#it's SO bittersweet and all strings and love and remembering the good times it makes me CRYYY

[boyfhees]

TAKE TWO | diluc

PRECIS. amidst rain and regrets, diluc asks you for another chance ( 1.58k )

GENRE. angst, bittersweet maybe, exes to ?

WARNINGS. they only talk like, 5 times in the whole fic, mentions of breakups, reader has emotional trauma bro, tea ( literally ) bc im a coffee supremacist, unedited version my old friend 🫶

NOTE. for my bestie and the best writer on this site @wolfhookk like u can never not fall in love with her writings, someone tell this to her until it's imprinted in her head. bff ily i hope u like this red hair man angst 🧎 ps there are a lot of lang leav references. ALSO THANK HER BC IF IT WASN'T FOR RI I WOULDN'T HAVE WRITTEN ANOTHER GENSHIN WORK ANYTIME SOON LMAO

“i don’t usually invite my exes to my house,” diluc shoots you an apologetic look, or maybe that’s how you perceive it. you were once good at reading his expression, now you no longer know how to do that, for the person in front of you feels like a stranger.

he doesn’t say anything, not that he has to. diluc thought it was fate, but then he realised it’s a mere coincidence. it rained without a forecast and you being the kind soul you are, let him stay over until the rain stops. and even though you told him to not read too much into the situation, you don’t think diluc understood a word, judging from the way he still looks at you with a lovelorn smile.

something shifts in the air after you step into the kitchen, almost half-a-way through the process of making his preferred choice of tea. there’s a dramatic pause right before you pour it into the cup, watching the wisp spin into the despairing air surrounding you in the kitchen. you take a step back, running your mind over all the moments you and diluc spent together, looking through the first mention of him in your memories— it’s gone, you conclude, faded or perhaps, hidden behind the blankets of sorrow and remorse.

your attention shifts back to the tea as you proceed to pour it into the cup, wondering why you still remember how to make his favourite tea the way he taught you, or how much sugar he prefers. you press your mind to come up with an excuse before all these things, they don’t make sense to you; not anymore.

“you still buy tulips everyday,” his voice drives you out of your thoughts. you pick up the tray, making your way into the living room, placing it on the centre table before taking a seat by the farthest corner on the couch.

your gaze follows his eyes, settling upon the wilted tulips resting on your kitchen counter. the truth is— you don’t want to buy them, but something about watching the tulips every time you pass by the kitchen puts you at ease. you don’t know the reason, you don’t wish to know either. the first time you bought tulips was for diluc’s first birthday after the of you had moved in together. it wasn’t the first time; in fact, he had a habit to buy flowers for you. a new bunch, a new arrangement, every single day. but something changed after that birthday. whether for good or for bad, diluc never purchased anything flowers except tulips. he says it’s because they reminds you of him, and you reasoned it saying that you’re down to settle with anything that makes him happy.

though, you don’t know if that’s the case anymore. the tulips, perhaps they’re for you. a reminder to never forget what you had, and a mnemonic for everything that you both could’ve been before everything withered down.

“and the tea still tastes how it used to,” he mutters above the silence intoxicating the atmosphere. there’s a sense of nostalgia in his voice, a hint of yearning in every word that rolls off his lips; and it all contradicts the words he said to you two years ago.

his words would’ve meant a lot more if he said them before he made mistakes that could never be corrected and before you decided to cut the string and walk on a separate path. that’s the tragedy of growing up— you’ll run out of feeling something new for the first time. the sad thing is; you only get so much of those moments— a handful if you’re lucky— and then you spend the rest of your life turning them over in your head.

maybe that’s why he meant as much to you as he did, and why you held on for so long even after knowing things wouldn’t work out. you didn’t know it back then, but he was the last time you would ever feel anything new.

“diluc—” your voice is almost quite, a bit above what classifies as a whisper, dripping with hesitation and groundless assumptions. “this means nothing.”

the need to classify that stays far beyond your comprehension, but you take a look at him and realise that he knew it, nonetheless. his hopeless eyes tell you that it’s all because of the impromptu rain; the way his gaze flutters all around the room, never residing upon you hints that diluc knows you invited him out of decency, and there’s no point hoping for this to morph into something more.

“i know,” he smiles, because you invited him over as someone you used to know; someone you wouldn’t have looked back at if not for the comical play of destiny.

you let silence lead the next few minutes. the sound of rain fading into nothing as it ceases to pour; a question pops inside your head— is he in a relationship? it’s stupid, knowing it’s none of your concerns now that he isn’t a part of your life anymore. your mind knows it’s useless, your heart craves an answer, and you wonder if the mind ever answers the heart. the way it keeps conjuring up what’s no longer there. you don’t know why you keep swinging like a pendulum between pulling him close and pushing him away, which you know the mirage will never be true. but the heart does not have eyes and the mind cannot resist when it asks, just one last time.

diluc puts the cup back on the tray, mumbling a soft thank you before wiping his hair with the towel around his neck, the one you had given him before letting him inside. “i heard you never dated after we broke up,”

there’s a look in his eyes you’ve never seen before, and it takes you a few minutes to recognise it for what it was— remorse. he looks at you, half defeated, half hopeful, as if he’s aware of the damage inflicted upon you, all because of his mistakes. you feel something linger in the silence, a broken fragment of memory, or perhaps the essence of unsaid words pressuring the air, forcing you to succumb to sorrow. it takes you back to when you were looking at him, desperate and with your hands into front of him to intertwine with his, and he called your name as if it pained him to say it. you don’t realise when it had stopped raining, or when the clock struck eleven, just the way you didn’t realise when the love between you and diluc shattered down to a chore.

he stands up, typing something on his phone which seems like texting, before his attention shifts back to you. “i’ll get going,”

“right now? it’s eleven at night. you can stay—” and a pause. it’s reminds of the very first time you had asked him to stay over; the night that ignited sparks of something between you and him that set ablaze when you kissed him because of a game of spin the bottle. “i mean, it’s too late and dangerous to drive back, especially in this weather.”

“i’ll stay at a friend’s for the night.” he states, you nod in response. there’s a glint of disappointment in your voice; perhaps you were hoping for something more, perhaps a closure— a chance. you don’t know why you had high expectations when you swore to never see him again. falling in love is dangerous. it’s like holding your heart in your fist and letting it go— one finger at a time. you know it’s getting out of your hold, slipping through your fingers, yet you can’t do anything. there comes a point when you’ve let it get out of your grasp, surrendering it to someone; and falling out of love is like walking hand in hand with death because your heart lies somewhere astray, with someone else, but you have to move on.

because first love is never the first person you give your heart to— it’s the first one who breaks it.

you follow him to the door, noticing his every single move as he slips into his coat, followed by his shoes. you realise that you’ve always loved him more than yourself; so much more than even after all these years, every single piece of your heart years for him, or even a part of him, knowing that if there’s someone responsible for all the days and nights you’ve spent spilling tears on your pillow, it’s him. it’s like a tender sacrifice; like a faint silence felt in the lost song of a mermaid; or the bent and broken feet of a dancing ballerina. it’s in every considered step you’ve taken in the opposite direction of him, and his every word that drove you away from him.

diluc stops as you were about to shut the door, looking you in the eyes for the very first time that night. “i know everything that happened was my fault,” he begins, and you wonder if you’re ready for another one of those apologies he offered you after you broke up with him, but his eyes tell a whole ‘nother story. “but in future, if you find yourself in a position to fall in love again, please fall in love with me.”

and the second you tried to tell yourself that you weren’t in love anymore was the moment you realised you were, and you’ve always been.

taglist in the rbs.

#prod. — caelin. #album. — genshin. #genshin x reader #genshin impact #diluc ragnivindr x reader #diluc x reader #genshin diluc #diluc angst #genshin angst #diluc fic #genshin fic #diluc headcanons #genshin headcanons #diluc drabbles #genshin drabbles #naur i need to know ab popular genshin tags i cannot copy the hq format 😞💔

[dent-de-leon]

Remembering how Taliesin was kinda crushed about losing the whole circus so early on because he was kinda hoping Matt would let them keep it as a kind of traveling home base. Just, the thought of what the Nein joining their little traveling circus would look like.

Mollymauk not having to leave home, having the comfort and safety of that familiarity. Getting to continue to explore all of Exandria while never having to leave the family that raised him. Molly sitting beside Toya, singing old folksongs under the Moonweaver's guiding light. Working on some secret routine for when they roll into the next town, some exciting and extravagant performance he's managed to rope Yasha into. Giving his pitch and passing out flyers at the next tavern, inviting everyone to come see a show they'll never forget.

Yasha feeling a little more comfortable traveling with the Nein at first--because she's already grown so fond of Molly and their little circus family, has come to love the sight of returning home to the big top towering in the distance, the parade of caravans and brilliant lights. Molly always waiting for her, shuffling his deck with deft hands and his charming smile, offering her up a card that foretells a future full of joy and love.

The day when Yasha finally acquires her bone harp, tentatively strums at its strings for the very first time. Plays a soft, mournful song that's wonderfully bittersweet. Desmond gently encouraging her, playing along on his enchanted violin. Molly humming softly beside them, tail swinging happily.

Caleb and Nott eventually working on their own little routine--but only once they leave big cities far behind, in the safety of farmlands and sleepy little towns on the outskirts of the Empire. Places where the wizard can finally stop ducking his head and looking over his shoulder. "Nothing with fire," Caleb insists in a hushed, grave whisper, so they leave the pyrotechnics to Orna.

But Molly truly believes he's a Magician of some sort, which makes him smile wanly. Magicians are for fairytales and easily fooled townsfolk; charismatic conmen with cheap tricks and sleight of hand. Never any real magic. And yet, Mollymauk is still dazzled by a cantrip as simple as Dancing Lights, insists that in itself is fantastical--beautiful.

As terrified as Caleb is of the spotlight, he's happy to perform a parlor trick or two if it means spare coin for his books. And if Nott darts about the audience and pockets a little extra gold here and there while the Magician has their audience utterly captivated, well--that's just a bonus.

Jester performs too, because of course she does--she's Jester. And Molly finds it's hard to really deny her anything. Her magic is colorful, charming, playful. Conjured butterflies and miniature unicorns, exaggerated displays always sparkling and bright. She and her fae friend compliment each other well. She's the kind of person who can make just about anyone smile.

Fjord volunteers as stagehand when they could use the extra help, just wanting to lend a hand and make a good impression. And he can't help trying to wheedle a little bit of information out of the other performers when the chance arrises, all too curious about the mysterious blood hunter he often bunks with. Whenever he does, Beau is inevitably not far behind him, journal in hand as she demands answers. "Those swords--are they really magic? Where the hell did he find them?" "How long has Molly been in the circus? Did he ever visit home?" "Any family? Any chance their blood is like his--"

#remember when taliesin genuinely hoped at the beginning matt would let him keep the circus by some chance and the nein would #get to have their own little home base?? like their new keep but it's a silly little traveling carnival?? cause I just love the whole #concept of that it's so cute and fun. just the whimsy and magic of it all-- #yes we're an adventuring party who go on perilous quests. yes we are also still in the circus and the show starts at 9 we'll totally be #back from manticore slaying by then-- #its just so sweet to imagine them all in the carnival together ; ;

[ladyclwriter]

The Witcher Imagine

Illicit affairs

Geralt Of Rivia x gn! reader

Summary: Yennefer broke the witcher's heart again, and of course he would come at you to pick the pieces up. But you were tiredly, sadly in love. It's time to face the truth.

Bad words, sex mentioning, gaslighting, white wolf toxic behavior, emotional discussions, spicy angst.

A drug that only worked the first few hundred times

Breathtaken. Pieces of wood and clothes on the floor, bed creaking to each little movement. Wet from head to toe, sweat soaking the messy, almost tore, linen. Your hair sticking to your head, body unable to move for minutes, legs shaking, back aching, lips scratching, throat hurting. Chest moving up and down as you tried in vain to catch your breath.

Sometimes, your mind was completely numb, body still on the clouds after a very deserved orgasm. And there was the nights where you could barely feel anything. Yeah, it was pleasurable. But five, ten minutes later, all left was sweat, misery and regret.

This is one of the nights where you lay in the middle. Body on the clouds, mind on the ground. You had two orgasms, Geralt had three after long hours of tiring wild sex. And right after he finished, he turned his back to you. You still remembered the times when only staring at the big muscle wall by your side was a blessing. How you traced each line with one of your fingers, filled with passion and lust. Each detail marked in your mind; his body was a map that you could read with your eyes closed. And after minutes only appreciating him, you would hug him by the back. Two warm bodies and one cold heart.

But it was when, two weeks and a half ago?

Two weeks and a half. You didn't touched him like a forsaken god to worship for. You didn't whispered I love you countless times, sometimes for no specific reason. You didn't cared when he got up in the morning to go whenever he had to go. You didn't asked how his day, week was. Didn't washed the monster's blood out of his silver hair, didn't cooked or even looked at him at all.

Two weeks and a half. Only fucking, leaving, coming back, fucking, leaving. He didn't care.

Some nights he only came to sleep. Some nights, to some casual sex. Some, rough and wild like the berserker he could be. And there was the nights like this one.

Golden eyes sparkling with tears. You stood holding the door, staring at him. The man who exales confidence and power, looking like the very portrait of misery. Not with black blood on his face, no. He was perfectly clean. Hair half loosen half up, all pale strings aligned where they should be. His outfit quite sharp, some leather with silk or whatever that shiny cloth was. You raised an eyebrow, holding back the question. You didn't knew if you actually wanted to know.

“Night.” he grunted, avoiding your eyes. You didn't answered because you didn't had to. At least he was still giving "good night"s, after so much time doing the very same thing.

You already knew how it worked. He knocks at the door (sometimes he doesn't), you open, he says a polite greeting, then he kiss you. What happened next was, of course, always the very same thing. Only with different timing, style, and taste.

Tonight his first kiss was bittersweet. One of his hands on your waist, the other one behind your neck, fingers entering your hair. He pulled you against him, mouth feasting hungrily with yours, biting your under lip without caring about blood. He didn't cared when you didn't moved any muscle, only letting him do whatever he desired to. Of course his animalistic groans still drives you crazy. Of course his strong grip — the strongest you ever felt — makes you forget about your pride. Of course you didn't cared when he threw you on the bed, his body upon yours like the starry sky blanketing the world as the moon rise up. Of course his touches made you shiver, ache, scream in pleasure. And he knew it.

But even with him inside you, even as he whispered dirty nonsenses in your ear, as you scratched his back — desperately marking him like your own —, you had tears in your eyes. Not for pleasure or pain. But for sadness. And now, you couldn't even cry. You kept staring at the ceiling, licking your bruised lips, uniting the courage you needed to speak.

“Geralt-” a squeak. Not even you heard your trembling voice. Clearing your throat, you tried again. “Geralt”.

He didn't moved.

“Geralt, I know you are awake. We need to talk” you did your best to sound confident, authoritarian. It took six breaths for him to click his tongue, making clear that he would angrily listen. “I'm tired of this.”

“Sleep, then”.

Anger snapped in your veins. You felt it, blood burning inside you, making your heart speed up, but you held it down.

“Take it serious.” he was pretty sure your voice tone was lower than the usual. “I had enough of this. You better choose if you want to have a life with me, or not.”

There wasn't anything else to say as he kept laid there, you staring at his back looking for any reaction, any sight of emotion. And after a while, he did reacted. He sat, legs spread in front of him, blankets perfectly falling where it should. Geralt only stared at the nothing, mouth open to say something. “I know you for years”.

“I don't care” you answered instantly. “Make a choice, Geralt.”

“Don't say my name like I'm guilty of something. And no, I'm not making a choice. There is nothing to be chosen”.

“Excuse me?!” you almost screamed, face expressing your offense. And damn, how a single sentence could hurt.

“I mean there is nothing between us. And I have nothing else too. You know that.” his voice lowered, becoming a grave murmur.

“That's the issue. I no longer want to be your escape. Your little toy, pet, to play whenever you need to” furrowing brows, you put one hand on your forehead. “Damn, Geralt. You know about my feelings!”

“Should it make any difference? I remember you saying it wasn't a big deal”-

“It fucking is! Shit.” you got up, hand still on the forehead, some pain growing there. Breathing as calmly as you could, you started walking slowly around the room. “It's been months of this, I'm fucking tired! Now you better choose, or just leave.”

“This what? What is this?” he looked at you, one brow up. “We were friends when you travelled with me. Then you settled down at this damn village, doing nothing but cooking and farming. Did you really like all of this?”

“We had this conversation before, and my life style is not an excuse for you to treat me like if I wasn't a rational being!” no hesitation, you stared at him, voice growing louder and pointing one finger of your calloused hands.

“But it is a reason for us to not be more than just friends. Or... Whatever the fuck we are now” he got up too, but reaching out for his clothes. You trembled inside, fearing that would be the last time you'll see him.

“Don't fucking blame me, Geralt.” you growled lowly. “We both know why we never even became real friends. We know why you always shut me out.”

He did knew it. He stood there, holding his pants up on his hip, looking at you. “No, I don't know.”

“Yes you do.” insisted, not one slight sign of positive emotions in your face.

Because yes, he does. He knows the reason to every inner struggle he has. The only one who can actually shake his heart, mind and soul. The purple eyes that haunted his dreams, perched through every single cell on his being. But none of you could say her name, even if only staring at each other you knew who you were thinking about.

You turned your back, inhaling heavily, trying your best to not be sad, but angry. It took a long while to this subject to come up, Geralt admitted to himself. Still, you two kept in silence. You had so much to say — but at the same time, you knew it would be useless. He knew he would choose Yennefer everytime; you accepted that shit as a fact a long time ago. Then, what was to be talked about? What was to be said, if your fate was already determined ever since the start?

“When I opened the door. When you took off your clothes. When you were inside me, and when you turned your back. All the time her smell was impregnated on you.” you kept talking at a low tone, rage suppressed as you tried your best to be mature. “Lilac”.

“And gooseberry”.

A stab in your heart. Yeah, you didn't had doubts; now you exactly couldn't. If your world was made of glass, it cracked in that moment. And if you were; you would be shattering. But no. You were flesh, blood and bones. So, proudly, you turned at the white haired man one more time.

“I no longer will accept you in my house. This was your last night in my bed. In my life” no hesitation. Not even trembling, voice completely still. “I demand respect, and we both know you no longer see me as a human being. I'm nothing more than a toy”.

“I would never disrespect you”.

“You did it all this time!”

Your face twisted, biting your lip to control your emotions. No fucking way you were going to cry. Not when he was there, standing plainly, shirtless, understanding your feelings but, at some sort of way, rejecting them. “Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me! Coming in, feasting my food and my body. Leaving and showing up whenever it pleases you. Showing up after that woman...”

You interrupted yourself as his eyes lit up when you would mention anything about her. He saw fire in your eyes too; that made him avoid them and look for his shirt somewhere. “Laying with me while thinking about her. All of that shit is surely disrespect. And I had enough”.

He didn't looked at you as he dressed himself, only boots remaining. Then, straight postured, he approached you. Somehow avoiding your eyes, he kept a soft tone. “I never, never had the intention to disrespect or dishonour you. And you shall– you must see that I never saw you as a toy”.

“What am I to you, then?” now your voice trembled. You didn't lowered your head, didn't avoid his golden orbes, determined to end all your worries and doubts. “This is the first time we share a conversation in a long time. This is the first time you look at me in a month! How could one with genuine feelings for another treat them this way?”

Geralt didn't knew how to answer. He realized his bad behavior a long time ago, but as time passed, he never found the strength to put up a smile and say "oh, how was your day? Good to know. Do you want to go to the fair tomorrow with me?". As time flies, the more he feels a little of himself dying; of you too. Whichever was the fond and joy you shared in your travels was gone. And as much as he craved to change things, as much as his soul screamed to wake up one morning and make you happy, he simply couldn't.

“I don't have it on me, darling.” for fuck's sake, you twitched as he called you like this — it has been, what, four months? “Don't you think I don't care about you. Don't you dare to think I only used you all this time”.

But you couldn't think anything else about this year. Months and months, each of them getting morbid and grey, until the very today. Until it became, well, this. You felt like your house became colder and darker the more he visited you; you couldn't stand be there for a whole day when he wasn't there. Infact, he never brought any light with him. Only more darkness.

“I deserve more, Geralt. If I am not eligible for you to have a life with, then you shall leave” you kept your determination, not moving one inch back or forth. “There is some really good men at this damn village. Men that wouldn't care about farming and cooking. Men that would give me good morning kisses, hug me when I'm sad and make me feel like I truly exist on their world”.

He knew it. Ever since the start; the very first days of you together, he knew. He knew he didn't deserved you, and you deserved better than him. Still, lonely and arrogant, he kept you to him. He held you and didn't let you free yourself to find true happiness. Now, he couldn't do it anymore.

“Your heart will never be mine. But I can have your soul, just like you have my whole being” raised one hand, placing at his chest, almost begging for him to look at you. “If you choose me, I'll gladly help you to get rid of your suffer. We shall work our way through all of this mist and darkness”.

Years with that little hope twinkling inside you. It was on his hands to turn them into your lighthouse, or extinguish it like a mere candle. “If you don't... Then I'll need time to get rid of you. Time to wash you from my body. Time to forget and move on, so I will be able to accept you in my house as a very old friend.”

And goddamn it, you felt like after this conversation you wouldn't be able to keep living under that roof. For sure you were moving somewhere else. There was no way you would stare at those walls, the bed, the table, without remembering him all the time.

He took your hand from his chest and raised it to his face, now, finally, eyes locked into a silent, emotional conversation. If Yennefer violet eyes haunted him, his golden ones would phantom you. Not only in your dreams. At the fair, the travels — if you tried to visit any other kingdom you would for sure see those eyes in the shadows. You would still look around constantly, tracking any motherfucker that would stare at the Witcher with prejudice. It would take a lot of time for you to get rid of that ghost. That big, handsome ghost.

“Can you give me some time?” you blinked. “It's... A lot to think about. I need time. Please”.

What is there to be thought? You wanted to angrily ask. A hurricane, a storm that destroyed him for years, and a shelter under the rain who always got his back. What is fucking there to be considered??

You only breathed deeply, closing your eyes to recompose yourself. Getting two steps away from him, you held your own hands in front of your body, behaving and controlling. “Alright. Four days”.

It would be enough. In four days you could look up for a new house, meet new people and sell some things on the fair. Yeah, four days. “Thank you”.

Damn, he said thank you. Then, silently consenting, both of you walked towards the door. His boots were there, so you just watched him wear them. He kept avoiding your eyes, posture completely tense. And then he got up, opened the door, took one foot out, only to turn around to you, holding the knob with one hand. “I'm sorry. Truly”.

“I am too”, you almost whispered. Staring at each other, there wasn't any stomach butterflies anymore. It was autumn, but the wind from the outside felt like winter with his snowy hair.

Things were truly cold between you; even if one hour ago, you were sweating and groaning. In fact, there wasn't any fire in that bed anymore. There wasn't any fire between you two. Geralt looked at you with misery, recognizing all of this. Recognizing that he has to choose between an inflaming passion, and true, breezy love.

He kept there, holding the door and looking at you. The sun didn't rose, not one torch on the pavement were lit anymore. Not even cats dared to disturb the scary peace of the night. Anyways, Geralt was a creature of night and winter — while you were day and spring. He didn't knew, he felt you were the only thing he needed to discover a new world. To open his eyes and soul to the beauty of life; to live, truly. Not live by a constant worry about someone that uses and throws you away, someone with confused feelings and a chaotic life, someone that was pure chaos.

In that moment, he realized. He realized he became as much as chaos as Yennefer was. He realized he darkened your life as much as the sorcerer did to his. He also realized that one single decision would change it all.

He didn't knew, he felt. He felt that you would make his life better. And that was a chance of a lifetime.

In the end, none of you felt. You knew he would choose chaos. It required too much courage, strength, motivation and, well, love, to move on from a whole poisoned life to golden hay fields of healing. And no, no way you were going to be his stepwheel.

“Forgot anything?” you asked, raising eyebrows with your arms crossed. He murmurs a hmm, looking outside, only to look back at you. For a little time, he looked like a little lost wolf.

“Fuck” you didn't understood shit. Anyways, all of sudden, he kissed you. One hand cupping your face, the other holding one of yours, interlocking fingers after tightly gripping your waist.

Your feelings got mixed and confused, your lips answering his in a natural, mechanical movement. He sighed between the kiss, sadness and lust and anger all coming together. The way he held your hand was almost painfully, your other hand hanging lifeless at the side of your body. You couldn't move more than your lips and tongue, shamelessly invading his mouth. When you parted, he didn't got away. The hand on your face fell down to your back, pressing you against him.

“I love you” he said lowly, foreheads touching as he knew you wouldn't believe him. “I hope you'll forgive me someday. For giving you misery and deprive you of happiness”.

You exhaled, closing your eyes with the cold breeze. Dew hung in the air, the moon covered by clouds who were a sign of colder days. Days his surprisingly warm body wouldn't be by your side. “You know damn well, Geralt. For you I would ruin myself a million little times”.

I would certainly ruin myself for him 😁🙏

Alright, please tell me your thoughts. I quite feel like this got a little vague, empty. But I wanted so bad to write angst with him 😩 I really hope you enjoyed it, please tell me your thoughts.

See ya 🧡

Tagging: @sunndust

#geralt x reader #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia imagine #the Witcher #the Witcher imagine #the witcher Netflix #the Witcher fanfic #taylor swift #Spotify #geralt imagine

[prismatica-the-strange]

Absolute Corruption | A Bittersweet Reunion | I've Got No Excuse

Warnings: 18+ Show Typical Violence, blood, death, Mentions of suicide, ment. of attempted suicide, illness, drugs, angst

Ada has that victorian boy with tuberculosis swag about her.

So here's where things get a little funky. There are canon deviations and they will only get worse as the story goes on. I do not subscribe to the idea that seasons 3 & 4 exist, they will be removed entirely and a better story will take their place.

Word Count: 4k

Prev: Too Close to You

Next: Nothing More, Nothing Less

(Song Link) (Picrew Link)

If she's honest, she doesn't want to be here.

Playing dress up with her uncle.

But we've been here already.

Already been worn down by petty manipulations.

Already lamented her arrival in the Westworld park.

That was nearly seven years ago, and here she is again, this time at the behest of her aunt.

"You never leave the house anymore, so I pulled some strings and got you a small gig at that park you used to love. They're unveiling a new story or something."

She wished she was strong enough to strangle her, but, and she would never admit it, the mere thought of even getting a glimpse of him again makes her soft.

She groans through a laugh, the irony behind the circumstances of how she'd found herself in the underground labyrinth of service tunnels and workshops not lost on her.

Adeline Rooney had long since fallen in love with a robot. And half a decade after the last time she'd seen him, he still gave her butterflies.

After a wonderful set of, somewhat mournful songs, on her part, the gala had erupted into total chaos when one of the hosts shot and killed the park's founder, Robert Ford.

Somehow, and she's still not exactly sure how, she'd managed to get away. Maybe the hosts thought she wasn't worth the lead, or maybe they didn't even notice her at all. She'd gotten good at being invisible.

It's all a blur, the blood, the death, her uncle, getting down into the below area. All she knows is she hurts, but that's not anything new.

"You're supposed to love Isa-uh-Adeline!"

She perks up at the sound of her name being shouted down the hall.

"Not so much anymore."

She freezes at that voice.

"No! You're fucking programmed to have no love beyond Adeline!" The first voice shouts, "Adeline is written into the goddamn laws of your being!"

There's a thud and words too quiet for her to hear.

"Careful darling, he's fragile."

"When I awoke in the place where you play god, I realized Adeline was a lie." His voice is just loud enough to reach her, "Just words in my-"

"You know I can hear you talking about me," She calls out.

It's quiet for a moment, then there's a shuffling.

"No fucking way," A man comes into view past the crate next to her, wearing an old shirt and pants with suspenders, "You're supposed to be dead."

"Thanks, Huck Finn."

Hector and another woman walk close enough to see, and he looks like he's seeing a ghost.

You're dead. You're real. Are you real? You can't be real.

A million questions start to form in his head but the words that come out are, "You look like shit."

She winces at the bark of laughter that leaves her, looking at him through rose-tinted lenses, "Well, I'm glad to see you at least remember me, pretty boy."

He's right though, she does look like shit. Gaunt, pale, sunken eyes. Sickly.

She's looked like that for a while now, but it's as bad as it's ever been.

His face is hardened, jaw set, a look she's never been on the receiving end of. She doesn't enjoy it.

"So how does this work?" She asks, "You shoot me like the other guests, or am I left to wither away on my own time?"

Without a second thought, Hector pulls his pistol on her.

She doesn't seem frightened. In fact, she smiles softly up at him, "How poetic."

"We should bring her with us," The other man says, and all three of them look at him, "She has more experience in the park than I do."

Hector looks to the woman, putting his gun away when she nods.

The other man motions for her to get up, going so far as to offer a hand.

Instead, she reaches behind her and Hector goes back to gripping his gun.

"Calm down, Hero," She says, pulling something from partway behind the crate, "I'm not very mobile without these."

His eyes betray him at the pain-filled groan she makes as she pulls herself up on the crutches.

She looks smaller than he remembers. She looks like she would break at the faintest touch. So he doesn't touch her, walking ahead of the group.

"I'm Lee, Sizemore," The other man introduces himself as they walk, "Head of Narrative here."

She looks him over and scoffs, "Sure."

"Y'know, Addy, I've been interested in you for-" He stops when he notices she had a few steps back.

"Call me Addy again and I'll slit your fucking throat," She scowls.

She storms past him as best she can, knuckles alabaster white with how hard she grips her crutches.

"She's still a lie, Hector," The woman says.

Ada just rolls her eyes and taps behind her ear, tuning them out with music.

He glances back at her and it's obvious she isn't listening.

"All of it?"

"Yes, all of it. She used you for her own entertainment," She grabs his arm, "For her, it was all a game."

Memories cloud his mind, the look of her tear-stained face, the sound of her laugh, the feel of her breath on his skin. All of it.

"It doesn't feel like a lie," He looks at Maeve with pain in his eyes.

"That's because it wasn't," Lee says, stepping past Ada who is desperately trying not to hear them.

Maeve glares at him.

"What? We didn't give him those memories," He admits, "Her death, maybe. But everything else he experienced with her."

"Explain," Hector demands, "Why would you put her death in my head?"

Sizemore sighs, trying to find the words to explain his department's failures.

"Look, when you were put in rotation, your cornerstone was a woman named Isabella," He starts, "But a handful of years in, Adeline visited the park. That's when it started."

"I don't know how she did it, but that first visit changed things. When she came a second time it's like you remembered her. And then it's like you'd been waiting for her with every visit after. Like a lover that came and went as she pleased and you were always holding a candle for her."

He remembers lighting up when he saw her, falling immediately in love with her without reservation.

"She got her hooks so deep in your source code that she changed your cornerstone to loving her," Lee shakes his head, "And then, after the incident, no matter what we did, you would break your loop to go find her."

"Even some of the guests were confused. She'd played your storyline exclusively for nearly two years. When she disappeared people wondered why we got rid of her. They thought she was a host."

"We even hard reset you. Wiped you clean, and started from the ground up, and you still went looking for her," His look is almost bitter, "Eventually we rewrote the memory of that night again so you thought she died."

"That night?"

Lee glances back at Ada again, her eyes are glued to the floor, teeth clenched. Just as he opens his mouth to tell Hector what happened, gunshots echo from down the hallway.

Hector quickly ushers them behind one of the stacks of plastic crates, gun out.

An orange glow lights up the hall, and a man runs past them, screaming and on fire.

"She has a dragon," Hector breathes. He leads them back out and she sees Armistice holding a flamethrower.

"That's not from this park."

"Who's the girl?"

Ada nods with a small chuckle, "Some things just don't change."

"She's no one," Hector says.

"Ouch."

He swears she's purposely getting on his nerves.

"We've gotta run," Armistice says and they follow her to an elevator bay.

She has two techs tied up there, both of which seem familiar with the hosts guiding them.

Ada tries to stay to the side, reaching into an inner pocket of her cardigan. A gloved hand grabs her wrist before she can pull back and she looks up to meet Hector's warning look.

She slowly pulls out a small card tin with Van Gogh's Almond Blossoms embossed on it, eyebrows going up as a sign that she's obviously not that stupid.

His eyes watch her intensely as she opens it. Inside there are a few small rolls of paper and a pastel pink lighter.

"What is it?"

She puts one up to her lips.

"I dunno about you," She says through her teeth, pinching the paper between them, and lighting the other end. She takes a quick drag and holds it between her fingers, "But I don't plan on dying sober."

She puts the lighter back, closes the tin, and slides it back into her pocket.

One of the techs lets out a long breath when Armistice takes the grenade from beneath his chin and disarms it.

They untie them and get in the elevator.

"Are you smoking weed?" He asks, "I just sat with an explosive pinned to my chest for god knows how long, and you're smoking weed?"

She looks between him and the joint and shrugs, holding it out to him, "You wanna hit?"

"Sorry darling," Maeve interrupts when he reaches for it, "But we need these three sober."

"Screw that," Lee says, snatching it from her hands and taking a hit, coughing up the smoke, "What the fuck is that? It tastes like how week-old piss smells!"

"Yeah," She laughs, taking it back from him, "It really sucks."

"Ah," She takes another drag, "It works well though."

Hector glares at her when she offers it to him and she just shrugs.

There's a noticeable chill when they get topside, and they're greeted with pine trees.

It almost reminds her of home. Not the mansion her uncle kept her trapped in that, that no matter how crowded it is you still feel alone. No, it reminds her of the small house in the mountains, in the woods, with the field, and the pond, and the two apple trees out front.

The ground is uneven beneath them, and Sylvester stumbles on a root, cursing when he nearly goes down, but she seems to be at home here.

They walk for a few more hours until it's obvious that Ada is struggling.

They set up camp, and she all but collapses next to the fire. She's exhausted after spending the last twenty-something hours on her feet.

She lays on the ground, head on her arms, and falls asleep almost immediately.

She looks so adorable, cheek squished and lips parted, just like after the first time we- Hector can't keep his thoughts from her. It was all a lie.

Most of the night is uneventful. But then she starts coughing, choking on something in her sleep.

His back straightens when she sits up, worry flooding his veins against his will. The coughs get worse, wet. And eventually, she folds over her hand and hacks up whatever it is.

When she turns back there's blood dripping from her lips and chin into her open hand as she sucks in air.

"Jesus Christ," Felix looks at her in horror.

She just reaches into her cardigan pocket and pulls out a handful of Kleenex. She leans over and spits out another mouthful of blood before wiping her face clean.

"Does anyone have any water?" She croaks, looking up at her companions.

Hector tosses over a waterskin and she rinses her mouth out.

"What the hell was that?" Felix asks.

"Thanks," She hands the water back to Hector, giving him the nonchalant answer of, "It happens."

"The fuck it does not."

"It does to me."

She looks so ill when she lays back down like any life left in her had been coughed up with the blood.

It's against his better judgment, but the next day he stays close to her, it's like an instinct to stay within two steps of her.

She's slower than the day before, body still recovering from their previous trek.

When her crutch slips in a patch of loose dirt he's there to catch her. He's not as gentle as he used to be, catching under her arm to pull her back to her feet and letting go, but she's grateful all the same.

"So why did you stop coming to the park?" He asks out of nowhere, "Finally get bored of me?"

""Heh, no," She says with a small laugh, "No, my doctor's insisted."

"After what happened that last night, it wasn't safe for me to be out here."

"That last night," He repeats. No matter what he does, that memory is burned in his mind. Her convulsions and the feel of her life slipping through his fingers, "My recollection is a bit fuzzy."

"Oh, you know," She looks away and blinks back tears behind her glasses, "Just another normal day in the park until I had this bad, really bad, seizure."

"The medics here said I almost died," She wipes her nose on her shoulder, "I never did get to thank you for making sure that didn't happen."

His feet stop and he watches her walk ahead of him.

He saved her?

She was alive.

He kept her that way.

And they took that from him?

He can feel his hardened facade start to crack. The idea she hadn't wanted to leave him crumbling his resolve to hate her.

It's dark when it starts to snow, and he feels his chest warm when her face lights up. There's something so innocent about the way she smiles at the sky.

She reaches out, almost tripping over herself to catch a particularly big flake, a giggle of childlike wonder bubbling from her throat.

He's not well-versed in the cold, but the way her breath puffs from her pink nose is one of the most adorable things he's seen in years and makes the weather bearable.

"I haven't seen the snow in years," She hasn't smiled this much for just as long, "I missed it."

He can almost picture her curled up next to a window near a fireplace, wrapped in a thick blanket, watching the snowfall through frosted panes. The thought is cozy, like her.

"Yeah? Well, I'm fucking freezing," Sylvester snaps. It's not surprising. It's the wet kind of snow. The kind that soaks through your skin and freezes your bones, "We've been walking forever, where the hell are we?"

"North edge of the park, maybe three or four sectors East from the Homesteads?" Lee estimates, "We're near the Klondike narrative."

"That doesn't sound right."

"Oh," the group turns to Ada, "You know more about the park layout than I do now?"

"No, I just mean," She sighs, "If we were where you think we are that would be right, but this doesn't look like the Klondike narrative."

"What do you mean?"

"Look," Maeve points to a campfire a handful of yards away. Hector and Armistice take point, guns drawn as they approach.

"I'm pretty sure some of these trees aren't from North America."

He's about to argue when something catches his eye.

She starts to follow behind the rest of the group, an uneasy feeling washing over her.

"Maybe they're friendly," Hector jokes.

"If they aren't we'll kill them," Maeve says.

He hears Ada creep up closer behind him and glancing at her he can tell she's on edge.

No matter how long it's been, her heart still considers him her safe space. She knows the safest place to be in a fight is near him.

He takes a strange sense of pride from the fact she still comes to him for comfort.

"This feels wron-"

"We need to leave!" Sizemore yells, "We need to get the fuck out of here, right now!"

Maeve shushes him, but Ada takes another step towards her and Hector.

A man comes running at them from the woods, sword in his hand.

She shoves Maeve out of the way of his slash, crutch slipping in the snow, making her fall.

"What the hell is that?" Hector asks, stepping in front of her.

"Looks like a dead man to me," Armistice grins.

"You know the old saying about knives and gunfights?" Maeve asks, helping Ada to her feet. As soon as the words leave her lips a rope appears around her, Hector, and Armistice.

They tighten around them, making her drop Ada, and Hector to misfire.

The force of the second fall knocks something loose in her lungs and she can't hear what Maeve is saying over her own coughing.

The man replies in Japanese and sheaths his sword. He says something else, something about the 'lame one,' and one of his men moves to stab her.

"Waitwaitwaitwait!" She holds her hands up, "Uh..."

She stumbles clumsily through a sentence in Japanese, begging them not to kill her.

The man sighs, seeing at the way Hector looks at her as he struggles 'If you slow us down, you will die.'

The man above her puts his weapon away and hauls her to her feet.

They're each bound, arms behind their back.

"W-whoa, hey my body doesn't-!" She nearly bites through her lip to keep from crying out when they yank her arms back, a sickening pop coming from somewhere in her back.

Hector pulls at his own binds at the sound, but there's nothing he can do to help.

He walks slowly as they're marched toward their destination, keeping the pace from getting too fast for her as she struggles along. One particularly fumbled step nearly makes her fall, but she collides with his shoulder, trying to keep her upright.

The ronin seems to know what he's doing, jabbing at his back to speed him up, but all it does is piss him off more.

Around daybreak, Lee explains their predicament here in Shogunworld.

Ada looks like she's about to pass out and Hector steps closer to her, letting her lean on him if she needs. She takes his offer, head falling to his shoulder, a grateful noise coming from her throat.

She gasps, knees buckling when the man at the other end of her rope tugs, pulling her from him. Without her hands to catch her she hits the ground hard.

Hector spins around to spit at him, "This world will end badly, but I'll make sure your end is worse!"

He and Lee kneel down to help give her leverage as she tries to stand.

She leans against Hector again as their captors speak, breathing labored.

"Why didn't you just shoot me?" She wheezes and he's not sure if she's serious or if it was just a bad joke.

"You'll make it," He assures her, lips pressing against the top of her head, "I'll make sure of it."

By the time they make it to the village, her legs are numb and her spine is screaming. All of her nerves are on fire.

"My god," Armistice breathes, "It's us."

"Some head of Narrative you are," Ada laughs, wearied and light-headed.

"Hey! So the ribbing is the same? You try writing three hundred stories in three weeks!" Lee argues.

She doesn't even care when fighting breaks out, or that she's being used as a human meat shield, not with the way her knees are trembling beneath her.

When Hanaryo gives them the chance to escape and she's untied, she crumples to the ground.

Hector tries to help her up, but she just shakes her head, "Go. I'll be fine."

She jumps at the gunshot that echoes once they enter the building, her anxiety rising.

After a few minutes of quiet, she hears footsteps come toward her. She looks up to see Hector as he holds a hand out to her.

She takes it, but can't seem to pull herself off her knees, frustrated tears start to form in her eyes and she feels like she's about to completely lose it, "Fuck!"

He bends down and takes her in his arms, bridal carrying her inside. For a moment she feels like that eighteen-year-old girl crying on the floor of the inn at Story's End again.

She doesn't want him to let go when Maeve and Akane take her to get cleaned up.

They help her undress, sharing a look when they see the scars littering her body. They don't say anything as they help lower her into a bath, her body soaking in the warmth of the water.

"Hector seems to be falling into old habits with you," Maeve comments, now in her own tub.

Ada nods, hands shaking as she brings another joint to her lips.

"You haven't told him to do otherwise."

She knows what she's hinting at, and honestly doesn't have the mental strength or patience to deal with it.

"Why would I?" She asks, "He's a grown-ass man, he can do what he wants."

"As long as what he wants is you."

"As long as what he wants is what he wants."

"How did you get those scars?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because, darling, I need to know if I can trust you-"

"I tried to kill myself. Can we stop with the twenty questions now?" She doesn't let her answer, sinking down, submerging her head in the murky water.

Once she's deemed clean enough, Maeve helps her stand again.

Akane provides her with a dusty rose-colored kimono and as she's getting dressed Maeve comes up behind her.

"I shouldn't have pried," She says, "I apologize."

She's left alone in front of the mirror, running a comb through her damp hair. She flinches when her fingers graze the scar on her right temple, and her hand covers her eyes as she tries not to cry.

She takes a deep, shaky, breath and looks herself in the eye through the reflection, "Don't you cry. Don't you dare fucking cry, damnit!"

She takes a moment to pull the top of her hair back and tie it in a bun.

Hanaryo brings her her crutches and she's able to join the others in the main room.

Hector is so busy glaring at his Shogun doppelganger that he almost misses Ada sneak in. But once he sees her he can't stop seeing her.

It's like that first day at the Mariposa,.

"A vision," He murmurs to himself.

She sits against the wall near the sliding doors to the courtyard, as far from the center of attention as possible.

She scans the room, eyes catching his stare. She gives him a small smile, cheeks darkening.

It's too late.

It was too late the moment she smiled at him at gunpoint.

He was still so deeply in love with her it made him look stupid.

Maeve knows it too. She's known since since the same moment. That, through both their anger and pain, they were still unconditionally and irrevocably in love with each other, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Ada leans back against the wall, using it as support as they watch Sakura dance.

Her eyes keep flicking back to Hector, the way he's glaring at the man outside is making her want to climb in his lap, take his face in his hands, and kiss him until he's smiling.

She absentmindedly claps with the crowd when the dance ends, not really paying attention.

She watches as he stands, walking in Maeve and Lee's direction.

"You know who I don't trust?" He asks quietly, motioning to Musashi with his chin, "Him."

"Just say the word and I'll skin him like a rabbit."

She holds back a laugh and Maeve looks at him, shocked, "What's the matter with you?"

It's not what he wants to hear and he stands up, a look of annoyance on his face. He stands by the doorway, hands behind his back.

He's so close to her, but still out of reach.

As if he can sense her yearning, he steps closer, eyes not leaving the target of his paranoia until he's right in front of her, kneeling down.

"How are you doing? Better?"

She gives him a weak smile, hand reaching up to adjust a stray black hair that had fallen loose, "You look handsome like this."

The corners of his lips twitch upwards, her fingers tracing ghost-like down his cheek, his voice low, "I shouldn't still feel like this."

Her face falls and she pulls away.

"What's wrong, amor?"

She shakes her head, head turned down, refusing to meet his gaze.

His finger curls beneath her chin, forcing her to look at him, and the dam breaks. Fat, wet tears roll down her cheeks as her breath hitches.

As hard as she tries, she can't stop them, "I can't do this again."

He holds her face, wiping them away, trying his best to quietly calm her.

"It's not fair to you," She holds his wrist, "Hector."

"I'm here."

"I'm dying."

#Hector Escaton #westworld #prisma self ships #Absolute corruption #prisma writes #hector escaton x oc #self ship story #self ship writing #self shipping

[iiruwu]

give us some harringrove recs bestie!

i gotchu bae!! but be warned, many of these are pretty much just the ones i've read at the top of the list, filtered by most kudos b/c thats just how i find all my fics. so, there's a chance you might've gone through them already. regardless these are some of my faves and have stuck with me for years after reading them. (this was also requested by @roseinthewoods so here you go!)

let us begin:

Under the Covers by ToAStranger -> my all-time fave harringrove fic. this absolutely deserves its popularity and has one of the best characterizations i've ever seen of the entire cast post-s2. not only are billy and steve super fleshed out, but i just adored how steve interacted with jonathon and nancy (who were equally great as far as characterization goes) along with many other characters. but steve rlly shines in this one! this author truly brings the world to life with their writing and makes you feel like you're really watching everyone's lives unfold in an organic, but also bittersweet story :)

dried up, half full by lymricks -> SUCH a good billy characterization. i mean, truly. also one of the best interpretations i've seen of what could have been billy's journey towards becoming a better person. lots of angst and inner turmoil. made me feel like i was truly in billy's shoes and rlly conveyed this sense of just not being able catch a break in any aspect of life throughout the story. im also gonna throw a quote in here that i have had saved for a while just 'cause it was so heartbreakingly good:

we could be heroes (just for one day) by brawls, ToAStranger -> another fic with really good characterization overall. unfortunately this one is unfinished but as im skimming this im remembering that the dynamic between steve and billy for this was just AGHHHH i was frothing at the mouth the whole time. so funny and sweet and very slowww to build up. it was a very realistic take on billy in specific post-s3, but, more than that, i loved the inclusion of almost the entire ensemble throughout this fic. the kids were such rays of light, it rlly made this fic that much better :)

master of puppets, i'm pulling your strings by wearealltalesintheend -> ONE OF MY FAVES!! this fic hooked me on the idea of billy & robin being friends and i was totally obsessed for a little while afterwards. the author wrote the two of them so damn well together in the s3 plotline and i just love how they were snarky as hell but also progressively more friendly and deeply trusting of each other as billy continued to open up. its also refreshing to see harringrove from an outsider perspective, with robin being there to help them connect the dots. (also characterization was an a+ as usual!)

Don't Leave Me (Hanging on the Telephone) by Glitter_Bug -> this is a fic that is a lottt more recent in comparison to the others. i've been reading this since it was about halfway done and i must say - the banter is PHENOMENAL between steve and billy. the dialogue alone hooked me in with how accurate to the 1980s it was with references and had me reading non-stop. the concept of billy being stuck in the upside-down and only able to contact the real world through the phone at steve's house is sooo damn good. it rlly offered a lot of opportunity for fun scenes with them through phone calls. this is also a fic that is actively being updated and is nearing the end soon!

Renegade (Who Had It Made) by moonflowers -> this was a very tender fic about billy's supposed death and included multiple POVs. i found max's POV abt her grief and coming to terms with his death to be such a nice inclusion that added a great touch to the story and also the many journal entries that she found as well!!! this fic felt very human and personal, like it was something not meant for ppl to see - which, considering the concept of max finding billy's journal with notes about steve in it and giving it to steve, makes sense. it was a nice harringrove slowburn overall!

andddd there we go! these are the most memorable ones i've read but there are so so many more harringrove fics out there that are just as good. i found some interesting ones just while skimming the tag alone. hopefully you liked this anon!!! these are very near and dear to my heart :')

#st #stranger things #billy hagrove #steve harrington #harringrove #max mayfield

[burgundybmw]

Guitar String of Fate

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,372 (plus social media posts)

Warning: Angst (just the lyrics to the songs on the album, everything else is fluffy!), Game of Thrones critique and reference to its violent content (it makes sense later)

Summary: When the band Daughters of Lilith tour bus breaks down in the middle of Indiana, they are left stranded for a few hours waiting for help. Y/N (also known by Echo) sees a bar in the distance with a giant LIVE MUSIC sign in bright neon lights, she tells the girls they might as well find some entertainment while they wait. The local favorite Corroded Coffin is playing, and when she locks eyes with the guitar player for the first time, Y/N can’t help but feel the electricity in the air. Will this be a missed connection? Or will the strings of fate bring them together again?

Author’s Note: Here it is! The first chapter of Guitar String of Fate! Hope you guys enjoy it! Let me know if you want to be tagged in future updates!

Part I

[Official transcripts from the interview with Daughters of Lilith written by Frederick Benson, MTV News. Copyright © 2020 Viacomm International Inc. - All Rights Reserved]

This is Fred Benson coming to you live from Indianapolis! Fresh off the Antiquity tour, we have with us the members of Daughters of Lilith!

Echo: Lovely to be here!

Eden: Hey guys!

Chrissy: Hey everyone!

Barb: Hello!

Vickie: Hey!

For those who aren't in the know, Daughters of Lilith is an all girl rock band from Los Angeles, California. They took the music world by storm back in 2019 with their debut album "Into The Gorgon's Eyes." In an era where rock music was thought to be dead and buried, these ladies have brought it back to the land of the living! With millions of streams and stadiums across the country sold out, Daughters of Lilith has certainly rocked our worlds. Now tell us, how does it feel to finish up with your first continental tour?

Echo: It's definitely bittersweet. Everything has been amazing so far, all of our fans coming out to see us is absolutely surreal.

Vickie: Oh definitely, sometimes I feel like I'm going to wake up and this all thing was just a dream my brain made up.

Eden: I'm still shocked people actually like our sh*t. When we first formed the band we had no clue it would blow up like this.

Chrissy: It's crazy, because like, going on stage used to be so scary for me. Now it's like second nature! I loved seeing everyone's signs in the audience and watching them sing along to our music. It's so cool!

Barb: It feels good to be back in my home state of Indiana, but I can't wait to get back to LA for some much needed rest for sure.

Some R&R is definitely deserved, especially with the new album coming out in a few weeks. "A Mausoleum Knight's Dream" is heavily anticipated, when you guys dropped the title it went viral on social media. Can you tell us a bit about it?

Eden: It's definitely a different vibe from our first album, Y/N wrote most of the lyrics herself. I remember we were sitting in our apartment and I woke up to use the bathroom. I found her in the kitchen scribbling in her notebook like a woman possessed.

[Edit: Y/N L/N goes by the stage name Echo. Her band mates refer to her by her legal name in interviews]

Chrissy: She wrote the entire thing in like 2 days! It was insane! I don't think she slept!

Echo: I wasn't that bad...

Barb: You were. You were chugging espresso like it was water. Eden had to throw you in bed to get a couple hours of sleep and you snuck out the window!

Echo: I was in the groove!

Vickie: That just proves our point!

A whole album in two days! That's certainly something!

Echo: They're being dramatic. It was more like a week, but yea it was a lot. I got the idea for the album when we went to go see Shakespeare in the park. I get a lot of my inspiration for music from literature.

Yes of course. "Into The Gorgon's Eyes" was inspired from the Greek myth, right?

Eden: Yea and other myths and stories as well. Vickie and Y/N are big Greek mythology nerds.

Vickie: I'm a big Percy Jackson fan! But that wasn't the only reason why we chose the theme.

Echo: I think the story of Medusa is unfortunately something a lot of people can relate to. A lot of greek tragedies are. I wrote 'Wool Stained Red' after watching Game of Thrones actually. As much as I loved the show, the graphic displays of violence were absolutely horrific. It's insane how normalized violence is in media. How it's trivialized for plot development. We see it with Medusa, she was a victim of a crime and she became the villain, a monster. We sort of ran with the idea that we should show the other perspective. History, literature, myth, they're often written by the winners. We wanted to tell the story of the side characters, the ones who are cast aside to push the hero's narrative.

'Wool Stained Red' is actually one of my favorites on the album. Whenever I listen to the opening verse and chorus it always gives me goosebumps.

[Edit: 'Wool Stained Red' is the third song on the album.

Verse 1: They tell us as little girls / To watch for the wolf in sheep's clothes / Don't frolic, don't go, don't stray / Beasts lurk in the shadows / I thought I was safe inside, the door was locked up tight / You came like a ghost in the night, and now I'm the ghost inside

Chorus: The shroud that drapes around me is not as clean as it should be / I walked alongside the virgo / I tried to say no (tried to say no) / This stain won't go away, no matter how hard I try / You've marked my soul forever, until the day I die]

Barb: Y/N wrote the opening and Eden did the chorus. At the time, they were fighting over the notebook to get all of their ideas out.

Eden: We wouldn't have to argue over it if she didn't insist on using the same notebook for music...

Echo: It's my lucky charm! I bought ten of them from the same store for when we eventually run out of pages. I swear it's like magic, I can't write in anything else.

Chrissy: It's so cute actually, she takes care of that thing like it's her baby.

Vickie: She doesn't go anywhere without it.

Is that where you wrote A Mausoleum Knight's Dream?

Echo: Sure is. I'm excited to see what people think about it, I don't know if I can wait two weeks for it to drop. Patience is certainly not my virtue.

You're certainly not alone with that, fans have been buzzing for months for its release. Especially after the overwhelming success of the Antiquity Tour. Are you guys going to do another one for this album?

Vickie: We would love to! If the album does well I'm sure another tour is on the horizon.

So what's next for you ladies? Gonna spend some time in Indiana before heading back to LA?

Barb: I wish we could, but we have events planned in LA for the new album release. It would be nice to spend some time in my hometown for a bit, but we might come back the next time we have downtime.

Echo: I was really bummed out about that. I really wanted to see Hawkins.

Hawkins, Indiana?

Chrissy: Yea! Barb, Vickie, and I are from there! Funny enough, we didn't really know each other well until we all met again in LA.

Vickie: We actually all went to the same high school, but Hawkins High is pretty big and we didn't run in the same circles back then.

Barb: Chrissy was a cheerleader, Vickie was in band, and I was more of a home body. It's insane to think about where I am today. If you would have told 16 year old Barbara Holland she'd be in a rock band with millions of fans, she would have said you were insane. I only had one best friend in high school, her name's Nancy. We're still really close.

I'm actually an alumna of Hawkins High funny enough.

Barb: I knew I recognized you! You were on the paper with Nance right?

I was! I can't believe you recognized me! It's good to see you again.

Barb: It's good to see you again too, Freddie!

Eden: I'm feeling very left out right now.

Echo: I guess we're not cool enough to be a part of the Hawkins crew Edy.

Vickie: Oh you two are so dramatic.

Chrissy: We'll all plan a vacay soon! You guys can see where we grew up!

Echo: Sounds good Chris, I'd love to see it.

As much as I love this trip down memory lane, we unfortunately have to wrap up this interview. Any final words to your fans in Indiana?

Echo: You guys were kick ass last night! Can't wait to come back!

Eden: Till next time Indiana.

Chrissy: Bye everyone! We love you guys so much, thanks for coming out!

Vickie: Hope you guys like the new album!

Barb: Thank you Indianapolis, and shout out to Hawkins!

That's everything folks! This was Daughters of Lilith with you live in Indianapolis! A Mausoleum Knight's Dream drops in 2 weeks, so stay tuned for that!

Eddie was procrastinating, but it wasn't his fault. Really. It was Robin's. If she never suggested new music to him he would have actually made progress with Corroded Coffin's new material. How was he supposed to resist the temptation of an album called Into The Gorgon's Eyes? It was like a siren's call. The link to the album Robin had sent just begging to be played. Eddie knew Gareth would give him shit for listening to another band's music instead writing for his own, but when he did he care about Gareth's opinion anyway? He thinks Whitesnake is one of the best bands to come out of the 80s. Clearly his opinion was wrong.

Robin had told him that the best way to listen to the album was from beginning to end. That once he started it, he had to finish it. He had a few hours before he had to leave for The Hideout, so he decided to put it on early instead of playing it in his van. It was the best decision he made in weeks.

Daughters of Lilith's music wasn't like anything he'd listen to before. The melody transported him outside of himself. It sounded as if he was inside of a cave, or some abandoned ruins in an ancient land far away from Hawkins, Indiana. He understood why the lead singer decided to go by Echo, her voice surrounded him on all sides, moving through him like a stark winter's chill.

Robin was right when she said it was a masterpiece. It was haunting. Tragic. Eddie was hooked. The introduction 'My Body Is A Temple' was lighter, bright for a nu metal/goth rock band. All of the instrumentals were acoustic. Echo's voice shined; her high notes reminiscent of the church choir Eddie's mom made him join as a kid. Surrounded by stone, the reverb bouncing off the walls of his mind. Peaceful, angelic. Completely different from the song that followed it.

'Violated' began with an intense guitar rip, so loud it almost deafened him. The drums pounded against his ears like most of the metal music he listened too. What differentiated it from the rest was the soft keys of the piano that broke through the heavy tone. Echo's voice was heartbreaking. As if she was on the brink of tears. Pure agony. That's how most of the Into The Gorgon's Eyes went, a contrast of harmony and discord.

The last song on the album hit him the hardest. There are only a handful of songs that ever made him cry, 'Hemlock' was one of them. It left him feeling raw. Untethered to the space he occupied in his bedroom. Eddie knew he was going to be late for tune up at the Hideout, but he didn't care. When the song finished, he instantly replayed it. The melancholy sounds of Echo's sirens call beginning again.

Your hubris is showing my dear/ It’s what will destroy you /You swallow your pride without fear / Until those lips I once kissed turn blue / I wish I could say I was surprised / But from me, oh you could never hide /

The poison fills your veins / Like the way you filled my head / You tried to mask your pain / Now I sleep alone in our bed / They tell me it’s not your fault, that it’s a disease of the mind / And it’s so easy to say, until they watch the decay of your eyes that were once kind /

Gifts of the Earth can heal / They can send you to your grave / You’re sprinting backwards on life’s old wheel / That’s not how one should behave / And you won’t drag me there with you, despite how hard you tried / I’d rather walk this road alone than become a widow before a bride /

The poison slowly fills your veins / Like the way you filled my head / You tried to mask your pain / Now I sleep alone in our bed / They tell me it’s not your fault, that it’s a disease of the mind / And it’s so easy to say, until they watch the decay of your eyes that were once kind /

…

I told you I told you / Time and time again / The flowers are not so pretty / When they can bring the kiss of death / Say hello my darling, to the fates of three / When they cut your cord and steal your last breath / You told me I was your Eurydice, that you’d go to Hell and back for me / You’re a lyre, you stole the gold from the windows of my soul to pay Charon’s fee / I told you I told you / It was never if but when /

The poison slowly fills your veins / Like the way you filled my head / You tried to mask your pain / Now I sleep alone in our bed / They tell me it’s not your fault, that it’s a disease of the mind / And it’s so easy to say, until they watch the decay of your eyes that were once kind /

The poison slowly fills your veins / Like the way you filled my head / You tried to mask your pain / Now I sleep alone in our bed / I sleep alone in our bed /I sleep alone in our bed /

When you wake up tomorrow, will it be heaven sent?

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson #stranger things eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson au #eddie munson modern au #eddie munson social media au #eddie munson smau #stranger things #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #stranger things fanficton #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things au #stranger things modern au #stranger things social media au #stranger things smau

[galaxyzone]

My top 6 favorite musicals

6. Next to Normal

This list was gonna be a top 5 but I couldn’t not include this musical. I’ve only seen one production of it and it was actually at my college but it was the best production I ever saw there. Really pulls at the heart strings and it has wonderful music.

5. Beetlejuice the Musical

I finally got to see this for the first time back in December and it was just really fun! Phenomenal set design and costume design and of course amazing performances. It even made me cry during one scene and I wasn’t expecting this one to make me cry! Also made me a bit nostalgic for the movie. Just so much fun and definitely a must-see for live theatre!

4. Fun Home

This musical absolutely breaks me every damn time. Even just listening to the soundtrack gets me crying, this musical destroyed me in the best way. I unfortunately have a bittersweet memory of it as it’s the last show that my ex and I worked on together right before we broke up (I was the SM & she was Medium Alison), so I haven’t been able to listen to it or even think about it since, but that doesn’t change the fact that this is such a fantastic and heartbreaking musical that resonated with me so well.

3. Hadestown

Oh my GOD this musical gives me chills. I’ve gotten to see it live twice and both times have just left me so awe-struck, I don’t know quite how to explain it. Everything is just phenomenal. The story telling, the set, the acting, the singing, the music, the choreography. Seeing this musical was one of those experiences that reminds you exactly why you’re pursuing what you’re pursuing. This musical made me fall in love with theatre all over again and reminded me why I want to do it.

2. Legally Blonde the Musical

I will always love this musical and it will always hold a special place in my heart, especially as a feminist. This is such a good musical for women and feminism in general. The way that Elle learns that she doesn’t have to change who she is in order to be successful is SUCH an important message for women and girls. Being feminine doesn’t make you any less serious and people shouldn’t think less of a woman simply for the way she chooses to live her life. Also, Elle and Emmett are just adorable and one of the cutest couples in musical theatre. I’ll always have a soft spot for this show.

1. Into the Woods

What I consider to be a theatrical masterpiece. This show will ALWAYS be my favorite. It’s the first musical I ever fell in love with and it’s never leaving my #1 spot. I just don’t see that happening. The storytelling is some of the most creative and genius storytelling I’ve seen in theatre. The music is obviously iconic and challenging as hell but SO good. There are so many clever themes and motifs, so much symbolism and parallels, I could go on about my analysis of each character and their respective character arc. I also just love the way they were able to tie multiple iconic fairytale stories together and they touch on what happens after “happily ever after” and I just love that. I remember when the movie came out and people thought it should’ve ended on the happy ending (which would be the end of act 1 in the stage version), and it just bugged me how those people so clearly missed the whole point of the second act. The show is telling us that life isn’t as simple as “happily ever after.” This musical is one of the few musicals that wasn’t afraid to touch on more taboo subjects and darker storylines, and I love it so much for all of that.

#this is a random post but it was on my mind lol #musicals #musical theatre #oh man the amount I wrote for Into the Woods compared to the others sjfbsjjdjsjs😅 #I mean it IS my favorite so that’s kinda expected isn’t it lol

[legendfinder]

compare daniel mullins games to a christmas carol

This question was sent on October 10th, 2023. I meant to answer it during, yknow, Christmas. Well, you can guess what happened. But no matter! Here we are, exactly 1 month later. Pretend today is Christmas, ok?

One of the reasons why I think I put off answering this for so long is because I felt like I had to somehow match the quality of my earlier answer about Jacob Geller's archival video. Needless to say, I'm not going to do that. I'm too tired for that. I'll keep this short.

Of course, inevitable spoilers for Pony Island & The Hex & Inscryption.

The order I experienced Daniel Mullins' games was Pony Island, then Inscryption, then The Hex, and the feeling of having all those different things melge around in my brain for a while... It made me realize, after the fact, that it felt almost like a self-reflection of sorts. A strange bittersweet intervention, if you may. I felt like I was visited by the ghosts of *my* past, present, and future.

Pony Island was a game I watched Markiplier play years ago. I was still in middle school at the time, and... It left quite an impact on me. Perhaps younger me didn't quite realize how that game specifically left a mark on him, but that game had all the hallmarks of what I'd later internalize into my own personality. I love things that aren't as they seem on the surface; I love when it's possible to break something beyond what it's intended, to give yourself more agency than you should. I love content shifts, both in aesthetic and gameplay. The programming puzzles were just a cherry on top, as I had a big passion especially for block-based programming languages like Scratch. It was a perfect game for me, and probably shaped a good chunk of my ideas going forward. That game is the ghost of my past.

Then came Inscryption, which I only beat a few months ago. It was... Strange, seeing the KamWerks videos, after having created a similar experience myself for the Moon ARG not too long ago. Just like Pony Island, the familiar hallmarks returned; a game going deeper than it advertises, a game that seems to "break", a game that shifts its tone and form several times over. Except this time, it didn't necessarily seem to shape me as much as Pony Island; I played the game specifically because these hallmarks would be there. This type of game *is* what I already was, and I loved it for that. And, er, the robot was also the cherry on top. Just saying. The game is a ghost of my present self.

Before I talk about the Hex, there's something about Inscryption I noticed only because it reminded me of my own creative process. See, the game to me felt like Daniel Mullins wanted to make a card game, went "hm. how many ways can I make a card game?" and just accepted every answer. It was as if he had some sort of bucket labeled CARD GAME IDEAS that he just dropped any sort of shit into, and managed to make a coherent game out of that. That is... Exactly what I do, too. I create categories of buckets and let them gradually fill up over time, stringing them into coherent objects at a later point once it feels fully formed, although by that point it'll also have gathered a whole heck of a lot of extra bits. It isn't necessarily a good or bad thing, but... Y'know. It felt surreal.

Lastly... The Hex. The Hex is a game that wasn't fully on my radar, and I only decided to play it because of its ties to Inscryption (that's important, keep that in mind). Remember those Mullinsisms I mentioned before? Deep games, breaking things, content shifts? This game is that, in full fucking force. This wasn't just one bucket, no no no; This feels like an entire fucking brewery of different ideas. How many things can I make for an RPG? A tactics game? A fighting game? A fucking top-down shooter?? It's absurd how rapidfire this game is. I feel like every single emotion a human can experience is in there somewhere. I'm probably in there somewhere. Well, I am, in a sense.

The one thing that led me to create this connection between Daniel Mullins and a christmas carol (yes, I asked callie to ask me this question, fuck you) was... The ending of The Hex. The very, very, self-indulgent and meta ending of The Hex. The ending that also features Daniel Mullins (or "Lionel Snill", which, come on. That is literally just Daniel Mullins' name distorted) getting strangled by his own game. Consumed by it, literally, but also figuratively. The game, by virtue of this ending, has partly become a commentary on his journey to try and make a suitable follow-up to Pony Island.

I am a very self-indulgent person. Like I said in the last answered ask, I have a google drive of everything I ever made. I hold a lot of what I make up to a weird museum-like pedestal, and because of that I also tend to reference a lot of my earlier works in future ones. Remember those connections between Inscryption and The Hex? It's not enough for the games to be purely standalone experiences, they must also exist in a larger shared universe. Almost everything I made now exists in the Elemental Realm somewhere. A larger shared universe inhabited by self-inserts of varying degrees (there's something to be said about how everything in a story universe is a self-insert in a sense, but that's another post entirely). A place where every single idea I can ever have is crammed into one giant overarching narrative. I assign past ideas to new situations, often on a whim, just to see how they'd feel there.

To best understand my works now, it's better to understand me as a person.

...

One of the main antagonists of the Elemental Realm is a trickster clown with murky ambitions, although the true villain ends up being the author self-insert.

..

The Elemental Realm will end with a character escaping the universe and confronting the authors directly.

.

The Hex is the ghost of my future, and I don't know how I feel about that.

==============================================

Oh, did I say I was gonna make this post short? My bad.

There's a few nuances I wish I could hammer out but uhhhh brain fog. I'm making a lot of assumptions about Daniel Mullins' intentions for the sake of narrative; it's not like Lionel is *actually* a 100% Daniel Mullins self-insert, or that Mullins is actually just dumping every idea he has into one game. There are just little details that viscerally remind me of the way I'm personally going about things, and that's mainly what I wanted to make the post about.

Anywho, there's 2 minutes left until christmas is over. Signing off.

#leg answers asks #pony island #the hex #inscryption

[bonesandthebees]

Internship season is over! I am freeeeeeee! I can ramble again! Whooooooh! (don’t mind me completely ignoring my last assignments and the incoming exam season, it’s fiiiiiinnnneeee)

Anyway, the strings epilogue. Bee, I don’t know how you do this, but your epilogues always make me feel like crying and laughing at the same time. I’ve felt it before, Stars is a good example, but never this hard. It’s the fact that you know things will eventually turn out okay again, but it took a lot of pain to get there and thing will never be the same. It’s the way you never go with a full happy ending. And what I mean by that is that you don’t skip over the pain, you let it play out before giving us (and the character) the reward.

In WF it’s Tommy and Wilbur living on their own and going about their life before Phuk and Techno reach out again. There’s a promise of hope, but the suffering is still there. The trauma is still there. It doesn’t get erased for a happy ever after. The consequences stick.

Same with Stars, you could have let them find Niki earlier. You could have stared at the coronation and off handidly mention who they got her. That would have been a happy ending, but it wouldn’t have been a full ending. And you give us a full ending instead. You give us Wilbur finding Niki, you give us that bittersweet reunion. You give us three lost years but a promise for a better future.

And then there’s Strings. And this one hits particularly hard, because the characters know there missing Something, but they don’t remember What. And again. It can’t instantly go back to being okay. Tommy can’t just go back to his normal life and meet Wilbur right after. So for him it’s 2 year and for Wilbur it’s 5. And in that time both of them are looking for each other without knowing what they are looking for. And Tommy is looking in the right places too. The open mic night.

Also, it took me a while to realise, but it makes sense that everyone from L’manberg moved to Essempi. Their town is gone. So now they are all just roaming around in the same city as Tommy and he knows them, but he also doesn’t. And he doesn’t know why.

What I’m trying to say is, you do bittersweet ending really well. It always hurts, but it always feels rewarding at the end. It feels real. No fairy tale “and they lived happily ever after”. It’s always realistic to the actions and consequences of the characters and the rules of the universe.

-🌲

aaa spruce hello!! i hope your internship went well and good luck with your eventual exams!!! (ik you have another glass ask in here but i am saving that to answer when i am slightly less tired)

this is so nice to hear. I really love writing epilogues, because it's such a nice way to tie off the story and show the consequences of what happened. I feel like for certain stories, you have to show the long term effects of everything to really make the ending stick. sure, you can leave things up to the readers imagination, but why not give them a glimpse of what's happened since the end? you don't have to give full answers, but it gives an ending some room to stand on if that makes sense.

when it came to the stars epilogue, there was no question in my mind that i was going to show the full scene with wilbur finding niki. I wasn't just going to continuously mention her as a character and not give her a proper reunion. also, I knew from the moment i started the fic that wilbur and niki weren't going to reunite until years after the main plot. it just felt like it fit to me y'know?

and then there's strings. again strings is based off a movie, so a lot of the epilogue was taken from that, but I made my own adjustments to it. I won't say what adjustments so as not to spoil anything for those who haven't seen the movie, but I loved the idea of wilbur and tommy being drawn to each other over the years after everything went down. even if they couldn't remember, they knew they were missing something, and they were actively trying to find that missing piece. fate works in funny ways and all that.

yeah not everyone from l'manberg moved to essempi obviously, but the main cast did because it just made the most sense for most people. essempi is a huge city where there's a lot of jobs and opportunities available. wilbur of course was going to move there bc he always wanted to live in the city, which is what pushed phil and techno to follow him since they wanted to all be in the same city. niki and jack were like wilbur and wanted to be in a city as well.

but yes tommy knows them and he doesn't at the same time. they all keep bumping into tommy and he just misses it and so do they. except i will confirm wilbur and tommy did not bump into each other until the night we saw in the epilogue. it was an instant recognition thing for them.

i'm so glad to hear that my endings are like that though. I'm very much the type who wants to write happy endings, but ones that feel earned. that means the consequences still have to exist. it wasn't an easy victory, but that's what makes it more satisfying.

#ask #spruce anon #strings of fate

[long-live-taylorswift]

1989 First Listen

More under the cut because this got kinda long.

Welcome to New York

The sound of coming home 💜. The synths are just slightly different. The "Welcome to New York"s are more spaced? IDK how to describe it. I do like the harmonizing better than the original. Her vocals are more warm and crisp.

Blank Space

Opening sounds very similar to the original. Her vocals are much more polished. Oooooh the bass or synths or whatever in the back of the chorus. Nice. And it carried through the rest of the song!

Style

Different guitar riff sound. And that pulsing. That "fade into view". Just as much of a song to strut to as the original. That little chiming at the end of the first chorus! Was that keyboard in the back of the second chorus also in the first chorus? It's very pretty.

Out of the Woods

Is that Jack? I wanna see the credits for this to make sure. That chiming is different. Her vocals in the chorus are phenomenal. I like both this version and the original. That "Oh, I remember!"

All You Had To Do Was Stay

I miss the old synth opening, but the new one is really nice. Her vocals are lovely. And the synth in the background of the chorus. The snapping in the first verse! And that little "pew" in the background! 😆 The bridge still hits as hard. Oh! The background during the last chorus! That's so pretty!

Shake It Off

I miss the brassiness of the original. There's less background vocals in the first chorus. There's a weird clicking-chirping thing that's a little weird and distracting. This isn't a bad re-record, but there are things I definitely miss from the original. I do really like the "Hey! Hey! Hey!" part. Her voice sounds a lot better there. The bridge is still fun. Her voice is amazing in the last chorus. And that "Yeah!" 😆

I Wish You Would

One of my surprise songs! Different guitar riff in the beginning. This sounds a lot more fun than the original. Oh! The bright tone in the back! Her harmonizing in the chorus is lovely. Definitely better than the original. I really like the production on this.

Bad Blood

Oh! Her vocals at the opening! Is the instrumentation much sassier than the original? I miss the that "bew-bew-bew" in the pre-chorus being a little more forward, but her vocals sound amazing. The bells in the back of the second verse! That "just don't". And the bells made it to the second chorus! That reverb on her vocals during the bridge and the echoing are 👨‍🍳💋. She's really killing these last choruses on the album. They're all just so good.

Wildest Dreams

Okay, not a first listen with this one, as it's been out for a while. But still love it.

Her vocals on this are just beautiful. I wonder if they sampled her heartbeat again or if it's just a synthesized sound. There was a "pew" again in the second chorus and bridge! I did not notice that before. The background vocals of the "follow you around".

How You Get the Girl

The guitar is more acoustic in the opening than the original if that makes sense? Must be a different guitar or a different stringed instrument. I'll need to see some credits for this. Her vocals are really nice. The little changes are interesting. Not in a good or bad way, just interesting. That "oooo" in the second verse. I really like that bright tone in the second chorus. Is she gonna knock it out of the park with the last chorus? She did!

This Love

Another song that's not a first listen, but I really like the re-record of this one. It's stunning.

The guitar is lovely. I like the weird effect on her voice. It's weirdly brassy, but it works with the production. Her vocals are so much cleaner. The harmonizing is beautiful. That "need".

I Know Places

Oh, the recorder change in the beginning. That effect on her voice in the stutter. This sounds much more angry. And then the chorus hits and it's a bittersweet promise. IDK how to describe it. That "not this time". That growl! And back to the bittersweet 💔. And the click at the end.

Clean

Is Imogen Heap the producer on this one same as the original? She is! We're in good hands! Loving the new vibraphone, mbira, and boomwhackers. The brighter sound of the synths coming in is nice. The background "ah"s. Is that Imogen? It really sounds like her.

I may have started crying and forgotten to type the rest of my reaction to this song.

Wonderland

The piano is different at the beginning. The production for this one feels a little off to me. Her vocals in the second verse are much better than the first. Bells in the second chorus again. The last chorus made up for the shaky beginning tbh.

You Are In Love

Sounds so close to the original. Her vocals are brighter than the past couple of songs. I wonder if she recorded this shortly after Speak Now TV. What was that sound at the very end of the first verse? Kinda miss the guitar in the background. Coming back during the second verse? That bright chiming in the second verse is nice. GUITAR! But it went back into the rest of the instrumentation. Wish it was a little more forward. Okay, it's there a bit more in the last chorus but the synths are very overwhelming.

New Romantics

BAH BAH BAH BABAH! I feel like her vocals should be a bit warmer and deeper. Is this another song recorded after Speak Now? There's that "pew" again! Weird percussion sound? Or is it a keyboard? It's too far back in the synths to tell. Yeah, her vocals are def brighter than the original. I can almost guarantee this was recorded directly after Speak Now TV. She does sound like she is having an easier time singing it, but it just feels a little off.

"Slut!"

Is my lyric prediction right? Probably not lol. Not sure what I thought it would sound like, but not like this. This sounds somewhere between Reputation, Lover, and Midnights. I'm not sure what to think of the song, but it's nice. Her vocals are light and pretty. It feels shorter than it is.

Say Don't Go

Oooo, that whoopwhoopwhoopwhoop. Love her vocals in this. The production on this is a lot better than on "Slut!". And her vocals are stronger. That pause. Oof. I like the clipped words of the background vocals in the chorus.

Now That We Don't Talk

I like the instrumentation. Oh! Those deep vocals. The slander of who this is about. She's really dragging them.

Suburban Legends

Production is interesting. This definitely feels like a 1989 song, compared to the other bonus tracks. "Tick Tock on the clock". Wait When did Tik Tok by Kesha come out? 2009. Huh. Wait, white rabbit. Wonderland. 🤦

Is It Over Now?

This sounds exactly like I thought it would. "You dream of my mouth before it called you a lying traitor." Ouch. This def feels like a 1989 song.

Bad Blood feat. Kendrick Lamar

Did we bully Taylor into re-recording this one? Maybe. Does this feel absolutely right to have on a TV? Yes. Yes, it does. Loving the synth sound in the back. This hits just as hard as the original remix. Loving the very early Reputation vibes we're getting.

#taylor swift #1989 taylor's version #1989 taylor swift #1989 tv #1989 album

[moonlvsts]

To the woman who was once my moon.

This letter is written to the woman I used to love.

Hi. I hope you are well and happy on your own. I honestly don’t know why I’m scribbling here with my pen, writing something I might regret doing so, or might ignite a new beginning for me.  I just found myself wanting you, for the last time, to be the subject and the phrases I write in this letter. 

Whenever I remember “us,” I still feel that certain ache in my chest. “Our” memories surely were bittersweet. I used to ask the same question again and again only to find no answer at all. What happened to us, love? I used to call you “love” and every time I did, I let my heart fall for you deeper. Hearing your voice echoing inside the bottle of memories we shared, calling me with the exact word we used to call each other never failed to make my heart jump out of joy in the thought that “I am the luckiest man for having you as my better half.” I used to hold your hand any time of the day and just look at you with no worries that someday I might lose you. I was confident that I wouldn’t lose you since, in those moments, I was sure that loving you was the only thing that I was good at. I used to hug you whenever you wanted one or just lay down all day and cuddle under the warmth we exuded, watching movies or the episodes of the shows that we loved. I used to watch you fall asleep in my arms and look forward to tomorrow because I know that you’d be the first person I see the moment I open my eyes. I used to kiss your beautiful lips and you’d love it every single time as if we have our own little world, just the two of us against all odds. I used to say “I love you” every moment I get even though the demons inside my head continued to stab me broken, leaving so many cracks to heal. I surely did have the hardest time to fully express the thoughts inside my mind, but those three sweet words were the easiest words I could utter that could sum up everything I couldn’t say. I used to love you so much that I’ve made you the center of my world, and believe me when I say that I was the happiest because I truly was. Loving you has been the greatest thing I’ve ever done for myself. I used to think that we’d be fine as long as we were together, but at the end of the day, it’d all boil down to that question again. What happened to us? 

I used to think that there were no definite answers to that question. But after being away for two years, seeing how big you’ve grown as a woman of your own made all the bruises of the past worth it. Maybe we really needed to go through that path to make us stronger. Maybe we really needed to stop by, love like there was no tomorrow, and break for us to stand and restart again. You were the love of my life and that I’d be grateful for until my last breath. The wonderful months we’ve shared under the bright stars and the moon that we both loved will always have a special place in my heart. You were my muse, the subject of all my desires, and the phrases I write. You were my brightest moon that made my abyss breathe with your hues. You were my revival, my second chance, and the reason for my existence. And right now, I am my own. Happy and content with what I have, with no desire of falling in love again. The doors had been closed for two years and maybe, I’d keep it that way. Our stars collided and though the strings of love that entangled us broke, I will always be grateful that for once, I was given the chance to genuinely love someone and prove that I am capable of loving a woman like you. And maybe, if given a chance, in another lifetime or universe, I’d love you again.

- ☪

[saccmaass]

Recommended Bucky Barnes Fics

Here’s a list of all my favorite bucky barnes fics I’ve read lately, I hope you’ll enjoy them as much as I did! if you have any fic recs of your own pls send

Note: please pay attention to the warnings

Thank you @firefly-graphics for the dividers:)

Biker Bucky Makes Pancakes With Your Kids by @angrythingstarlight  Dad Beefy Biker! Bucky

911 Romeo by @buckys-blue-eyes  paramedic!bucky

paramedic!bucky coming to check you out cause you were out drunk with your friends and missed a curb, twisting your ankle pretty bad

He’s A Good Friend by @markandlexies  tfatws!bucky

reader is tired of watching bucky go on dates with leah and flirt with sarah. realizations are made about the way reader truly feels about the man she’s always thought to be just a friend.

Sleeping With A Friend by @wkemeup friends to lovers

You wake up in Bucky’s bed after a night you’re certain will only break your heart.

It's called: freefall by @kikixreverie  friends to lovers

Things get heated between you and your closest friend Bucky, when you're made to play a married couple on an important mission. Neither of you can help yourselves when you end up stuck in a hotel room together, with sexual tension you could cut with a knife.

uncontrollable by @barnesafterglow neighbors to lovers

the rising tension with bucky comes to a head

Top Of His List by @angrythingstarlight​ Mafia!Bucky

Your mafia boyfriend has a few priorities in his life and you’re number one.

Whatever It Takes by  @angrythingstarlight​ Mafia!Bucky

Bucky is willing to do whatever it takes to get you back. “But I know what I want, and I’ll do anything to get you back. You want me to beg, I’ll beg, you want me down on my knees, I’ll get down on my knees”

Not Happening by @notimetoblog Modern AU, enemies to lovers

An online dating site clearly makes a mistake when it matches you with the one person you cannot stand.

Something Borrowed by @buckys-darling Modern AU, friends with benefits

You’ve been in love with Bucky Barnes for as long as you can remember. Small problem, though: he’s engaged to your best friend. So why not sleep with his?

Bittersweet Temptations by @revengingbarnes Coffee shop AU, enemies to lovers

Bucky Barnes buys the coffee shop opposite to you, and quickly becomes your rival and the most annoying guy in your life.

10 Signs An Introvert Likes You by @andyl394 Avenger! reader

Bucky wasn’t the type of guy to show his feelings and neither were you the one to notice subtle things, until you come across this video. A guidance that may help you discover rather The Winter Soldier likes you or not.

It’s A Deal by @justreadingfics friends with benefits 

 You’re out of a relationship of 10 years and you’re just in desperate need to get laid, no strings attached, no romance, no complications. You dear friend Natasha feels like she’s going to regret this later, but she might have the perfect guy to fulfill your needs.

Bad Match by @justreadingfics Avenger! reader

Bucky and the Reader are set up on a date, but things don’t go as well as expected.  

The Holiday Hack [Two, Three] by @gogolucky13  Modern/Fake dating AU

You ask Bucky to be your stand-in boyfriend for your family’s Christmas party.

Play Pretend [ part II ] by @wkemeup  sex pollen

When Bucky is injected with a substance that leaves him desperate for release, you offer your help.

To Make A Soldier Blush Part 2 by @justreadingfics Avenger! reader

 You’re a new avenger and you have your own mission to accomplish: making Bucky Barnes blush every time you see him.

Being Rivals To Lovers With Bucky Barnes by @blushingbucky

soulmate AU  Bucky Barnes with songbird by @imaginearyparties​

soulmate AU -  guardian by @imaginearyparties​

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes headcanon #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes mini series #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes drabble #marvel #mcu #recommended #recommended fics #fic rec #au #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel one shot #marvel series #marvel headcanons #marvel mini series #marvel imagines #marvel drabbles

[yuzukult]

bittersweet. (m) || kmg & reader

title: bittersweet. pairing: kim mingyu x reader genre: angst, fluff, smut, established relationship!au word count: 3.1k warnings: dirty deed is done (aka explicit sex if you didn't catch that). profanity. prompt: you're always fighting. he doesn't get you. so why are you even still together? a/n: before any of my friends make fun of me, shaddup. anyways, this is for @/ficscafe dialogue prompt event! i'll be using #14: you make me weak.

He’s so adamant.

The crinkle in between his brows, the scrunch of his nose, and his incessant blinking from all the nerves, despite it all, he still stands firm on his beliefs.

But you’re fighting. Always fighting.

He doesn’t get you—he spends most of the time he's with you arguing about how insensitive you are as a person, how nonchalant you can be when you should be reacting with some type of emotion, and how he wished you’d been more affectionate with him.

But he doesn’t understand you. He thinks you’re selfish (sure, he didn’t outright state this, but you can sense him feeling this way.)

Albeit you’re unsure how you got yourself in this position—back flat against the wall, his hands on your wrists with his crotch pinning yours as your legs wrap around him securely to meet his gaze from the height difference.

“I need you to talk to me,” he rasps, anger filled in his voice. “I’m so tired of making this into some guessing game. Why can’t you just tell me how you feel?”

Although he’s got you cornered, rutting his hips into you once again, it's not persuasive enough. “Talk to me.”

“If you can’t figure me out, maybe we should just break up. I didn’t want to date in the first place.”

Jaw clenched, his eyes continue to melt into yours. He’s looking for anything—a sign, a glimpse, a crack in your exterior to see whatever it is you’re truly feeling inside. “Why do you always use that as a solution? Instead of just communicating?”

“Because—“ you halt, breath hitching when he shifts, the head of his cock rubbing against your bud through your thin material shorts. “—Because it’s an easier solution. What do you expect from me?”

“To tell me and show me if you like me or not. You’re like a fucking boulder. I can’t move you.”

You quirk a brow. “Your fucking holding me down right now. You’ve evidently proved you can move me elsewhere.”

“Emotionally,” he says, exasperated. “The most I can get you to feel something is when we’re fucking. I’m surprised we’re even fucking in the first place. You barely let me hold your hand!”

Rolling your eyes, you pull your arms from his hold and he lets go easily. It’s the type of person Mingyu is—he’s gentle, the complete opposite of you, with a heart of gold that everyone loves and appreciates. He’s lovable, known to many, and desired by them all, and somehow, you got him in your grasp and truthfully… you’re not sure what to do.

He’s fragile, but you have rough hands with toughened skin from years of experience and encounters. There’s this fear that you’ll drop him, shatter him into pieces as brittle as chinaware. So you hold the front, keep yourself strong with a facade tougher than concrete, because you’re afraid if you hold on too tight, he might break. And at the same time, he might break you too.

“You wanna know why?” You finally blurt, words firm and sharp. “Because you make me weak. And I don’t like being weak. I don’t like being known as weak. And you—you do that to me. I hate it.”

He furrows his brows. “I make you weak? The one girl I know to be the most resilient?” Mingyu has to scoff in disbelief because it’s the first time he’s hearing this. “You realize how insane you sound? It’s okay to have feelings for me. It’s why we’re together.”

Nose twitching, you suck in your cheeks. “I hate it. I hate this. I hate that when you turn to look at me in the morning, you give me that fucking… smile. Like I’m your whole world. Like you’re head over heels for me and I’m all that you see.”

“And why do you hate that?”

“Because, some part of me, deep down into the abyss, wants to look at you like that too.”

His jaw loosens, just like the restraints he had over his heart in the past hour of arguing, hands now finding purchase on your thighs to pull you back up closer. “Baby…” he calls out for you softly, the term of endearment nearly bursting your heart, but you keep yourself calm and collected as you normally do. “Then do it. Why are you so scared?”

“I told you.”

“That’s not a good enough reason.”

“Well, it’s good enough for me.”

He heaves a heavy breath. “Baby, I can’t keep doing this. I feel like I’m chasing you but I’m getting nothing out of it.”

Then, you reiterate the same words you’ve said multiple times, but there’s never any genuinity in it because you never actually… meant it. “Then let’s break up.”

“We’re not breaking up.”

“Then what do you want to do? Tell me. If breaking up isn’t the option, then tell me instead of having me up the wall if we’re not gonna fuck.”

“Fucking only happens when you’re pissed or when you’re making up.”

“So, what now?”

It’s Mingyu’s turn to roll his eyes. “We make up. I need you to talk to me. I can barely read you—the only thing I know for sure is that you don’t want this to end because you just admitted to me that you wanna look at me the same way I look at you.”

Frustrated, you let your head drop onto the wall behind you. “This is annoying. I don’t like expressing stuff. You just take what you get or leave. If you can’t figure out what’s going through my mind, what’s the point? Why put in the effort?” Eyes fluttering shut, you feel yourself wanting to crawl into a ball and just… hide. Despite being fully clothed, you feel naked when Mingyu asks for more. And what he’s asking for isn’t even unreasonable—you’re just horrible at telling people what you’re feeling. “I just… why can’t I just let you lay your head on my lap when you get home from work? Or… cook dinner with you. Even have it ready when you have long nights at work. Maybe even fold your laundry—I don’t know. I don’t like PDA but if you asked me, I’d hold your hand under the table. Or… hold it in your pocket on cold days.”

Then, Mingyu stays silent (for the first time).

It finally hits.

You’re not outspoken when it comes to soft things. You’re loving but not in the same way he is. You’re also honest and straightforward about everything except when it comes to admitting feelings for him.

And for once, when you say those words, he… he feels loved by you.

He remembers those days—after spending hours at the gym despite having a long work day, he’d come home and you’re there waiting for him on the couch so you could shower together. You’d help scrub his limp body, even though he moans and groans about how sore he is, but you do it nonetheless because you like him. Or when you stopped by at his apartment, one he shares with all his friends, because he was stuck with helping one of them build their beds and you brought them all, including himself, lunch. And that wasn’t to mention you were already working twelve hour days.

“Can you answer one question for me, then? I won’t force you to tell me again. I just need to hear it once.”

Your eyes open, and it feels like a mistake because your heart drops into your stomach. His gaze is hypnotizing, like he’s got you in a trance, and you respond with a ‘yes’ without much thought because of him.

Mingyu swallows all his anxiety before asking that million dollar question.

“Do you love me?”

Although you feel small being put on the spot like that, the one thing you’ll admit is that you’ve already predetermined the answer to this. And just as much courage as Mingyu puts into asking, you’ll reciprocate and do the same in answering because he’s admirable for even trying.

“Yes.”

Without much thought, he presses his lips against yours. You love him, although you rarely if not never say it, but you finally said those words and all he needs is to hear it just once for assurance. To know that there’s something he’s chasing for, that he’s not running in place like on a treadmill.

Arms snaking around his neck, you keep your hold there as his hands reach to your jaw, leveraging the kiss in an angle he’d prefer. When you kiss, he feels complete. He’s never felt like this with another girl before, this feeling of home, the feeling of comfort. You’re colder than brisk winters, but something about having you in his arms makes him warm.

Your fingers comb through his locks, and although it’s doused in gel and spent hours on doing this morning, he doesn’t mind because he knows he’s yours. When you kiss him back, he’s as anxious as he was when he had to go on stage and perform in front of people for the first time.

Gently pulling away, both your lips are pink and swollen with a string of saliva connecting between. Pants brushing against each other’s face, a soft smile tugs on the edges of your lips as you feel heat creeping up your neck.

“I love you too,” he says, as low as a whisper. “And… I’m okay if you don’t say it again. You know how I show you that I love you… and I should’ve been better at learning what you’re comfortable with in showing how you love. But I still need you to help, too, to make this… better. I need you to talk to me, when you need me. When I need you. I need you to be here for me too.”

“Okay,” you respond, volume matching his. “If that’s the case, I love you. Just… as another reminder since I only said yes the first time.”

He lets out a chuckle, vibrating from his chest and everything about him makes your heart race. “Good. Can I show you how much I love you?”

“No,” you retort quickly and bashfully. But he knows you’re playing because you nod afterwards, allowing him to carry you to the couch. “Maybe.”

“I need a yes, love,” Mingyu says cheekily, face nuzzled into the crook of your neck. “You know I’m not going to go any further until I hear it.”

“Yes,” you reply embitterly, but Mingyu knows better now. He knows what you want, because all he needed was assurance. “Please show me how much you love me.”

And fuck, because he never knew how much he needed to hear those words all his life.

You’re so pretty when he has you stripped down to nothing, laid out on the leather couch of your living room; hair messy, mouth gaped open from all his teasing, and with an arm covering your face because it’s all too much for you. Mingyu is a passionate lover, you’ve come to recognize, and although it’s all an unfamiliar territory, you love him and you’re willing to step into the unknown.

“How am I doing?” He asks, as if he doesn’t have his head in between your legs and a grip on the meat of your thighs. He loves the taste of you, he reminds you plenty of times, but dirty talk coming from such an innocent face makes you slightly embarrassed. “Feels good?”

“Shut up,” you hiss, avoiding his infatuated stare. “Just… just fucking do it, you asshole.”

“What? Show you how much I love you?”

There’s a tornado in the pit of your stomach. He keeps saying things that make you awkward because you’ve never been loved like how Mingyu loves.

You don’t react, and this displeases him. Laying his tongue flat out against your cunt, he gives you another lick that lets a whimper escape from your lips. “Tell me, baby. Am I doing a good job?”

“Yes,” you croak, only because you feel like he’s got you in this position for so long. You’re so exposed, and he at least has his boxers to protect him like a shield, but you’re all out in the open. (Not to mention his fucking built body. He makes you feel so insecure about yours—how is this puppy looking boy so… wide? What the fuck?) “Can you… can you take that off?”

He leans up, tilting his head in confusion and now you can see how hard he is in his undergarments. “My… my boxers?”

“Yeah. I feel like… I’m the only one exposed here.”

He laughs. “Baby, we’ll get to that.”

“Now.”

Mingyu snorts. “Anything my baby wants.” He bumps foreheads with you gingerly, something he's always done playfully, and tugs off his boxers swiftly as requested. “Let me make you cum first and—“

“No,” you interject, eyes closed and biting down on your bottom lip. It's the only way to remain bold—to not look him in the eye because he’ll melt you like a stick of butter left on the kitchen counter. “Show me how you love me.”

Mingyu doesn’t hesitate to shuffle quickly through the little stash hidden on the first shelf underneath your coffee table (he likes to be prepared in every situation even though this is your apartment) and finally spots the condom he hid a week ago. Tearing it open rapidly, he gives himself a couple pumps that have beads of precum building at the top and slips the rubber on with ease. “Ready?”

“For you?” Mingyu gulps, because before today, you’ve rarely said anything that made his heart stutter. “Anything.”

With a push of the head of his cock into your heat, a quiet wince escapes from your lips and his chocolate orbs are saturated in apologies. He doesn’t want you to feel pain, especially not you, but even his efforts to loosen you up beforehand, you still manage to be so tight around him every time. It feels good to have you around him snugly, yet he knows the consequence of the beginning is the ache in between your legs from the first intrusion.

“I’m sorry, bub,” Mingyu presses a tender kiss on your forehead. “Bear with me, yeah?”

“Mm,” you hum dismissively, warming up when he finally slides himself all the way in. He stills, in fear that you’re hurt, but instead, you’re surprisely impatient as you cross your legs behind him and pull him close. Bringing your lips close to his ears, you breathe, “fuck me, baby.”

Mingyu laughs brightly, and your jaw clenches. “What?”

“After today, I’m not going to fuck you.” You quirk a brow. “I’m gonna make love to you.”

“Don’t make me throw up. You’re ruining the moment.”

He grins mischievously before pulling out and shoving himself back in swiftly that earns a groan from you. “Oh? Am I?”

“Stop playing, Mingyu,” you state sternly, but Mingyu is enjoying himself too much. “Or else you're not getting any for the month.”

Well, that does the trick.

He has his hands on your hips, pushed down against the seat cushions of your loveseat couch, hips once flushed against yours now thrusting into your throbbing pussy. God, you’re fucking done for, honestly, because he’s a pro with his hips when he angles it just right that he’s brushing against your swollen clit, hitting so deep into you.

“Fuck—“

“You curse too much, baby,” Mingyu puffs, pecking the side of your lips sloppily. “Everyone thinks I’m such a nice guy and when they meet my—fuck—g-girlfriend and find out how much of a dirty mouth she has, they’re always struck.”

“Too fucking bad,” you spit, fingers digging into the skin of his shoulders. He’s so big, stretching you with each shove, but you’d never tell him that or his ego would inflate. “Stop talking and fuck me harder.”

Mingyu loves. He loves and loves, and although you won’t pretend that he comes to your home often with crumpled pieces of papers with girls’ names and numbers on them that fall into the catch-all bowl by the door with his keys, you don’t forget that besotted daze he falls into the moment he sees you. So when you ask for something, he delivers without fail.

Abiding by your urge, his hips move briskly, pistoning into you as fast as he can. Biceps tense, you can’t help but let your hands slip there, gripping onto the muscle and has you wondering fuck, how did you get so lucky? He’s hot, cute, sweet, loving and geez, he could fuck. He’s so clumsy, so dumb sometimes, but he’s so freaking lovable it makes you sick. Lovesick.

His pretty eyes shut close, you notice, because those two cups of hot chocolate are gone and he’s chewing on his bottom lip as he groans, ends of his hair that brush over his eyes now drenched in sweat. His skin glistens underneath the dim lights, and he reminds you of the stars in the night sky—so gorgeous, so special. Always a sight to see.

“Fuck,” the not-so-innocent boy curses (even though he just said you curse too much) “Baby, you just got so tight. Are you about to cum?”

“Possibly,” you manage to say, still attempting to play games even though Mingyu could very so threaten to steal your orgasm away from the tip of your fingers. But when he slightly shifts in the midst of his pounding, you let out a raspy, “Almost,” because he’s rubbing against your nub incessantly that you’re losing all your focus.

When you finally see those stars, you let go.

Mingyu feels this, grunting when you convulse around his dick, head dropping to watch you tug and tug around him, begging for him to cum. Thankfully, it doesn’t take long because after a couple thrusts, he stills, spilling ropes of cum into the condom and dropping the entirety of his weight onto you, face snug into the crook of your neck once again.

“I—“

“You’re heavy.”

“Fuck, baby, we just had sex and that’s the first thing you say?”

He can’t see you, but there’s a smile on your face. “Yeah. And you got my couch all sticky from your sweat. Not to mention the cum. Are you gonna clean it after?”

Mingyu doesn’t care. He’s blissful. He’s happy. He knows you’re going to toss a damp rag at him later, despite his dick out and still drenched in your arousal, and tell him to ‘wipe down the fucking couch because that’s gross.’

All because he knows that you love him.

#caratwritersclub #ficscafe #ficscafe dpe #mingyu smut #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #mingyu fanfic #mingyu x reader #gyukultfics #idk what to tag this i give up

[dreamerstreamer]

Love Bite

Pairing: vampire!Dream / Clay x human!gn!reader

Summary: [Vampire!AU] Despite how deadly it may appear at first glance, you love your vampire boyfriend with all your heart, so when Clay goes a bit too long without a drink, you’re more than willing to help him.

Warnings: tw// mentions of blood & general vampire shenanigans

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: requested by a lovely anon who wanted to see vampire dream! this was lots of fun to explore, and i hope you all enjoy! <3

You scroll mindlessly along your mouse, your laptop screen illuminating your dim room with a pale glow as image after image pops up on your screen. Your assignment lies long forgotten on the side of your desk, the tab still open just a single click away.

“Whatever,” you mumble quietly to yourself as you click on another link. Your gaze briefly flickers to the calendar on your wall before you shake your head. “I still have another week to work on it—it’s fine.”

Letting out a sigh, you slump over onto your desk, pressing your cheek against the cool wood as you sweep your gaze over to your balcony window. Outside, the sky is dark, the vast expanse washed with a deep, navy hue as the stars begin to peek out from the shadows and gaze down at the bustling city below. It’s a little past midnight now, and despite how late it is, the streets are just as busy as ever. You only catch a small glimpse of the crescent moon hanging among them before your gaze drops to your balcony.

Yet again, it’s empty, completely devoid of life.

The sight makes you frown, and you tear your gaze away from the sight and back to your laptop, continuing your scrolling with a sulk.

It had been a little over four days since you had last seen your boyfriend. Not that you’re counting or anything, of course. It’s just that you’ve gotten lonely without him, and you’re starting to miss him more than you’d like to admit.

Having a vampire boyfriend and being a human isn’t always the easiest, but you’re more than willing to put up with it for him. You can still remember the day he had broken the news to you, having been fully prepared to sacrifice his life right then and there for you if you chose to call for a hunter. But you hadn’t—you chose to stay, to love him.

And love him you do.

There may be times where he has to disappear for a little while that leave you cold and wanting, but the time you do spend together more than makes up for it. He’s overwhelmingly kind, honestly stubborn, and always loves to put a smile on your face, no matter how bad of a day you may have had. You can’t possibly count how many times you’ve thrown yourself into his arms with the widest grin on your face, all just to feel him laugh against you with a soft kiss behind your ear. There’s no one else in the world for you, living or undead, and you are willing to wait for him. It’s embarrassing to think about, but you really would walk to the ends of the earth just for him.

Heat creeps up your neck at the thought, and you force it down with a huff, ducking your head back down again and staring at your assignment. You distantly think of your phone sitting next to your bed and the string of messages you had sent him a few hours prior, all of which remain unopened. Kicking your legs, you whine, burying your face into your arms upon your desk.

Tonight is just not your night, it seems.

Just then, you hear it—the unmistakable sound of nails tapping on glass.

Lifting your head, you blink, slowly turning to look over at your window. Squinting for a moment, you can barely make out the shape of a familiar silhouette standing on your balcony and leaning casually against the railing. His golden hair shines beneath the moonlight, and your heart leaps into your throat.

He’s here.

In an instant, you’re scrambling out of your desk chair and across the room. Fumbling with the balcony lock, you slide open the door with a gasp, the cool night breeze brushing against your cheeks with a soft caress. In front of you, the figure shoots you a crooked grin, his eyes flashing with delight.

“Good evening, sweetheart.”

Your heart melts at the sound of his ever-soothing, familiar voice, and you return his smile with one of your own. “Good evening to you too, Clay.” Scanning him up and down once, you gesture for him to come inside as you add jokingly, “You do know you don’t always have to come in through the window, right? I do have a front door.”

His grin only widens at your words, a soft chuckle tumbling from his lips as he ducks his head to step into your room. “I have a reputation to uphold as a vampire, you know?” he hums. The glint in his eye dances with mischief. “Twilight was the one who said that windows are the way to go.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, your lips twitching with amusement. “Are you really sure you want to use Twilight as your vampire role model of all things? Why not use...” You pause for a moment, then lift a finger. “Dracula?”

A grimace skitters across his face as he pulls the balcony door shut behind him. “Dracula may have been scary, but he was also an old man and, like, super creepy. At least modern vampire fiction makes us sound less gross.” His eyes gleam devilishly. “And also hot.”

You gulp, stepping back until your hand is brushing over the soft covers of your bed. “Well,” you ask softly, “do you think they got it right? The way they portray you guys?”

His lips split into a sly grin, his teeth flashing in the starlight. “I dunno, darling,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a low whisper as he dips his head closer to yours. “You tell me.”

Your breath catches for all but a second before you’re gently pushing him away from you with a giggle. “Nice try,” you say, leaping onto your bed with a teasing grin, “but I’m not feeding your ego any more. You do that enough on your own.”

He feigns a wounded look, climbing into the space next to you with a hurt pout. “Aw, bummer. At least give me a kiss, then.”

For a second, you pretend to think about it, mulling the decision over in your head just to watch something needy spring to life in his eyes. Then, you smile, leaning in close to his face with your mouth hovering over his. “Just one.”

You only manage to see a sliver of his lovestruck smile before he presses his lips to yours, your eyelids falling shut. You can just barely feel his sharp fangs brush against the skin of your lip, and the thought makes you croon into his mouth. A certain fondness blossoms behind your ribcage, and your lungs almost feel as though they’re too tight to breathe. He’s cold against you, and when he lifts his hand to cup your cheek, you shiver at the feeling of his icy skin against yours. Everything he does sends a chill rushing down your spine, but when you part just a moment later, you already feel yourself missing his touch.

Brushing his nose over yours, you feel him inhale sharply against you, and the breath he lets out is positively trembling. “God,” he whispers into the side of your face, his voice rasping ever so slightly, “you smell so good.”

Your heart squeezes in your chest at his words, and you feel warmth blossom across your collarbones. “I’m flattered,” you say gently, reaching a hand up to press against his shoulder. Instantly, he melts into your touch as you subtly shuffle back across your bed away from him. “But you’re the one who told me I’m not allowed to let you drink from me.”

His lips part for a moment, and you catch a gleam of the moonlight flashing across his fangs. Swallowing, he runs a hand through his hair and sighs with longing. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” His eyes dart up to meet yours, his gaze swimming with a deep, drowning sense of sorrow. “You know that I’d never, ever want to hurt you, right?”

A smile tugs on your lips, sincere and true. “Of course I do,” you murmur, “and I promise you that you won’t, even if you did drink from me.”

You pause for a moment, then slowly reach a hand up to your shoulder. You don’t miss the way his eyes widen at the sight, and you almost swear you catch an inkling of crimson swirling within his viridian gaze as you lean your neck to the side. “It’s okay if you want to, alright?” you whisper, swallowing.

His eyes are glued to your neck, and you can almost see the storm that rages just beneath his skin. Your chest aches at the thought, knowing just how conflicted he must feel right now. When he doesn’t move, you drop your hand back down to the bed, your gaze focused intently on his.

“I trust you,” you say, pouring every ounce of honesty you can into your words. “Can you trust yourself?”

For a moment, he simply stares at you, his lips parted as his emerald eyes rake you up and down. They’re wide with hunger, an expression you had seen many times before over the months, but not one you had become fully acquainted with. You fidget a little under his intense gaze, and you’re just about to open your mouth again when suddenly, his hands are reaching for yours on the bed.

You gasp as he intertwines his cool fingers between your warm ones, your heart leaping for joy. You let your eyelids flutter shut as he leans forward to rest his forehead against yours, drinking in your sweet scent as your warm breath tickles his cold skin. You love the quiet moments like this, the enamoured silences that envelop the two of you in your own little bubble as the world seems to slow down. Sucking in a breath, he shudders at your touch, his hand squeezing yours.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs quietly for you and you alone to hear. “You’re too good to me.”

You smile at his words, your heart fluttering in your chest, but something uneasy sinks into the pit of your stomach at the bittersweet tone of his voice.

He didn’t answer your question, a voice whispers from the back of your head. Why didn’t he answer?

A moment later, you push the feeling away, nudging it back into the dark crevices of your mind. Instead, you choose to focus on the feeling of his skin pressing against yours, soothing and soft as you relish in the moment. The moon’s crescent frown seems to deepen from her perch in the sky, but she remains ever silent, only watching with her patient, pallid gaze.

You’re probably just imagining things.

After that night, time passes by you at an achingly slow pace. Night after night passes without a single sign of Clay, and before you even know it, a week and a half has flown past you without so much as a call. You text him as often as you can, and more often than not, you do actually get a response. Seeing the notification of his name pop up on your phone screen makes you smile until your cheeks hurt, and you’re always eager to hear back from him, but you can’t help but miss him as the hours drag on.

An empty, hollow feeling sinks into your chest as you curl up in your bed, the blankets strewn around you haphazardly as you blink over at the closed curtains draped over your balcony window. You haven’t bothered to look outside for a few nights, now—you already know that he won’t be there, as much as you want him to be. Even now, you can imagine his grinning face and teasing pokes as clear as day. The loneliness gnaws away at you as you turn onto your side, facing away from the window.

You hope he’s safe no matter what he’s up to, right now. You know better than anyone that sometimes, he can be a little too reckless for his own good.

Letting your eyes close, you sink into your pillow, a galaxy of stars whirling around your head as you slowly feel yourself drift off into a murky dream. Flashes of bright grins and the sound of wheezing laughter trickles through your thoughts, and you sigh at the endearing memories that wrap around your heart. You can almost swear you feel a pair of hands wrap around your own.

All of a sudden, something prods at the back of your ear, restless and sharp. Wincing, you blink a sleepy eye open, your bleary mind sorting through the sounds in your head before landing on one.

Glass—that’s the sound of glass.

Someone is tapping at your window.

Your eyes shoot wide open, and in a whirlwind, you’re ripping the covers off your body and pushing open your bedroom curtains. On the balcony stands a hooded figure, his golden tresses just barely peeking out from beneath the low-hanging cloth. You swallow and grab onto the door lock, slamming it open just a moment later. You shiver at the night breeze nipping at your skin, but in that moment, you couldn’t care less about the cold, your focus entirely devoted to one thing and one thing alone.

“Clay!” you cry, your eyes desperately scanning him up and down. “Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick.”

He doesn’t respond right away, and instead, his hand reaches to the side to desperately grip onto the balcony railing, his knuckles turning white. Your eyebrows furrow with concern, and slowly, you take a step toward him. You haven’t even crossed the doorway separating the inside of your room to your balcony when he suddenly barks, “Stop!”

You freeze in place, your hand halfway reaching for his when he practically crumples against the railing, curling in on himself with a choked plea. “Wait,” he gasps, clutching at his chest with a ragged breath, “please. I’m—”

“Clay?” you breathe again, this time much quieter. You shuffle closer to the window glass, your toe just barely brushing against the doorframe. “Are you okay?”

All of a sudden, a snarl rips out of his throat, guttural and beastly. You flinch at the sound for a split second, the worry in your chest only making your heart shake even more. His grip on your balcony railing grows even tighter, and you don’t doubt that it’s going to leave a mark on the metal.

“Don’t come too close,” he pants, his thighs shaking beneath him. “I—I don’t know what I’ll do.”

You purse your lips at him, frustration and confusion digging at the sides of your stomach. “Then why did you come here?”

All is quiet, and he doesn’t respond. The only sound you can properly hear is his uneven breathing as he claws at the front of his hoodie, the fabric bunching beneath his touch. You flick your gaze over him again, and a cold realization suddenly washes over you.

“Clay,” you whisper, the tiniest hint of fear seeping into your voice, “when was the last time you had a proper drink?”

You are once again met with silence, but the way he suddenly stiffens does not go unnoticed by your watchful gaze. Something curls nervously inside your gut, and your lips curl into a frown as you dig your heel into the ground.

“Clay,” you say again, a little louder this time—a little more firmly. “How long has it been?”

There is a beat of silence. Then, he whispers so softly that it’s almost swept away by the wind, “...too long.”

A pang of sorrow shoots through you, a stone dropping into the pit of your stomach. You were right. He’s thirsty. A sigh escapes your throat as you open up your arms, beckoning him toward you. “Come here,” you murmur with all the softness you can muster. “Look at me.”

He shakes his head, and it’s then that you realize you haven’t seen his face this whole time. “Take off the hood,” you say gently. His shoulders tense at your request, and you quickly add a tender, “Please.”

His throat bobs as he gulps, and ever so slowly, his hands reach up to tug at his hood until suddenly, the moonlight is casting a glowing streak of silver across his face. Your eyes go wide.

His kind, lovely eyes, which are typically viridian green and swimming with adoration for you, are now painted a deep, scarlet red, his pupils dilated beyond belief as they lock onto yours.

In all the time you’ve known he was a vampire, you’ve never seen him like this before.

But strangely enough, you’re not afraid.

Instead, you gently reach for his hand, careful to only just lightly wrap your fingers around his. His gaze drops back to the ground again, and while you know he doesn’t have a pulse, if he did, you imagine that it would be going haywire right about now. “Oh, honey,” you whisper. “It’s okay. Look at me.”

Just as you begin to lead him inside to your room does he raise his chin once more, his jaw clenched tight as he takes in your soft, enamoured expression. As he steps inside, you reach behind him to slide the door shut before tugging him back toward your bed. Settling down on the mattress with a loose breath, you let go of his hand. His arms are still shaking at his side when he sits, and it’s then that you open your mouth again.

“Clay,” you say, your voice as clear as a bell, “you can drink from me.”

His crimson eyes widen, and the look he shoots you is one of pure, unadulterated panic. “I-I can’t,” he stammers.

“Yes,” you shoot back, reaching up for the collar of your shirt, “you can.” His eyes trace down the slope of your jaw before landing on the smooth skin of your neck, exposed and waiting for him. His Adam’s apple bobs, his hands squeezing into fists beside him. “It’ll be alright.”

“H-How do you know that?” he blurts, his nails digging into his palm. “What if—what if I lose control and hurt you?” His face blanches at the sight, and he slumps over onto his lap, hanging his head in his hands. “I can’t let that happen.”

You sigh, and he clams up at the softness of the sound. “And it won’t.”

A moment passes in aching, tense silence. You resist the urge to hug him, knowing that initiating any more contact with him would only make him panic even more. “Last time I was here,” he suddenly whispers, shattering the silence with his head ducked down, “you asked me if I trust myself.”

You blink at him as he slowly raises his head, turning his gaze to look at you head-on. “I don’t, [Y/N],” he whispers. “Not one bit.”

Your eyes flash in the darkness of your room, and before you can stop yourself, your mouth opens. “But I do.”

He goes stock still before you, and suddenly, the words are flowing from your lips in a rush, unstoppable and dripping with honesty. “I know you, Clay, and I know you won’t hurt me, no matter how scared you are that you might. I believe in you, and I believe in us.” You press your hand to your chest, your fingers curling over your beating heart. “I love how much you want to make sure I’m safe, but right now, I want to make sure that you’re safe, too.”

If you were looking a little closer, you would have seen the glossy sheen in Clay’s eyes as you tip your head to the side once more, your shirt collar tugged down your shoulder. You bite on the inside of your cheek, your fingers squeezing the sheets. His crimson eyes almost look soft in the glittering starlight of the night, and you feel your chest flood with heat.

“Please,” you croon, your eyes never leaving his. “Go on.”

He eyes you for a moment longer. Then, he’s crawling across the bed toward you, his shaking hand reaching for your shoulder. Gently, he turns you toward him, his other hand cupping your cheek. Slowly, you feel his nose brush against your jaw, something cold pressing against your skin.

“Thank you, darling,” he whispers.

Then, he sinks his fangs in.

A sting shoots up your neck at the feeling, just barely there and slightly sharp, but it’s most certainly nothing you can’t handle. Heat pools around your collar bones as he drinks and drinks, and you feel your eyelids flutter shut. His lips, which are usually cool and soft when they meet yours, feel oddly warm for once, and you sigh at the sensation of your blood pumping from your skin.

You aren’t quite sure how much time passes with him cradling you against him and his mouth lapping at the side of your neck, but soon enough, you can feel a slight dizziness flit around your skull. A soft whimper escapes your lips and instantly, he breaks away from you, his eyes wide with worry as you lean against him for support. You press your forehead against his shoulder for a brief second before sitting upright once more, blinking away the vignette tinting the edges of your vision. In front of you, Clay’s lips are stained with a faint shade of red, but his eyes have returned to the brilliant shade of green you know and love. He grips onto your shoulders a tad tighter than before, his hands reassuringly rubbing against up and down against your arms.

“Oh, [Y/N],” he breathes, his eyes frantically searching your face for any sign of harm. “I-I’m sorry if I was too rough or anything. I tried to be as gentle as I could, but god, you taste so sweet and I—”

You don’t let him finish his sentence. Before he can even blink, you’re pressing your mouth to his, your tongue swiping at the seam of his lips. The uncanny warmth of his lips against yours makes your head spin more than it was before, and you feel yourself smile against him when you pull back. You can taste the slight metallic tang of your own blood on your mouth as you flash him a grin, his eyes wide with adoration as he drinks in the sight of you sitting before him.

“I’m okay, Clay,” you say with an earnest look. Tilting your head at him, your tongue darts out to swipe at the corners of your mouth. “Are you?”

His eyes never leave yours as he reaches forward to slip your hand into his, his fingers slotting between your own. “Yes,” he murmurs. “Yes, yes, yes.”

His pale skin almost seems to glow in the dim light filtering through your balcony window, and he strokes his thumb over the back of your knuckles. Something inside you suddenly unravels as he tugs you into his chest, holding you close to him as his arms wrap around your backside. You feel him rest his chin atop your shoulder, and you melt into his cool touch. Just as you let yourself let out a loving, hazy sigh against his chest, you feel him whisper into the shell of your ear.

“Would you maybe let me... have another sip?”

#request #mcyt x reader #dream smp x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #dream x reader #dream team x reader #mcyt x you #mcyt x y/n #mcyt imagines #mcyt imagine #mcyt scenario #mcyt fanfic #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt fluff #dream smp x you #dream smp x y/n #dreamwastaken x you #dreamwastaken imagine #dreamwastaken fanfic #dreamwastaken scenario #dreamwastaken fluff #dream x you #dream imagines #dream imagine #dream scenario #dream fluff #dream fanfic #dream team x you #dream team x y/n #dsmp x reader

[thewritingmagician2022]

Taylor Swift Songs (Taylor Swift) - Brothers and Dateables

Lucifer - Teardrops on My Guitar

And there he goes, so perfectly The kind of flawless I wish I could be - 'Cause he's the reason for the teardrops on my guitar The only one who's got enough of me to break my heart

This song just fits the mellow, melancholy feel that I think comes with MC developing feelings for Lucifer. He seems so beautiful and perfect, this fallen Morningstar, and he’s the only one who MC is desperate to impress. It’s an impossible task.

Mammon - I’d Lie* 

(technically not on this album but I associate it with it)

He'll never fall in love He swears, as he runs his fingers through his hair I'm laughing 'cause I hope he's wrong And I don't think it ever crossed his mind He tells a joke, I fake a smile But I know all his favorite songs

When I hear this song, I immediately go ‘Mammon’! This tsundere won’t admit that he’s completely in love with MC and he’s that person who would boast about how they’ll never fall in love and they’re happy living life with no strings attached. And he’s got his best friend there just laughing along but secretly weeping inside because they’re so in love with this idiot. 

Levi - Only Me When I’m With You

When I'm with anybody else It's so hard to be myself And only you can tell

Levi, this poor shut-in otaku, is so self-deprecating because he’s spent a lot of his life hearing about how gross and pathetic he is. Social situations make him shut down and he’d much rather be hanging out in his own room. MC is the one person who doesn’t judge him at all and is happy to just be around Levi. It means more to him than he knows how to say.

Satan - Tim McGraw

And there's a letter left on your doorstep And the first thing that you'll readIs when you think Tim McGraw I hope you think my favorite song

This song was picked mostly for its vibes rather than the lyrics. It’s so bittersweet, one of Taylor’s few break up songs that’s full of kindness and reminiscing rather than scorn, and I think that fits Satan so well. It’s like him and MC remembering all of the good times together before MC goes back to the human realm. Plus I can imagine MC writing a letter on their last night that they hid in his favorite book only for Satan to find it months later and cry over it.

Asmo - Tied Together with a Smile

I guess it's true that love was all you wanted 'Cause you're givin' it away like it's extra change - You're tied together with a smile But you're coming undone, oh

Sweet Asmo, Avatar of Lust. I headcanon that, despite Asmo’s raging narcissism, he’s someone who doubts himself in secret. He gives all of this love to his friends and family and especially to MC because he just wants to have that feeling returned. He wants to be loved, not lusted after, to know that he’s worth more than just his beauty.

Beel - Mary’s Song

Said you'd beat me up, you were bigger than me You never did, you never did Take me back when our world was one block wide I dared you to kiss me and ran when you tried

Beel’s gentle, quiet personality matches the wholesomeness of this song. It’s a sweet love song that covers a lifetime of falling love and Beel really just feels like husband material. Every time I hear “beat me up” I think of Beel threatening to eat MC thought he never really would. 

Belphie - Cold as You

You never did give a damn thing, honey But I cried, cried for you And I know you wouldn't have told nobody if I died, died for you

We all know why this song belongs to Belphie - or at least chapter 16 Belphie. MC literally did die to help him and, at first, he couldn’t care less about her despite her spending all these months trying to put his family back together. MC was just a mess of dreamer with the nerve to adore him. Same, MC. I knew it was coming and still simped.

Diavolo - Stay Beautiful

If you and I are a story That never gets told If what you are is a daydream I'll never get to hold, at least you'll know You're beautiful Every little piece, love; don't you know? You're really gonna be someone 

Diavolo is less of a potential mate and more of a daydream for MC. This is less of a sad, unrequited love song and more of a sweet little love-note to a crush. I think MC really just wants to see Dia succeed, whether she can be there by his side to witness it or not, and she wants him to know that even when he doubts himself, she has faith in him. After all, he’s the one trying to bring together all three realms and the one who cheered her on during her stay at Devildom. 

Barbatos - Invisible

She's never gonna love you like I want to And you just see right through me but if you only knew me We could be a beautiful, miracle, unbelievable Instead of just invisible

We barely get to see Barbatos on his own, which is a shame, and I think this song reflects how MC can easily look right past him when any of the others are around. But Barbatos can see the other timelines and he knows that if MC just gave him the chance, he could make them so happy . 

Solomon - Place in the this World

And I'm wearing my heart on my sleeve Feeling lucky today, got the sunshine Could you tell me what more do I need? And tomorrow's just a mystery, oh yeah But that's okay

This one was tough because Solomon is arguably the character I understand the least but I think this song fits him best because he’s lived for so long and is still arguably figuring out his own place in this ever changing world and MC is just so happy to be along for the ride. 

Simeon - Our Song

Our song is the way he laughs The first date; "Man, I didn't kiss him, and I should have" And when I got home, 'fore I said "Amen" Askin' God if he could play it again

It’s just too cute. Hanging out with Simeon and being so heart-eyed but too nervous to actually make a move because he’s literally an angel so every time MC gets back to the HoL, they’re just like “!!! I should’ve kissed him!” and they lay in bed and keep thinking about how great being with Simeon always is and how much they adore him. 

#obey me headcanons #obey me #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #taylor swift

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Crimson Ties (Bela Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 2

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village

Rating: T for language and mild medical drama

Warnings: Typical Vampire shenanigans

Genre: Hurt + comfort

Summary: Bela is somewhat unprepared to deal with a soulmate who has no clue about her condition, her family, or any of the village's secrets. Thankfully, her sister Cassandra is more than willing to be a bad example. Also there's some fluff.

Notes: For reference, each of my soulmate stories take place in their own contained timeline, since they each involve different types of soulmates. So in this one, Cass doesn't currently have a soulmate.

Previous Chapters: 1: Stem the Flow

2: Tangled Strands

A gentle humming fills the space around you, as fingers slowly run through your hair. As far as you can tell you had fallen back asleep, for several hours, and you were just now waking back up. No longer holding you down, your soulmate is curled up next to you. There’s still a needle in your arm, much to your irritation, but now you can finally see what it’s connected to: An IV for a transfusion. Explains why I’m feeling so much better than before, you think. Then you’re turning your head to the other side, eager to finally get a good look at your soulmate. Instantly you’re blushing, tongue tying itself into a knot, because wow are you lucky.

“Feeling any better?” She asked, as soon as your gaze met hers. You try to stutter out a confirmation, but you’re too distracted by the soft curve of her smile to speak, and barely even manage a nod. That beautiful smile grows wider in response. “Good. I couldn’t stand the thought of you suffering more, after what you’ve already been through.” Now her smile fades, and she looks away for a few moments. Watching it makes your heart ache. So you swallow the lump in your throat, willing yourself to relax, before trying a little comforting of your own.

“I am safe now, am I not? Moreso, we have too much to talk about for us to dwell on the ill circumstances of our introduction. Let us cherish this time, in respite, with our hearts open wide to one another,” you said, donning your softest smile. Somehow your words fulfill their purpose, and your soulmate is once again grinning. Slowly she leans forward to rest her forehead against yours. Then she’s speaking, voice as smooth as the sheets you lay on.

“You are right, of course. I simply wish I could have saved you sooner,” she replied, tone betraying the sadness that her expression otherwise hid. Before you can protest, she continues talking, and you soon forget all about your qualms. “To think I don’t even know your name yet… nor you mine, I suppose. Let’s remedy that, yes? I am Bela Dimitrescu.” Something about her last name feels familiar to you, but not to the point of clear recognition. Instead of inquiring, you return her favor, giving her your own name. She repeats it back a few times, letting the syllables roll off her tongue, and you feel your heart skip a few beats. “A lovely name for a lovely soul, perfectly paired.”

A pause, followed by Bela reaching out to examine your IV. Following her gaze, you turn to the metal hook adjacent to the bed, where a blood bag hangs. Only a few drops remain inside. Just as when you first awoke, Bela gives a soft hum, then rises into a sitting position. Your first instinct is to copy the motion, and you’re relieved when (this time) she doesn’t push you back down. Both of you quietly inch your hands closer until they’re laid on top of each other.

“I wish I knew more about medicine, but unfortunately my family is more experienced in the creation of wounds than the treatment of them,” Bela said, scowling. Confused, you tilt your head at a slight angle, watching her with interest. Am I supposed to know who she’s referring to? My memories of the past couple days are still hazy, you think. “Do… do you remember how you ended up in the dungeon? I know you wanted to speak of happier things, and we can, soon. It’s just… Knowing how you arrived here may help me deal with the consequences of freeing you. Mother will be dreadfully upset that I’ve interrupted a draining, even if we are soulmates.”

“Wait, are you saying…? The intimidating giantess who strung me up and attempted to bleed me dry… is your mother?” You asked, jaw nearly dropping to the floor. This was an unexpected development, for sure.

“You didn’t know?” Bela replied, eyes going wide for a moment. Clearly she wouldn’t have said anything if she realized you weren’t already aware. Suddenly the tension in the room is palpable, with an uncomfortable silence overtaking the two of you. In the moment, you cannot even bring yourself to look at Bela, too stunned by this new knowledge. Eventually she breaks the silence, voice sounding unsure for once. “I realize that this is a lot to take in, if you need time to process it, I… I can go. But you need to understand that our situation is far more complicated than it might appear. We cannot survive without the blood of others- it is what sustains us when nothing else can.”

Now you’re staring at her like she’s crazy, and she’s standing up, moving to the other side of the room. She draws back a curtain, gazing out into the snow covered hills. Every muscle in your body is urging you to run while she’s distracted. Thread of fate be damned, this went far beyond anything you had ever imagined having to deal with. You come so close to ripping the IV right out of your arm. But a gentle tug on your soul string makes you pause, remembering all the times this bond gave you hope in dark times. Had she felt the same way, all these years? What had she gone through, in this absurd castle, on the very edges of civilization? You pull on the red thread, feeling a wave of composure wash over you.

“It appears there is much I need to learn. But is that not the very nature of our connection? We know, simply, that we are bound to each other, though we know not what shapes our souls take so that we might put them together, nor even what roles we must play. I cannot say that I understand your plight, my dear, but I will try, as is my obligation, and my honor,” you said, wishing you could hold her, and cursing your IV. As soon as the first word leaves your mouth, Bela is turning around, watching you with a bittersweet expression. Once you’re done she’s moving closer, as if reading your mind, extending a hand to cup your cheek. Then she leans forward to press a brief kiss to your forehead. “Oh, how I have longed for this- to be with you, to get to know you.”

“As did I,” she murmured. You can’t help but lean into her touch, closing your eyes and enjoying the moment. “Perhaps I should introduce you to my family? I imagine you’ll be needing breakfast anyway, and bringing human food back to my quarters would raise more suspicion than I’d like.” Well, the moment couldn’t last forever, could it?

“Only if you promise that your mother won’t suspend me by my wrists again. Or by any other part of me. Shall we simply put suspension off the table altogether?” You asked, half teasing. To be entirely honest, you were equally worried about Bela’s sisters. Well, the people you had heard other prisoners whispering about, who were the daughters of the giantess, and by connecting a few dots were also, presumably, Bela’s sisters. Apparently they preferred to play with their food. Unless, of course, Bela was one of the daughters you had heard about, and would have easily torn into you if not for your connection. Let’s not dwell on that concept, you think, glad to be distracted by your soulmate.

“I will not let anyone harm you anymore, my beloved. My mother would not stand so firmly in the way of my happiness,” Bela reassured, though you detected a hint of uncertainty in her tone. Still, there wasn’t much you could do other than trust her. “Now, let me take care of your bandages, then we’ll head downstairs…”

---------------------------------

“Who the fuck is this?” An unfamiliar voice asked, as you meandered down the corridor, arm around Bela for support. As soon as she hears the person speak, your soulmate is freezing in place, casting a worried glance over her shoulder. When you turn as well, you spot someone dressed almost identically to Bela. However, the woman wears a yellow pendant, as opposed to a red one, and her hair is a dark brown. It feels safe to assume that she’s one of the sisters you’ve heard about. Which understandably makes you nervous, to the point where you almost want to hide behind Bela. Instead, you stand tall, attempting to seem unfazed by either her presence or her vulgarity.

“Mind your manners, Cassandra,” Bela hissed, taking more of an aggressive stance than you had anticipated. “This, dear sister, is my soulmate. And if you even think about harming them, or getting in our way, I will tear you apart.” While you’re downright shocked at the intensity of Bela’s statement, her sister doesn’t look at all impressed, and eyes you with minimal interest. Better than looking at you with hatred, right? Apparently not, as Bela moves to stand between the two of you, eyes narrowed. There’s a clear stiffness in her posture that leaves you anxious. Cassandra seems to notice it as well, and laughs, before taking a few steps in your direction. Then your soulmate mimics the movement, forcing you to do so as well.

“They’re human,” Cassandra snapped, pausing to sniff the air and scowl. “Here I thought your soulmate would have to be special, if they’re to compare to your ego. You’re disappointed, aren’t you? Having to settle for this.” With that she shifts, flesh writhing, making your stomach churn as you watch her disintegrate into a cloud of… flies? What the hell is wrong with this family? Can Bela do that too? I hope not, you think. Soon you’re pulled from your thoughts, however, as the swarm circles around you, single insects occasionally surging forward to cut at your skin. But Bela is grabbing you by the sleeve and tugging you to her chest, moving against a wall so that her body shielded your own. Your eyes clamp shut as you shake in her arms. When the buzzing stops, it is quickly replaced with cruel laughter. “That fragile, hmm? I can’t wait to see what mother thinks. See you at breakfast, sister!”

Then the two of you are alone, still pressed against the wall, staying still until the sound of footsteps fade. You’re stunned, unsure of how to react. The fact that a few drops of blood roll down your cheek only makes things worse. Still, Bela managed to prevent you from getting too hurt, and the few wounds on your body are negligible. Ever filled with gratitude, you hold her close as you try to stutter out a few sentences.

“Is she always this hostile, or am I truly not what you had expected? No, pay me no mind, it hardly matters. Thank you for protecting me,” you whispered. In response, Bela gives you a little squeeze, then pulls back enough to wipe the blood from your face. There’s a hint of something odd in her expression, which you interpret to be related to her apparent ‘need for blood’. Thankfully, she is in perfect control, and does not frenzy the same way you had read about fictional vampires doing. But she does hesitate, words dying on her tongue, like there are a thousand things she wants to say, and no words to say them with. “It’s alright, my dear. Let’s just go to breakfast, like we planned, and hope your sister behaves better when supervised.”

Bela nods, quickly, before taking your hand in her own. Whatever awaited you in the dining room, the two of you would be ready. Hopefully.

#babe why aren't you this nice to ME #bela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu x reader #resident evil: village #re8 village #soulmate au #imagine bela's soulmate meeting cassandra's #they'd be very unlikely friends #cassandra would HATE how well behaved her soulmate would be #like #tumblr keeps rearranging the order of my tags??? #I'll fix that later