#i don't want to call it too soon i'm still Fragile but today was MUCH better. especially the past few hours

[walterdecourceys]

goodnight 🎉🎉

[yooniivrse]

healing touches | myg

summary. sometimes, your boyfriend's tender touches and caring actions help heal your fragile state faster than any medication.

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pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: fluff, established relationship au

word count: 2.2k

content: yoongi comes home to find you sick / he makes you food / reader can't help but fall asleep literally everywhere / yoongi loves you too much 😪😪

warnings: very brief mentions of passing out

a/n: im a slut for sick fics and i couldn't find many yoongi ones so i decided to just write one 😋 if anyone has any ideas for fluffy or suggestive yoongi drabbles feel free to drop them in my asks 🙏🙏

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main masterlist

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"I'm home!"

Yoongi's voice echoes through the house and he furrows his eyebrows at the lack of response to his words.

Usually, he would meet you at the lobby of your shared apartment on weekdays, as you would often stay back to grade a few assignments or prepare for the next day. On the days he didn't meet you, he would hear your footsteps as you made your way to greet him, or some sort of noise to prove that you were busy doing something.

But today, there was nothing but silence. Yoongi shrugs it off. You probably just lost track of time.

He makes his way into the living room and places the keys onto the small key holder on the wall.

He begins to remove his jacket but his actions still when he finds you sitting on the couch, a large blanket completely wrapped around you. The TV in front of you was on, but the sound was barely audible and your head was turned away from whatever you had put on to rest against the leather sofa.

Yoongi folds his jacket over his arm as he makes his way over to you.

"Did you get back from work early today?" He asks, placing a kiss on the top of your head.

You groan softly as you stir, slowly moving your head up to look at him through squinted eyes. You were going to whine about how he had disturbed your sleep, but decide against it. Complaining needed energy, energy that you currently lacked.

"Didn't go today. Called in sick."

A bead of sweat rolls down your temple and you begin to move out of the warm confinements of your blanket. Yoongi quirks an eyebrow at you, reaching out his hand to place it against your forehead.

You didn't have a fever, but your words came out dry and broken and there was a clear flush to your cheeks.

"Why didn't you tell me? Are you still feeling sick?"

You nod softly and move the blanket to the opposite end of the couch. You cringe at how your top sticks to your body from the sweat coating your skin.

"I just had a headache in the morning so I didn't think much of it. But after you left, I was like cold all of a sudden so I used the thermometer and it said I had a fever."

You leave out the part where you almost fainted in the bathroom as you changed back into your pyjamas after calling in sick, not wanting to worry your already worried boyfriend.

"You should've called me, I would've left work in a heartbeat," he says as he presses his lips against your forehead.

You ignore the way your heart flutters at his words, failing to bite back a smile.

"It wasn't even that bad, don't worry. Plus, I'm pretty sure the fever pretty soon after. I just fell asleep on the couch."

"Still. Did you take any medicine?"

"Yeah, I took some painkillers for the headache."

You notice how dry your voice is in your throat, wincing at the pain when you try to swallow.

"Did it help?"

"Not really, but I'm fine now so."

Yoongi places his jacket on the couch and makes his way to the medicine box he had placed in one of the kitchen cabinets, having to look through each one before finding it. He takes two tablets and brings them over to you along with a glass of water.

"I'm fine now, babe, seriously," you mumble, reluctantly taking the tablets and the glass from his hands.

"I don't wanna take any chances, love. Drink up."

He watches you as you tip the glass over your mouth and gulp down its contents. You hand it back over to him with a small sigh, and he places it down on the coffee table.

Your eyes scan over Yoongi's body. He's wearing a simple black hoodie, the one you steal from him the most because of how comfy the fabric is.

You reach out your arms invitingly, wanting nothing more than to melt in his arms after not seeing him the entire day.

"I don't wanna get you more sick though," he says, tilting his head as he runs his hands through his grown-out hair.

A small pout forms on your lips and you throw him a scowl.

"I'll get more sick and die right now if you don't cuddle me."

Yoongi laughs at your words. His gums are on display and his eyes crinkle into crescent moons.

"So dramatic," he mumbles.

The leather beside you sinks beneath his weight as he sits down and you instantly wrap yourself around him. His body radiates warmth and you throw one leg over his lap, snuggling your head closer into his chest.

────

You don't quite remember falling asleep, but when your eyes flutter open, the sunlight in the room is replaced by blue rays emitting from the TV.

Goosebumps erupt across your back and you slightly shiver. The space beside you is empty, Yoongi is no longer there to provide you with any heat.

You blame the moody weather for the chills you feel across your body. You were starting to regret throwing away the patterned blanket a few hours earlier, desperately craving the warmth it had enveloped you with.

A few minutes go by and the only thing on your mind is how you were going to die of hypothermia any minute now. You had closed your eyes in hopes of falling asleep again, but your actions went in vain.

You let out a small groan as you turn your head to try to spot the blanket, trickles of pain erupting from your neck.

The fabric sat just out of your reach, and it seemed to mock your weak attempts at attempting to grab it.

You give up fairly quickly and resort to sitting completely still, trying to dull the ache that pulses through your limbs.

You hadn't been this sick in months and you felt as if this was the universe's way of reminding you how miserable it was.

"You OK?"

Yoongi's voice is deep and you look up to see him standing at the doorway to the living room carrying a plastic bag in one hand.

He throws his keys onto the counter and they hit the marble loudly.

His eyes squint against the harsh light of the TV as he sets down the bag and moves towards you.

"Yeah, I was just tryna get the blanket. Where were you?"

He brushes away a few strands of your hair before resting his hand against your forehead.

"Shit, you're burning up. I don't think a blanket is a good idea, love," he says.

"But it's freezinggg."

Your words come out as a small whine. Yoongi's eyes shift between you and the blanket, weighing out both options.

"How about you go to the bedroom and I can put a wet towel on your head, so you cool down while also being under the duvet?"

You practically shiver at the idea of a cold towel against your skin.

"Fine."

Yoongi reaches out his hand and you hold onto it as you stand up. It takes more energy than anticipated and you wince at the throb of pain in your legs.

"Where were you?" You repeat.

"Oh right. I was gonna make you rice porridge so I needed to get some stuff. Apparently it's great for when you're feeling sick."

You smile at your boyfriend and place a small kiss on his cheek.

"Thanks, baby."

"Mhm, no problem." Yoongi's grateful for the dim lighting of the room so that you don't have the satisfaction of seeing the blush that taints his cheeks.

"I'll bring it to the bedroom, you go lie down."

You nod before slowly making your way to the bedroom as Yoongi moves into the kitchen.

────

By the time Yoongi comes into the room with a bowl in his hand, you're fast asleep again.

You lie completely curled up and covered by the blankets. Your cheeks are flushed from the incredible warmth you are putting your body through.

Yoongi sits down on the mattress carefully, not wanting to disrupt your peace.

"Wake up, love. Your food's ready."

"Not hungry," you mumble, bringing your knees closer to your body.

"You're not gonna get any better if you stay hungry."

You huff and reluctantly stretch out your limbs. With great effort, you lazily sit up against the headboard of the bed.

Yoongi takes a spoonful of the rice porridge and brings it to your lips. You take a mouthful and swallow it down eagerly.

"Not hungry my ass," Yoongi says with an accusing stare and you laugh.

You can't shake off the warm feeling that fills your heart at the domestics of the entire scene at hand as you take another large bite.

You end up eating the entire bowl but decide against asking for seconds. The need to sleep was stronger than anything else right now.

Yoongi leaves the room to put the bowl back and bring you a wet towel. He returns to find you sleeping again.

Your body must be exhausted from fighting whatever sickness had overtaken you for you to be sleeping this much.

He gently places the towel over your forehead, pressing it down so that it doesn't slip off onto the mattress.

Your brows furrow at his actions but you don't wake up. His hand reaches out to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, mumbling under his breath.

"Pretty."

Yoongi never thought he would find the one. He believed in love, but the idea of finding someone he could think of as home always seemed too unrealistic, a mere fantasy he would sometimes use for inspiration in his lyrics.

He never thought that the simple thought of someone could brighten his day. Until he met you.

You were chaotic and quiet and everything in between. Someone people could talk to comfortably and freely, someone open-minded and thoughtful.

Everyone seemed to love you, which is why it confused Yoongi whenever you would get flustered at the compliments that fell from his lips.

He thought you would have been used to it. He didn't know how someone could talk to you without showering you with compliments.

When he had told you this one night during the first few months of your friendship—before you started dating—you had laughed, confessing how you rarely ever got compliments. Yoongi still remembers how he had stood there dumbfounded.

Ever since that night, he had made a vow to shower you with compliments.

However, the words soon turned into a habit. They weren't any less truthful, but he found himself whispering them to you even while you were out of earshot or while you slept, like now.

Yoongi stays by your side for a minute longer, simply admiring the way the lamp on your nightstand illuminates your features with its faint glow.

Eventually, he stands up, only to feel your hand grab his before he can take a step.

Your grip is loose and your eyes are still closed, but you lightly tug at the sleeve of his hoodie and he finds himself returning to your side.

"Can you get me the blanket from the living room?"

Exhaustion laces your words despite the numerous naps you had taken throughout the day.

"Aren't you warm enough? I dont want you to have a heatstroke or something."

"I won't, I swear. Please?"

How can Yoongi say no when your voice comes out so fragile and your grip is so gentle. Fuck, you truly did have him wrapped around your finger.

"Fine."

You smile and Yoongi feels his heart skip multiple beats.

Your hand drops from his top and Yoongi retrieves your treasured blanket in less than a minute.

He drapes it over your figure, placing a kiss on your nose as he does so. He fights the urge to immediately slip into the bed beside you, not wanting your sickness to worsen from whatever his clothes may have contracted over the day.

He lazily strips himself and changes into the first pair of sweatpants he sees. He also takes off the wet towel from your forehead, wiping down your face and neck with it before folding it and placing it onto the nightstand.

Finally, he climbs under the duvet beside you. Your body instinctively turns to face his.

Yoongi doesn't expect to feel your lips on his cheek.

"Thank you. I really don't deserve you," you whisper. You drape an arm across his chest and roll onto your stomach, letting out a small moan of pain as you do so.

"You do, baby."

You deserve a lot more than just him taking care of you. You deserve the world itself in your hands and Yoongi knows that if you were to ever ask, he would give it to you in a heartbeat. He would give you the world and so much more.

He leans over your body to switch off the lamp.

"I love you," you whisper, a small yet content smile drawn on your face.

"I love you too."

[cosmicanakin]

Hi, can you do an imagine about pranking vinnie, and telling him to try not to annoy you today, please

★ PRANKS.

੭୧ . . . vinnie hacker x female!reader.

ᯓ you prank your boyfriend by telling him not to annoy you and it backfires, which wasn't what you expected.

warning(s) angst┆pranks┆emotional distress┆crying. 𓇼 thank you for requesting anon babe ! i'm sorry if it wasn't exactly how you wanted it but i hope you enjoy <3 mature content!

　✧⠀ ⠀⠀　𓈒　⠀⠀ ⠀૮₍ ´ ꒳ `₎ა⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ꪆৎ masterlist.

you wake up feeling mischievous, plotting a prank to play on your unsuspecting boyfriend vinnie. thinking up the perfect plan to really mess with him, you can't help the smirk forming as he slowly stirs awake.

leaning over, you whisper in his ear "good morning baby." however, your usually sweet tone holds an underlying edge of irritation that has vinnie blinking in confusion. before he can say anything, you continue in a clipped manner.

"i'm already annoyed so don't bother me at all for the rest of the day, okay? i mean it." his eyebrows furrow, clearly taken aback by your sharp words. searching your face for any sign that it's a joke, hurt washes over him as you give no indication you don't seriously want space.

"okay..." he says hesitantly, hurt flickering in his eyes as he climbs out of bed. part of you feels guilty seeing how your prank is already affecting him, but you're determined to commit fully to the bit. hopefully he'll catch on soon that you're messing with him.

throughout the morning, vinnie keeps his distance as asked, seeming uneasy and unsure what to do to not annoy you further. any attempts at jokes or affection are met with exaggerated irritation, cementing in his mind that you genuinely need space from him.

it grows harder to maintain your façade as his usual cheerfulness fades into guarded silence. by midday, remorse is gnawing a hole in your gut seeing how dejected vinnie appears. when he recoils from your touch with worried eyes, you can no longer take it.

"vinnie, i need to tell you something," you start, grabbing his arm as he tries to walk away. he pauses but doesn't turn, shoulders hunched in defeatedly. "this was all just a stupid prank baby, i don't actually want space from you."

whirling around, hurt and anger flash across his features. "a prank? i thought you were seriously pissed off at me! you had me questioning everything all day," he shouts, hurt turning to rage the longer he processes how badly you messed with him.

"i'm sorry, it was just a joke. i didn't mean to actually upset you,” you scramble to apologize but he brushes past, heading for the door. "where are you going?" panic surges through you, worrying you may have broken the fragile trust between you.

"i just need to be alone for a while, i can't even look at you right now," he spits venomously before slamming the front door behind him. collapsing to the floor, you pull your knees up to your chest as quiet sobs escape your lips.

hours pass with no word from vinnie, your texts and calls going unanswered in a painful silence. night falls heavily, adding to your despair wondering if you pushed him too far this time. just as you're about to give up hope, the door creaks open slowly.

lifting your head, you see vinnie standing uncertainly in the doorway, eyes puffy and red-rimmed from his own tears. without a word, he crosses over and falls into your waiting embrace, holding on for dear life. neither of you speak for a long while, simply taking comfort in being close again.

finally, vinnie pulls back enough to look at you with watery eyes. "i'm still so fucking mad at you but i love you too much to walk away. just promise me no more stupid pranks, okay?" he pleads brokenly.

"i promise, i'm so sorry sweetheart. can you ever forgive me?" you ask, cupping his face gently. he nods, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips in acceptance of your apology. holding each other tightly, you both silently vow to communicate better to avoid such hurt in the future.

your love proves stronger than any misstep could fracture, bonding that transcends fleeting fallouts. here in sanctuary of each other's arms rediscovered, all remnants of shadows melt under floods of forgiveness' warmth. two souls learn as one, growing through missteps refined to blossoms entwining roots anchored in understanding deeper than any sea. this you vow eternally, to cherish the blossoms arising where hearts intertwine.

[elusivecagedmockingbird]

Still Untitled

[jungkook x reader] [ 1k+ fluff]

A/N: Something short and sweet. I initially wrote a lil bit of smut, but it came out a bit perverted and I don't think it fits the character of Jungkook in this fic. I still have no title for this, but I'm so glad to receive such great lovely feedback!

Untitled

-

Before you can talk yourself out of it, your feet are walking towards Jungkook.

A breathy and meek hi leaves your mouth, the sudden greeting has him turning around to face you. Before you can backtrack, your hand extends to offer a carton of banana milk to Jungkook.

You're not sure if you're glad he's being super quiet, but wanting to get this done in one go, the words swiftly fly out of your mouth.

"I'mreallysorryaboutlastnightImistookyouforsomeoneelse," you expel in one shaky breath.

Jungkook looks perplexed, probably unsure what to make of the sudden apology, you assume. You were contemplating if you needed to elaborate, but as soon as Jungkook took the milk from your hands, hesitantly—you observed—your legs were quick to find their way back to your space and hide behind your propped up easel.

Had you stayed a second longer, you would have witnessed Jungkook break out a childish grin and blush. His hold on the carton was so gentle, one would have thought he was holding something far too fragile than a drink.

-

The class had passed quickly, which you were thankful for, for the first time. As soon as the clock hit 5:00, you rushed to bag your stuff—no plans of staying extra hours for today. You're still mortified from yesterday and while you don't think a lousy apology makes up for your misplaced accusation, you also don't have the courage of facing Jungkook.

At least, not now, you reason to yourself. Promising to scrape more courage for next time.

In your haste of leaving, you forgot to unhook the strap of your tote from the chair and as you lug your bag behind you as you speed walk, the chair topples and your things tumble out and scatter to the floor, much like the smithereens of your dignity.

A whispered curt curse is heard from you before you rush to pick up the rolling colored pencils.

"Here," Even with your head downcast and eyes glued to the floor, you know whose tattooed hands are handing your pencils towards you.

"Thanks," you clear your throat and glance at the man you wronged. "I got it," you softly say, a subtle way of shoo-ing him away, once again.

You stood up abruptly after shoving everything inside your bag. You see Jungkook lift the chair upright and thank him. You get a response in the form of a smile.

You made three streps before you heard your name called. With obvious reluctance, you face Jungkook and raise your brow in question. Afraid if you open your mouth, something judgmental comes out. Or maybe just that you choke from the clawing embarrassment.

"Do you wanna get coffee?" Jungkook adjusts his backpack on his shoulder. This time, he's taking Namjoon's advice. Just ask her to go out, even if it's just getting coffee after her class. It's a better way to get to know each other. Pick up lines are lame, his hyung said which earned a loud yelp of disagreement from Seokjin. Still, Jungkook thinks Namjoon made more sense.

Plus, he remembers those times whenever he sees you on campus, you always held a cup of coffee. And today, before class, he noticed you had nothing with you other than milk—which even turned out to be for him. He'd get all giggly later, for now, he has a bigger daunting task.

Throughout the class, Jungkook was internally hyping himself up to ask you for coffee. He almost felt pathetic when he saw you quickly pack your things and rush out, already thinking he'll have to run after you. But lo and behold, the universe bought him time.

"I-It's kinda late for coffee, don't you think?" You covered your uneasiness by clearing your throat and pretending to look at your watch. It was too quick of a glance to read the time, he notices. He knows you're evading him. Panic rushes into Jungkook. While on good days, he prided himself for thinking on his feet—those days helped him win rebuts with Seokjin—this moment would have been the one time where the words he uttered couldn't be more nonsensical and embarrassing, "Well, drinking coffee before bed will keep you awake at night is a myth, anyway." The words trailed off one by one as it reached the end, but you heard him loud and clear.

You were to quick to mask your visible confusion by pursing your lips, as if considering what he just said. But Jungkook knows how stupid he sounded. There was no redemption from this.

But just when Jungkook was ready to wave the white flag, he heard you snort a laugh. He looks up and sees your lips break out in a grin—one you tried to hide with an adorable nose scrunch, but your amusement still shone through with a tight-lipped smile. Then, finally, you look at Jungkook and this moment, he'll forever remember because you're looking at him with adoring eyes.

"Fine, then," you agree, lips still toying an amused smile. "Since you're so desperate for coffee you're making stuff up. But I'm getting a decaf."

Your turn and walk towards the approaching evening, and Jungkook follows suit with a lovesick smile.

-

"Wait... you thought I was Kim Jongkook?!"

You sheepishly smile, your fingers on the table scratches the surface, an anxiety tick. But you also look like someone desperately digging for a hole where you can escape to. You want to be away from this awkward confrontation where you have no excuse, no rebut.

“It really was an honest mistake. I’m sorry for lashing out on you.” Your head hangs with shame as you apologize for the nth time.

Unbeknownst to you, Jungkook noticed and took note of your tick. He really was just teasing you, enjoying your adorable puppy eyes, even more so that it's directed towards him. But perhaps, he had his fun. He smiles and comforts you—saying it’s fine and he understands. Right as you look up at him, your names are called for your ordered coffees.

In the same breath which he decides he wants to always be this close with you, he's also unsure how much he can hold back from wanting to just kiss you. And so, as much as Jungkook didn't want to break away from the moment, he stands from his seat, “I’ll get it. Just… you won’t leave, right?”

You would think he was teasing, making a jab from the couple of times you walked out from him, but seeing his pensive eyes had you retracting your assumption. “I’ll be here,” you smile reassuringly.

-

Your trip for coffee, but as per Jungkook's delusion—your date— lasted longer for hours. Small conversations were shared between the tiny round table that held your cups of drinks. No more hole-scratching on the table and downcast embarrassed eyes.

Jungkook thinks his heart may burst from happiness.

Unfortunately, your phone pings, breaking the bubble that enclosed you and Jungkook, one that temporarily kept you away from the outside noise. “Oh, sorry. That’s my alarm.” Your eyebrows furrow as you glance at your watch. This time, really looking at the time, Jungkook observes.

“I should be somewhere now, actually.” As you quickly gather your things, Jungkook matches your pace—grabbing your littered cups and tissues on the table, picking up the proof of your shared evening.

“This was really nice, Jungkook. I now partly feel bad for judging you too quickly,” you tease as you watch him trash the stacked cups.

“That’s not good enough,” Jungkook crosses his now free arms, biceps bulging that were not missed by your eyes. He sees the trail of your sight and that was just what he needed to be confident enough to ask for another coffee date. One that you agreed to without hesitation.

He grows giddy and excited. Wanting tomorrow—Thursday—to come sooner. He doesn't mind if the day ends quickly now as you part ways. And it isn’t until you round a corner that you both stop turning around to check on the other.

-

[zablife]

Ruins

Summary: With Tommy's love and support, Lily speaks to her husband for the first time in over a year.

A/N: A continuation of my AU between Tommy and his catatonic wife Lily, a victim of the Changretta family's brutality. Read their journey beginning with Lily, then Windflowers.

Warnings: mention of abuse, PTSD

"Tommy," it was the first word she'd spoken since her kidnapping and it nearly broke him. The sound of her fragile, aching voice calling for solace within the walls of their darkened bedroom.

He'd sprung forward instantly to embrace her, too afraid to let the fleeting moment for connection slip through his fingers. "I'm here. You're safe with me," he'd whispered against her skin, wondering how much she heard. "I love you, Lily," he professed early that morning, tears falling into her thick hair as he cradled her into him as carefully as he could manage.

Tommy didn't dare breathe as his wife rested her cheek atop the Romani sun just above his heart. In fact, he didn't sleep for hours afterward, devoting himself to her comfort as he lovingly stroked the long strands of hair that fell across his shoulder. He could only watch in hushed awe as her ribcage rose and fell against his in total relaxation.

"I never thought I'd hear you say it again," he whispered gratefully into the silence, chest swelling with emotion.

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

The days after passed quickly, Lily's progress suddenly moving at a pace that frightened Tommy greatly. Words turned to sentences and soon he feared she would speak of the brutality she'd endured.

"What if I'm not ready, Pol?" he gulped, watching his aunt with anxious eyes.

"She can't put a face on any longer, my boy," Polly reminded him. "You've heard the doctor's reports...know what those men did to her. This will be the hardest part, I won't lie to you."

She took a deep breath as she rose from her chair, staring out the window to watch Lily in the garden, memories of her own misfortune returning to her. Turning to face her nephew she added thoughtfully, "The awful truth is the fingerprints stain your skin forever....All you can do now is be there for her, listen to her." Eyes filled with unshed tears, Polly squeezed Tommy's hand as she gave a firm nod, an unspoken understanding he would do the right thing.

Tommy bit down hard on his lower lip to keep it from trembling, a deep inhale of breath to steady himself before searching for his wife in the gardens.

"Lily, my darling," he greeted her with a soft kiss to her cheek. "How are you today?"

"It's hard...to...to be brave... alone," she stuttered.

"You don't have to be alone anymore," he promised, taking her hand in his, the ache of her limp hand never quite leaving his consciousness, guilt weighing him down like a boulder. "I'm here with you and if there's anything you want to say, I'm listening," he assured, the softness of his blue eyes washing over her in gentle waves.

Lily remained still for a lengthy period, back rigid against the garden bench and Tommy sighed in bitter disappointment for the silence lingering between them.

Then unexpectedly, her voice began in trepidation. It was a shaky start as she seemed to hum first, testing out her throat to see if it steady enough before venturing forth. Then, much to Tommy's surprise, the words came tumbling out. "I didn't say a word...surely that proves it," she seemed to accuse herself. Though the content was troubling, her tone remained flat and her eyes stared ahead, watching something far in the distance.

Tommy captured her face in his palms, forcing her gaze toward his. "Proves what, eh? I know you did everything you could," he insisted.

She fought against him for a moment, eyes wild as she jerked her chin defiantly, a harsh catch of her breath letting him know some agonizing memory was reaching the innermost workings of her mind, too deep for him to penetrate. Tommy lifted his hands from her face, palms raised in surrender to show she was free to do as she pleased.

When Lily saw she was safe, her breathing slowed and she ventured a glance toward Tommy. Passing a trembling hand through her hair she confided, “They said our girl would live…” her voice broke before adding bitterly, “They laughed because I was stupid enough to believe them.”

Then in a voice so quiet it was almost carried away on the wind, she whispered to the ground, “I wish I could explain why…”

Tommy reached for her once more, an empathetic warmth to his words as he promised, "I don't fucking care about those bastards. And you know why? Because what they’ve made you believe is a lie! You're so fucking strong. You fought to come back to me and you have no idea how much more I love you for that."

Lily's tear stained face turned slowly toward her husband, a mixture of shame and desperation pleading for his help, hoping just this once he could hear her through the broken words. “How could you love me now? It’s my…my fault.”

"You're not to blame, you hear me? I won't let you frame yourself for their sins anymore," Tommy answered with conviction.

She hung her head in disbelief, a single protest left upon her lips. "I'm in ruins, Tommy," she confessed, sadly. "Is that the wife you hoped to welcome home?"

Tommy gave her his answer by cupping her chin and brushing his lips to hers tenderly. The gentle affection was reassuring, a forgotten memory resurfacing of a spring afternoon like this one many years ago. Something in the familiarity of her surroundings, combined with Tommy’s comforting scent relaxed her, body melting into his as he cradled her against his broad shoulder. The kiss was short and chaste by comparison to those they'd shared in the past, but Tommy's heart soared as Lily reciprocated his affection with a sigh upon her lips.

Foreheads pressed together, Tommy sought Lily's hand, lacing their fingers together. "We'll rebuild," he proposed with a gentle squeeze. "Because you're mine and you always will be," he swore beneath the canopy of wisteria and roses.

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

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@nerdyreaderpapi

[andy-wm]

Please love me is Jimin's line today

The hardest few seconds for me to watch, were these...

Jimin was absolutely dreading appearing on screen without his trademark beautiful hair.

We know he left it as late as he could and didn't want to show anyone.

He looked like he was barely holding it together when he called attention to his hair being shaved. He must have genuinely been scared of the reaction he would get, even from Kook.

"It looks good on you"

Jungkook, you absolute fucking LEGEND 💜

He knew exactly what to say.

When Jungkook told Jimin he looked good (even with no hair) Jimin turned his face away <those feels choking him up> and when he turned back, the almost desperate look of gratitude mixed with relief was so clear.

Please love me is Jimin's line today.

This is not about vanity, ego or pride.

It brings home how fragile his confidence is. His need for approval and the assurance of being loved is strong. It’s so heartbreaking, but we know he hasn't had an easy road.**

Thankfully he did stand a little bit taller once JK reassured him...

But it wasn't an easy moment for Jungkook either.

Whether because he had to witness Jimin's fear and could do nothing more than pet his head, or because he was facing his own misgivings (probably both) he looked equally lost in that moment.

Remember that these boys have left their home once before and journeyed to a place that was less than welcoming. They've had to face the grim, disproving faces of unkind critics and a system that didn't support or value them.

I don't doubt there were echoes of that feeling on this day, that same sense of trepidation they've known before.

We know how the military treats men like them.

And then...

we got this:

You can take the boy out of Busan but you can't take Busan out of the boy.

(People say this about my home town too...)

The shadow of fear is still there in his eyes but.... he looks like a (very hot) backstreet thug who will absolutely fuck you up no questions asked.

It does occur to me that MS might be the reason Jimin has been learning to fight.

I mean really learning to fight.

Yes he's probably doing boxing too but i suspect something more than that ... you shouldn't get torn knuckles from boxing lessons unless you aren't wrapping your hands properly, just saying.

<Gotta love a person who can hold you and cradle your head, and also knock down an aggressor when they have to.>

If all else fails (words before fists, right?) I hope he can handle himself.

If he must defend himself, and someone (not him) looks like they've had a close encounter with his fists, I saw nothing.

I hope for both of them, their background will serve them well. In any case they will support one another and their love will see them through this. It's exactly why they are enlisting as companions.

🐰🐥

This is no easy journey, for these young men (all seven of them) or for their families, their friends, and their loved ones. Yes, it's reality of life for every person in Korea, but that doesn't make it easier when it's YOU or YOUR person who is going away.

I am seeing them off with an in ache in my chest - I know we all are. But I'm toasting their successful military service, and their quick return.

짠 지민아, 정국이! We love you 💜💛

See you soon, Angels.

** 'Hurry up and be me soon' ...

Some of us know how much it costs to put our authentic self out into the world. The sacrifices you have to be willing to make are huge. You're not only exposing your own vulnerabilities, but the flow on effect for your family and friends is real.

<talking specifically about Jimin here... how many times do you think his parents will have to say 'no, Jimin doesnt have a girlfriend, and no he isn't looking for one... No he doesn't plan to marry'.>

It's a long journey to self love and acceptance...

We know Jimin has been through a number of iterations of himself. He's been through the tough guy phase, the closed book, the siren, aloof and sophisticated, and the gently feminine.

The image he presents to the world is as much a construct as any person's is - and whether you're aware of this or not, all our public selves are social constructs.

"One size does not fit all" for queer people

For cis gendered heterosexual people, society has a few different ready-made constructs you can adopt, and the rest of society automatically understands the message you're sending. Most of them maintain the status quo of heterosexual cultural norms.

For anyone who DOESNT fit those norms, it's honestly never going to feel good expressing an image that isnt really you. Its like trying and make your circle self fit in a square box.

But theres nothing else that's readily available...

You really have to construct your public image from scratch.

When you aren't part of that typical demographic, figuring out how you want to be seen by the world can be an arduous and complex process.

How much do you reveal? How much do you risk?

You'll experiment with styles, behaviours, and social groups until you find a safe space you can occupy.

Jimin's safe space is with ARMY or his members, but it requires looking perfect.

Think about Jimin's hesitance to appear on camera without makeup. How carefully he chooses his clothes - whether for airport appearances, stage performance or out on the street. He usually has a team of people making sure he looks perfect. His hair is a trademark feature. It's always beautiful.

Remember that he's used to EVERYONE LOOKING AT HIM, ALL THE TIME.

Imagine how it feels to go out in public - against your will - with a shaved head.

Without hair, he would have surely felt naked. Plus, he's no longer in the safe embrace of ARMY, and his buffer of security and managers keeping him out of danger is gone.

He's immensely famous, but not universally loved (don't even go there) and bald, and small, and an IDOL, and very gay ... lets go with unlikely to be heterosexual.

No wonder he was feeling vulnerable.

Ngl, it broke my heart to see him so afraid but I'm sure he'll have a substantial group of supporters around him. I can only hope.

💜💛

[fangirlfrom-hell]

The Fragile Bonds Part 4 || Jay and Will Halstead x Halstead Sister

*re-posting this because I'm stupid and accidentaly erased my other blog 🫠 If you were following this story I'd appreciate your reblogs 🙏🏻

Summary: After their father's death, Becca moved in with Jay. This is the first time the detective brother has to go undercover since his sister has been under his full care, creating a challenging situation for both. Reluctantly, Becca will have to live with Will and his family during those days, even though she doesn't feel very welcome in that household.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

It was a cloudy afternoon, with no sign of the sun in sight. The rain had subsided, and if it weren't for the gentle drops trickling down the windowpane, it might have gone unnoticed.

Becca lay on her bed, engrossed in the book Mr. Olinsky had given her. The story revolved around a lonely orphan girl who discovers the existence of a giant and goes with him into his world. Becca enjoyed the book, but at that moment, she found it hard to concentrate on her reading. She placed it on her chest and turned her gaze toward the window. She remained still for a few minutes, imagining Hailey's car pulling up on the street. She hoped that this would happen, as the detective had promised to visit her that day. Nevertheless, Becca was accustomed to last-minute changes in plans, a common occurrence in a detective's line of work. She continued to gaze outside, lost in thought, until her reverie was interrupted by a knock at the door from Will.

"Everything okay?" Will asked, but no words came out of his sister. She simply nodded.

"What are you reading?" Her brother approached and took a seat on the edge of the bed, prompting her to do the same. "The BFG?"

"The Big Friendly Giant," she replied. "Mr. Olinsky gave it to me, and he always asks me about it. I want to finish it for the next time I see him."

"Oh," Will was uncertain about how to react. It felt a bit strange to him that she was close to Jay's co-workers. For a moment, it tugged at his heart that she might be becoming closer to them than to him.

"Did you finish your homework?" Will inquired.

"Uh, no. It's Friday, and I don't feel like doing homework right now. I still have the whole weekend," Becca replied.

"Well," he said, taking the book from her hands, "I suggest you finish it today. We're planning to go to the aquarium tomorrow." He smiled from ear to ear.

"The aquarium?" Becca asked without much excitement.

"Yeah! We've been wanting to take Owen for a while now. Tomorrow's a great chance to do it, and you get to come with us," he said, excited and genuinely thinking Becca would be too.

"But tomorrow is my..."

"What?"

"Um, never mind..." She rolled her eyes, hoping that Jay would return at any moment. She was accustomed to Will always forgetting her birthday and other important events related to her, anyway.

"It will be fun!" Will tried to persuade her.

At this point, Becca couldn't even muster a fake smile. As soon as she was left alone in the room, she buried her face in a pillow, muffling her scream of frustration.

It felt as though time had ceased to exist that afternoon, a strange and surreal feeling. Becca spent most of the time in a state of half-sleep, drifting in and out, as if she were trying to fast-forward through the day. She didn't want to be awake.

By the time she finally woke up for good, it was already dark outside. She realized she had slept for a long time and suddenly remembered Hailey. Her heart raced with worry, fearing she might have missed a visit from the detective. "No, no, no," she muttered, reaching for her phone in the drawer. She discovered three missed calls and a text from Detective Upton.

Something surged, I'm sorry

The tone of the text conveyed the urgency. She put her phone in the back pocket of her jeans, just in case Hailey called again, she didn’t want to miss another call from Jay.

Leaving Mr. Snuggles behind, Becca ventured out of her dark room and was momentarily dazzled by the brightness of the rest of the house. The cold hit her immediately, and she shivered, regretting her choice of wearing only a light sweater over a tank top.

There were a lot of noises. The animated voices of cartoons emanated from the TV, Owen's plaintive cries echoed through the air, and Natalie's soothing reassurances cut through the clamor. Meanwhile, on the other side of the house, the clinking of plates, the splashing of water, and the rhythmic hiss of flames on the stove created a symphony of domestic activity. It smelled good. 

Upon entering the kitchen, Becca found her brother, Will, busy at the stove.

"Pasta!" He exclaimed, snapping his fingers and pointing to his little sister. "You can eat that, right? You can't be allergic to pasta!"

A smile graced Becca's lips as she responded, "Yeah, I can eat pasta. That's actually what Jay makes whenever he's too lazy to cook... which is often." Their shared laughter infused the room with a comforting sense of camaraderie.

"Well, dinner's almost ready. I bet you're hungry."

"Yes, I actually am. And it smells delicious." Becca's gratitude was evident in her words, and Will's smile in return felt like a small victory, he finally made Becca feel good.

"What's wrong with Owen?"

"I don't know, he just doesn't want to sleep. We didn't take him to the park because of the rain, so it might be all of his pent-up energy."

"Oh." Just as they were discussing Owen's restlessness, the baby's cries subsided, and the volume of the cartoons from the TV surged. Becca turned to glance at the wall clock; it read 7:00 PM. It was still relatively early, and she realized she hadn't slept as long as she thought.

"It's freezing," Becca mentioned, crossing her arms to ward off the chill.

"Here," Will offered, taking off his own sweater. "I don't want you to get sick." It was evident that he wanted to ensure Becca remained in the room with him, not wanting to break the peaceful moment they were sharing.

"No, it's all good," Becca quickly responded. "I'll get one from my bag. I'll be right back."

The door of the room was open, but the girl didn’t pay much attention to that detail. However, when she got in, she immediately noticed something amiss. The bed was empty. "Mr. Snuggles?" she thought, her heart sinking. She approached the bed, thinking she might have hidden the stuffed animal beneath the pillow, but her search yielded no trace of the beloved cat.

"Oh, no!" Panic gripped her, and she began frantically throwing pillows and blankets onto the floor, desperately searching for the missing plush companion.

“WILL! WILL!”, she screamed anxiously.

The redhead was at the door frame in an instant, a mixture of alarm and concern etched across his face.

"Wha--? What happened?" His own fear was palpable as they observed Becca, her tearful countenance and the disheveled state of the bed sheets. Quickly, he closed the distance and moved to her side.

“Mr. Snuggles is not here, HE’S NOT ANYWHERE!”

Will was confused, he didn’t understand what she was talking about.

“My stuffed animal!”

“Oh, the cat?” He finally realized. “Did you look well on the bed? Under?”

“WILL, I’M TELLING YOU–”

He could not understand why his sister was overeating that way, but he could feel her anxiety and exasperation. 

He put a hand on her shoulder and continued with a soothing tone, "ok, ok, let's go. I'll help you find it". 

Then, he proceeded to look under the bed, but there was no trace of the cat. "I don't know, Becca. Are you sure you leaved it in here? You didn't take it outside? Look, it's alright, tomorrow when we get out of the aquarium, we can go get a new one, I promise". 

However, this offer only seemed to exacerbate Becca's distress. She started bawling, and Will could see the profound sadness in her eyes, even if he didn't fully comprehend the situation. All he could do was embrace her, but Becca remained unresponsive, not reciprocating the hug.

"It's okay, Becca. You'll get a new one, and it will be even better. That cat was already old." Will tried to console her, although he was still perplexed by the depth of her attachment to the lost stuffed cat.

Becca's tears flowed uncontrollably as her mind became a whirlwind of memories from that special birthday when she had received Mr. Snuggles. She could see her mother's warm and loving smile, and picture Jay's supportive presence as he helped her unwrap the gift box. Those recollections also brought back the bittersweet image of their father, sitting at the table, all of them sharing a birthday cake. But what weighed most heavily on Becca's mind was the recollection of her mother's gentle voice and the overwhelming fear that gripped her – the fear that she might forget her mother's comforting scent and her cherished appearance if she were to lose Mr. Snuggles. It was this fear, this painful possibility, that had driven her to such intense distress.

In her frustration, Becca pushed her brother away, her actions betraying the depth of her anguish. "You don't get it," she groaned. The rawness of her emotions was palpable, and it left a profound ache in Will's chest as he struggled to comprehend the intensity of her distress and find a way to comfort her.

In that moment, the sound of laughter echoed from the living room, and it was at that moment Becca pieced together what had likely transpired. With a sense of urgency, she darted out of the room, her brother following closely behind. There, in the living room, she found Mr. Snuggles in the firm grasp of Owen, who was gleefully swinging the stuffed cat from side to side, dancing to the music of his cartoons.

"Mr. Snuggles," Becca whispered in relief.

Natalie, seated on the sofa, turned to look at Becca, initially unaware of the distress that had gripped the girl.

"Oh," she remarked to Becca. "It was the only thing that could calm him down. I was walking him around the house, and he wandered into the guest room to find it. I told him we would borrow it from you."

Will's voice came from behind, breaking the tension. "Good that we found him," he sighed in relief. "You still have my word about the new stuffed animal, though." He reached out and hugged his sister by the shoulder, still puzzled by her intense reaction and concerned by the fact that she was still upset. He wished he could understand and help her better, but for now, all he could do was be there for her.

"Will, I--thank you," Becca whispered in a hushed tone, ensuring her words were only for her brother's ears. "But I don't need or want another one. I need Mr. Snuggles, and I can't let Owen have it, I really can't."

Will glanced at Owen playing with the black cat. He didn't initially see the issue, but the intensity of Becca's emotions was impossible to ignore. He furrowed his brow and returned his gaze to her, realizing that she was genuinely suffering. It was clear that the stuffed animal held immense significance for her.

"Okay, alright," he said gently, attempting to wipe away her tears.

"Owen, come here," Will knelt to be at the boy's level. "Buddy, this little cat here is already tired. It's time for him to go back to sleep." As he tried to take Mr. Snuggles from Owen's small hands, the boy became upset and clung tighter to the toy.

“Will, what are you doing?” Natalie intervened.

“Becca wants, needs her plush back, that’s all”.

“He’s been restless for two hours, this thing is the only thing that has calmed him”.

“Yes, I know, but it’s not his, and we should have asked Becca first if we wanted to take it”.

Becca felt a warmth in her heart as she watched her brother stand up for her in front of his girlfriend, something that had never happened before. 

"Owen, pal, please," Will implored. He managed to gently take the stuffed animal from the boy's hands, but Owen's reaction was immediate – he started crying and throwing a tantrum.

Becca couldn't help but feel awful. She didn't want the baby to cry, and a wave of guilt washed over her for not letting him have Mr. Snuggles. But she just couldn't, if it were any other toy, she wouldn't have hesitated to lend it to him.

"Will!" Natalie scolded, and the cat went back into Owen's hands.

Will found himself in a difficult position, torn between wanting to please Becca and not fully comprehending the depth of her attachment to the toy.

"Becc, just lend it to him for a while. He'll get tired of it soon, you'll see."

Becca watched as Owen continued to play with Mr. Snuggles, her heart heavy with mixed emotions. She shuddered when she saw him putting one of the toy's ears into his mouth. The thought of her mother's scent slowly fading away from the cherished stuffed animal weighed heavily on her mind, making it even more difficult to let go.

“No, I can’t”

Will tried to stop her, but he didn't have the heart to do it.

"Owen, baby, I'm sorry, you need to give it back to me, please," Becca pleaded with a soft, gentle tone. However, Natalie intervened defensively.

"Becca, stop acting like this. It's just a toy, and he's just a kid."

Seizing the opportunity when Owen momentarily left the cat on the floor, Becca reached for it with a sense of relief. But at the same time, Natalie grasped it by the tail, and in the struggle to pull it towards herself, the stuffed animal tore in two.

Becca clutched the body of Mr. Snuggles in her arms, her eyes filled with horror as she stared at the torn tail on the floor. Her beloved companion had been torn apart, and she was left in shock, aghast at the sudden, painful loss.

"NO!" Becca's anguished scream pierced the air, sending shivers down Will's spine. Her cries escalated into a torrent of tears, her emotions a chaotic whirlwind of anger, sorrow, and anxiety. She felt trapped and overwhelmed, and all she wished for was to escape that painful moment.

"I wish I was dead too!" Becca's words, spoken with laboring breaths, were a heartbreaking cry for release. She bolted towards the front door in a desperate attempt to escape, but Will managed to reach her in time, pulling her into a hug from behind, trying to be gentle and cautious, afraid of hurting her in the process. His embrace was a lifeline, an attempt to anchor her and provide the support she desperately needed in that agonizing moment.

"Let me go! Leave me alone!" Becca's cries reverberated, her voice laced with anguish and despair. No one had ever witnessed her in such a state; she appeared as if she were possessed, kicking and hitting, doing everything in her power to break free from her brother's embrace, as if she were fighting against her own tormenting emotions.

"I can't. I can't let you go like this. I need you to calm down, sweetie. Calm down, Beccs, everything's okay," Will implored, his words filled with love and concern.

But those last words pierced her like a dagger to the heart. Nothing was okay; everything felt wrong. Her world was fractured. She no longer had her dad, her mom, or Jay. The only thing that still connected her to her mother had been damaged. She didn't have a home, and she couldn't find her place in this world. In her anguish, Becca acted without thinking, biting Will's arm to break free from his embrace, her pain manifesting in a desperate attempt to escape her overwhelming emotions.

“Will, she bit you. Do something!” Natalie’s accusations rumbled in her ears.

“No, no. It’s ok, Beccs. It’s alright”, Will tried to calm his sister, whose little face looked frightened.

Everything happened so fast and Becca managed to break free and escape through the front door. She ran as fast as her legs could carry her, her vision blurred by tears, making it impossible to see clearly where she was headed. 

Unheeding of Natalie's protests, Will chased after her, desperate to catch up.

"Becca! Becca, please!" His voice reached her ears, calling her name at a distance, but it grew fainter and fainter as she continued to run. "Becca!" She heard one last anguished cry, a long and agonized scream that filled the air with sorrow.

When she finally came to a halt, she was exhausted, her breathing labored. She looked around, but the surroundings were unfamiliar, and she couldn't identify the street or any nearby landmarks. She was lost, but returning the way she came wasn't an option, so she continued to walk, trying to find her bearings and make sense of her tumultuous emotions.

It was dark and cold, and she wasn't properly dressed, lacking a warm sweater. Her nose turned red, and her face and ears stung from the biting chill, but she didn't stop walking. She suddenly remembered she had her phone in her pocket and, without breaking her stride, she pulled it out. She dialed the number, but the call didn't connect; the number she called was turned off. Nonetheless, she decided to leave a message on the voicemail.

"J-Jay..."

Will was overwhelmed by fear, his mind racing with countless scenarios. He rushed back inside his home to retrieve his car keys, wasting no time, and then immediately returned to search for Becca. Determined to find his sister and make sure she was safe, he set out with a sense of urgency.

Meanwhile, Becca continued walking along a dimly lit street, too afraid to stop and ask for help. At this point, even if she wanted to, she couldn't return to Will's house, as she was unsure how to find her way back. Eventually, she came upon a bench in a park that seemed relatively safe, with a few children and their mothers nearby.

With trembling hands, she retrieved her phone from the back pocket of her jeans and called Hailey's number multiple times, but there was no answer. Frustrated and desperate, she decided to send a text:

Hailey, I need you. Please, call me

Becca quickly noticed a man approaching her, which instinctively made her stand up and call Hailey one last time.

"Hey, girl!" The man continued walking toward her at an accelerated pace. "Are you alone?"

Once more, there was no answer on the other side of the line. This time, however, Becca decided to speak to the voicemail. Her voice trembled and cracked as she cried out of fear, "Hailey! Hailey! I really need your help..."

The stranger was now just a few steps away from her and made a gesture as if he was trying to take her arm. In a panic, Becca screamed at him while still on the call, "No, get off!" She then began to run once again, desperate to escape the approaching stranger.

After several minutes of wandering around, shivering from the cold and filled with fear, unable to stop crying, Becca found herself standing beneath a well-lit area outside a small store where a steady flow of people passed by. She retrieved her phone once more, but her heart sank when she realized the battery was dead. Cursing her misfortune, she felt a touch on her shoulder and startled in fear.

"It's okay, honey," a woman's voice reassured her. "I'm not going to hurt you. Are you okay? Are you lost? Do you need help?"

However, Becca was now too paranoid and frightened to trust a stranger. She took a few steps back, her guard up.

"Okay, okay, don't go. Don't worry," the woman said, trying to be reassuring. "I'll call the police, and they'll help you get back home, okay? I'll stay here with you."

But as soon as the woman briefly took her eyes off the young girl, Becca seized the opportunity to slip away and disappear into the night.

"Did you find her?" Natalie inquired, even though it was only Will who returned to the car. He was overwhelmed, his stress and anxiety apparent as he sat on the entrance stairs, his elbows on his knees and his hands on his face. His girlfriend knelt beside him and rubbed his back in a soothing manner. "She'll be back soon."

"Are you sure? She's a 12-year-old girl wandering the streets alone at night. She's never been out alone!"

"She must be hiding somewhere, like in a game. She just wants to get your attention. Give her time."

Will couldn't bear the waiting any longer. "She's anxious, stressed, and sad. She was crying her eyes out. She must be frightened and cold right now. And it's all my fault," his voice quivered as he spoke. Will ran his hands over his face in frustration. "We should call the police," he suggested.

"What? No!"

"It's been three hours now!"

"If you call the police, Jay will find out about this!"

Determined, Will stood up. "He'll find out anyway."

Natalie continued to resist, "...and we'll have the entire Intelligence unit here. Is that what you want?"

"Actually, yes, Natalie. I want every cop in Chicago looking for my little sister, if that's possible!" 

The 21st district was empty, the only sound filling the station was the echo of footsteps ascending the stairs. Jay was the first to enter the bullpen, followed by the rest of the Intelligence detectives and officers, all dressed in their tactical gear. He was the sole individual in plain clothes, and he looked thoroughly exhausted.

"Good job!" Voight patted Halstead on the back. "All of you. Now, go rest. The paperwork can wait until tomorrow. These punks aren't going anywhere." Before retreating to his office, the sergeant turned back to address Jay again. "Take a day off, you've earned it."

"Thanks, Sarge," Jay acknowledged.

"Alright, it's 10:40. Still time to head to Molly's to celebrate," Adam announced to the room. "First round's on me. Who's coming?"

They all accepted the invitation, including Hank from his desk.

"Jay, you coming?" Kevin inquired when he noticed Jay hesitating.

"No, I'll pass, guys. I'll just shower and go straight to pick up Becca. She must be losing her mind after a week with Will," he quipped with a smile. "If I hurry, I can still be the first one to wish her a happy birthday."

[maryannecrimsworth]

Little Spider Show

Part 1 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10

Guide for tormented hearts

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Selective mute Reader

Warnings: anxiety crisis; another bullying(I mean, revenge) scene;

Summary: You are not the one who forgets. Not when they called you worthless for no reason and made you vomit in the middle of the hallway. So as soon as you woke up and your brother unlocked your cell, you knew exactly how to take revenge. Your plan was going to work perfectly — until Wednesday sat beside you. But you had no idea that her plan would be so much better than yours.

Hank was staring directly at you when you sat up inside the cage. You were still dirty and wearing Nevermore’s uniform, but you felt great. Your head was light and your eyes moved softly, none of it hurt nor ached. Even your jaw and teeth, which used to be sore every time you woke up, did not hurt at all. Seriously, you were smiling before you met your brother’s gaze.

"Good morning." His voice was low. Too low. Hank has gotten tired of asking how your night was and how you were feeling, so he always remained in silence as he unlocked your cage. Was it a good night or bad one? "Are you going to school today?" His tone was soft. So soft. Hank only spoke like this with students and fragile people. He wouldn't speak with you like that. Unless the night was terrible.

"Yes. " Your throat was dry and your voice was hoarse but you kept going. "Are you not?"

There were dark circles under his eyes and his hair was messier than usual. Hank walked away from you, pacing loudly and slowly around the room while his hands ran through his hair frantically. "I know about yesterday." You swore a hairball fell from his head. "I will talk with these girls and I—"

"Wow, Enid really deserves the 'gossip queen' title, doesn't she?" You walked over your closet. "It's alright, Han, we know this would happen sooner or later."

"No!" He retorted. "No, none of it is supposed to happen. I promised you that I would keep you safe and—"

"We are fucked up, Hank." You turned towards him with your clothes in your hands. "We are odd and devilish and there will always be these stupid people to bother us." Hank swallowed dryly because of your words, guilt heavily falling upon his shoulder. "And it's fine by me. I'm safe. I like Nevermore." You smiled at him. "Don't get involved, please. I can handle it." They would pay for it, you thought, but your kind smile did fool Hank. 

"Okay." He sighed. "Okay, go take a bath and brush your teeth. We're having coffee at the Weathervane."

X

“What is it?” You asked as Hank delivered you a hot mug. The liquid was light brown with a bit of cream on top of it — this was not your order. You're supposed to drink milk, pure milk, as you have done your whole life.

“Latte.” you snorted and pushed the mug away. “What?”

“Mama said I can’t have coffee.”

“Mama can rot in hell, Y/N.” His dark voice startled you. “Sorry. Look, she never wanted you to have coffee because you are more useful asleep. You were more useful.” You could see Hank scolding himself internally. “Try it. I’m sure you’re going to like it.” Hank winked and you said nothing. “It will help you to stay awake longer.” 

This argument was enough to make you grab the mug and drink it all at once. Your whole face turned red as some of the boiling liquid ran out of your lips.

“I burned myself.” You whined, painting and cleaning your mouth with your sleeve. 

“Of course you did.” Hank pulled your ear. “You moron.”

X

The morning went on without much problem. You could swear someone roared behind your back but, as always, your focus remained on the teacher speaking, not on your incredibly pleasant classmates. The Biology and Chemistry classes passed smoothly: you held your pen with one hand and your notebook with the other, writing diligently so as not to raise any worries from your teacher. But, your notes had nothing to do with the words on the black board — you were writing down all the items you needed for your plan, not caring much about the ionic bonds and mammals. 

Until the lunch break, you needed to gather, somehow, a ipecac leaf and find a plant dehydrator. You figured you might have luck if you took a trip to the greenhouse, even though your brother had forbidden you to go there. Well, the worst that could happen to you was another pull on your ear — so you decided: you would go to the greenhouse, you only needed to wait for the bell to ring again and then sneak out the class. 

You smiled to yourself and closed your notebook when a pair of eyes made your skin burn. You lifted your head and looked at the teacher. 

“Our next exam is going to be a pair research.” He said, probably not for the first time. “Are you comfortable with your pairing?” His eyes dropped to the figure sitting beside you. You followed the teacher’s gaze and — you held your breath instinctively — Wednesday Addams was staring at you this whole time. Why haven't you been left alone this time? You had been released from pair work from the very first day. And it was just a research paper, you saw the topic written on the board, you could do it all by yourself and— wait, why wasn't Wednesday blinking?

“Be careful what you wish for, Mr. Torres. The mad scientist and her little helper puppy can become the duo of your nightmares!” The class laughed because of that same shrill voice of yesterday. So…you supposed you were the puppy? 

What was this girl's obsession with calling you a dog? It was your brother who trained werewolves! 

“A mad scientist usually has a monster at their disposal.” A cold voice struck back and everyone turned to its owner. Of course Wednesday wouldn't keep it shut. “I can confirm it.”

Some students squealed and laughed at the expression of fear that made the shrill-voiced girl pale.

“Silence!” Mrs.Torres tried to regain control of the class.“Mrs. L/N?” You tried to look up at the teacher again, but everyone’s gaze was on you. The laughter did not stop and the whispers grew louder as Wednesday kept sitting gracefully by your side. She was all that: confident, scary and strong-minded — while you could not even force yourself to answer the teacher. An expectant silence dominated the room as the professor's eyes remained on you. “Are…you…comfortable…with…your…pairing?” He asked ridiculously slower, as if you had some kind of retardation or deafness. Now the entire class looked at you as if you indeed had it. Even Wednesday’s gaze got bewildered as your sweat started to drop on your desk. 

Of course I’m not comfortable, I am never comfortable with these purple-dressed teenagers around me.  

You tried to swallow the knot that came up in your throat, but the movement made you cough instantly. Your mouth and throat were so dry that a painful itch spread all over your neck and you weren’t able to breathe anymore. Your whole body was shaken by the coughing as you covered your lips and sprinted out the room. 

You heard loud laughs while you rushed down the hallway, looking for the nearest toilet with the air being violently expelled from your lungs. Your abdomen and chest were already shaking with spasms by the time you broke into the restroom and sank your head into the sink. You turned on the tap and drank the water in quick sips, guiding the water to your lips with your hands. 

Your face and vest were already soaked when the bell rang loudly through the whole school. Fuck. The lunch break. You lost the opportunity, you couldn't make it to the greenhouse. Your plan was ruined. No one was going to take revenge today. Perhaps it really was a dish that should be served cold.

“L/N.” Speaking in coldness, guess who followed you. Your cheeks were still wet as you turned to Wednesday. In fact, you didn't want to, but she keeps coming up beside you and you can't stop yourself from turning around. “You ruined my message.”

Oh, fuck you. And you ruined my plan, so we’re even. What about it?

You stomped over the door and tried to close it. 

“This is the female restroom.” She noted, her fist closed around the knob as your hand pushed the knob on the other side. You tried to slam the door one more time, but she held it open. “It is you who should leave.” So you did. You wriggled out of the doorway, without even touching Wednesday's uniform, and stepped back into the hallway. 

The hallway now full of students heading to the canteen, talking and laughing and walking together in these huge packs of purple people. Someone stepped on your foot as you tried to control your breathing. It didn’t even hurt, but you walked back in reflex and your back hitted someone. It hitted Wednesday. 

"Follow me." She said after unseaming the small crease you made in her skirt. 

She paced determinedly down the hall and you followed, soon reaching the quad full of students. Curiously, she stopped and stood at a distance from the tables and the water fountain. Silence filled the space between you and you found yourself obliged to analyze her face after explanations. Her eyes wandered precisely through the quad, following a moving-target as a twist took over her lips. A smirk?

A loud scream made you look away: and then you saw. Oh, what a beautiful image you saw! The shrill-voiced girl was screaming for her life in the middle of the courtyard. A dozen spiders emerged from her plate and were now crawling up her chest and face. None of her slaps and screams stopped the arachnids from stepping over her skin. Now, all eyes were on her and everyone within thirty feet could hear her screams for help. 

Your plan might have been ruined, but Wednesday’s plan was way more satisfying.

You laughed delightedly as the girl squirmed on the floor, a loud, husky laugh coming from your lips that made Wednesday's little smile grow. She watched you attentively as your eyes gleamed because of the scene in front of you.

You were having the time of your life before a voice emerged from behind.

“Y/N.” 

It was Hank. Fuck.

X

“You’re walking on thin ice with the principal, Wednesday.” Hank said from behind his desk, his hands sunk into the wood. “You've already been suspended once, and I’m not sure if you will get away with this little spider show of yours.” Hank stared down at her, who was sitting beside his brother with her typically straight posture. Her hands were on her lap and her knees were knit together, her chin up in defiance. And you were mirroring her posture without even noticing. Hank tried to not gasp at you as he went on. “What was that for, after all?”

“They’ve ruined our correspondence.” She told him coldly. “Now I’m late.”

It was a weird deal they had. Like, Wednesday would only go to Jericho with Hank or then driving his moto. They also shared these secret, encrypted notes in the meantime. Was it a mystery solving competition? And she was now late with the riddles? It sounded like something Hank would do to keep a friend out of trouble. He used to do it with you. 

"Bullshit. You avenged Y/N, didn’t you?” Wednesday shifted slightly on her seat because of Hank’s words. “We’ve talked about this, corbeau, you can’t keep righting wrongs around here.”

Corbeau? Was she a raven? A psychic? Is that why Hank always grits his teeth around her? His curse gets worse around psychics. 

“Then you should perform your function properly and take care of these miserable beings.” You looked at her with widened eyes. “They’re bothering your brother and you did nothing.” Why was she bothered about it? She doesn't even know you. 

“You exhaust me, Wednesday.” Hank sighed, with his slumped shoulders and slow hand gestures accepting the defeat. So…they were friends? Hank has never lost an argument so quickly. 

“Did you know about it, Y/N?” After almost an hour scolding the Addams, he finally turned to you. “Did you plan out this thing together?” 

You shook your head and Hank frowned. Yes, you answered, and you could feel Wednesday's eyes on you. 

You were lying, of course — you had no idea about what she intended to do nor why she did it — but you adored it and you wouldn’t let her be penalized alone.

“So it's decided!” Hank did not seem happy. “You two will assist the school clubs for the next two weeks.” It didn’t sound bad. “And apologize.” Now it sounded horrible.

Wednesday fought back again and their discussion restarted. You didn’t really pay attention to what they were saying — you knew your brother wouldn’t go back. So your fingers went down your jacket as well as your eyes, and you began to twist the buttons of your clothes as the discussion dragged on for another half hour. 

A thud then came from the door behind you and you noticed Hank was gone. In an impulsive movement, you grabbed a paper and a pencil from your brother’s desk as Wednesday headed to the door. 

She was already leaving when you held out the paper for her. Please, turn around, turn around and look at—

“I—” Your voice got stuck in your throat as your mind ran widely in thoughts. What are you supposed to say? Could you say anything to her? What if you got it all wrong and she still wanted to kill you? Did she want to kill you in the first place?

Thankfully, your stutter was enough to make her turn her face toward you and see the paper in your hand. This time, you delivered the message without being crushed or wet.

Your note only said:

'Thank you.'

Then you ran away.

Taglist: @i984 @toournextadventure @cursedchar @aroaceanxietylemon @tundra1029 @efectoangel @sweetaimu @colezb @tnnadia @elduster @rainbowsixreader

[icanbeyourgenie]

“ My sister got lost for seven hours in your fucking maze of a castle and no one looked for her?! You're her husband, that you like it or not, your duty is to protect her. Next time I won't be this merciful. ” – a mad Malachai to Aeron after learning Calypso got lost in the castle which prompt him to come

Aeron raised an eyebrow. He didn't expect the son of Triton to be there. Didn't he leave not long after the wedding? Aeron did not push the reasoning further. He didn't care much about a man he talked to maybe twice in his entire life. But he could see that the other prince was angry. Angry enough to confront him in an empty corridor with unsaid threats, when they all knew how fragile the peace between their two people were. Maybe Malachai didn't care, but war was a fate Aeron did want to avoid. However, if the fae had one passion in life, it was to push the buttons of angry people. And seeing the look on Malachai's face, he was about to have some fun.

“What are you talking about?” He was truly clueless there.

“Don't play me for a fool. I'm talking about your cousin 'accidentally' losing my little sister in this fucking maze of a palace for hours! If her maid didn't find her, she'd be dead by now.”

Aeron sneered. “If it's Euphemia you're talking about, it definitely wasn't an accident.”

“I know that. Which brings me back to my original point: You have a duty of care over her. It should not have happened.”

“What shouldn't have happened? Her needing the help of a maid not to die, or calling her big brother to the rescue like a little girl? Because I'd argue that both shouldn't have happened. But hey, who am I to judge the raising customs of merfolk, huh?”

Malachai's eyes got even redder if that was possible. He got closer to Aeron, clearly ready to strike. “Be very careful what you say next.” He warned.

“Besides, what do you want me to do about it? Put her on a leash? Oh wait-” He showed his wrist, where still lied Calypso's bracelet. “I already did.”

Malachai's fist ended up on Aeron's jaw faster than expected. Aeron laughed, and Malachai stroke again, and again, to wipe that smile off of the fae's face. It only intensified it but soon enough, Aeron started to fight back, and it got messy real quick.

They were already covered in blood when Malachai started to shake the ground to unsettle Aeron, who immediately fell on his back, giving Malachai the opportunity to get on top of him to keep hitting him. Aeron knew each one of Triton's kids were granted a power, but apart from Calypso's, he had no clue what the others were. Until today.

He used the fairy dust to animate a statue that was resting next to the wall, making it drag Malachai back just enough so Aeron could get back on his feet again. He stroke again, and noticed that for now, as heavily armed as they both were, none of them drew an actual weapon. Good, maybe Malachai did care about not starting a war after all.

“What is the meaning of this?”

This question came from the only person who could actually scare Aeron into giving up a fight. Fortunately, it stopped Malachai too. Of course it did, Aeron thought. Malachai probably had the same experience with Triton. After all, when your parent was the most powerful person alive, you learned to obey real quick.

So they were both on their feet, facing Morgana with their back straight, like they were just having a conversation and weren't covered in blood at all.

“Nothing, your Majesty.” Malachai spoke first. “We were just...”

“Settling a minor disagreement. It's over now.” Aeron finished.

“Good. Because my corridor is no place for a fight. If you boys have some extra energy to spend, we have actual training fields for it. Am I making myself clear?”

The Sceptre glowed a little - a bad sign - and they both nodded. It seemed to appease Morgana, but Aeron knew she hid her true feelings like no one.

“Now, Malachai, I believe you have just returned to us from the Sea. You must be tired from the journey. I had the servants prepare your room.”

“This is very kind of you, your Majesty.” He answered like a proper prince.

“Aeron, you're coming with me. We have things to discuss.”

When she walked ahead, Aeron had to follow her. He only turned around to see Malachai still fuming. He almost laughed. He didn't pay much attention to the heir of Triton before, outside of when he tried to gather informations, but maybe he should have. If the prince Malachai often displayed this temper, Aeron would definitely enjoy his company.

[swordalt]

Hm hi so, regarding this wilbur situation I believe that the best thing to do is to distance yourself from the Internet a little during this period. People are unlikely to act with reason, and they hardly see content creators as real people, it's all a spectacle that they use to have fun, get followers and engagement. Many people use serious agendas and a false superior morality to get engagement, like "stop following this person or I will stop following you"

Regarding ccs, a lot of things on the Internet are fake, and most friendships are too. I remember a Brazilian creator called Ismeiow who says that she can count on one hand the people she met on the Internet that she can actually count, and that the rest are just colleagues and that is the reality of the Internet. Firstly, it's their job, they work with their image and they don't want to lose their source of income because they are friends with a person that everyone hates, or sometimes they will get closer to someone that everyone likes because that way they will have more engagement, and that's why friendships on the Internet are extremely fragile, and true friendships the public will rarely see

About Shelby, as I am a healthcare professional I don't doubt that what she said is really true, I understand where your frustration comes from, this is the third time this year that something like this has happened, this type of abuse is difficult to overcome and talk about it and if there is evidence, it is best to take it to court rather than show it on the Internet. I see ccs leaving Wilbur as maybe they never liked him because of certain attitudes but as he was famous and everyone liked him, no one was going to say bad things about him so as not to affect their own image

And I wish none of this had happened because honestly it's so tiring, the best I could do was distance myself from this medium of content creators. But well, take care of yourself in these moments!

See while I was originally agree that any evidence should be taken to the court the fact that is she already brought it to the internet, the Internet is his entire career he relies on it for income.(yes even Lovejoy relies on the internet since fans shared his music.)

if she was just to like bring it to court from the beginning then I could say yeah take the evidence to court but it's not a personal thing anymore it's a public thing.

Which I still don't understand why she even bought this to the public because it just makes things messy.

I don't doubt he bit her, he even admitted to it, the line between whether he was in fact abusing her is consent.

I'm just saying any amount of evidence would help her case, leave no space for doubt.

The same goes for Wilbur, but he's on the "I'm respecting her privacy" train. Like I don't know how you can say that when the entirety of Twitter is calling you a domestic abusers but I digresse

And yes this thing with friends, you find a lot of their online friends might just be work associates despite how parasoical we are about them.

they might not even like each other, so the whole; "young creators are talking out against him" means nothing to me.

In the terms of distancing myself, you don't worry too much about me, my ask will be turn off soon today and I'll go back to regularly schedule program.

I'm mostly just allowing myself and others the freedom to vent and discuss their thoughts.

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary165

2/26-27/2024

monday - tuesday

work 2morrowwwwwww.

and right now i am just exporting a song i've been mixing today again, it was a problem song a while ago, now it's a lot better i think but it's still kind of like, missing something, idk. right guitar feels a touch weird i guess. or i guess both are, rn, idk idk idk. what i need/want is the sharpness to come through again.

otherwise, today, not much. i'm going to play videogames again after wednesday, or maybe after my bank appointment on wednesday. i don't want to do it too much/at all really. it's better to just read or work on music but it helps me relax, i guess, i like collecting items and wandering around. i will tire myself out probably pretty soon and then i'll at least have my muscle memory back/better.

i was thinking about this thing today, some book about cute accelerationism, my friend was talking about it and that book really irritates my gf, she had a podcast briefly and she was going to talk about cuteness in a manifesto, it was part of her podcast, i wanted to write a bit for it, but it never came to, since she had more important things to do other than engage in twitter pop-theory, basically.

but i was thinking about it today, and what i wanted to write, and i guess what i feel like the book could get wrong. i should read it to know/form a better critique, but to me cuteness forms no coherent accelerationism, and i am too tired to articulate everything here entirely but the way i imagined it before, as an anti-vitalism when you look at kawaii cutlure and what it responds to, and then now thinking of the tiqqun reading i've been doing in cybernetic hypothesis, in the desire to be doll-like in say lolita fashion, gothic lolita, the cuteness of certain sorts of illustration, or even that kawaii culture at points engages with the grotesque, and doll art/dolls as popular things in kawaii culture and as an art / object of pop art emerges from hans bellmer, there is a lot here that makes it about nonresponsiveness, i feel it's stemming from a desire towards what kristeva called the carnivalesque, and the abject. i guess necessarily, for me, it's about not just engaging w/ cuteness as it's found in anime, but how people have desired cuteness and how it develops now, what it articulates and what desires it allows one to enjoy perversely, and then that it allows one to cease communication, to become a doll, in a way, to desire passivity in an excessive way. even desiring cuteness in america, the turn on websites like this and others, to urge people towards eating disorders, to travel towards needing nothing of the outside world, as baudrillard described anorexia, an interior furnishing, self defense, and also the sense that it is fragile and constantly being lost, your cuteness, your youth. it's a complex thing, i guess, it's a nightmare full of so many desires/needs. i need to be cute, speaking on myself, really, i do, if i feel ugly, and uncute, i want to die, literally, when i do feel cute, i feel like i am able to take refuge in myself, to disengage with the world, or the parts that are hideous, i am overflowing and discommunicative, i am gnashing teeth and i am huge eyes, pleasure in not moving, wanting to be looked at and not seen, wanting to be unseen but needing to be looked at.

i write about this kind of thing constantly, basically, this specific set of needs, it's important to articulate because i feel like nobody else is, instead they approach it from an angle that says cuteness is some kind of, i'm not sure, i don't know what it is to them. but it's i guess not a coherent thing, is the sense i get, it's just 'something' it's not got history. to observe, i've seen people invoke bataille to discuss cuteness, it always leaves me feeling they understand neither, it is easy to articulate through him cuteness, on some level, the sacrificial aspects, and via bellmer, the erotic aspects which some may imagine do not exist, but they are there, at a certain level, they are unavoidable. but i'd rather use the energy i want to put into complaining into spitballing fiction, so i will go do that.

this is good, i wrote kind of a lot today, because outside of this i made sure to get some other ideas down.

re-exporting this song again.

i wonder if sometimes i am too precious, about ideas i have that i feel like i use in fiction/writing i care more about, sometimes i worry articulating them will make them less interesting to me or something, i don't think it's the case, there's always new nuances to discover/observe, i think. so it's kind of like, weird how i am i guess. but i also don't want to make it like, plainly/painfully academic. these are ideas that feel connected to life as it is lived, stories feel like the best place for them / to illustrate the kinds of state i think of/in/desire/worry about.

alright... i think the song is good now. that's so exciting. 2 done todayyyyyyyyyyyyyayayay.

i've just been kind of manically going thru random songs, listening to this and then i think i need to sleep:

such a perfect perfect perfect song. these guys did a song for the nmh 2 ost, not the big one, philistine, but the one for the astronaut boss, iirc. they're so cool to me, otaku j-pop, weird guys on vocals. i think i've talked abt them here before, but they're just so interesting to me and nobody else seems to give any kind of a fuck abt them.

i should do a margaret moonlight cosplay . one day . i mean, i don't think i really could but it's a nice fantasy/thought. she was also a character from a video game that i thought was way cool in an aspirational way (the list of people/characters who make up my 'whoa... you can be like that?' thing (the early development of '#goals' for me) is so funny, ranging from models/eventual models to singers to actors (paz de la huerta was a first crush but also i liked how she seemed to embrace some kind of being fucked up, her over-red lipstick is kind of incredible to me) to video game characters, to anime, ofc (obviously, w/ things like funeral parade of roses and moments in fiction, i still get these pangs now, of identification, or like, people/characters that elucidate some part of being)).

perfect outfit tbh. or i guess kinda. maybe the panty(ish? (idk, are those shorts (it's still kind of a lot)))-shot is too much but idk. i could rock that i guess. really anything that looks like that is so perfect to me idk. i suppose it's obvious but gothic lolita stuff somehow made kinda sleek is a genius idea.

now i am listening to philistine... messed up for real.

that song is also in a lot of funny ways a big influence on me, the gaudy synths, always wanting guitars beside gaudy synths, i also really like the kinds of melodies that song employs, both versions of it, and the american version having that fucked up ugly square wave bass is so perfect, another huge hit on my soul, when i first heard it.

i need to get a huge headband like that soon, with my #work money. it will be so swaggy tbh.

in order to escape the gamer accusations i'm gonna post this song:

it's just so good, another perfect kind of song. i know i've talked about the blood brothers a ton but i love how jordan screams so much, he's a genius of screeching, the way he must let his tongue hang out or something to get some of that sloppiness in delivery, it's hard to get that, but it's really worth it, when you do need that.

here's a crazy thing i'm noticing, is that the orange amps cody uses, the orange amp simulator in guitar rig 6 is honestly not the worst you can do w/ getting that sound, i do always hear guitars as having higher freqs than they really do, it's interesting to hear it soloed here and how rolled off and strange the sound is, or it feels strange, it's almost like, if i got that sound, i think i'd like, go 'oh it could be sharper', but it's so perfect here. maybe i can internalize that and get something out of it, maybe, i hope.

anyway i have to sleep now so,

byebye!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[slimeywooper]

Labmas AU - Unintended Consequences

Chapter 13 Part 2 - Visit

CW: a curse word early on

There's a distant ringing in your ears. Opening an eye, you peek at your nightstand, where your phone is going off. Pushing the covers aside, you begrudgingly get out of bed to see who it is. Adjusting your gaze to the screen, you see it's Colress calling you. Of course it is, who else would it be? It's not even 5:10 a.m. and he's trying to contact you. Answering the call, you wearily say, "Hello?"

"Are you up? You sound like you're still half asleep," he comments.

Too tired to think up a decent rebuttal, you answer, "Well, that's because I am. I usually don't get up until—"

"There's no time! Those idiots from Gear Station are on their way here now! They just called me." Is this supposed to mean something to you? Wracking your brain about where you may have heard 'Gear Station' from, Colress snaps from your lack of comprehension, exclaiming, "The horrible twins I made Noku from, remember?"

"Oh, right. What do they want?" you ask with a disinterested tone.

"I'll explain later! Just get down here!" Beginning to rant to himself, Colress goes off, "Why did they have to come today? Are they trying to make it a 'thing?' It's just going to set him off. I can't deal with this shit. There's so much work to be done…"

It doesn't sound like he's going to stop anytime soon, so you tell him, "Yeah, I'll be there in a minute," before hanging up. Being awoken this early is never a good omen, and with how poorly the last two days have gone, you aren't filled with much hope for today. Even after getting a more than usual amount of sleep, you still feel sluggish. Perhaps you are becoming depressed from all the chaos that has been happening. As quickly as you are able, you prepare for the day, putting on your newly cleaned lab coat last, and going downstairs. Colress is pacing by the elevator that leads to the laboratory, clearly agitated.

Noticing you shamble towards him, he looks up and announces, "Finally! What took you so long? Come on, we have to intercept them. I don't want them attempting to meander around the laboratory."

Suppressing a yawn, you comment, "Don't you need a key card to get most anywhere in the lab?"

He stops his pacing and faces you, giving a stern admonishment, "Not now! Don't get smart with me!"

"What exactly do they want?" you repeat the question from earlier, much too exhausted to care about his ill temper.

"I can only presume they are here to give me a report. I've told them they need to give prior notification before showing up, not calling me right before they get here. I'm tired of them thinking they own the place and coming any time they want. It's Team Plasma that helps them keep that stupid station running." He repeatedly presses the elevator call button, as if attempting to make it arrive faster.

Unsure of why you are heading downstairs instead of waiting for them to arrive, you suggest, "Shouldn't we wait at the Plasma headquarters entrance?"

Colress answers with an air of irritation, "They take a personal tram to get here. It connects directly from Gear Station to the laboratory's reception room. We can't have anyone knowing they are helping Team Plasma. It wouldn't look good for either side." The elevator doors open and he grabs your wrist, pulling you in.

"Ow, okay, I'm coming." You wince from the pressure of his grip. After the doors close, he releases you. There is still a question of what the Subway Bosses are helping Team Plasma with, but Colress seems to already be in such a fragile mental state, you don't want to push him by asking for more information.

As you tend to your throbbing wrist, he enlightens you on what actions the two of you are going to take, "Here's the game plan: we're going to greet Ingo and Emmet, then you're going to go downstairs and retrieve Nobori and Kudari. As much as I abhor this, if Kudari doesn't get to see them, he will be inconsolable. He's hard enough to control as it is, I don't even want to think of the tantrums that will result if I deny him this. I'm going to try to get the Subway Bosses out of here as quickly as possible." The doors open, and you both step out to see two waiting figures.

Seeing the twin Subway Bosses, you wondered how you ever thought Colress was potentially the human DNA half of the hybrids. Though to be fair, that's all you thought it was, donor DNA, not cloning. Ingo and Emmet are the spitting images of Nobori and Kudari. Or rather, the other way around. They are wearing long, matching coats, one in black, and the other in white. The stylized conductor's caps that adorned their heads cover their hair, but they have the same sideburns as the hybrids. You don't know which is which, but the one in the black coat with the scowl has to be the twin that Nobori was cloned from.

Colress isn't bothering to try to sound welcoming when he addresses them, "Hello, Ingo and Emmet. What prompted you to grace us with your presence today?"

The one wearing black answers him, "We're here with our progress report. We felt because it has been a few years since we came in person, it would be appropriate for us to do so. Only to make sure we are on the same page, of course."

"Of course," Colress parrots back.

Turning to you, the black clad twin introduces himself, "How do you do? I'm the Subway Boss, Ingo. The Single line is my responsibility, and this here is my brother, Emmet. He manages the Double line."

"I am Emmet," is the response from the smiling twin dressed in white.

This small introduction only compounds the confusion, as you aren't sure what Single or Double lines are, but since it's a subway, it must have something to do with the trains. Colress doesn't let you introduce yourself, instead doing it for you, "This is my new assistant, (Y/N)."

"Another assistant? You had a different one the last time we came," Ingo glances to Emmet before looking to Colress in surprise.

Emmet adds, "You go through them quickly," his smile not faltering.

Colress attempts to defend himself, "Yes, the one you met the last time you were here, retired. Then, the one before (Y/N), had an… accident. (Y/N) was kind enough to offer to help us in the laboratory."

"One can never be too cautious. All safety checks should be conducted regularly," is Ingo's advice. Emmet nods in agreement.

There's a flash of anger on Colress' face. It was only visible for a second before being snuffed out, returning his expression to its neutral state. "That's why I was having Kudari stay in his room. Only in the past few days has he been let out. But, that's none of your concern. Don't tell me how to run my laboratory," he ends with a threatening tone.

Ingo looks taken aback and apologizes, "Very sorry, we did not mean to overstep our bounds."

Looking around, Emmet blurts out, "Where are our hybrids?"

"My hybrids, your clones," Colress corrects him. Turning to you, he asks through clenched teeth, "Well, (Y/N), would you be so kind as to retrieve Noku? Bring them to the rightmost planning room. We'll be waiting there."

"Absolutely! I'll be right back!" you say enthusiastically. Giving a look to Ingo and Emmet to excuse yourself, you scan your name badge at the door and enter the laboratory. While taking the elevator down, you consider the different ways this meeting can go. Hopefully, it will be a short 'hello' before getting to work. The longer the Subway Bosses are here, the higher the likelihood Colress is to become even more irritated. Though they seemed very polite so far, you could see cracks forming in Colress' veneer from being in their presence. The more upset he becomes, the greater the probability he will hyper focus on anything Kudari does, searching for a mistake. After the doors open, you walk to Nobori's door, knocking and informing him of your reason for being there, "Hey Nobori, I've been sent by Colress to bring you and Kudari upstairs. Ingo and Emmet are here to see you."

He answers the door wearing a robe, asking, "They're here now?"

You look to the floor, not wanting to stare at him. "Uh… yeah. Sorry to interrupt you."

Shaking his head, he assures you, "It's fine, I just got out of the shower. Anyway, we'll have to get Kudari quickly. I'm sure he can smell them. It's not good to keep him waiting. Sometimes, when he gets antsy, he—"

"Bangs on his door?" you interject, face still red from the state Nobori is in.

"Exactly. Just give me a moment to get dressed, then we can bring him with us." You nod, which signals him to close the door and get ready. Turning around and taking a step forward to wait, a few minutes pass before you hear Nobori exit his room. Coming to your side, he's wearing his usual attire, sans makeup. You both begin the walk to Kudari's room.

"Have Ingo and Emmet already seen how you look?" you ask. "Sorry, that was a terrible way to put it. You're not wearing your makeup, so I was just wondering…"

"Hm? Oh, yes. They've been visiting us since we were children. Well, not us specifically. But when they come for business, they always say 'hello.' Our nature is no secret to them," he answers, walking with his arms held behind his back.

[hopelesswritergall]

how about some yandere Peter mothatuckin Ballard?

The lab

Summary: A regular day for you and your slightly manipulative boyfriend. You are an orderly here.

A/N: Thank you so much! It was really fun to write and although it is a bit short i hope you like it. I'm still new to writing yandere and writing in general, so feedback is welcome. Reblogs appreciated. Should i use Peter Ballard or Henry Creel as his name for future fics?

Italics is just your thoughts.

The moment you stepped though the door, there was going to be no way back. Although, you did not know this yet. Thinking it would be just like a normal job. You were wrong on that. Never would you have imagined that you would look after kids with some kind of superpowers. You couldn't leave the lab for more than 15 minutes, just enough for some fresh air and to pick some flowers. These breaks led to your daily flower pick moments. No surpise then that this place led to your guys meeting each other.

"Have i seen you before?'' You looked up from the grass to see a young man standing there. Wow, he was handsome. "I don't think so, I have only arrived here a few days ago and just started to settle in." You answered. "Well allow me to introduce myself then, my name is Peter." He held out his hand. "Y/N." I took his hand and got up from the grass. "Very weird question Peter, but do you know what time it is? I asked. "Quarter past 12, why?" As his mind began to work he realized the break times. "Ah, you started at 12 I suppose?" "Mhm, now it was lovely to talk to you and I hope to you soon!" You quickly cleaned your outfit of all the grass and hurried back inside. Peter couldn't help but to smile at your antics.

"Eleven?" you called out while you entered the rainbow room. You didn't have to wait long for her to respond. Well not a verbal response but more a run into your legs at full speed response. "Wow, slow down. I'm not leaving" You joked as she slowly started to loosen her grip on you. You have only been here for a few days but you bonded so quickly with Eleven that it felt like you have known her your entire life. "What you want to do? Draw, chess or maybe the toy cars?" you asked her. "Draw please."She mumbled. "Well then off we go!"

This is how it went for a couple months. Wake up, watching over kids, break time with Peter, watching over kids, dinner, shower and go to sleep. Everything seemed normal to you. Not to Peter. Over the months he slowly started to fall for you, he felt the need to protect you. Like you were fragile, a doll. He watched out for you in multiple aspects. He helped you witch hiding flowers if you brought some for the children, he kept track of the time when you where out, he made sure you always had food if you were sick and he protected you if the other orderly people made some remarks towards you. You did not know the last point, but that was alright with him. He knew that you would appreciatie it. With the Soteria in his neck he couldn't use his powers but he still had his mind games and damn were they successful. Not only towards you but also towards everyone else. He was head over heels for you, maybe just a bit too much...

You started to notice his protective services when you noticed Mark( another orderly) started to keep his distance from you when you were both working in the same room. "Mark?"you called out. "Are you alright?" He quickly started nodding saying that nothing was wrong. You just found it peculiar, in the last week you've chatted a lot with him. Peter entered the room about 20 minutes later. "Mark, Brenner asked for you." He stared at Mark until he was gone. "You alright Y/N?" He asked as soon as he saw your eyes becoming a bit red. "Not really, Mark has been avoiding our conversations today. "Strange, i'll talk to him Y/N don't worry." He said while holding you to his chest so you could relax. Head on his shoulder you didn't see the glimmer in his eyes when he said talk to him. If you had noticed maybe Mark wouldn't have died due to unknown reasons.

[oh-holy-slut]

Bloodlust

Pairing: Damon Salvatore x fem!reader

Warnings: smut, explicit language, blood sharing, mentions of death, oral sex

Word Count: 2,6k

Summary: Stefan forced Damon to try his animal diet. Damon hated it, but didn't had a choice... until Reader makes a suggestion. Suddenly things get steamy.

Being with Damon was complicated. Him and Y/N have seen each other a lot in the past weeks. The two of them had a lot of fun; saw a lot of movies. Actually, Y/N was sure Damon secretly hated many of those. However, anytime Y/N suggested another dramatic, romantic cliché movie like "Last Song" - the vampire groaned, put his arm around her shoulder, let her head rest on his chest and endured every single second of the movie of her choice.

Damon even flirted and teased Y/N here and there, but didn't lead to anything more intimate so far.

Today was another of those days. Y/N stuck around at the Salvatore boarding house, brought a few of Damon's favorite groceries and a bunch of movies, of which she thought that they will suit his taste. Even if they were a little to bloody and brutal in her opinion.

"Pick one!", she demanded, holding all three Blu-ray sleeves in front of him. Damon just shrugged, not bothering to even look.

"Don't be a killjoy, Damon Salvatore!" Y/N sighed.

"Tell me what's wrong or pick a movie. You've got no choice. And besides that... Which number of drink is this?" Y/N frowned, pointing at the liquor in her friends hand. Damon usually consumed his beloved bourbon with pleasure.

But the man on the couch didn't seem pleasured at all. His facial features totally hardened and a look in his eyes like he was ready to rip someone's heart out.

You put the disc's back in your handbag, closing the zipper and put the bag on the floor.

"Fine. No movie night today. Who are we going to kill?"

A small smirk appeared on Damon's lips, finally looking towards Y/N.

"Stefan and his hero hair. He made me go vegetarian... well, for a vampire... and I can't get myself to eat one of those chipmunks, bunnies or bambis." He shook himself with disgust.

"And why did he count you in? You clearly aren't excited about the changing... So, why did you agree?"

"He said, he would kill me, which is kinda funny. But-" Damon made a wide gesture "he stole my daylight ring. And he wouldn't give it back until I stop feeding on innocent people - and kill them."

"So, you truly let your younger brother blackmail you like that?! Wow... I don't know how to feel about your dieting or your new path. Or whatever this is supposed to be."

"You don't like me killing people either", Damon maintained, while taking another sip of bourbon.

"Well, I don't", Y/N agreed, took a step forward, stole the glass from the vampires hand and put it on a small table nearby. "But I don't believe in forcing as a method to get people to change their minds. I believe that change for the better must be an intrinsic motivation," she added quickly, giving the vampire an innocent smile.

Damon's lineaments suddenly turned from annoyed to curious. "Any suggestions, little one?" The vampire raised an eyebrow and a little smirk showed up on his lips. On the one hand, Y/N blushed over the nickname, Damon called her.  On the other hand she felt skittish looking forward to making a deal with him. Not only a deal. It's far more than a simple agreement.

It's Y/N, actually giving Damon a part of her. The red elixir of life. She was about to give him total control of her body and she not even for a heartbeat doubt that Damon will use it against her.

"Actually... Yeah. There's something on my mind." Y/N said chewing on your lip. "I could open up a vein for you. I mean, you could feed on me. And since you have my permission, there's nothing for anybody to have objection about."

Damon frowned and gave her an incredulous look. "You would do that for me?" The vampire couldn't believe, he understood correctly. Why would Y/N want to get involved with him feeding on her? What's in it for her? Damon tried hard to connect the dots, but he wasn't able to. It all seemed to make no sense. Y/N wouldn't have an advantage of that. The vampire hesitated, pinning his dangerously blue eyes on the girl in front of him.

"Is it so suspicious of me, that I'm trying to help my closest friend?" It pierced Y/N's heart, realizing, Damon's trust in her was rather fragile. "Never mind", she waved the pain away and forced herself to keep her composure. "I only had a hasty idea; you really don't need to fee-"

Suddenly Damon appeared behind Y/N, using his vampirism. "Shhhh", he whispered softly. "I never said, that I don't want your blood. I'm thinking about if we are going to cross a line? Blood sharing can be very personal..."

"It can be? It is personal already. Believe it or not - I'm not gonna offer my veins to all the vampires of Mystic Falls." Y/N rolled her eyes, her arms folded on her chest to point out the indignation she felt right now.

"Kinda sensitive today, huh?" Damon gently stroke a strand of hair behind her ear, Y/N could hear this smug smirk through his words. It was a true 'Damon thing' to do. "I didn't mean it like that, princess." He sighed; unsure if he should agree or not. Damon didn't want to act selfish towards Y/N. He compelled a lot of girls for the purpose of drinking blood in the past. He literally used them as long as they weren't too annoying - and then he acted like they have never met. Damon Salvatore couldn't imagine this scenario with Y/N. They've been so close, the vampire couldn't stand loosing her. The offer was risky, but it also could bring each other even closer.

Damon tried hard to avoid any serious attraction between Y/N and him, afraid of messing up. Indeed, he found himself thinking, and even dreaming, about Y/N more than he wanted to admit. She was smart and had this special sense of humor, the vampire adored so much. She was the only one, who could make him feel good no matter what. Needless to say she had that glimmer in her eyes, when she did something she truly loved. In these moments she was even more pretty. Y/N was hard to resist.

And maybe now he could have her like nobody else. At least the vampire gave in. He wanted her blood. He wanted her.

Y/N flinched by the feeling of Damon brushing her neck with his lips.  "Oh, Damon", she gasped. "Bite me." Y/N almost begged for the vampire's teeth breaking through her skin. Damon loved the sound of her husky voice. In less than a heartbeat he turned into his vampire shape. "If you insist", he grinned devilishly, ready to place his teeth on to her skin.

Suddenly Y/N made a slight move forward with the intention to interrupt her friend. "Did you change your mind?" Damon was close to switching back to human, overwhelmed by a mix of emotions. Mostly a lack of understanding, but also a little of disappointment and even anger. Was Y/N playing games on him? While Damon Salvatore was sorting feelings, Y/N turned around, standing now in front of him.

She was so close, not even a piece of paper would fit between them.

Y/N slightly exhaled breath, her eyes darting between the vampires eyes and lips. It was the first time Y/N saw him like this. The icy blue of his eyes, she loved so much, has turned darker. Purple veins appeared under his eyes; Y/N couldn't help herself. Damon's appearance fully intoxicated every fibre of her being. Her fingertips found their way gently brushing over his dark purple veins. She felt heat and softness, while tracing one of them.  It took her a few seconds to get out of trance, realizing what she had done. "Sorry", she murmured with a voice barely audible. "Don't apologize, little one." Damon tilted his head, his lips curled up in a self-assured grin, exposing a perfectly white vampire fang. "I never saw you like this before, you loo-"

"... look like a monster?"

Y/N shook her head. It was nothing like that. Yes, he did look unfamiliar. And she should be scared under normal conditions. Instead, his look hit her in an unexpected way. He looked hotter as a vampire, if it was even possible. 

Y/N cleared her throat, looking up at Damon. "I feel... attracted to you."

"So nothing's changed", Damon teased, raising his eyebrows. The girl in front of him softly slapped him on his shoulder; which was only possible because the vampire permitted. "You are always so full of yourself." She smirked, feeling more confident being to something, they have had been so many times before. Granted, he was terrifying accurate, but she wouldn't serve her feelings on a silver platter.

"I'm still into it. You can bite me; feed on me. I only needed to see you before..." 

A shockwave of electricity flowed through her body the second Damon took her hand and pulled her close.

"I'll be careful", he promised, nuzzling his head into the nap of her neck. Damon once again placed his lips on her soft skin. 

Suddenly a harsh pain made Y/N feel like in a kind of haze. She flinched and let out a groan at the same time, unintentionally biting her lower lip. 

During Damon embedded his fang deeper and deeper, she started feeling dizzy. Her hands searched for the vampires upper body, finally wrapped around his neck. She needed him to lean on. A narrow trickle of blood flowed down her neck. Let Damon feed on her felt like flames licking up every fiber of her body. 

With every passing second Y/N could feel her control slip away. Her body was now firmly pressed against Damon's, like she would want to merge them into one.

Damon noticed her staggering, wrapped his arms around her waist, supporting her.

Bloodlust already messed up the vampires mind, so he continued feeding on Y/N.

A tempting moan escaped her lips, but she didn't care to cover up. Y/N's heart was racing, her eyes flattering. It was almost as if he was about to push her over the edge, but in a different way. "Mmm, this...this… feels soo weird... and so good...", she whispered under a shallow breath.

As soon as Damon heard her fading voice, he abruptly

quitted drinking from her.

"Fuck!" He rapidly laid her on his lap and checked Y/N's vital signs, to make sure she was okay. Instinctively he bit his wrist, pressed it against Y/N's mouth. He knew his blood would heal her, but it wasn't going fast enough. A few seconds passed through, to him they felt like centuries. Y/N finally blinked and Damon was relieved. He cupped her cheeks, his gaze never leaving hers. "I thought, I'd gone-" Damon cleaned his throat. "I'm so glad, you are doing well", he whispered, while trailing her lips with his fingertips. "So, fuckin' glad..." The vampire exhaled a deep breath. 

"It... You made me feel good. Strange, but good", Y/N appeased and flushed over the memory. "Maybe you got a little carried away, but I don't mind. I wouldn't trade the feeling for anything."

Y/N quickly interrupted herself, before she could reveal too much.

However, Damon used his vampire skills, noticing that Y/N was hiding something from him. "Isn't there anything else you want me to know?", Damon asked without taking his eyes off her. Y/N shifted and flushed even more. "It's unfair. You use your vampirism to get everything out of me."

"Well, if that were the case, I could easily compel you." Damon shrugged and found back to his smugly self. "Tell me, what you are hiding". He said in a seductive voice.

"I wanted to get lost in you."

Her confession sent shivers all over the vampires body. At first he could not decide, how to handle this. "Are you sure that's what you want? I could really hurt you..." Y/N hummed.

In the next split second, Damon pinned Y/N against a wall, smashing his lips on hers, kissing her with all the passion he had to give. The vampire devoured Y/N with a new kind of hunger. He didn't know he could crave someone so much.

"Fuck me, Damon..."

The vampire felt him getting hard, only by hearing those little three words out of her mouth.

"Say it louder. Tell me, what you want me to do."

Y/N pulled him closer, gently biting his earlobe.

"Fuck... me, Damon." It took her a second to focus and forming the words again. After she was near to climax earlier, it wasn't a long way getting to the edge once more. "Make me cum... You almost had me there..."

A deep moan got over the vampires lips, once he understood, what Y/N was trying to tell him.

With the next blink Y/N found herself in Damon's bedroom, lying on his bed.

From now on there weren't many words needed. Damon's hand's found their way under her shirt, cupping her breasts and make her moan over and over again.

He closely listened to the rhythm of her heart, making sure he would be able to delay her climax to the point he needed her to.

"Don't cum yet... I want to taste your little pussy first."

Y/N grabbed the vampires head, running her fingers through his dark hair - pushing him down, since she was unable to form a single word.

As Damon got down, he didn't take his eyes off Y/N.

He used a hand pushing up her skirt and lightly stroking over her panties with his fingertips.

"My girl is so wet", he praised in a low husky voice."-and I barely touched you."

His dirty words in combination with his touch lead to another moan, almost turned into a scream.

Damon pushed the fabric aside, leaving sloppy kisses on the inside of her thighs.

Y/N's eyes fluttered, when his soft lips reached her middle.

Damon's tongue licking around her entrance was driving her nuts.

"...so delicious..." were the only words she was able to catch up. Damon knew, he couldn't thrill her forever, so he got back to her. He spit on his palms, stroking his hand over his crotch. In under a second Y/N finally felt this releasing pressure of his cock. It was like a switch went off in her brain and she braced herself for the hard thrusts that would follow.

Damon dimmed the whining noises Y/N made with a passionate, hungry kiss.

He cheated with his vampirism to give it to her deeper and faster, knocking out all the air of her lungs while Y/N screamed out Damon's name. Her walls clenched around him and made him twitch. It was like her pussy massaged his dick the best way possible.

Every time he hit her harder and rougher he was making sure he hit her spot with every thrust.

Damon gathered speed one last time and pushed her over the edge until she was a moaning whimpering mess.

With her last contraction around his shaft, Damon was cumming inside her.

"You are so tight, little one", he whispered under his breath. "We should make arrangements more often."

Please like or/and reblog if you enjoyed reading or/and want me to write more stories about Damon.

Thanks guys ❤️

[heliads]

CONGRATS ON TWO YEARS *loud cheering from hundreds of fans*

Okay, so in honour of this I'm sending in a drabble idea. I know you don't like Damon that much from TVD (and you by no means have to write this if you don't want to) but today I was listening to my playlist and Taylor Swift's 'Haunted' started playing, and all I could think of was a Damon Salvatore x reader based on the song. It could be from Damon's perspective where the reader dies and he's like "come on come on don't leave me like this" and it's just filled with angst and memories and utter PAIN and how he deals with it. Or if you don't want that kind of suffering it could be about a breakup or something else! There can be fluff in there if you want, it's up to you but anyway, congrats again! ily and I'm sending hugs!

loving the hundreds of fans (and you and damon)

masterlist

Damon Salvatore was alone when he first heard that she was dead. He only found out through an impersonal phone call, the news read out in the same bland voice as if he were hearing about tax returns or changes in the recycling schedule, not something that could actually rend his world apart.

He was alone, and he picked up the phone without knowing who he’d be when he put it down. Y/N is dead, says the voice. Y/N L/N was killed on the outskirts of Mystic Falls. We don’t know who did it. And that was that.

You and I walk a fragile line

I have known it all this time

But I never thought I'd live to see it break

Damon is no stranger to dead bodies. Heaven knows he’s caused his fair share, but this one is different. Even though he’s long since passed over his aversion to blood, and only makes faces over gristly corpses in the hopes of getting Stefan or Caroline to react again, seeing Y/N lying there, still as bone, made him shudder from head to toe. 

It was unnatural. Perhaps that’s what had gotten to him. It was Y/N, in a way, and it was also not her at all. Damon doesn’t remember how he reacted at first, but apparently he looked like he might be inches from death, too, when the plain cloth was first pulled away from her face. Supposedly, he practically bit his wrist off trying to get his blood into her system, hoping against hope that it would work and she could still be alive. It didn’t, and his scars healed soon enough even if hers did not. 

It's getting dark and it's all too quiet

And I can't trust anything now

Damon was alone when he found out that Y/N was dead, and he is alone now too. He’s become a recluse, even more than usual. Death doesn’t affect him, it never has. When things seem as if they’ll hurt a little too much, Damon can flick off his humanity like he’s knocking over a house of cards, so much hard work gone in a moment. He doesn’t have to feel a thing, and it is perfect. 

Damon does not turn off his humanity when Y/N dies. Perhaps it’s because he already feels so numb that there’s no point in going to the trouble of turning it off anyways; he’s already there, already nothing. He tries, certainly, when the sun disappears beneath the horizon and a thousand thoughts hit him hard, but he never quite manages it. 

Oh, I'm holding my breath

Won't lose you again

Something's made your eyes go cold

No one knows why he’s still thinking about it. Damon has heard the others murmuring and whispering. He’s not deaf, even if he is blind to whatever the hell is going through his dead heart at the moment. He wasn’t like this when everyone else close to him died, so what is it about Y/N that would shake him up so bad?

Maybe it’s because he loved her. Damon can admit it freely now. Yes, he loved her. Yes, she was the one person in his one hundred and seventy years who actually made him feel worthwhile. Katherine was something, certainly, but she still made Damon walk away from every encounter with a feeling that he wasn’t enough, a particularly bad taste in his mouth. That could just be the corruption of his memories now that Damon knows her for the deeply flawed vampire that she is, but still. The point remains true. 

Damon did love Y/N, though. He has vivid memories of meeting her, of talking with her, of realizing that finally, he managed to find someone who looked past his ‘troubled murderer’ exterior and love him back. Sure, Damon is a troubled murderer. He’s rather proud of it, too. 

The difference was that Y/N didn’t try to change him, not like Stefan with his bunny kills or Elena with her relentless righteousness. Y/N saw every facet of him and still wanted what she saw. People like that don’t come around every day, and they certainly won’t now. 

Come on, come on, don't leave me like this

I thought I had you figured out

Something's gone terribly wrong

You're all I wanted

Damon tilts his head back, closing his eyes so he can stare unseeingly up at the ceiling. Y/N was human, so Damon doesn’t know if she’s somewhere on the Other Side watching him or not. At times, he wishes she was, so he can pretend they’re not separated by time and death and a thousand or things. Other days, he’s glad she isn’t around to watch him throw his life away because he just can’t figure out what to do with himself now that she’s gone. 

Today, he’s kind of hoping she’s there to guide him after all. Nobody’s in the house except him, so when Damon starts to speak, the only one who can hear him is Y/N. Probably. 

“I miss you, you know.”

Nobody answers, as expected. Damon keeps going anyway. 

“I didn’t think I would miss you this much. I know, I know, that’s a horrible thing to say to your ghost, but it’s true. I knew losing you would hurt, but this is different.”

This hurt is a rusty garrote against his throat, cleaving and cutting and brutalizing every part of him. Damon was expecting a clean stab through the heart, and this is far worse. 

“If you were here right now, you would tell me—”

Damon lapses into silence. What would she tell him? To pick himself up from the floor and actually do something with his interminably long life, maybe. Preferably something that didn’t involve locking himself away in his house until the lack of fresh air alone killed him. 

He doesn’t really want to do that, though. The problem with becoming a sunlight fearing hermit is that it’s actually quite enjoyable, and allows Damon to partake in some of his favorite hobbies at the moment, such as grievous self pity and midnight ramblings fuelled by despondence. 

“You would tell me to get over myself, maybe, but you’d also joke about being properly mourned. Remember that one time we were trying to shut down a pack of rival vampires and we stumbled upon them having this crazy funeral rite for one of their dead? I’m talking about ash throwing, dove sacrificing, all of that. You looked me straight in the eyes and said that if I didn’t mourn you with that much extravagance, you’d come back and haunt me yourself.”

Damon smiles fondly, a wave of similar memories crashing over him. The moment slips away soon enough, though, because he can’t think about good times in the past without also realizing that he won’t get to have any more with her in the future. 

“Well, I’m kind of hoping you’ll stay true to that promise, but if not, I’m doing my best. I just wish you were here, alright? Why can’t you be here?”

His voice takes on a tinge of irritation. He’s not mad at her, necessarily, more at the world for daring to take his Y/N away from him. After everything he’s done, this feels like some sort of karma, but it’s still unfair. Y/N doesn’t deserve to die just because of him. 

Come on, come on, don't leave me like this

I thought I had you figured out

Can't breathe whenever you're gone

Can't turn back now, I'm haunted

If anything, Damon should be the one roasting in some eternal fiery chasm. How many people has he killed or drained of blood over the years? He is a monster, pure and simple, but he’s never really minded it before. Y/N never minded it, and therefore he didn’t have to, either.

That’s what’s getting to him, after all. Every single thing Damon does reminds him of Y/N. How is he supposed to stop grieving all the damn time if he can’t get out of this cycle? All of a sudden, he feels restless, interminably so. Damon picks himself up, forcing himself out of the house for what might be the second or third time in countless weeks. 

It’s dark outside, perhaps late at night. It could be anywhere from just shy of ten o’clock to an hour or two past midnight. Y/N used to chide him for letting himself get so far out of the scope of normal human time. That was mainly when he’d put off necessary tasks until the literal last second, and then use his vampire speed to get them all done just in time. Maybe he did it because he actually was that lazy, or maybe it was because he liked seeing her vexed but happy laughter every time he managed to pull off the impossible yet again.

Damon stumbles through the dark, around trees and over sidewalks, until he finds himself in the middle of the street. Again, not entirely uncommon for him; somehow, Damon isn’t surprised that he’s turned to his favorite habit for irreparable emotional damage.

He wanders until he’s a decent way away from the town borders, where he can be sure of finding a car traveling by at some point but the Sheriff or somebody else won’t stumble upon him. Damon carefully lays himself down on the asphalt (do not think about how Y/N looked in her coffin, do not think about how he’s clasping his hands over his chest in the same way that the mortician arranged her fingers) and looks up to the sky.

This far from the city limits, the stars are bright. Damon doesn’t remember when he learned the constellations, only the familiar feeling in his stomach that it was something he was meant to hide, another useless tidbit of information that the leather jacket wearing, blood draining evil vampire brother everyone saw him as wouldn’t keep rattling around in his head.

Damon isn’t one to claim that he’s misunderstood, far from it. He’s spent a good deal of time carefully cultivating his image, pruning and plucking away the boughs that refuse to reveal him as rotten to the core. He doesn’t care about anyone. He’d sooner cause the apocalypse than trouble himself. It’s a shame that he’s gone and ruined all of that now. It’s a shame that he let someone grow so close to him that their death could decimate him like this.

Damon lets his eyes flicker closed. His hand twitches unconsciously by his side, reaching out for someone that isn’t going to embrace him back. He can hear vibrations through the pavement, and smiles quietly. At last, someone has come to take pity on him.

Without opening his eyes, Damon feels the heat of the car approaching him, hears the sudden screech of the tires as the driver finally notices a body lying across the lane that definitely shouldn’t be there. He’s played this part to perfection many times before, and lets his somehow animated corpse take over on instinct, a marionette dangling on strings.

The car door flies open, and the sound of footsteps scurries over to Damon. A voice, half choked on unshed, guilty tears, reaches his ears over a chorus of night breezes and bird calls.

“Are you alright? Did you– I didn’t hit you, right?”

Damon nearly opens his eyes, just to give this woman an incredulous look. Did she hit him? Her car is stopped practically the length of a city block away from him. Obviously there was no actual collision, or she would be able to feel the bone jerking shake of it as her Toyota Camry smashed him into the pavement.

Instead, he stays tranquil, and recklessly lets his voice trail out into the night air.

“Do you think she misses me?”

The woman again, baffled. “What? Are you okay?”

Damon sighs. “Y/N. Do you think she misses me? Do you think she even knows about me anymore? I mean, she’s gone, obviously, I’m not an idiot, but I want to pretend that she’s still out there somewhere.”

The woman seems confused. “Sir, is everything alright?”

At last, Damon lets his eyes fly open. “Ma’am, I’m lying in the middle of the road and talking about my feelings to a complete stranger. Obviously things are not as swell as they could be.”

The woman rears back, but it’s too late. Damon moves on autopilot, straightening to his feet in about half a second and reaching for her. He doesn’t even bother with the whole cat and mouse chase of letting the woman attempt to run to her car only for him to appear by her door. One of his hands finds her jaw, and tilts it away. He can practically hear her blood thudding through her veins, calling out to him. It would be so quick, so fast.

He slips a little, in the moment. When the woman’s face twists in horror, he swears that he’s not looking at some random victim but at Y/N. This woman is just about the right height, her eyes just about the same color. It startles him so much that he finds he can’t commit to the kill after all, even when he manages to blink himself out of it.

He will try to take away my pain

And he just might make me smile

But the whole time I'm wishing he was you instead

Damon lets the woman go. It’s just not worth it anymore. He shakes his head, then manages to pull himself together long enough to compel her into forgetting that he was ever there. The woman moves robotically to her car, starting it up again and driving down the road once more. Damon watches her go. She doesn’t look like Y/N anymore, but for a moment there–

It doesn’t matter. Y/N isn’t coming back, and she certainly won’t be stumbling upon him on a darkened freeway. Damon shambles back down the road, headed towards the town limits. He should be able to pull himself together, but he can’t. Nothing in this world will ever be the same. It’s theatrical and insufferable, but it’s true.

Oh, holding my breath

Won't see you again

Something keeps me holding on to nothing

Damon pauses for a moment by the sign welcoming him to Mystic Falls. He leans against the wooden sign, staring up at the sky. At some point during his brief interlude on the road, the skies have shifted from dark to dawn. The barest threads of light can be seen on the horizon, beginning to weave together a new morning. 

Damon isn’t ready for it. With every day that comes, he’s expected to come back to his normal charming self, but Damon isn’t even sure that vampire exists anymore. There’s only him, this half being, left broken in this body. He is numb and lost and gone, and if there was ever someone who could pull him out of a funk like this, she’s lying dead and buried in the cemetery somewhere to his north.

Can't breathe whenever you're gone

Can't go back, I'm haunted

For once, though, Damon lets himself picture it. The life he had with Y/N, the life he should have had. He closes his eyes again, and a thousand memories pour into his head. Sharing leather jackets. Running down dark alleys, both for their lives and for fun. Y/N tossing blood bags at the back of his head, teasing him about being a parasite for the umpteenth time. Watching movies that Y/N calls practically ancient, even though Damon was there to see them in theaters when they first came out. A thousand lives for the best two people to ever call themselves one, and it’s all gone now.

There is moving on, and there is the half state of decay in which Damon finds himself now. He isn’t healed, far from it, but he’s letting go. Damon opens his eyes, and watches the sun appear on the distant horizon. Somewhere, he swears someone is calling his name. He won’t be able to answer her for a while, if ever, but he’ll do his best to get back to her.

You and I walk a fragile line

I have known it all this time

Never ever thought I'd see it break

Never thought I'd see it

[teyvat-imagines]

Also, congrats on the almost 200+ subs!! I'm excited for what you have planned on Monday 🐳 but also, before requests go off, could I request Xiao, Zhongli and Ganyu with an s/o on their death bed (like, they're dying from an illness or took a bullet for them, up to you to decide)? Feeling angsty today - 🐋

Ahhh thank you!! >3< I'm excited to get the event started tbh!! XD (first time I've ever been excited for a Monday probably!!) Some angst coming right up! :D

TW: Mentions of Death/Dying

Dying S/O

Xiao:

It wasn't supposed to have been like this. He was supposed to protect you. To fight away the demons as he always did. So how... How did it end up like this? How could he have let this happen!?

His arms shook as he reached out for you, your form too still, too weak, too fragile as he held you. You look up at him, but you don't quite see him. Your vision is failing you already. You're scared. You don't want to die, and he can't lose you, not now.

Not yet.

Please.

You feel out for him, finding his shaking hand and holding it in your own, a small, pale imitation of a smile on your face as you try to reassure him. That it was okay, clearly this was your time.

"No! No it's not. Please. (Y/N). Please hold on. I'll carry you back to Wangshu Inn. We can patch this up. We can fix this. Please. Please!"

He begs and he pleads and desperately runs your body back to his home among the humans. His heart is pounding but he knows it's not from the run. His cheeks are wet yet there was no rain.

It doesn't take a medical expert to know you were already gone, yet Xiao stubbornly clings to you, clings to the hope that you would somehow open your eyes one last time. That you would call for him one last time.

"Please... (Y/N)... Call my name... I'm here..."

Zhongli:

Zhongli had long ago accepted that he was destined to outlive you. As such was the life of an immortal such as himself.

He had anticipated you would live a long, full life. That you would permit him to stand by your side until the end. Until you your bones grew old and tired and you could no longer stand. And that when you left him, it would be with a content smile on your wonderfully aged face.

Yes. That was how Zhongli had envisioned eventually losing you...

He had not anticipated the Mitachurl's attack. Nor had he predicted the way you would move in front of him, baring the brunt of the blow.

No matter how many scenarios of departure Zhongli had predicted, praying the preparation would make your last good bye less painful, he had not envisioned this.

"(Y-Y/N)...?"

The sickening crunch as the large axe struck you.

The gurgle of blood in your throat as you struggled to breathe.

The look of fear and anguish in your eyes, your hand reaching out to him for help.

"No. No, no no no! No (Y/N)!! Hold still, please. I- I can fix this. You haven't lost too much blood, I promise the pain will stop soon. Please, keep your eyes open. Please! I'm not ready. It's too soon, (Y/N) please!"

His cries fall on deaf ears. Your eyes had lost their light long ago and your body was already growing cold. And yet he continued to call for you. Zhongli sobs and begs and screams for you until his throat is raw.

The Mitachurl swing its axe down again, though this time it was the crude weapon that shattered, as Zhongli looked up in cold fury.

"I will make you pay dearly for this."

Ganyu:

Ganyu had known long ago that your time together would be limited. With the Adeptus blood that ran through her veins, she was destined to live through many lifetimes. With that in mind, she had made the decision to try and live each day to the fullest with you.

With her bright, excited smile greeting you each morning, how could you ruin that by telling her you were dying? You knew you should tell her, but you didn't want to hurt her. There wasn't a cure, and the illness was hereditary. You were destined to die soon. And unfortunately for you, that day came even sooner than you had thought.

It had started as a coughing fit. Nothing out of the ordinary for you at first, but it soon grew to be a concern. Your coughing hadn't ceased, and it was starting to get hard to breath.

"(Y/N)? Dear are you okay? Let me get you some water."

Ganyu smiles gently, though you could hear the concern in her voice. She leaves the room, just for a moment to get you a drink. But a moment was all it took.

You coughs grew worse. It was painful and from the wet, choked sounds, you knew you had begun to cough up blood. The taste was foul, and the fluids being brough up were starting to cut off your ability to breathe.

You were weak. Dizzy. Terri fied. You wanted Ganyu here, yet at the same time didn't want her to see you like this. You didn't want to see her cry, not because of you.

Ganyu returns with your water, but that's soon forgotten, the glass shattering on the floor as she drops it and runs to your side.

"H-Hey, (Y/N)? (Y/N) can you hear me? What's... What's happening, please try to breathe, how can I help? (Y/N)? Dear...? H-Hey, come on please... We still have time. You aren't supposed to go now... It's too soon, (Y/N)! Please! Someone!! Help (Y/N)!"

It was too late of course. You were long gone, even as she cried and begged for a healer, for anyone who could help you. Even as they try to take your body away, Ganyu holds onto you, sobbing and begging you softly.

"(Y/N)... We still have so many years left... So don't go... Open your eyes for me, please..."