#but it is his version of the call of the abyss

[authorafterhours]

When Will is at his lowest darkest place, does a small part of him contemplate the allure of a lobotomy? He is horrified at the idea, of course. To lose himself so completely, to more than likely be reduced to a vegetative state, but at least his mind would go quiet.

He has mixed feelings about Florence and how Hannibal had planned on eating his brain.

It doesn't happen often, but the idea lingers like a bad odor when they do come. He hates that he has these thoughts, intrusive as they are, but the more time he spends with Hannibal, they visit less and less.

[loderlied]

having completely normal thoughts (gortash wotr au)

[wttcsms]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪ now he's thinkin' 'bout me every night !!

ᝰ.ᐟ there’s nothing nagi values more than getting his rest, but thoughts of you have been keeping him wide awake at night. someone has to help him get rid of all this annoying restless energy — and it has to be you, the whole entire reason why his sleeping schedule is fucked. ( fem!reader )

pairing seishiro nagi x reader word count 2.4k content contains jealousy (nagi is being a baby abt how chigiri has your attention)/jealous sex, soft yandere!nagi, possessive sex, biting/marking kinktober masterlist

Evil. 

That’s what you are. Nagi is convinced that you are the fucking devil, someone sent from the abyss to ruin his life and destroy his ego. 

Maybe that’s a harsh judgment to make — he doesn’t mean it; not really, anyway. But there is something about you that chips away at his nonchalance. Seishiro Nagi doesn’t care about a lot of things. He can’t be bothered to. He thought that after soccer found its way into whatever void is inside of him, he’d be fulfilled. That that was it — he found his purpose, he found his driving force, and now he can enter society as a functioning human being with actual hopes and dreams. 

He never realized that he had the capacity to care about anything else, and then you arrive on the field one day, camera in one hand, a bright smile plastered on your face as you’re being introduced as the new social media manager for Manshine City. 

And suddenly, Nagi realizes that not only does he have the capacity, he’s actually emptier than he thought. 

You had been receptive to his awkward, fumbling advances. For as attractive and cool he appears on the outside, Nagi’s never bothered to actually approach any girls before. Never really felt the need to. You had taken all his accidental rude comments in stride, and you harbored the same interests as him, and he finally has you now. 

He has you, and no one else can call you theirs, and yet here he is, on a Friday night, sulking in bed instead of getting his precious rest time. 

He’s frowning, looking up at his ceiling as he thinks about what had happened earlier today. 

There’s really no need for a dress code. The coaches are all decked out in athleisure, the athletes themselves are wearing practice jerseys, and since you’re expected to be constantly on the move and chasing after these athletes, trying to get good footage and spend the whole day with ‘em, Nagi can’t necessarily fault you for wanting to be comfortable. You’re wearing a cropped version of the Define Jacket with leggings that hug you in just the right way, and Nagi swears that he isn’t a jealous person.

He thinks being envious is a crude waste of his energy, energy that he can’t bother to exert, and he’s never really experienced jealousy before. 

Maybe that’s why he’s awake at midnight despite the fact that he has an early morning practice scheduled. A practice that you’ll be attending, once again. He frowns as he tosses and turns in his bed, trying to shut his eyes, but every time they’re closed, he keeps seeing you. 

More accurately, you and Chigiri. 

Just the thought of his teammate is enough to make a scowl appear on his face. 

You’re filming content for a TikTok, and Nagi can’t help but childishly pout when he asks himself why does the TikTok need to star Chigiri and Chigiri alone? It’s not like he’s the only member on the team, you know! You spent the whole day laughing at whatever Chigiri had to say, and Nagi knows that it sounds terrible, but he doubts his teammate is that hilarious. And the way you kept following him around, barely paying any attention to the other players, including your own boyfriend, wasn’t even Nagi’s breaking point. No — what his breaking point happened to be was the way your figure-flattering outfit was just too tantalizing. 

You’re so focused on Chigiri, with your back turned to everyone else, that Nagi gets quite a view every time you’re bending down to get a different angle. Even just the memory alone is enough to get him hard. 

Fuck. Now he’s sporting a semi, he’s still seething with jealousy with the memory of you all over Chigiri still constantly playing on a loop in his mind, and worst of all: you’re not here with him. Your laptop is in your apartment, and you had kissed him goodbye after practice because you needed to edit the footage you captured today, and so you can’t spend the night with him like you usually do. 

When thirty minutes go by, and he’s still wide awake, jealous, and hard, Nagi rolls over and groans in his pillow. The minute he gets his hands on, he’s intent on making sure you can’t walk. You won’t be able to chase after Chigiri, that’s for damn sure. 

Things don’t necessarily go according to Nagi’s grand plan. Sure, you’re laying in bed with him, wearing just his shirt and a pair of panties, but you barely paid any attention to him. He’s been pretending to be occupied with his Switch, but he keeps glancing over at you. 

You’re on your phone, eyebrows furrowed as you meticulously go through the footage for a video you plan on uploading. Nagi scowls when he catches a familiar glimpse of red hair moving on the screen. You’re still editing videos of him? Seriously? 

“I thought you weren’t working today,” he mumbles, tossing aside the Switch. You don’t even look up from your phone.

“I know. I’m sorry, baby, but Hyoma asked if there’s anything he can improve on for the next promo vid we’re shooting, and I want to at least find something to comment on so he knows I’m taking him seriously.” Chigiri is surprisingly a perfectionist when it comes to videos of himself. He’s been constantly asking you if you’re sure he doesn’t look too nervous or too stiff on camera, and honestly, his worrying is a bit endearing. 

Hyoma — since when were you on a first name basis with his teammate?

This is what sets him off. This is his breaking point.

Sometimes, with how sloth-like Nagi acts, it’s easy to forget that he’s a bonafide professional athlete. A genius, even. He’s quick to pounce on you, tossing your phone somewhere on his massive bed while pinning your body down with his own. With no pesky phone in the way, the only person to give your undivided attention to is him. That’s exactly how it should be. 

“Sei— Ah!” You can’t help but let out a surprised gasp as you feel Nagi nip the soft skin of your neck, teeth grazing you. Not hard enough to leave a mark (he’ll save that for later, for when you’re too drunk on his cock to protest), but sharp enough for you to feel it, to feel the pressure and the intent and the promise behind a love bite. 

“You’re supposed to be my girlfriend.” Nagi grumbles, his head still buried in the crook of your neck. 

“I am, Seishiro.” You run a hand through the white strands of your boyfriend’s hair. It’s just as soft as it looks, and he leans into your touch, seemingly content. You didn’t realize just how neglected poor Nagi was feeling, and you wonder if it’s possible if he’s jealous. But that can’t be it — Nagi’s never been jealous a day in his life. He doesn’t even react when he catches guys flirting with you in public because he’s so confident in his relationship with you. 

You think he just wants to rest like this, but then you feel his lips dragging down the expanse of your neck. He sucks on your collarbone for a second, and returns back to your neck, sucking and biting, and all you can do is tangle your fingers into his hair, letting out little whimpers and gasps. 

“Sei, baby, you— you’re gonna leave marks.” 

He lifts his head up momentarily, staring up at you with a dark fog in his gray eyes that you normally don’t see. Underneath that haze of desire, though, lies something sharper in the gleam of his eyes. 

“That’s the point.” 

And then he does bite down on the fragile flesh of your neck. And you just lay there, allowing him to. 

Nagi wastes no time in using one hand to rub against your thigh, squeezing at the plushness of it before traveling further to slide your cotton panties to the side. When his thick fingers brush against your folds, he can’t hold back a smile as he finds you already wet. 

You’re embarrassed, heat rising to your cheeks when Nagi holds up his hand so you can see the way your essence is glistening on his middle and ring fingers. “You’re this wet, and I haven’t even kissed you yet.” His tone is half-teasing, half-in awe. He maintains eye contact with you, and you watch him stick his fingers in his mouth, obscenely sucking on his digits, groaning as the taste of you hits his tongue. 

And when he’s done, he finally does kiss you properly. 

You think you can taste a hint of yourself on him, and it only makes you feel even hotter. You’re subconsciously thrusting your hips upwards, trying to get any sort of friction from him. 

“Mm, ah, Sei—”

“Shh.” Nagi hushes you, pressing another kiss against your lips, swallowing up your would-be pleading and begging for something, anything — his fingers, his tongue, his cock, something to ease the heat building inside of you. “Gonna make my baby feel so good.” He rubs at your slit through the slickness of your panties, teasing you as he allows the thin fabric to act as the only barrier between his ring finger and your wet heat. You’re already soaking through the cotton.

He’s been fucking pent up since last night, finding no relief, and now that he has you pinned down on his bed, wet and whining for him, he figures you won’t mind if he rushes into things. He has plenty of stamina, anyway. He can go all night if you want him to.

You mewl out his name pathetically when he slides your panties to the side once more, only instead of his fingers toying with you, it’s the tip of his cock that you feel prodding the entrance of your cunt. 

“You feel that?” He gasps out, having to take a few breaths as he adjusts to the snugness and heat of your cunt. He’s slowly pressing forward, making himself at home inside of your pussy, slowly but surely. “That’s—” Just a few more inches ‘til he’s bottoming out. “—the only dick that’s ever gonna be inside of your pussy.” He’s pressed as deeply as possible, his entire length buried inside of you. 

He’s close, so close to you, and all you can do is whimper as you adjust to his size. Nagi’s cock isn’t just long, but thick. Even with your slick-soaked hole helping ease him in, it’s still a bit of a pain to take him all the way. 

“Say it.” His voice goes a bit deeper than his normal easy-going cadence. When you look into your boyfriend’s eyes, you see it once more: the pussydrunk, lustful haze clouding his vision, and the dark, sharp look that is the driving force behind why your boyfriend impatiently started burying his cock inside of you as soon as he could. “C’mon, tell me.” 

The thrusts he’s giving you right now are only shallow; an inch or two being pulled out, only to lightly be shoved back in. It’s almost as if he’s testing the waters, but you can hear the edge in his tone. He’s growing impatient once more, but he refuses to fuck you boneless unless you tell him what he wants to hear. 

Fortunately, it’s the truth. It’s the truth when you whine out, “This pussy is a-all yours, Seishiro.” 

“Yeah?” He’s pulling out slowly, licking his lips as he watches how submissive he can get you to be. He’ll start with a slower pace, he decides. Treat his girl to a couple of easy orgasms before he starts showcasing his true strength. 

At least, that was his plan. Then, your phone notifies you of a text message.

He stills, eyes glancing, squinting at your screen. 

It’s a text. 

From Chigiri. 

Nagi focuses his attention back on you, but inside his mind, all he sees is the notification with his teammate’s name on it. Your eyes are wide, as if you know what he just saw, but before you can explain yourself, Nagi abruptly slams back into you.

The pace he sets is brutal. He has one hand gripping the headboard to steady himself, his other is angrily tightened around your hip, sure to leave a bruise he’ll kiss all better later. 

“Fuck.” He practically snarls, never relenting. All you can do is let out a string of moans as his cock continues to pound your pussy. There’s another chime from your phone, another notification from Chigiri. He’s asking if the video looks okay. 

You don’t have work on the brain. The only thing your mind is capable of processing are the sensations that Nagi is serving up to you on a silver platter. Even with his brutal pace and hard thrusts, he finds enough kindness inside of him to move his hand from your hip and instead grind his palm against your clit. The callouses all over his hand only add to the pleasure, and you find yourself sobbing out his name as you feel the familiar, overwhelming need to cum. 

“You gonna cum?” Nagi grunts out, as if he doesn't already know. He can tell, y’know. He can tell, because your walls are clamping down on his dick so tightly, it’s a struggle to pull out because you’re clinging to him. He can tell, because you’ve got your adorable little fucked-out expression on your face. Drool on your lips, a string of incoherent pleading and broken mewls of his name. His name. Yeah, you better be moaning his name, and his only.

“Mm, Seishiro!” You squeal out, tightening even more against his cock. Your clit is so sensitive, so receptive to his touch, paired with the nonstop thrusting of his dick, you can’t help but cream all over him. 

“Fu-ck.” The swear comes out in broken syllables as Nagi feels you cumming on his cock. He looks away from your face to look at the messy scene between your legs. Your panties are still pushed to the side, the fabric wet from your juices, and when he pulls out a bit, he sees a nice, white ring around his girth. 

You’re still whimpering, eyes closed shut as you try to regain your breath, but Nagi isn’t done just yet. He still hasn’t cum.

When he hears another text message notification, certainly from Chigiri once again, Nagi knows that you’re in for a long night. He won’t stop even after he cums. 

No — for every text message you get from his teammate, that’s another orgasm he’ll just have to wring out of you.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

What if MC was sent to an alternate dimension somehow and that dimension contained all 7 overblots who woke up there after they were defeated in main story. How would they react to the magicless prefect who managed to defeat them suddenly showing up out of nowhere?

Overblot Universe | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

Imagine a trip through the mirror portal gone wrong

Ending up in this other place where it looks like an ink covered version of Night Raven

Reminding you of your dear friends’ overblots 

You hesitate to call out for help of any kind

Instead your greeted immediately by an army of ink blotted students marching towards you quickly

A single soldier steps to the front bearing a gaudy but familiar collar 

“The Queen of Hearts demands you return to his side at once!” 

Before you can say anything, another voice rings out

���Our Sultan demands the magicless one.”

This one has a smaller group but they are much more heavily armed

It leads to a brawl which you are uncomfortably at the center of

Escaping from the warring factions, you make your way to the school’s mirror room

Barely able to step on the premises you’re stopped by a small patch of sand sucking you into the ground

The only one you can think that’d use this is–

“Thought I smelled a troublesome herbivore.”

It’s Leona in all his overblotted glory

Snickering with a fanged smile he grabs you by the arm

Easily yanking you out of the sand and holding you against his chest

Still standing above the quicksand you hold on tight

You’re surprised when he almost lovingly rubs his cheeks against your own trailing down your neck with his nose

Then without warning he takes a deep bite into the crook of your neck

Holding you still as you try to shove him away

When he pulls back with blood on his smile, you can only look at him with betrayal

“What? You think I’d be gentle after you chased me away? Not this time sweet heart.”

He tosses you over his shoulder as he walks further away from the building you want to go 

Taking you to an inky territory that looks as though Savvannaclaw turned into some rocky mound in the dessert

With too much ease he tosses you into a scratchy pile of sand 

He plops down practically on top of you

“Ow! This is really uncomfy how do you sleep on this?!”

“Don’t whine. Now that you’re here it’ll be a lot softer.”

Too fast and so familiar to your Leona he falls asleep

Anytime you move a centimeter the sand whips angrily around keeping you in his vicinity

But it seems the only time it didn’t react was when a drone with a bucket of water dunked on the sand rising to swat at it

The damp sand could only bubble slowly as the drone came closer to you shooting some small metal thing on your reaching hand

“NO!--” 

The ugly snarl from the overblotted Leona dissipates as a flash of blue and black transports you someplace else

“There they are brother! You’re player 2! I told you they’d be here for the special day!”

You want to voice your confusion as you blink your blurry sight into something sharp

But something's over your mouth

And your hands and your legs

Looking around you are in what looks like a cave lined with wires and technology baring an uncanny resemblance to a friend of yours

“You were right all along brother! Let’s prepare for the final act!” 

It’s an overblotted Idia taking a heavy looking crown from the claws of some nearby machinery

Stopping to admire you, his cold clawed hands run along your face as if checking if your real

Before placing the crown on your head

The minute the device is settled how he likes it tightens on your head

Bringing a numbing pain to the sides of your skull as you desperately try to wiggle free

Nothing you do stops the inky creation that looks like Ortho manipulate your binds to stand you upright

Bringing you to an alter, it’s there you notice the swirling abyss just pass the electronic officiant

“Now say your vows, my fruit.”

“Of course my precious future husband, master of the underworld and overworld. For years–”

It’s your voice but not 

With a tinge of automation your voice chimes happily from the restraint over your mouth

At your not–real—vows Idia seems to giggle causing the abyss to widen and the suction intensify

Eventually ‘your vows’ end and Idia claims he’s going to skip his

Letting his robotic officiant carry through like a typical ceremony

Until it gets to that part

“I’d be wrong not to speak my peace when both parties so clearly have withstanding debts with me.”

Part 2

[parfaitblogs]

never grow up ❀ s. reid x reader

in which you are at the age you never thought you'd live to. 

genre: hurt/comfort + fluff! tags: established relationship. (very brief) mentions of r not eating. depression. non sexual nudity. mention of a past suicide attempt. reader is codependent on spencer #anxiousattachment!! mini argument not really because he loves you a lot!!! please know your triggers ♡  word count: 2.2k a/n: this was a vent write. LOL! i think i switch tenses a lot in this? i tried to fix it. this is why we don't write fanfiction while we're crying!!! i love u i love u i love u and i am so so glad you are the age that you are!! continue to grow please!! life will become beautiful!!!

Depression is a funny thing.

Sometimes you are forgetting there has ever been a version of you out there that fantasised about death and longed for an escape from this world you deemed so cruel, so invasive. Other times, you are sat naked on the cold floor of your bathroom rocking back and forth, clawing at your skin and ripping hair out of your scalp because you are sobbing so ferociously. The world spinning around you and your cries, so violent, are making you lightheaded and you wonder if you pass out here if anyone will ever find you. 

Clearly, tonight, you are the latter.

It started as a small pit in your stomach that morning, that you braved through and ignored to the best of your ability, even as you said gentle 'no thank you's' to food offered by your co-workers and forced your brain to focus on work and not the never-ending abyss of dread in your abdomen. Then, it became a tear or two on your way home, that you vehemently wiped away and pretended was never there because it couldn't be. 

Then you were showering to get your mind off things — a stupid decision, really. For your brain was latching on to every awful emotion it had felt thus far today, and you were stepping out of the shower with an even heavier heart, and your hands were wrapping around your now goosebump riddled body, as you were sinking to the floor in a ball.

And maybe hours passed by you. Maybe days — it certainly felt that way. Maybe it was only a mere five minutes. But your loud sobs felt like they took an achingly long time to slow and quiet down, until they were falling into ugly sniffles of the snot on your face, and a raging headache behind your eyes. 

Loud sobs — scream sobs, really — had a lot of disadvantages. The aftermath feeling of embarrassment of screaming at your brain that refused to simply shut up, the scratch at your throat from every sound you ripped from it. The audio block it gave you from the rest of the world. For you truly were in your own universe when you were howling alone in the comfort of your bathroom walls.

So much so, that the familiar sound of a door opening and closing, and a bag being placed down by the side of it, went entirely unnoticed to you. Footsteps against your apartment's wooden flooring weren't picked up, nor were the first two knocks on your bathroom door. By the third, you were blubbering through saliva and snot, and you had heard it. Followed by a very gentle calling of your name, that had your heart clenching within your chest for a new reason. 

He had said he was coming home tomorrow. Which almost always meant he wouldn't be home for another three days, and so, in your mind, you thought bawling that night could be a secret kept between you and your tiles. 

Apparently not. 

He called your name again when you didn't reply, an added hint of desperation in his voice. Trembling, you stood, your limbs feeling as though they were creaking while you straightened them out. And you didn't bother about the towel sitting in a crumpled heap on the floor, nor the pile of your clean clothes sitting on the countertop. In fact, you didn't bother about anything as a shaking hand twisted the doorknob and pulled it open.

In an instant, his worried frown deepened, and eyes that might usually drink in the sight of your naked body beautifully, now didn't wander further than the scarlet scratch marks along your neck — blood vessels risen to the surface from how fragile that part of you was. He exhaled, and took a hesitating step towards you. One you welcomed by remaining planted in your spot — you didn't know if you could move, though. 

"Can I ask what's wrong, or do you simply want a hug?" 

Both, you wanted to say. Both, but also neither. 

You didn’t say that. Instead, you said, "Hug."

He hardly took a second to register what you'd said before his arms were wrapping around you. If he found the slightly damp state of your skin annoying, he didn't comment on it. He didn't say much at all, as he enveloped you into his body, a hand securing itself on the back of your head, and his chin resting atop your head. 

Water dripped uncomfortably to the floor, splattering on the tiles and his shoes, being the only sound aside from your irregular hiccups and sniffles. His button-up was wet from your tears and your body, and you could almost hear his complaints about it, if this were any other day. 

Minutes passed, and even though you didn't want to, you pulled back, feeling his hands slip around to your waist and hold you benevolently. Your own hands reached up to your face to wipe away tears, an embarrassed laugh escaping your lips. 

"This is pathetic," you said, fingers digging into the corners of your stinging eyes. 

"How?" he asked you.

"I didn't think you'd be home to see me having a mental breakdown."

A smile that didn't quite reach his eyes appeared on his lips. "Well, I am." Fingers squeezed your waist reassuringly. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

You shrugged, wordlessly, your eyes dropping from his face to the damp spot on his chest from where your face had once been, heart stuttering. 

"We don't have to, honey," he said. "But it might help."

"I know it might," you muttered. 

He was silent, as were you. A few more beats passed between you two, before you were turning around to pick up clothes you had left for yourself on the counter. You didn't really feel any different under his watchful gaze as you dressed yourself. Accustomed to the act, or simply too overwhelmed with another emotion, you didn't know. 

He followed you into the living room when you walked out there, and he sat down next to you on the couch you curled up on. You opened and closed your mouth a few times, and he lifted his head on each intake of breath you had, as if about to say something. But you never did. 

So, he took over.

"Did something happen today?" You shook your head, and he nodded his own. "Okay. This past week?" You shook your head again, because other than missing him while he had been stuck in Texas for a case, nothing had actually happened. 

You wished it had. Truly, you wished you had experienced a murder on your way to work, or a distant family member had passed away so you could blame this feeling on something other than memories simply resurfacing. 

You sniffled again. "You know," you began, voice thick and wobbly from the lump lodged in your throat. "When I was fourteen, I didn't think I'd ever be this old."

Your gaze lifted from your lap to look at him, and you let a helpless tear fall from one of your eyes when you locked eyes with him. He was confused, unsurprisingly so.

So, you continued. "I tried to kill myself. When I was fourteen."

He readjusted his posture, eyebrows falling into a more concerned state, and he was silent for so long you wondered if this was when he decided you were too much and too complicated for him to deal with. 

He didn't. "I didn't know," he said, instead. 

"I don't exactly advertise it," you replied, and even if it was an attempt at being light hearted, it fell flat. "I just realised I never thought I'd be this age," you continued when he hardly reacted, "and I've been really anxious and down all week, so I think that realisation kind of sent me over the edge."

"Are you happy you're at this age?" 

Hesitantly, but surely, you nodded your head. "I got to meet you."

His lips twitched, but a smile never crossed his face. "You should be happy for reasons more than just me."

"You are my reason for being happy," you argued. 

"And I'm glad to hear I make you happy, but I cannot be your only reason."

"Why not?"

"Because that's dependency." 

You short-circuited, and he sighed upon realising the way you were taking his words — maybe not the smartest thing he could've said to his still tear-stricken-faced girlfriend. 

"What I mean is you should have other areas in your life that make you happy. Not just me."

"I like my job," you mumbled, gaze relocating to your lap. "And my friends."

"Great," he said, and you could feel his weight shifting on the couch as he nudged closer to you. "As long as I'm not your reason for living."

Your eyebrows furrowed. "You've been my reason for living since we started dating. Why is it different now?"

"I didn't know I was your reason for living until now."

"So if you are, then what? You leave me?" 

"No," his response was so immediate you were sure you could feel the whiplash, and he ran a hand down his face with an exasperated sigh. "I don't want to fight with you when you're like this."

"I don't want to fight with you either," you agreed, fidgeting with your fingers in your lap. "I'm sorry I'm co-dependent."

He didn't respond for a while, mulling everything you two had shared and now, your apology, over in his head. You sat, anxiously, as minutes ticked by until he was puffing his cheeks to let out air, and standing up from the couch. 

He turned to you. "I love you, you know that," he began, and even before he had a chance to finish, you were already drowning him out, world crumbling around you as tears welled back up in your eyes. Maybe if you weren't as emotional as you were that night, your vision wouldn't have already gone blurry, and your heart wouldn't be shattering in your chest already. 

"But?" you countered, a sob escaping you at the end of the word.

He froze at the sound of it, his eyebrows turning in to each other, "Sorry?"

"You love me, but?"

"I don't understand."

"I'm sitting here, sobbing really violently and I look hideous, and you've just discovered I'm co-dependent, and you don't like that about me, so now you're telling me that you love me, but this isn't going to work out, and I need to work on myself before I get into another relationship, and you hope I can find happiness, and—"

"—What are you talking about?" he cut your ranting off, blinking a few times, confused. 

"Is that not what's happening?" 

"No?"

"Oh."

You stared at him, and he stared at you, and you felt your heart slowly pick itself back up from the pits of your stomach, each piece mending itself back together. He wasn't breaking up with you.

"I wasn't going to say that at all. Please don't put words in my mouth."

"Sorry," you said, though it wasn't very sincere. He crouched down in front of you, hands finding your fidgeting ones to hold them.

"Can I finish what I'm going to say before you cut me off this time?" Wordlessly, you nodded your head, and so he continued. "I love you, and you know that, and I don't want you to think I'm upset or mad at you for being codependent. You're allowed to not know how to navigate a relationship. But—"

"—There it is—" he glared with no real heat at you, and your lips twitched "—Sorry."

"But I need you to communicate with me. I'm going to inevitably do things that upset you, because you're co-dependent. We need to figure those things out, because a lot of the time you will respond unhealthily, and knowing what I know now, I don't want to be a trigger in any way."

"You won't be a trigger," you mumbled, and he shot you a pointed look, and your shoulders deflated. "I just feel stupid communicating things like that. Like, oh, I'm sad because my boyfriend is out of state for work and he's super busy and not responding to my messages so I think he might hate me."

"That isn't stupid."

"Yes it is!"

He said your name, eyebrows risen, and he shook his head. "You're upset about something. That isn't a stupid thing at all."

"It feels stupid."

"Okay, well, how about the next time I'm away on a case and not replying and you miss me, which is what that crazy, sad, completely reasonable phenomenon is called, by the way, you communicate that with me, and you see how I respond?"

"What if you tell me to go fuck myself?" 

He didn't even need to verbally deny your words for you to know that that response was completely out of character for him. All it took was one simple look, and you were diffidently smiling and averting your gaze, mumbling a quiet, "Okay."

And yes, the next time he was out of the state and you missed him, as he so kindly put it, you told him. And he spent three hours on the phone that night with you, reassuringly expressing how much he loved you, and how little he hated you.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[felassan]

David Gaider on Kieran, under a cut for length:

"CHARACTERS - DAY TWO: Kieran (Technically this is an addendum to yesterday, but I make the rules here so nyah!) Heading into DAI, I had a bite-sized problem on my hands. I knew Morrigan would feature. I also knew we were importing previous choices. So now I had to contend with: the Old God Baby. Here's the thing about honouring previous game choices, from a design perspective: it's a sucker's game. What many fans picture, when you mention it, is divergent *plot* -- the story changes path based on those major choices. How exciting! But you will never be able to deliver divergent plot. You can deliver flavour differences (usually in the form of divergent dialogue), character swaps (character X appears instead of Y), and extra content (such as a side quest) -- but plot branching, particularly the critical path? It's a question of resources, and there's never enough to go around. "Here Lies the Abyss" in DAI was about as good as it gets, and even that was a far cry from how I originally pictured it (hello last-minute insert of Stroud when a DAO Warden import got cut). The Old God Baby was one of the main choices from DAO -- Morrigan has a baby? With the Archdemon's soul?! Most DAO players who flagged that choice surely expected *monumental* consequences. World-shaking consequences! And we talked about it. We did. There were, like, three different designs of the DAI ending where OGB Kieran could cause complete divergence: new path, cutscenes, the whole nine yards. But it wasn't going to happen. It was a decision from *two games ago* that only a small minority (hello telemetry) would even choose. To the rest, they probably neither knew about it nor cared... so how many resources could you invest? To do what? Set up an even bigger divergence for the NEXT game? The other writers acknowledged my anxiety with a grim nod every time it came up, but they had no solutions. Finally, I realized there WAS a solution, and that was changing how I thought about the choice: don't make it about Kieran. The players don't know him, never have. Make it about Morrigan. Thus began a feverish three days where I wrote probably the most complicated scene of my career: Morrigan's reckoning with Flemeth in DAI and the fallout after. Three different versions (OGB Kieran, non-OGB Kieran, and no Kieran), each with branching for other choices (like the Well of Sorrows). I did it all at once. There was no other way to wrap my head around the complexity of it. It was also a tough sell to the team, considering the amount of cinematics work, but they agreed we had to do *something*. And still it felt... underwhelming, insofar as divergence goes. But it was also good. I remember when I first spoke with Claudia, about how this was Morrigan's story. This was about how motherhood had changed her, how she'd grown up. Claudia got a bit teary-eyed. It was a journey she was familiar with, she said. Her first son, Odin, had been born in 2005 not long after DAO came out. And, man, she killed with that performance! Kate, too, but I'll get to her later. Claudia dug down, and that scene where Morrigan tells Flemeth she'll never be the mother Flemeth was to her? That came from someplace very raw. It was devastating to witness in the booth. There were tears all around. Not long after, Claudia called and asked if maybe - just maybe - Odin could play Kieran? He was a bit young (not yet 5, then), but it felt... right? We agreed. Claudia was in the booth, gently coaching him through his lines, and I think that was the first moment I felt I'd done the right thing."

[source thread]

User: "Do you find it an odd choice that Kieran hasn’t been mentioned at all in Veilguard?" David Gaider: "If there’s less reactivity in DATV, I’m unsurprised. Continuing choice from up to 3 games earlier is… unsupportable. Yet DA established the expectation they would so… damned if you do, damned if you don’t?" [source]

User: "EA is one of the biggest game companies ever. I don't think more complex diverging plots are impossible." David Gaider: "Well, if only more writing was all it took. Sadly, it's also cinematics. Art time for all those reappearing characters you probably want to look *just* right. And let's not forget we have to test all those permutations! So I don't disagree with you in spirit, but I don't think it's the answer here." [source]

User: "is there a possibility of future kieran appearances in a book or something similar outside of the games?" David Gaider: "I'd have no way of knowing that." [source]

User: "I’m actually shocked so little people chose the dark ritual. That was basically the main reason Flemeth sent Morrigan with the wardens, no?" David Gaider: "The impression you get of what "most" players do - in almost any game, not just DA - is very different if you're online a lot. Consider here that it's not just the % of DAO players who chose the Dark Ritual, it's the % of DAI players WHO PLAYED DAO and cared to import that choice 5 years later." [source]

User: "Is there anything you wish you had done differently, in hindsight?" David Gaider: "Probably just to not ever do importing choices between games in the first place." [source]

User: "Kieran only existed in my DAI state b/c Morrigan as a mother really appealed to me. I wasn't expecting to be devastated by those scenes 😭 I guess when we complain about lack of consequences from prev choices in DAV we must also ask how MUCH are we willing to pay for those branches to exist?" David Gaider: "That's indeed it. Content directed towards reactivity would have to come from somewhere else. So essentially a shorter game overall for the sake of those hardcore fans who'd import - who would, I imagine, REALLY enjoy that... but it's a tough cost/benefit analysis to make." [source]

User: "mr gaider im gonna keep it real with you if i had to choose between my hof and hawke i would've simply passed away" David Gaider: "Right? That was the ENTIRE idea! I was very excited, and for a while it seemed possible." [source]

User: "This has been a very interesting read but I have to ask why they decided to use Stroud instead of the HoF" David Gaider: "1) Complexity of providing means for a player to build a Warden (which they did in DATV for the Inquisitor). Also spoiled the surprise. 2) We’d have needed to give the Warden a voice. Add these to the cost and it was deemed not worth it." [source]

User: "Genuine question, not a critique - but what made the OGB decision one that couldn't be handwaved as canon no matter what was or wasn't chosen? Leliana and Flemeth being around no matter what come to mind. Was OGB simultaneously too major and too minor of a decision?" David Gaider: "Flemeth and Leliana being alive were easily explainable, and we knew we were doing it even back then. Circumventing the Dark Ritual… that would be too cheap. We did talk about it, but it just felt too dishonest. Too high a price for what we’d get in return." [source]

David Gaider: "If I’d known the Well of Sorrows would only see reactivity in the confrontation with Flemeth, I’d probably have made a much bigger deal of it." [source]

David Gaider: "We could maybe have gotten past the need to "reconstruct" the Warden, much like the Inquisitor was reconstructed in DATV (so I understand), but the need to give the Warden a voice was the final nail. Too potentially disappointing for the very people who'd be excited about it, aside from the cost." [source]

[never-afters]

DEMO. (SOON)

The crowning of a jealous king one century ago spelled the doom of invokers, beings bestowed with the ability to control the essence of the world and manifest it in the surface. Out of envy that he was naught but a normal human, he ordered the capture and execution of invokers, reinforcing his power as a king. He made an enemy out of your people to secure his pride and throne.

A hundred of years passed and the slaughter only continues, a jealous ruler crowned one after another. The land of Zandria is stained with the blood of your ancestors, and it only continues to spill. You, who were once revered, admired, and loved, are now loathed, imprisoned, and executed simply for bearing the ability to manipulate aether, the essence of the land of Aeresia.

You are an invoker. Do you have what it takes to survive the wrath of a land that calls for your death? Or will you, like the ones before you, fall into the abyss?

Abyssal Depths is a dark fantasy set in the fictional world of Aeresia. It is the revamped version of my interactive fiction previously titled Invoker.

˖⋆࿐໋₊ Who are you? Only you have the answer to that question. ˖⋆࿐໋₊ Build bonds with the people you meet. Friendship, rivalry, romance — pick your poison. ˖⋆࿐໋₊ Disguise yourself as a human, working as a mercenary for the guild Sentinel. Try your best to hide the truth from your guildmates. ˖⋆࿐໋₊ Do your job. Who knows? Maybe along the way, you'll find what you're looking for. ˖⋆࿐໋₊ Survive. Perhaps you'll live long enough to see all the mysteries unravel.

Elfrid Basset [f] ✦ Your childhood friend and the daughter of the woman who saved you. Elfrid has always had a strong personality, always pushing you out of your comfort zone. Stubborn, impulsive, yet caring to those she cares about, there was never a time where trouble never followed her. She doesn't know your truth, but as people say, there is no secret that lasts forever.

Lucianus le Cordiér [m] ✦ An ex-noble you and Elfrid stumbled upon a year ago one night. Without the riches and reputation his family once had, Lucian brandished his skill as a swordsman and earned himself a spot as a mercenary in the same guild as you. He appears kind, gentle and open, but the air of mystery that surrounds him proves that no one truly knows who he was once.

Alcaeus Vanderbilt [m] ✦ A person from your past that you thought you will never see again. Meeting him may mean good things, but perhaps it also meant that the ghosts from your past are now catching up to you. Smart, skilled, but surrounded by walls he built to protect himself, Alcaeus won't let anyone take away anything from him again.

Amelia Vanderbilt [f] ✦ Someone from your past who lives with the guilt of surviving. Amelia has always been sickly, but despite everything she has outlived everyone else. She's still the timid and soft-spoken girl you barely saw back home, the only thing you can't believe is her unwavering trust that there is still good left in the world you're both living in.

Clair [m] ✦ A traveling bard who decided one day it will be fun to go adventuring with you and your group. He said he wants to turn your exploits into a great story, and no matter how hard you dissuade him, he never relents. Charming and cunning, that's how Clair is, and you never realized how dangerous those two qualities together were until you met him.

Salomé [f] ✦ An eccentric woman you met in the middle of your mission. Boisterous, fun, yet eccentric, it's hard not to notice her with all the rings that adorn her fingers and the scars that she flaunts like trophies. She tries to come off as someone who knows nothing, but you have the feeling that she hides something you need to know. You wonder what it could be.

Kazehara [f/m/nb] ✦ With clothes you've never seen around Zandria, Kazehara stood out like a sore thumb the first time you saw them. Framed for a murder they swear they never did, they join you in an attempt to clear their name. Sarcastic, cynical, and brash, there is never a shortage of insult from Kazehara. However, you know too well that it's merely an image they conjured to protect themselves in a land they know nothing about.

??? [f/m/nb] ✦ A figure in your dreams, blurred and ever changing. A memory of the past, a phantom of your grief, your desire for warmth — you do not know. However, the way they speak, the way they try to meet your eyes behind the fog that keeps them at bay, and the way they try to reach for you make them seem real. They feel familiar, and there exists a tug in your soul that pulls you closer to them.

OTHERS

✦ Ask box is open! Any question is okay but there is no guarantee that your ask will be answered. Anything that are spoilery, disrespectful, and extremely explicit will be deleted. ^^ ✦ The demo for Invoker can still be accessed through google search. However, it hasn't been updated since 2021, and won't be updated anymore. ✦ This project is not my main focus as I'm a full time university student. My goal is to release the demo before 2024 ends, though. ✦ I haven't decided which platform to use for the demo yet, but rest assured that writing is as consistent as it can be despite my busy schedule. I haven't had the chance to learn how to use Twine yet, so I'm either planning to look for a collaborator who can code in Twine or stick with choicescript first until I get to learn how to use Twine. ✦ I will be posting character profiles for the ROs, though there are no set dates yet. This is to give way for a more detailed description for their personality and physical appearance.

[puffcap-factory]

As night will find its day (Diluc x Reader)

Diluc x fem!reader; angst, established relationship, reader lost her memory ohno!, a little bit of comfort at the end but mostly angst (esp. on Diluc’s end) What if after an argument with Diluc, you fell into the abyss during your expedition not long after, and you went back to the surface after 6 months, but without your memory of him.

This story is based on the drabble I made (here). I used it as an introduction for this story as I prefer to post a completed version in one post, so some of you who had read the previous post can skip the first part if you like!

Words: 4.2k

Notes: Okay I clearly went overboard, I never thought I would write this long but I got carried away. At one point I really felt bad for Diluc and I even asked myself why. I've also set the reader into female because I felt like it somewhat refers a bit (if you squint hard enought tho... ) to the other Diluc fic I made. But of course, each story is separate and you can always enjoy each one separately.

So, is it really connected? is it not? who knows! haHaHA

As always, please enjoy the angst!

•~•~•~•

Where is this place…?

Your steps were heavy, each step sinking into the ground as you trudged along the ground. The rustling grass and the rich scent of soil tugged at something familiar inside you, whispering of a place you once knew. Perhaps, you had found your way back to your own world, after all?

With each step, you moved forward little by little, limping slightly, as you took your time to absorb the surroundings after being thrown out of a rift near the shores of Liyue. Your clothes were ragged after what had seemed like endless battles you had fought to survive in the abyss, and your body felt numb with exhaustion. Yet, in this moment of weariness, there was a bittersweet comfort in the familiar earth beneath your feet.

“I’m back…”

You mumbled, your voice barely audible. Your mind was like a blank canvas as your feet carried you aimlessly, trying to dig deep into the recesses of your memory. But, everything before the darkness in the abyss remained elusive. Everything was hazy, as if someone had locked your memory before your fall into the abyss in a box, with its key just out of reach. 

Hours slipped by as you wandered, until you finally found yourself at the foot of a small hill. The wind brought a gentle breeze, tousling your hair, and you reached up to brush it from your face. Before you lay a field of grapevines, their leaves rustling softly in the wind. At the top of the hill, nestled among the vineyards, stood a mansion, and you were strangely pulled towards into it.

You slowly stepped forward onto the pathway leading to the mansion, when a man suddenly appeared in front of you, his face etched with shock as if he had just seen a ghost. His mouth fell open, and his arms hung limply at his sides as he tried to process the sight before him. There was a pause before he decided to speak.

“…y/n...?”

You looked up into his face, noticing his red hair pulled back into a ponytail. What a pretty sight, you thought, before realizing that he had called your name.

Y/n… Right, that’s my name. At least I remember that.

The man rushed to you, pulling you into a gentle hug, supporting you as you struggled to stand. You could feel his uneven breaths, hear the panic in his attempts to calm himself. His hand trembled against your back, offering support as he whispered fragmented apologies into your ear. Despite your confusion, there was a strange comfort in his embrace, a feeling of safety that allowed the fatigue to finally seize you. 

He then pulled back slightly, his brows furrowed with worry as he noticed your dazed state. Despite the profound care you felt from his gaze, his face was a void in your memory. You tried to rake through your mind, but strangely found nothing. He lifted a trembling hand to your face, gently caressing your cheek, wishing at least you would somehow respond to his silent wail – call his name, anything. 

You opened your mouth, and with the last of your strength, you finally asked.

“Who are you…?”

•~•~•~•

It had been almost half a year since you disappeared. Diluc had been restless, pacing back and forth at the guild, exhausting every resource and contact in his search for you. He had poured all his energy into finding you, but every lead ended in nothing.

Then, on that day you finally reappeared, relief washed over him at seeing you alive, but the first words you said to him had shattered him.

You had not recognized him, nor the place you should be familiar with.

How? Why?  How could this happen? Is this even possible? Where does your memory stretch back to? This should be temporary, right…?

I haven’t lost you… have I?

Thousands of questions rushed through Diluc's mind, each one more painful than the last. He speculated endlessly, his thoughts spinning with countless what-ifs. However, the worst-case scenario, the thought he wouldn’t even dare to admit, scared him to the core. Recalling the moment he had held you in his arms and saw you looking at him as if he were a stranger, his heart sank deeper than it ever had before.

However, Diluc was quick with his action as to gather the servants to explain the situation after you were rested. While he acknowledged the possibility of memory loss, he instructed them to prioritize your care until you healed and not to push you. “Treat her like any guest with respect,” he had said, though uttering the word "guest" pained him deeply.

Diluc entered his bedroom to check on you, as he did every day. He sat next to the bed and gently lifted the cloth from your forehead to change it. His gaze lingered on your face, which seemed to be peacefully sleeping. Everything was still—the evening sun filtered through the window, casting a soft light around you, making you appear almost angelic, in contrast to the fear and anxiety gnawing at Diluc's mind.

He gently caressed your cheek, feeling the warmth of your skin against his, as if trying to salvage any dear moment with you. But then, his mind wandered back to when he had let his anger overtake him, leading to this outcome.

The time, when you two were shouting at each other, and the look on your face, hurt by his words...

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stop the flashbacks from flooding his mind. A storm of regret built inside him, reminding him of his past actions.

He exhaled deeply and stood up, finding it difficult to tear his gaze from you. As he looked at you one last time, he silently prayed for you to wake up soon, longing for a chance to make things right... if that was even possible in the first place.

•~•~•~•

A few days later, one afternoon, Diluc returned from his own expedition from the guild. As soon as he entered, Adelinde rushed to him.

"Master Diluc, she's awake. She has been since early morning," she said, her voice filled with both relief and worry.

Diluc's heart quickly raced with anticipation hearing what Adelinde had said. But dread crept in when she added, "But… she doesn’t seem to recognize me—or this place."

So, his suspicion was true.

"Where is she now?" he asked.

"At the garden table, in the backyard," Adelinde responded.

Without wasting a moment, he rushed into the backyard. He found you seated at the table, your back facing him as you were seemingly admiring the landscape beyond. Diluc carefully approached you from the side, his footsteps echoing softly on the stone tile. Hearing the sound, you turned your head to see him coming towards you.

"Good afternoon," Diluc greeted, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Oh... good afternoon," you replied as he took a seat opposite you, facing the landscape. 

"How are you feeling?" he asked, searching your face for any hint of recognition.

"I’m feeling… pretty well," you said hesitantly, clearly still confused. "The maid told me you rescued me when I fell unconscious. So... thank you."

“Don’t mention it, I did what I have to do,” he answered. You smiled weakly at him in response as he paused, contemplating his words whether to ask you about your past recollections. But you spoke first. 

"To be honest, I barely remember anything about where I came from, in case you’re wondering. Everything is foggy… All I remember is a constant struggle for survival in the abyss, before I came to this place, I... I—" You paused, trying to gather your thoughts. "I feel afraid... of all this…uncertainty."

His worst fear was confirmed, and his heart shattered upon hearing what you just said. Seeing the confusion and fear in your eyes, imagining what you must have endured in the abyss, suffocated him. Yet, he tried his best to maintain his calm exterior.

"...But," you continued, momentarily bringing him back from his thoughts.

He looked up, meeting your eyes.

"There is something calming about this place... I feel somewhat... safe."

Upon hearing your words, there was a mixture of relief and sorrow washing over Diluc. One part was relieved that you felt safe, but he couldn’t deny the ache he felt in his heart, reminding him the painful reality that all the memories he once shared with you might now only reside within him. It took every ounce of strength not to crumble in front of you.

Yet, he reached out, his hand gently resting on yours. "You are safe here," he whispered, his voice weighted with thousands of emotions swirling inside him. 

You looked at him rather curiously at first, taking in his genuine words, then gave a warm smile. “Thank you, I really do owe you.”

“No, you don’t owe me anything. Don’t worry about it,” he responded, shaking his head. “If you want to know about the city, I’d be glad to show you around. There are lots of good people there.”

Your face began to lit up at his offer, a smile widening across your face. “Really…? That would be great!”

Ah, how he had dearly missed that sight…

•~•~•~•

It had been almost three weeks since you began your stay at the Dawn Winery. Diluc had been treating you very well, helping you adjust to daily life, sometimes accompanying you to Mondstadt whenever he had spare time. Of course, the people who had apparently known you from before, already heard the story, as Diluc had already warned them not to scare you by overwhelming you with questions. You eventually learned that you were someone who had originally come from this very city. The people were warm and welcoming despite your inexistence of your past memories, much to your appreciation. 

Today, you found yourself seated in the winery gardens, reading a book that Lisa, the librarian, had lent you. The title read ‘History of Mondstadt’ — Lisa had recommended a lighter book for you to read, but you had insisted on this one, determined to fill in the gaps in your memory. After all, you didn’t want to burden Diluc for too long; he had done more than enough for you, and you planned to live independently as soon as you were ready.

As you flipped through the middle pages, Adelinde called out to you.

“My lady, it’s lunchtime,” she gently called from the main door.

“Ah, coming!” You closed the book and went inside. The manor was quieter than usual, as Diluc had been out for work since the day before, so you found yourself eating alone at the table.

“Please, enjoy, and if you need anything, just call me, alright?” Adelinde said with a slight bow before returning to her duties.

You nodded in thanks, taking a moment to observe your food and your surroundings. There was always a strange tug on your memory about this place that you couldn’t quite explain, but the manor felt serene, as if your body was oddly accustomed to it. After enjoying your meal, you decided to roam around the house, indulging to your curiosities.

As you wandered, you noticed that Diluc’s office door was slightly open. You had never seen what was inside, but you knew you shouldn't pry—you wanted to respect his privacy, especially given how well he had treated you. But the glimpse of the room inside seemed to call to you, and your feet unconsciously brought you closer.

Slowly, you stepped inside, taking your time to observe the room. The room was unlit, but the sunlight casting through the window made it seem almost… ethereal. You saw wooden carved cabinets containing files and books, all sorted neatly, and another cabinet holding some antiques. His desk was not the tidiest, with documents sprawled across the surface. You noticed a paper on the floor near his seat, so you carefully picked it up. As you placed it on the desk, you noticed a slightly open drawer, and one item inside particularly drew your attention. The sunlight reflected on a metallic object, making it hard to miss.

You hesitated, knowing you were already prying more than you should. But your curiosity got the better of you, and you decided to take a peek. You opened the drawer a bit more and saw that the glowing item was a golden pocket watch. Intrigued, you picked it up, examining its intricate carvings closely. Carefully, you opened it, and a bittersweet melody began to play, revealing a tiny music box inside. The melody seemed to stir something deep within you, an emotion you couldn’t quite place, as if you’ve heard it somewhere before… from a place buried deep inside your forgotten memories. Your eyes, however, were drawn to the upper part of the watch, where a small photo was wedged.

The photo was small but clear, showing two people laughing lovingly. One of them was unmistakably Diluc, and the other... you let out a silent gasp. The other person standing next to him looked just like you. Your brows furrowed as you tried to process this revelation. The sight of the familiar face in the photo, sent a rush of conflicting emotions through you. 

…Is this really… me? Why do I look so happy and close here? Who was I…?

You took a deep breath to quickly reassess yourself, realizing that up until now, there had been small things you found rather peculiar: the way the maids sometimes stumbled over their words, as if hiding something; the stock of female outfits in the manor that strangely suited your taste; the food, everything seemed to be in place to your liking. You had brushed these off before as mere coincidences, but now, seeing the photo, it all strangely began to make sense.

You stood silent at the room, observing the photo with the melody still playing on your hand. Questions rushed through your mind, and fear—of possibly having forgotten something important—slowly crept in. 

To your surprise, the partially open door swung wider, revealing Adelinde’s rather shocked face, which quickly relaxed upon seeing you. You panickedly closed the pocket watch, abruptly cutting the music.  “Ah, um—I…��� you scrambled to explain, but she slowly approached you, gently taking your hand that held the pocket watch, and placed her other hand reassuringly on top.

“You see, I’ve known Master from his young age. He tends to keep his most cherished belongings hidden,” she smiled gently. “To think that you could find it…”

“I- I’m sorry, I know I’m not supposed to. Please don’t tell him,” you pleaded.

“No, don’t worry about that,” she paused, glancing at the pocket watch. “I’m the one who accidentally left the door open after cleaning the floor. I should be in the wrong.”

You were about to protest, but she continued calmly. “Master Diluc had warned us, the servants, not to tell you about your past status, given your situation, as he did not want to pressure you.”

You went silent, thinking back to how he had always been considerate and careful around you. If you were really someone that important to him—to think of what had been going through his mind all this time… words felt stuck in your throat.

“He isn’t the most expressive person, but he has been prioritizing your well-being above all else. He just wanted you to feel safe,” Adelinde added.

You took your time to process the information. It left you with one burning question. “…Then… who was I to him?”

Adelinde looked into your eyes. Though she kept her warm smile, her eyes masked a depth of emotion. “I believe that is a question Master himself should answer.” She paused before continuing. “I have desserts ready for you. Shall we?”

You nodded, placing the pocket watch back in the drawer, and instinctively followed her to the pantry. But your thoughts were tangled, processing all the information about your possible connection with Diluc. Everything in your mind was jumbled. You couldn’t find any memories to piece it all together, and you had even told him that you considered moving out at one point... but now, you felt like you couldn’t just leave now, not when you felt something tugging at your depths of your heart.

•~•~•~•

Diluc sighed as he headed back from his expedition, walking along the dirt path leading back to the winery.  As much as he had wished to spend more time with you, some urgent tasks couldn’t be left unattended.

During the time of his absence, he desperately hoped that you might magically regain your memory, but he had seen the joy you found in the city, the spark of curiosity and happiness that had returned to your eyes. He couldn't bear the thought of selfishly forcing you to stay with him, tethered by a past you couldn’t remember. It felt unfair to you. To you now, he was just someone else—a kind stranger, perhaps.

The painful truth was, as much as he dreaded it, that sooner or later, he would have to part ways with you, letting you live your own free life. Although the thought of losing you all over again tore him deeply, he would always prioritize your well-being. What it matters now is that you are safe and sound, he thought repeatedly, as if to convince himself more than anything.

As he passed the sign for the winery, Diluc spotted you seated under a big tree, reading a book. You were quite far from him, too engrossed in your book to even notice him, but he recognized that the spot you had chosen instantly. It was your favorite place to spend time outside, a place where you had often had picnics with him in the past. A small, wistful smile curved the edge of his lips as he reminisced. Back then, he would simply walk up to you, and you would welcome him with a warm embrace. But now, the fear of facing the painful reality kept him rooted in place, unable bring himself to you. With a heavy heart, he turned towards the manor, leaving you to your peaceful solitude under the tree.

Even though you had lost your memory, Diluc noticed that some things about you hadn't changed. Somehow, without realizing it, you still found yourself to your favorite places and sometimes performed small, mundane actions that felt like déjà vu to him. These familiar gestures gave him a bittersweet sense of comfort, a reassurance that, despite everything, you were still… you.

That night, Diluc found himself seated in his office, the golden pocket watch in his hand as he stared at the picture inside. The gentle melody played, filling the room with its bittersweet tune. He was lost in thought, the memories of better times flooding his mind. The joy in your eyes, the warmth of your embrace—all now felt like distant memories of a past life.

A knock on the door, already slightly open, pulled him back to reality. “Yes?” he called out, hastily composing himself and halting the melody as he closed the watch.

You hesitantly peeked into the room, the soft tune having drawn you in as you passed by. “I’m sorry, I heard the music, and...”

He looked at you, a mix of surprise and apprehension in his eyes. “It’s alright. Please, come in.”

You stepped inside, glancing around the room before your gaze settled on him. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I just... the melody sounded familiar.”

Diluc’s heart tightened at your words. He had hoped for a spark of recognition, a flicker of memory, but he knew better than to expect miracles. “It’s a keepsake,” he explained, his voice soft. “Something very dear to me.”

You nodded, sensing the weight of his words. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “There’s so much I don’t remember, and it’s been hard. But... I’ve felt strangely at home here. As if I belong.”

His eyes softened, and he motioned for you to sit. “I’m glad you feel that way,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “This place... it holds many memories.”

You took a seat, your curiosity and confusion evident in your eyes. "Adelinde mentioned that you didn’t want to overwhelm me with my past, and I really appreciate that. But I need to know...," you paused, your knuckles curling on top of your knees. "…Who was I to you?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with emotion. Diluc looked at you, his heart torn between the desire to protect you and the need to share the truth. “You were... you are someone very important to me,” he said finally, his voice thick with emotion as he glanced to the side, trying to maintain his composure.

You fell silent, feeling a tightness in your chest and a lump in your throat. “…I—I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say,” you managed, your voice trembling. You couldn’t place where exactly it came from, but sadness washed over you, as the weight of forgotten memories pressing down on you, giving you the feeling as if you really had lost something very, very dear.

Diluc immediately turned back to you, realizing he had made you feel worse. He cleared his throat and blinked rapidly, feeling his own tears forming in his eyes. “Don’t apologize. It was never your fault to begin with.” He rose, taking a deep breath to steady himself. “Oh, and I’ve talked to a landlord in Mondstadt. He said tomorrow—”

He tried to shift the topic to lighten the mood, but his words faltered as he noticed you still seated, head hung low, with tears silently dripping onto your clenched fists. His heart ached at the sight of you crying, his emotions threatening to spill over as his breathing grew ragged. He slowly went to your side and knelt beside you, his hand gently placed on your shoulder, as his gaze filled with deep concern.

Diluc’s grip on your shoulder tightened slightly as words seemed to fail him, too fragile to contain the depth of his emotions. Instead, he moved closer, enveloping you in a gentle embrace.

You let your emotions spill over, leaning into his arms and crying on his shoulder. The warmth of his embrace was strangely familiar and comforting. Diluc, on the other hand, sensing the futility of words, sought to soothe you as his hand traced slow, calming circles on your back. He looked up, his gaze unfocused and distant, as he felt a single tear stroke down his cheek.

 •~•~•~•

The sun streamed through the curtains, filling the living room with a warm, golden light as you descended the stairs. Diluc stood near the main exit door, waiting for you. Today was the day he had arranged for you to meet the landlord in Mondstadt. You had spent the night wide awake, drowning in your thoughts about the previous night.

As you reached the bottom, your eyes met his in a silent exchange. Diluc, composed as ever — befitting the master of the winery, but you noticed a fleeting softness in his gaze. Your steps slowed as you approached him, uncertainty weighing heavily on your heart.

You stopped at the edge of the stairs, gripping the rail and fidgeting with your hands. “Diluc, I…”

He turned his head towards you, his expression gentle. “What is it?” he asked softly, stepping closer, his voice filled with concern.

“…would you… have wished for me to stay rather than moving out?” you asked reluctantly, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Diluc’s eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by your question. He took a deep breath, his composure wavering for a moment. “If I were to be honest,” he began, his voice low and earnest, “I would wish for you to stay. But more than anything, I want you to find happiness and a sense of belonging, whether that’s here or in Mondstadt.”

You felt a lump form in your throat, again — as his words stirred a mix of emotions within you. The thought of leaving this place, leaving him, somewhat felt like abandoning a part of yourself, and you couldn't shake the desire to understand your past and your connection to him anymore.

Diluc reached out, gently taking your hands in his. “Your presence here has brought a light to this place, to my life,” he admitted, his eyes searching yours. “But I won't hold you back. The choice is yours, and I will support whatever you decide.”

Tears welled in your eyes, the weight of his words and the depth of his feelings finally enveloping you. For a moment, the world outside seemed distant, as if the only thing that mattered was the fragile bond that tethered you together, slowly finding its way back.

“Then…,” you began, your voice trembling, “I would like to stay a little longer. To understand more, to remember…”

Diluc’s expression softened, relief and gratitude shining in his eyes. “As long as you need,” he said, pulling you into a warm embrace.

In that moment, you felt a sense of peace, anxiety exiting your heart. You knew well that the journey ahead was uncertain, but for now, you were exactly where you needed to be.

“You’re always welcome here.”

•~•~•~•

Taglist: @coffeeisbehindyou @sandramalikstyles-blog @rebeccawinters @mis-disaster @definitelyatari @vintag3u @synqiri @distinguished-jeseter-things @eroxotckv

[leonsdolly]

Wicked Game

Leon Kennedy x fem! reader

Synopsis: Leon leaves you for her, and you're not sure what to do now.

CW: nsfw 18+, infidelity, angst, suicidal thoughts, comparing yourself to her, masturbation, mentions of p in v

WC: 1.5k

“What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you…” You murmur along to the melancholy words that are floating around your room like butterflies. Actually, more like flies nearing the end of their life span - movement transitioning from an erratic flight to a lazy, almost purposeless dwindle until they’re on their backs with their legs sticking up in the air. That’s exactly how you are now that Leon’s done with you. A dead fly - no one could save me but you. Chris Isaak gets it. He gets it so well that he’s been looping for God knows how long.

Was it only last week that Leon left you for the ghost from his past? The one in red, haunting him in ways that you were oblivious to. Always bleeding red, like Bloody Mary or something. Maybe it was better if you’d feigned ignorance to the evidence. Maybe you’d still be able to call him yours if you played your role of a cross-eyed Mary jumping right into his arms with no protests, always playing it clean.

It was all because of a letter that was carefully tucked away in his desk drawer, folded and sealed with a kiss. No, literally a kiss. The bitch left her lipstick imprint in lieu of her signature. YSL, shade R1. You’d always been a Dior girl anyway. 

You swore up and down that you weren’t purposely snooping through his belongings, that you were just looking for Scotch tape. The offensive document shook in your hand as you fearfully inquired about its contents. He was stuttering and ashamed and apologetic and all the things a good man is when he’s sinned. He let you cry and scream and sink to your knees with your head in your hands like you were never going to come back up, like you could die in this position and be encased in marble. A new weeping angel.

You know in your heart that you could never equate to her in his eyes. The knowledge that he’s probably been comparing you to her throughout your relationship makes you so damn ill. Maybe you should slit your own throat in front of him and let the crimson flow over your body so you can match with her. Bleeding red all over the place, letting him see nothing but that cursed color, the way he did all those years ago in the city where it all started. The way he’d still continued to do so after meeting you and promising all sorts of things you weren’t accustomed to hearing. You suppose you can’t fault him completely, it wasn’t like he intended on hurting you; he’d tried to overcome his adversities and forge a new home for himself, one that was pink and frilly and covered him in glossy kisses after a long day at work. But ultimately, it wasn’t enough. His allegiance lay with first red, then white, then blue. 

You just miss him so damn much. You’re desperate enough for him that if he were to walk through the door right now, you’d take him back in a heartbeat. Sure, maybe you’d have difficulty meeting his eyes for a while, deep pools, murky with guilt and who knows what else. Your vision would be limited to the freckles on his neck, the ones resembling a vampire bite, but that’s alright with you. You’re familiar with the area, having kissed it so many times. You shouldn't be thinking about those little spots or anything else about him for that matter. He made his bed, and now he has to lie in it. With her. Pressed up against her with his face tucked into the crook of her neck. Oh God, now you're the one seeing red. Is there really such a thing as a red string tying two people together, keeping them bound for eternity? Hopefully not, because you're nauseous at the concept that it's always been her. She was right there beside his former bright eyed and bushy-tailed self, the version that had a vague understanding of how the world worked, before he was your solemn Leon. They trudged through the abyss together, leaning on one another for strength in the midst of a plague. You wish God would just deliver armies of locusts to devour you and him and her and the rest of the world. The end is here anyway now that he isn’t. 

Your last memory of him is that pitiful look in his eyes as he gazes at you one more time. You said I was your baby. He said a lot of things, promised you the world, and look how things turned out. It’s sickening really, how cruel fate can be. Was this fate? You’re going to tie their disgusting red string around your neck and squeeze until your head pops off like a rocket. A blazing glory, capable of stealing his attention.

The thoughts of needing to be better so that he’d be with you again swirls around in your brain, filling up your entire being until you can’t bear it any longer. This wasn't supposed to happen. He was supposed to put a ring on your finger and give you his babies and hold you close on your deathbed. Your hand twitches, muscle memory activated from all the times you slipped your hand into his, anchoring you to him. I’m so sorry… Ada and I… We’ve been through a lot together. You can’t take this anymore. But I love you more than anything in the whole world… How am I supposed to live without you? He never did give you a proper response to that, silence encompassing the air between you.

You shuffle to the bottom drawer of your dresser and fish out a wrinkled shirt that had been shoved towards the very back, away from prying eyes - navy blue with the letters “RPD” emblazoned in white across the front. You slip it on and inhale the fabric draped over your frame, protecting you, hugging you as you crawl back into your bed. His arms really were the loveliest place to be. Firm and gentle, wrapped around your torso like your very own bullet vest. Shielding you from horrors you would never have to experience, he’d make sure of that. Or at least he had, anyway. His lingering scent fills your senses like whispers in an abandoned chapel. Something familiar, a sense of comfort in your hollowed out state. It takes over your grief for a second, and when you shut your eyes tight, everything is alright again.

You yearn to hold onto this feeling, but it dissipates once your eyes open, and you're isolated yet again. Your bottom lip trembles as you squeeze your eyes shut as hard as you can, gripping onto the hem of his shirt. His arms are around you again, and the smell of him is welcomed. It elicits a natural response from your body, begging for his touch, forming a silent prayer to any divinity who will listen. Your thighs involuntarily part as you reminisce on the feeling of his face in between them, tongue lapping at everything you have to offer. Whimpers fall from your lips as your other hand travels down to slowly stroke your clit the way he used to do it. There’s my baby. You’re his baby, still so good for him. You rub your clit faster and faster as the hand that was clutching onto his shirt for dear life comes up to squeeze your tits and pinch your nipples. 

You realize that tears have been running down your flushed cheeks as you grind down onto your fingers faster in an effort to chase your high. Just like that… Sweet baby, my sweet baby. 

He's probably fucking her at this exact moment. Cock buried miles deep inside her perfect cunt, perky tits bouncing at every thrust while she moans for him. You’re going to blow your brains out. What kind of sounds does she make when she’s getting the railing of a lifetime? Something more refined than your own little whines. Is she kissing those precious freckles on his neck, giving them all the attention they could ever ask for as he lets out his own delicious noises? You weep as you continue to rub your clit while slick leaks from your neglected pussy, begging for only him to fill it up.

You’re sobbing as you feel the release building up in your core, and you're bawling as you feel your pussy clamp around the ghost of his cock. You let out a cry of both pleasure and agony as you frantically cum all over your fingers. My perfect baby.

Shallow pants escape you as you simply lay motionless, eyes trained fixedly on the ceiling of your melancholy prison. You shakily bring your other hand up to wipe away the tears that have forged new paths for themselves on your cheeks and down to your pillowcase. I love you. You’ll always be my girl.

This world is only gonna break your heart. How are you supposed to live without him? Nobody loves no one. Chris Isaak needs to shut up.

[wholoveseggs]

Dark Star {Part One}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Part One

{Elijah Mikaelson x f!Reader} Bound by love that defies centuries, Elijah Mikaelson will do whatever it takes to resurrect his lost wife. Even if it means forsaking everything he believes in. Once the north star guiding his family, his shattered heart now leads him down a darker path, transforming him into a version beyond redemption. A damned soul, drawing his family into an abyss they may never escape.

♡♡ Hello my lovely followers! This will be a six part series inspired by @njeancastro316 post about red door Elijah (Girl, I've been writing this non-stop since you tagged me! thank you for the inspo). I really put my whole heart into this one, {I even made a playlist to capture the vibes} exploring the depths of Elijah's character and his struggle between love and darkness. Enjoy! && expect pain... ♡♡

6.8k words - Warnings: angst, angst and more angst, grief, heartbreak, intense violence, red door Elijah, emotional turmoil, so much Mikaelson family drama {the whole gang is here && some faves from Mystic Falls will show up later}, No smut in this part, but prepare for plenty of darkness... oh! && croissants...

{Part Two}{Part Three}{Part Four}{Part Five}{Part Six}

@gorgeouslydangerous @starkleila @lydia1369sworld @notleylaaa @vampiresluv

@myanmy @xflowerbombxo @maryvibess @always-and-forever-daydreaming

@spnaquakindgdom @amournoir @meeom @damienmorton @wickedmuse

@cs-please @complicatedandconfusing-25 @youcanhavemybuckanyday @akala6670229 @yeaiamme2

@itsjulzandmydiamonds @witch-of-letters @elijahstwink @rosecentury

@amanda08319 @starshipcookie @li-da-savage @veggie-eggrolls @spideybv28

@sunkissedebony97 @idk00sblog @savannaounana @sekaishell @b1tchy

@loving-and-dreaming @fancycassie-stayfancy @hcqwxrtss123 @iamawkwardandshy @ziayamikaelson

@absolutemarveltrash @darkened-writer @nina6708 @evasmlp

@madeinmyownmind-blog @lovelyy-moonlight @blacknightrises @poppet05 @sweetieseven

@xoxo-shy @nova-j @decaffeinatedparadisepost @fandom-princess-forevermore

Prologue ~ Europe 13th Century

"This way!" A boy laughed as he darted beneath a low-hanging branch. Behind him, a small girl hurried along, lifting her skirt to keep up, her breath catching in short gasps.

"Slow down! Wait for me!" she called, tripping over roots and brambles in her haste. "I can't run as fast as you!"

The boy glanced back, grinning. "Then hurry, will you."

"We ought to be home by now." She replied, frowning.

"We are almost there," he replied, leaping over a fallen branch before turning to face her, eyes gleaming. "We can get home quicker through the woods."

"I don’t like it," she murmured, clutching her skirt tighter. Shadows crept over the path as the sun sank lower, casting an orange glow through the dense branches. "The hour grows late."

The boy shook his head, catching her hand with a reassuring squeeze. "We’ll be fine. It’s only a short way."

Reluctantly, she nodded, holding onto him. "If anything ill should happen, I’ll tell Mother."

He only laughed, tugging her down the narrow path. "If something ill happens, you may not get the chance!"

Their laughter echoed in the stillness as they raced ahead. The trees grew taller, their branches clawing toward the darkening sky, while thick underbrush crowded the trail, rustling with each step. Yet the children, lost in their game, scarcely noticed, laughing and squealing as they chased one another.

Then, a sound, a subtle, almost a whisper, seeped through the quiet. The girl stopped, clutching the boy’s arm. “Did you hear that?”

“What is it?”

“Shh,” she hissed, pulling him closer, her wide eyes searching the shadows. "Listen."

They stood in silence, the air heavy and still, broken only by their own quickening breaths.

“It’s nothing. Perhaps a deer-”

“No, it’s more than that,” she whispered. Somewhere ahead, faint and distant, came the flicker of firelight. And with it, laughter. Wild and strange.

“What is that?” the boy asked, his voice barely a breath.

“Quiet,” she said, creeping forward, pulling him toward the light.

They peered out from behind a tree, breath catching at the sight before them. A great fire blazed, roaring into the sky as shadows twisted around it. Two figures danced wildly around the flames, naked, their skin smeared with red and ash. Their laughter, sharp and otherworldly, pierced the night air.

The girl’s scream barely escaped her lips before the boy’s hand clamped over her mouth, pulling her back. They stumbled, clutching one another, then turned and fled, racing down the trail as fast as their little legs would carry them, branches clawing at their clothes.

By the time they burst into the village, their faces were pale, their breaths ragged. Villagers gathered around as the children stumbled forward, pointing frantically toward the woods.

“Demons!” the girl gasped, clutching at the skirts of the nearest woman. “They’re out there! In the forest!”

There was a hushed sadness over the compound. The lights seemed to have dimmed, and the atmosphere hung heavy, cold and suffocating. It had been that way since the night Elijah found your lifeless body on the cold pavement. The night that changed everything.

Rebekah didn’t like it here anymore. Her home felt more like a tomb than a residence. It was too quiet, too full of memories and emotions too painful to confront. Her big brother was suffering, and there was nothing she could do to help him.

She found Klaus sitting in the courtyard, staring blankly at a chessboard. The pieces were scattered, mid-game, but his focus seemed to drift in and out. Normally, this contemplative silence from him made her nervous, but today she couldn’t muster the energy to care. The weight of everything was too much.

“Any news?” Rebekah asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Klaus didn’t move, didn’t speak at first. He shifted a chess piece absentmindedly and shrugged.

The sound of Marcel’s footsteps echoed through the stillness of the courtyard. She felt one of his warm hands rest gently on the small of her back, and she leaned into him, drawing comfort from his presence.

“I’ve been asking around. Only lead I have is that he’s somewhere in Europe,” Marcel said, his voice sounding hollow.

“Well, where in Europe?” Klaus finally spoke, his gaze never leaving the board.

“Don’t know. Haven’t pinpointed his exact location yet,” Marcel sighed. “But he’s been killing low-level Strix members, leaving bodies in his wake.”

Klaus scoffed softly, moving another piece on the board. “Keep looking,”

“You almost sound like you care,” Rebekah hissed, glaring at him.

“Don’t start with me, little sister,” Klaus warned, his voice low and sharp.

“Elijah has always been there for us,” she snapped, “And when he needs our help, where are you? Sitting here, playing chess with yourself.”

Klaus’s fist slammed down on the chessboard, sending the pieces flying across the table. He stood abruptly, stalking toward her, his eyes blazing. But Rebekah didn’t flinch, didn’t step back. She held his glare with her own, unrelenting.

“What do you want me to do?” Klaus roared, his voice cracking as his anger gave way to the grief simmering beneath. “Tell me, Rebekah. How do I fix this?”

“I want you to find him!” she screamed, tears stinging her eyes. “He’s our brother, Nik!”

Klaus’s shoulders slumped. His rage deflated, leaving him hollow. “I don’t know how to fix this, little sister,” he admitted quietly.

Marcel cleared his throat, stepping forward. “Maybe we should give him some time. Let him mourn her.”

“He’s not mourning, Marcel,” Klaus growled, clenching his jaw. “He’s murdering. He hasn’t even accepted that she’s dead.”

Rebekah and Marcel exchanged worried glances.

“We can’t just let him destroy himself,” Rebekah argued, her voice breaking. “Wherever he is, whoever crosses his path... they’re doomed. He’s out of control.”

“He’s changed,” Marcel muttered, rubbing his temple. “I’ve never seen him like this. So violent, so volatile.”

“That’s why I’m worried, Nik,” Rebekah said, her tone deadly serious. “If he’s not stopped, the Elijah we know will be gone. He will become a monster.”

Klaus looked down at the shattered chess pieces scattered across the table. “We are monsters, Rebekah,” he whispered, his voice raw.

“No, Nik,” she said, her voice trembling. “Not like this.”

Klaus remained silent for a moment, then lifted his gaze to meet hers. “Suppose someone took Marcellus from you. What would you do?”

“I would raze this earth and dance on the ashes,” she answered without hesitation, the fire of her love and loyalty burning bright in her eyes.

“That’s what he’s doing,” Klaus said darkly.

“Yes,” Rebekah agreed, “but Elijah would come for me. He would find me, and help me, keep me from losing myself. Now he’s the one who needs help.”

“How do we stop him?” Marcel asked, though his voice was laden with doubt.

Klaus shook his head slowly. “We don’t.”

“Nik…” Rebekah started, her voice pleading.

“We contain the damage,” Klaus cut her off, the steely resolve returning to his voice. “I’ll go to Europe. I’ll bring him back.”

Rebekah exhaled, relief flooding through her, and she pulled Klaus into a tight hug. She didn’t say anything, just held him as though her arms alone could keep the family from falling apart. He hugged her back, and for a moment, the cracks in their family seemed to close.

Marcel stood behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder and squeezing gently.

When she finally pulled away, Rebekah gave her brother a sad smile. “Be careful.”

Klaus nodded. “I will.”

His eyes flicked to Marcel, and the two men exchanged a knowing look. They both understood how dangerous this was. That if Elijah couldn’t be saved, they might lose him forever.

Or worse... they might have to put him down.

Two members of the Strix walked side by side, their steps echoing off the marble floors. One glanced around nervously, eyeing the high-tech security measures surrounding them, cameras in every corner, reinforced steel doors, layers of magical barriers.

"Is this really necessary? I can't stand being cooped up here. What's the point?" the taller vampire complained, his voice echoing through the empty corridor.

"Protocol," the other replied, his tone bored. "You know how paranoid Tristan can be. But I’m telling you, no one's getting in here. Not even him."

"I don’t get it. We had nothing to do with her death. Why are we hiding?"

"He doesn’t know that." The second vampire shook his head, his eyes flicking toward a monitor displaying multiple feeds from around the compound. “And he doesn’t seem to care about guilt or innocence anymore.”

They stopped at a reinforced door, pressing their palms to the scanners. As the heavy doors slid open, the two shared a final glance, the reality sinking in that even their supposed impenetrable defenses might not be enough.

They stepped into the dim room, illuminated only by the flickering light of the chandelier hanging above a long oak table. Strix members filled the chairs, their faces tense and uneasy. They had gathered in secret, far from prying eyes. Whispers of fear and uncertainty drifted across the room, but no one dared to speak above a murmur. The air was heavy with dread, and no one felt safe.

At the head of the table, Aya stood, her sharp gaze cutting through the room like a blade. She had always been the picture of composure, a pillar of strength, but now, her patience was thinning, her power waning, cracks in her armor where fear leaked through. Beside her, Tristan de Martel leaned casually in his chair, an amused smile playing on his lips, as if this was all a game to him. His eyes scanned the room, taking in the faces of his fellow Strix members, reveling in their discomfort.

“We all know why we’re here,” Aya began, her voice cold and steady, but there was an underlying tension to it, like a string about to snap. “Our ranks are thinning, and the reason is no secret.”

A murmur rippled through the room. Heads turned, glances were exchanged. They knew. Everyone knew.

“Elijah Mikaelson,” Tristan added, his voice smooth and casual, as if he were discussing the weather. His eyes gleamed with a cruel delight. “The noble brother has gone rogue. It seems the death of his beloved has… unraveled him.”

"That's an interesting way of putting it," one Strix member commented, his voice dripping with disdain. "He ripped apart fifty of my men, left a trail of bodies and witnesses, it took me days to cover it all up,"

"And how many vampires has he killed since then? Hundreds? Thousands?" another voice chimed in, sounding bitter.

"You're just scared," another vampire challenged, his tone mocking.

"Of course, we're scared. Do you know what he's capable of?" the first vampire hissed, baring his teeth.

"Silence," Aya ordered, her tone icy. The room fell quiet, the air crackling with tension. "We cannot defeat him, nor can we sit by and wait for him to tear us apart. He has lost his humanity, and it's clear that we must take action."

"We have already taken action and all it does is piss him off," the Strix member grumbled, "I have no interest in fighting a losing battle."

"You're a coward," Aya snarled, her eyes flashing with anger.

"What would you have us do?" another vampire spoke up, their voice strained, "We're no match for him."

"Perhaps we should consider a bargain," Tristan suggested, a sly smirk creeping across his lips. "Find the killer, deliver them to him, and save ourselves the trouble of being murdered."

The members murmured amongst themselves, some seeming open to the idea, while others still appeared wary.

"I cannot fathom why someone would be so foolish. Surely the person who did this knows the repercussions," a member said, a hint of fear in their voice.

Tristan's smile widened. "They were foolish indeed, and now they are the most hunted man, or woman, in the world,"

Aya's face was impassive, her mind racing. She had no doubt that Elijah would tear down the world to find his killer, and if the Strix didn't deliver them, he would do the same to their ranks. Tristan's indifference infuriated her. While he sat there with a smile, the Strix were suffering the consequences of his poor leadership.

A soft little cough pulled her from her thoughts, and she looked up to see a small girl standing at the other end of the table. She looked no older than twelve, with delicate features and wide, doe-like eyes. She looked lost, and this wasn't a place you could just wander into.

Other members noticed her presence and got to their feet, the scraping of chairs echoing off the walls. Aya narrowed her eyes, taking in the girl's appearance.

"Who are you?" Aya asked, her voice sharp.

The girl was clearly terrified, her hands shaking, and she looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Aya found it strange. She didn't sense the power of a witch coming off her, she was just a girl, and a very young one at that.

"I-I'm sorry," the girl stammered, her voice barely a whisper, "I don't know why I'm here. I just woke up here and now, I-I'm scared,"

"How did you get in here?" Aya questioned, her voice low and menacing.

"A nice man told me to come here," the girl mumbled, her eyes darting around the room, taking in the tense, hostile atmosphere. "He wanted me to talk to you."

Aya raised an eyebrow. "And why would he want that?"

The girl shrugged, her eyes brimming with tears. "I don't know, please, I just want to go home,"

"What did he look like?" Aya pressed, her voice growing louder.

"He had dark hair, and brown eyes," the girl sniffled, trying to hold back her sobs.

Tristan's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing dangerously. The room was suddenly silent, the tension now unbearable. Aya stared at the girl, her face an unreadable mask, but inside, her mind was racing.

"What did he want you to say?" Aya asked, her voice quiet, dangerous.

The girl’s breath hitched, her words barely audible. "That... he will give all of you a slow death."

The temperature in the room plummeted, and a cold shiver ran down Aya’s spine. She struggled to hide her unease, but the implication was clear: Elijah had infiltrated their sanctuary.

"A-and that... if I can get in..." The girl gulped, her small voice quaking, "He can too."

The room fell into a suffocating silence as the weight of her words settled on the group. Tristan shot up from his chair, his face dark with fury.

“Lockdown procedures. Now.” Tristan barked, his voice commanding and harsh.

"What about the girl?" Aya asked, her eyes narrowing as she looked at the trembling child. Her instincts told her something wasn’t right.

"Kill her," Tristan spat, his voice cold and merciless. "She’s served her purpose."

The room erupted into chaos. Sirens blared as the compound went into immediate lockdown. The lights flickered, dimming to an eerie glow. The Strix moved quickly, vanishing into the shadows, their bodies blurring as they scattered, heading for safe rooms or exit points.

Aya hesitated for a moment, her gaze still fixed on the girl. She started toward her, but a voice in her head warned her against it. With one last glance, she turned and hurried toward the safe room.

The little girl stood trembling in the darkness, tears streaming down her face. The once-imposing vampires had fled, leaving her all alone in the icy silence.

"It's okay, sweetheart," a voice purred from the shadows, smooth and calming. The girl gasped, her heart racing as she felt a hand on her shoulder, firm yet oddly comforting.

She turned to see a tall man standing behind her, his dark hair framing his sharp features, his kind eyes watching her closely. "Run along now," he said softly, giving her a gentle push toward the door.

The girl nodded quickly, wiping her tears before scampering away, the door sliding shut behind her with a soft hiss.

Elijah watched her go, his kind smile fading as the room returned to darkness. His eyes glinted coldly, the warmth in them vanishing like smoke. Slowly, the veins beneath his eyes darkened, spreading like cracks in the surface of his calm exterior.

He was already inside.

As the sirens echoed, he vanished into the shadows once more, his presence like a gathering storm. And what followed this storm, was pure, unrelenting destruction.

The soft drone of a news broadcast drifted through an abandoned loft, dust floating through the air. The heavy velvet curtains were drawn, the room dark and shadowy, save for the light of a flickering TV. The anchor woman's face was somber, her voice solemn.

“Une tragédie a frappé Paris la nuit dernière... un incendie dévastateur a détruit un immeuble historique, laissant peu de traces de ce qui s’y trouvait. Les autorités locales confirment que l’origine du feu demeure inconnue, mais la rapidité à laquelle il s’est propagé soulève des questions.”

Subtitles scrolled across the bottom of the screen in English: "A tragic accident struck Paris last night... a devastating fire destroyed a historic building, leaving few traces of what was inside. Local authorities confirm that the cause of the fire is unknown, but the speed at which it spread raises questions."

The camera cut to images of the smoldering wreckage. Blackened stone, twisted metal, and fire trucks still spraying water over what little remained.

Elijah wasn't paying attention to the TV anymore; he had his head in his hands, hunched over in a chair, his body wracked with sobs. Bodies were strewn about the room, blood spattered on the walls and floors. A macabre painting of violence and rage. The sight of the lifeless forms weighed heavily on him, a chilling reminder of his own actions.

He didn't know how long he had been there, but it felt like an eternity. Each day blended into the next, the hours stretching into a meaningless void. Days would go by where he felt utterly detached, lost in a sea of grief and loss, and then the anger would return, awakening him to a new trail of bodies. There were so many, too many, and yet it wasn't enough.

“Les témoins affirment avoir vu des ombres avant que l’incendie n’éclate, mais aucune preuve tangible n’a été trouvée. Des sources proches de l’enquête évoquent une possible attaque ciblée, bien que les détails restent flous.”

"Witnesses reported seeing shadows before the fire broke out, but no physical evidence has been found. Sources close to the investigation say there may have been a targeted attack, though details remain unclear."

"You used a child? My love, what has become of you?"

Elijah didn't flinch, didn't react as he felt your arms wrap around his shoulders, your lips pressing a gentle kiss on his cheek. Your voice was soft, tinged with sadness and disappointment. He hated himself for it.

"She's fine," Elijah said, his voice strained, barely able to meet your gaze.

"You don't know that," you sighed, your hands moving to his chest, trying to soothe him. "And you know this isn't the way,"

"There is no other way," he replied, his voice cracking, desperation lacing his words.

"You used an innocent child, one not much older than Hope," you said, a hint of anger breaking through your sadness.

Elijah stiffened. He knew you were right. It didn't make what he did any better, and he felt his self-loathing increase tenfold.

"They killed you; I did what I had to," Elijah defended, but the words felt hollow, a pitiful excuse.

"This isn't the way," you repeated, your voice pleading, "and you don't know who did it, or why. This is all just a guess, a hunch."

He let out another quiet sob, then grabbed his glass of blood and threw it against the wall, the shards falling like crimson rain. He stared at the stain on the wall, watching the liquid trickle down, and he couldn't help but feel a sick sense of satisfaction.

"You have to stop," you whispered, appearing in front of him, your hand cupping his cheek, trying to pull him away from the dark, destructive spiral he was on.

"I can't," he said, his voice breaking, unable to look at you, this ghost haunting him.

"Please," you begged, your hand moving to his neck, gently stroking his skin, trying to comfort him. "I know this pain. It's agony, it's consuming, but I promise you, it will fade."

He pulled you onto his lap, his arms wrapping around you, holding you close, trying to breathe in your scent, to feel your warmth. But he couldn't. You were an echo, a phantom he couldn't grasp.

"You can't bring me back. You know that," you whispered, your voice barely audible, a soft, sad reminder.

He didn't respond, just held you, his fingers digging into your skin, his eyes closed tightly, fighting back tears. He had spent so many nights like this, crying himself to sleep, waking up to nothing, just an empty bed, a cold room, and a hollow, broken heart.

He opened his eyes and let out a gasp as he realized he was clinging to one of the dead bodies on the floor, the vampire's skin gray and decaying, the body long since gone cold.

Elijah released the body and staggered to his feet, his head swimming with despair and self-loathing. His pain and sorrow gave way to anger and frustration, fueling the urge to hurt, to destroy anything and anyone.

"Par ailleurs, une jeune fille a disparu après ne pas être rentrée chez elle. La jeune fille, qui aurait douze ans, a été vue pour la dernière fois dans la zone de l'incendie,"

"In other news, a young girl has gone missing after failing to return home. The girl, who is reported to be twelve years old, was last seen in the area of the fire..."

Elijah snapped, grabbing the TV and throwing it against the wall, the sound of shattering glass echoing through the room. His rage burned bright, a hot, white flame. His heart raced, his breathing ragged, his body shaking with fury.

He wanted to scream, he wanted to kill, but more than anything, he wanted you. He wanted to hold you, to feel your warmth, to hear your voice. He couldn't take it anymore; he was falling apart.

Klaus was never a big croissant fan; he preferred something heartier for breakfast. But here, in France, the flaky pastry seemed to taste infinitely better. Maybe it was the morning sunlight filtering through the café windows or the distant sounds of bustling streets.

He took a sip of his espresso, his eyes scanning the crowded café, absorbing the lively atmosphere. Freya sat across from him, her brow furrowed as she read a spell book, her expression thoughtful.

"Anything in there about wrangling wayward siblings?" Klaus teased, a wry grin playing on his lips.

Freya glanced up, a slight frown creasing her forehead. "That's more your area of expertise."

Klaus let out a huff of laughter. "Fair enough."

Freya’s expression softened, a small smile breaking through. "It will be okay. We'll find him."

Klaus nodded, biting into his croissant, the flakes melting in his mouth. The clatter of dishes and murmurs of conversation surrounded them, along with the distant strains of a busker playing a violin.

"Then what? I’ve never known what to say to him," Klaus said, a hint of sadness in his voice. "He’s always the one with the wise words, not me."

"Honesty is all we have," Freya replied, her tone gentle. "We tell him we miss him, that he’s our brother, and we want him home."

"And that we need to have a funeral, or at least a memorial. Hope is very confused about what happened to her aunt," Klaus added, his gaze drifting to the people walking by the window.

"We'll do it together, as a family," Freya reassured, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. Her touch was gentle, a lifeline in the turmoil. "He needs to know we’re here for him."

"And if he doesn’t want to come back? What then?" Klaus asked, his voice heavy with concern.

"We will cross that bridge when we get to it." Freya pointed at the spell book, her expression brightening. "I’m looking into ways to calm his mind. Perhaps if he can control his rage, he can start to heal."

"I don’t wish to subdue him," Klaus said, frowning. "He deserves the right to his pain, to grieve in his own way."

Freya’s eyes widened, surprised by his response. It wouldn’t be the first time Klaus had tried to force Elijah or the rest of their family into doing things his way. Yet, despite his brashness, she knew Klaus was a man of deep, powerful emotions, capable of empathy.

"What?" Klaus asked, quirking an eyebrow at her.

"You’ve grown," Freya smiled. "It’s good to see."

"Don’t get used to it," Klaus quipped, taking another bite of his croissant and washing it down with a sip of his espresso. "I wish for us to go back to normal, where I’m the problem."

"You’ll never not be a problem, Nik," Freya grinned, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Rude," he scowled.

"But true," she sighed, returning to her book with a smile.

Klaus took another sip of his espresso, his gaze drifting to the TV hanging in the corner. A news broadcast caught his attention, the images of a fire flickering on the screen. He leaned forward, his expression sharpening as he listened intently.

"De nouvelles informations proviennent de l'enquête sur l'incendie du centre-ville de Paris. La police a désormais identifié plus de deux cents corps retrouvés sur les lieux, sans aucune indication pour l'instant du nombre de personnes portées disparues. Il semblerait que les victimes étaient toutes membres de une société privée de conservation d'œuvres d'art, possédant des participations dans plusieurs pays. Alors que les autorités enquêtent toujours sur la cause de l'incendie, il a été suggéré que l'incendie avait été allumé délibérément.”

"There is new information coming in from the investigation into the fire in downtown Paris. Police have now identified more than two hundred bodies recovered from the scene, with no indication yet of how many are still missing. It's believed the victims were all members of a private art curation company, with holdings in several countries. While authorities are still investigating the cause of the blaze, it's being suggested the fire was set deliberately."

Klaus’s stomach dropped, a familiar dread creeping in. The timing was too convenient, and this 'art curation company' sounded like a cover for a secret society. He gestured to the screen, espresso still in hand, splashing a few drops onto the table. "Looks like a place for us to visit, wouldn’t you say?"

Freya looked up, her brow furrowing. "Do you think Elijah has anything to do with it?"

"If this organization is the Strix -sorry, was the Strix- then absolutely," Klaus replied, a grim smile forming on his lips. "Perhaps they gave him the answers he was looking for. Answers we weren’t able to find."

"I can’t imagine it would have been a pleasant reunion," Freya sighed, shaking her head. "I can’t say I blame him."

Klaus’s smile faded. He had tried his best, searching for months through the ashes of Elijah’s rage. He had gone from city to city, country to country, even continent to continent. And now, as he stood on the brink of discovery, he couldn’t help but wonder what condition Elijah would be in when they finally found him.

"Well then, no point in wasting any more time," Klaus said, taking a final sip of his espresso.

Freya nodded, closing her book, quickly downing her coffee before stealing the last bite of Klaus’s croissant, earning a playful glare.

"Oi!" he growled, "I was going to eat that."

"Too slow, brother," she smirked.

Klaus rolled his eyes and stood, tossing a wad of cash on the table without bothering to count. The two of them hurried out, the waiter shaking his head as he picked up the money and Klaus's empty plate.

"Americans," he muttered under his breath.

The site of the fire was a blackened husk, the acrid smell of smoke still heavy in the air. Klaus and Freya walked along the sidewalk, watching the firefighters douse the smoldering remains with water. Distant sirens echoed, a haunting reminder of the chaos that had unfolded.

"Can't believe it's still burning," Klaus mused, a slight frown on his face.

"Must have been quite the inferno," Freya remarked, her expression thoughtful.

"Magic?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No, I don't sense any," Freya said, shaking her head. "Whoever started it didn't use magic."

Klaus glanced at her, a smirk on his lips. "I thought you didn't think Elijah had anything to do with it?"

Freya shrugged. "Maybe he did, maybe he didn't."

Klaus wrinkled his nose, his keen sense of smell picking up the lingering scent of blood beneath all the ash and smoke. Human, vampire, a mix of the two. The fire had raged through the night, burning hot and fast, devouring everything in its path.

"I do sense death, though," Freya murmured, her brow furrowing, her expression darkening. "Lots of it."

"Well, I can't imagine there'll be much left for us to find, considering how thorough my brother is," Klaus muttered, his gaze roving over the ruined buildings, his stomach sinking.

"Why are you so sure it was him?" Freya asked, her eyes narrowing.

"Because I can smell his cologne, no1 passant guardant," Klaus replied, wrinkling his nose.

"Kinda weird that you can smell that, Nik," Freya smirked, giving him a sideways glance.

"I'm a hybrid, love; it's one of my many gifts," Klaus replied, his tone matter-of-fact.

Freya shook her head, a wry grin on her lips, suppressing a giggle as she watched her brother sniff the air, his eyes closed, his expression one of intense concentration.

"Could be someone else with the same taste in cologne; you never know," she teased, nudging him with her elbow.

"It’s very difficult to come by; only a handful of stores carry it," Klaus muttered, ignoring her teasing. "And... she bought it for him just before... you know."

"Ah," Freya's expression softened, her amusement replaced by a mix of sadness and understanding.

Klaus opened his eyes, his gaze sweeping over the destruction once more, the weight of grief settling on his shoulders. He missed you. Your laughter, your wit, the way you could put him in his place. He admired your loyalty, your strength, and how much you loved his brother.

"What are you thinking about?" Freya asked, her voice quiet and cautious.

"Our departed sister-in-law... the cause of all of this," Klaus said, a sad smile on his lips.

"You can't blame her, you know," Freya murmured, her eyes filled with understanding and sympathy. "I miss her too."

"It's hard to be reminded, is all," Klaus replied, a hint of pain in his voice.

Freya gave him a soft, sympathetic smile, her hand gently squeezing his shoulder. "You know... I never learned how they met," she said, trying to steer the conversation toward something less melancholy.

Klaus laughed, shaking his head. "Oh, it's quite a tale, and some parts I'm not privy to. But I can tell you that she was a novice in a convent," he began, a sparkle in his eye.

"A nun?!" Freya exclaimed, her eyebrows shooting up.

"Indeed, although she hadn't taken her vows," Klaus chuckled, amused by the surprised look on her face.

"So, what happened? How did they end up together?" Freya asked, intrigued.

"For all parties involved, it was quite a dramatic affair," Klaus continued, a wistful smile forming on his lips. "But we have more important things to focus on, don't you think?"

Freya sighed, rolling her eyes. "You're no fun."

Klaus let out a huff of laughter and returned to focusing on the scents around him, trying to find a trail, something that might lead him to his brother. He caught the faintest whiff of blood, the scent leading away from the fire, and deeper into the city.

"This way," he said, striding confidently down a street, away from the site of the fire.

Freya hurried to catch up, her long legs making short work of the distance, her boots clattering on the cobblestone streets.

"How can you be so sure?" Freya asked, falling in step beside him, her voice low and cautious.

"I just am," Klaus said, his tone brooking no argument. "That bloody cologne of his is everywhere. No one else has such atrocious taste in fragrances."

"Nik..." Freya cautioned, her tone warning, her gaze flickering to the passersby, making sure no one was eavesdropping. "We don't know what's waiting for us. We can't just charge in."

"I know; that's why you are going in first, my dear sister," Klaus smirked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Nik," Freya protested, her expression indignant.

"Don't worry, I'll be right behind you," Klaus grinned, giving her a playful nudge as they rounded a corner.

The two of them came to a stop outside an old building, its stone façade crumbling, the windows boarded up. Klaus gestured for Freya to go in, and with a roll of her eyes, she did.

"This place is creepy," she muttered, her boots echoing on the cracked tile floor.

"There's blood, a lot of it," Klaus said, sniffing the air, his eyes closed, his body tensed. "Upstairs."

They made their way up an old spiral staircase, the steps creaking under their feet. They reached a landing; the hallway was dark and narrow.

"Down there," Klaus said, pointing at a closed door at the end of the hall.

Freya nodded and slowly approached the door, her senses alert, her magic tingling under her skin. It was eerily quiet; the silence weighed heavy in the air, pressing down on her.

She stopped at the door, her hand hovering over the handle. She looked back at Klaus, his expression calm and composed, but she could sense his nervousness, his apprehension.

"Ready?" she whispered.

Klaus gave her a curt nod. Freya took a deep breath and turned the handle, the door opening with a creak.

"Elijah?"

The two of them were met with the sight of a massacre: body parts strewn across the room, blood splattered on the walls.

Freya gasped and took a step back, Klaus's hand gripping her shoulder. His eyes roved over the carnage, landing on a lone figure in the middle of the room, standing motionless.

"Elijah," Klaus breathed.

His brother was wearing an old T-shirt and jeans, tattered and bloodstained, covered in dirt. His hair was matted and wild, his eyes haunted, the light dimmed within them.

Klaus and Freya stepped inside, careful not to slip on the blood, the floor sticky and wet. They approached Elijah slowly, his gaze fixed on the severed arm in his hand, his eyes dull and lifeless.

"Brother?" Klaus said, his voice barely above a whisper, his hand reaching out.

"You are not real," Elijah murmured, not taking his eyes off the limb, his expression vacant and distant.

"Elijah, we're here," Freya said gently. "It's time to come home."

"I won't be fooled again," Elijah hissed, his grip tightening on the severed arm.

Klaus took a tentative step forward, one arm stretched behind him to protect Freya, the other held out, placating and non-threatening. "We're not illusions, brother," he said softly, reassuringly.

"Freya," Elijah breathed, his head snapping up, his gaze finding hers.

"Yes, Elijah, it's me," she replied, giving him a gentle smile.

He blinked, his eyes flicking from her face to Klaus's, his brow furrowing. "Have you found a way to bring her back?"

Klaus and Freya exchanged glances, their expressions sad and resigned. It wasn't something Freya wanted to do... to tap into such dark magic. She had been searching for you on the other side but found no trace. She believed you had found peace, and to tear you away from that would be a cursed, evil thing, an affront to the balance between life and death.

"Elijah, there's no way, not without consequence," Klaus said, his tone firm, his eyes filled with regret. "We discussed this."

Elijah dropped the severed arm, his hands clenching into fists. "You're wrong. There is a way."

"Elijah," Freya began, but he cut her off.

"Bring her back," he demanded, his eyes burning with intensity.

"I can't," Freya said, her voice quiet and regretful. "I'm sorry, Elijah. She's gone; she's at rest."

"No, no, no," Elijah growled, his hands coming up to grip his hair, tugging at the roots, his chest heaving, eyes wild.

"Brother, she's in a better place," Klaus tried, his tone firm and reassuring. "I think it's time you come home... You need to let her go."

Elijah shook his head, his breathing ragged, his whole body trembling. "No, no, no," he chanted, his eyes darting around the room, looking for something.

"Elijah," Freya murmured, her brow furrowed, her expression concerned. "Please, come with us. She wouldn't want this for you."

"No, no, no!" he growled, his voice echoing off the blood-spattered walls, his face contorted in a mask of rage.

He grabbed a nearby table and threw it against the wall, the sound of splintering wood reverberating through the air.

"Bloody hell," Klaus growled, grabbing Freya and yanking her backward, shielding her with his body.

Elijah lunged at them, his fangs bared, a murderous look in his eyes. He tackled Klaus, sending them both crashing into the wall, the plaster cracking under the impact.

"Nik!" Freya exclaimed, her magic sparking at her fingertips.

"Elijah, you've gone mad," Klaus grunted, shoving him away, sending him careening across the room. "She's dead."

"Niklaus," Elijah growled, his body vibrating with anger, the haunted, hollow look in his eyes replaced by raw, unhinged rage. "Bring. Her. Back."

"We can't, and you know it," Klaus spat, his eyes flashing yellow, his face shifting into the hybrid’s feral features. "She's at peace, Elijah. We need to let her go."

"I won't, I can't," Elijah raged, his body trembling, his eyes filling with unshed tears that threatened to spill over. His voice broke. "How can you ask me to do that?"

Freya’s heart clenched at the sight of her brother unraveling, his usual restraint shattered. "Come home, please," Freya pleaded, her eyes welling with tears, her voice thick with desperation. "We can help you."

Elijah's chest heaved, his wild eyes shifting from Klaus to Freya, barely recognizing them. "Get out," he growled, the words vibrating through the bloodstained room. His gaze locked on Klaus, his voice turning into a vicious snarl. "GET OUT!"

Klaus stared at him for a moment, his expression conflicted. Freya watched him pull a silver dagger out of his pocket, the familiar glint of the cursed weapon that had subjugated their family time and time again. She hadn't even known he had brought one with him, and her heart clenched at the sight. She didn’t want this for either of them. But given Elijah's state, she knew it was necessary.

"I'm sorry, Elijah," Klaus said, his voice solemn. He rushed forward, his movements a blur, and before Elijah could react, he buried the blade in his brother’s chest. The gasp Elijah let out echoed in the empty, ravaged room. The look on his face was heartbreaking, a mixture of shock and pain. Klaus had to steel himself against the emotion threatening to overtake him, reminding himself it was for the best, for all of them.

"Rest now, brother," Klaus murmured, pulling him into a tight embrace, cradling his body as Elijah slumped, his strength leaving him. His big brother, the north star of the family, now lost to grief.

"I thought you didn't want to subdue him," Freya whispered, her voice shaky, her eyes wide with shock as she pressed a trembling hand against her mouth.

"It was a last resort," Klaus said, his voice thick with emotion, trying and failing to hide the crack in his composure. "I couldn't bear seeing him like this any longer. I didn't think... he would be so... unhinged."

"He's grieving," Freya said softly, her eyes filled with sympathy as she knelt beside them, brushing a hand through Elijah’s matted hair. "He loves her, Nik. Losing her... it's broken him."

"I know," Klaus muttered, his arms tightening around Elijah, holding him close as if he could protect him from the demons he was fighting inside. His voice cracked, and before he could stop it, a tear slipped down his cheek. Quickly, he wiped it away, trying to maintain his strength.

"Time to go home," Klaus said, his voice barely above a whisper, thick with sorrow. "For all of us."

Freya reached out, gently taking Elijah's limp hand in hers, squeezing it tight as they prepared to leave the nightmare behind. She hoped and prayed that Elijah could feel her love through the numbness, that somewhere, deep within the wreckage of his mind, he knew they would never give up on him.

That the battle to bring you back hadn’t been in vain. It had only just begun.

{Part Two}{Part Three}{Part Four}{Part Five}{Part Six}

[kekeke32]

TOUCHSTARVED trailer theme theory??

Hi guys, hi everyone. Hope we’re doing well!

SO the full version of the trailer theme is finally out on YouTube and holy shit??? It goes so HARD!!! Give it a listen here.

After rewatching it over and over again, I noticed something so I’ll map out which lyrics appear with which character for y’all to see:

Wish I could’ve added more ss but I’m on the mobile app 🥲 Anyways, I really don’t think the dev team added the characters photos randomly ‘cause check this out:

In Ais’s part, the lyrics are about a certain weakness (ik the lyrics “my weakness” refer to a person but I chose to ignore that jskdksk) and survival. This may be a reach BUT doesn’t this reminds you of Ais’s official character description? Specifically of this part: “Ais seems capable of curing you...but a sick sense of dread surrounds him. He's beginning to suspect that he may not be as in control of his powers as he thought. Can you save each other, or will he drag you down to the abyss with him?" This so-called “weakness” could be his very own powers and he’ll need the player to help him, to “survive”.

Now, about Vere’s part, I don’t have much to say tbh other than the fact that the lyrics “Cause everytime we touch” appear for the first time in his part and I guess you could say it’s related to his frequenting at the brothel? (iykwim 😏) Oh! And you could also see him being touched by a lot of different hands in the trailer. Besides that, his part ends with the lyrics “need you by my side” sung softly by the singer hmm…

Kuras’s part on the other hand, starts strongly (I suck balls at describing music so pls listen 4 urselves, you’ll know what I mean😭) and at 1:59 mins the lyrics are “Cause everytime we touch” then his face darkens a little and it stars an instrumental interlude. I don’t know what that really means but he’s sus

Mhin’s part is sung very softly as well and the lyrics “We’ve been through them all. You make me rise when I fall” are so sweet more so because I think in their route they’ll open up more to the player after going together through incomprehensible horrors and we’ll learn how to support each other <33

Finally, Leander’s part!! Now, LISTEN. His part is the reason why I even made this post in the first place lmao This mf is way too sus but first of all, the building synth progression at 2:58???? oh my god I got CHILLS. literal chills. *ahem* Moving on, his part, starts strongly the same as Kuras’s part did. Their parts are the only ones sung like that… Weird, huh? Anyway, after the lyrics “I can’t let you go. Want you in my life” at 3:49, the song gets SUPER intense and starts sounding very desperate ig?? (kudos to Dan! love his voice frfr) and Leander’s part ends with “Need you by my side”. Okayy y'all… Y'ALL. THIS IS CRAZY. In his part we have both the lyrics "I can't let you go. Want you in my life" AND "I want this to last. Need you by my side". AHHHH Leander you obsessed little bitch (affectionate)

In conclusion, there’s no fucking way the red spring team didn’t assign the certain parts of the lyrics very and I mean VERY purposefully to each LI. The parts suit them specifically well so I highly doubt it’s random but it could also just be me reading too much into this

Whatever!!! Good morning/Good night to this fandom only ^_^

[brittle-doughie]

Introducing the Y/N plush! And the cookies and what they do with said plush!

The cookie in the second image are, shining glitter, pomegranate, chess choco twins, golden cheese, caramelon, custard the lll, black pearl, licorice, lychee, komiho, Affogato, lilac, onion, stardust, space doughnut, timekeeper, shadow milk, white lily, snap dragon, pitya, abyss monarch and fire spirit. And if your wondering, the two drawings took 6 hours total-)

The Earthbread Big Seller!

I can tell which of the two took you the longest. I would like to know what it says next to Snapdragon if you can!

“Amazing Y/N Plush! Collect your very own doll to keep. Be the first one on your block to own the amazing new Y/N Plush! Please do not fight over them!”

[A large line had formed at Butterbear’s shop! Cookies of the sea and sky have emerged too to get their very own plush!]

Many fans had considered Shining Glitter’s latest show to be one of her best! She couldn’t take all of the credit though, she had help!

She cuddled close the Y/N plush she had next to her mic stand. She can count on it to allow her to give it her all, as if Y/N themself was watching her!

Having her own plush hold up a mirror for her to help fix her hair up already made itself more useful to Pomegranate than a certain cookie in the CoD.

She took a quick look around before she took it with her to bed, dozing off with the plushie clutched tightly in her arms.

The Chess Choco duo loved that they now have an observer to their chess games in the form of their own Y/N plush! They didn’t expect one or the other to pull anything tricky, but it was nice to have some sort of reassurance that no sneaky tactics came into play!

They split the time in half with how much each of the two got to have the plush. It doesn’t stop disputes from breaking out that had Earl Grey stepping in from time to time!

One of Golden Cheese Cookie’s favorite things to do with her Y/N plush would be to dress it up in whatever amount of riches she can put on it the little doll.

One of her favorite outfits for it is one that makes the plush look like a resident of her own kingdom, complete with wings to match hers. Something she has planned for the real deal when she gets the opportunity!

Carameleon Cookie was so stoked to have a buddy to call his own within the forested areas close to the Silver Kingdom. It sure beats being alone all the time!

He can tell you that he isn’t too attached to the thing as he waits for the actual Y/N Cookie to come by. He just..doesn’t want to lose it, okay?!

It was good to have one of his loyal subjects always around to listen what he had to say! Even if it was just a plush version of them, Custard Cookie III could spend minutes just talking to the plush as if it were a real cookie!

It’s why he considers it as one of his best subjects in the kingdom! Right behind the real Y/N Cookie, of course!

Black Pearl’s Y/N plush is nothing short of the best thing to ever grace her waters. It was down to the very last detail the cookie of her dreams had.

She’d never tire of it, acting protective over the plush, something she’d be more aggressively so if the real Y/N Cookie was with her! The plush will look amazing within her dwelling!

Licorice Cookie didn’t care about Pomegranate’s venom spewing mouth these days, not when he has his bestest friend, the Y/N plush, with him!

He can truly confide his secrets and feelings towards the little plush, like his feelings towards Y/N Cookie, but it better not blab to you! He even uses the plush as a guardian for his diary!

Ha! Why wait in line for a plush when Lychee Dragon could just swipe it from that fumbler, Kumiho Cookie! She didn’t appreciate Y/N Cookie enough, so why not give it to a dragon that certainly will!

Kumiho was not having it though, angrily coming after the dragon for stealing her darling in plush form! She did not let Lychee’s lies get to her, she’s taking back that plush!

Affogato Cookie could just monologue all day to his plush on how he plans to take over the throne one day and Y/N Cookie will join him as part of that dream!

He’d promise nothing but the best life for you with a luxurious life with no worries or limits as he went to caress the plush’s cheek. The best victory would be to have you for himself while that Caramel Arrow Cookie watched! He can’t stop giggling to himself about it!

With how popular these plushies were getting, Lilac was particularly watchful of his. He already called it his own with the lilac scent and he’ll bring down anyone swiping his plush from him.

He always keeps it on his person, both as a precaution and that he has easy access to it to hold and cuddle close when he’s needy. It’s what he would’ve done to the actual Y/N Cookie.

Blackberry Cookie can always count on Y/N Cookie to help settle down Onion during one of her crying bouts, she enjoyed the company from them too. So it was a total win when she received a plush for herself and for Onion.

Onion always liked to go to bed holding both her doll and plushie to ensure a good night’s rest without the fear of a nightmare waking her up, for she trusts the Y/N plush to help her even in her dreams.

Stardust doesn’t mind sharing his Y/N plushie with his friend, Space Doughnut. After all, they share the same trait of seeing Y/N Cookie as a dear friend. Space Doughnut was just as trusting with theirs to Stardust as well!

Space Doughnut does get overly excited when they could play around with BOTH plushies, making Stardust laugh with a smile as Doughnut happily played the two plushies.

Was it really any surprise that Timekeeper Cookie wanted to be greedy and have a number of Y/N plushies? They’re her favorite, why wouldn’t she take them? It wasn’t like the original owners could prove anything against her.

Timekeeper Cookie cuddled herself amidst her plushies without a care in the world, relishing in seeing the face of the cookie she liked all around her. Though it wouldn’t hurt to try and grab a couple more to her collection…and then Y/N Cookie themself!

Shadow Milk’s puppet show was going to be wonderful with the guest of honor being Y/N Cookie themself! Almost! He was able to obtain a plushie from one of his clown faeries and he was absolutely adoring it!

The plushie is always going to be a part of his puppet shows, interacting with a doll of himself that he made. How romantic it would be if the two stuffed dolls danced and smushed together to replicate a kiss! It even made Shadow Milk himself blush at the thought of you and him possibly doing that too~

One of the faeries had gently opened White Lily’s glass case, placing down a Y/N plush they had gotten for her. She immediately grabbed it and clutched it tight close to her, a smile on her face being the indicator that she liked the plush already.

One of the faeries had gotten curious about what made this plushie so dear to her as she reached for it and tried to pull it out of her arms. She had to quickly reel her hand back when White Lily swiped at it, nuzzling the plushie closer to her body, shielding it from any further attempts.

Pitaya Dragon Cookie didn’t expect Snapdragon to enjoy their Y/N plush that much to the point that they whined for Pitaya to hand it over to them. While this was meant to be for Pitaya only, they didn’t mind it as they give it to the young dragon.

Snapdragon immediately swiped it up and flies around with the doll in their arms, babbling happily as they played around with the stuff toy. Pitaya couldn’t help but smile at the sight, it was just like when Y/N Cookie would play with Snapdragon themself…

Abyss Monarch Cookie didn’t find themself going out much, especially for something as small as a stuffed plush. Yet there they were, having went out and gotten a Y/N to call their own.

This sense of adoration they start to feel for this plush was almost on the same level as they had for Y/N Cookie themself. They gently picked it up and spun slowly around with it, was this feeling a sign and not a temporary emotion? This feeling of…longing…

Fire Spirit was so stoked to have receive his own plush that he couldn’t wait to have simmer down first before messing around with it, too enveloped in his own that his hands start to emit smoke touching the plush.

He started to freak out when he open his eyes to see that he had turned the plush into a pile of ash, crying in anguish as he tried to salvage what he can. He went back to Butterbear Cookie with the news and he was generous enough to give him a replacement, warning him to be more careful next time!

[kyunniebuns]

˗ˏˋ Self Aware Jinwoo vs Sylus x Fem! Reader ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

・┆✦ Entry : 038 ✦ ┆・

‼️[ TW: stalking, obsession, yandere Jinwoo au, dissing on sylus i dont hate him this is for content. ]

╰┈➤ ❝ [ Darkness? No. I Am The Abyss Itself.] ¡! ❞

He knew that fucker was trouble the moment he saw you drool over him. Jinwoo didnt do anything at first, he hasn't completely swallowed the system on your phone.

And yet everytime, you prioritize that grandfather looking asshole over him.

What's so interesting about him anyway? That he runs a damn mafia wannabe faction with a tacky name?

He's rich? Yeah and? So is he. So what the hell?

As Jinwoo tried to fight through the system that trapped him in this damn trance, he watches you turn your attention to a man with silver hair— Your heart beating for him.

It made Jinwoo so infuriated, the way that fucker makes you smile. The way that old man dares to steal something that was his from the very first place.

He's been with you far longer than that bastard ever did so how come you're suddenly abandoning him for a man that calls you 'Kitten'?

He's always there for you, watching over you, he accompanied you through your most stressful days. Jinwoo was the first, the precious box in your heart was always for him to stay in. So why is there another guy threatening to kick him off of his place?

Why?

Why?

WHY?

Isn't he enough? He leveled up so hard already, he went through wars to see that face of yours light up— So why? Is it because the novel version of him had a bride? Is that why?

Fuck.

That's a different Jinwoo.

That Jinwoo is a fool, this Jinwoo is all yours.

It was making him mad, the more he spent time in that tiny cage of codes in him— The more he spirals as you pull away from him.

Those precious eyes that had always been there for him, those orbs that gazed so lovingly at him— Jinwoo feels so him in your eyes.

When you look at him, he was Jinwoo.

Not the shadow monarch.

Not the strongest hunter.

He was just Jinwoo.

So why?

Why must you replace him just like that? Is he that forgettable? Is he that easy to replace?

Was your love for him so shallow all this time?

As he slumps on his prison, black tears would pool in his eyes.

He was silent for a while, almost beating himself into letting you go.

It's okay.

It had always been a crush.

It's fine.

What is he acting like a heartbroken teenager for anyway?

If it makes you happy, then that was alright. All that matters is that you are healthy and happy.

After all, if you love someone, shouldn't you set them free? Shouldn't you choose to let them go and chase after happiness?

As long as your pretty little face isn't weeping, as long as your little heart is protected then it should be alright.

Even though he wanted to be the only person in your eyes, even though he wanted to be the only person in your precious heart.

Jinwoo is no longer your darling.

The memories you built with him are no more.

All of the affections that have grown have come undone.

His little kingdom in your dreams has already come apart.

Jinwoo already lost you, he barely managed to protect what is his outside of this lonely prison.

Everything that is his gone.

He really should be fine with it.

He should be.

He should be.

......

But when he saw Sylus kidnap you into another world, he went mad, his prison instantly went berserk.

The green code suddenly turned into monarch purple, the shadows that he thought he lost suddenly came swirling beneath him.

How dare that fucker try to play the role of the grim reaper by kidnapping you in darkness?

How dare that santa in dark-mode looking asshole frighten you like that?

How dare he make you flinch like that and to top it off that bastard dared to touch your lips.

Those lips that belongs to him were stolen.

That woman he protected from nightmares is being taken.

Jinwoo's blood rushed as a vein popped on Jinwoo's jaw.

He's the shadow monarch for fuck's sake.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

Becoming Sylus's trophy girlfriend/wife whatever... Was quite the experience.

Spoiled.

Pampered.

The most delicious food at your fingertips.

And luxury goods you could have only dreamed of in your previous life were at your beck and call.

Sylus's black card?

All your for you to take whenever you wish.

You could buy all of of Linkon at this point.

The man allowed you to travel around Linkon to admire it's pristine beauty. N109 zone is too risky to explore so he lets you enjoy yourself in the city.

But somehow, you swear you're becoming a little too anxious these days. It feels as though a pair of eyes are watching you.

You try to brush it off as it's just Mephisto following you wherever.

But the more the shivers happen, the more paranoid you became.

It was as if the shadows were watching you.

Shadows.

Funny.

Suddenly, the image of Jinwoo would come back to your head.

Your fear of the dark disappeared because you thought Jinwoo would be there for you.

After all, he is the lord of the shadows.

But anyway, all of that is in the past. You have Sylus now.

"So you do remember me."

A voice suddenly rings out, making you drop the glass you were holding and it shattered on the floor.

"Now, now, sarang." The nickname rolls out of the stranger's tongue and a hand gently graps your fingers, intertwining your fingers together. "Careful there, love. You'll get hurt."

You look up at the tall figure and you instantly recognize who it was.

Jinwoo.

"Hm, at least the bastard was generous enough to make you more plump than compared to when you were alone. "Jinwoo hums, swiping his finger on your bottom lip and he pecks it affectionately, "Your prettier you are up close than you are behind that screen in my prison."

"Bold of you to dare touch someone else's prey" Sylus's voice snarled as he aimed a gun at Jinwoo's head from behind. "She was mine first when you decided to come in and screw up shit." Jinwoo replies, the edge of his dagger against the man's neck.

"Boss!" Kieran and Luke's panicked voices come into the room, bursting in as they held their weapons.

"We're sorry, we didn't see him come in" Luke apologizes, preparing to aim at Jinwoo.

"It's fine, this bastard is just a slippery worm" Sylus says, pressing the mouth of the gun further, ready to shoot.

"So you're bringing those two little mice to our little fight? I'd like for you to meet my kids then." Jinwoo snickers, smirking as he presses the blade further and the side of Sylus's neck would bleed. "Arise."

The shadows would hum, snarling even as the darkness whispered and solidified into multiple beastly creatures. Ten? No. Maybe there was more as the ceiling had a bunch of heads peaking out— Starving to get a taste of human flesh.

"Ah, I forgot you're a troublesome necromancer" Sylus snickers.

"W-wait!" You panicked voice comes out, squeezing yourself between the two and pushing them apart.

"Kitten?"

"Sarang?"

"You can't, no!" You protest, panicking. "I-I'll run away if you do!"

It was a ridiculous thing to do, run away? From what? A shadow Monarch and the Leader of Onychinus?

But somehow the two men were silent looking at eachother before clicking their tongues and complied.

"Stand down."

"Beru, don't touch the rascals"

Beru clicks his antlers, as if pouting as he moved away from the twins.

"Y-you can't fight, not like this!" You say, trying to get the both of them to ease up.

"Then how do you expect us to do this?" Jinwoo crosses his arms, hiding his dagger away.

"Kitten, if you dont want us at eachother's throat then at least make something up."

"Well..."

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

"......"

"......"

And that's the story of how you managed to sit down two scary men on a table playing... Kitty cards.

It's not a bad idea really, whoever wins gets to date you. Not so bad.

Minus the fact that the two kept on getting ties because they are both highly intelligent and calculated idiots that they just deflect one another.

What?

They're both cat boys anyway.

One is a grumpy white cat.

One is a grumpy black cat.

"Woooh, let's go boss! Kick his ass!" Luke and Kieran cheers with their pompoms.

"Kieek, my liege you must win this game!!!" Beru says, his little head hovering on his shoulder.

"You all shut up before I tear you apart myself"

Wow...

Even the way they shut people up is the same.

Jinwoo: You goddamn santa claus wannabe that cup was mine. Sylus: I don't see your name in it. Sylus: Did you just remove my cat with that damn assist card? Jinwoo: That's what you get for being born.

꒰ 🪼 A/N: What? You expected another ending huh? How's that? /j. I wanted to make a crack fic at last because the idea of sitting down two crazy ah bastards to play kitty cards and just reduce them to 2 little shits just insulting eachother is funny and I'm here for it xD!!! ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧･ﾟ: ~♡ — All stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[cutieeva]

Love of immortal

Female reader

Warnings : Kidnap. Minor injuries. Molestation. Mention of rape.

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒

Mermaids, sirens and more mystic creatures belongs to myth but more importantly came from ocean adding another layer of mystery to the ocean than it was already to (Y/N) who dislike oceans for petty reasons but it was the creature lurking under the ocean who consume her in the end.

Ocean. For some it's the peace of water that calms and erase their hard version of reality while for others a symbol of nightmare where tragic acts occur to horror them however (Y/N) somehow falls on the between of category. She neither has love or horror nor despise rather she merely dislike the ocean. Why ? Any actions or tragedy ? None rather she doesn't perceive ocean safe only because it is a mystery itself. She often find herself comparing abyss and ocean because neither of it has any predict of dept and once stare too much it can consume you. She pretty much fears the mystery lurking underneath the picturesque waters when bleamed by the golden rays from above the skies.

However who would ever predict that (Y/N) one day will be sitting on a cabin cruiser boat along side her older brother's family.

"Aunty ! Aunty ! Look at the gold fishes !" Her adorable five aged nephew cheerfully point at the little fishes swimming their ways.

"Yea, Yea". Her shoulders shrug glancing at the pretty ocean creatures yet a unknown shivers tense her spine just staring at the dept of water. An alarm inkling creep within her stomach making her (E/C) eyes avert to the lovey dovey couple.

"They pretty much brought me because they wanted a free babysitter. I am sure". Irritated she scoff earning her brother's attention.

"What ? Stop being so bitter just because you had to come in place of dad and mom". She rolled her eyes remembering how heartlessly they are traveling around the earth together leading them to turn down their son's invitation to the cabin cruiser boat he was offered by the company due to his excellence performance however they are family of three and they wanted no outsider to invade their holiday where they are free to be themselves and enjoy the blessed time choosing (Y/N) who is single, on her holiday and have nothing better to do. She was a substitute to her parent's place and abducted from the safety of her four wall she calls home by her brother only to watch their public affection and monitor their child.

"Shut up before I fucking cut your throat". Not holding back she cursed after placing her hands over the innocent boy's ears. Her brother, Anton click his tongue in annoyance while his wife, Maria who (Y/N) very much have connection alike an sister chuckles.

"You know I married you for your sister's company ?" She teased making her husband's mouth agap and catch her waist only for her to slip through his hands and playfully step back.

"What the ?" He tried to catch again only to lose turning it into a cat and mouse catching game where the couple laughed heartily.

"Ren want to ! Ren wants to play too ! Ren wants to play too !" Her nephew adressed himself as third person join to play the game too chasing his father. The scene evolving in front of (Y/N) won a laughter over her lips. The adorable family stare at her melody like laugh unable to seal their happiness too. Transformating the distant air to mellow unaware that caught the eyes of an mystic.

"How about I also catch aunty ?" In playful tone her brother presented went towards her to catch which ended him with a punch on his face.

"Don't". She snort watching his face twist into deep frown.

"How cruel". He commented

"Look who's talking". She remarked.

"Wifey, I am wounded. Please help me". Faux a sad tone he layed on his wife's embrace curling himself small when in (Y/N)'s view he looked like an bear trying to fit on top of an human.

"Yikes ! What a rubbish".

"Ouch ! Wound me again".

"Eww". Regret lace her voice on how on earth this grown man is her brother instead of an cool gentleman she saw others have. She side eyed the man getting coaxed by her sister-in-law who looks glad.

"What a teriffying thing love is". She shake her head to which her open (H/C) hair flow at the rhythm of cold breeze sparing a certain someone her entire view.

"Oh look !" (Y/N) eyes follow Maria's finger pointing to the ocean.

"An dolphin". Excitement sparkle Ren's eyes making (Y/N)'s eyes wide knowing exactly what this little trouble about to do.

"Ren stop". Despite her warning the oblivious child race to the railing tempt to touch the creature he finds fascinating, his little hands raise to cross the railing before (Y/N) caught his wrist. "Ren don't !" She yelled hugging the boy closely noticing how not one but tons of dolphin are either side of their ship.

"What in the world....?" A dread fill her stomach counting at least twenty or more dolphins surround their ship. "Anton, Maria stay away from the railing for now—MARIA !" She turn her head to find the woman reach her hand to pet the aquatic mammal.

Still cradling the boy she hastily slap her sister-in-law's wrist away. An inch. An inch was their gap she realized calming her pumping heart.

"(Y/N) ! What's your deal ? Why did you overreact ? Maria simply wanted to touch the dolphins also isn't it safe to pet them if they approach you first ?" Anton glare at his sister rubbing his wife's skin lightly.

"You are blind. Can't you see how many dolphins have surround us ? It's an alarming rate to ignore. Also as much as it's fine to pet. You can only do if you are a professional because only they know how to react to their behaviors not us !" (Y/N) glare back, guarding her sister-in-law as she watched in disfavor to the dolphins that tilted it's head. "And their sensitive parts are usually melon means forehead, eyes and blowhold and if petted could result to serious injury". She added noting how the group of dolphins are swimming in circle manner within themselves.

"Something is wrong. Very wrong". She narrowed her eyes at the dolphins she isn't much fond due to their another less known pet name 'the gangster of the ocean' since their behaviors doesn't match their innocence alike appearance where they forcefully rape other female dolphins, use pufferfish as their play toy resulting their deaths, mess with sharks for amusement and such. As much as they are intelligent enough to save a human as well as to drown one too.

"What are they doing ? Only dolphins are surrounding us not other fishes". Unease followed trying to find an answer for their pattern that might be normal yet something, something brewing inside her says otherwise.

"Just calm down and rest, we must not provoke them then they will go in their merry way". Maria tested to cheer up yet failed seeing her frown deepen so she nudged her husband.

"What ?" He whispered leaning near her.

"Do something !"

"What can I do when she is a grumpy cat". He groan when she hit him on his ribs.

"It was a command, mister". She smirked.

"(Y/N) it's alright, there is nothing to worry sometimes dolphins tend to circle around the ships, boats as a sign of protection or curiosity". The (H/C) haired woman nod remembering indeed she read that in an article at her brother's word.

"Okay. Also forgive me for suddenly slapping your wrist and yelling". Guilty weight on her voice as she apologized.

"It's alright. You were doing for our own sakes". Maria smiled revealing her side dimple.

"Still stop being a worrywart". Anton not forget to comment loving his sister's muttering curses. (Y/N) sighing stretch her head putting her nephew down to stretch her arms as well to finally focus on the rare opportunity.

"So empty". No other ships or boats seen yet "So beautiful". The ocean's vast expanse gleamed like a canvas of molten gold, as the sun's radiant beam danced across its waves. The water's surface shimmered and sparkled, a dazzling display of light and color, as if a thousand diamonds had been scattered across its surface. Above, the sky was a brilliant blue, with just a few wispy clouds scattered across it, like cotton tufts carried on the breeze.

In the distance, a line of birds flew in perfect formation, their silhouettes etched against the sky like a delicate pen and ink drawing. They moved in unison, their wings beating in a slow, hypnotic rhythm, as if choreographed to the ocean's gentle swell. The sun's golden rays caught their wings, casting a shimmering glow around each bird, like a halo of light.

As the birds flew overhead, their soft cries echoed through the air, blending with the soothing melody of the waves. The ocean's gleam seemed to intensify, as if reflecting the joy and freedom of the birds in flight. The scene was one of perfect harmony, a symphony of light, sound, and motion, where the ocean, sky, and birds blended in a glorious celebration of life and beauty she ever seen at one sight is truly to behold. An living art is what deity has bestowed humans in form of nature. For a moment truly did all of her tension, clouded thoughts wash away lifting her mood.

Eyes too captured to blink as if the sight would lose from her grasp when her breath hitched and eyes wide in rejection because a huge dark patch of figure in between the dolphins is swimming at her side. "What is that ?" She whisper in utter confusion.

Immediately did (Y/N) search her bag to find her binoculars and squint to look clearly yet to no avail did she success in figuring the creature out. "What is this ? Another sea animal ?" Curiosity ate her as she sat near the railing waiting to understand. "Are the dolphins protecting the thing ?" Because the figure only move in between the dolphins that circle around it, also if it were enemies the fight would had broken out already.

SPLASH ! Disbelief paint her expression witnessing an tail flared out of the water, its vibrant green scales glistening in the sunlight. The tail's surface rippled and flexed, revealing a mesmerizing pattern of lighter and darker shades of green, like the swirling hues of a tropical lagoon. For a fleeting moment, the tail's full majesty was on display, its sleek, streamlined shape slicing through the air. Then, with a swift motion, it vanished beneath the waves once more, leaving behind only a hint of its presence—a whispered promise of secrets hidden beneath the surface.

"It's impossible ! That was almost like an mermaid !" She screamed standing up from her seat startling the family who had been engrossed by the fishes on other side, their heads jerking up in unison like puppets on a string. Silence spread except for (Y/N)'s heavy breathing, as if the very air had been sucked out of it. Anton's family exchanged bewildered glances, unsure how to react to her outbrust of something unbelievable. The tension was palpable until finally, Anton burst out laughing, breaking the spell, and the air erupted into chuckles.

"What are you talking about ?" Anton questioned.

"Aunty ! Mermaids are only myths don't you learn ?" Ren's eyes winkled in mischief and grining ear to ear.

"I think you should rest". Suppressing her bubbling smile Maria suggested making her enraged.

"I am not lying ! I truly saw it ! I-I-" She spoke with a hesitant cadence, her stutter punctuating each sentences as if the words sounds distant to herself. "Believe me—" An abrupt end her sentences as the boat shuddered violently, its hull creaking in protest, before jolting to a sudden, eerie stillness.

"What happen ?" (Y/N) was quick to question, her heart sank in her stomach.

"It's alright let me check !" Anton wave his hands controlling the situation by walking to the back of the boat while Maria hold her child and gave a comforting pat behind (Y/N)'s back who's eyes glance up to meet the softly glowing sinking sun low, warm hues fading to pinkish blues, slowly extinguishing its light, about to surrender to darkness.

"We have to hurry". Suddenly a gentle noise turn her attention to the ocean where her fearful eyes locked onto the twenty dolphins, their fins slicing through the water, swimming away from the ship, as if luring her into the dark, mysterious depths, escalating her anxiety. Confusion of their sudden departure crawl into her mind raising a unbelievable question.

"Did the dolphins did—"

"Sorry honey and (Y/N) but there seem to be some kind of problem I can't figure out". He click his tongue in annoyance looking at the water. "Maybe I should dive in to che—".

"No ! Not at all". Her voice broke in denying in beat. "It's not safe to dive without having the knowledge of what animals are underneath". She finished elaborating her honest worry.

"Then what should we do ?" Her sister-in-law rest her chin on her palm.

"Maybe stay at the ship !" Ren glee voice yell loud, smiling non-stop.

"What ? But aunty doesn't—". Anton's voice once again cut.

"Aunty is okay with it as long as we are safe". Straining a smile she bent to hug his small body. Unaware the words were far from the reality bound to happen.

Darkness shrouds the boat, stars twinkling above. The woman presses against the window, gazing out at the black ocean, boat's lights casting a golden glow on the waves and little view for her to guard around. Yawns slip past her lips she can't conceal unlike her sleep all because of her growing fear of what might happen if she fell asleep peacefully.

"Did I imagine the tail ?" She pondered on how much her dislike for water grew to the point she hallucinate something belonged on fiction tales and stories to amuse children. She saw her wrist watch : 11:00 pm as drowsiness crept over her, heavy eyelids drooping, until a faint splash echoed through the air, jolting her awake with a start.

"What was that ?" Instantly she sprint outside her room to outside only be finding nothing not even water drops on the wooden floor. Her head tilted pluzzed questioning whether she herself heard right or perhaps it was the noise within the water. Relieving a sigh she walk back to her room noticing how in hurry her door opened a little offering her to spot wet wooden floor.

She halted. Knowing very well the ship isn't crash to be filled with water nor did she spill any water yet how come it's wet ? Unless "It was a trap. A trap for me to go outside and someone—" Fear gripped her throat to let out any voices knowing someone is inside her safe room. Slowly stepping backwards she wince at the creaking noises and walk to find her brother's room only to encounter group of dolphins gather at the boat's railing, clicking and whistling softly as they try to squeeze through, their bodies undulating and scraping against the metal in a gentle yet persistent bid for entry.

This time the scream was unrestricted freezing the sea creatures as she run back to her room forgetting about an intruder inside her room, quickly her fingers barricade the door with any possible object. Her chest constricts, air trapped in her lungs as fear paralyzes her. Her heart races, mind frozen in terror, unable to process the surreal horror unfolding before her. When a cruel realization wash her now she is alone with an intruder.

Ever slowly she turn around facing the certain someone she confirmed got a glimpse earlier, eyes wide with dread, she's petrified, her breath caught in a silent scream gazing the mythical creature.

A merman.

She shrink back in fear and fascination entwined like the tendrils of a vine. Her breath hitches, heart racing, as she stares into his shimmering scales and piercing gaze. Transfixed, she's unable to look away, her terror tempered by a hypnotic allure, as if drawn into the depths of his oceanic eyes. The merman's mystique holds her captive, a siren's call that beckons her closer, even as her mind screams to flee.

"It's not real". She whispered refuse to acknowledge his existence in front her. How could she if he had the power to crush her in his palm only ? Options limited for her to choose from, flee ? How when outside soldiers of dolphins are scattered. Fight ? Unbeatable his strength are comparing to hers just merely stare at those muscular flesh. Pled ? Perhaps yes.

"P-Please. P-Please don't kill me and my family". Her (E/C) eyes swell up with tears. His on the other hand curve in satisfaction. Silence was all given answer before his lips parted and his voice unfurls like a dark bloom, petals of sound that envelop (Y/N) in an unsettling embrace. His song is a low, thrumming whisper, a vibration that resonates deep within her chest, making her heart quiver. Fear's icy fingers crawl up her spine as his melody conjures visions of shadowy depths and forgotten nightmares. A voice masterful of manipulation, weaving a tapestry of dread that ensnares (Y/N)'s mind, each note a delicate thread of terror that binds her closer to his will.

"He is not a merman instead a siren". Her hands clap into her ears protest against the enchantment no matter what. She even dug her fingers deep into her ear buds yet the voice still sweep. Blood bled yet his voice stayed. No. No. No. No. No. She won't lose without a tough fight she decided retrieving her fingers staggering her feet she broke the wooden table holding a piece of wood further entertaining the male siren who sat comfortably on the soft bed, singing his lure.

He is confident. Even arrogant she won't able to resist longer after all he is a siren, the very creation of creature made to spellbound humans by his mesmerizing voice awakening the deepest desires of foolish humans who deem themselves intelligent and courageous. In reality they are very insignificance to mythically sea species as plankton. However it falter his view a little when her hands grasp the wooden plank crashes against the siren's tail, the impact sending a shudder through the air along his melody stutter like skipping beats allowing her a chance to attack again this time on the same spot intend a injury however he was faster, smarter shifting his tail and slapping her entire being to the floor.

Ha. An enigmatic smile cast upon his ruby lips as his eyes studied the fragile being refusing him, his voice drop to a low, husky whisper like the gentle lapping of waves on a moonlit shore. An unfamiliar interest spark because the entire reason he even attacked the ship was for his boredom. Weeks had passed with no signs of any new human toy leading him to hunt trivial creatures with his species rejecting any seduction from his female species because they were dull, boring until today a joyful laugh captured his eyes with curiousity. A boat with humans. Mischief control his mind to hunt them right away yet a strange feeling to observe came over so he watched. Their teasing remarks, pretending fights that he realize too late his compatriot dolphins has appeared too to guard him even though in sea world all knew the most dangrous predator is sirens themselves yet the dolphins befriend their species like moth to flame.

First he was angered for the dolphins to do as they pleased yet he was curious to see how would those humans react especially that female (H/C) head and certainly did not fail to surprise him by showing disfavored towards the creatures humans oh so adore. Giving him more reason to hunt the boat and to see more unfolding layers of emotions on the certain female he gifted peek of his existence biting back laugh to destroy their weirdly metals called engine he heard them talking.

The trap was set now the prey has to walk into it for him to tear, dices the warm flesh like he always did leading to their current time.

But he come with the terms to enjoy his little toy longer. Yes, he will show generousity by sparing her alive and label her his pet. The delicious thought impatient him greatly he slams his tail on the boat's floor, echoing like thunder, His eyes not tearing from her figure, With each strike, the winds howl and waves churn, the siren's song weaving a tempest of delightnent. The boat shudders, wooden planks creaking beneath the force of his call. Floor shakes unable for (Y/N) to hold her balance.

"What is happening ?" She cried out falling on the hard floor again and again. Her barely lidded eyes stare at the window to see dark clouds converge, unleashing a torrent of rain that lashes down on the boat. Winds shriek, whipping waves into a frenzy as the vessel creaks and groans. Water pours in, flooding the decks as the boat's timbers shudder and crack. The siren's song reaches a fever pitch, his tail thrashing the sea into a chaotic tumult. The boat's hull splinters, planks bursting apart as the waves surge in, threatening to engulf all in their path. Rain pounds down, stinging skin and blinding her eyes, as the tempest rages on, merciless and unrelenting eventually drowning into the ocean she fears.

"Brother. Sister-in-law.." Her thoughts tailed off. "Ren". Inhaling water, paralyzing her body that is useless against the water as she not learnt to swim. Mind spinning and finally she freed her conscious to be under the song spell closing her eyes wondering if it's forever. Missing the way a tail carry her waist upwards.

Her eyes slowly open, a grogginess clouding her mind and a sense of disorientation washes over her. As she tries to sit up, she felt touches of unwanted hands and caress on her bare parts. Fingers trace her arms, sending shivers down her spine. Her gaze falls upon the siren, his eyes fixed intently on her, his hands roaming shamelessly on her skin with a gentle yet firm touch. His calloused palms graze her shoulders, sending a spark of electricity through her veins. (Y/N)'s heart races, her mind foggy, as she tries to process what's happening. The siren's hands continue their exploration, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake, as (Y/N) struggles to find her voice, to protest and move away.

"Aww, is the little human can't move ?" A sarcastic laugh fell on her, his first words to her is a mock comparing their gap of strength angering her rather than fear.

She glared after all she is bound to die if sooner what's the point ? wiggle from his disgusting touches she tried her best to control her moments in which the male creature snicker leaning closer to her face.

"I saved you not to free you. You little delusional human. You are mine rightfully and let me use you as I please". A sinister smile curve finding fear mix anger on those beautiful eyes he before not paid attention. His fingers cup her cotton soft skin careful to not gaze her with his sharp nails. He press the skin more, feeling bones underneath and a flinch from the human.

His eyes wide in delightment. His another hand caress her cheek intensely watching her every twitch to blink.

Pearlix's finger pads rub (Y/N)'s lips. She narrowed her eyes.

His finger continue to trace path down to her chin. Her lips twist in scowl still under spellbound under him.

He paused at the delicate curve of neck and her pulse flutter under him.

His nails dance across the collarbone and her breath caught at her throat.

He is curious while she is in denial.

The contrast between them utterly fascinated Pearlix, that he toyed more around her body she so obsessed to cover with irrelevant clothes. Tearing bluntly he was baffled to find another layer of cloth so he tore again this time a pleasant hum vibrate from his chest staring the assets of female he never interest on his species yet this woman's are captivating inviting him to bite, touch so he comply to his desire.

One breast been fondling, another one biten harshly earning a wince from her. He smirked coating her bud with his saliva, sucking more and more with hunger that border on desperation. (Y/N) sucked a chunk of breath, tears itself steaming from her tail of eyes as she layed helpless until her body stirred, limbs twitching and sensation returned. Her face contorted, mouth opening in a ragged cry, as her sobs grew louder. Her voice cracked with emotion, cries echoing through the air. She wept uncontrollably stopping the siren entirely.

However not for the reasons she hoped for because he licked her salty tears savouring her sorrow and finally pounce on her attractive lips, grasping her air in form of claiming his possession, dwelling under her tongue, twisting and sucking altogether like an mad beast ignoring her whimpers, pushes against his chest.

Raged she bite down his slit tongue causing him to glare at her and dragging out his wounded tongue bleeding the sliver rivulets both surprising and scaring her.

"You know now I understand this fraction between us. I understand why I wanted you, kissed you, possessed you because". An errie smile stretch across his ruby lips while vivid green irises shone like beacons hinting his deadly obsession. "I love you". His icy heart pound warm against his flesh, heating his cheeks yet the razor sharp smile stayed.

"Be my wife". He announced not focusing her terror and he slashed his own palm, opening a deep gash that welled with silver blood. (Y/N) struggled to free herself, but the siren's hold was merciless.

He forced her lips to his palm, pressing her lips to the wound. (Y/N) tried to turn away, but he held her fast, his fingers wrapped around her jaw like a vice.

The first drop of his blood touched her tongue, and a searing pain, like liquid fire coursed through her veins. She gagged, trying to spit it out, yet the siren's grip was unrelenting. He forced her to swallow, his eyes blazing with an unnatural hunger.

As the silver blood burned its way down her throat, (Y/N) felt her vision blur, her senses reel. "Now you will be immortal like me. Mine for eternal". He sing song knowing no force of nature, not his merfolk, not even her dead familiar humans separate them.

"Our". He pressed a sadistic kiss. "Love of immortal".

FIN

[lila-lou]

✨Obsessed - Pt. 1✨

Summary: After weeks of searching, you finally found Dean. However, he was no longer the man you had been in love with- but more importantly, no longer the man who never returned your love. Because now, in his twisted state, he was somehow obsessed with you.

Pairing: Demon!Dean x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language, Angst, Hurt, Violence, Humiliation, naive reader

Word Count: 6960

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

You were trembling, afraid of what awaited you behind that stupid motel door. You had been looking for him for over four weeks now and finally found him. Sam was on another trace, but you would call him as soon as you were sure it really was Dean. With a deep breath, you pushed the door open, hearing the shower running in the bathroom.

The room was dimly lit, the heavy curtains drawn against the outside world. The faint smell of old cigarettes and cheap whiskey lingered in the air, mixing with the steam escaping from the bathroom. Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat echoing the countless fears and hopes you’d carried during your search.

You took a cautious step inside, the creaky floorboards betraying your presence. The bathroom door was slightly ajar, a sliver of light cutting through the darkness. You could hear the water hitting the tiles and a familiar, gravelly hum. It was unmistakable.

“Dean?”, you called out, your voice barely above a whisper, almost afraid to break the fragile reality you were stepping into. The humming stopped abruptly, replaced by a tense silence. Moments later, the water ceased, and you heard the rustle of a towel.

The door swung open, and there he stood. Dean Winchester. But it wasn’t the Dean you knew. The good-hearted, sweet, and brave man was long gone, as you were about to find out firsthand. He was clad only in a towel, and you could see the faint red marks in the bathtub, indicating he had just washed away blood from his body.

"Oh, coming here was a fucking mistake, sweetheart", he growled, flashing you with pitch-black eyes for a second. The beautiful green gone.

You froze, the sight of those eyes confirming your worst fears. This wasn't just Dean in a bad place; this was something darker, something more sinister. Your heart clenched as you took a step back, instinct screaming at you to run, but your legs felt like lead.

"Dean", you whispered, voice trembling. "This isn't you".

He laughed, a cold, hollow sound that sent shivers down your spine. "Oh, but it is me. Just a new and improved version".

The darkness in his eyes flickered again, and for a moment, you saw a glimpse of the Dean you knew, the Dean you cared about. It was enough to keep you rooted to the spot, desperate to reach him, to pull him back from whatever abyss he had fallen into.

"You don't have to do this", you pleaded, taking a tentative step closer. "We can help you. Sam and I, we can fix this".

Dean's expression hardened, the flicker of humanity snuffed out as quickly as it had appeared. "There's no fixing this, Y/N. You should have stayed away".

With a sudden, predatory grace, he closed the distance between you, his hand wrapping around your wrist with a bruising grip. The coldness of his touch shocked you, the pain snapping you back to the immediate danger.

"Dean, please", you gasped, struggling against his hold. "Fight it".

For a moment, his grip loosened, and his eyes softened, as if he was waging a war within himself. But then the darkness surged back, and his hold tightened once more.

"Get out", he hissed, shoving you towards the door. "Before I do something you'll regret".

You stumbled, catching yourself against the doorframe. Tears blurred your vision, but you refused to let them fall. You had to be strong, for him, for Sam, for yourself.

"I won't give up on you", you said, voice firm despite the fear. "I'll find a way to save you, Dean. I promise".

His expression twisted into something unreadable, and for a moment, you thought you saw a flash of regret. But then the cold mask was back, and he turned away from you, retreating into the shadows of the room.

"Go", he muttered, his voice hollow. "Before it's too late".

With a heavy heart, you turned and fled, the sound of the door closing behind you echoing like a final, desperate plea. You knew this was far from over. Whatever had taken hold of Dean, you would find a way to fight it. You had to.

You grappled with all the emotions, feeling the weight of fear, sadness, and determination settling heavily in your chest. For minutes, you sat in your car, thinking about what to do. You knew if you texted Sam, he would rush here, bringing himself into danger. Dean was dangerous. That’s all you knew so far.

You thought a bit longer before you parked your car in an empty side road and checked into the same motel Dean was staying at. Sooner or later, you knew you had to call Sam, but you had to make really sure in which state Dean was. So you planned on keeping your eye on him for a few days before making any further steps.

The room you got was a few doors down from Dean’s. Close enough to keep an eye on him, but hopefully far enough to avoid his immediate suspicion. You unpacked your bag slowly, mind racing with the events that had just transpired. The image of Dean’s black eyes haunted you, a stark reminder of the danger he now posed.

Night fell, and the motel grew quiet, the occasional hum of a passing car the only sound breaking the silence. You sat by the window, the curtains slightly parted, giving you a narrow view of Dean’s door. Every movement, every shadow that passed by made your heart jump.

Around midnight, the door to Dean’s room creaked open. You watched as he stepped out, now fully dressed. He looked around cautiously, then headed toward his car.

You quickly grabbed your jacket and slipped out of your room, following him at a safe distance. Dean drove out of the motel parking lot, and you trailed him, keeping your headlights off and maintaining a good distance.

He drove to a shabby bar outside of town. You waited a few minutes before you followed him inside. With your hood pulled up, you sat down in a quiet corner, watching Dean as he played pool as if nothing had changed. It didn’t even take twenty minutes until he had the attention of a blonde girl clad in tight, short shorts and a shirt that barely covered her boobs. She quickly threw herself at him, flirting shamelessly, tracing his biceps. And Dean returned the flirting.

You watched as Dean flashed her a smile, but there was something off about it—too sharp, too predatory. The girl giggled, oblivious to the danger, as she leaned closer, whispering something in his ear. Dean’s eyes flickered with that same unsettling darkness you had seen before, just for a moment, but it was enough to send a shiver down your spine.

Trying to remain inconspicuous, you sipped your drink and kept your eyes on them. Dean’s charm was undeniable, but you could see the strain behind his facade. The girl led him to a corner booth, her laughter ringing out as they settled down. Dean’s hand slid around her waist, pulling her closer, but his eyes scanned the room, ever watchful.

You knew you couldn’t let him hurt her, but you also knew you had to be careful. Approaching Dean directly could trigger something unpredictable. As you mulled over your options, a large, burly man approached their booth, glaring at Dean.

“Hey, buddy, that’s my girl”, he growled, his fists clenching at his sides.

Dean looked up slowly, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Is that so?”, he replied, his voice calm but menacing.

The girl rolled her eyes, snapping at the man, “Get lost, Travis! We’re not fucking anymore”.

Travis’ face twisted with anger and hurt, but he didn’t back down. “You can’t just toss me aside for this guy”, he spat, taking a step closer.

Dean’s smile widened, but it was devoid of any warmth. “I think the lady made her choice”, he said, his tone dripping with menace.

The man’s anger rose, and so did Dean’s. He stood in front of Travis, who, blinded by rage, swung his fist at Dean. With a swift and practiced motion, Dean caught his wrist and twisted it until a sickening crack echoed through the bar. Travis screamed in pain, his body collapsing as Dean shoved him back, sending him crashing into a few tables.

Chaos erupted as a few men jumped to their feet, and the bartender hurried over, his face pale with fear and anger. “Hey! You need to leave, now!”, he shouted, pointing a trembling finger towards the door.

Dean’s eyes flashed dangerously, but he gave a curt nod. “Fine”, he muttered. Turning to the blonde girl, he grabbed her arm, and she grinned, thinking she had found herself a brave man. She pushed herself against Dean, her smile wide and her eyes gleaming. “I’ll definitely join you in leaving”, she purred, looking up at him with admiration.

A pang of jealousy shot through you, sharp and overwhelming. Even after Dean had hurt this man, showing a side of himself that was terrifying and unrecognizable, your feelings for him were so strong that your jealousy for the girl overshadowed everything else.

As they made their way towards the exit, you followed, your mind racing with conflicting emotions.

You got back into your car and followed Dean to the motel, keeping a safe distance to avoid drawing attention. Your heart ached with every mile, the sight of Dean with the girl igniting a tumult of jealousy and pain within you. When they arrived, you parked a few spaces away, watching as they made their way into his room.

As soon as they disappeared inside, you slipped into your own room, a few doors down. The thin walls of the motel did little to muffle the sounds of laughter and movement next door. You tried to block it out, not wanting to imagine what was happening, but the hurt was impossible to hide. It felt like a dagger twisting in your chest.

You sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the wall that separated you from Dean. Tears welled up in your eyes, but you blinked them away, determined not to let your emotions consume you. This was about more than just your feelings for Dean—this was about saving him from whatever darkness had taken hold of him.

Time passed slowly, each minute feeling like an hour. Eventually, the noises quieted down, leaving you in an oppressive silence.

You lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, thoughts racing through your mind. How had it come to this? Dean, the man you cared so deeply for, was slipping away, and there was little you could do to stop it. Yet, you couldn’t give up. Not on him.

The next morning, you awoke to the sound of a door slamming. You quickly got up and peered out the window, seeing Dean and the girl leaving the room. She was still clinging to his arm, looking smug and satisfied. You swallowed hard, the jealousy flaring up again, but you forced yourself to focus. This wasn’t about her; it was about Dean.

The next few days followed a grim, predictable pattern. Dean continued to hurt people, drink heavily, and bring different women back to the motel. Each day felt like a knife twisting deeper into your heart, but you stayed vigilant, determined to find a way to save him. What you didn’t know was that every time you fell asleep, Dean snuck into your room, simply watching you. He knew you never left. Of course you wouldn’t. You loved him.

Before becoming a demon, he always asked Sam how to tell you that he would never feel the same way about you, that you were just like a sister to him. But since he saw you a few days ago, something changed. His urge to touch you, to feel you, to bury himself deep inside you had intensified by a thousand times. You were practically all he could think about.

On the fourth night, you lay in bed, exhausted from the emotional turmoil. You drifted into a restless sleep, unaware that Dean was once again standing at the foot of your bed. His eyes, now a disturbing mix of longing and darkness, traced the lines of your face, the rise and fall of your chest. His hands clenched at his sides as he fought the overwhelming urge to reach out and touch you.

In your sleep, you mumbled his name, your voice filled with a mixture of love and sorrow. It sent a shiver down Dean’s spine. He stepped closer, his breath hitching as he imagined what it would be like to be with you, to feel your skin against his. The desire was almost unbearable.

But something else flickered within him—an echo of his former self, a whisper of the man who cared for you deeply but never in this way. It was enough to make him hesitate, to keep him from crossing a line he knew he shouldn’t.

He left your room, the door closing softly behind him. Back in his own room, he sat on the edge of the bed, his mind a chaotic swirl of emotions. The darkness within him was growing stronger, but so was his obsession with you. He didn’t know how much longer he could resist.

It had been nearly two weeks now. Dean’s self-control was wearing thin, the darkness inside him growing more insistent. Tonight, as he stood in your room again, the sight of you almost undid him completely. Your air conditioner had broken, and you wore nothing but a thin, soft bra and matching panties. The fabric was so thin he could see your nipples through it, and your body wasn’t covered by a blanket.

His breath hitched, the urge to touch you, to feel your skin against his, overwhelming. He clenched his fists, trying to keep the darkness at bay, but it was a losing battle. The demon within him fed on his desires, amplifying them until they were nearly unbearable.

You mumbled in your sleep, shifting slightly, and his eyes traced every curve of your body. The sight of you like this, so vulnerable, so inviting, drove him to the edge of his sanity. He took a step closer, his resolve crumbling.

“Y/N”, he whispered, his voice a mix of longing and torment. He reached out, his hand hovering inches above your skin, the warmth radiating from you like a siren’s call. His fingers trembled, aching to close the gap.

In your sleep, you murmured his name again, a sound filled with so much love and sadness that it pierced through the fog of his desire. For a brief moment, the real Dean fought through the darkness, horrified by what he was about to do.

He pulled his hand back, clenching his jaw. “Get a grip”, he muttered to himself, backing away from the bed.

Dean knew he needed to get away from you as quickly as possible. And so he did. An hour later, he packed his bag, grabbed his keys, and left the motel, driving off into the night without a clear destination. He just needed to escape, to put as much distance between himself and you as he could.

But you had anticipated this. Knowing how erratic Dean had become, you had placed a GPS tracker on his car. The next morning, when you woke up and found his room empty, your heart sank. You checked your phone and saw the signal from the tracker, confirming that he had indeed left for good.

Determined not to let him disappear completely, you quickly packed your things and hit the road, following the signal. It led you through desolate highways, each mile stretching out in front of you like an endless test of your resolve.

Hours later, you found yourself in a small, rundown town far from the main roads. Dean’s car was parked outside a dingy motel that looked even worse than the one you had just left. You parked a few spaces away, taking a deep breath to steady your nerves.

As you stood in front of his room, hearing the shower running inside, you took a deep breath and gathered your courage. Quietly, you turned the doorknob and slipped into the room. The sound of the shower masked your entrance, but as soon as you closed the door behind you and turned back around, you froze.

Dean stood there, arms crossed, eyes black as night. The growl in his voice was unmistakable. “I told you to leave me the fuck alone, Y/N”.

Your heart pounded in your chest, but you forced yourself to stay calm. “Dean, I couldn’t. I won’t let you destroy yourself like this”.

He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with”, he snarled, his voice low and menacing. “I can’t control this”.

“I know you’re fighting”, you said, your voice trembling slightly. “I can see it. But you don’t have to do it alone”.

Dean’s expression twisted with anger and something else—desperation. “You need to leave”, he said again, but there was a note of uncertainty in his voice.

“I won’t”, you replied firmly, stepping closer despite the fear gnawing at you. “I care about you too much to just walk away”.

He clenched his fists, trying to maintain control. “You’re making a fucking mistake”, he said through gritted teeth. “I can’t protect you from this”.

“You don’t have to protect me”, you said, reaching out to touch his arm.

He stared at your hand on his arm, his breath coming in ragged gasps. That’s when he lost it.

He couldn’t hold back anymore. With a feral growl, he grabbed your hips with a force that left you breathless, pulling you up as if you weighed nothing. Before you could react, he threw you onto his bed, and within seconds, he was hovering over you, his eyes a dark, stormy mix of desire and anger.

“Dean”, you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and anticipation. You could feel the intensity radiating from him, his struggle between the darkness and the man you loved.

His hands gripped your wrists, pinning them above your head as he leaned in close, his breath hot against your neck. “I told you to stay away”, he hissed, but there was a note of longing in his voice that betrayed his words.

You gazed up at him, your heart pounding. “I won’t”, you said softly, your eyes locking with his. “I’m not afraid of you”.

For a moment, he seemed to falter, the darkness in his eyes flickering. Then, with a shuddering breath, he pressed his lips to yours, the kiss filled with a desperate intensity. His grip on your wrists tightened, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you leaned into the kiss.

Dean broke the kiss, his forehead resting against yours as he struggled for control. “You should be afraid of me”, he groaned, his voice raw and filled with torment.

His mouth wandered over your jaw, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your neck. The sensation was a heady mix of pleasure and pain as he bit your skin a bit too hard, leaving marks that would undoubtedly bruise. You gasped, your body arching involuntarily against him.

His eyes flickered, switching from black to green and back again, a visual testament to the battle raging within him. “Dean”, you whispered, your voice a desperate plea. You wanted to reach him, to pull him back from the brink.

“I can’t stop”, he growled, his grip on your wrists tightening and then loosening as he fought for control. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I can’t… I can’t fight it”.

His hands wandered to your waist, squeezing it bruisingly as he kissed down between your breasts. You knew you should push him away, that this was dangerous, but his mouth on your skin was what you had dreamed about for over three years. He was all you wanted. Even when he ripped your flannel open, exposing your black bra, you didn’t stop him.

By that moment, Dean was gone. His eyes blackened out completely as he leaned down, his breath hot against your ear. “I’m gonna fuck that nice little pussy of yours so good”, he groaned, his voice dripping with dark desire.

A shiver of fear and anticipation ran through you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to resist. The raw intensity of his need matched your own, and despite the danger, you wanted him just as badly. His hands roamed over your body, exploring every inch with a feral hunger.

“How many?”, he growled against your skin before biting your nipple again, the sharp sting sending a shiver down your spine.

You gasped, not understanding his question at first. “Dean… what?”, you managed to breathe out, your mind clouded with desire and confusion.

“How many fucked you before?”, he demanded, his voice low and possessive.

You hesitated, the answer caught in your throat. His grip on your waist tightened, and you knew he was waiting for an answer. “No one”, you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “No one, Dean”.

For a moment, there was a silence that felt like it stretched on forever. “Good”, he muttered, his voice filled with a dark satisfaction. “Because you’re mine”.

He kissed you with a fierce intensity, his hands roaming over your body with renewed urgency. You could feel the possessiveness in his touch, a need to claim you completely. His fingers dug into your hips as he moved lower, his mouth trailing kisses down your stomach, leaving a path of heat in its wake.

As he reached your jeans, he roughly pulled them down, your breath hitching as you lay in front of him with nothing but your underwear. The way he looked at you made your heart beat faster. You couldn’t believe that this was finally happening. You had wished for this so often, and even if Dean was a demon now, you wanted nothing more.

His eyes roamed over your body, dark with desire. The intensity of his gaze sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn’t help but feel a thrill of anticipation. But beneath the desire, a small voice in your mind reminded you of the reality of the situation. Dean wasn’t himself. If he ever came back to being the old Dean, he would probably hate himself for taking your virginity, for fucking you at all. You weren’t even 21.

Dean’s hands trailed down your body, fingers hooking under the waistband of your panties. He tore them away with a growl, leaving you completely exposed to him. His eyes darkened further, and he let out a low, appreciative noise. “So fucking perfect”, he murmured, his voice rough with need.

He positioned himself between your legs, and you felt the heat of his body against yours. His fingers brushed over your most sensitive areas, making you gasp. “Dean”, you whispered, a mix of plea and longing.

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a fierce kiss. “You’re mine”, he growled against your mouth, his hands roaming possessively over your body. “No one else will ever touch you like this”.

Despite the fear and the knowledge that this wasn’t the real Dean, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop him. You wanted him so badly, had wanted this for so long. As his mouth traveled down your body, leaving a trail of heat in its wake, you arched into him, your breath coming in shallow gasps.

“Dean, please”, you begged, your voice trembling.

He looked up at you, his eyes black as night. “You want this”, he said, his voice a dark promise. “Say it”.

“Yes”, you whispered, your heart pounding. “I want this. I want you”.

With that, Dean pulled down his jeans and boxers just enough to free himself, not bothering to remove the rest of his clothes.

As you saw how he stroked himself, looking at your exposed body with black eyes, finally some sense came to you. Your breath hitched, and you backed away, closing your legs. It wasn't what you had imagined; you always dreamed about it being more intimate, with more love, with cuddling, with him kissing you more, and more softly.

"I don’t want this. Not like this", you whispered, fear creeping into your voice. But Dean wasn’t having it.

His eyes darkened further, a growl escaping his lips as he grabbed your ankles, pulling you back toward him with a force that left you breathless. "You wanted this", he hissed, his grip bruising. "You said it".

You tried to wiggle free from his grasp, but it was impossible. “Dean, don’t, please”, you whispered, your voice trembling with fear.

He snapped again, his grip unyielding. “You said you wanted this, so now you’re gonna fucking take it”, he growled, his voice filled with anger and desire.

Tears gathered in your eyes as he pushed your legs roughly open. But as he saw the tears and fear in your eyes, he hesitated, if only for a second. In his twisted, dark mind, there was still a fragment of care for you left. Dean let go of your ankles, and you instantly backed away, pulling the blanket over your naked body.

“How do you want it?”, he grumbled after a few moments, standing up and pushing his boxers back up, not caring about his open jeans as he headed for the whiskey bottle on the desk.

Dean brushed through his hair, clearly annoyed, and took a big sip of his whiskey. He glared at you, his eyes still dark with desire and frustration. “Not like this”, you whispered, your voice trembling. “I don’t want it to be so… cold. I want it to be nice. I need you to be gentle with me”.

He rolled his eyes, exhaling sharply. “Gentle?”, he muttered, almost to himself, the word seeming foreign and unwelcome in his current state. But the flicker of hesitation was still there, the part of him that cared for you trying to break through.

He stared at you for a long moment, as if trying to process your words, then turned back to the desk, taking another long swig of whiskey. “Gentle”, he repeated, the word tasting strange on his tongue.

He still looked annoyed, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes—a struggle against the darkness. With a rough motion, he pulled off his shirt and tossed it aside. Your cheeks heated as you watched him.

As he looked at you, he felt a strange clench in his heart, something that felt almost like pain. “Alright”, he muttered, his voice still rough. “I’ll try. But don’t expect me to be all soft and shit”.

He stepped out of his jeans and boxershorts, leaving him naked and without any shame or hesitation. The sight of him, all hard lines and raw masculinity, sent a shiver down your spine. He pointed to your bra, his voice rough as he muttered, “Pull that shit off”.

You hesitated for a moment, the reality of the situation making your heart race. Slowly, you reached up and unhooked your bra, letting it fall away.

Dean’s eyes darkened with an intense, raw desire as he watched your bra fall away. Without a moment’s hesitation, he grabbed your ankles and pulled, making you fall on your back, your breasts bouncing with the sudden movement. He climbed onto the bed, his movements rough and impatient, nudging your legs apart with his knee until your inner thighs hurt.

He hovered above you, his gaze locked on yours, filled with a mix of hunger and something more vulnerable buried deep within. One of his hands slipped between your legs, exploring your most intimate areas with a rough possessiveness. “Fucking wet for a fucking virgin”, he grumbled, his voice low and filled with dark satisfaction. Without warning, he pushed a finger inside you, making you gasp at the sudden intrusion.

The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and discomfort that left you breathless. You tried to relax, to trust that Dean would find the part of him that could be gentle, but it was hard with the intensity of his touch.

Dean’s eyes gleamed with a dark satisfaction as he felt your reaction. “So fucking tight”, he teased, his voice dripping with a twisted mix of desire and amusement. His grip on your hips tightened, preventing you from backing away as he pushed his finger deeper inside you, curling it slightly to elicit another gasp from your lips.

You whimpered, your body instinctively trying to retreat from the overwhelming sensation, but his hold was unyielding. “Dean, please”, you pleaded, your voice a mix of desperation and confusion.

Dean grumbled, his voice rough with desire, “Wait until you feel my cock”. He started to move his finger inside you, watching your every reaction closely. His attempt to not be too rough was evident, but he couldn’t quite find a gentle rhythm. His touch was still intense, making you moan strained, trying to ignore the pressure.

Seeing your discomfort, he leaned in and kissed you, his lips hard and desperate. He seemed to be trying to calm you down with the kiss, though his roughness was still present. You could feel his struggle, the battle between the darkness and the part of him that cared for you.

“Dean”, you whispered against his lips, your voice trembling. “Please… just slow down”.

Dean took a deep breath, urging himself to slow down a bit. He looked into your eyes, his forehead resting against yours, the tension in his body palpable. With a careful push, he added a second finger inside you, making you gasp at the increased pressure.

“Fuck, you’re so tight”, he muttered, his voice a mix of awe and frustration. “This is definitely gonna hurt”.

You whimpered softly, the sensation intense and overwhelming.

Dean kept pushing slowly inside you, his fingers moving with a deliberate, measured pace. He was trying his best to get you ready for him, despite the roughness that lingered at the edges of his touch. You whimpered softly, the sensation intense and overwhelming, but you could feel the effort he was making to be careful.

“Just a bit more”, he murmured, his voice low and strained. He continued to move his fingers inside you, curling them slightly to stretch you. The discomfort began to ebb away, replaced by a growing warmth and pleasure.

As he was convinced you were wet enough, he slowly pulled his fingers out, his eyes never leaving yours. He grabbed his dick, positioning himself at your entrance, the tip brushing against you.

You shivered underneath him, biting your lip and gripping his biceps. Dean looked down at your pussy, his brow furrowed with concentration as he tried to thrust inside you as gently as possible. Despite his efforts, he failed, bottoming out with one deep thrust. The sudden, intense sensation made you scream, your body arching against him.

He immediately pressed his lips to yours, swallowing your cry, his kiss rough but desperate. “I’m trying, I swear”, his voice filled with frustration.

Tears welled in your eyes from the pain, but you forced yourself to breathe deeply, trying to adjust to the fullness. “Just… give me a moment”, you whispered, your voice trembling.

Dean breathed heavily, the intensity of the moment making it nearly impossible for him to hold back. You were clenching around him so hard that he had to grit his teeth to keep from losing control.

“You´re so fucking tight”, he groaned, his forehead pressing against yours. His muscles were tense, his body trembling with the effort to stay still.

You took several deep breaths, willing your body to relax and adjust to the sensation. The pain slowly began to subside, replaced by a growing warmth and pleasure.

Before you could tell him you were ready, Dean began to slowly pull out, a deep groan escaping his lips. The sensation was intense, and you gasped, trying to adjust to the feeling of him moving inside you. He pushed back in with measured restraint.

After a few thrusts that left you breathless, you urged him to go slower, the sensation still overwhelming. “Dean, please, slower”, you managed to gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders.

“I’m already going slow!”, he snapped, frustration evident in his voice. The veins on his neck stood out as he fought to hold back, to keep from losing control. His eyes flickered between black and green, the struggle within him palpable.

You could see the effort it took for him to maintain his composure, his muscles tense with the strain. “I know”, you whispered, trying to soothe him. “Just… keep trying”.

His face fell against your shoulder as he continued to push inside you with a strained slowness, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. “Like this?”, he muttered breathlessly, his voice filled with a mix of frustration and desperation.

You nodded, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair. “Yes, like that”, you whispered, trying to encourage him.

He groaned, his movements steady but tense, each thrust controlled but heavy with effort.

“You feel so good”, he murmured against your shoulder, his voice trembling. “So fucking good”.

“Dean”, you moaned, your body responding to the rhythm he had found. The pain had faded, replaced by a deep, growing pleasure that made your toes curl. “Keep going, just like that”.

He groaned again, the sound deep and guttural. “I should have fucked you sooner”, he mumbled, his breath hot against your ear. “Never felt a pussy like yours”.

His words sent a shiver through you, a mix of shock and arousal. You could feel his desperation, his need to claim you completely.

“Dean”, you whispered, your hands tightening in his hair. “I love you”.

His movements faltered for a moment, the words seeming to reach a part of him buried beneath the darkness. “I know”, he mumbled, his voice thick with emotion. He pushed deeper inside you, hitting your sweet spot with a precision that made you gasp.

“Oh shit", you moaned, your body arching against him, the pleasure intensifying. Your hands tightened in his hair, pulling him closer as you tried to anchor yourself in the overwhelming sensations.

His thrusts became more deliberate, more controlled, as if he was trying to savor every moment.

He felt you clenching around him, knowing you were close. “You’re mine now”, he murmured, his voice rough and possessive. “I hope you know that”.

Your heart ached at his words. Deep down, you knew that the real Dean didn’t love you the way you loved him. But this Dean, twisted by darkness, seemed to be obsessed with you in a way that was both unsettling and intoxicating. In your desperate mind, it was better than nothing.

You clung to him, your body arching against his as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable intensity.

His thrusts becoming more purposeful as he felt you nearing your climax. “Say it”, he demanded, his breath hot against your ear. “Say you’re mine”.

“I’m yours, Dean”, you gasped, your body trembling with the force of your impending release. “I’m yours”.

With a final, deep thrust, he pushed you over the edge. Your body convulsed with pleasure, your climax shattering through you with an intensity that left you breathless. Dean followed moments later, a guttural moan escaping his lips as he buried himself deep inside you, his release shuddering through him.

You were overwhelmed by your first real orgasm, your body trembling with the intensity of it. Your nails dug into Dean’s back as he spilled inside of you, his own release shuddering through him. You both lay there, breathing heavily, your minds spinning from the sheer force of the moment.

Dean’s face was buried in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. He remained inside you, his body still trembling slightly from the aftershocks. The room was filled with the sound of your combined heavy breathing, a testament to the intensity of what had just happened.

After a while, Dean pulled out of you, letting himself fall back on the bed, one hand resting on his sweaty stomach. You hesitated for a moment, the silence hanging heavily in the air. The intimacy of the moment had faded, replaced by an unsettling awkwardness.

“What do I do now?”, you asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Dean rolled his eyes, his frustration evident. “Go and fucking clean yourself before you soak my sheets”, he grumbled, his tone rough. Blood and his cum were already gathering between your thighs, making you feel extremely vulnerable.

You felt a pang of shame at his words, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. The reality of the situation hit you hard, and you struggled to keep your emotions in check. Slowly, you got up from the bed, trying to ignore the uncomfortable wetness between your legs.

You made your way to the bathroom, each step feeling heavier than the last. Once inside, you closed the door behind you and leaned against it for a moment, taking a deep breath.

You cleaned yourself up as best as you could, the water from the sink cold against your skin. As you wiped away the remnants of blood and cum, you couldn’t help but feel a mix of emotions—relief that it was over, shame for what had happened, and a lingering sadness for the way things had turned out.

When you finally returned to the bedroom, Dean was still lying on the bed, his eyes closed and his breathing steady. With shaking legs, you began to gather your clothes, trying to hide your naked body as best as you could. The vulnerability and shame still weighed heavily on you, and you moved quietly, hoping not to draw his attention.

But Dean’s eyes opened, and he watched you intently. “What are you doing?”, he grumbled, his voice rough.

You froze for a moment, clutching your clothes to your chest. “I… I was just getting dressed”, you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper.

He sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his face. “Just come back to bed”, he muttered, sounding more tired than angry. “We can deal with this tomorrow”.

You looked at him, puzzled. “You want me to stay?”, you asked quietly, afraid to hear a no.

Dean rolled his eyes, his frustration clear. “Do I fucking stutter?”, he grumbled. “What part of ‘you’re mine’ didn’t you understand?”.

His words, though rough, brought a strange sense of relief. You slowly let your clothes drop back onto the chair and returned to the bed, slipping under the covers beside him. The vulnerability and shame still lingered, but his possessiveness was oddly reassuring.

Dean wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close against his chest. Despite his gruff demeanor, his touch was surprisingly gentle. You nestled against him, your head resting on his shoulder, feeling a mixture of comfort and confusion.

“Just get some sleep”, Dean murmured, his voice softer now, almost tender. He was tired and didn’t want to be disturbed. You bit your lip, inhaling his scent. You were sore, feeling it already, but you didn’t mind. Dean, your Dean, albeit a twisted version of him, lay beside you, naked. After he just gave you the best orgasm ever with ease.

He had taken your virginity. You had lost your virginity to your best friend, whom you had been in love with from the day you met him. The reality of it all settled over you, a mix of emotions swirling in your chest.

You nestled closer to him, savoring the warmth and comfort of his presence despite the complexities of the situation. As you breathed in his familiar scent, a sense of bittersweet contentment washed over you. It wasn’t the perfect, romantic first time you had always imagined, but it was with Dean, and that meant something.

“Dean”, you whispered tentatively, unsure if he was still awake. “I… I’m glad it was you”.

He didn’t respond immediately, and for a moment, you thought he had fallen asleep. Then he shifted slightly, his arm tightening around you.

“I said you should sleep”, he grumbled, his voice low and rough with fatigue.

“Okay”, you whispered, nestling closer to him and resting your head on his chest.

His heartbeat was steady and strong, a comforting rhythm that began to lull you into a sense of calm. The soreness in your body was a reminder of what had happened, but as you lay in Dean’s arms, it became easier to push away the doubts and fears. For now, you focused on the simple fact that you were together.

The night was quiet, and eventually, you drifted off to sleep, the events of the day fading into the background.

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A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 Actually, I have already finished the story. I will upload the other parts one by one and I have to say, this is one of my favorites.

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Part 2

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Taglist: @spnfamily-j2 @kr804573 @kylersgirlfriend34 @spncupcake @woooonau @winchesterwild78 @anacarolinadasf

[pernesophe]

Wind Breaker Boys x Touch Starved Reader: Sakura Haruka

(Minors, Ageless and Blank Blogs DNI)

Synopsis: The first remastered version from my Touched Starved Series: how Sakura would handle a touch averse / touch starved S/O. Since it's remastered, the story is basically the same other than adding scents, songs, symbols, fleshing out backstories, and trying to cure the white room syndrome somewhat. The original version is available in my Master List at the bottom. WC: 6553 {TW: past abusive relationship for reader and ex shows back up, violence, mention of blood, comfort, fluff, Sakura and reader are bad at feelings}

Song: From Eden by Hozier / Work Song by Hozier / Why I Love the Moon by Phony Ppl Reader’s Symbols: bowl of milk, warm dimly lit barn, meadow of flowers Reader’s Scent: based on Saffron Flour by Universal Flowering Sakura’s Symbols: cats - domestic / Tiger, twilight, the moon (when it’s half full) Sakura’s Scent: Timbuktu by L'Artisan Parfumeur

The day you met Sakura Haruka was when you moved into the apartment next door. It was a four story building with the doors of the units leading to the outside, rather than an enclosed hallway. The building was a little run down, with trash scattered about and rust accumulating on the railings, the units were a tad small, and everyone referred to it as a ‘bachelor’ apartment. But it was the first place you really got to call your own. 

The situation you came from was pretty rough, so you were grateful to land anywhere else. The majority of interactions you were used to bordered on violence, so when you exited your apartment the same time as Sakura and he threw a scowl your way, you just happily grinned and waved in return. 

Your neighbor turned bright red and sputtered at your jovial greeting, something that was completely foreign to him, especially after he had been not welcoming at all. For you though, a scowl was leagues better than how you had been treated before, so you didn’t think about it too much. 

What you did think about were his two toned locks, white and black split down the part. It reminded you of the moon, but the split wasn’t down the center so it wasn’t the Half Moon and there was too much white to be a Waning Crescent. Other than his intriguing tresses, you also caught yourself wondering about his bicolored irises more often than you’d like to admit. One an abyssal slate gray shade that reminded you of dusk ebbing into the gloom of the night, and the other a shining amber color in the same hue of spring harvested honey. 

The fragrant pine-smoked mango and musky, spiced almonds that clung to the boy next door often reminded you of those liminal spaces in dreams. Or the ones you have never been to that existed in a memory, another lifetime, or maybe even a different plane of existence altogether. Either way, he often left you with a sense of reverie and deep yearning to return to that place, swiftly followed by stale melancholy every time you remembered that place doesn’t actually exist. 

From that day forward, Sakura didn’t scowl when the two of you stepped out onto the concrete platform to head out for the day, but he was still apprehensive of your presence. Despite the fact that you always greeted him, asked him how his day was, and inquired about himself while you descended the whining metal steps together. He was not forthcoming with his responses at first, but your persistent smile and bright eyes had him opening up to you before he even realized it, usually something small before he’d enter his apartment for the night. Surface level information: he moved here recently, goes to Furin, and enjoys eating at Pothos.

Despite him immediately declining your offer the first time, you insisted that he take the leftovers, because you simply wouldn’t be able to eat them all. Sakura begrudgingly took them with a muttered ‘thank you’, but unlike that first time where he took it and went right back in his apartment - every time after he would linger longer and longer by his door. Eventually he would wait for you to go back into your apartment before he’d return to his. Although you didn’t mind your neighbor’s antisocial antics, it did make you laugh at times how much he reminded you of a cat - suspicious and aloof at first, but would warm up over time, and was always around.

As for your two toned neighbor, he didn’t know what to make of you or how friendly you were to him from the jump. Despite his attempts to distance himself from you and to remain aloof, he would find himself slipping up frequently. Before he knew it, when the two of you didn’t return to the building at the same time, Sakura was subconsciously listening for you when he'd return to his apartment. If you were the one out, then he would do the same until you returned as well. He wasn’t so unlike a stray feline faithfully watching and waiting for the person who refilled the milk bowl to come home. 

Some nights your work kept you pretty late, and he’d find himself laying wide awake until he’d hear your light steps halting at your door and your key sliding into the lock. Only after he heard the deadbolt slide into place would he finally be able to drift off to sleep. Though he made sure to tell himself that he was just being neighborly - that you were too kind and naive to live in an area like this, and that’s why he was looking out for you.

The two of you weren’t super close, but were amicable enough as neighbors. Sakura honestly started to feel guilty after a while, because you would consistently bring him leftovers from your meals and all he felt like he was doing was mooching. Though Sakura wasn’t a cook, he could tell certain aromas didn’t come from the leftovers, but from you. Most of the food was cooked in a brown sauce, but he would always smell something distinct, like an exotic tea - spiced, milky with hints of rose water. 

It often reminded him of a dream he had once, where he allowed himself to be cared for - it was set in a dimly lit barn, where he sat on an aged, terracotta suede couch. Fragrant sweet hay mingled with the creamy rose as he enjoyed rice powder-puffs and listened to melodic singing by tealight. Through the large doorway he could see an expansive meadow bursting with flowers stretching into the distance before he curled up and drifted deeper into his subconscious…

It wasn’t until your past came knocking at your door that the two of you really became close. 

It’s not something you liked to talk about, but with how chaotic your early home life was you ended up moving out when you were about 14. Not having anywhere to go, you wound up working under the table at this Konbini for a rather creepy older man - middle aged, squat, and always smelled of Soju mixed with stale tobacco. He didn’t ever try anything though since his son - a lanky guy, with short black hair, wide brown eyes, and a leering grin - was so very interested in you. Being young, naive and desperate, you really thought the son loved you and cared for your well being.

After a year and a half of being trapped under his thumb, you finally found a job at a nicer Konbini that a kind, older woman ran and immediately applied for your apartment. It was a two day turnaround from finding the job to packing up your stuff in secret and making a silent escape. 

You had never told anyone about it before, so when you heard pounding on the door while lidding your pot to simmer, you honestly don’t know what to do or who to turn to. At first, you thought of hiding, but the son seemed to know you were already there as the pounding became more insistent, accompanied with shouts of, “Y/N! I know you’re in there! Open up! Now!”

Crossing the tiny room, against your better judgment, you shakily unlocked the door and swung it wide open. Tensing as the doorknob clicked against the wall, fully convinced that you were about to be attacked and thrown around your apartment like a ragdoll. 

Unbeknownst to you though, your two toned neighbor had been standing on the other side of his door from the moment the pounding started - locked in an internal debate of whether it was his place to get involved or not. On the one hand he fully realized that he doesn’t actually know you and this may be something that you might not want anyone to get involved with. On the other hand, you were the kindest person he’d ever met and you’ve become a source of comfort for him. Even without the meals, your caring and welcoming demeanor was more than enough to spur his protective nature. Sakura stood by the entrance of his apartment poised like a bengal tiger - every muscle in his body was strung taut as he pressed his ear to the door, listening for what you would do. 

The debate was decided the moment he heard the lock clicking and your door slowly swinging open as he scrambled to open his and threw himself into the hallway. The second his bicolored eyes landed on the lanky, raven haired man moving menacingly towards your ajar door, he launched himself forward without a moment’s hesitation. Just as the son was reaching through the doorway to grab you by the throat, a black and white blur collided with him from the left, knocking him to the other end of the hall. 

Stunned, you remained there in the empty doorway blinking rapidly at the far off rooftop with a darkening night sky hanging above it across the way from your apartment building. Jolting yourself into action as you cautiously grabbed the door jam and leaned your head out into the corridor in the direction the blur flew. 

The scene laid out before you was Sakura standing over the son with his fist gripping the son's collar fiercely. For a split second, you were struck with the image of one of those nature documentaries you watched as a kid. Your neighbor looked just like a black and white jungle cat standing over its prey. There was a predatory shine in his eyes as he growled, “I don’t know who you are, or what you’re trying to do, but if I ever see you anywhere near Y/N again I’ll make sure you’re not able to see.” 

The second Sakura released the son’s collar, he hit the floor while scrambling to his feet before half running-half throwing himself down the stairs towards the paved sidewalk. When Sakura turned to face you all of the predatory likeness had returned to that of a housecat as he asked in a low tone, “Are you good” with a notch in his brow. It was apparent from his expression that he wanted to inquire more, but wouldn’t let himself. Humming quietly with a nod in response, and with that he started walking back towards his apartment door. The scent of peppered rose, sweet jasmine and spiced chocolate that he left in his wake spurred you to take a slight step after him as the gears in your head spun to think of something to say.

“Wa-wait,” you blurted out quickly, causing him to stop and look back at you in surprise. “D-do you wanna eat dinner together?” You posed timidly, immediately Sakura turned a deep red as he sputtered on his words. 

“It should be done soon, and then I can just pack it up and send it with you after we’re done eating…” you offered hopefully, but when Sakura hesitated and looked between his door and then back to yours. A long beat of silence passed as you grappled to name that place he reminded you of, the one he was taking with him, the one you could only describe as safe.

“Please?” Whispering pleadingly with your hands clasped in front of you, and for just a moment you felt like you were beckoning a feral cat to you with the promise of food. 

As you stared at him, expression downright imploring as that distracting aroma enveloped his senses again - leather, creamy cognac and spicy rose water that gave the dimly lit barn a darker feel, later into the evening. The melodic singing turned to gentle humming as the tealight burned low, and the moon hung above the flowered meadow. Suddenly, his face became so red that you actually considered calling for medical assistance, but then he scowled while averting his gaze and nodded before moving towards your apartment. 

At first the dinner was incredibly awkward, neither of you really spoke, and Sakura was obviously avoiding quizzing you about what had just happened. Eventually, you took it upon yourself to let him know who that was and your relationship to him. Sakura listened intently, but by the look on his face he wanted to know more, so you told him he can ask anything he wanted - you would let him know if you didn’t want to answer.

So, he did. He implored you to tell him everything, and I mean everything, about yourself. From growing up in the rundown apartment with your mom and dad who were barely ever there. Which meant everything was scarce - food, clothes, love. You told him about your siblings, and the fact that they got the hell out of dodge the moment they turned 18, leaving you alone with your parents at the ripe age of 14. Not that it was a huge loss, when people grow up in a broken home together sometimes they don’t develop familial bonds, but it did mean you were alone. 

That’s around the time that your parent’s marriage really started to go downhill, because your dad lost his job shortly thereafter and started drinking heavily. Home life got tense to say the least, so even though you were young, you decided to try to go it alone. When you got to the konbini run by the dad and son, you told them that you were 14, so the dad said he’d pay you under the table but if anyone asked, then you’re 16. You explained bits and pieces of your relationship with the son after that, not wanting to divulge just how badly they treated you, but

Sakura seemed to get the gist. By the end of the night, he knew your whole life story and he was kind enough to share a little bit of his.

After that, you two ate dinner together in your apartment every night and became kind of friends, though neither of you admitted it outright. Until Sakura suggested you visit the Furin neighborhood.

When you did, you saw him out on patrol with his classmates and went over to say hello. A curious blonde boy inquired about who you were and how you knew Sakura, and you thought about it for a moment before glancing at Sakura - the tips of his ears burning furiously - for some assistance.

“Friends.” He basically snapped out. “We’re friends,” he repeated himself before he continued walking down the street. The blonde boy, who you eventually learned to be Nirei Akihiko, stared between you and Sakura with mounting intrigue. The auburn boy with the eye patch, who you learned to be Suo Hayato, chuckled knowingly to himself before offering for the trio to show you around the neighborhood.

Sakura relaxed throughout the tour to a point where he was able to make his own comments and tell you the things he liked about Furin. Visiting the neighborhood, and especially Pothos, became a regular thing for you after that since you enjoyed the area and people so much. 

Enough so, that when the Konbini you worked at was broken into and you ended up seeing a building for lease on the main street in Furin, you asked the owner if she would consider moving the business. She said it would be a lot of work and she’s just too old for that, and honestly with how business was dwindling she was thinking of closing the Konbini altogether.

With the fear of job insecurity, you were rather mute at dinner that night which worried your bi-colored friend. After some prying, you finally let him know what was going on. He was quiet about it, but eventually told you that he thought it would probably work out, so don’t worry yourself too much about it. You threw him a kind smile and thanked him before changing the subject - still feeling unsure of how it would work out. Regardless, throughout the rest of dinner, the sweet, vanilla-jasmine, and musky oakmoss that filled your apartment whenever he was over lulled you into a sense of security.

Unbeknownst to you, Sakura was so sure because he went to class the next day and explained the situation to them, even asking if they would be willing to help with the move if the older woman changed her mind. They of course agreed enthusiastically. After school, Sakura and his seconds went to visit the Konbini owner - Sakura instructed Suo to speak with her since that’s more his skill set - and offered her their help if she changes her mind.

A week later the new location opened on the main street in Furin. The owner was thrilled to move to a nicer neighborhood as well, now living in the apartment above the new Konbini, with the added protection of Bofurin. You were overjoyed to keep your job and to be able to go to the Furin neighborhood daily. 

It wasn’t long before you were good friends with Kotoha and Tsubaki, as well. Sakura didn’t show how happy he was outwardly, but truly he was ecstatic because now the two of you walk to Furin and back home together, and he no longer spends all day with the worry of your ex showing up without him there to protect you. Most nights he slept better too, though that may only be because his dreams swirled in your redolence of decadent tarred honey and musky florals faithfully built that barn night after night. And every night his slumber was swaddled in comforting warmth, and the sound humming over the swaying flowers outside the barn door.

The relationship between you and Sakura didn’t progress beyond ‘friends’ for quite some time, much to the annoyance of many around Furin. It seemed so obvious to everyone, but the two of you, that the simpering looks, words and banter shared between you aren't friend-like. Though, it all became clear when some guy who had been frequenting the Konbini was waiting for you outside after closing up one night. Sakura was usually there waiting too, but he was held up that day.

“Hey, Y/N!” Some guy a little taller than your neighbor, with shaggy blonde hair called with a wave as he walked towards you. Jumping slightly at the sound of your name as you focused on his figure illuminated under the streetlight, but then you recognized him as a regular from the Konbini. Still, you were confused how he knew your name since you weren’t required to wear a name tag, and you didn't go out of your way to tell it to customers. Your eyes darted around as you searched for Sakura. 

“How are you?” Soliciting in a pointed tone while he closed the distance to stand directly in front of you, his muddied-sienna irises leered down at you through his bangs. 

“Go-good… How are you?” Responding timidly as your eyes continued to search for the familiar two toned mane of your protective friend. Raw survival instinct spurred your heart to pound in your ears while your feet froze in place.

“I’m good! I was wondering if I could take you to dinner?” He inquired with a faux saccharine smile that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up as he leaned in closer. The scent of cigarettes and cheap, sandalwood cologne wafted under your nose - turning your stomach.

“N-no thank you - I actually was heading home to cook for me and my neighbor…” you murmured faintly, trailing off as the corners of his mouth dropped completely. Clenching the hem of your jacket in your fists to hide your shaky hands as you peered around for Sakura more urgently.

“He can’t cook for himself?” Cross-questioning gruffly as he cocked his head with a judgmental arch of his brow, then all at once a malicious smirk - more so than a smile - returned to his face. “Why not let a real man take you out? You don’t have to mommy me y’know?” He offered in what may have been an attempt at a seductive tone, but it just made your skin crawl while your bottom lip quivered pathetically. 

“I-I like cooking for us…” mumbling quietly as you feebly projected a defensive air by squaring your shoulders. Desperately, you craned your neck in one direction from the other - looking for your safe person.

“Well, I could show you some other things you might like,” he subtly threatened in a sing-songy voice, accentuated by a sick grin. A predatory glint gleamed in his eye as he took a menacing step towards you.

“Sa-Sakura!” Crying out as your feet finally unglued from the ground, allowing you to take a step back. Desperately you hoped that the guy would back off, but his grin only widened as he reached out to grab you.

“Oi! Don’t touch her!” A familiar voice echoed from down the street, accompanied by the sound of pounding feet. You whipped your head to the left to see Sakura sprinting towards your attacker with all the fierceness of a wild animal. Your body sagged against the brick wall in relief as tears welled up along your lash line. 

“I wasn’t doing anything - no idea she had a boyfriend,” immediately the man muttered and threw both his hands up in the air, but Sakura wasn't listening as his fist connected with the guy's nose - knocking him to the ground. Your attacker’s face was covered in blood and his nose was stuck at an odd angle, but he barely noticed as he scrambled to his feet and sprinted away.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here when you got out, are you okay?” Sakura whirled around, voice dripping in concern, as he looked you over head to toe for any injuries. His face held all the likeness of a housecat worriedly trying to comfort its owner. A bi-colored pair of slate and amber eyes brimmed with fear, and his face was set with worry. In all the close calls that’ve happened around Furin, he’s never worn this expression in front of you before - certainly not towards you either.

“I’m okay,” you assured him with a small nod as you dried salty tears on your sleeve, while he heaved a relieved sigh. “Thank you for saving me, again,” murmuring as you threw a small, grateful smile his way to which he immediately blushed bright red. The walk home was almost silent - both of you glanced at one another until your eyes met and then swiftly looked at the sky or ground.

Awkwardness had settled over your apartment as you prepared the meal. A tense silence ensued throughout prepping the veggies all the way to when the pot began to boil, until Sakura piped up from where he sat on your living room floor.

“Do we seem like a couple?” He blurted out suddenly, and for once you were the one red in the face and sputtering as you clutched the counter to ground yourself. 

Blinking rapidly as the words he just uttered processed in his own ears, and then Sakura ended up having a delayed reaction to a much more severe degree than yours. Once you both regained some composure, the two of you settled on the living room floor, not looking at each other, while you tried to discuss your “relationship status”.

“When I tell people that I eat dinner with you every night they think you’re my girlfriend,” he muttered, finally breaking the awkward silence. Dropping your shoulders as you released a pent up sigh, and then glanced over at his beet red side profile.

“Me too,” you sighed soberly. “They always think you’re my boyfriend, or that I want you to be,” you admitted awkwardly, and Sakura immediately nodded in understanding. Though he was still staring at the wall.

“D-do you?” Sakura raised the question cautiously, still not turning around, and fidgeting nervously with his pant leg. A long, pregnant pause passed before you answered.

“We-well, you know my history with dating…” you started softly. “So, I don’t really know… I’ve never had a good experience so I don't know what that would be like or if I want it.” Answering honestly as you dared to glance at Sakura, who was surprisingly looking right at you and not turning away.

“I feel the same way,” he admitted in a defeated voice. “I have no experience, so how would I know if that’s something I want?” Posing rhetorically as a notch formed in his brow. After a moment of thought you breathed in deeply, earning his undivided attention.

“Well, if everyone thinks we’re a couple, or want to be, because of this,” you gestured to the dinner on the table, “or because of how we are with each other, then I guess… I do want to date you…” you admitted, voice inflecting upwards at the end as you shrank away from his intense stare.

Before he could snap, you swiftly added, “I just mean that I like this, and hanging out with you, so if that’s what dating is then I’m okay with that.” You explained quickly as Sakura caught his breath. After a while he nodded in agreement.

“I-I like it too,” he said in a sotto voice as he turned to face you fully, shoulders relaxing slightly. “So, I guess, if this is dating… then I’d be okay with it too.” Sakura repeated your words as a confirmation with a firm nod of his head. 

That was how you and Sakura “asked each other out”, though not much changed in your relationship. The biggest difference for Sakura is that the amount of rage he felt towards that guy outside the Konbini - not just for being aggressive with you, but for propositioning you - was now justified, he felt at least.

Though not much has changed in how you treat one another, the way the two of you felt about one another certainly had. For one, Sakura has become far more open with you about a lot of his anxieties around being in a new place where he’s actually accepted. Which led him to divulging what it was like in his hometown. It tore at your heart to hear how unfairly he was treated, but you were honored that he finally felt comfortable enough to talk to you about it. 

For you, the biggest change has been that ever since Sakura has officially been deemed ‘yours’ it’s hard not to see him in a different light. Often you found yourself staring at his side profile when he wasn’t paying attention - the way the two toned locks would blend and frame his face, or the way his jaw curved sharply accentuated by the rare times he would smile. It took your breath away and made your heart stutter every time you caught a glimpse.

Since the two of you spent so much time together, it felt like Sakura’s scent of spiced plum and smoked, balsamic-leather consistently enveloped you in a sense of comforting warmth. Sometimes, when he’d walk you home and his amber eye would meet yours in each other’s peripheral, it glowed in the streetlight and sparked a fluttering in your belly. You would shyly avert your gaze every time, without fail, so you’ve never seen the deep red blooming over Sakura’s shocked expression - sure that he’d been caught appreciatively studying your features as well.

Most noticeably was when the two of you were walking around Furin and you saw other couples strolling around - hand in hand. It always made you peer down at Sakura’s hand, usually tucked in his pocket, as you wondered what it would feel like. The first time you had the thought, it was a week into your relationship and you kept telling yourself to just talk to him about it, or maybe just reach out and grab his hand. But now, months into the relationship, it seemed like the scariest thing in the world.

So, finally, about 3 months after officially becoming Sakura’s girlfriend, the two of you were just hanging out at his place. Since his class revamped his apartment he’d been wanting to hang out there more, and you’ve been more than happy to oblige. Both of you were sitting at his coffee table enjoying a cup together before dinner was ready. 

Over the past several weeks, you’ve been psyching yourself up to get over this ridiculous fear and just touch your boyfriend. Though it seemed like every time you would try, he’d pin you with those bicolored eyes and you’d freeze in place before laughing off your attempt, or refocusing on something else. So today, you decided that you would just go for it while not looking him in the eye. 

Still, it almost became too much when you inhaled, immediately flooding your senses with the piney chocolate, plum-jasmine, and wood musk clinging to him. Silently and oh so slowly, you reached out toward his hand resting on top of his knee, and then gently laid your palm on the back before wrapping your fingers around it. His hand radiated heat, and twitched slightly under your touch. 

At first, Sakura jumped and almost yanked back, but then he noticed that your fingers were trembling around his hand. Pausing, he looked at you closer to see that you were sporting a more vibrant crimson tint than he was. Feeling a little less alone in his awkwardness, he somewhat relaxed before turning his hand over and then opened it slightly so he could hold yours too. Sitting up in surprise, tightening your grip slightly, but you wouldn’t look at him directly yet.

”Sa-Sakura?” You piped up timidly, and he jumped again but kept hold of your hand as he leaned closer to hear you, instantly he was hit with that distinctly exotic tea aroma - spiced, milky with hints of rose water. “Um, I hope it’s okay, but I’d like to try and hold your hand sometimes… If that doesn’t bother you?” Whispering softly without looking at him directly, and his blush deepened even more as he suppressed the knee-jerk reaction to snap at you. Though he couldn’t control the way he’s started hyperventilating at the idea of doing this more.

”Why would that bother me?” He demanded through gritted teeth, but his flushed face told you that he was just as nervous as you. Taking a deep breath, you readied an explanation.

”Be-because… I think physical affection, well, affection in general, makes you uncomfortable, and I can relate to that on the physical affection piece.” Speaking demurely, your fingers were still trembling, so Sakura willed his breathing to even out so he could listen to you properly.

“I-It makes me uncomfortable sometimes too, but I-I don’t want it to?” You said as if it were a question with an upwards inflection at the end. “I wa-want to touch you, and maybe one day kiss you… if that’s okay?” Murmuring timidly as you finally met his gaze with your terrified one. Sakura was so red he was basically a traffic light, but he was also incredibly still as if he was trying his best not to spook you. For a long, long moment the two of you just stared at each other before Sakura finally parted his lips to speak.

”You want to kiss me?” He whispered in utter shock, almost incredulous, but you could tell from the look in his eyes that he was just feeling vulnerable. Slowly you nodded, not breaking eye contact with his two toned gaze.

”Yes… but I’m just afraid, I guess. I was never really shown affection like that growing up, or in my past relationship. Honestly, I think what I was shown could be categorized as physical animosity…” you mused sadly. “So, I don’t know how to and I’m afraid I’ll do it wrong, or mess this up…” you whispered, voice cracking near the end as you trailed off and averted your gaze to the floor.

Another pregnant pause passed before Sakura leaned forward, breathing in your creamy gourmand honey dripping onto a musky floral-cognac essence underneath as he bumped your forehead with his. Looking up at him, brows raised in surprise, just before he leaned in to kiss you.

On instinct, your hand that wasn’t holding his reared back to slap him, but with his cat-like reflexes he caught you with ease. The two of you were caught in a staring contest, both shocked, until you sheepishly breathed out, “Sorry reflex…”

Sakura just gave you a small smile with a sad, knowing glint in his eye. His hair shone under the overhead light giving him an aura much like the moon, while the piney jasmine and earthy camphor that clung to his skin shrouded you in comfort as your shoulders relaxed slightly. 

”I know,” he whispered gently as he leaned in, much slower this time, before capturing your lips with his. It wasn’t a long kiss, and felt a little awkward, but you enjoyed how his lips felt against yours and how, being so close to him, enveloped you in his scent. It wasn’t a movie screen first kiss but it felt safe; and left flavors of decadent, tarred honey hinted with creamy fruit, swirled into a smoky balsamic cocoa that lingered on both of your lips.

When you parted from the kiss, both of you were sporting a deep ruddiness over your cheeks and could barely look each other in the eye for several minutes. After the silence became too much, you finally asked Sakura if he liked it. He looked you dead in the eye, red in the face with a deep furrow in his brow, as he curtly said, “Yes.”

The severity of his expression made you burst into giggles - finally dissipating your tension, but when you met your boyfriend's gaze again, he was staring at you with nervous desperation. Cocking your head in question until he lowered his head slightly to look up at you through thick lashes, face burning still, and quietly muttered, “What about you?”

“I liked it a lot,” you confessed, beaming at him brightly with an excited gleam in your eyes, despite the fine dusting of pink still clinging to your cheeks. Sakura was stunned into silence at your open confession, but his nerves finally calmed a bit. After the two of you recovered from this development in your relationship, you both looked down to see you’ve been holding hands this whole time. Sakura turned beet red again, but didn't let go until it was time to say good night.

Honestly, after this, your relationship takes a long time to progress beyond hand holding and a private peck here, and there - you two just go at a slower pace, but that’s okay!

Sakura does immediately start holding your hand in public after that night, though he is very defensive about it at first - especially when his friends tease him. Regardless of his embarrassment or the ribbing, Sakura will faithfully keep holding your hand. Even when the teasing becomes a bit too much and he turns on his heel to walk away - you better believe he’s dragging you right along with him.

As for the private pecks, the two of you don’t kiss again for a couple of weeks. It only started becoming a regular thing when Sakura had to rush out the door one morning to help settle a Furin issue, and you assured him he could go on ahead and that you would see him later.

As he was saying goodbye he leaned in and pecked your lips quickly before rushing off. It took him half the day to realize what he did, and he was only able to piece it together after Suo and Nirei asked him why he kept making a weird face throughout the day. He mentioned that he tasted something sweet as he mulled the spiced-honey with a creamy hint of fruit over his tongue. When they asked him if he ate or drank something different that day, Sakura looked deep in thought before responding.

“I don’t think so…” his voice trailed off just before it dawned on him that he kissed you before running out the door this morning. He was a reddened mess for the rest of the day - he even apologized for it when you saw him later on. But you just shrugged and told him you liked it - which made him hide his face he was blushing so violently - but he took that as the okay to start giving you goodbye kisses at home. 

At around the 6 month mark in your relationship is when the two of you cuddle for the first time. Not intentionally, you invited Sakura over to watch a movie and fell asleep on his shoulder near the beginning. Your neck was in an awkward position, so he felt like he needed to reposition you. Which is how you ended up tucked into his side, his arm around your shoulders and your head laid on his chest. Hints of slightly musky cognac, creamy honey and rich, spiced almonds swirled together to invade his senses with each soft breath that puffed past your lips and  fanned against his chest.

He almost glowed in the dark from the scarlet tint sweeping over his face. Actually, he intended to just lay you down on the couch to sleep, but maneuvering a sleeping person was much more difficult than he realized. When you woke to the aroma of ripened fruit, roasted coffee and woody jasmine, you discovered that Sakura had lulled off to sleep with his arms loosely around you.

Remorsefully, you woke him up, but then you proposed that he spend the night. He hesitated at first, but when you added that you just wanted to sleep, maybe cuddle, he cautiously agreed. Sakura spooned you through the night, which ended up becoming a semi-regular thing in your relationship. Though Sakura might actually blush to death if anyone ever found out.

It was certainly strange and new to both of you, but good nonetheless. When you were in his arms, Sakura felt like that tightrope was plucked right out of existence, and all that was left was a breathtaking meadow of flowers that smelled just like you. Whenever you were enveloped in Sakura’s embrace, you felt warm, protected, safe… and finally, after so many months of wondering, you were able to place what his scent was reminiscent of. 

It’s a place you’ve never really known, but still desperately dreamed of since you were a little girl. Through those loud, screaming nights where no one was allowed to sleep; through those never ending shifts in the dank, dusty konbini; through all those times you were alone. The one thing you were always searching for, even if you didn’t realize it at the time, was home. 

Sakura was your home. It would take him years to vocalize it, but eventually Sakura pieced together that the warm barn, floral meadow, and melodic singing in his dreams all represented that place for him as well. Not until many, many years later - when you two had been married for some time, and were expecting your first child did he finally say it out loud. That you were his home too.

Master List (I have no rights to these characters, the works they come from, or the art/screenshots/manga panels used in this post. Screenshots taken from pinterest, so if you know the creator please lmk! Divider is from @sweetmelodygraphics)

Tag List (lmk if you want to be added): @nymphsdomain