his own personal guardian angel. To finally accept your death would shatter him entirely, but to think of how your soul has lived on and is now living in promised eternal bliss calms his stuttering heart. His relentless acknowledgment of this fantasy has caused disastrous side effects, however. Behind the scenes, he has caught himself on many occasions contemplating death. To indulge in his demise and to see you on the other side, Carlos knows it shouldn't make him this exhilarated. Still, he continues to wallow in the celestial phenomenon of joining you in the clouds.

He refuses to fulfill these suicidal tendencies for the sole reason of how you'd perceive him afterward. You had ever so bravely lost your life to the wreckage of Raccoon City; you died a fucking warrior. Whom would Carlos be if he simply ended the torment by slitting his wrists? The echo of your voice barking of how much of a coward he'd be for killing himself over such dramatic, puny reasons makes Carlos recoil in shame. This obsession of his has accelerated to a degree where he'll purposely slack off during missions, hoping that he'll be fatally caught in the crossfire. A bullet through the brain and he'd wake up beside you, where you'll praise him for his bravery and how he died a hero.

To reunite with you — that is the only thing Carlos could ever want.

Today was no different. Yet, while his comrades shout for him to take cover and question why he is being such an idiot, it finally happened. Barrelling through the air is a bullet, which buries itself into the flesh of his right arm. The force sends Carlos to the ground. When others try to take hold of him and drag him to safety, he swats them off like they're nothing but pesky mosquitoes on a humid July afternoon. And he laughs so loudly and so manically, it could almost convince the enemy that the Corporal is secretly the Joker.

It all makes sense now. You had broken your right arm five years ago and now, Carlos has been shot in the exact same arm. This must be you! This must be your way of lending your hand through the sky, guiding him to join you in heaven! You are here with him and Carlos can't restrict the genuine smile and streaming tears from forming on his face. Now, however, the wounds your tender heart left have now been cared for. These doctors have defiled your mark on him; they have sullied the gift you have so kindly given him. And the fury that bubbles inside of Carlos in response is nothing short of harrowing.

Through the heaving breaths of the man he once considered to be his friend, Tyrell finally speaks up with a waver in his voice. "You-You need help, Carlos. I don't know who Y/N is, but-"

"YOU SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!" Carlos' outburst explodes and the ringing of it settles like a blast wave. It bounces off the walls and reverberates through the ears of both men.

The anger is practically palpable. What Tyrell failed to notice through that rageful veneer was the pieces of Carlos' broken heart that lies beneath. With every passing second, this phantom within him reminds him of the state of your well-being. You're dead, you're gone, I won't see you ever again. With naivety Carlos excuses as the truth, he continues to ignore this voice. He has been stuck in a five-year-long chase with his logic and will continue running for five more if he needs to. And slowly but surely, this endless race is tearing him apart.

Tyrell leaves without so much as another breath. One question stays heavy on his mind, though. Whoever you are, Y/N, what the fuck have you done to him?

The patient must be given PTO to avoid another breakdown that could potentially accelerate into lethal violence — that was the "excuse" the doctors gave to the Sergeant regarding Carlos' wellbeing. This leaves him here. Alone and driving back to his estate. Meanwhile, his brain is blooming with iridescent fantasies he claims to be memories. Driving home to you after a long day of work and bringing you all the money and love you could ever ask for. He wonders, would you wait for him to come home? Would he find you asleep on the sofa, succumbing to your drowsiness before he'd be able to open the door? Or would you be in the bedroom? The soft glow of the lamp light framing your face as you peel back the covers, welcoming him into your idyllic embrace?

The tires of his car begin to skid off the road. Carlos is brought out of his imagination, where he then jerks the vehicle back into its proper position in the lane. You may just be the death of him, he muses. And when he finally arrives home, he tries to ignore the love letters he sent to you piling in the mailbox, the trinkets and clothes he bought you collecting dust, and the dinner he left for you that is now putrid and overwhelmed with mold. He tries to avoid how much it actually kills him. But still, this aching sense of dread rots in the pit of his stomach. It isn't until he glances at the calendar pinned on the wall does the devastation finally settle like fresh snow.

The date today was September 28th, 2004.

Six years.

It's been six years since he survived Raccoon City; it's been six years since he met you and lost you on the same night. This isn't the first revelation that comes to mind, though. Instead, he feels absolutely mortified by his own negligence. It's your sixth-year anniversary, how could he have forgotten? What kind of person, boyfriend, husband is he to forget this day? He should have brought home chocolate, flowers, shit, maybe even taken you on a month-long vacation to a resort across the world. God, how could he be so fucking stupid? You two could have been at each other's side during the most important day of the year (besides your birthday, of course). But no, he just had to get so caught up in his head that he forgot the anniversary of the day that made him the man he is today.

Another epiphany, one of the much more luminescent standards, hits Carlos once again. This must be why you had never written back to him. You aren't dead, you're simply upset with him! All the letters, all the gifts, all the plates of food, everything you have neglected — it was just your way of expressing your anger. Ha, take that, brain! And despite the circumstances, Carlos imagines the scowl on your face and is absolutely giddy from the vision alone. You're upset with him, yes, but you're alive. His sweet lover is here with a beating heart and an angry head. And God, does it make Carlos practically shiver with glee.

He then storms through his house, looking into every nook and cranny in search of you. "Y/N? Honey? Honey, it's me! Look, I know you're upset, but I promise I will do everything I can to make it up to you!"

"Where would you like to go? Hawaii? Paris? Shit, Italy? Wherever you'd like, Y/N!" With each room left devoid of you, that wrenching misery returns piece by piece and yanks on what is left of his heart. His voice begins to crack as he continues to shout for you. "Y/N, please! Please come out, honey! I'll do anything, Y/N... Please..."

Carlos then collapses to the hardwood floor, his body crushed with the sobs now protruding from his chest. Tears pour down his cheeks with uncontrollable force before landing on the ground beneath. And he cries so violently that he fears his ribcage may shatter from the force of it alone. He can't accept it, he can't, he can't, he can't. Even if this is what the rest of his life looks like, just veiling the truth with delusional fantasies, Carlos will never face the honest conclusion. He just can't.

"Please, bumblebee... I need you..." It's a final, desperate prayer. For your presence or for mercy, Carlos isn't exactly sure which.

He then digs beneath the collar of his shirt and fishes out the necklace he has worn for six years now. Swung upon a rusted chain is the charm of a bumblebee, the yellow and black shades now decayed with age. Carlos (as forgetful as he now realized he is today) will never forget when he first received the necklace. It was right before you had boarded the subway train that would eventually lead to your departure from life. How you enveloped him in your sugar-sweet hug and the way your natural musk sat on your skin still drives him nuts after all these years. The memory brings him great comfort on restless nights spent tossing and turning in bed.

At that moment, however, he never realized how constricting his hold was on you until he hears something snap. Opening his eyes and awakening from the stupor of his cartoon-esque infatuation, he finds how he had underestimated his strength and crushed the clasp of your necklace. The state of your beloved jewelry piece is left oblivious to you. Carlos wasn't given a second to process what had happened before you're peeling your arms off of him and boarding the train. In his hands are the remnants of the necklace you left behind.

The insect symbolizes perseverance, which he finds is a perfect way to describe his life today. Persevering through every day until he can finally let his body rest six feet under; persevering through every day until he can join his honey, his bumblebee through the gates of heaven. Carlos presses another kiss of millions to the pendant as he sits in his lonely house, pretending it is your skin beneath his lips instead of the rusted metal. His heart is shattered, his body is weak, and his brain is infested with every kind of mayhem he has ever known, but he will push through it. He will push through any and all kind of chaos knowing you are at the end of the finish line. Waiting for him.

The quick tune of an email alert brings Carlos out of his lovesick, grief-burdened daze. Suddenly being torn away from the thought of you makes rage flood through his veins. He stomps over to shut his computer off, maybe even throw the monitor against the wall in the process. When he catches a glimpse of what is on his computer, he hesitates. A loud gasp then escapes from him.

On his computer is an email from an old friend.

Carlos is able to fly into the country in less than twenty-four hours. He has to take several deep breaths in order to eradicate the black dots dancing in his vision as he races to Jill's apartment. Seeing her face and the present relief in her expression, the all-too-overwhelming revelation settles. Carlos is surprised he hadn't blacked out right there on her doorstep in response. It's time to finally get you back.

And just like Jill and Carlos had orchestrated after two weeks of planning how they'd release you from Umbrella's clutches, one sip of the cup of tea in your hands and you were out like a light. Your collapse was harsh, evident in the loud thud that permeated when you landed. Fortunately, you had your blanket-cape there to cushion your fall. It doesn't stop the two from bursting the bathroom door open and rushing to your aid, however.

Without your knowledge, Jill and Carlos then proceed to take you far, far away from the place you had once called home.

"What the fuck?"

Despite knowing you were sleeping soundly just several rooms over, your sudden presence still manages to have their breath locked in their throat. The way you look at one another contradicts each other in such discrete ways, it's almost comical. You're hyperventilating, staring at the scene in front of you with eyes blown in crazed shock. Six years of grieving through the most traumatic night of your life, why is it now you find out they have been alive this whole time? These two, however, stare into your soul with so much wonder, you're almost convinced they thought they were looking at some sort of mythological creature. It's almost as if they're hypnotized. No movement, no response — just pure amazement at the sight of you alive and looking at them with eyes full of life.

It isn't until you take a cautious step back does it trigger them to escape their state of captivation. You venturing further away from them, even just a pace — they can't let it happen. Never again. While Jill resorts to calmly approaching you as if you were a stray cat, Carlos makes an abrupt dash for you. You take several more steps backward before the man you presumed to be dead became inescapable. With another onslaught of tears brimming in his eyes and a whimper fleeing from his throat, Carlos practically tackles you into a tenacious embrace.

The hold he has on you is ridden with disbelief and desperation. He's shaking against your body like an Autumn leaf drifting through the wind. Burying his nose further into your neck, he inhales the musk that sits on your skin as if he had been trapped underwater and you were a pocket of air. God, Carlos wasn't even able to look at you for more than one second before he started blubbering like a baby. The man is so absorbed in the moment of finally reuniting with you, he almost misses it when Jill smacks him on his arm and growls through clenched teeth for him to "get his fucking shit together." But, Carlos refuses to budge. He is ready to beg Jill to let him stay here, to please let him revel in the fact that this isn't another fantasy someone will wake him out of.

He somehow nestles his face further into the crook of your neck and brings your body closer to his, almost as if he was trying to mold you together as one. And at this moment, Carlos has yet another revelation. Years upon years of imagining what heaven looks like, he was entirely incorrect. There are no clouds, no birdsong, no vibrant gardens. This. Right here in this moment, this is what heaven is. To have you, the partner of his dreams, so close to him is nothing short of heavenly. For six years, he has dreamed of this moment. And if he were to die at this moment, Carlos would be elated to know he died the happiest he has ever been in his whole life.

Meanwhile, you're thrashing in the tight hold of his constricted strength. It's almost hard for you to breathe with how hard he’s squeezing you. The woman you see over his shoulder is collected, but only a fool would miss the way her shoulders tense and nostrils flare with rage (and a sliver of possessiveness, too). She receives your silent plea and grabs a fistful of his mop-head of hair, using all the might in her arm to pull him away from his own bear hug. Carlos reluctantly loosens his grasp on your form. However, he then resorts to checking you for any and all signs of life.

The past six years have been spent dodging the logical answer to your disappearance. Now, however, the sight of you alive is just too good to be true. He begins thoroughly checking your body for a pulse, listening intently to any irregularities in your heartbeat. Anything to assure him you are actually alive and breathing. When every sign and question points to 'yes' over if you are here, Carlos can hardly contain it. Finally seeing you walking, looking, talking, alive — it's like the crescendo of a beautiful song.

Jill, as collected as she is, does not differ from Carlos' state of emotion very much. She has thought of this moment at least a million times, rehearsing every syllable and breath to make the moment all the more perfect. Now, however, every perceivable thought in her head was robbed the second you entered the room. How desperately she wishes to reassure your safety, inform you of the lies you were told, and vow to never let another soul lay a single hand on you ever again. But, with her racing heart and this grizzly bear of a man latched to you like a leech, her idea of the perfect reunion has been spoiled. Still, for six years she has longed for this. Whether it's a steamy kiss beneath the moonlight or caught in Carlos' mess of tears, she couldn't be more elated to finally have you again.

Much to your dismay, your empty stomach then grumbles its frustrations into the silent air. In response, your face grows warm in embarrassment. You had been so occupied with the current events and battling your shock, the dinner you had missed out on the night before had gone overlooked. The two, however, react much differently to your perceptible hunger than you. Without a mere second to waste, they're fawning over you as if you were some powerful deity and they were your humble, loyal servants. Their infantilizing treatment of you makes your skin burn with even more heaps of humiliation.

"Oh? Are you hungry? I've almost finished breakfast!" Carlos breaks physical contact to return to the stove and you have to restrain yourself from expressing your perceptible relief.

"I... I didn't have dinner last night." With an exhale of dry laughter, your attempt to lighten the mood only does the opposite. How could they have let you go hungry? They brought you here to care for you the way they deserve and they have already failed!

A gentle hand on your lower back causes you to jump in startlement. You find Jill beside you, who helps guide your trembling legs to the kitchen table. Though, it doesn't take a genius to notice the way her hand lingers. Finally free of any unsolicited touch, you sit down at the end of the table. The only way you can bring yourself to any state of ease is to ignore the relentless cooing of the woman beside you and the furious scraping of a spatula against a pan. Almost as if Carlos was speeding through the process of cooking in order to get back to you sooner. Jill then sits beside you, taking your hands into hers. Being free of physical contact was good while it lasted, you joke to yourself.

"You're real... You're real, my butterfly, you're real." Jill indulges in the reality of your genuine touch, before shaking her head as if to wobble her rationality back in place.

A plate is soon served before you. And it is easily the most delectable dish you had ever seen; it looked like something straight out of a magazine, despite the frivolous efforts made by the chef. A gourmet omelet sits in front of you, steam pervading the air in invading your nostrils with its mouth-watering aroma. Adorned with spinach, tomato, and feta cheese, you could have easily downed the delicious serving in one gulp. Nausea swaying in your stomach like a boat on sea prevents you from doing such. You thank Carlos through stuttering breaths and almost miss the way his body softens from receiving your gratitude.

Always so possessive, Jill reverts your attention back to her. "There is so much you are unaware of, Y/N. But, we're here to help. You don't have to be afraid a second longer." Her reassurance does little to calm your nerves. "Right, Carlos?" He only nods weakly, completely dazed as he stares at you in adoration. Had he even heard what she said?

"We will not let anything happen to you." The gravity of her statement practically touches your bones with its weight. It scares you, the severity of the declaration.

Terrified of angering them (even though there is not a single thing you could do that would ever irritate them), you grasp the fork laid out for you on the pristine table. Your efforts are halted by Carlos, who sits down beside you, opposite of Jill. To satiate his gnawing need for you to be close, he pushes his chair to touch yours until you are both shoulder-to-shoulder. After all, you must be so terrified upon being kidnapped by such an evil corporation. It is his touch and comfort you need to lull you back into a place of tranquility, he's sure of it.

Carlos then takes the fork from your hands, nearly passing out when your thumb grazes his hand. To your horror, he plucks some food onto the utensil and holds it up to your lips, ushering you to let him feed you. Almost as if this was some romantic anniversary or something. Reluctantly, you open your mouth and let him place the bite of food on your tongue. And you would be a liar if you said this wasn't the most delicious meal you have ever eaten. Your tastebuds adorned in succulent food and flavorful seasoning, you joke that this dish is compensation for all the turmoil this morning has brought.

Slowly, as Carlos was painfully milking the moment for as long as he could, your hunger is satiated. The joy he garners from merely feeding you radiates off of him like a campfire against the dark night brume. Once the plate is wiped clean of even the smallest crumb (despite your assurances to him that you were full), Jill then wipes the corner of your mouth with her thumb. Your holy attention is reverted back to Carlos when he pokes your lips with a straw, once again, ushering you to let him nourish your stomach. "To wash it down" he excuses, with far too much exhilaration hanging heavy in his tone.

Indulging in the cold, fresh water as it cascades down your throat, you miss how Jill brings her thumb, now adorned with bits of food and your saliva, into her mouth. And she just relishes in the absolute taste of you. Her vision goes hazy and her eyelids droop from the ecstasy. She would have let herself completely fall into the arms of enrapturing oblivion if it weren't for the fact you were right beside her. Carlos takes notice, however, and a sneer forms on his lips as he looks at her in disgust. Jill bites her tongue, holding herself back from pointing out how he is no different. So easily, she could inform you of how after your intimate bath together, she found him inhaling your sweater with his eyes rolled back into his skull and his hand stuffed into his pants. If she were to voice this, however, the man would easily throw himself over the table and attack her like a feral animal. She can handle him, but you don't need even more stress.

Upon being thrust into the middle of this mess, the only thing you can do is watch as the obsession of Jill and Carlos play out before your very eyes. And the physical manifestation of your return has caused disastrous consequences. Six years and you're ashamed to say you have forgotten what their facial features looked like. The memory remains as a blurred, distorted mess of blood and grime. An expression of all the trauma you all have endured. Now, however, you'd be damned if those were two expressions you could ever forget.

Carlos and his dark goo-goo eyes, adorned in overwhelming heaps of drowning devotion that could swallow you whole with one glance. They're affixed with teardrops, adding onto everything cherubic, holy about the way he looks at you. Despite the sheer display of sadness leaking from his eyes, his lips exhibit the biggest, most genuine smile you have ever seen in your life. The way he looks at you, it's almost as if God himself had descended from the heavens and graced Carlos with his presence. All from just the mere act of feeding you. It was deranged, you thought to yourself.

His smile vanishes, eyebrows raising as something seems to click in his head. He then takes your right arm gingerly into his grasp, fingers treading amongst the field of goosebumps blossoming on your skin. "Your arm, you poor thing... Are you okay, honey?" The worry in his voice makes you shiver with convulsion. It takes you several seconds to compute that he was referring to the injury you endured six whole years ago.

Jill and her cheeks that are blazon in hues reminiscent of two ripe cherries, appending a sort of childish innocence to her always-stoic expression. The way her eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed displayed a sense of fury — presumably toward the man clinging onto you like a lifeline. When she looks at you, however, her features perceptibly soften as if beams of sunlight had enveloped her after years of being in the depths of Winter. It was deranged, you thought to yourself.

"You... You kidnapped me..." Even through all the violence and torment these two have endured, nothing had cut deep than those three words. The waver in your voice, the emotions brimming in your eyes, the trembling frown plastered on your lips. God, it killed them right then and there.

They begin to ramble and deny your accusation. All as if it wasn't a lie coming out of their mouths. And in their heads, it was anything but a lie. They truly believed that they saved you as if it was a genuine fact. Somehow, they manage to inch closer to you. The empty air around you becomes suffused with their waving hands and panicked explanations. All to convince you that they would never hurt you. Never.

"You're upset, Y/N, we understand. But you have to know that this was for your own good!" Jill remains the voice of reason, if that's what you would name it. Meanwhile, Carlos throws shambles of assurances such as, "It's not true!" and "I need you!" your way, hoping that something, anything will mend your fears.

And poor you. So confused, so terrified, so bewildered. All you could want at this moment is to go back twelve hours ago. To leave with your friend the second they entered the room, to scrutinize what in your home had caused you to black out, to burst down the front door and beg the the surrounding security guards to save you. Even though the truth of your “home” simmers just beneath the surface, itching to claw its way out, you still find yourself aching to go back to the way things were. Even if it is all just a fat lie. Anything is better than this.

Miles upon miles away, the three of you are completely unaware of the fourth presence treading closer to their secret. Suspicions high, Tyrell can't help but use some of his free time to venture into why Jill and Carlos had suddenly vanished. For the umpteenth time, he looks through more footage from the security system Jill was so insistent on receiving. And what he finds is horrifying. The two people he had once considered his friends were seen climbing through a window, to where they escape moments later with an unconscious body.

A flare of guilt spreads through him. Unwillingly, he had actively played a part in this. Whoever you were, he felt inclined to take full responsibility for helping these two take this innocent life away. To be kidnapped, murdered, he doesn't know. What Tyrell does know, however, is that he feels to be partially blamed for this. When he does further research, his heart sinks even deeper into the pit of his stomach. Reports of a missing patient were sent around the establishment. Y/N L/N, a potential runaway was actually the body nestled tight in Carlos' arms. He remembers how he had spoken that name and the reaction it garnered from Carlos; he remembers seeing the name on the door of the room Jill relentlessly paid him to receive footage of.

With that, Tyrell reports the incident. An investigation commences and two major clues are found. A shattered mug that had been filled with sedation-induced tea and specks of blood on the bathroom floor that have been tested positive for matching one of the assailants. Now, a manhunt is in play for Jill Valentine and Carlos Oliveira.

At his desk that was overwhelmed with littering documents, Tyrell eavesdrops on a conversation between his two colleagues.

"You won't believe who they've gotten to take over Carlos' spot for this mission!"

"Who?"

"Leon Kennedy."

⁺ 🎧 , 🪷 ۫ you are currently listening to . . . ⁺ 🪺 , 🎵 ꪆ

THE BONUS TRACK !

❝ WE WERE WILD AND FLUORESCENT

COME HOME TO MY HEART . . . ❞

this is what i imagined the necklace carlos stole borrowed from you to look like. however, you can imagine it as whatever you'd like!

1K notes · View notes

mccnstruck · 6 months

Text

the dreams you let me follow.

characters: kazuha x gn!reader

tags: hurt/comfort, reverse comfort but also comfort both of you guys are a mess, not proofread, 2k+ words, long fic, gender neutral, no pronouns besides "you" for reader, self-indulgent, op is possessed by kazuha brainrot, could be seen in the same storyline as “never alone”, mentions of mental breakdowns, implied emotional abuse?, very ooc i don't know man

a/n: i know i posted like a few days ago but as today comes to an end i literally couldn't let myself go to bed without making something for kazuha. happy birthday kazuhaalkdlwklkaw AHHDHDHHAH ok. but anyways the ending was HORRENDOUS but if i carried it on any longer i would never finish this. reblogs and tags are much appreciated. oh and also you and kazuha both have abandonment issues LMFAOOAOOAOA

You looked beyond the windows of your Mondstadt home and onto the rain that poured on Monstadt City. The sun hid behind grey clouds, whose sobs embodied the roaring thunder. Its tears fell onto Mondstadt soil, and you saw people quickly run back home to the warmth of their homes. You turned on the lamp beside your bed and took a journal out of the bookshelf next to your bed. Your fingers felt the embroidery on the book’s spine and grazed over the writing on the cover. The red ink on the front read: “To Kadehara Kazuha.”

You opened the journal and grazed over your handwriting. Pages upon pages of messy handwriting took you back to the days when you first settled in Mondstadt.

You remembered the night before you set your travels for Mondstadt. You entered your cabin (for quite possibly, the last time in a long time) and saw him writing in his journal. Crimson eyes looked up at you and Kazuha smiled. The moonlight barely shone inside the cabin, but even you could make out the tears that slid down his face.

Your heart shattered when you heard his voice. “Hello, dear.”

“Kazuha, what happened?”

You rushed to his side and sat on the bed. You brought your hand to cradle his face and gently slid your thumb over the tear stains on his face.

You whispered, sadness lacing over your voice. “Kazuha…is it because of me?”

He sat in silence, and both you and him stared at the journal laid on his lap.

“As a wanderer, I should know your situation best. It is not your fault, by all means. You should be allowed to embrace the love of Mondstadt City.”

“Kazuha-”

“Yet. Yet I keep trying. I keep…on trying…to cling on…”

His tears fell onto the blanket and he hid his face from you; trying to wipe his tears away.

Your breath hitched, and you felt your world crumble around you.

Kazuha’s demeanor crumbled, and you pulled him into your arms.

Seeing Kazuha’s usual smile taken from you….because of you. He said it wasn’t your fault, yet you felt the loneliness of Kazuha’s future travels. You felt the future lonely nights when you would have to stare out the window: wondering where your lover would share his love.

But, you had to do this.

You had to escape. And Kazuha knew. Both of you knew.

Instead of comforting him with false lies you both knew to be meaningless; you instead made him promise one thing.

“Kazuha. Keep on writing. Keep on writing and exploring the world.”

He looked at you and paused at your words. “Why wouldn’t I do that in the first place?”

“Just…Just keep on writing. Never lose that spark. Do what you love, okay?”

You held out your hand to him and your pinky stuck out. The child in you, clinging to whatever promises you could believe in, desperately hoped for Kazuha to respond in kind.

You softly smiled when he intertwined his pinky in yours. He promised, no matter what happened, to always follow the spark in his heart.

At the thought of Kazuha, the journal in front of you became blurry. You looked up to find your home to be blurry as well. You were crying. Your tears fell as the gray clouds cried louder.

Archons, you wished to see him again. The unnerving fear of forgetting his face ate you alive every day, and you yearned to hear his voice once more. You were so busy laughing and working throughout the day that on nights when you only accompanied the thoughts in your head, you realized how long it had been.

Would you even be able to show your face in front of him? You just…left Kazuha and went on your travels.

No…you both knew. You had to leave Sumeru. You needed to build a home somewhere.

Sumeru…

But why….why did you feel something for Sumeru? Your chest felt heavy, full of sin. Your happiness felt sinful, almost as if you needed to go back and plead for the Akademiya to take you back.

Let them rip your designs to shreds, have them accept your crumpled academic papers with messy writing and dried tears.

Mama, Papa.

They wouldn’t even let you acknowledge them.

Did you mess up? Oh, you messed up. Did you? You could’ve lived with stability, with respect. You could’ve sacrificed your dreams, because everyone knows you’re just going to wake up anyways. Yet you lived your life sleepwalking, clinging to your dreams and ignoring reality.

Was this what your parents wanted you to see? No. They could’ve supported your ambitions. They could’ve pushed society’s whispers and helped you build your wishes.

Yet. They didn’t.

You couldn’t even remember their faces.

Mama. Papa.

You couldn’t remember their faces. Yet their voices haunted your very being every day.

Mama. Papa.

Mama. Papa. Mama. Papa. Mama, Papa, I’m so sorry Im so sorry im so soryryr mim sodttyt iams oso soryryruh please pforgive me PLEASE

Your thoughts were corrupted of pure hatred and that night, the beloved engineer of Mondstadt was left to rot in the hell of loneliness and insecurity.

No one was to go through the rain to find you crying, so you could’ve screamed at the walls in your home and still would’ve gotten no response. Yet, knowing how alone you were, you quietly trembled and wrapped yourself in your arms. Your journal laid at your side, and the hopes of seeing your beloved turned into desperate cries to not be alone. The dried tears on the page said it all.

You don’t know how long you’ve been crying. Your chest felt the same heaviness, but your tears had stopped. You didn’t have the energy to wipe them off. You shifted on your bed to turn the lamp off when…

A thud shook your house, followed by a knock.

You would’ve excused the thud to be the thunder, but a knock? Who was to be at your home in the rain?

“Give me a minute!”

You felt extremely bad to delay some warmth to the person outside, but your face was completely unrepresentable. You rushed to the bathroom to wipe your tears off and disregarded the other visible signs you were crying. You pulled out a scarf to offer and rushed to the door.

When you opened the door, your eyes widened at the white hair with a crimson streak running through it. Crimson eyes looked back at you with glee, and the figure grinned at your shock.

“Hello, dear.”

“You’re lying. You’re lying. No, I’m dreaming. This is a joke-”

In your state of denial, he pulled your hand towards him and wrapped his arms around you. He hid you in his embrace, and not even the pouring rain could separate you from him.

Kazuha whispered, “It’s been so long…so…” He paused, his shoulders shaking, before he continued. “I wanted to see you. I’ve missed you.”

You gritted your teeth to hold back your sobs, yet the tears started again when you enclosed Kazuha in your arms.

Your voice shook, and your chest gasped for air. “Archons, I missed you. So much.”

Even with your warmth, Kazuha shivered from the cold winds. You led him inside and let him warm up by the fireplace while you prepared something to eat.

Kazuha noticed the tissues stacked up on your bed and your attempts to hide your journal in the bookshelf.

“Dear?”

Your head turned rapidly toward him and you put on a fake grin. Your tears were wiped off, yet your eyes looked pained; as if they were about to close with agony. “What’s up?”

“I…Are you alright?”

“Yeah! Yeah. I’m ok. Why? Need anything?”

Kazuha worriedly smiled. “You seemed tense. And when you opened the door, your face looked pained. Desperate.”

You paused at Kazuha’s words and almost whirled back into your thoughts. You never understood how Kazuha could see past you, but it was an admirable skill, yet it made you very vulnerable.

You regain your voice and shakily respond. “Hm. I’m just.. stressed. Don’t worry, it's a usual thing. Don’t worry yourself about it. Can’t have your pretty little head anxious over me.”

Your flirtatious remarks would’ve gotten to him, had your voice been more steady and confident.

Kazuha, to your relief, let you drop the topic. Yet you knew he wasn’t going to let you go without talking.

He pulled out a journal from his bag and laid it on his lap. The journal was colored red with designs that originated from Inazuma. He opened it to the very first page and began to speak.

“That night before you left the Crux, I wrote in a new journal I had gotten. Remember the shop we visited in Inazuma?”

You hummed, acknowledging the memory.

“I awoke in the middle of the night and wrote my first entry. It was dedicated to you. Here,” he held the open journal and gestured for you to read it, “you can read it.”

You take the journal from Kazuha’s grasp and sit down in the seat next to his.

“To My Engineer,

You’re so far away in the land of dreams, that I’m afraid I cannot reach you even in the night. I had a nightmare, but I don’t want to bother you right now. You have a long day ahead of you.

My Engineer. I hope I get to see you again so that one day I can show you this journal and you can ask me why I called you ‘my engineer’ instead of ‘my dear’.”

You cheekily ask, “Why did you call me your engineer?”

Kazuha chuckled and gestured for you to read further.

“Ever since I met you, I was so enthralled with your dreams that I forgot that those dreams aren’t stuck in place. Yet I clung on.

To the future engineer who sees this. I am so proud of you. Leaving home, knowing it doesn’t call for you, hurts. I am so proud of you.

I miss you. Yet you lay next to me as of right now, sound asleep. I’ll miss you, so very much, my engineer. Yet I know your dreams will inspire little kids and make Mondstadt proud. That’s what I admire about you. Your dreams don’t stop with you, but grow to communities, and will grow around Teyvat, in time. No matter what anyone says, you deserve to follow your dreams. You shouldn’t have to be stuck in one place. You’ve taught me the same.

This journal is dedicated to you. When you told me to follow my spark, a part of me hoped my spark would lead me to you.

My engineer, I hope you build your dreams and smile at your designs. I hope I can see you again.

Your lover,

K. Kazuha”

Your voice lost all of its stability when you whispered Kazuha’s name. You looked up with teary eyes to see Kazuha staring at the journal with a bittersweet smile.

“Ever since you told me to never stop writing, and to follow my spark, I thought about Inazuma after so long. For so long, I refused to remember the decline of the clan. But, that night, I thought about the promise between my father and I. I…”

He fell silent, yet his face remained the same.

“You’ve shown me, indirectly, how dreams heal the soul. Dreams are such temporary illusions we indulge ourselves in, but it is also a future promise to ourselves. Humanity cannot stay forever in one place. If a wounded animal wants to escape from a trap, it has to sacrifice the hind leg that was caught. Staying in the trap has far more deadly consequences.”

You held Kazuha’s hand and slid your thumb over his skin. Kazuha finally looked at you and closed his eyes; letting the touch of your skin ground him to Teyvat.

After a little while of shared silence, you let go of his hand and wiped your tears. You stood up and moved to your bookshelf, taking out the journal with the embroidery on the spine.

Kazuha raised his eyebrows with curiosity as you sat back down. You laid out the journal in front of him and gave him a teary smile.

“I wrote a journal dedicated to you too. I don’t think my dreams ever not consisted of you in them.”

He opened the journal to find pages upon pages of messy handwriting in front of him; all consisting of different dates, all to him.

“I…Even though I couldn’t see you, I still felt your presence with me. So I kept a journal of my own.”

Kazuha flipped through the journal and saw his name on every page he flipped through. Messy handwriting spelled out his name through times of sadness and times of joy. Your handwriting spelled out his name, Kazuha. Kazuha. Kazuha. Kazuha.

“Kazuha?”

He looked up at you and realized he was crying.

“I…I don’t know why. I tried to ease my mind by thinking that you would be so caught up in your work. I just…you dedicated this to me…”

You stood from your seat and pulled Kazuha into your arms. He rested his head on your shoulder, and both of your journals laid next to each other.

All of your problems, the guilt, the shame, it would never go truly away. But knowing Kazuha was here, whether with you or traveling the world, kept you chasing your dreams. You only hoped that he was here to see those dreams become reality.

The thunderstorm of the night continuously roared throughout the lands, yet for a moment it calmed itself at the two lovers’ embrace, who couldn’t be bothered by the world’s burdens placed upon them. The thunderstorm paused its cries to listen to the quiet declarations between two lovers, before starting back up again and letting its tears merge with the Mondstadt soil.

mccnstruck. do not plagiarize or repost.

taglist: @risekuni, @omori-1, @tearsasmascara, @yinyinggie

#・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗#astronetwrk #kazuha x reader #kazuha x you #kazuha x gender neutral reader #kaedehara kazuha #kazuha x #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin headcanons #[ the lost library ]

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elegantduelliste · 3 months

Text

Epistles of Saints & Sinners

Chapter Summary:

Astarion's plans go awry when confronted with his own past.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Story Summary:

When Astarion meets the humble bard, Tav, he soon finds out he's the only one between them that knows they are bound as soulmates through their marks. Deciding it's more trouble than its worth, he refuses to tell her along the course of their journey across Faerûn.

But, unbeknownst to him and their companions, Tav is harboring a gruesome secret that she only thought was nothing more than a traumatized period in her life.

As they both come to face to face with their pasts and presents, will they choose to move forward or let it consume them?

Healing isn’t linear—after all.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Chapter 12: Hunt*

Ao3

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Main Page & Chapter List

Word Count: 5.6k

Pairing: Astarion x female bard Tav

CW: Smut, Vaginal Sex, CPTSD episode during sex, Cazador, Blood & Violence, Act 1 Spoilers

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Vampires are some of the deadliest monsters we may contend with. I do not relish my current mission to seek out the spawn, Astarion. But, he may be the only way we can ever see our children again. I am plagued by visions of them being carried away by these blood hungry creatures. Plagued even more by their screams that fill my mind in the most quiet of hours. Full blooded vampires become consumed with whatever they set their eyes upon. But, spawns—I have to wonder—if they were to escape their masters, would they be able to redeem themselves if they took the road less traveled?

— Gandrel of the Gur Tribe, journal entry 567

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

“I suppose I should, yet again, count myself lucky: the bastard is alone,” Astarion smirked, picking a few stray leaves from his clothes. He had just returned from a lengthy scouting trip assessing the hunter they may parley with.

It had been several days of traversing rocky footpaths until they arrived in the Sunlit Wetlands. Several days of anxious nights wondering if Cazador sent more pawns to retrieve him. Several days of nothing more than forlorn glances exchanged with the songstress.

Wyll crossed his arms, concentrating on Astarion’s face. “That at least bodes well. Did he look familiar to you?”

“Not at all. Though I have met a lot of the city’s miscreants over the years, it’s possible he’s a scorned lover of a lover that Cazador convinced to seek vengeance. He had a lot of connections in the city—so it’s hard to say.”

“Let’s fucking goooo,” Karlach roared as her axe split apart a piece of log. She swiped away wood dustings from her brow, turning to the vampire. “What makes you think this is Cazador’s doing, fancy boy?”

“Oh, how could I forget that it must be one of my many adoring fans, come to shake my hand out in the middle of blasted nowhere,” Astarion replied with a sneer. “Tell me: who else could it be?!”

Of course it had to be his former master! Cazador Szarr would do anything to ensure his spawns stayed forever reliant upon him. For them to know that survival without him wasn’t possible. Astarion knew deep down that no matter how he repeatedly longed for freedom, if he showed up, without question the vampire spawn would still feel betrothed as a slave to enact his heinous mandates. Compelled or not, the attachment to him remained.

The fiery tiefling teetered her axe over her shoulder, ready to swing downward again. “Alright. Alright. As much as I’m always raring to go, I just want to be sure we aren’t getting caught in a trap, yea?”

She had a point. Cazador, reclusive as he was, commandeered powers that most were unaware. Their group was mighty, but could they defeat a vampire lord? It would be nearly impossible, but the fraction of a percentage that they could end his life for good, ignited an invaluable resolve inside of the spawn.

Astarion debonairly examined his nails. “Well darlings, I’m sure I can go about this on my own if you’re not up for a bit of potential excitement.”

“I have every bit of faith you can handle this by yourself, but I think it goes without saying that hunters are all too well-versed in regions such as these. There may be something we don’t know from what you’ve investigated,” Wyll interjected.

“Why Wyll, the famed monster hunter is going to help protect a monster?! I could kiss you! Or bite you—if that is your preference,” the vampire giddily responded, clasping his hands together as he flashed the tip of his fang.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves Astarion,” Wyll chuckled, uncrossing his arms to gesture a stop signal with his hand. “Shall we say around morrow’s noon we head down to speak with the stranger?”

“I’d prefer to stab first, but if you insist, who am I to deny such a handsome face?” Astarion flirtatiously bowed his head.

Karlach visibly shrugged her shoulders, breathing out a long sigh. “Ugh, finnnne. Let’s get this good and over with before something awful happens to your pretty face and you break someone’s fucking heart.”

“My dearest Karlach, are you saying you wouldn’t miss me?”

“I’m saying that our leader wouldn’t be all too happy with any of us if we just let you sod off on your own,” she clarified firmly. “By the way, you may want to speak with Tav about our plans.”

The vampire fisted his hand near his mouth, pretending to cough. “Ahem, well, I’m sure she’s been far too busy entertaining our newest druidic hunk we’ve adopted to camp. They’ve been practically braiding each other's hair since the party.”

“Gods, you don’t sound jealous at all,” she teased. “And look who it is! Mornin’ to you soldier!”

And there she was. Trailing into camp on melodies she sang under her breath. Lavender and vanilla invisibly suffocating him with its whorls of scent around his neck.

Wyll waved in her direction. “Tav! Could we trouble you for a moment?”

Tav quietly nodded, giving him a subtle smile out of the corner of her mouth.

“Astarion just returned back from surveying the bog and it would seem that this hunter is currently alone. Few weapons, but I reckon he has the good sense to protect himself with other means.”

“The three of us are heading down to speak with him come highsun tomorrow. But, if shit goes bad, we’ll be armed,” Karlach added, flexing her arm high in the air. “Hey, are you okay? You look awful.”

“There is nothing to worry about, Karlach. Personal matters.” The bard tried to peer behind the tiefling, staring at the elven man that was clearly avoiding her. “Astarion, did you approve of this?”

He raised his head, the state of her startling him. The skin around her eyes was swollen, a glaze of wetness having long filmed over her sclera. It was evident she had been crying on and off since their last encounter. She was lacking her usual demure aura, visibly rundown.

Astarion cocked a bleary eyebrow at her. “I did.”

“Then, I trust you to handle this to the best of your abilities.”

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

In the middle of the night’s air, Astarion stood outside of her tent entrance, overwrought with a queasiness burning the walls in his stomach.

After their argument several days ago, he left in a panicked state to hide under the forest canopy bordering their camp. The illusion of hyperventilation attacked his lungs—a memory of it really—as he held onto the bulwarked trunk of a tree. And then, blood spewed from his mouth. He leaned over, coughing and vomiting up a mouthful of the bear’s crimson he consumed earlier that evening.

He had charmed and manipulated Tav enough times to create the image that would steal her away like a rogue in the night. And she craved it. She wanted him to fill the role of her abductor, appearing from behind the curtains in her bedroom, to entice her with cool lips on her knuckles and sworn covenants of intimacy with his bite. Urging her to just let go.

Yet, his plan kept hitting snags.

Without a doubt, he knew his instinctual techniques were all in order. When there had been a few mishaps, he quickly adapted and switched his tactics. But, what he didn’t account for—what he had little to no proficiency in—was dealing with these people’s bygone histories for this length of time. Try as he might to reluctantly focus on the lamentable surface details of the bard and the kettle of vultures—their companions—that circled the hearth of their campfire, piles of their shit kept unearthing themselves like the carcasses of burying beetles.

And he didn’t fucking care.

Why should he? He didn’t know them. Oh, they were a formidable bunch—each having inherited an adeptness for physical or magical strength. He extended his belief in them about as far as relying on them in battle would allow him. But, what had they truly done for him otherwise? It wasn’t them that offered mercy upon his vampiric existence and allowed him to stay within their group. It wasn’t them that made sure he was properly fed, baptizing him in their blood.

No, the only person he owed a speckle of his acknowledgement was the songbird with the voice of singing jewels. Though she challenged him at every nook and cranny of their time together, she was the only one to judge him in such a way that seemed fairly balanced.

Until now.

Tav with her saintly observations, was becoming aware of his methodical ministries. Perhaps not in the sense that she could pinpoint exactly what his strategy was, but gods, her cursed awareness and the cloistered tale of her former life, filled him with enough discomfort he almost considered forgoing his plan entirely.

She knew something was amiss with him. She knew he had to be embellishing everytime he damn near spoke to her about anything other than his wretched past. So, why didn’t she make more of an effort to single him out and put him on trial? Had she been waiting for him to tell her otherwise? To correct her misgivings she was having about him.

It made him uneasy to not know. He could poke around in her mind with their worms, but that certainly wouldn’t bode well if she was unreceptive to the notion.

What an absolute shitshow, Astarion chastised when a strained laugh cut silently through his teeth.

Not to mention the realization that it was not only the façade of her companionship and intimacy he would have to contend with. This foe was clever—more so than he. It had been in her life years before him. Knew her in ways he had yet to scour. And when she tried to disobey it, it had a way of enticing her back into the comfort of its everlasting punishment.

And the name of such a formidable nemesis? Her past.

He couldn’t afford to lose her—not yet. It was too soon and far too late to humor his whims on another camp occupant. Nay, he would see this through to the end. Tav’s or anyone else’s lives be damned!

“I can smell the bergamot in your oils,” a meek voice breathed out. “You can come in whenever you’re ready.”

Astarion deeply inhaled, preparing himself to face her, knowing he may have to use his body for another nightfall to convince her not to forsake him. His performance hinged on being immaculate tonight—to be everything she wanted.

Another transaction: imitated comfort for the reinstated troth of her loyalty.

He lowered himself to his knees and opened the flap of her tent to enter. Tav sat with the used lute on her lap, twisting and tuning the pegs on her bare thighs. She struck a chord, listening intently as the sounds vibrated off the walls of blue linen, then adjusted further or moved onto the next string.

She lifted her head to acknowledge him. With the candlelight casting a golden glow across her face, Astarion thought this may have been one of the few times she possessed such a delicate lethargy.

“Is something the matter?”

“I—no,” He paused. What would be the right thing to say in this situation? “I thought it would be in my good nature to check in on you. But, if now isn’t a good time, I can come back later.”

Tav blinked at him several times, then gestured for him to come further in with a nod. He scooted closer to her on his knees, allowing the flap of the tent to cascade off his back like a discarded blanket.

“I'm not a fan of this lute, especially the strings on it, but some things can’t be helped right now. I should be grateful Alfira could even find one available for me,” she spoke softly as if he wasn’t there. “Hopefully, when we make it to a different area or even the city, I can buy a new one.”

The vampire cleared his throat, resting his sweating palms on his thighs. “There’s differences between them? I mean, of course the details are not the same, but what of the sound?”

A shallow smile formed at the corner of her mouth as she continued fiddling with the tune. “Lutes, flutes, drums, violins—any musical instrument really—sounds different depending on several factors. The material used. Strings. Weight. Length. It’s all a determining factor for the sound produced.”

“What type of wood do you prefer for your lutes?”

The messy bun pinned on top of her head bobbed as she popped her head up to stare at him. “Spruce. Always spruce. It has the brightest sound—perfect for ballads.” She pushed her bangs to the side as an afterthought, placing the instrument by her side. “I appreciate you coming here tonight, but you don’t need to pretend you’re actually interested in a music lesson.”

“My dear, I have quite the appreciation for the arts of all kinds,” he grinned. “However, since your perception precedes you, I’m here because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. And then I realized that the whole thinking part was actually a worry.” He covered his lies by slowly lifting his eyes under a refuge furled lashes to peer at her.

“You don’t need to worry about me,” Tav stated, pursing her lips.

“I’ll have you know, that I could be sinking my fangs into a deer al fresco right about now, but instead I choose to be here. Now, let’s forego this game of hopscotch and chat.”

She ran the pads of her fingers along the edging of her nightshirt. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to revisit parts of our disagreement from a few days ago—if you’re willing to talk about it with me.”

He wasn’t willing, but what choice did he have if he wanted to keep up this charade with her?

Astarion cocked his head to the side to nod, flaring his nostrils with a practiced breath. “If it's truly that bothersome to you, then I suppose I could pencil you in right this very second to listen.”

He could hear the strums of her pulse trembling. She was nervous.

Blood rushed to her lips, coloring them in roses. He saw tears welling up, threatening to spill over her lower lids. She could no longer hold it in. “First of all: I’m so so sorry Astarion. What you said about ‘power’ reminded me so much of…I…I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions like I did. You are your own person—not some reanimated villain of my tragedies.”

Ah, so she wished to focus on her reactions instead of the subject he hastily broached during his blood drunken stupor. How very like her to satisfy her own accountability. This could work in his favor.

Astarion would not press. Should she circle back to his unfavorable comments, well, he could always blame it on the mind flayer tadpole having deceptively influenced his mind after their encounter with other ‘true souls.’ In case he needed to change routes in the moment to suit her thoughts and actions, he made a mental note to be considerably more deliberate in reading her facial expressions.

Finding out just how much power these worms wielded, delighted the vamp. Of course they would be valuable in advancing his fight against Cazador, but directing those around him to do as he pleased? Gods.

The positions he could seat! The material wealth he could own! The liberty to indulge in all manners of debauchery and authority!

A future living side by side with an illithid creation suddenly didn’t sound so horrible.

“May I ask who he is?” He questioned, trying to inflict his tone to a more polite wisp.

She shied away from looking at him directly. Guilt-ridden and hiccuping. Tav’s lips trembled, shaking her head to refuse him while she continued to weep.

It intrigued Astarion to see the normally strong-hearted woman bearing this unknown man’s crown of thorns with the pith of his blackened blood dripping from her eyes like melted candles. Days ago, during their night’s quarrel, the soul mark behind his ear hammered rapidly to the point of searing pain when she mentioned him. This man—this incubus—still choked her with his malignant hands, even though he was probably leagues away.

The hells cracked open, And he was reborn. With evil tongues spoken, Her scrawled promises would not be mourned.

While bewitching the bard had been as ordinary to Astarion as any everyday routine, she was hiding the flotsam of her personal dogmas sundered by this same mortal, making his task all the more difficult. A heretic to her own emotions.

They were both slaves to their pasts and towed the weighted cold night visions where escape seemed nothing more than mere fantasy. And he felt something by this acknowledgment. A blink of connection to her in the form of empathy.

Empathy?

Hells, it had been so long since he knew any emotion except anger, terror, and numbness. But, empathy held dire consequences. One of the last times he felt any ounce of said emotion, cost him a year of starvation inside of that derelict burial place. The memory still seemed so fresh in comparison to the ages he’d lived. If he let himself know empathy once more, it would mean allowing himself to be in a position of the same weakness he had been in for centuries.

“You don’t understand how awful I feel for how I reacted,” Tav managed to squeeze out of her throat.

He moved further within the tent to sit cross-legged in front of her, angling his head downwards to grab her attention. “Silly creature, of course I understand how awful you feel. Your heart is literally an open wound gushing onto everyone it passes. If someone ran into you, YOU would be the one to apologize.”

“We’re still alive, aren’t we? Well, you are at least, but I do have the advantage of being ravishing forever,” he added with a quip.

The bard laughed as her body shook with sobs. Hands flew to her face, catching the falling tears with dabs of her fingertips.

“Darling.” He reached out to her with his palm up. “Come here. I can’t leave you blubbering like some muppet begging for scraps.”

Taking a hesitant breath, Tav placed her hand gingerly into the inviting salve he offered, holding onto it tightly. “A moment longer. I have more to say.”

Astarion’s mind filled with dread. If she terminated their agreement, that would be it; his protection would cease. The possibility of Cazador dragging him off screaming into the shadows, felt more real than it ever had been. Swiftly, his brain sprang into action. He would use whatever methods possible to adapt.

Touch. Comfort. Sex. Promises. Encouragement. Which would she need?

“Don’t keep me in suspense now, my sweet. You know how I hate to wait,” he smirked in his typical silvery tone.

“I’m trying to word this as not to sound like a psychotic lover here,” she laughed anxiously. “But, I have run ’us’ through my mind more times than I can count and I keep wondering if it would be best if we end whatever this is between us. Casual distractions would be much easier if we didn’t see each other everyday, but we don’t have that luxury and—“

“Do you even like me?” Tav questioned wearily. It was apparent such ideas had been consuming her.

No.

“Do I like you? I mean, you definitely have a certain set of allures about you,” he answered slowly. He wasn’t lying about her qualities—if that’s what people choose to call them—but, no, he did not care for her.

A grimace settled on her expression as she removed her hand from his.

“Were you expecting a more defined answer?”

The bard chewed at her lip lightly with her front tooth. “I’m expecting something that doesn’t feel like you’re acting on stage,” she replied stiffly. “You seem so versed in saying all the right things, but there is a pit in my stomach warning me it’s not all true. I don’t want you to force yourself with me.”

Oh, but he would force himself. His survival depended on it.

The spawn ran his hand through his curls, flashing a glib smile she didn’t detect. “Ha! Could that be your own insecurities speaking? Or shall I get down on my knees and recite a sonnet of my undying affections for you? Would you believe me then?”

Turning away, she looked past him towards the ground. “Is it so wrong for me to desire something real, Astarion?”

Hope.

She wanted hope.

He could perform hope.

The vampire enclosed her ruddy cheek with his hand, thumbing a gentle swipe across the roundest point. She shut her eyelids lazily, microscopic tears still adhering on her lashes like diamond dust.

“Don’t turn away from me, Tavelle,” he commanded her gently. “A woman that has as much to offer as you, deserves to hold her head up high and be worshiped.”

As if to confirm her yearning for him, her eyes roamed half-opened to search his face. She fisted the ruffling of his shift tightly, pulling herself taut against his chest to crash her lips fervently against his with a tight gasp.

The kiss was urgent. Delivered as if they’d both turn into smoke in an instant. Like she’ll lose me someday, Astarion thought.

He could hear her heartbeat stepping out of its darkness, begging, begging, begging him to cradle her adorations for him.

Kneading his pale lips on hers instinctually, she tangled a free hand into waves of silvery-white earning her a low hum from the deepest reaches of his voice box. “Star…,” she incanted into his mouth.

Fluidly, he reached up to unpin her hair, allowing her tresses to fall over her shoulders. He decorated his lithe digits with her silken strands, tugging her head gently backwards to drop fervid pecks down her throat. She cried out, sputtering lilting syllables of his name everytime he idly rearranged his hold on her hair.

Tav held onto his arms as he worked his tongue in circles. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me,” she pleaded, clawing at his clothes.

Releasing her hair, he pulled Tav back in to seam their mouths together. She sucked tenderly on his upper lip, grazing her tongue horizontally across it, before she finally nipped at it playfully.

He pushed his nose into her cheek, abruptly stopping them. She was short of breath, heaving in anticipation for him to kiss her again.

Grabbing her chin firmly, Astarion’s eyes flitted down to her lips as he spoke mere centimeters from them. ”You’ve slowly been driving me insane,” he roughly asserted, avoiding her want for affirmations.

She snuck her fingers up the length of him, lacing them behind his neck. Her lips parted, a husky reply threatening to swallow them whole. “What do you mean to do with me then?”

A lukewarm thumb found safety pressed against her lips. The tip of her tongue tunneled through the gap of her mouth and licked a teasing small patch of skin on the inside of it. Debauched images of him drawing blood from her tongue filled his mind. Biting and biting every inch of her supple flesh until he had his fill of her essence settling like a fine wine in his veins. He panted maddeningly at the thought, his shaft hardening immediately.

Then, the minx slinkingly shifted onto his lap, encircling her legs on either side of his hips. She undulated on the length of his bulge compressed in the middle of her soaked smalls and his trousers. Insolently, she yanked a handful of his hair. He hissed at the delicious pain now aching through his cock and the back of his head.

Pallid dexterous hands ripped the front of her shirt open, cutting buttons loose to fly into the air. The strength of his paw found her breast hiding behind the torn fabric and he squeezed it considerably, pinching an erect nipple. She moaned his name, trying to keep her body upright.

Sharp teeth nibbled a sliver of flesh near the corner of her lips. “Is this what you need? For me to take you as I please?”

Tav nodded innocently, her whole body turning flush with desire.

And then something feral snapped inside of Astarion. That spine-tingling rapacious trait that was half vampire and half carnal man. He could have her if he wanted her; whenever he wanted. Fill him with her blood just to sate him. Her life belonged to him, if he so chose to take it.

“You can follow instructions properly, can’t you sweetheart?” Astarion grumbled as he tucked strands of her hair behind her ear. A strangled noise squeaked from her mouth as she shook her head. “Good. Now listen closely: I want you to unlace my pants, push your smalls to the side, and slide my cock inside that very creamy slit of yours.”

The songstress whimpered, whilst she untied the bindings of his fly, “I want to be good for you Astarion.”

Fuck, his name sounded like the filthiest sin coming from her mouth.

He peeled back the material of her shirt from her heaving bosom, exposing her soft milkiness. Humming around one of her pink buds that popped into his mouth, he felt her remove him from his pants with a few precursory strokes. Instinctively, his gaze feasted on the light bluish veins spreading across her breasts. Just a single bite couldn’t hurt—?

“Hells,” he groaned as she sunk the crown of his cock into her clenching heat. “You like being this drenched for me, don’t you?”

“Only you…gods…make me like this,” Tav sang out, holding the back of his head while she adjusted to him inside her.

Her wetness dripped down his length as she stuffed him further into her, trickling down to settle on his testicles. A howling wail started from the middle of Tav’s diaphragm up through her windpipe when she glided up his erect prick once and came back down to his hilt. Astarion chased her mouth with his, muffling her frenzy with open-mouthed kisses.

“Shhh. Shh, songbird,” he hushed in a chuckle. “We are about to wake the lot of this camp soon.”

“I’m sorry. Just love…having you…inside of me,” she giggled lowly, kissing him with blistering ardor between her words.

Surprising the bard by grabbing under her ass, Astarion cajoled her to ride the stiff hardness in his lap. Tav hooked herself onto his shoulders, using them for support while she bounced upon him. Her tits brushed against his shirt with her movements, causing her swollen buds to stay hardened.

My prodigal son, what do we have here?

Master.

Ah, of course. Tonight would belong to the echoes of Cazador. There would be no need for the paralysis that enthralled the spawn’s body to take over, not when his master’s commands needed to be minded.

The vampire busied his fingertips by pressing them further into her flesh, focusing on her slickness encompassing all those nerves at the tip of his cock. He pushed her all the way down to his base, relishing the swaddling of her warmth around him.

A bard, hmm? Bring her to me.

Yes, master.

He reached a hand down in between them to swipe his thumb through her folds, caressing her clit in gentle circles. Tav’s mouth formed into a small “o.”

Look at her—enjoying your flesh like a whore. She’s exactly like all the others. You are only meant to satisfy her needs as a means to fulfill my hunger.

I won’t disobey you master.

“My sweet, turn around and let me fuck you from behind,” he urged mildly, trying to maintain his composure.

Astarion couldn’t let her see. He was steadily losing his grip on their surroundings, disappearing into the quilted stars of the night sky he summoned as he disconnected. If she saw he wasn’t present again, she would send him away.

Tav didn’t respond, continuing to pump his shaft with her tight cunt at a steady pace. She opened and closed her mouth in silent moans, replaced by heady breaths. Did she not hear him? He placed his hands on her waist attempting to settle her motions.

Would you like to hear her sing, Astarion? How do you think she’ll sound with her blood gurgling in her throat as I feed from her?

“Turn around,” he demanded firmly.

Body slowing to a near halt, she cupped his cheeks with a litany of fingers rasping the sharpness of his bones. She pressed a peck to his lips. “Lover, I want to look into your eyes while I’m on top.”

He bucked his hips maneuvering his legs to lift her off of him enough to push her down onto her bedroll. Spreading her legs open, he swiftly settled in between her thighs, and brashly reentered her with a concrete plunge. The bard yelped in surprise, clutching his biceps tightly.

Soulmates? Tsk. Did my beloved spawn forget that he is not allowed to be connected to anything except me? Get rid of her mark.

I wish to please you master. Allow me to show my fealty to you.

His vision rapidly moved from side to side until he arched Tav into him to rest his forehead onto her soulmate mark, hiding, endeavoring it to disappear on its own so he wouldn’t have to hurt her. He thrust up into her hurriedly, trying to chase her to the banks of her climax to end his delusions.

“Wait,” she uttered as he drove into her.

Astarion ignored her, opening his mouth to frame his teeth around her soul mark. He must dispose of it.

“Astarion, no. Don’t bite there,” Tav ordered, snaring his curls at the root. “Look at me. Please.”

He’s everywhere. He knows where I am. He’s already taken everything from me. I’ll never be free, Astarion screamed inwardly in anguish.

His fangs pricked the first layer of her epidermis, pellets of crimson gathering around the invasion. The bard severely yanked his head to detach him, dribbles of her blood coating his lips. “I said no! GET OFF OF ME,” she shrieked, thrashing her body under him.

They became motionless. Her face had morphed into thousands upon thousands of blurry conquests. Voices: high and low, moaning, whispering their pleasures. Luring each of them in the dead of night to their death eternal. And Astarion, bound to the scaffold with a noose around his neck, forever being led back into Cazador’s arms.

And then her eyes were suddenly there in focus. Afraid and sorrowful. Full of tears. For her. For him. Rainy storm clouds floating across the earth. Tav with her inquisitor view, leading him on a pilgrimage away from the haunts of his deadened soul.

She covered her nakedness, pulling her ripped shirt over her breasts. Two pin prick spots of blood seeped through the fabric, reminding him of his violation. He was disgusted with himself.

What had he done?

“Tav, I’m sor—,” Astarion proclaimed hoarsely, loosening his brace on her waist.

Tav reached up to place a hand on his cheek. “Leave,” her voice whispered sternly.

He couldn’t wash this away and escape what he was made into.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Burning iron-vine powder levitated in a cloudy haze around them.

A Gur?! A godsdamned bloody Gur. Cazador’s cruel humor never seemed to fail; he must have sent him.

His mind started to race. Astarion’s safety may be coming to an end. It was a misjudgement to ever presume that he could disappear without facing the repercussions of his former master. Would he ever have somewhere to land from all this falling?

“You’re Astarion?!” The monster hunter loudly said in surprise. “Apologies to your companions, but you’ll need to come with me.”

“Gandrel, was it? I’m not going anywhere.” Astarion removed the blade from his back, pointing it towards the man.

“Fuck! This is bad,” Karlach muttered to Wyll.

“Then, I’m afraid I have no choice but to take you by force,” Gandrel declared, shooting an ‘Ensnaring Strike’ spell at both the vampire and fiery woman.

Thorny vines raised up around their legs, holding them in place. Astarion sliced at them, trying to wriggle free, but the bindings only reinforced their seizure. “Uh, a little help?!”

He was too distracted to fight. Flooded by the memory of how Tav’s tears flowed like blown stars living their final moments. But, he could still feel her hands upon his cheeks. Her hands where flowers bloomed in the dark; flowers that emerged wherever she appeared.

Karlach swung her axe in a criss-cross pattern. “I can’t move! Wyll, you’ll need to repel him!”

Wyll lunged forward casting an Eldritch Blast that narrowly missed the hunter’s cheek. “Damn!”

Gandrel placed another arrow in his crossbow, aiming it at the spawn as he approached. “I’m sorry it had to come to this, but you’re needed else—”

The hunter suddenly collapsed onto one knee, a spray of blood ejecting from his mouth. He looked down at the arrow protruding out of his right side, then looked past the spawn.

Astarion followed his gaze, mouth wide open in shock when he reached his destination. “Songbird? But, why?! I don't—”

Tav threw down her bow, reaching to unsheathe her rapier. “You’re a beacon of trouble, ‘Star.”

27 notes · View notes

roonyxx · 7 months

Text

The Raven: Part 10

Summary: A new threat to the world brings the boys back in action. She is big and bad, very bad. But is everything as it seems or is there more to her story?

Pairing: Dean x reader

Trope: enemies to lovers

Word count: 3955

Chapter warnings: language, angst, smut (18+ only!)

A/N: The end is here, thank you all for following along this journey. I loved writing this chapter :)

The Raven Masterlist

My Masterlist

Buy me a coffee

-Three months later –

My life now mainly exists out of research and sleep. It has been three months since I last saw Y/n and I can feel the effect of it.

The loneliness, the emptiness, the hurt… it is horrible.

Sam and Cas have been helping me, we checked every book on time lines, time alternation, time avoidance, so many more things I can’t even remember.

“Dean… what if there isn’t another way. I mean, she would have found it if there was one.” Sam says.

“There has to be something.” I sigh and lean back in the chair, sipping my whiskey. I won’t accept a life without her.

I looked for her, I even went to her little house in the woods but it is abandoned now, I don’t know where she is. She could be anywhere in the world.

Cas went to see if Heaven could find her but no. He also informed them that she won’t raise an army of the dead as long as they keep the current time line, they reluctantly agreed.

So that leaves my plan B, a plan I initially didn’t want to use but now have too.

I get up and start looking through the books.

“You still organize them in alphabetical order?” I ask my brother.

“Of course, why?”

My finger traces over the spines of the books, focusing on the titles; Vahanas, Valkyrie, Vampires, Vetala,...

Ah Visata.

We only have one small book on it, a handwritten journal of an old man of letters, and it contains about thirty pages. Sam and I must have read it a hundred times by now, but something stood up to me.

Leaving through the book I stop when I find what I need.

“We read it a millions times Dean, it won’t help us. It has things we already know or rituals that are useless.” Sam speaks up when he sees me going through it again.

“Not completely useless.” I answer when I find the ritual I need. I turn the book upside down and slide it towards Sam who is sitting opposite of me.

“A bonding ritual?” he looks up at me, “How can this help us?”

“What if we can tie her powers to something, to keep me from dying?”

“To what? And she won’t even agree to be bonded.”

“You’re not gonna like what I will say.” I start and see his worried face.

“To what…”

“To me.”

I could have guessed she was hiding in New Orleans, the city of Witches. We were able to track her with a spell in the journal.

Everything is ready for my plan B, everything except for convincing her.

It already took two weeks to convince Sam and another week to gather everything for the ritual itself.

All we need now is her.

“You’re nervous.” Sam notices.

“Of course I am. I’m about to see my wife who is more powerful than god and asked me to stay away.”

“She won’t hurt you.” Sam says.

“I know, I’m more worried about her not agreeing.”

Sam sighs, “I am still not 100% on board with this, Dean. It’s crazy.”

“Isn’t crazy what we do?” I say with a small smile and knock on the bayou house.

Please be here…

She opens the door. She’s wearing long leggings and a t-shirt with, thanks to Sam, a bullet hole in it. She looks normal for the rest, sunglasses on, hair loose. She did loose some weight and looks a little pale.

Seems like I’m not the only one that has been suffering from our separation.

“Hi baby.” I say with a small smile.

She slowly shakes her head.

“Dean… you’re making it more difficult than it has to be. You really want me to take your memories?”

“I found a way.” I say and watch her frown.

“There isn’t another way, I looked everywhere.”

“There is.” I hand over the journal with the page marker set to the bonding ritual.

She hesitantly takes and opens it, reading what is inside. She starts shaking her head and closes the book. Sticking out her arm, she’s handing it back to me.

“No.” is all she says.

“What- You didn’t even hear what I have to say!” I argue.

“I’m not getting bonded to something. If I am losing you the last thing I want is losing my power.” She starts to close the door but I stop it by slamming my foot in between.

I know she could snap my foot right off with this door but she just sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Not something.” I push open the door and look her in the eyes, “Someone.”

She frowns, “Someone?” she shakes her head more.

“I don’t want to share my powers. Most people wouldn’t even survive it, the person has to have only good intentions, because these powers can not fall into the wrong hands. I would tie my life to theirs so if I die they die or vice versa. I don’t trust anyone enough for that. And they can’t be human, they have to be a witch or-“

“Or a vessel, of an archangel, that would be sufficient.” I cut her off.

She’s staring at me and I see it click in her mind.

“What.” She snaps, “What are you saying.”

“You know exactly what I am saying, baby.” I say with a grin.

Her head turns towards Sam who has been quiet all this time.

“You agree to this?” she asks him.

Sam takes a deep breath, “I do.”

His answer surprises me, only minutes ago he was telling me that he wasn’t fully on board.

“He’s not happy, I can see it eating away at him. And if this is really what he wants, what will make him happy, who am I to say no?” Sam reasons. “He’s also extremely stubborn.”

I can’t help the chuckle from escaping my throat.

She looks at me, “You could die during this ritual.”

“The chances are small, we did our research.”

She pushes up her sunglasses and grips my face, her hands transforming onto long black claws. They press into my cheeks but they don’t cut. Her eyes dance over my face, looking, searching for a reason to send me away, to deny me.

“I miss you, Y/n.” I whisper to her. “I want my tomorrow back.”

I see her mask crack and break, her eyes welling up with water.

“You’re such a selfless, reckless dick.” She says but I can see a hint of a smile and I just know that she’s starting to consider it.

“I’m your selfless, reckless dick.” I smile and glance down at her lips, I want to kiss her so badly but I can’t.

Not yet.

She lets my face go and opens the door fully so Sam and I can go inside.

“You prepared the ritual? You have everything?” she asks us when we step inside.

“Everything but a witch.” I say.

“You have one.” She answers.

“You’re actually doing it?” Sam says in wonder and I’m glad he asks because I also need to know for sure.

She holds up her hands, “Let me look more into it, see if you two did everything alright and then… if Dean still wants too… yes.”

The next five hours we go over every single detail of the ritual. Where does it have to preformed, at what time, the position of the moon, the stars and the sun. the weather also counts. She makes sure we got all the right ingredients and the right order to put them together.

And then, the bonding. This is the only part Sam and I didn’t understand, we hope Y/n does.

“The book doesn’t go into detail about the bonding part. It just says ‘the next and last step of the bonding ritual is to preform the joining.’ What is it?”

A blush crawls over her face, “Ah” she says.

“Ah? Ah what?” Sam looks at her.

“The joining is an old term for a ritual with a primal base, as in … sex.” She sheepishly looks up at me.

“Oh. So we need to have sex during the ritual to make it work?”

She nods.

“So Sam helping us out is maybe a bad idea.” I say next

“Yes also because we will uhm…” her blush grows redder “We will produce pheromones and he might get attracted to it and will want to join.” She rushes out quickly.

I turn my head to Sam, who is looking a little green now.

“You get the fuck away from us.” I tell him.

“Oh yes, don’t worry.”

A little giggle escapes her lips, “One Winchester is already overwhelming, but two-“

“Do not finish whatever you’re saying.” I cut her off and wrap a hand around her neck, “You’re mine.”

“I-“ her eyes drop to my lips and she licks her own before biting down on it.

Fuck… it’s taking everything in me to not replace her teeth with mine…

Sam clears his throat, “Guys… keep it for tonight.”

We both snap out of it and I let go of her neck.

“How will I not die when we get… intimate?” it’s something that’s been floating in my head since she said we need to have sex to complete it.

“The ritual will keep you safe, if it works. There is still a small chance that my powers won’t accept you.”

“I know the risks, baby. I’m ready to take them.”

She just gives a little nod.

“So sunset is when you guys start?” Sam asks, “I will put everything ready. You two get ready. I’ll be gone by the time you two start.” He looks at me.

“Please be careful… I don’t want to loose you.” Sam says.

“You won’t loose me.” It tell him.

We hug tightly and then he leaves to set everything up.

I turn to Y/n.

“It’s my turn to go?” The ritual has to be in the middle of the woods.

Y/n found a space near here and explained the way to me and Sam. It’s a soft meadow surrounded by trees and has a little pond. We need to be as close to nature and the primal instincts as possible. So for this to work, I need to find her in the woods, ‘capture’ her and bring her to the meadow to claim her as mine.

Doing it all naked.

“Yes, you remember what you have to do?” she asks me.

“I do.”

The sun has set and all I can hear are the birds whistling their last song for today. I am searching my way through the thick forest and sure as hell hope that I find Y/n soon.

It’s not cold, but definitely not warm enough to be running around naked.

Let’s hope I don’t run into anyone but my baby.

It’s been an hour since I left her. I asked where she would leave to find her more easily but that’s not how the ritual works. I have to do it all by myself.

So I keep my breathing controlled and my steps light to hear my surroundings.

She did say she could use some tricks to help me.

And I smile when I smell her trick.

Jasmine.

Quietly I follow her scent, growing more eager with every step I take until I see her.

My breath catches in my throat at the sight of her. She hasn’t spotted me yet.

She is like me, stark naked. Her hair is loose in the wind and her skin almost glows in the early moon light.

Gorgeous isn’t enough to describe her.

Slowly I make my way to her, step by step, I come closer.

My whole body is preparing to catch her. My hands itching to touch her skin, my lips tingling for a taste of her, and my dick… well, let’s say he’s more than ready.

I am so close I can hear her breathing. I use the shadows to slip and hide in them, but I step on a particularly dry stick and it snaps under my foot.

Her head turns into my direction and I can see just a hint of a smile before she sprints away from me.

With a deep chuckle I leave my hiding spot and run after her.

Her breaths are fast and high pitched, but every time she look over her shoulder at me, I see that smile. It makes me run faster.

The road is becoming familiar and I know she is running towards the meadow, I know I have to catch her before she reaches it or it won’t work.

I can see the green grass poking through the trees, I run faster. She’s testing me. I know she is.

The trees grow thinner and the reflection of the moon upon the pond is lighting up the whole meadow, it is beautiful.

Right before her left foot touches the soft grass, I wrap my arms around her waist and lift her up in the air, I run with her into the meadow and everything becomes warm and silent aside from our ragged breathing. This place is definitely magical.

Flipping her in my arms I let her slide down my body until we are face to face.

“You almost ruined it.” I pant at her.

“I knew you would catch me in time.” She smiles as she wraps her legs around my waist and I nearly go to my knees when I feel her core snuggled against my pelvis, her arousal forming a wet patch on my skin.

“You like being chased, baby?” I grin and lick my lips as I make my way to the middle of the meadow.

“I like being chased by you, especially naked.” She lower her face to my neck and starts placing hot, wet, open mouth kisses on my neck.

My cock twitches against her ass and she smiles, lifting herself up enough to trap my cock between my tummy and her pussy. She then torturously starts to rub along the length of me.

“O-oh fuck.” I hold her tighter against me and lay us down on the grass. I look down at her.

She’s looking at me, her pupils blown wide, her hair all spread out around her head like a halo. She brings a finger to her lips and sucks it into her mouth before dragging it down her body until she reaches the apex of her thighs.

I’m on my knees between her legs, looking at how she teases her own clit.

My cock starts to throb and leak, I wrap my hand around it and start pumping it tightly and very slow.

“Do you feel it, Dean?” she mewls while arching her back as she sinks two fingers inside her.

And I do, the smell of her all around me, the parts of her skin that are touching mine are burning, the pressing warmth of the meadow. The desperate sounds she is making.

We are in heat.

“Yes baby.” I moan and watch her pleasure herself. I could stay here forever.

“Dean.” She moans my name while her other hand starts squeezing her boob, her nipples taut with hormones.

I bend over her and take one of them in my mouth, sucking hard on it. Her hand lets go of her other boob and sinks into my hair, tugging on it hard enough to make me moan.

“Dean” she moans again, “T-touch me.” She pants.

I push away her hand and replace it with mine, sinking two fingers deep into her heat, stretching her out. She arches her back into me and I let her nipple pop from my mouth to watch her face.

Slowly I start pumping my fingers, loving to see her squirm.

“M-my clit, please Dean.” She begs me.

I put my thumb on her clit and add a fair amount of pressure on it. My fingers are slipping in so easily and the sound of her slickness is filling the meadow.

“S-so wet,” I bend to lick the side of her neck, “All for me?” I ask her with a husky voice.

Her hand wraps around my forearm that is pleasuring her and she nods enthusiastically.

“D-don’t stop.” She starts rolling her hips and I let her ride my hand to take what she needs. When her squirming becomes more urgent I fasten the pace of my fingers plunging inside her.

“Y-yesyesyes.” She praises me, and I can’t decide what I want to see more when she comes.

Her face contorted in bliss,

Or her pussy gushing her arousal over my hand?

It won’t be the last orgasm I give her tonight, so for now I will choose her pussy.

“More.” She breathes out and I smile.

If she wants more, she will get more.

Pushing my fingers as deep as I can I start to roughly vibrate my hands, simultaneously rubbing that sweet spot inside while harshly rubbing her clit.

Her entire body arches while her thighs begin to shake around my hand. Her mouth is shaped in an ‘O’ but no sound is leaving her lips.

She throws her head back, taking a deep breath, she moans loudly and starts to gush over my hand when she comes, her inner walls clamping over my fingers.

“DEAN” the grip she has on my arm bites and I can feel her nails digging into my skin.

I’m panting with her when she rides out her high. I slow my hand and let her breathe when her body turns limp. Retracting my fingers, I look at how they’re covered in her slickness.

I suck my middle finger inside my mouth and suck her juices right off, a low grumble rolling in my chest at her taste.

I can feel her eyes on me and smile around my finger. I pull it out of my mouth, then I bring my pointer finger to her lips and make her suck it clean. Her eyes rolling back at tasting herself.

I take my hand back and grip her neck, leaning down over her to look in her eyes.

“You know what you taste like?” I ask her.

She shakes her head no and I can’t help but smile at how sinful she looks.

“You taste like mine.” I moan before capturing her lips in an all devouring kiss.

She moans into my mouth and her hands slide into my hair to tug me closer. Every inch of my front is pressed against hers, and I start to rub against her core.

She’s so slick between her thighs, I would almost think we’re in the pond.

“Put me inside, now.” I growl against her lips.

Her hands slips between our bodies and grabs hold of my cock. She grips me so tightly and starts to pump my length, her fingers teasing my tip.

I let out a strangled moan and fist my hand in her hair, tugging her head back to look at her.

“Inside, now.” My voice is so deep, my chest vibrates against hers.

With wicked smile she does as she is told, putting my tip at her entrance and I finally push home.

I groan when her walls hug me tightly, even with the preparation and her being soaked, I can feel the stretch of her around me.

“S-so tight.” I moan.

“Y-you’re just so big.” She chuckles ending in a moan when I push deeper.

I bottom out and she arches her back to accustom to the stretch of me.

I sit up on my knees and put my hands on her hips.

“Look at you.” I say when I take all of her in “All flushed and wet, so ready for me.” I drag my hand down her body.

“All mine.”

I look in her eyes.

“Say it.” I accentuate my words with a sharp thrust that makes her gasp.

“A-All yours Dean.”

I start thrusting into her, deep and slow. Enjoying the drag of her tight walls along my shaft. I look down and watch how well she takes me. How she squirms when I slowly pull out and see my cock covered in her arousal. There is a white ring of her juices on the base of my cock and I grin when I spread her legs wider, pushing them slightly towards her chest.

“You can take me deeper, baby.”

Changing my angle I push in and go deeper, until that ring disappears into the soft hairs curling at the base of my cock and grind into her clit. Her strangled moans are like music to my ears.

“Such a good girl.” I groan when I see how well she takes me. I move my eyes up and watch her face.

She’s sweating, panting and her eyes are black with need, but her smile is what nearly makes me cum right here and now.

I lean over her, and kiss her deep. Thrusting faster, grinding every time I go in.

The kiss is all teeth and tongue, too sloppy to be considered a kiss, we’re both panting and moaning into each other’s mouth.

“I’m close, baby.” I warn her while speeding up my pace.

She wraps her legs around my waist and starts chanting the words for the ritual.

Her own climax is building inside her body, I can feel her body grow taut and her walls hugging my cock.

“Keep going.” She rushes out between the foreign words and I do as she says.

She starts to glow a bright yellow, almost golden light. Her purple dark smoke tumbles out of woods as if it had been waiting there all this time, waiting for a call of it’s master.

The smoke envelops us but I keep going, I am not afraid. The smoke starts to slide over my legs and it feels like a cool blanket thrown over a burn.

“Now” she whispers just before falling of her edge and gushing all over my cock as she comes around me.

“I, Dean Winchester, claim you Y/n, until we are nothing but dust among the stars.” I rush out the words to finalize the ritual and come so deep inside her, filling her up with hot ropes of cum, so much that I can feel it dripping out of her and down my balls.

I moan her name, and it feels like I am roaring as her golden light seeps into my skin and burns through every single nerve and cell of my body.

Her legs and arms wrap tightly around me and keeps a hold of me while the light keeps seeping in.

Her smoke is a wild storm around us, warning of anything close to not come near.

Slowly I come down and the light between us dims and her smoke sinks softly into the ground.

Panting I look at her, she’s still glowing softly, I cup her face and smile.

“It worked.” I pant.

“It did.” Her smile is radiant, “Look.” She lifts my hand and I can see the same kind of glow covering- no coming from my skin.

“Woah” I say in amazement and look at myself and her.

“That’s awesome.” I breathe out.

“I will learn you how to deal with your powers. It won’t be complicated.” Her hand brushes my chest and little gold sparks follow her wake.

“With great power comes great responsibility.” I say with a dorky smile.

She chuckles and grabs my face to kiss me deeply and with all her love.

“I love you, Dean.” She whispers against my lips.

“I love you too, Y/n.” I say back with a smile.

Forever Tags 2023: @jay-and-dean @flamencodiva @snowlovespie @awkward-and-indecisive @hobby27

Dean tags 2023: @akshi8278 @pink-sparkly-witch @verytoadpapersoul @eevvvaa

The Raven: @deans-spinster-witch

(uninteractive tags - meaning: no reblog or comment - have been deleted from my list)

#roonyxx #dean winchester #supernatural #dean x reader #spn fanfic #angst #dean angst #dean smut #the raven #the raven part 10

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plangentlyre · 3 months

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On the rare times that Jessica shows any face of disgruntlement at Jennifer, it comes through in the form of bustling city streets, heavily looming rush hours and the sweltering heat of July summers. To name it more precisely, the perpetrator responsible for the tingle of dissatisfaction that licks across the arcanist wrongly falls solely on a certain blondie.

Her brows have remained furrowed for the past hours as she is dragged from shop to shop without a single hint that her lover acknowledges her presence. The way that Jennifer holds onto her like her designer bags and trendy pink brands without paying her any attention nor look at her way drives a certain surge of want to rush in her blood.

It boils her so heatedly that when Jennifer ignores the annoying lady's sudden closeness in proximity, how she disregards the hand that creeps along her arm and the stare of greed that seeks her as if she were the one who starved in an abandoned campsite under countless full moons with only stories of nightmares and memories to ground her, waiting in yearn for that certain girl to return, everything bursts at the seams.

I don't like this, she thinks and so she summons her critter friends and commands a well-aimed strike at the intrusive lady. A commotion of panic ripples across the boutique, triggering a mass of employees within their distance to shriek and scream at her in fear.

The guards run at her with a falter in their steps and a shiver crawling up their backs as they come to arrest her. She sees Jennifer hurry to pacify them, spewing out needless excuses to vouch for her good character. When she turns to her however, Jessica is already exiting the shop and stomping her way back home.

She rushes to catch her. "What was that all about? I was just about to get a great deal for that handbag and you went all berserk for no reason! What's with you?!"

Jessica's silent response allows Jennifer to continue. "H-Hey! Don't you dare ignore me! If this is some kind of twisted tactic for entertainment, then I hope you know when to watch yourself. You can't just do things so recklessly. You know how much your actions can hurt us."

"Then maybe Jennifer shouldn't have been reckless herself!" The sharpness in Jessica's tone catches the other girl off guard. "Letting yourself fall prey to a vapid lady, giving her more smiles than me... don't you know how much that hurts me too? I hate it."

"Jessica, what are you—?" She stops when Jessica faces her. A look of devastation mars her face and even without a trace of tears dampening her cheeks, the thick coat of blurriness that sheens over her pretty eyes is enough to tell her of its inevitable wreckage.

The way that Jessica shrinks in on herself ever so slightly and looks at her with a keenness akin to a wary animal twists a tight, painful knot at her heart.

Before she can gather her words, Jessica swerves and gallops quickly away from her, leaving Jennifer a permanent image of her hurt expression to plague her restless mind.

And soon after futile hours of searching, that face comes to fill her journal's pages with messily scripted apologies from the hand of its heartsick artist.

#reverse 1999 #blossica #blonney reverse 1999 #jessica reverse 1999 #wanted to indulge myself a little #and went a bit overboard oops #part 2 if someone asks nicely

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yellowjacketsgayfanfic · 9 months

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You and Van say I love you for the first time

SUBMISSION: Adult Van x f!reader where they say 'I love you' to each other for the first time, please <3

You had recently gotten a promotion at work, and as a little surprise, your boss offered you extended PTO. You took this opportunity to have a little vacation with Van. You were originally from New York City, and knowing that Van loved the city, you wanted to take her home to see where you grew up and meet your parents.

Only twenty minutes away from your destination, though, you had a flat tire which wasn't optimal given that you didn't know how to change a tire. You were a city girl, after all.

"Do you have a spare in the back, at least?" Van sighed, crouching down to the ground on the side of the highway, looking at your currently busted tire.

You grimaced. "I... don't know."

The red head lifted herself up and walked to the back of the trunk. She lifted it open and groaned. "How do you not have a spare tire?"

"I don't know! This has never happened before!" You groaned.

"We're going to have to call someone to tow the car to a shop." Van crossed her arms. "Can you get someone to pick us up?"

You nodded. "My brother can come..."

"Not exactly how I thought I would meet your brother." Van chuckled, slamming the trunk shut.

***

Your car was successfully towed away to a shop in Brooklyn. Your brother was able to pick up you and Van and take you back to your parents apartment. No one was home just yet, giving the two of you time to relax and unwind from the events of the day. Your brother had to go back to work, leaving you and Van alone.

"So... this is your bedroom?" Van looked around.

It hadn't changed much since you left for college. It was still packed with books you hadn't had the time to take with you to Pennsylvania, photos from your childhood, and other belongings. "Yeah. This is it."

Your lover hooked around your bed to look at some of the photos on the wall. She smiled to herself. "You were a really cute kid."

You blushed. "This is a little embarrassing. This place is a like a fucking time capsule."

"It's not embarrassing." Van chastised. "It's sweet. This room tells me a lot about who you were before we met."

"Like what?" You questioned, falling back on your mattress.

"Like you were a total book worm." She gestured toward your book shelves. "Who had a... fascination with Russian literature."

You blushed once again.

"And your mom apparently made you play the keyboard at some point because I know that wasn't a you choice." She pointed toward the YAMAHA keyboard hidden next to your closet. "And that you journaled. A lot."

"I didn't journal." You corrected, looking toward your stack of worn down notebooks. "Those are stories. I've always been a writer."

Van walked toward the stack on the floor and picked up the first one off the pile. She popped a squat on the bare floor beneath her and flipped to the first page. You decided not to bother her as she continued to read whatever story it was that she delved into.

"This talent of yours is natural." She suddenly spoke. "This is really good for a kid."

You smiled. "Thanks, Van."

"Do you think your dreams came true?"

"What do you mean?" You questioned.

"You wrote about finding the love of your life here." Van responded, looking back at you. "That it would be your greatest dream. Do you think that came true?"

"Yeah." You mumbled. "I do... I love you."

She smiled. "I love you too."

#submission #open for submissions #x reader #drabble #oneshot #fanfic #van palmer #vanessa palmer #yellowjackets #yellowjackets fanfiction #wlw #gay #fluff

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ofmoonlily · 4 months

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tag nine people you'd like to know better

I. favourite colours: Black, purple, and blue. ^^ On ocassion, a pastel pink.

II. favourite flavours: STRAWBERRY ♥, Raspberry, pomegranate, cherry, kiwi, grape, PINEAPPLE♥, chocolate

III. favourite genres: Horror, Fantasy, Sci-Fi, Drama, comedy

IV. favourite music: Game music, Japanese 80's City Pop, K-Pop/J-Pop, Classical, metal, rock, pop/punk. Basically anything that isn't country. xD No hate to country lovers. It just isn't my personal vibe.

V. favourite movies: Small Soldiers (very old. Definitely dated. It has been a favorite of mine since I was little lmao), Final Fantasy XV: Kingsglaive, Train to Busan, Warm Bodies, Zombieland, 28 Days Later, 28 Weeks Later, REC, Alien VS Predator (Literally just saw it last year and it was SO GOOD), The Purge, Rob Zombie's House of 1,000 Corpses, The Devil's Rejects. And now for the classics: Child's Play, Bride of Chucky, Nightmare On Elm Street, Halloween, Freddy vs Jason, Blair Witch Project, The Fly, every single Hellraiser ever made...save for the remake. Anddd I'll cut it there or this'll turn into a gigantic page of classics I love xD

VI. favourite series: Fruits Basket, Inuyasha, Full Metal Alchemist (both '03 and Brotherhood), Durarara!!, Cowboy Bebop, OG Pokemon!. I honestly don't recall if I've ever watched anything normal lmao.

VII. last song: Love and Hate BoA

VIII. last series: Oh, god. I think Yashahime: Princess Half-Demon? Wasn't really interested. BUT. I loved Moroha the most >_< She needed love so bad.

IX. last movie: Demon Slayer Mugen Train

X. currently reading: Tarot: A Complete Guide. Nothing fancy lol Brushing up on my divination tools.

XI. currently watching: Markiplier playing Five Nights at Freddy's lol

XII. currently working on: My bullet journal for 2024. ^^ And tossing out old furniture to replace with better stuff I'm saving up for. Next on my list is a tall bookshelf. bookmarked and saving up for ^^

Tagged by: @bymargrace //thanks gurlie! Tagging: @rcsetorn @tailoringtay @candlexxofxxlife @dawnblxde @etroaed @lacedaether @notoriousbigwallace @youchxse

#ooc #//god look at that brick up there of my movies x"D

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lennonleigh · 3 months

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character name: lennon leigh reid

birthday: september 19th, 1999

gender / pronouns: cis woman, she/her

hometown: central park south, new york city

sexual orientation: bisexual / biromantic

residential area: starlight cove

occupation: fashion designer, founder of lenlei

length of time in starlight oaks: two months

positive traits: ambitious, resourceful, hardworking

negative traits: restless, impatient, stubborn

faceclaim: kaia gerber

BIOGRAPHY —

lennon was brought into a life of privilege, born to actor robert reid and celebrity makeup artist alissa taylor. her parents never married and just a year after the birth of their daughter, they separated. the majority of her childhood was spent in new york city with her mother, while the other half she spent on movie sets with her father in los angeles. her bicoastal lifestyle was something she adjusted to fairly easily but she would always consider new york her home, no matter how much she loved the serenity of the beach and being close to the water.

it was during the long hours spent with her mother at photoshoots and fashion weeks, where lennon got to observe what would become her passion in life. watching models on the runway, on and off camera, actresses on the red carpet, adorned in the most beautiful and bizarre creations, she found herself immersed in the world of fashion. as a teenager, she began to sketch, creating a portfolio of different designs that would become the first of many. she also scrapbooked as part of her research, collecting magazines and journals, textiles, fabrics. on her sixteenth birthday, lennon only asked for one present: a sewing machine.

from sophomore year until senior year of high school, lennon designed every costume for the theatre club, as well as made custom home and away uniforms for the cheer squad. every second of her time that she wasn't studying, she was sewing, crafting, creating. although she had several opportunities to meet designers, fashion icons and moguls in the industry, lennon wanted to remain anonymous. her status as the daughter of robert reid was never the factor she wanted to be the reason for her success, no matter how easy it could have been for her. after high school, she applied to the fashion institute of technology, where she was accepted and welcomed instantly. she couldn't escape nepotism entirely, no matter how much she wished she could.

in those formative years, lennon learned so much, not just about the fashion industry but about herself. she fell in love with a girl, her newfound sexuality leading to a brand new burst of creative expression. the relationship was short-lived however, her lover leaving to study abroad and choosing to stay there. it was also her first taste of heartbreak which she soon learned had the ability to fuel a whole other kind of productivity and creativity. after graduating, lennon wanted to jump into the world of work and so, she acquired the help of her mom, the owner of her own cosmetic company, to help her launch her first business venture.

lennon worked quietly behind the scenes for a year after she graduated, bringing 'lenlei' to life on the pages of a new portfolio that she kept close to her heart, building her brand from the ground up. during this time, she also got the opportunity to shadow jacqueline durran on the set of barbie. it was a dream come true. one that she admittedly had her father to thank for. lennon rarely sought his help but there was no way she could pass up on the experience of a lifetime. while working with jacqueline, lennon kept a close eye on one of her other heroes in the industry, amara washington. a woman whose work she'd followed closely since she was fifteen years old.

she respected amara not just for her work ethic but for being one of the most impactful, influential female entrepreneurs of her generation. ororo was a brand that featured in her scrapbooks as a teenager and when amara made the move to new york city, lennon didn't ever miss a runway show. the young designer's self named brand lenlei was crafted with a similar vision to those who'd come before her, with an added twist and a slight risk --- she wanted it to be a success but for it to be inclusive and accessible to all. casual wear, androgynous fashion, for women, men and nonbinary individuals. lenlei represented originality, authenticity and comfort. launched online in 2023, her range sold out and lennon earned a spot in forbes' 30 under 30.

fast forward to the present day, lennon's move to starlight oaks, (amara washington's very own hometown) was led by the success of her growing company. signing a contract with an independent clothing store, above the clouds, proved to be a new and exciting step forward. with the presence of amara in town, she's also hoping for the opportunity to learn from her in a setting that's more relaxed, away from the bustling city lights that they're used to. securing a retail space to sell her clothing line while working behind the scenes to bring her own boutique to life, lennon is hopeful that the small town will unlock bigger dreams, new hopes and fresh beginnings.

POTENTIAL CONNECTIONS —

coming soon !

#( character intro : lennon leigh reid. )#( pinned post. )#starlight.intro

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sakkiichi · 9 months

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MATCHUP FOR SCART-T.

hello, dear and my apologies for the delay ! thank you for requesting, I hope you like your matchup <3

since you didn’t specify if you wanted it for genshin or honkai star rail, i’m going to match you with genshin characters, due to me having a better grasp of their personalities. i apologize in advance if it’s not as lengthy as usual, but this is what i could come up with using the information you sent !

Your genshin impact match is someone very wise, with a vast knowledge of pretty much any topic. however, he can be a little clueless at times, to how current society works. he is well respected and seen by some as a parental figure. he is someone with many stories to tell too and he currently leads a peaceful life.

well, do these attributes ring a bell? these days he goes by…

✧ ZHONGLI

Zhongli is drawn to your motherly and mature nature. You are a welcoming and soothing presence in the lengthy days he’s walked Teyvat.

The ex geo archon admires how you seem prepared for any situation: from bandages, to spare tissues, to snacks, you have a knack for knowing what’s going to be needed.

As someone who’s seen and memorized countless stories, Zhongli’s heart warms at the sight of you reading and writing.

What tales are developing on those pages you fill, he wonders…

—

Liyue seems to dye in shades of gold at this hour, the outlines of the mountains surrounding the city, stark against a backdrop of oranges that fade into light blue.

Through your living room window, dusk’s last rays cast you in coppery hues, dust particles fluttering around akin to fireflies.

Pen in hand, you comfortably lie on the sofa, tongue sticking out the corner of your lips, as you diligently scribble on the previously pristine pages of your notebook.

But the setting sun is not the only one with his gaze focused on you.

Softened pools of molten amber are set on you, the ex geo archon’s expression, tender, fondness carved in his ancient, and at the same time young, features.

Tea cup in hand, Zhongli saunters into the room, his voice honey like when he inquires:

“Writing again, beloved?”

You look up from your work, sparkles dancing in your eyes when you meet his smile.

Carefully, you set your journal down, sitting up, inviting your lover to take the space beside you.

“Sort of.” You softly say. “I was just drafting something.”

Setting his tea on the low table, your partner relaxes into the couch, your form leaning against his.

“What was it about, dearest?” He asks, arms looping around your waist, bringing you closer to him.

You giggle.

“Hmm… it’s a love story…” You look up at him, those warm sultry eyes focused solely on you. “You inspired me to write it, you know…” You utter, your hands resting on his chest, as his arms soothingly run up and down your back.

“Tell me more, my love.” You feel his chest gently rumble at his words.

“It’s about a god and how he feel in love…” you trail off, nuzzling further into him.

“Oh? I’m interested, darling.” Zhongli whispers, leaving a tender kiss to your cheek.

“Really?” You retort, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips. “How about I show you instead, Rex Lapis?” You smirk, trailing feather light kisses along his perfectly sculpted jawline.

“Even better.” He breathes, your faces inches apart, before you two close the distance.

—

Your affinity for sleep is also something Zhongli finds super endearing. If he can’t sleep long in the mornings due to his job at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, he always makes sure to take naps with you in the afternoon, your head resting over his chest, his steady heartbeat lulling you into pleasant dreams.

He adores cuddling you at night as well. After long days, a good tea and your proximity and touch feel like paradise to the former archon.

If you ask him to, he’ll be more than happy to recount stories to you, his smooth baritone calming down any stress you might have had during the day.

Considering a modern au, I imagine you driving the car at night, with Zhongli by your side. He is entranced by the stars in your eyes when the city lights illuminate you, you’re simply so… powerful and ethereal like this.

You two would be an overall very gentle and sweet couple, it just makes sense to me heh.

✧ RUNNER UP: THOMA

I think you and Thoma would work well together because you are similar in your nurturing nature.

Because you are described as motherly, you could care for him in moments when he needs it, since Thoma is always tending to everyone’s needs, but who takes care of his?

Similarly to Zhongli, even if he can’t sleep in most days because of his schedule, Thoma makes sure to leave a kiss on your temple every morning before he goes, a fond smile on his lips and a newfound spring on his step when he thinks of how peaceful you looked asleep.

His cuddles are the best too, he’s just so comforting and loving, you can’t help but feel at peace in his arms.

Thoma asks Ayaka and Ayato for book recommendations for you since he found out about your love for literature; he just adores your smiles and sparkly eyes every single time he returns home with something new for you to read.

#genshin impact matchup #genshin impact matchups #genshin matchups #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #zhongli x reader #thoma x reader

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koishua · 1 year

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𝐊𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐔𝐀'𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒. will i ever get to finish them this year? who even knows.

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍 𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐒

starring: lee heeseung, female reader, park jeongseong

genre: grumpy-sunshine your honor, heavy heavy angst bc it would not be a koishua heeseung fic without it, sprinkles of fluff and humor between friends.

synopsis: lee heeseung had been twelve years old when he’d felt the worst pain in his life, a wrist snapping back as it came into contact with the rough surface of the playground after a fall from the swing. the world had seemed smaller when he’d swung back and forth on the seat, soaring above the horizontal pole the chains had been securely attached to. the adrenaline rushing through his lanky body had been immense, urging his feet to push him higher and higher until he could feel the sky with his outstretched fingertips.

he’d overdone it and the swing had snapped him back, sending him flying off the narrow plank he’d been sitting on. the trip to the hospital had been far too prolonged in his state of agony, tears constantly running down his chin as he had tried his best not to move his arm with the broken wrist despite the jostling vehicle.

that had been his first trip to the local hospital and coupled with the events that had led him there in the first place, he’d developed a distaste for the facility. funny, considering the fact that the ride from the city to the large building would become some of the most familiar paths to him from that moment onwards.

𝐖𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐔𝐋

starring: park sunghoon, female reader.

genre: idol!au, exes-to-lovers did you see that coming.

synopsis: love had been beautiful back then. love had been easy, carefree, and heart-fluttering even at the mere thought of the four-lettered word itself. love, for you, is no longer something you find joy in. it had been that way ever since the day you’d turned eighteen; naive and wearing your heart on your sleeve for anyone to come and break it. sunghoon had taken the liberty to do just that, however unknowingly and unintentionally he may have done it.

you were fifteen when you’d first fallen in love with your childhood friend, seventeen when you’d called him your boyfriend, and eighteen when you lost him to life. broken apart by circumstances and necessity, everything you’d built up with him had fallen apart overnight. by the time the dawn of your nineteenth birthday had arrived, you’d no longer have the name park sunghoon present in your everyday life, only contained dearly in your memories and a journal, his name scribbled mindlessly on each and every corner of the aged pages.

𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐀 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄

starring: choi beomgyu, female reader.

genre: teenage sweethearts turned bitter im sorry my babies, angst, romance bc teen beomgyu has more cute game than i ever will, maybe exes-to-lovers but they never really became exes.

synopsis: three years ago, choi beomgyu had stuck a hundred little stars on your ceiling using a wobbly ladder that could barely support your cat’s weight, let alone his. he’d said that they would glow in the dark— all hundred of them— so that you would not feel lonely. true to his words, they had glowed (for over a thousand nights) and you would stare at your ceiling full of stars for hours and hours on end, though the hollowness in your heart would remain. a million of those plastic stars wouldn’t have been enough for you to not wear his name on your lips to yourself every night like a lullaby.

beomgyu had given you a bouquet of red roses four years ago and you’d put them up to dry, so that you’d still have them with you for a long while. they now sit in a dry vase on your desk, the petals now a deep maroon and the stem having lost all saturation. it had no life, but it was still there with you. beomgyu never called (not even once) after he had left you.

on february fourteenth, exactly five years ago, he’d gifted you a small magnolia tree he’d named after you. he’d said that he would love you for as long as the sapling you’d planted together would live. he’d even said that he would watch as it grew bigger and older with both of you taking care of it.

“in about ten years, this will the prettiest one in town.”

you’d believed him.

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐃

starring: lee taeyong, female character (kang jinah), kim doyoung.

genre: comedy i swear to you the more i think about this fic the more i bust a lung, fluff, angst bc obviously i had to it's a cupid au duh, you will either love me or hate me for the ending i planned.

synopsis: desperate to have his feelings of two years reciprocated, he finds a leather-bound book falling by his feet in the old campus library containing a guide on how to summon the very real and very quirky god of love and desire, cupid. in his next life, taeyong would come to write a book on why you should read holy contracts thoroughly before signing your name off in blood.

#wips #enhypen angst #enhypen imagines #nct imagines #txt angst #txt fluff #enhypen x female reader

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cupids-chronicles · 7 months

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Hades X Persephone Saga: A Touch of Darkness #1

Author: Scarlett St. Clair

Genre: Romance, Fantasy, Mythology

My Rating: ⭐⭐⭐/5.

Spice: 🌶🌶🌶

Goodreads rating: 3.8/5

Pages: ‎‎400

Published: 23 May 2019

A Touch of Darkness Review

Note: This book is intended for mature audiences over the age of 18 due to explicit content (steamy chapters).

Ah, Greek gods! The OG drama queens (and kings) of ancient lore. You think your life is dramatic? Wait till you read the modern-day saga of Persephone and Hades in "A Touch of Darkness." One moment you're at a nightclub trying to fit into your mortal shoes, and the next you've unwittingly signed up for a timeshare in the Underworld. Classic Tuesday night, am I right?

Set in the hip metropolis of New Athens, a city where one might bump into a deity sipping on a latte, this retelling has all the modern twists you'd expect. Our protagonist, Persephone (or Perri to her mates), is your quintessential student of journalism who enjoys the simple pleasure of baking. Probably whipping up ambrosia cupcakes on the weekends, I'd imagine.

Let's talk about the "Touch of Darkness" himself, Hades. The broody and magnetic owner of Nevernight is the very embodiment of "it's complicated" on Facebook. He's your typical misunderstood bad boy. Dark, tall, mysterious, and probably the type to leave you on read for a couple of hours just because he's ruling the Underworld or something. However, the depth he carries is akin to the layers of the Underworld he governs – intricate, complex, and occasionally a tad hot.

Now, for all you spicy lovers out there, prepare to fan yourself at Chapters VI, VII, XVIII, and XXIII. Let's just say if this book was food on a menu, it'd come with a little chili pepper next to it.

My favorite quote from the book has to be: “I have waited lifetimes for you, I know it." Now, if that doesn't make you swoon, you might just be a stone statue in Medusa's gallery.

While the book has a playful and electric energy, it's essential to note that it touches on some sensitive themes. Please be aware of trigger warnings, including alcohol, bullying, child abuse, drugging, sexual assault, toxic relationships, and sexual content. The narrative's duality showcases the dappled light and shadows of romance, making it a poignant and authentic reflection of love in the modern age.

The story unfolds like a decadent dish, seasoned with the spicy, enemies-to-lovers trope with a side serving of fated mates, making it a treat for romance nerds. And remember, "A Touch of Darkness" is the entree in this scrumptious series banquet. Be sure to dine in order, or you'll miss out on all of the flavors.

So, dear reader, if you're itching for a romance that combines the allure of age-old myths and the vibrancy of today's world, this is your must-read.

Pulitzer Prize? Maybe not. But will it win over your heart and make you daydream about underworld deities during your daily commute? Absolutely!

Happy reading, and may your love life always be less convoluted than a Greek myth. But if it isn't, at least you've got some entertaining company.

Please note that this book is part of a series and can not be read as a stand alone. Lucky for you this can be your little weekend binge as almost all the books in the series has already been released !

Wait a minute boys and girls, check out these trigger warnings first:

Alcohol

Bullying

Child abuse (emotional)

Drugging

Sexual assault

Toxic relationships

Romance Tropes, you ask ?

Enemies to lovers

Fated Mates

Who do we meet in this book ?

Hades

Persephone (Perri)