#barely recovered from the shock of almost dying

[notfreetoday]

Survivor's Guilt

For the second time in his life, Team is pulled out of the pool after almost dying. For the second time in his life, he's screamed at for drowning, for nearly dying, for doing something wrong.

And it's his fault again, all over again. His fault for swimming without permission, his fault for drowning, his fault for needing Win to save him just like how he needed his brother to do the same all those years ago because after all this time he still hasn't learnt how to save himself, still hasn't learnt how to stop upsetting the people who love him and it's no wonder Win is so angry with him, no wonder Win raises a fist at him just like how his mother raged at him for killing her son and of course he should be beaten, of course he deserves to never be forgiven because like his mother said he should have been the one to die and he's sorry, Team's sorry, he's so, so sorry, Hia, Hia please-

But this time Hia embraces him.

This time Hia cries for him.

This time Hia tells him to never, ever do that again because I can't lose you, Team-

And Team realizes that this time, the anger carries worry, not condemnation. This time, he is cared for, he is wanted, and it's okay that he survived.

This time, Team can finally return the embrace, and when he cries, he cries for the both of them.

[jinwoosbabyboo]

"Safe and sound....Kinda" pt. 2

You went M.I.A. and the LADS Men are stressed!

Xavier

"It's been almost a week Jeremiah we need to check places the hunter association won't look" Xavier was already on the move heading towards the first No-hunt Zone of many. Jeremiah trailed behind him almost jogging trying to keep up.

"I understand that Xavier, but you're not in the right head space to-" Jeremiah swallows his words when Xavier whipped around abruptly getting in his face. "to what? Find the love of my life? I'm done waiting around twiddling my thumbs she could be out there dying for all we know"

Xavier turned on his heels and continued on his path "If your way of helping is planting seeds of doubt then don't follow me"

After two days of non-stop searching he did it. In the deepest parts of the forest Xavier found himself at the tip of your Hunters sword nearly taking his head off. His eyes widened in shock just as yours did when you realized who you were looking at "Xav......?" Your words faded as you dropped your sword and fell into his chest almost knocking him over.

"Where have you been? What are you doing in this zone its dangerous"

"I got pulled into a rift I've been fighting alone for five days" Your breathing was labored before you began to cough. Xavier flinched from the death grip you had on his arm as you tried to keep yourself upright. That's when he noticed your ripped clothes. Since when was your uniform so short and revealing?

It wasn't.

You'd been tearing your clothes to bandage your wounds, but they weren't doing so well considering they were soaked through in old and fresh blood. Your shoes were missing along with your socks. "I kept fighting because I knew...." A cough tore from your chest making your throat burn as you coughed up blood. "....I knew you'd find me" Your grip loosened as you went slack in his arms.

"Of course I'd find you" Xavier managed you wrangle you onto his back as he sent his coordinates to Jeremiah to come and pick the two of you up. "Just hang on a little longer"

Sylus

You dragged your shoulder along the wall of a back alleyway before dropping falling flat on the ground. You don't know how many days it's been since you told Sylus you'd be back in less than a day. Your vision blurred as your head swam from exhaustion and dehydration.

"I see her!" That voice sounds familiar....

You feel two sets of hands on you pulling you into a sitting position, but your head is so heavy. "Just let me sleep for a while"

"No you have to stay up Boss is almost here" Luke?

"Stay with us" Kieran?

You felt that comforting red and black mist engulf you and soon you were cradled in Sylus' arms. If you didn't know any better you'd say Sylus looked as if he'd been crying. His eyes seemed bloodshot, but what do you know you can barely keep your eyes open. You're probably seeing things.

"Why didn't you call me?"

"I dropped my phone & a wanderer shattered my watch .... along with my wrist .... I figured if I got close enough to the N109 Zone .... you would find me" A weak smile graced your lips. "Looks like I was right"

"Let's get you home" He whispered and it was the last thing you heard before your head bobbed one last time and darkness consumed you.

Sylus made sure you had the best medical care money can buy while staying in the comfort of his king sized bed. He wouldn't leave your side as you slowly recovered. "Were you crying over me?"

"Shut up and take your pain meds"

Sylus is hard to write because that man got Mephisto on our ass 24/7

Zayne & Rafayel here ♡

[slut4thebroken]

Urges

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jason Todd x reader

Summary | The Lazarus Pit had some unexpected side effects.

Warnings | 18+, sexual content, smut, grinding, in public, humiliation, light dubcon, multiple orgasms, no female orgasms, so much come, like genuinely so much, angst?, fluff, Jay is secretly a sweetheart and a simp, obviously.

Words | 2.8k

Notes | Based on this. (Lol imagine that’s you know what all over him in the pic🫣🤭)

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

The pit didn’t just give him trauma— it affected his body too, giving him enhanced strength, speed, durability, and healing. But there was another, lesser known side effect. 

Honestly he hasn’t even thought about it for the past few years- always too focused on recovering from fucking dying, then on revenge and helping Gotham the way Batman couldn’t. But once it hit him… it hit him like a ton of bricks.

He doesn’t know where Batman or Nightwing were and why they weren’t with you, but there you were, the Batgirl suit even more flattering on your now mature body, making his cock strain in his pants. And you— you stupid little girl— decided to go after him alone. 

He tried to fight it, really he did, but when he had you pinned under him in a matter of seconds, he couldn’t help the way he pushed his crotch against you, trying to get a little bit of relief. 

“W- Get off me, you fucking creep!” You yelled once you noticed. He didn’t give you an answer because he knew exactly what would shut you up. So he took off the helmet and tossed it to the ground as your eyes widened. “Jason?” You said through a breath, making him growl at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue. He parted your legs, then settled between them and leaned over you as he rutted against your clothed heat. He only lasted a few seconds before the tightness of his pants became painful, so he leaned up to open them and pull his cock out. 

“What the hell are you doing?” You gasped, but there was no malice in your tone. Just pure shock and arousal. He leaned back down, shoving his face in the crook of your neck and inhaling deeply, not able to control the way his hips started rutting against you  just from your scent. You still wear the same fucking perfume that always used to make his cock fatten up in his pants whenever he got too close to you. 

He was panting against your neck now, his cock, trapped between your bodies, growing so incredibly sensitive that it almost fucking hurt. And his balls— god, he doesn’t ever remember a time in his life where they were this fucking heavy and full and aching. 

It wasn’t long before he was nearing his orgasm, especially when he focused on your breath on his neck and the way the swell of your tits felt against his chest. He choked out a moan, not able to control the way he started whimpering- so fucking desperate for relief. His brows furrowed, mouth open in a silent moan as his cock started twitching, then shot out rope after rope of come. He’s had enough orgasms to know that the way this one felt was definitely not normal. Even after a few years without it, it shouldn’t be this fucking intense and long. 

“God- what the fuck?” He whined, hips still desperately rutting against you as he rode out the endless orgasm. He could feel the mess through his own layers of clothing and he knew that your suit would be fucking wrecked when he was done. But it didn’t stop. He came for what felt like hours, listening to the pulse in your neck, smelling your perfume, feeling the delicate skin on his lips. 

“Fuck,” He whimpered, still rutting against you, but the friction was starting to lessen because of his cock being completely soaked with come. His balls just barely lightened, still feeling incredibly full and sore. When he finally, finally felt his orgasm fading, his hips slowed to a stop as he panted, trying to catch his breath. 

“Jesus fucking christ-“ You moaned through a breath. His cock twitched at the sound of your voice, never even having a chance to start softening before his whole body burned with need again. He leaned up to examine the mess, finding the entire crotch area of both of your suits completely soaked, as well as most of your mid sections too. He looked down further, finding come still dripping down the flushed tip all the way to his balls. His cock was so hard, it was almost visibly throbbing and his balls looked almost as full as they felt. 

“Jason?” You asked quietly, making his eyes snap up to yours with a growl. Your cheeks were pink, lips red and swollen as if you were biting them and he wanted nothing more than to shove his cock between them and make you drink his come, but even with the primal urges overtaking his brain, he couldn’t do that. Not to you. So with another growl he flipped you over, his come making a slapping sound as you landed. This time he kneeled over your legs instead of between them and he laid over you again to hold you still as started rutting against your covered ass. 

If he thought the smell of your perfume was intoxicating, it was nothing compared to your hair. He took a deep breath and let out a quiet groan, remembering how he used to be able to smell it when you hugged him. But back then it didn’t make him feel like this— it didn’t make his cock throb and it didn’t make him start whining. 

“Jason,” You suddenly said, trying to push yourself up, but his entire body weight was holding you down. He didn’t want to listen to your protests— to your rejection, so he placed a hand over your mouth, making you release a startled moan. 

“Shh, I’m sorry. It’s okay, I just- I need this, baby— need you.” You whined against his palm, the sound sending a jolt to his cock. 

It took every fiber of his being to not tear your suit and fuck your cunt- fill you up with load after load of his come until you milked him dry. But through those thoughts, he could hear a quiet voice reasoning that he wouldn’t be able to come back from that and he would lose you forever. And even though his cock was begging to be buried in a tight, warm cunt— in your tight, warm cunt— he knew it was true. So this would have to do for now. Just thinking about fucking you had him barreling toward his second orgasm. 

“Oh fuck- oh my god.” He whined, resting his forehead on your shoulder. His free hand was clenched so hard to keep from touching your tits, or anywhere else, that his fingers were starting to hurt.  

Despite him pinning you down completely, you managed to push your hips up a little, pressing your ass even harder against his cock. The action had him gasping out as he fell over the edge again. He couldn’t hold in the whimpers and moans as his cock twitched between your ass and his pelvis, spurting ropes of come into the tight space. His balls were practically throbbing— pulsing with each shot of come that left his cock. 

He continued rutting against you desperately, trying to get the most out of this agonizingly long orgasm. While he could feel some of his come coating his cock, it seemed like most of it landed on the small of your back that was arched as you held your hips up. The ache in his balls was already starting to alleviate, but they weren’t empty yet, so he sat up on his knees to continue, groaning at the sight of the entire lower section of your midriff covered in his come.

“Jason?” You asked quietly, but he ignored you as he lifted you onto your knees, pushing you down by your upper back when you tried to rise on your hands. 

“I’m sorry- Just one more, I promise, baby, one more.” He whined, positioning you how he wanted, with your legs squeezed together. The sight of his come rolling up your back into your cape had his cock twitching in need, so he slipped between your thighs and immediately started fucking you. There was enough come covering his length that the friction didn’t hurt, but honestly he could’ve used a little more friction, especially because the material of your suit had him sliding in and out easily. 

His hands moved to your hips, gripping tight enough to make you whimper so that they didn’t drift to your ass. Bucking into you as he desperately chased relief again, his eyes trailed all over your body, mostly focusing on your ass through the skin tight suit, but moving up your come covered back too. His balls slapping against your thighs with each thrust was almost starting to hurt, but he couldn’t stop— not even if he wanted to. 

“Oh god- I’m so close. Almost there, baby. Just one more I think— Just one more and I’ll feel better.” He choked out, bucking into you wildly. The sound of his wet pants hitting your wet suit was deafening on the otherwise quiet rooftop. When you squeezed your thighs together even harder, he let out a broken moan, cock throbbing, anxiously awaiting the pleasure. 

“Oh fuck-“ He groaned, cock twitching between your legs as his come shot out, painting your stomach. Quickly pulling back, he fucked his fist, watching as his come covered your ass and dripped down your thighs. “Shit,” He whimpered, when it just didn’t stop. It was less than his previous orgasms, but still enough that you were practically kneeling in a pool of his come. The last few spurts landed on his fist, dripping down his hand to the puddle on the ground as he panted, trying to catch his breath. 

Releasing his cock, he watched the way it still twitched pathetically, but despite that, he knew he was done. What he didn’t know however, was how he was going to clean all of this shit up. His cock was slick with his arousal, dripping down to his balls, adding to the mess on his pants. His hand and clothes were in a similar state. 

“Jay?” You asked quietly, making his eyes snap up to you. 

“Shit-“ He helped you up so you were sitting in front of him. The come that was on your stomach had rolled up to your chest, coating your tits, making him hiss as his cock twitched at the sight. You were practically covered head to toe in it. “I- Are you…” You flung yourself at his body, wrapping your arms tight around his torso in a hug. He tried not to focus on the way that his come would now be on his chest too. When you pulled back— way too soon, he thought with a frown— you slapped his arm, making him grab the slightly aching spot. 

“Ow- What the hell?” 

“You have a lot of fucking nerve to be asking me that when you’re the one who needs to start explaining.” You growled, crossing your arms over your chest with a scowl. 

“…You’re mad?” He asked sheepishly, watching your expression start to shift into one of amusement before you hardened it again. 

“You’re dead. What the fuck, Jason?” 

“I’m sorry. Can we just- go somewhere other than here and get cleaned up, then I’ll explain?” He asked, gesturing to the pool of come you were both in. A light blush painted your cheeks when you glanced at the mess. 

“Fine.” 

He took you to his safe house and apologized profusely, promising to clean your suit for you. Only once you were both dressed in his clothes and sat on the couch did you suddenly realize that Jason is in front of you. Jason who you haven’t seen in years, Jason who’s older now, but still just as pretty as the day you met him. Jason who you couldn’t save.

“How long have you been back?” You asked, trying to hide your emotions as you crossed your arms over your chest and cleared your throat.

“I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner. I had to… work through some things.” You tried to wait patiently for him to explain, but it didn’t seem like he was going to do that anytime soon, so you continued.

“Tell me what happened. I don’t understand how you’re here right now.” He sighed, glancing away from you. 

“Do you know what the Lazarus Pit is?”

“The thing Ra’s Al Ghul uses, right?”

“Yeah… He- put me in it. That’s how I’m back.” He muttered. 

“Shit- are you okay?” You’ve heard the stories of what it can do to a person and your chest ached knowing that he went through something like that. 

“I’m alive.” He shrugged with a dry chuckle. 

“I’m sorry.” You moved to wrap your arms around him in a hug, but stopped when he leaned back. When he saw your hurt expression, he rushed to explain himself. 

“It’s not you! I just- I can already smell you from here and it’s taking everything in me to not do something I’ll regret. Again.” Your brows furrowed in confusion but when you glanced at his crotch, your eyes widened in understanding. 

“I don’t understand how you can still be hard after that. Actually- I don’t even understand how that was possible in the first place.” 

“I didn’t know it was possible either… When I came back, I was different— stronger, faster. I guess that changed too.” He explained and you nodded in understanding even though it still barely made sense to you. “Plus the last time I came was like a week before I died so it’s been a while.” 

“Jesus- Jason, tmi.” 

“That’s tmi?” He scoffed in disbelief. “I just fucking came on you three times and that’s too much?” 

“Oh my god- stop.” You muttered, burying your burning face in your hands. “Why did you wait so long though? I mean, I’m assuming you had at least a little bit of time after you came back.” 

“The thought never even crossed my mind. Not until— until I… saw you.” He mumbled the last part so you could barely hear it, but you did. “Look, I’m really fucking sorry. I know it’s not an excuse to say I couldn’t control myself, but even then, I still shouldn’t have done it.” 

“You don’t have to apologize.” 

“Are you kidding? I assaulted you!” He exclaimed, making you roll your eyes. 

“Okay well maybe my mess wasn’t nearly as bad as yours, but if you’d bothered to check, you would’ve found evidence to the contrary.” His eyes widened slightly, lips parted in shock. 

“You-“ His eyes moved down to your pants as if he’d be able to see what you were talking about.  “I don’t… What?” 

“You’re so clueless sometimes, you know that?” You chuckled, giving him a small smile. 

“I’m not.. clueless. I was just distracted.” He muttered, a blush painting his cheeks. 

“Uh huh. I have a question.” You said, changing the subject. 

“Shoot.”

“Why me? I’m sure you saw plenty of other girls throughout the years so why did I make you break?” His lips curled up into a small smile and you couldn’t help but feel like there was an inside joke you weren’t a part of. 

“You’re so clueless sometimes.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You frowned. 

“Jesus- I don’t know what job you have, but I really fucking hope you’re not a detective.” He chuckled and you hit his arm again. 

“Shut up. Just tell me.” His expression suddenly dropped into a more serious one and you felt anxiety start to twist in your stomach. 

“Because I’ve had a crush on you since we were like 14.” He muttered. You stared at him in shock and when he turned to finally look at you, you could see the moment where he realized he wanted to backtrack. “Which is really fucking awkward if you have a boyfriend or don’t feel the same way because I did not think this through nearly enough,” 

“Me too.” You said, putting an end to his rambling. 

“What?” He choked out. 

“I’ve had a crush on you too. But since we met, not since we were 14.” 

“You did?” 

“Yeah… Why did you think I was so fucking awkward around you?” You chuckled, making him smile. 

“I don’t know, I just thought you were awkward.” He shrugged. “Do you… still have a crush on me?” He asked coyly, as if he was giving himself the opportunity to pass it off as a joke. 

“I wouldn’t have let you come on me three times if I didn’t.” You said teasingly, your smile widening from his reaction. You liked turning the tables, making him blush for once. “Do you still have a crush on me?”

“I wouldn’t have come on you three times if I didn’t.” 

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Hello! 👋👋

I saw that your requests were open and I was wondering if you could write something romantic between a farmer that suffers fainting from low blood pressure with the sdv bachelors + mr qi, pretty please?

Hey hey 👋

I've already closed the requests, but I got your question before my askbox was closed! Thank you for your ask, dear anon, and enjoy! 😊💕

_________________________________________

Bachelors (+Mr. Qi) x Farmer who fainted from low blood pressure:

Harvey:

Harvey rushed faster than a bullet, when, picking up the phone call, he heard Marlon's voice, which only said: "There's Farmer-" Not another word - the first-aid kit in hand, and quickly to the Mines!

Hadn't the doctor told his spouse not to overdo in their adventures, or they'd faint again from physiological hypotension!

Good thing Harvey knew this in advance, and was able to immediately provide the necessary care and help Farmer get home.

Not once did he say "I told you so!", but just ran around his dear lover like a mama hen, carefully helping them recover.

No overexertion, mandatory rest, and proper diet, not cakes and coffee! Doctor's orders! Otherwise Harvey will use his secret weapon against the most difficult patient in his life - he'll cry he'll do the "stern look." Harvey loves Farmer a lot, but they nearly scare him to death.

Alex:

Everything happened so suddenly that Alex barely had time to react and catch Farmer in his arms, so that they did not fall on the ground.

The athlete is in complete shock: first his lover was standing next to him, chatting and laughing at his jokes, and now - they are unconscious in Alex's strong hands.

Half a minute of panic, but he immediately picked up Farmer bride-style and ran towards the Clinic, shouting about the emergency. Alex nearly ran over Maru and stunned Harvey with his call because Farmer is dying!

About an hour in and Farmer is fine, the doctor explained that their blood pressure had dropped and it was a side effect of the phytotherapy that Farmer was practicing, brewing potions from the local gifts of nature.

So now, almost all the potions ended up being poured down the sink, and Alex began to seriously monitor Farmer's health, reminding them to rest and follow a healthy lifestyle with him. As well as taking proven medicines, not decoctions of purple mushrooms.

Elliott:

"Don't forget to drink the water." "Honey, did you drink the water?" "Are you going on an adventure? Don't forget the water bottle." "Honey, you sure are exhausted in the field, have some cool water." "You need water?"

Elliott will definitely ask his spouse three times during the day if they've drunk enough water today. The poet and before that always watched to make sure his dear spouse didn't overwork themself, naturally.

But he became fixated because of the fact that Farmer had passed out right in front of him, leaving Elliott utterly confused and panicked. Harvey reported that their blood pressure was very low and the cause was severe dehydration. Farmer just forgot...

And now the ginger poet has almost become fixated on water because he doesn't want to see the love of his life in a fainting state anymore. It's a good thing he was around, what if it had been Mines? Farmer still feels some guilt over the awkward incident, and Elliott himself doesn't want to be bothered with overprotective behavior after all, but just remember to have a drink, okay?

Sam:

When Sammy decided to please Farmer with new issues of the comic book they were just crazy about, he didn't think his lover would literally faint from happiness. But the young musician realized that it was not an overabundance of happiness, but something very serious.

It was good that the clinic was not far away, and Sam, with the help of Pelican Town residents passing by, was able to get Farmer to one of the rooms, where the doctor came running immediately to help.

Sam was nearby, worried, not knowing what to think. Is Farmer going to be all right? Did he need to do anything? He could quickly supply what Harvey needed, just tell him what to do!

But all it took from Sammy was to be there for Farmer (of course he wouldn't leave his love!) and listen to the instruction on what hypotension was and how to give Farmer help. Sam even wrote it all down in his notebook so he wouldn't forget, and he wouldn't let it happen again.

Shane:

Shane's morning didn't start with a cup of coffee, but with running around the house trying to find the damn first aid kit. His spouse just steeled themself from the bed - and fell over with a rock, causing Shane to jump at the sound like scalded boiling water.

First aid administered, Farmer back on the couch, already conscious, and Shane, finally finding that damn first aid kit, treated the scratches that his spouse had gotten from the fall.

It's a good thing the chicken man was prepared for this in advance (thanks, Harv), because it's not the first time Farmer has passed out from a rapid drop in blood pressure. And their abrupt transition from lying down to an upright position was to blame.

"Jumped up like a goat for a game work, heh? Too excited?" A tired Shane lay down next to Farmer when he was sure they were okay and kissed them on the cheek.

Sebastian:

Sebastian literally turned away for a second, and suddenly heard the sound of falling tools, his lover on the floor. You could tell that the emo's heart stopped beating with horror.

Thankfully, he wasn't home alone, and quickly carried Farmer from the garage to the couch while his mother Robin looked for a first aid kit.

No serious injuries, just a little bruise on their right arm from the fall, Sebby sighed in relief as he sat on the couch and stroked the waking Farmer's head.

He'd be a little bit barking at himself for thinking he hadn't noticed Farmer's premise that their blood pressure had dropped, to which his lover would quickly shush him.

At least everyone's okay, but damn, what a scary moment it was to the point of.... Because the garage is full of sharp and blunt objects, and if Farmer had fallen on one of them...

Mr. Qi:

"Even heroes have to know their limits," Qi thought, shaking his head as he approached Farmer who lay unconscious on the grass. His mind replayed a moment from the past when his lover had shared a bit of their medical history about chronic low blood pressure, but assured the mystical man that they were fine and it wouldn't affect their assignments.

It really wouldn't have been affected if his stubborn hero wasn't constantly trying to bite off more than they could swallow. Complete one task - a well-deserved rest, rather than going, exhausted, to the next.

Farmer woke up lying on a velvet couch, with a round table with medicine and a glass of cool water next to it. They carefully stood up, and saw their lover, Mr. Qi, sitting in the chair next to them, whose gaze was impossible to see because of the thick lenses of his violent glasses.

"I think we have something to discuss." From the tone of voice, Farmer was relieved to realize that Qi wasn't angry with them, only worried. But talking about wiser decisions in the name of preserving their health was indeed necessary.

[mauswrites]

Fear (Simon Riley x AFAB!GN!Reader)

A/N: I was recently reminded of my worst fear, that being cryptic pregnancy (No weight gain, no symptoms, no nothing. You don't know about the baby until it's on its way out) and can't stop thinking about it, so I decided to write a fic to get it out of my system. (sorry if this sucks, this is the first fic I've published in like almost a decade)

Genre: hurt/comfort

TW: Blood, mentions of childbirth, medical inaccuracies, possibly OOC Ghost, reader genuinely thinks they're dying

You couldn't sleep.

Not because of the thoughts racing in your mind but of the unbearable pain in your abdomen.

Occam's razor would tell you that it was just your period, but you've never experienced cramps like this before, like being torn in half.

With a huff, you shove the blanket off your body and get up, but as soon as your feet hit the floor, pain shoots up your spine, causing you to crumple to the floor, wailing out in agony. You clutch your stomach, forcing air in and out of your lungs.

Why am I wet? you thought.

The pain had distracted you until now, but you managed to reach for your bedside lamp to see blood running down your legs.

A lot of it, too.

As the fear settled in your bones, you hurry to get your phone and call for an ambulance.

"999, what's your emergency?"

"I don't know what's wrong, I'm in a lot of pain, I can't stop bleeding... I-I can't walk."

"Where are you now?"

You give the address to your flat and hang up when the dispatcher assures you that the ambulance isn't far.

Walking may seem impossible, but you manage to crawl to the front door to unlock it, sitting down in the hall, waiting.

Desperation clings to your heart, and you make one more call, this time to your ex-boyfriend, but it went straight to voicemail.

"Simon? Hey, it's me... I just wanted to say I'm sorry. For my attitude, the arguments, all of it."

The blood loss is getting to you, but you take a ragged breath and press on.

"I think I'm dying, an ambulance is on their way, but–"

The pain spikes suddenly, causing you to scream.

"In case I do, just know that I love you."

Hearing sirens from outside, you hang up and wait, dreading the black spots in your vision.

The ambulance ride is a blur, the EMT asking questions that your brain isn't processing, and you barely remember being put under at the hospital.

As your eyes flutter open hours later, sunlight leaks into the room through the blinds, and your stomach is sore, but you otherwise feel better.

A nurse is still in the room, typing away on the computer in your room.

"What happened?"

She seemed startled yet relieved at your voice, still groggy from sleep.

"This may come as a shock to you,"

Uh oh.

"But you experienced what's called a cryptic pregnancy and needed to undergo an emergency C-section. The bleeding was caused by a tear in your uterine lining, but you'll recover just fine."

Her diagnosis hit you like a brick to the face.

"So... I had a baby?"

"Yes, a little girl; a bit premature, but otherwise healthy."

You merely hum in acknowledgement as you look around the room, your eyes landing on the bassinet.

"Would you like to hold her?" the nurse asked.

"I... yes."

She smiles as she walks around the bed, picking up your daughter and passing her to you.

A lump forms in your throat as you lock eyes with the infant in your arms, hers a deep brown.

"Um... hello," you say, "it's nice to meet you."

As you fall silent, the nurse pipes up once again.

"I'll leave you two be for now. If you need anything, don't hesitate to call for someone."

You quickly thank her before she leaves, closing the door behind her, and you quickly turn your attention back to your daughter.

Your heart and mind were both racing as you admired her, even softly speaking to her every so often. For seconds or hours, you're not quite sure, but you only snapped out of your trance when the door opened.

You watch as Simon comes in and pulls up a chair next to your hospital bed, on the same side as the bassinet, all without a word.

"I'm guessing they wouldn't let you in looking like the Grim Reaper," you joked, taking note of the black surgical mask on his face, "How've you been?"

"I should be asking you," he said, "that voicemail scared the shit outta me."

"I've been..."

What do you even say?

"Honestly, not great; missed you like hell," you admit, casting your eyes back down to your baby and letting her tiny hand grip onto one of your fingers, "but I think I'll be okay."

"Cute little thing," he said, referring to your little girl.

"Thanks, I made it myself."

"Got a name yet?"

"Haven't exactly had much time to think of one," you reply, "got any ideas?"

"You told me you always liked the name Emilia."

"That's true. Seems it's settled then," you do your best to straighten up, "Simon, meet Emilia... Riley?"

"Riley," he confirmed, making you smile for the first time in a while.

"Do you want to hold her?"

He nodded, and you placed a kiss on her forehead before passing her over to him.

She already looked tiny in your arms, but compared to Simon's much bigger frame, she was damn near microscopic. He was practically holding her with just his hands, handling her delicately, like one wrong move would cause her to fall apart.

"What d'you say you come back home," he said, "We try again, be a family."

"Is that actually what you want? I don't want to be the parents that are only together for our child's sake."

"I mean it."

"That's good," you pause, fighting back tears, "Promise I won't be such a bitch this time 'round."

"You say that like I was a saint."

"Then we'll both be better, for each other and for her."

"Deal."

You silently admire the scene before you for a few minutes until the nurse from earlier returns.

She asked some questions about you and the baby, filled in some blanks on the birth certificate, and stepped out to bring you some ice water, leaving you to think about the past twelve hours.

"I'm honestly dreading going back to my flat." you thought aloud.

"Why?" Simon asked. He carefully placed Emilia back in the bassinet, giving you his full attention.

"There's blood everywhere."

"I'll take care of it; you just rest up and heal," he stood as he spoke, taking off his mask to kiss your temple, but before he had a chance to walk away, you placed a hand on his shoulder, urging him to stay.

"Promise you'll come back?"

"Promise."

As he left, the weight of the situation settled deep in your bones, but you found solace in knowing that you wouldn't have to face it alone, and that things would hopefully turn out better this time around.

[daryltwdixon]

The Ruins of Us: Chapter 25

Summary: you finally make your way to talk to Randy, but the situation turns dangerous when you get caught. During a flashback, Daryl sits with you by the quarry, before Shane or talks of college, and as you talk and laugh, he finds himself overwhelmed by unspoken feelings for you. 

warnings: Shane is pretty scary in this one, no other warnings apply. as always lmk if I forgot any!

X flashforward x

The barn is quiet, save for the distant murmur of Shane and Andrea’s hushed conversation outside. You know this could potentially be a terrible idea, but you needed to know. Needed to talk to Randy yourself. The wood of the barn slat wall creaks as you lean against it, walking along the side to the back door. You glance back one last time, making sure Andrea and Shane are still distracted before slipping inside. The scent of old hay and dust fills the space, your footsteps soft on the dirt floor as you make your way to the center of the barn.

The midday sun peaks through the gaps where the wood has rotted in the ceiling above as you take in the sight of him. Randy sits tied to a wooden post, his bruised and bloodied face twisted in discomfort, but when he spots you, something flickers in his eyes—hope. He straightens slightly, doing his best to look less like a beaten man and more like someone worth trusting. His brown puppy dog eyes are alight with enthusiasm as he looks at you.

“You came back,” he says, his voice soft, almost grateful. “I was hoping you would.”

You cross your arms, standing just far enough away to keep your distance. “I need answers.”

“Look, I’m not like those other guys. I’m just trying to survive, same as you.”

You study him, not moving an inch. “And that’s why you were running with a group of men who tried to kill my people?”

Randy lets out a shaky breath, his expression carefully constructed to appear sincere. “I didn’t have a choice, okay? Your guys shot first–killed a couple of our guys!-- but then the dudes I was with left me there to die, man! I’ll take you guys to them, explain what happened. No one’s gonna get hurt, we can all work together!” he’s trying to keep his voice down, you can tell, but his words are desperate.

You narrow your eyes, the alarm bells ringing in your head. You can’t tell what to believe. The Randy you remember from the overcrowded house party was goofy, sweet, maybe a little dumb. But this world changed people. 

“These guys here, they don’t listen to me,” he insists, his voice rising, “But you will. I remember you, Y/N. You were always so nice. Real pretty too, still are.”

“You don't even know me, we met one time, Randy,” you roll your eyes, “I was drunk and needed a distraction. Now tell me where your group is.”

His face falls for just a second before he scrambles to recover. “I–I don’t know. We moved around a lot. Please don’t let them kill me, Y/N. I know they’re gonna,”

His eyes dart toward the door, where Shane and Andrea’s voices still carry faintly in the distance. His tone softens again, trying a different approach. “Look, you seem smart. You gotta know I’m not the bad guy here. You help me, and I’ll owe you one. We can both walk away from this.”

You take a slow breath, your arms still crossed as you keep your eyes on him. You hated the idea of him dying just because no one knew what to do with him. But he knew too much, knew too many people here in the group. Knew where this house was, from what Rick said earlier. “I don’t need anything from you, Randy.” you finally say, softly.

Before he can respond, the barn door creaks loudly, and your body alights with shock, freezing you to the spot as you see a tall figure in the doorway, the gleam against him bright from the sun. Shane’s voice cuts through the quiet, rough and edged with suspicion. “What the hell do you think you’re doin’?”

Your heart skips a beat as he steps into the barn, his gaze locked on you, then flicking to Randall with a barely restrained fury. Andrea is behind him with her eyes wide, both hands on her gun that she holds down at the ready. Shane’s eyes narrow as he takes a step toward you, tension radiating from every movement. His eyes flick back to Randall, and the shift in his demeanor is immediate—his shoulders tense, jaw clenched. He stalks toward him, the sound of his boots heavy on the barn floor.

“What the hell did you say to her?” Shane growls, his voice low, dangerous. His hand goes immediately to his gun, bringing it to Randy’s face, and the kid whimpers and whines, pleading with him.

“Shane, enough!” you yell. Andrea is up by you, ready to act, but still telling Shane to stop as well. 

“N-Nothing! I didn’t say anything!” he stammers, standing up in fear, his voice shaking. “I was just trying to talk, that’s all.”

“Just tryna talk?” Shane repeats mockingly, his tone dripping with contempt. He leans in close to Randall, his face inches away from his. “If I find out you said something you shouldn’t have—if you tried to pull anything with her—You’re gon’ wish I left you out on the road earlier,”

Randall’s whole body trembling as Shane takes a step back, holstering his gun and looking at you. 

“I swear, man, I didn’t—” Randy stammers.

“Shut up,” Shane snaps, cutting him off with a glare before turning on you again.

“Get back to the house,” he tells Andrea, not taking his eyes off you. She looks between the two of you for a short moment, before running out of the barn. Now it was just you, him, and Randy. The anxiety you felt skyrockets to fear.

His anger is setting the room ablaze, his eyes furious as he strides toward you. Your body still feels frozen, cold chills keeping you in place as you wait for his reaction. Before you could move, Shane’s hand closes around your arm with a vice-like grip, yanking you away from the scene. His fingers dig painfully into your skin as he drags you behind the barn, out of sight, out of earshot. The isolation hits you, and your heart pounds faster as he pushes you up against the side of the barn, wood digging into your back.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Shane growls, his face inches from yours. His breath is hot, reeking of anger and frustration, “you sneak in here, talking to him behind my back? Are you stupid?”

You try to pull your arm free, but his grip tightens, and a flicker of panic sparks in your chest. “I was trying to get answers,” you say, your voice steady, but the tremor of fear rises beneath the surface.

“Answers?” Shane’s laugh is sharp and humorless. “All he’s gon’ do is try to manipulate you, say all the nice pretty things to you to get you to cave–to let him go off to his group. You know what could happen to you if all those guys come around here?”

His face is close enough now that you can feel the heat radiating off him. He isn’t just angry—he’s furious. And it scares you. Your brows knit as you feel his hand tighten around you, “Shane, let go,” you say, your voice more shaky than you intend.

But Shane doesn’t let go. Instead, he leans in closer, his grip like iron on your arm. 

“You think you’re tough, huh? Think you can handle whatever comes your way? You don’t know a damn thing, Y/N. You’re playin’ with fire, thinkin’ you’re untouchable. And you know what? It’s always me—me—pullin’ you out of the shit you get yourself into. You think you’ve been handling things? No. You’re lucky I’ve been around to clean up your messes. But keep pushin’, and I won’t be there next time. You’ll wish you’d listened.”

Your heart pounds, and for the first time in a long time, your toughness faltered. He’s bigger, stronger, and angrier than you’d ever seen him. When you didn’t answer, he just went on, getting more and more angry with each word.

“Always so reckless. So stupid,” Shane sneers, each word dripping with contempt. “Always messin’ in things that don’t concern you. When you gon’ learn to keep your mouth shut and stay out of the way?” His other hand slams against the wall beside your head, the sound sharp and sudden, making you flinch. 

“Shane,” your voice trembles, “You’re hurting me.”

Shane’s hot breath is still on you as he glares at you and you’re trying to back away from him, but it’s no use, of course. He has you trapped against the wooden wall, the nails between slats now digging into your back from trying to get as far away as possible from him. You weren’t sure how far he was about to take this. His hand on you is like a hot iron brand, and the other one cages you in over your shoulder and by your face. He has you right where he wants you, pinned to the wall, and for a flash of a moment, prickling in your spine has you fearing for your life.

“You’re gon’ wanna let her go now,” a low voice comes from around the corner of the barn.

Shane’s head snapped up, and you turned to see Daryl standing just a few feet away, crossbow raised, his expression cold and controlled. His eyes were fixed on Shane, the tip of his bolt aimed at Shane’s face as he circled around to face you.

Shane’s mouth curled into a bitter smile, an ugly laugh slipping out as he took in the archer, “Aw, ain’t this sweet,” he leered, “The best friend trying to stick up for ‘er after she nearly got herself killed. Typical,” he laughed again, his voice dripping with mockery. “Never could keep her out of trouble, could you, Dixon? Hell, last time you left, I thought she might actually do well for herself, and look at her now. Attached at the hip again, back to doin’ the same ol’ reckless shit with you. But we both know how this ends. You’ll walk away again—leaving her to me to pick up the pieces.”

Daryl is silent as he keeps the crossbow up, pointed at Shane with a hunter’s precision and stillness. Shane just shakes his head, a breathy, cold laugh escaping as he lifts himself off the barn where he’s caging you, and walks off. You watch as he makes his way back to the house, scrubbing his hand on the back of his head and stalking off.

The Shane you knew—the one who used to protect you, the one who was always in control—is slipping further away. That wild look in his eyes, the way he’d grabbed you… You’ve never seen him like that before. And the worst part is, you didn’t know if this was the last time it would happen or just the beginning.

Daryl immediately drops his bow when Shane is a good, safe distance and throws it to the ground, coming to you. His hands hover over you as you close your eyes, trying desperately to calm your breathing, keeping in the tears that threaten to fall. You’d never seen Shane get that volatile. Never actually try to hurt you. Well, that wasn’t true though. The moment he had you pinned at the CDC rings through your mind again, a shiver raking through you at the memory now.

“Did he hurt you?” Daryl asks quickly and quietly, studying your body, your face, while his hands brush over your skin. You grip your arm where it feels like you were branded with Shane’s handprint, trying to soothe your skin, or maybe just soothe yourself. You feel your lip tremble, but bite down on it hard until you start tasting the metallic lingering of blood.

“Hey, hey,” Daryl whispers, you can feel his soft breath over your face, his hands finally coming to rest on your face. Your eyes flutter open to look at him, and the only thing that is keeping you from losing it are his blue eyes on you. You hold onto them with your gaze as you still try to steady yourself. 

His touch is tender, a stark contrast to the violence that had filled the air just moments ago. “Shoulda let that arrow fly,” he muttered, his voice thick with a protective edge.

You let out a humorless laugh, but then swallow hard and shake your head, the warmth of his touch sinking into your skin as you look away, “I don’t know what’s happening to him,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “He’s… different.”

Daryl’s jaw tightens, his expression hardening briefly. “Why’d you have to go in there? I told you to stay away. And with Shane out here–he’s dangerous, Y/N,”

You feel a knot forming in your throat as everything hits you. For a moment, you feel like your walls are crumbling, like the tough exterior you have tried so hard to keep is falling apart. And Daryl—he’s the only person who could ever see through it. He seems to read your mind, because he’s bringing you in close, wrapping his arms around you. You let him, and you rest your face into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent deeply to ground you. Your arms come up under his, gripping the back of his shirt.

When he pulls back, he keeps you in his arms, studying your face again, almost like his wheels are turning quickly, unsure if he should do what he’s thinking of. You tilt your face up, parting your lips, inviting him in, anything to take you out of the moment you were just in. He seems to understand, and leans in and presses his lips softly to yours. The fire that had ignited between you so many times before flickered back to life, and your lips melded together slowly, the tension in your body disappearing. Everything dissolved into this embrace, and you wonder briefly why either of you had waited so long to let this happen. 

When you finally pull back you stay close as you try to catch your breath. You lean your head forward and he kisses your forehead, his hand lingering on your neck, his thumb softly tracing the curve of your jaw as his breath comes out in short, uneven bursts.

“Can’t stand seein’ you like this,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, but filled with something tender, “We can’t keep stayin’ here like this,”

You close your eyes, leaning into him as his words sink in. You know he means he wants to leave the camp, the group. But as much as Shane scares you, the numbers you have here are safer than heading out alone with him, “I don’t want to be scared anymore,” you whisper, barely audible, but you know he heard you.

“You ain’t gotta be,” Daryl whispers back, his voice full of quiet promise, “Not anymore,”

The moment stretches between you, the warmth of his touch and the feeling of safety that came with it. Here, behind the barn, out of sight, with just the two of you, you finally did let yourself believe you would be safe as long as you had Daryl.

X flashback x

Daryl

It was one of those quiet nights, the kind where the world seemed to slow down. The moon hung low over the quarry, casting a pale glow across the water as Daryl sat next to you, an empty pizza box between you two. You were talking about something that had happened earlier, laughing as you recounted the story, but Daryl wasn’t really listening anymore. His focus had shifted—he was watching you, not the stars or the quarry, but you.

This was how you spent a lot of your nights, just the two of you hanging out like it was nothing. But tonight, something felt different. He couldn’t explain it, couldn’t put a name to it, but something had shifted.

You turned to him, your smile easy and bright, the kind that always made something stir in his chest. “Can’t believe you actually finished more slices than me,” you teased, your voice light and playful.

Daryl barely registered the words. His eyes were locked on your face, on the way the moonlight softened your features. Something inside him twisted. He wasn’t sure why, but everything felt more intense tonight. The way you smiled at him, the sound of your laughter—it hit him harder than usual, like a punch to the gut.

You wiped your hands on a napkin, still smiling as you leaned back, content. But there was a softness in your gaze when you turned to him again, a quiet calm that made his heart beat just a little faster.

“It’s nice out here,” you had said, eyes drifting up to the stars. “Quiet.”

Daryl nodded, but his attention stayed on you. He’d never really let himself dwell on how much he enjoyed nights like this, just the two of you. But now, the thought of it ending at any time soon was pressing on him in a way he couldn’t shake.

You had caught him staring, your smile faltering just a bit. You tilted your head, a playful curiosity in your eyes. “What?” you asked, your voice soft but teasing. “You look like you just swallowed a bug or somethin’,”

He swallowed, his throat dry. He didn’t know how to explain it. Didn’t even have the words. All he knew was that being around you felt right, like it was where he was supposed to be. Always had been that way—you were the only person who didn’t expect anything from him, who didn’t judge him, and for once, that thought scared him.

You held his gaze, the silence between you going on what felt like forever. The teasing grin slowly slipped from your lips, replaced by something more serious, more uncertain. Your eyes flicked down for a second, just enough for Daryl to notice, and something clicked in his chest—you had felt it too.

His heart pounded harder, his palms suddenly feeling too warm. He thought about closing the distance between you, thought about what it would be like to lean in, to feel you close. The idea had crossed his mind before. The first time he didn’t even think twice but leaned in while he watched you from the kitchen counter, making up some excuse about seeing it in a movie once. But tonight… different. Like it actually meant something. This wasn’t the same careless move he’d make as a kid, this was real.

But he stayed frozen. His mind screamed at him to stay put, not to push it, not to mess things up. He couldn’t even name what he was feeling, let alone act on it. His gaze lingered on yours for a split second before he tore it away, breaking the silence– his voice rough and quiet, “You gonna eat that last slice?”

You had blinked, the tension easing just a little as you glanced at the pizza box, a small, confused smile creeping back onto your face. “You offering it up?” You had teased, though your voice softened, like you were still recovering from whatever just passed between you.

Daryl shrugged, his heart still racing, but his voice calm as he nodded toward the box. “Ain’t hungry.”

You chuckled, grabbing the last slice and taking a bite, but the mood had shifted. The moment had passed, but the weight of what almost happened lingered between you, unspoken but heavy. Daryl shoved his hands into his pockets, watching you eat, trying to ignore the knot tightening in his chest.

[chrisbitchtree]

Inspired by this post from @ariesbilly!

***

Growing up with Neil Hargrove as a father, Billy was almost too scared to even think about being gay, let alone what his type might be, but he certainly never thought his type would be Just Some Guy™️.

Yet, now that he’s finally away at college and free to explore his sexuality, here he is in the cafeteria with Heather, barely two weeks into his first semester, trying to discreetly point out to her the guy he’s crushing on in his Intro to Psych class.

Steve Harrington. He of the shaggy brown hair constantly covered in a worn baseball cap, circular plastic glasses, and basic t-shirts and jeans. The most exciting his look ever gets is when he wears the baseball cap backwards. Billy swoons a little bit every time he sees him.

“Him?” Heather asks, after he’s confirmed that Billy’s not talking about the fifty other guys with plastic glasses and baseball caps dispersed around the space. “He’s so boring.”

“I know,” Billy replies, sighing. “I don’t know what it is, but there’s just something about him. Last night I had a dream that he was about to take off his glasses before he fucked me and I asked if he could keep them on.”

“Jesus, Hargrove,” Heather laughs as she steals a fry from his plate. “You’ve got it bad. So, what are you going to do about it?”

Billy has no clue. They watch Steve in silence for a couple minutes, until he’s joined by a girl that couldn’t be any more the opposite of Just Some Guy™️. She’s got on bright red Converse that appear to be completely covered in doodles, carpenters pants that are splattered with paint, and the world’s ugliest tie dyed bucket hat. Steve leans over to say something to her and she’s instantly laughing, swatting his arm.

“I don’t even know if he’s into guys,” Billy finally replies. “That could be his girlfriend for all we know. Opposites do attract.”

Heather gives him an affronted look. “First of all, bisexuality exists, jackass, and second of all, unless she’s cheating on him, she’s not his girlfriend. How do I know this, you ask?”

“How?”

“I fucked her last night. And we’re going on a date tonight.”

Billy’s shocked, but recovers to give her a congratulatory high five. His girl’s got game.

“How did that happen?”

“I saw her at that mixer I went to, thought she was hot, asked if she wanted to get a room and that was that.”

Billy shakes his head, laughing. “If only it was that easy for me.”

Heather stacks their trays and grabs them. “Follow me.”

Billy does, curious to see what’s going to happen next. His curiosity turns to horror as she marches over to Steve and his friend. Billy wants to run, but he takes a deep breath and follows her instead, trying to be brave for once.

“Hey Robin, can’t wait for tonight.” She greets the girl before turning to Steve.

“You into guys?”

Steve looks confused, but still nods slowly.

“Great,” Heather says. “You think my boy is hot?”

Steve nods more vigorously than before.

“Perfect,” Heather replies, a smile curling over her lips as she turns to Robin. “Bring him tonight. It’s a double date.”

Billy finally works up the nerve to look directly at Steve and sees a shy grin on his face. Their eyes meet and Billy grins back. Steve might be just Just Some Guy™️ to most, but he’s The Guy, The Only Guy, to Billy.

[byeoltoyuki]

✧memories of us ✧ love again

↳ Pairing: Jisung x Reader

❧ Genre : romance / smut /fluff / 1st love to strangers to lovers

❧ Summary: Sometimes memories are just that. Memories.

A series of drabbles about you and Jisung, about your love and your heartbreak and a second chance.

❧ A/N: Likes and reblogs are appreciated ♥

Masterlist / previous / next

You were covered in paint. Some splashes on your cheeks, a lot on your white, long t-shirt, some on your hands. The whole room was a mess, your kind of mess, a mess that usually led to a good result. Your muse decided to visit you in the middle of the night probably to save you from your own restless mind.

For the past few days, your thoughts were plagued by Jisung and the sweet kiss that happened after the gathering. Just a kiss but enough to set your whole body on fire. You couldn’t think about anything else. Just the kiss and Jisung’s warmth and his arms around you. Every time you laid awake in your bed, your mind would replay the moment, wishing for it to happen again. And it would be so easy, all you had to do was grab your phone and text him; knowing Jisung he would have answered and probably came to your place.

But you did none of that. Jisung was a busy man, especially with the upcoming show; they had to rehearse every single day, making sure it would be perfect. You understood it but it didn’t make things easier for you.

So you painted.

Lost in your own little world, you paid no attention to your surroundings; you didn’t know what time of the night or day it was and you didn’t notice how shyly the sun rose. You didn’t pay any attention to your phone either, not that you expected a call or anything.

Until your doorbell rang. Once, twice. The sound startled you, making you almost drop all the paint on the floor. You blinked confused, slowly coming back from your bubble and only to realize that it was no longer the middle of the night judging by how bright it was outside.

At the third bell, you hurried to your door before the person behind it got too impatient.

“Finally!” Jisung screamed too loudly the moment you opened the door. He barely let you time to recover from the shock of seeing him as he stepped inside and grabbed your cheeks, squishing them. “Where the hell were you?”

You blinked, confused. “What do you mean ‘where was I’?”

Jisung paused and finally noticed all the paint on you, realization dawned on him. “Were you painting the whole night?”

You slapped his hands playfully to free yourself. You closed the door behind you, not needing an audience. “Yes. I couldn’t sleep.”

Jisung nodded. “Then, why weren’t you answering your phone?”

“My phone?” You tried to remember where you had left it. You had no use for it while painting, therefore you didn’t bring it with you.

Jisung groaned in frustration and shook his head at you. “Yes, your phone. You know the thing you use to message or call someone?”

Seeing Jisung so bitchy was not a usual sight, in fact, you could barely remember the last time you saw him in this state. Something bothered him and made him snappy. Slowly you approached him and observed him for a moment, trying to find out what was wrong. “What are you doing here, Ji?”

Jisung averted his eyes from your face and clenched his fists. “I needed a break. Minho is a tyrant.”

Your mouth twitched at his blatant lie. At least there was one thing that didn’t change about him; whenever he lied, he would avoid your eyes because he knew you would see through him. You took one last step towards him, leaving almost no space between your bodies. You left him no choice but be completely aware of your presence, of your body lightly brushing his. You flicked his nose and chuckled. “And the real reason?”

A faint blush spread on his face, but despite his embarrassment, his eyes locked with yours. “Fine. I was dying to see you. I’ve been trying to reach you for a while, but you weren’t answering, so I panicked. I thought maybe-“ He stopped to inhale sharply, “I thought maybe you didn’t want to see me.”

At his confession, butterflies erupted wildly in your stomach. It comforted you to hear just how affected he was with your situation. It warmed your heart to know that he wanted to see you just as badly as you did. You gently cupped his face and couldn’t stop yourself from pecking his lips.

“I couldn’t sleep because I kept thinking about our kiss.” You admitted, confidently. There was no use hiding how you felt anymore. There was no use running away.

Jisung opened his mouth, but no words left it. He tried again and again and still nothing. You tried to muffle your giggles in return but how could you when he looked so adorable? You pecked his lips again and every time he tried to speak you did it again.

“Angel.” Jisung managed with a fond and exasperated sigh.

“Hmm?” You hummed, smiling fondly at him.

“You’re-“ You kissed him again. “Not mak-“ And again. “Bloody hell.” And with this last attempt, Jisung completely snapped. His mouth crashed down on yours, one hand on your hips, he pulled you flush against him. He cupped the back of your neck and deepened the kiss, pouring all his feelings, his need into the kiss and you kissed him back as eagerly, moaning softly into the kiss. The kiss was far from sweet and gentle and you couldn’t care less. You didn’t need nice, not when you were craving him so badly. When you felt like your life depended on him. And his lips.

“Please, tell me I’m not the only one needing it.” Jisung begged, breathless against your lips. “Tell me I’m not the only one who want to try again.” By the sound of his shaky voice, you could tell how desperate Jisung was. He was ready for everything if only it meant you would give him a second chance. A chance to make it right.

“If you want me to get on my knees and beg, I would.” He continued, his eyes filled with so much fire and resolution, you almost melted at the spot.

You kissed him softly. “As much as I like the image of you on your knees, you don’t need to. I want us to try again.”

Jisung exhaled loudly, his heart ready to burst out of his chest. “Thank god.”

[call-memissbrightside]

TW: mentions of mental health issues, ED. Katsuki is an asshole in this.

Katsuki has no sympathy for those struggling with their mental health, you included.

It can be argued that Mr. Hot Head suffers from his own string of mental health issues but he’s too proud, too stubborn to admit it.

Katsuki has always had a god complex, if you’re not 100% at all times then you’re weak.

He won’t understand how you can’t get out of bed and do mundane tasks like shower and feed yourself.

He compares your trauma to his, and Katsuki scoffs at how he’s still fine after being kidnapped and almost dying on a daily basis while you breakdown when the weather gets colder.

“Get the fuck over it, you’re so fucking weak.” The first time he said that to you, your mouth dropped in absolute shock. You should’ve broken up with him right then and there.

Katsuki gets pissed off when you burst into tears because he can’t tell you how many calories are in the meal he made you. He didn’t check, he barely listened to you when you explained how you’re recovering from an ED and need to know those things, something about how it helps you feel in control blah blah blah— he didn’t pay attention.

He’ll say to your face that he thinks it’s gross when you don’t shower or brush your teeth for days, Katsuki doesn’t understand how you don’t just get up and do it.

He’ll leave you in tears and spiraling further down until he just can’t take it anymore. Katsuki loves you and he realized your tantrums are just who you are, so he’ll have to deal with them.

“You fucking smell, get up,” He’ll mumble, grabbing you off the bed. “We’re showering.”

He’s gotten good at taking care of your hair and your skin care routine, doing it all for you with too rough of hands. You flinch with every pass of the hair brush, Katsuki determined to get out every tangle.

“Suck it up, someone has to make sure you don’t look like shit,” he’ll say, making you burst into tears but he’ll just shush you.

It’s a toxic relationship, but what he lacks in sympathy he makes up for in his actions… even if he can’t help but voice his heartbreaking opinions.

[rosakuma]

Predictions on What Might Happen in Drdt ch.3 Part 1

So with the emotional roller coaster of ch.2 finished, I figured it would be nice theorizing what could happen next chapter based off the current information we know and some predictions/theories I’ve either seen around or have. Share any thoughts about the theories/prediction or your own down below the comments or reblogs! This will be multiple parts due to the word limit, so let's get started!

For starters, lets go over who’s currently alive:

Teruko

Charles

Whit

Eden

J

Arturo

Veronika

Hu

Nico

Levi(Possible if Arturo can save his life)

David

Rose

As for gender ratio we have 6 girls, 1 enby, and 5 guys remaining(unless Levi dies, then only 4).

So with that being said, that means most likely to balance out the gender ratio between the guys and girls(excluding Nico our beloved furry enby), we would have to have 2 girls die and 1 guy die. Leaving only 4 girls, 4 guys, and 1 enby left. That is if Drdt follows the three people dying during chapter 3 formula(to which this post will pretend it will).

Now who would our victims and culprit be? We’ll get back to that later. For now lets move onto the current mental states and situations our cast is in and how that will reflect on their development/survival chances?

Teruko: As we seen in the last ep of ch.2, Teruko…..is not doing great. Now Teruko has definitely gotten a lot of great development in the sense of potentially starting to trust others again as we seen in the trial. But there’s also the factor that Teruko is suffering from the deaths of her classmates in secret due to thinking she’s to fault for their deaths because of her luck. Seeing Ace died affected Teruko badly because she was just like him in trying to push others away to be safe and not hurt(Ace being basically a dark reflection of Teruko this chapter). Along with seeing herself no different from him or Arei in being a bad person. This could definitely affect Teruko in her current relationships(Charles, Eden, Rose, Whit, and possibly Levi now), but I still think there’s a spark of hope that Teruko will allow herself to at least work with others or hang out a bit more with people at a distance. I conclude that Teruko Tawaki will start working with others again while suffering from guilt both survivors guilt and guilt of almost having Levi killed because she broke a rule via asking Ace to kill MonoTv.

Charles: Now last we seen of our beloved tsundere chemist was him going back to a state of shock from seeing Levi bloody and barely alive. To which after Charles recovers from it and Levi is taken care of, here’s what I think will happen to him. I believe we’ll see Charles starting to work more with others who are willing now that we see that Charles accepts friendship from others thanks to Whit(and kinda Teruko in ch.1). Along with his friends, he is definitely gonna be so worried and upset at Teruko for almost dying. Yeah she didn't get shot and instead Levi did, but still Charles was concern for her regardless if her luck would prevent her from dying. Another thing I saw brought up from a few posts is Charles starting to become more independent while still dependant on others. What I exactly mean is I think Charles will prevent others like Whit from trying to protect him as he does not want to be pitied and with him being sheltered by his parents, this increases his desire to do and face things on his own. This might cause complications in his friendship with Whit since Whit seems to be really protective of Charles to cover his eyes when death/blood happens or giving him an alibi in the trial. But who knows?(although I can see them targeting Charwhit as they had it good for too long and how every other yaoi/Yuri ship has been doomed). Also we might get more Charles and Elliot lore next chapter, I'm feeling it.

Whit: So Whit……its kinda hard predicting what will happen to Whit exactly since the dude doesn't let the current situation bother him(the secrets being all revealed, Levi almost dying, Ace dying, etc). Only concern he has is with Charles and like I said for Charles, maybe we might have CharWhit drama, its hard telling. But I will say that I believe Whit is probably going become more suspicious since we seen that one sprite in ep16. Like seriously WTF WAS THAT WHIT!? Like no joke if this keeps up, he is definitely the mastermind or at least traitor. I got my eyes on you Whit Young (≖_≖ ) . Oh and I do have a theory of what role Whit can play in ch.3 I’ll go more into another section.

Eden: Oh sweet Eden, you deserve so much 😭 Okay so definitely Eden is going to be in mourning over Arei and I feel like with now both Ace dead and Levi almost dying, she’s probably at her mental limit. Like I don't believe she’ll end up like Teruko in the beginning of ch.2, but I don't think Eden will be able to be the good support system for everyone with what she’s going through rn. Like Teruko and Xander with his family, Eden is going through survivor guilt over Arei, Min, and possibly Ace? We seen how Eden thinks Min’s death is her fault with the baking activity and think its the same with Arei during the trial. Along with Ace, Eden did state that while she doesn't forgive him for killing Arei, she feels bad for him and this happening. Like Eden said, this all could’ve been prevented. Eden probably blames herself in not checking up on Ace, trying to befriend Arei that lead to her trying to protect her, or not being able to help diffuse the fighting at the cafeteria as well since that lead up to David making everyone reveal their secrets to each other. I think it will take some time and emotional support hopefully from Teruko and anyone else kind to support her for Eden to be able to bounce back from this one.

J: Honestly I don't have a lot to say about J rn. Her main concern is on Levi, but if I was going to guess what might happen to her or be explored with her for chapter 3. We’ll probably get more lore on her family and perhaps why J seems more anti-murder than everyone else. Along with this, she’ll probably snap and get Arturo hopefully off her back for good if he still tries to stalk/bother her. Otherwise hopefully she’ll just be vibin.

Arturo: Oh Arturo, you are definitely being set up for some character development. With Arturo’s secret being revealed about his sister, his involvement with Eden and Arei, and along with having Levi’s life in his hands. He is going to be going through the wringer I tell you. To start off, if Levi lives, I think that will be a bit of hope and maybe redemption in himself in Arturo’s eyes as I feel like his dialogue to Ace in ep16 might hint he feels like he can’t save anyone since he couldn't save his sister from dying(via killing herself). If Levi dies, that is going to start a downspiral for him as he is going to believe he failed to save someone again and now has two deaths on his hands. Going into his sister and involvement with Eden, I think this is going to cause some discourse with others. Specifically J and Hu. J because she already thinks low of him because of his treatment towards her and the fact she believes he is actually responsible for Felicity’s death(although you could argue that maybe she just said that because she’s mad at him for causing this murder to happen a little). Hu I think will get on him too for both threatening Eden which lead to Ace being able to frame her and kill Arei and the fact Hu does not take lightly of someone causing a suicide knowing her secret. I think this will be apart of the discourse over the group’s secrets and potential fault in what happened last chapter.

Veronika: Oh girlie you’re the one I’m concern for the most! Okay so Veronika is starting to get more disturbing in the killing game with how she’s reacting to both Ace’s death and Levi getting injured. And with both her secret revealed and how the group is going right now, I don't think it will be good for her. We know how that Veronika uses her talent and to extent, the killing game to entertain herself enough to prevent her from self harming herself. With how I think the group will have conflict with each other, I think she’ll be fine at first since drama will be interesting to her. Even if she gets involve as I could see someone blame her for what happened last chapter since she failed to stop Nico and Ace’s fight along with encouraging Ace’s paranoia about dying. I don't think she’ll feel bad since there was other factors + she finds it more interesting how events happen. All of this will possibly come crashing down for her as if everyone starts distancing themselves from others, then how will Veronika be able to keep herself entertained? She won’t have any drama or anyone to watch horror movies with her. This could lead to her going to a dark space in possibly causing something to entertain her or be possibly manipulated.

Since part 1 is getting to close to the word limit, I’ll end this here and continue off onto the next part(will link post after I post this and finish the other): https://www.tumblr.com/rosakuma/763649926247940097/arturo-oh-arturo-you-are-definitely-being-set-up?source=share

[serpenndragon]

Some Eggpire stuff, tw for body horror

sooo I wanted to dive into Skeppy and his recovery after dying in the lava I am soooo so normal about the eggpire arc and wrote a bit about it here:

When bad pushed him you could see the instant realization of pure unfiltered horror grace his features followed by him reaching out and almost grabbing Skeppy in time but just barely missing by an inch In shock he hesitated for a split second before lunging to scrabble through the lava pool for the peices (yes peices) of Skeppy, gaining the burn scars on his own arms (demons are resistant but not immune to lava damage) to eventually pull him out in a horrifying disfigured clump The first thing that caught his eye were the shimmer of Skeppy's diamonds spread over most of his (remeaining) skin as a defense attempt from his own body, and next, how Skeppy was staring at him with his eye while the spak in it started to die out The worst part was seeing how the vines on skeppy's skin started to creep and try to incase and consume him in his dying state Bad was able to apply a totem just before Skeppy's last bits of life ran out and carried his living but disfigured body from the egglair I can imagine how broken Bad would be like utterly speechless and horrified as he carried him and dont get me started on the other's reactions upon seeing them Bad sat by his bedside for months without eating but eventually left on his boat to look for any kind of reconstruction magic he could use to help Skeppy You see where I'm going with how indescribably traumatic this was for both of them and it never went away Bad still sees that face in his nightmares and Skeppy was left with the memory of quite literally dying and being bedridden disfigured and suffering for months After the whole mess of Bad killing several people they pretend like everything is all fine and dandy Bad is the last one with the egg's influence and Skeppy stabs and kills him with a sword & uses a totem to get rid of the last of it After both are physically healed and several months after the dsmp fell apart and the egg was gone, they decided to make the best of what happened to them both and it made their bond stronger than ever They are still not even close to recovering mentally and may never be Annnnd the cherry on top is them getting seperated bc of the qsmp.. like fucking imagine I need them together again rn I'm not even silly hahah goofy anymore I will die if they dont

Anywayyys yeah I love c!skephalo with all of my being and will continue to scream their story from the rooftops even if nobody gives a fuck anymore

[simplifiedemotions]

Dreams

His love for her was a sharp-edged knife he had to learn to breathe around.

**

First, a seven-year war. A turncoat after his parents were killed. Little reason to live but too much of a coward to die. 

Draco joined the Order. He’d traded in finely-barbed insults for a med kit because they had seemed to know that his greatest torture apart from dying was having to endure the presence of Hermione Granger.

Their great bloody healer with her manic schedules and biting instructions. She’d made it clear she hated him when he showed up to the dingy room she used for potion brewing.

It came as no surprise that he’d fallen in love with her.

It came as no surprise that she’d broken his heart.

**

They had no choice but to keep him on as healer after the war. His skills made him indispensable. Even if they hated him, they needed him.

He looked down at his clipboard, shock stuttering his heart to a stop before it started pounding against his chest.

Patient: Hermione Granger. His eyes skimmed past information he already knew, before they landed on the reason she was there.

It had happened a year before the war ended.

**

She was a Healer and Curse-Breaker. She was never meant to be caught in a skirmish, but she was foolishly soft-hearted and had responded to an urgent call for backup.

He had been in another safe house treating injured Order members when she’d gone.

He returned to see her convulsing on the ground, her throat torn from a precise-impact bombarda.

His hands shook as he healed her ravaged throat, as he directed his wand over sinew and bone, over ruptured veins.

He was the one who took care of her, who took on her workload whilst she recovered. Who shoved potions down her throat when the pain overroad her coherency. 

It wasn’t the first time they’d known intimacy through hurt.

**  

It hurt to look at her now. Sitting primly on the hospital bed, she met his gaze with a shrewd assessment. 

She opened her mouth as if to speak, and he hoped against hope that sound would come out; that she’d somehow reveal to him that her brilliant brain had found a way to heal her ravaged throat. 

Nothing. He watched her take in a heavy breath before exhaling in frustration. 

“If this is some joke, Granger, I’ve not the time nor the energy for you.” He knew he sounded cold. He told himself he didn’t care, even as her face fell, her large brown eyes a spark of hurt.

She rose, untucking her wand from her sleeve and turned her back to him, and he watched the shift of her shoulders as she straightened her spine and raised her wand. He knew what the spell was almost immediately. The flagrante curse, used to make objects searing at first touch. It could also be used to write out words, which she was currently doing.

She’d learned to do a charm known for draining magical energy at an incredible speed—and she’d done it without incanting it.

Anger moved through him suddenly and sharply. He moved quick as a flash, taking Granger by the shoulders and pivoting her towards him before taking both her hands in his, her wand clattering to the ground but he barely noticed because—his eyes widened in horror—there were scorch marks patterning most of her hands.

“You idiot!” he snarled at her. He felt cold with rage. “Have you been using this as your method of communication this entire time? Do I really need to remind the Muggle-born that paper would suffice?”

Hermione shook one of her hands out of his and pointed up and to her side. Realising that he didn’t read what she’d said earlier, he turned his head to see the words outlined in a red-gold hue.

I tried to fix my voice for five years on my own. I’m sorry I hadn’t contacted you. I—

But it ended off there from when he’d grabbed her.

What was the rest of her sentence going to be?

His heart wrenched inside his chest. He turned back and demanded, “why?”

She picked up her wand from the ground, drew out new words. There was something sad and resigned to her face as she turned back to him.

I’ll explain.

**

Granger explained all her attempts at getting her voice back. Potions, spells, even—horrifically—performing surgery on herself.

Draco stood, horrified at what she was telling him, staring at the raised scars on her throat as she took off the scarf she was wearing.

More words, more explanations on procedures they could do if Draco was willing to help her, inspiring in him a maelstrom of emotions: rage, fierce protection. But it was mostly unbearable longing that he felt as he looked at her, remembering the soft moments they’d had, the sound of her voice in his ear as they made love, at the bite in her arguments whenever they would fight, at how she looked softer in sleep, made better by the way she would cling to him, as if he were her only anchor in a desolate sea.

“Why didn’t you ask me, Granger?” He could hear raw pain in his voice, and she seemed to notice because she gave him a wan smile and shook her head.

She didn’t think she needed to consider Draco in her after. He felt as if she’d punched him in the stomach. 

She was softer without the war. It hurt him that he couldn’t have experienced it with her.

He straightened his shoulders. “If you think there is something I can do to help you, Herm-Granger, I will.” 

He gave her a bitter smile. Best not get too vulnerable.

He looked away when she smiled at him again.

**

Bloody weeks spent on every single thing Draco could think of. Potions. Modified spells. He was sure he’d burned through the manor library on every single Charms book just to find a working revitalisation spell.

Tests, speech therapy. He’d even in a fit of mania researched if he could somehow purchase a new voice box for her. It wasn’t an option, but he also realised how much he didn’t want to hear any voice but hers.

There was absolutely nothing he could do. Still, he wouldn’t give up.

I have something to tell you.

Draco looked at her from his crouched position on the small table he’d transfigured for himself to write on. He raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

Granger fidgeted with her wand. She raised it again to write.

I don’t want you to be angry with me.

Still, that didn’t stop her from giving him the truth.

**

Draco stood for long minutes, just staring at her. He didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to parse out her words into something that made sense.

His throat was dry as he finally said, “If you knew all this time that you couldn’t fix your voice, why did you come to me?”

She drew her wand up, writing, I didn’t know if you’d forgive me. 

Something burned behind his eyelids. He was losing his control. He had to leave before she decided to rip his heart into further shreds. The knife slid deeper. “Forgive you for what, Hermione?” he said, voice cracking on her name.

Tears welled in her eyes. She made slashing movements with her wand, her normally clean letters changed by her emotions as she wrote out another sentence.

I loved you—still love you, but I didn’t want you to be stuck to this broken version of me. I didn’t think you could love me unless I was whole—so I left.

Draco crossed the room in three long strides and crushed her in his trembling arms, ignoring the spark of pain that hit him as he crossed right through her searing words.

Words do hurt, he thought ruefully as he breathed hard against her hair, taking in her flowery scent, feeling at home in the circle of her arms as she pressed herself against him and drew her hands up his shoulders to clutch at his robes.

“You could have told me. I would never have stayed angry with you.”

He just wanted her to stay. Even if it was only as friends. Even if the knife tore at him each time she smiled.

He let her go long enough to meet her unamused expression.

“You can’t love me, though. I know you don’t.” He didn’t know if it was anger, or a bone-deep sadness, that prevailed against his calmer emotions. He’d gotten so good at hiding it all, until the storm of her stepped back into his life. “I know what we had—it was a distraction. You wouldn’t have chosen me in other circumstances.”

He knew he sounded self-loathing. Couldn’t help it. There was a quake of emotion rising in his chest, bypassing all reason and logic.

A raised brow, Granger stepped out of his arms and lifted her wand again.

His eyes widened when he saw the word legilimency in red.

“You can’t be serious.”

She only gave him a nod. He imagined she'd say something like of course, you idiot, if she could speak.

“Hermione, I’m not—” he was interrupted by her stepping right up to him, taking him by the collar and pulling him down to her level. Her eyes were fierce, and in them he saw her demand—and her permission.

She wanted to show him something that he wouldn’t believe with words.

He looked up, meeting her steady gaze, pressing forward as his wand met her temple and uttering the spell, spilling himself inside her head.

What he saw—oh what he saw. He almost called her cruel for the images she gave him, before realising the truth of them.

Him, through her eyes, seven years ago. 

He felt the way she peeled him apart in her mind, that day that was defined by several dust motes in the rickety library where she sat to watch his interview with Harry and Lupin. He expected the riling energy of looking at your enemy, but there was also inquisitiveness there. A curiosity.

Flash forward, one month later and they were screaming at each other. Draco accidentally knocked into her, sending a new batch of healing potions crashing to the floor. Her screams of accusation turned to waves of anger turned to pointing fingers and cruel words.

The next day, he’d brought her a new batch. Ignored her indignation that he’d stolen into her potions stores and demanded he come back as he walked out the door. He watched her as she stared at his younger self’s back, surprised to see her frowning. Still, that feeling of curiosity that went over all other things. 

A rare empty night at the main safe house. They were the only occupants in an otherwise quiet house. A surprise shared drink, but even more was the surprisingly pleasant conversations. He felt the pleasantness between them; he remembered how tense he felt because he was so sure they were about to fight again. But it was only a tentative conversation that was their third guest of the evening.

He still remembered the small smile she’d given him, at how it prompted something in his heart to go wild. Now, he was hit with the force of her emotions, too: a pounding heart, a nervousness she was confused by and didn’t know how to name, a lingering feeling of heightened emotion. 

Was it his or hers?

Later, their first kiss. The boy who had made all the wrong choices never felt more right than in the moment he had grabbed Hermione’s face, stalling her argument about a jealousy she’d insisted she didn’t feel over Susan Bones touching his arm in a flirtatious way.

What she felt for him was nothing soothing. Pure horniness. He’d felt the same.

More scenes flashed. Their first time together, which Granger of the present nudged him to move on from. He could feel her embarrassment through their connection and couldn’t help his grin. 

He loved that night. Loved how she responded to him. Loved how much she could say with her body. He kept moving on, finding more like them. They spoke so often through sex at first. Anger, curiosity, resentment, all wound up as tightly as her legs around his waist.

He didn’t understand what she was showing him.

The scenes slowed down. It was the fifth year of war. She had still looked at him a lot. He’d never realised how much. 

Year six: a sick yearning he would call his own if he wasn’t so aware he was seeing all this through her mind—her heart.

Year seven, near the end: she, watching him as he slept beside her. She’d already lost her voice. It was only days from now that the war would end, and she would disappear from his life for five years. 

He normally slept fitfully. They all did. So he was surprised to see he didn’t wake as Granger tenderly traced his face. As she swept gentle thumbs across his cheekbones and over his closed eyelids, as she used her hand to cup his face and kiss him sweetly, so so sweetly, on his forehead.

She was looking at him—she was feeling something he could never fully put into words. The same as he felt—the same.

it was—

He realised why he couldn’t name the difference. He was looking for something to discern her feelings from his, only to realise they were one and the same.

He pulled out of her mind, wanting—needing to see her face. He knew with certainty her first words to him in the hospital—the words he’d interrupted before she could finish them.

I tried to fix my voice for five years. I’m sorry I hadn’t contacted you. I—

I love you.

He pushed her hair out of her face.

He knew her heart. Her dreams. He knew her.  

They kissed for a long time under the bright hospital lights. Tears stained their cheeks and their teeth clacked as they kissed clumsily, as they slid onto the floor and made a mess of the neat tiles.

There was nothing clean about their coming together. There were no words to carry out the breadth of feeling that passed between them.

Maybe that was the whole point all along.

[prettysweetprettysweet]

I really, honestly thought I wouldn't be upset when my stepdad dies and I'm kind of bowled over by my feelings right now. I don't know how but apparently I can hate someone while also being deeply sad at the concept of their imminent death. I'm shocked that my instinct is to have sympathy for him and how so much of his life was difficult or unrealized, how he suffered as a child and never had the love or support he needed to battle all the things that turned him into such a horrible and abusive person as an adult, never introduced to the concept of self-improvement, didn't have any tools to begin with to better himself.

the abuse throughout my life and his inaction as an adult to make any effort to be a better person was entirely his fault but his default state of emotional and mental disarray was largely the fault of caregivers who didn't actually care about him and his health, or even really conceive of him as a person with his own inner life, thoughts, and workings. he clearly has always had some sort of emotional disorder and severe depression, but no one cared enough to address it even though his quality of life was abysmal. he was neglected, and wasted so much of his life in a state of violent anger.

there were rare instances where a situation and his behavior was so horrid that I would lose my instinct for self-preservation and fight back with a frightening intensity despite the consequences, and sometimes it caused him to become overwhelmed and start crying. my rage and indignation would disappear because all of a sudden id feel like I was looking at a toddler who didn't have any framework for regulating their emotions, only just barely beginning to learn how to think, feel, or act like a human. all I could feel was pity for him. as I got older one of my coping mechanisms was to regard him and his daily rages like a toddler with their first toothache having a tantrum because they can't conceive of why where and how they're hurting.

I'm both deeply sorry for the many, many ways the world failed him when it mattered most (especially because I too am cursed with genetically inherited mental illnesses, but I was able to get treatment for them), and deeply hateful of him - the person he was who made the childhood of my brother and I such a terror and caused us to be permanently separated from each other (to such an extent that my brother and i have only just started recovering our relationship, 20 years later), and the person he is now who has never done a single thing in the interest of helping us heal or contend with our trauma, almost as if none of it ever happened.

It's so fucking crazy. I don't want anything to do with him or this process of dying and being put to rest, but at the same time I'm scared that those who are dealing with this won't show him the sympathy needed to make his passing easy. we never had anything even close to a sentimental attachment throughout my life, and for the most part I spent my youth trying to avoid being in the same space as him. after everything, why do I want him to die easily?

[serickswrites]

Make Me Your Villain XII

Master list here (complete with chapter links, summaries, and character bios)

Warnings: referenced heart break, referenced near death experience, pain

In the weeks since Liam had broken up with her, Nova had barely seen Liam. The first week, Henry assured Nova that Liam was mostly sleeping in his room, no doubt still recovering from almost dying even though Nova had healed him. But by the middle of the second week, Nova began to suspect that Liam was avoiding her. Maybe he needed time to adjust to only being friends again. She knew she did. Nova threw herself into the research. They still needed to find a way to stop Jude since going to head to head didn’t always work out successfully. She hadn’t spent much time in the library solo and so being there day in and day out by herself was kind of nice. She had time to think. And time to learn.

The first thing Nova did when she sat down to research was learn about herself. She wasn’t so certain that Liam was right when he said she could be immortal. Nova was shocked to learn that healing powers, though rare, weren’t unheard of. That there were very likely several thousand people worldwide living with the same power she had.

Liam was right. With enough training and increase in stamina, there wasn’t anything her cells couldn’t heal. They were always in a state of repair and regrowth. “Jude can’t kill me, you idiot,” she said as she poured herself another cup of coffee. Liam had dumped her for nothing.

“You need more training to get there,” Henry said as he sat down across from her. “You’ll get there. And then maybe Liam will get his head out of his ass. But until then, Nova, you have to keep working on yourself.” Henry winced as he leaned back in the chair.

“Back giving you issues, old man?” Nova said as she watched Henry struggle to get comfortable in his seat.

“I am not that old. And no, it’s not my back it’s—“ “Sciatica. I can fix that.” Nova said with a smile.

“Well go on then. Since you’re getting better at sensing what’s wrong, what else needs healing in me?” Henry smirked.

Nova stared at him. Really stared at him. She felt the ghost of a headache behind her eyes. Some stiffness in her hips. And a twinge in her sciatic nerve. She had been delighted to learn that she could sense the pain and ills in others and that it would make her a more effective healer. She wouldn’t have to rely on civilians or Liam telling her where the pain was. She could just feel it.

She began to glow, enveloping Henry in a glowing light. “It’ll be all better in just a moment, Henry. You’ll feel shiny, fresh, and new.”

Henry gave a sigh of relief. “Oh that is the good stuff. Thanks.” He stood up.

“Did you come in here just so I would heal you?” Nova looked up at him with an arched brow.

“Oh absolutely. I live with a healer. No more need to beg Liam to teleport me to the urgent care. Or drive an hour to Oxwell. Not when I have a resident healer!” Henry gave a big grin.

“You could have just asked! I would have healed you! HEY!” Nova called after Henry’s rapidly retreating back. “Asshole,” she muttered as she pulled the next book towards her.

The book was a handwritten journal from Liam’s dad. She wasn’t sure she should be reading it, but it was a research journal, and it was in the library. Maybe it would have the information she needed to look in the other piles of book to find what they needed to know about Jude.

She was wrong.

The journal, as it turns out, was a combination of research and personal writings. And it was all about Liam and shadow wielding. Nova put the book down. “I shouldn’t be reading this. I should definitely put this away and go outside. Go anywhere,” she said out loud to herself, as though hearing the words would help her convince her conscience to do the right thing.

But Nova didn’t leave. She picked up the book again and read. Maybe it would help her be a better partner in the field to Liam if she understood the mechanism of his powers.

He has my eyes, Liam’s father’s bold handwriting said, but he’s got his mother’s hair. He’s absolutely perfect. Never in my life did I think it was possible to love something more than the love of my life, but the moment the doctor put Liam in my arms, I knew I was wrong. I would do anything, absolutely anything, for this perfect baby.

Nova couldn’t help but smile as she read about Liam. About his father’s absolute adoration of Liam and Liam’s mother.

I should have realized he was different early on. I should have noticed the signs. Not that it would have changed anything. But I would have been more prepared. The house seemed darker when his mother was pregnant. I thought it was just the time of year, just my age and my eye sight getting worse. The moment he entered the world, the shadows took shape more than they ever had before. It was almost as though they were living, breathing beings that followed him everywhere.

I had never heard of shadow wielding. Never knew it was possible. Which is funny coming from a lightning wielder. But his mother is a normal. How was I to know that our son would have powers that I never even dreamed about before? I must seek the literature on this. Surely someone has seen this before.

Nova was surprised. Even Liam’s dad, the person with this extensive library on powered individuals, hadn’t heard of shadow wielding. How did Liam have the power? Where did it come from? And what was the extent?

Liam can use his shadows to pull himself between this plane and the next and back again. Nova read in the journal a few days later. Liam was two. There wasn’t much progress in Liam’s dad’s search for the history of shadow wielding, but Liam’s powers were growing at a rapid rate. I lost him for three hours yesterday. Fortunately his mother wasn’t home or who knows how she would have reacted. He was there with me in the garden one minute and I turned my back to grab the ball he had thrown and then he wasn’t.

I looked everywhere. Absolutely everywhere outside. But he was nowhere. I was ready to go inside and call for the police when I heard him laughing in the conservatory. How had he gotten there?

He teleported again when we were putting him to bed. This time I wasn’t alone. But I was able to calm his mother quickly. He hadn’t gone far—just back to the conservatory. He loves music so much, no doubt from the hours of listening to his mother play. Maybe he will be a musician like her one day.

Teleporting was an extension of his shadow wielding. Nova would have never made that connection. But reading it, it made sense. The in between was dark, made up of shadow and air, nothing solid.

“You never told me that teleporting was an extension of shadow wielding,” Nova said as she sat across from Liam at the breakfast table the next morning.

It was the first meal they had shared since he had broken up with her. Nova came into the kitchen that morning, fully expecting him to teleport away when she walked in, but he hadn’t. He merely set a full mug of coffee already made the way she liked it and said, “Good morning.”

“You never asked,” he replied as he sipped his tea. “I take it you found my father’s journal. Well, the early one,” he said cringing. “So embarrassing.”

“But it’s cool to read. Your dad hadn’t even heard of the ability. I wonder how that works,” she mused as she pulled the box of cereal towards her.

“I don’t know. I…I don’t know how far he got in his research.”

“But you have read most of those books.”

“I’ve read his research on healing and on soul-suckers. Not shadow wielding. I don’t need to read about that, it isn’t relevant.” He took another long sip from his mug.

“But what if he found something your powers could grow into that we could use as a weapon against Jude? We would never know since you didn’t bother to read! Come on, Liam, don’t you want to know about yourself?”

Liam shook his head. “I’ll read his research on shadow wielding once Jude’s been stopped. Besides,” he put his mug down, “I have a pretty good handle on my powers as it is.”

Nova opened her mouth to reply, but she was alone in the kitchen again. “Then it’s a good thing I don’t have my head up my ass and don’t mind doing the research for you!” She called knowing that somehow he would still hear her. He always did.

Tags: @dutifullykrispyland@jesssmolfur@parad0xical2@st0rmm@keeper-of-all-the-random-things@pigeonwhumps@gala1981@allylovessweets @whumpitywhumpwhump @

[woodblxssomcrowned]

22. for sex after a near death experience 

nsfw prompts

She had been frustrated.

Angry even. To such a degree she had considered seeking out Takuma for the first time since…since returning home after the Inuzuka ordeal. He rarely turned her down and knew how to satisfy her. But the idea appalled her the moment it had appeared. No. She wanted him. She wanted that damn Uchiha who had weaseled his way into her life with his large eyes, hands that had been gentle when he’d helped her tend to her wounds, and dreams that made her hopeful.

It was almost with bereavement that she came to the realization that wanted Kagami, or nobody. Kaname hadn't even fully recovered from the wound that pierced through her sternum when the time they would usually meet came around, but she went to their meeting place regardless. On the surface the wound was healed into a scar, but she felt it still inside her. 

When she saw him, she was in pain.  But she had never smiled more. 

It had been him she'd thought of through the static of her shock, as she was bleeding out and her heart fighting for its life. He had not been the Uchiha who had been so close to taking her out…but as she stared up at him as he withdrew the sword from her chest that had pieced through a gap in her cuirass, gasping and choking on the taste of her own blood, she still thought she heard his voice.

And he had been her first clear thought as she regained consciousness, back home, safe. 

After that, her thoughts about him had become increasingly intimate, and wanton, in nature.  A fever of fear and longing accompanied her as she recovered. The new and startling fear of dying before seeing him one more time. And the longing to be as close to him as anyone possibly could be.

She damn near rushes the Uchiha, but instead of stopping, her hands grab the dark fabric of his coat, and she kisses him. From there, things had spiraled.

Kaname was in pain, but her soft moan was of genuine excitement. The sensations made her lightheaded, but she wanted nothing less than this. 

Knee between her thighs, her pelvis pressing against his when he tugs her closer still. She can barely expand her chest in a full breath from how tightly they hold onto each other, both swaying dangerously where they stood. When the young Uchiha tips his head back, tearing away from her lips to breathe, she just brings her attention to his jaw, one hand tugging the high collar down to expose his neck.  

After a heartbeat however, Kaname pulls back somewhat, flushed. “I'm sorry.” She exhales shakily over his chin, her sensibilities suddenly catching up to her. “If…if you want to I’ll stop.” 

Her mouth is dry and her body hot. The wound in her chest aches. And for some reason, she feels the burn of tears gathering at the seam of her closed eyes. “I n---” I need you. I need you to hold me. I need you to silence this incessant longing. Please.

Just once.

 “I…I want you…but if you tell me no then I’ll stop.”

[nicolettesdreamworld]

Guilty as sin - Chapter 18

The night air was heavy with tension as Nicolette and Elena walked out of the hospital, relief flooding them now that Alaric was stable and recovering. The weight of the evening was starting to lift—until a sudden blur of movement broke through the silence.

In a heartbeat, Rebekah was there, her hand tight around Elena’s throat, slamming her against the car with ruthless force. Elena’s gasp for air echoed in the stillness, and Nicolette froze, shock momentarily paralyzing her. But the hesitation lasted only a second. Instinct kicked in, and with a surge of strength, Nicolette grabbed Rebekah by her throat, ripping her away from Elena and slamming her against the car.

"Don’t," Nicolette warned, her voice low but sharp as a blade.

Rebekah’s lips curled into a smirk, her eyes gleaming with that cruel humor she so often wore like armor. "And here I thought we were starting to become friends," she taunted, unfazed by the chokehold Nicolette had on her.

Just as Nicolette opened her mouth to respond, a force hit her from the side, sending her stumbling backward. When she looked up, it was Elijah standing between them, his expression stern, his presence commanding as always.

"Leave," Elijah’s voice was cold, a sharp contrast to his usual calm demeanor. The authority in his tone left no room for argument.

Rebekah’s eyes darted between them, fury flickering beneath her cool exterior. "You’re all pathetic," she spat, her words dripping with disgust as she glared at Elijah before turning her seething gaze on Nicolette. Rebekah's hatred simmered, especially now that Nicolette had dared to intervene.

"She didn’t know, Rebekah," Elena’s voice was strained, still recovering from the assault. She was referring to the fact that Nicolette had been kept in the dark about the Originals’ twisted family drama and Mikael’s return to town.

Rebekah’s eyes flickered back to Nicolette, the weight of betrayal clear on her face before she finally vanished into the night without another word.

Nicolette exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, the adrenaline still pumping through her veins. Her eyes found Elijah’s, irritation simmering beneath her composed exterior. "A heads up about the family reunion would’ve been nice, Elijah," she snapped, her voice laced with frustration.

Elijah gave her a measured look, his face softening into a faint smile, as though the chaos of the evening was just another inconvenient blip in the saga of his family’s dysfunction. "Well, I believe the three of us have a little catching up to do," he said smoothly, though his gaze lingered on her wrist.

Nicolette followed his gaze to the diamond bracelet still clasped around her wrist—the one Klaus had given her on her birthday, after he saved her from Tyler’s bite. It glittered in the dim streetlight, an unspoken symbol of the twisted connections she shared with the Mikaelson family. Elijah’s eyes, now unreadable, flicked back to hers.

As Nicolette settled into the passenger seat, she broke the silence with a dry, weary tone. "We could go back to my place, considering my only roommate is lying in a hospital bed after almost dying tonight." She buckled her seatbelt, glancing at Elena, who was still rattled but trying her best to keep it together. Elena simply nodded, sliding into the driver’s seat without a word. From the backseat, Elijah silently followed, his movements as calm and deliberate as ever.

The car hummed along the dark roads, an almost suffocating silence filling the space. Elena’s hands tightened around the steering wheel as she focused on the road ahead, still processing the attack, while Nicolette stared out of the window, her mind spinning from the evening’s events. The tension was thick, but it wasn’t just from the chaos of the night. It was something more—something unspoken.

Elijah, sitting in the backseat, barely moved. His gaze was fixed on Nicolette, but there was something strange in the way he watched her—something deeper, more unreadable. His eyes, usually composed, now seemed to carry an intensity that made her skin prickle. He wasn’t looking at her like she was another player in their tangled web of plans. It felt personal, like he was searching for something, maybe even questioning it.

Nicolette could feel his stare, and though she didn’t turn to meet his eyes, the weight of it pressed against her. There had always been this quiet understanding between them, an unspoken trust built over time. But tonight, things felt different—charged, uneasy.

As the streetlights passed over the car, flickering light and shadow over their faces, Nicolette found herself lost in thought. The diamond bracelet still clung to her wrist, a haunting reminder of Klaus’s presence in her life. Everything was spiraling—Klaus, Rebekah, the Originals’ twisted family dynamic… and yet, here she was, with Elijah sitting quietly behind her, like a ghost looming over the night's events.

What exactly was going through his mind? Why did he look at her like that?

The silence was deafening, but none of them seemed willing to break it. Words felt pointless. They were all bound to this chaos, tied together in ways that none of them could escape.

As the car pulled into Nicolette's driveway, the heavy silence seemed to dissolve into the crisp night air. Elena parked, and the three of them got out without a word. The tension from earlier clung to their movements, but there was a sense of relief, too—like they had escaped something dangerous, at least for now.

Inside, Elena and Elijah settled onto the couch, still quiet, both lost in their own thoughts. Nicolette moved to the bar, her movements deliberate as she grabbed a bottle of bourbon and three glasses. She poured the usual amount into two glasses and then paused before pouring half the amount into the third. She walked over to Elena, handing her the smaller glass.

"You're a minor, and it's time someone started seeing you that way," Nicolette said with a small smirk, though her tone carried a warmth beneath the teasing.

Elena raised a brow, looking at the glass. "Yet you still poured me one."

"You're still my friend," Nicolette replied, handing Elijah his full glass before taking hers. She sat down across from them, her body still tense but her expression softening. "Plus, it’s been a rough day."

Elena chuckled softly, though the laughter didn’t quite reach her eyes. She took a sip, leaning back into the couch. "Yeah, that’s an understatement."

Elijah, silent as ever, took a slow sip of his drink, watching them both with that same intense, unreadable look. His presence was calm, but the weight of the night’s events still hung in the air. Even in this small moment of reprieve, Nicolette could feel the undercurrents of something much larger at play.

Nicolette took a deep breath, letting the warmth of the bourbon settle in her chest. She glanced at Elijah, who was still watching her in that peculiar way, and for the first time in what felt like hours, she allowed herself to relax—just a little.

"So," she began, swirling the bourbon in her glass, "what now?"

Sure, here's a revised version of your paragraph:

"Now is probably as good a time as any to fill you in on everything that happened after you left," Elijah began, and Nicolette nodded. "Damon's plan worked," he continued, but Nicolette quickly interrupted him.

"Damon didn’t exactly share his plan with me," she said, her tone edged with frustration. "All I knew was that he thought my presence might somehow keep Klaus from tearing them all apart."

Elijah paused, his brow furrowing slightly at Nicolette’s words. He hadn’t realized she had been left in the dark about Damon’s full plan. "I see," he said softly, his voice calm but carrying a hint of regret. He leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. "I apologize for the oversight. Damon can be... impulsive."

Nicolette gave a short, humorless laugh. "Impulsive doesn’t begin to cover it. He had me thinking I was there to play some sort of angelic peacekeeper while being completely in the dark."

Elijah sighed, understanding her frustration. "Damon’s plan was risky, but it worked—at least in part. He intended to use your presence as a distraction for Klaus, yes. He believed Klaus might hesitate, might reconsider his actions if you were there. He wasn’t wrong in that regard."

Nicolette’s expression was skeptical. "Klaus didn’t look too hesitant when he was draining that poor girl dry."

Elijah’s jaw tightened ever so slightly, his face momentarily unreadable. "Klaus... is a complicated man. Your presence did affect him, though perhaps not in the way Damon anticipated. Klaus rarely hesitates, but with you, there was a flicker of restraint. It’s why we’re even able to have this conversation now."

Nicolette looked away, frustration evident in the set of her jaw. "So I was bait."

"Not bait," Elijah said firmly, his voice low but intense. "A calming influence. A reminder of humanity. Believe it or not, Nicolette, you have a way of reaching people, even those who are... far beyond saving."

She frowned, her eyes narrowing as she took a sip of her drink. "I’m not sure I buy that."

Elijah smiled softly, a rare, almost wistful look crossing his face. "You should. It’s a rare gift. You’ve always had it."

"So, what happened after I left?" Nicolette asked, steering the conversation away from the uneasy tension. "What was Damon’s big plan?"

Elijah took a measured sip of his drink before answering. "To undagger all of my siblings."

"That explains Rebekah," Elena interjected, and Elijah nodded in agreement.

"We were preparing to deal with Klaus," Elijah continued, "but then your so-called 'secret weapon' showed up."

Nicolette froze, her mind flashing back to the last time they had a so-called secret weapon—it was Mikael. "Who?" she asked, her voice quieter now.

"Our mother," Elijah said calmly. "She was the one locked in that coffin."

Nicolette’s eyes widened in shock, and Elena gasped. "As in, the original witch?" Elena asked.

Elijah nodded.

Nicolette, still stunned, asked, "No offense, but how is she alive? Klaus killed her."

"None taken," Elijah responded with a soft smile. "A witch preserved her body."

Nicolette absentmindedly ran her finger over the diamond bracelet on her wrist, trying to process it all. "So… Klaus is dead then?" she asked cautiously, her gaze now locked with Elijah's.

Elijah noticed her subtle gesture. "No," he said, his voice steady. "She forgave him. Our mother said she wants peace, for the entire family—including Niklaus."

"And you believe her?" Nicolette asked, her voice tinged with skepticism.

Elijah chuckled softly, a hint of irony in his eyes. "Trust is a delicate thing. Especially in the Mikaelson household. Whether or not she is honest remains to be seen."

He took another sip of his drink, then added, "But if there’s one thing I’ve learned about my family, it's that nothing is ever as simple as it seems."

Nicolette sighed, not entirely comforted by his words, but understanding all too well the layers of manipulation that surrounded the Mikaelsons. "So, what now?" she asked quietly, unsure of what their next move should be.

"Now, we wait," Elijah said, his voice calm but filled with the weight of uncertainty.

Nicolette nodded slowly, her eyes drifting to the window. Waiting was never easy, especially not when it involved the Originals. The tension in the room seemed to thicken as the reality of the situation settled over them. Waiting for Esther’s next move felt like waiting for a storm to break.

Elena shifted uncomfortably, swirling the bourbon in her glass. "And what if your mother isn’t as forgiving as she claims?"

Elijah gave her a thoughtful look. "Then we face whatever comes. Together." His gaze flickered to Nicolette, lingering for a moment longer. "But let’s hope it doesn’t come to that."

"The coffin was the only thing stopping Klaus from ripping Stefan and Damon to shreds. What now?" Elena asked, her voice edged with worry. "Surely you don't believe Nicolette has enough influence over him to actually stop him, do you?"

Elijah raised an eyebrow, glancing briefly at Nicolette. "Klaus is unpredictable, yes, but he is not without reason. His attachment to certain individuals runs deep, though he may never admit it. Nicolette… she's a wild card in all of this." He paused, considering his next words. "Her influence may not stop him entirely, but it may be enough to temper his wrath—for now."

Nicolette shifted uncomfortably under the weight of their gazes. "Let's not overestimate whatever 'influence' I have. Klaus listens to no one but himself."

Elijah pondered for a moment, knowing Nicolette had a point. "You're not wrong," he admitted thoughtfully, his gaze lingering on her. "Klaus operates on his own twisted sense of loyalty and self-preservation."

Nicolette sighed, her fingers absently tracing the diamond bracelet on her wrist. "Klaus may have protected me from Mikael, but the next time he saved my life was only because he was the one who made Tyler bite me in the first place."

Elijah's expression softened, though his eyes darkened with understanding. "Niklaus’ mercy always comes with strings attached," he said quietly. "But that doesn’t mean it’s not real in its own way."

"It just means it's dangerous," Nicolette muttered, her tone tinged with both bitterness and resignation.

"Everyone seems to think Klaus will do as I say, but experience has proven otherwise," Nicolette said, her frustration evident. She shook her head, her fingers still running over the diamond bracelet. "There’s no real relationship between me and Klaus. I don’t magically make him good just because I’m around. He isn’t attached to me."

Elijah listened intently, his expression serious. "You're right; Klaus doesn’t change easily. But sometimes, the people we least expect can influence us in ways we don’t recognize at first."

Nicolette scoffed softly. "Maybe. But I refuse to be anyone’s last hope or their excuse for bad behavior."

Elijah regarded her thoughtfully. "You have more power than you realize, Nicolette. Just by being yourself."

"I need you to promise me that you'll protect those close to me," Nicolette said, her voice steady but urgent as she looked into Elijah's eyes. "Even if you’re right about me having some sort of influence over Klaus, he’s still unstable and unpredictable. He could snap at any moment and kill all of us, me included."

Elijah's gaze softened, and he nodded solemnly. "I promise, Nicolette. I will do everything in my power to keep you and your loved ones safe. You’re not alone in this."

Nicolette exhaled slowly, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders, even if just a little. "Thank you. It’s just… I can’t bear the thought of anyone getting hurt."

"You’re stronger than you know," Elijah reassured her. "And together, we’ll find a way through this."

Elijah paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "But there is something I need to ask of you as well," he said, his gaze steady on Nicolette. She met his eyes, sensing the seriousness in his tone. "Please, do not provoke Klaus. However misguided his affection for you may be, it is real."

Nicolette felt a chill run down her spine at the weight of his words. "I won't intentionally provoke him, but I can't ignore what he's capable of," she replied, her voice firm but laced with concern. "I just… I need to be cautious."

"I understand," Elijah said, his expression softening. "But remember, he’s still a wild card. Tread carefully, Nicolette. The last thing we need is to escalate tensions."

She nodded, the gravity of their situation settling heavily in the air between them. "I'll do my best, Elijah. I just hope it’s enough."

He nodded, finished his drink, and stood up. "I shall take my leave now. I trust you both will be okay?" Both Elena and Nicolette nodded, and Nicolette walked him to the door. As she closed it behind him, she turned to Elena. "Stay with me tonight? I don't want to be alone," she said, her voice tinged with vulnerability. Elena readily agreed.

Later, as they lay in bed, both unable to fall asleep, the tension in the room hung heavy. Finally, Elena gathered her courage and broke the silence. "Do you like Klaus?" she asked, her tone cautious yet probing.

Nicolette froze for a moment, taken aback by the question. "I told you I want Klaus gone as much as you all do," she replied defensively, but her heart raced at the implications behind Elena's inquiry.

"You didn’t answer my question, Nicolette," Elena pressed gently, her eyes searching for the truth.

With a deep sigh, Nicolette turned to face her friend, the weight of the moment settling in. "It’s complicated, Elena," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Elena studied her closely. "You still wear the bracelet he gave you. That means something, doesn’t it? Earlier today, when you thought he might be dead, you touched it. It shows that there's a connection."

Nicolette’s breath hitched as she reflected on the truth behind Elena's words. "I know it seems that way, but wearing the bracelet doesn’t mean I have feelings for him," she said, trying to steady herself. "It's a reminder of everything that happened—the danger, the darkness, but also how he saved me."

Elena nodded slowly, her expression softening. "But do you have feelings for him? Even a little?"

The question hung in the air, and Nicolette felt her resolve wavering. "I can't deny that there's something there," she confessed, her voice trembling slightly. "But it's intertwined with fear and confusion. I don’t know how to sort through it all."

Elena's gaze remained steady. "Just be careful, Nicolette. Klaus is unpredictable, and whatever you feel, don’t let it blind you to who he really is."

"I know," Nicolette replied, the weight of her emotions heavy in her chest. "I promise I’ll be careful."

As they settled into an uneasy silence, Nicolette couldn’t shake the feeling that her complicated emotions for Klaus were only the beginning of a far more tumultuous journey ahead.

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