#this is only two episodes but it's like a dam breaking

[forcebookish]

cher going from barely able to answer "do you like me"

to projectile crying about how much he cares for and wants to be with gun

to scolding himself for being so in love

that boy is never finding his way back

[beastofburdenxo]

I got you

Thanks to @smezzzz, here is a continuation of "Look After You" Tommy has another seizure, this time at The Garrison in front of his brothers. As always, you are there. Just some fluff, mention of blood, typical Tommy language.

"Easy there, it's alright now, I've got you." Tommy woke up, excruciating pain ebbing through his head. Another episode happened, this time outside of the comfort of his home, where it could stay hidden.

No, this time, it was at The Garrison, in front of his family, who were very much unaware. Tommy cracked his head on the floor, causing blood to pool around him. John and Arthur picked him up out of his own blood and set him on one of the tables. Unsure of what to do, they called you in a panic.

Of course, you came immediately, knowing tommy would be very upset. Especially now that the cat is out of the bag. "Ssshhhh, it's alright. It's just a little blood this time. Just a small boo boo." You comfort tommy in his dazed state. His eyes are going in and out of focus, occasionally focusing on you. "Why wasn't we told about the seizures?" Arthur asks, clearly bothered by this whole thing.

"Tommy wanted no one to know. He has hid it well these past few months. You know how he is, very stubborn. Wanted no one thinking he couldn't lead. Thought he was less of a man." John shook his head, raising his glass as if to chuck it at Tommy's incompasitated head. "We would have never thought that, you ignorant fuck!"

Just then, a weak sound leaves Tommy's mouth, silencing the room. "Ssshhh, it's okay. We're all here for you, tommy." Arthur walks closer. "Yeah, Tom, we're not going anywhere. You should have told us before shit hit the fan, eh? You asshole." Tommy's eyes are only for you, ignoring the rest as silent tears streak his face. Your name weakly leaves his mouth as he realizes what had happened.

You send the boys away before the storm in Tommy's eyes approaches. His arms reach out for you before the dam finally breaks. You gather him in your arms as broken sobs leave him. "My brave boy. It's okay, sweetheart. Nobody is mad at you. They are just worried in their own way, you know. Sssshhh, tommy, relax." You kiss his forehead as you inspect his latest injury, "Well you've stopped bleeding. And on the upside," you lean to whisper this next part in his ear, "you didn't wet yourself this time. That secret stays with us, yeah?"

You gently rock him like you would an upset baby. Because he is your upset baby. You knew he didn't want this part to be shown. They've already seen the worst. This part is just for the two of you. You are his safe place. "Alright, let's get you home, yeah? You've had one hell of a day." You kiss the remaining tears away and you call the boys back to help tommy off the table.

Of course, they noticed his puffy eyes and the occasional sniffle, but not a word was said about it. Tommy didn't even try and fight their help like he normally would. "Go home brother, try again tomorrow, yeah?" John says with a pat on the back. "We can handle one day, Tom, we'll be alright." Arthur concluded as they helped tommy into the car.

On the way home, Tommy lays his head in your lap. You stroke his face as you drive. "That was so scary. How do you handle it so well?" Tommy murmured. "Well, sweetheart, this isn't my first rodeo. Poor Arthur was white as a sheet." You chuckled. "I don't want to be away from you for a second. I get scared when you're not around."

"Baby, it's okay. There's no need to be scared. Now that everyone knows, they can look after you when I can't. Now, do you see why I wanted you to tell them?" Tommy sighs. "Yeah, but they still aren't you love. You keep me calm."

As you pull up the long driveway, Tommy sits up and lays his head on your shoulder. "My fucking head is killing me." You give him a kiss. "I'd say so. You took quite the tumble today. And if you insist, I don't care to tag along a bit more than I do. But I can't help it if the boys give you shit over it." Tommy smiles up at you. "Fuck em, I need you. More than you could ever know. I love you "

"I love you too, Tommy sweetheart."

[jup1tersparx]

A dam falls, eve breaks

I smash my old self to bits

And would you drink poison for a body that fits?

(ID under cut)

[ID: Art of Percy Reed from hello from the hallowoods.

On the right is his decaying corpse in a sketchy art style. It is wearing a tattered dress, has black curly hair and is partially transparent. It is coloured in loosely, as if scribbled with colouring pencils. It is loosely suspended in the air by piano wires like a puppet, one arm above it’s head, one pointing to the side and one leg slightly bent, mimicking a dance. It is visibly slumped over. It’s face is indistinct, but has dark circles for what could be eyes and a mouth that has been stitched over. The colours are sepia toned and muted.

On the left is Percy Reed as a ghost, his form roughly carved from what appears to be fire; no lineart only negative space. The fire fills the bottom left third of the image and spills into the center. The style resembles a painting. The colours are extremely blown out, resembling heat map vision. There is an extremely saturated almost-red hot pink for the dark areas and a more muted cyan for light areas, with violet to bridge the gap when needed. You can roughly make out a collared shirt, an oversized jumper, trousers and short curly hair. His face, part of his torso and his hands are the most distinct part of the painting, the edges across the rest of him being more softly blended with the fire behind him. He is partially facing the corpse, but has turned his head to stare directly into the camera. With one hand he grips the wire suspending the corpse’s left arm and with the other he holds a burning hand underneath the arm, with the arm starting to catch fire. His stance is confident.

The background is dark and loosely sketched, resembling charcoal art. It depicts a clearing in a thick pine forest, a gothic style house in the center and a path leading to where the viewer is positioned. a cross is visible at the top of the spire. It is Solomon Reed’s house, as depicted in the episode art for 34, ‘Towers’. the sky is dark cyan and everything in the foreground under the charcoal is a dark ruby red. The colouring is also scribbled, barely lining up with the lineart. The fire percy is carved from covers part of the house, giving the illusion that it is also catching fire. The sky also may be filled with smoke. The image has a grain overlay and is square. The faces of the two percy’s are positioned at the crossover points of a (theoretical) rule of thirds grid. End ID]

[indelicateink]

just going over some things jacob anderson has hinted at in recent press that make me feral about the pending back half of season 2 lol

Louis, for example, might not be the tragic figure we think he is. Anderson teases that viewers still haven’t seen his character as he truly is. Maybe in Dubai, where he lives with Armand in the present as their kind is quietly setting in motion a worldwide coup of sorts. But even there, he speaks of his past from the perspective of a romanticized victim which he cautions the viewer to question as they empathize with him.

—Salon interview with Jacob Anderson and Sam Reid, 26 May 2024

——

Yeah, he’s in a very different space. The dam breaks in episode seven of Season 1, and there’s a level of pretend that he can’t achieve anymore. He still has an innate attachment to modern-day Louis that’s like an alien quality that comes in and out, but he’s pretty raw at the beginning of the season and only gets rawer. So yeah, he’s in quite a significantly different place with Louis’ journey in Europe, as well as him having to come to terms with what he’s really about. In Season 1, and it was a big thing in the book, it was about moral versus aesthetic. You really see the completion of that idea in Season 2. What is Louis really about? Is he all about morality, or is there quite a significant aesthetic element to that? He’s a complicated one with lots of problems.

—Jacob Anderson, Collider, 3 June 2024

——

“It is a very, very emotional season,” he says, before clarifying that he thinks season 1 was also emotional but season 2 provides a new perspective into his character’s psyche.

“I think that it’s an intellectual current that runs through Louis and the way that Louis speaks. It’s a front in season 1. It’s a front for detachment, and it all kind of breaks down to a raw, like what’s underneath the skin," he adds.

The Game of Thrones alum confesses that fans “are going to scream at the TV” but adds that he believes fans will “feel a huge amount of satisfaction and catharsis and all the emotions.”

“I think when people watch it, there are going to be things that are shocking to hear that come out of that,” he notes.

—People interview with Jacob Anderson and Sam Reid, 10 May 2024

——

Louis’ struggles to connect with the two major loves of his life are a sign of his inner turmoil, says Anderson. “Louis self-sabotages all the time because he’s not comfortable with who he actually is. I think being a vampire is actually what Louis always was supposed to be,” he says. “It feels like there’s a relationship between Louis’ vampiric nature and the way he was before he became a vampire. And that’s something that he finds very difficult to accept.”

“His journey in Season 2 is really reckoning with himself,” he goes on. “Imagine you go on a journey of self-discovery and what you find is that you were the problem. What you discover is that you’re kind of everything that you dislike about other people. I think that’s a very hard thing to find about yourself, and he does.”

—TV Insider interview with Jacob Anderson, 2 June 2024

[sixosix]

EPISODE TWO.

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The time it happened was when Izumi and Koji had been busy with their sports club—and the students who didn’t have anything to attend to stayed behind and finished up work in the classroom. This leaves you, Hinata, and one of the girls in your class who pounces on you the moment you’re alone.

“Hey…” Yuriko starts. She grins slyly, pushing her chair closer to yours until you’re cornered against your desk and the wall. "You and Yukitaka-kun seem pretty close, huh? What’s that all about?”

Warmth builds in your cheeks. “You think so?”

“Don’t act so coy!” Yuriko cackles. “You know everyone in the class thinks so.”

You hide your face with your hands. “It’s embarrassing…!”

As if a dam broke, Yuriko shakes you back and forth by the shoulders like lifelong friends. “Yukitaka is the guy even girls in other classes have a crush on! You’re so lucky!”

You feel pride bloom in your chest. Yeah… Yeah! This is how it goes. Just like the movies, the shows—it’s normal to have rivals. It’s part of the plot, even; for your character development and to further progress your relationship with Izumi. Everyone likes a good jealousy trope.

“So? What are you two?”

You might have bluescreened. “Huh?”

“Are you together?”

You’re not sure what face you’re making by this point, but it must’ve been pretty confusing if Yuriko looks mildly worried. “I— What! No!”

“So you aren’t?”

“So what?”

“Don’t get so upset!” She claps you on the back. Air blows out of your lungs for a good two seconds. Hinata looks over his shoulder, and you flush in embarrassment, realizing that he’s hearing every word of this conversation. “Everyone thinks you’re together except the both of you, apparently. Have you at least confessed to each other?”

“Well… I like him,” you mutter shyly.

“Does he like you back?”

…Does he?

Your eyes widen.

You cannot believe you managed to skip over the most important part—reciprocated feelings! Usually, it’d take a lot longer for that, for the build up of the story. But this is real life! There’s no need for all that nonsense! You have to find out if he does.

“I don’t know yet, but I will soon,” you promise.

Yuriko pales. “That’s pretty threatening. Don’t coerce the guy.”

“I wouldn’t have to. We’re soulmates.”

“...I mean—I guess?”

As fate designed it, you and the three boys grow closer and closer with each Lunch break and free period spent together. It’s all in your plan to make Izumi like you back, but Koji and Shoyo aren’t half-bad, either.

Well, mostly Koji. Shoyo is still a real piece of work. You bicker back and forth endlessly—you with your grudge against his bike, and Shoyo because he’s simply confrontational. But whatever relationship you have with Shoyo doesn’t matter, not when you seem to have progressed with Izumi.

You feel like Izumi feels the same way—he has to be.

“You notice it, too, right, Shoyo?”

“I mean—I dunno…” Hinata trails off awkwardly. He glances around the room nervously. But why would he? It’s just the two of you alone; Yuriko had left. “It’s only been two weeks.”

“But if we’re soulmates, then you don’t worry about stuff like that.” You inch closer to Hinata, nose-to-nose. “Don’t you think so, Shoyo? You think so, too, right?”

Hinata sucks in a sharp breath, turning several shades darker. “I… I—” He shoves your face away, then buries his own in his palms. “I don’t know! Leave me alone!”

You pout. “Aren’t you his best friend? You’re a useless wingman.”

“I didn’t sign up to be one!”

What a real piece of work.

Yuriko wasn’t joking when she said that at least half the class was nudging you in Izumi’s direction. You almost feel bad for Izumi, who looks just as lost as you are when your classmates not-so-subtly push you to each other when the class is forming a crowd. They giggle and smirk, and when Izumi asks you, “What’s going on?”, you have to play dumb. You can’t tell if they’re ruining or accelerating your plan—either way, it’s throwing you just as much as Izumi off.

“I guess they think we make a great pair,” you say. “Or something.”

Izumi mulls it over for a few seconds, before smiling down at you. “Well, they aren’t wrong.”

And because you’re hopeless and harboring a big crush on the guy, you stutter and nearly trip over your own feet. The class explodes and bullies you relentlessly with teasing remarks. Your face is hot, and Izumi doesn’t really get it, but that’s okay. This is peak middle school romance—one of them’s gotta be clueless.

Fortunately, you don’t have to put with any more of that when the teacher walks in and tells everyone off, effectively freeing you from nosy teenagers.

You weren’t prepared for how awkward it would be. If you confess and get rejected, does that mean that the class will know about it as well? What a terrifying pressure to put on your shoulders.

“Are you guys coming over to watch our match?” Izumi asks one day. “We’re going up against some of the top guys. It’ll be fun.”

Hinata emits a wordless sound of excitement. “You can win this, Izumin!”

Izumi giggles. “We don’t have to win—I just want to play.”

Hinata thwacks a hand against Izumi’s back. “Believe in yourself!”

“Okay, okay,” Izumi says placatingly, but he’s still tittering.

“I’ll watch, Izumi,” you say with a beam. You haven’t seen him play before, but you bet that he would look really cool, and you would feel your heart thump-thump the entire time. You’d cheer for him.

Izumi’s smile is less teasing and more genuine and directed at you. “Okay. I’ll see you there.”

Koji gags, shattering the fragile moment that’s carefully bubbled between you two. “Stop it. Gross.”

You fluster, unsure of what to say or if you should even give yourself an excuse. Luckily, Izumi saves you.

“What about you, Shoyo? How’s your volleyball club?”

Hinata pouts. Even his hair and shoulders seem to have deflated. “I’m still the only member. The girls’ club is helping me out, but it’s not the same.”

Koji and Izumi share guilty glances, but it’s not like they can do much for him, either—at least, not in the way Hinata needs.

You wonder, gaze lingering on Hinata.

When Hinata suddenly becomes interested in volleyball, he just has to drag everyone along with him. During lunch, he begs for everyone to steal a ball from the sports club, but you’re all good students, so Hinata ends up asking permission by himself. Serves him right. Izumi is busy enough with basketball, while Koji is too used to using his legs and is not making up for good practice. You just don’t want to play.

“I just want to play,” Hinata whines at you, aiming his puppy eyes that don’t affect you in the slightest.

“Get off me, you midget,” you hiss, knocking him off your shoulders.

He slides away in a pathetic slither. “Break is almost over! Please! Just toss to me!”

“Jeez! Fine!”

Hinata makes a wordless sound of unadulterated glee, classic Hinata.

“But not now. We have a volleyball at home.” You ignore Hinata’s wide smile, feeling rudely affected by it. “Let’s go to the park or something.”

“Really!? You’d do that?”

“Yeah. Sure, I guess.” Hinata keeps smiling wider, and your irritation spikes. “It’s only to get you off my back—I’m not doing you any favors.”

Your annoyed rebuttal is interrupted by Koji’s cough. You and Hinata turn to them with blinking eyes. Izumi and Koji stare at you with something like wonder—like they’re seeing something they missed before.

“Since when did you two get so close?” Koji asks suspiciously.

“Ha?” you and Hinata chorus.

“You call this close?” Then you bury your knuckle on his head, grinning at Hinata’s answering whine. “I hate his guts.”

Izumi laughs. “You two act like you’ve known each other forever.”

You shudder, horrified. “Oh, dear.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hinata says, tugging on your wrist. You’re a bit miffed that he’s only mildly offended. “Come with me; let’s return this to the gym.”

“What? Why do you need someone to come with you—”

Hinata ignores your attempts at nudging his grip off, marching to the gymnasium like he isn’t holding you hostage.

“Why do you have a volleyball at home? Do you play?” he asks.

You thought Hinata would be uninterested in sports compared to Izumi and Koji. You’re not quite sure where this sudden obsession has come from. He just showed up one day in class and declared that he would be the Little Giant… whatever that means.

“My cousin does.”

“Is your cousin a pro?”

“I just know Tenma plays a lot. I dunno.”

“Oh, cool.” Hinata doesn’t loosen his grip even as you reach the gymnasium. He has a powerful grip for someone who looks short and is built like a twig. How surprising. He directs that dumb fucking grin toward you once again, forcing you to look off to the side.

You want to say something to piss him off and wipe that smile off his face, but Hinata goes incredibly still and silent. You follow his gaze and see Yuriko by the corner, staring at you and Hinata weirdly.

“Hi,” you call out, waving.

“H-Hey,” she says, “um, sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” then scurries off.

Weird...

Hinata shoulder-checks your side. “Hey.”

You glance over at him briefly; he’s still looking at the spot Yuriko was. “Hey, you.”

“When are you gonna confess to Izumi?”

You gape, mouth hanging uselessly as Hinata keeps his gaze forward.

“I—I mean… I don’t know, really.” Is he trying to change the subject? You bury your face in your hands, steaming from the ears. “Maybe when we graduate? I’m trying to warm up to him first.”

“Do it soon,” Hinata says as if that isn’t the most cryptic thing ever. You have to.”

“What? Why do I have to?”

Hinata huffs a frustrated breath. “Just—trust me, okay? You wanted me to be your wingman, don’t you?”

“You’re not making any sense, weirdo.”

“S-Shut up. I’m trying to help!”

It’s hard to discern if Izumi likes you back. He treats you the same way he treated you when you first met: sweet and nice and soft-spoken, like the Shoujo male lead should act. But he’s not doing anything.

It all changes when you walk home with him in tow. I’ll walk you there, Izumi insists, even though he goes the other direction. Your silly romantic heart flutters at this gentlemanly act, but the somber air prevents you from kicking your feet over it. It’s a haunting silence—something bad is going to happen. You can almost hear the sad music in the air.

“Um,” you start to interrupt the doomed silence. “I heard that you and Koji temporarily joined Hinata’s volleyball club to help him get into the tournament. That’s really sweet.”

Izumi’s face scrunches up. “Yeah.”

You laugh softly. “Don’t be nervous. I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

Izumi tuts. “I know Shoyo will be alright. He has a good jump.”

“Really?”

“You’ve never seen it?” Izumi tilts his head. “I thought you invited Shoyo over so you could play?”

You shake your head. “No, we haven’t really had the chance to do that. You and Koji should come over, too, when we play. Maybe when school ends.”

Izumi smiles, but seems to remember something that has him frowning. “Hey. Did I tell you about it?” At your confusion, Izumi clarifies, “That I’m moving out for high school. My mom found a good school for me, but that means…”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s—” Izumi isn’t staying. Is that why Hinata told you to confess soon? 

Izumi kicks at the grass. “Where are you going to study for college?”

“Karasuno. It’s where my cousin went.”

Izumi appears dejected, casting his gaze to the ground. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” You won’t be seeing each other a lot anymore, not like this, at least.

“That’s the same high school Shoyo is going to,” Izumi says. “At least you’ll have company.”

“Izumi,” you say, with a surge of determination, just as Izumi mutters your name. “Ah—you go first.”

“Y/N,” Izumi begins, blushing and rubbing at the nape of his neck. He looks charming like this: shy and boyish; you can see why it’s easy for anyone to have a crush on him. “I really like you, you know? I think you feel the same. I mean—at least that’s what I heard, so…”

“O-Oh.” You hide your face behind your hands. You peek in between two fingers just to see what his reaction is. “I have a really big crush on you.”

You don’t know what face you’re making, but Izumi takes a glance at it and blushes in a deep red. “Yeah,” he stutters. “You’re pretty and smart and nice. But—”

“But you’re moving,” you finish for him.

Izumi sighs. “Yeah.”

You breathe in the somber air, wondering if it was always meant to go like this the moment you met Izumi.

[ series taglist: @lynketa @quikhs @dazqa @hajwnidnjf @auranny @sur-i-ki @idontevenknow129 @arael-asuka @romyoia @noble-17 @lottierulez ]

hi to the people in the taglist!! would you mind telling me if the taglist works >__< thank you very much. And thank u for reading!!

[doumadono]

emergency request

work has been stressful. i’m having panic attacks, and i’m dealing with a lot of disability related stuff on top of it. (in short: frequent episodes of not being able to move. at all.)

i don’t know if you write geto (didn’t see him on your masterlist), but if so, i would really appreciate a little geto x f!reader comfort fluff. if you’re not comfortable writing geto, i would happily accept aizawa.

thanks 🖤

A/N: I'm truly sorry to hear that you've been going through such a challenging time. Work-related stress, panic attacks, and dealing with disability-related matters must be incredibly tough. Take the time you need for self-care. You're stronger than you know, and I believe in your resilience ♥ If you ever want to talk or share more, I'm here for you. Take care of yourself, my dear! I genuinely hope this brief story brings you some comfort. Please be gentle with me - it's only my second time writing for him

JUJUTSU KAISEN EMERGENCY REQS

Geto was exceptionally perceptive, noticing subtle shifts in your mood long before you verbalized them.

He paid close attention to the nuances of your expressions, from the smallest furrow in your brow to the way your gaze shifted.

Initially, he observed in silence, not wanting to intrude but filing away mental notes about the patterns of your emotional landscape.

Geto became adept at distinguishing between your ordinary fluctuations and the more pronounced signs of emotional turmoil, honing in on the moments when you became increasingly weighed down.

He noticed the small details — how your laughter lost its genuine lilt or how your smile didn't quite reach your eyes during particularly trying times.

He was observant not only of the highs and lows but the nuances in between, recognizing the subtleties of emotions that might elude others. 

Finally, one day, he asked, "You seem a bit distant lately. Anything you want to talk about?”

You tentatively shared glimpses of your struggles, allowing Geto to see the vulnerability you kept hidden from others. "It's just work stress, I guess. Been feeling overwhelmed…”

Geto pulled you into a reassuring hug. “I'm here, baby. Pour it out.”

The walls around your emotions started to crumble. “I've been having panic attacks, and it's affecting every part of my life. I'm just so… tired… emotionally exhausted, you know?”

He tenderly planted a series of gentle kisses on your forehead. "Don't fret, my dear. This too shall pass. All you have to do is be patient and show kindness to the wonderful soul of yours that I hold so dearly. Come, let me take care of you.”

The weight of the day pressed heavily on your shoulders as you stumbled into the shared apartment. The air felt thick with the residue of stress, and every step carried the burden of exhaustion. In a rare moment of vulnerability, the dam holding back the emotions broke, and you couldn't contain the torrent any longer.

Without warning, you began to scream, a raw and primal release of the pent-up frustrations and anxieties that had accumulated throughout the day. The sound echoed through the walls, a cathartic symphony of anguish. With each scream, you shed a layer of the burdens you had carried for far too long.

In a desperate frenzy, you tore your bag off your shoulders, the motion aggressive and unbridled. The bag hit the floor with a thud, a symbol of the weight you were shedding. Shoes were kicked off haphazardly, sent flying across the room like discarded remnants of a battle fought in the outside world.

Limping a step or two, you felt the physical toll of the day on your body. Each movement was a reminder of the struggles faced, a silent testimony to the challenges that seemed insurmountable. Despite the pain, you pressed on, driven by an unyielding need to find release.

Finally, on your knees, your body sank to the floor, and you hid your face in your hands. The sobs wracked your frame, the tears flowing freely as if breaking a dam of pent-up emotions. The vulnerability of the moment was palpable, an unguarded display of the toll that life had taken on your spirit.

The apartment walls absorbed the echoes of your cries, bearing witness to the raw authenticity of your emotional unraveling. In this private space, you allowed yourself to be unapologetically human, to let the facade crumble and reveal the vulnerabilities beneath.

Unbeknownst to you, Geto had been home the entire time, quietly observing the storm of emotions that unfolded. His footsteps had been soundless, allowing you the space to release the torrents of frustration that had built up throughout the day.

From the loyalty of a follower, the dynamic had shifted into a more intimate connection — the transformation from a dedicated supporter to a life partner. It had surprised you, leaving you in a state of perpetual awe at the evolution of your relationship. You marveled at Geto's keen intellect, appreciating the depth of his personality that went beyond the public facade. Yet, despite the admiration, there lingered a sense of bewilderment. You couldn't fathom what it was in you that had caused someone of his stature to fall for someone as seemingly ordinary as you.

The quiet rustle of Geto's kāṣāya garment marked his silent approach. As he entered the room, his discerning eyes took in the scene — your slumped figure on the floor, the remnants of emotional release scattered around. 

With a subtle grace, Geto crouched beside you, his kāṣāya settling around him. His presence was a steady anchor in the midst of emotional turbulence. As he observed, the lines of concern etched onto his face betrayed a genuine worry for your well-being.

His thumb and index finger gently grasped your chin. There was a silent understanding in his touch — a recognition of shared struggles and vulnerabilities.

With a voice that held a calming resonance, he asked, "What's wrong, my love?" Geto's eyes searched yours, seeking the truth behind the storm of emotions that had unfolded.

Struggling against the strength of Geto's grasp on your chin, you attempted to avert your gaze from his keen, black irises. However, his hold was unyielding, preventing even the slightest movement. Your eyes, teary and vulnerable, met his unwavering gaze.

Tears welled up and spilled down your cheeks as the floodgates of emotion burst open yet again. With each sob, you began to share the burdens that had led to this emotional breaking point. The weight of work, the battles with disability, and the overwhelming stress poured out in words between shaky breaths. "I... I just can't handle it anymore," you admitted, voice choked with emotion. "Every day feels like a struggle, and I don't know how to keep going. Oh, I'm so so useless."

As you poured out your heart, a haunting self-doubt surfaced. Amidst the sobs, you confessed, "And... and I don't understand why you're with me. I'm not good enough for someone like you. You deserve someone stronger, someone who doesn't break down like this."

In the stillness that followed, Geto's gaze remained unwavering, his fingers maintaining their gentle yet firm hold. His expression held a mixture of understanding and compassion, the weight of your words acknowledged without judgment.

With a voice that resonated with sincerity, he responded, "Strength is not about never breaking down, little one. It's about finding the courage to rise again. And you, my dear, are stronger than you give yourself credit for."

His words, though simple, carried a profound reassurance. Geto's thumb wiped away a tear from your cheek, his touch a gentle acknowledgment of the vulnerability you had bared. "I chose you because of who you are," he affirmed, his voice a soothing presence amid the storm of emotions. "Your strength lies in your resilience, in the way you face challenges head-on. You don't have to be perfect; you just have to be yourself."

With your gaze locked onto Geto's unwavering eyes, lips slightly parted and tears streaming down your face, you continued to pour out the burdens that had weighed heavily on your heart. The sobs, though still present, became intertwined with the raw honesty of your words. "I feel like I'm drowning, Geto," you admitted, your voice shaky yet determined. "Work, my disability, everything... It's just too much. There are moments when I can't move, and it terrifies me. I don't know how to handle it." The vulnerability in your expression mirrored the openness of your heart. "I thought I could handle it all, but it's breaking me," you confessed. "I can't keep up this facade of strength. It's exhausting, and I'm tired, Geto. Tired of pretending I'm okay when I'm not."

Tears blurred your vision as you continued, "And there's this constant fear," you continued, your voice quivering. "That I'm not good enough for you. That you'll see through this facade and realize I'm just... not enough…"

Geto observed your tear-streaked face with a slight tilt of his head, his gaze unwavering. Geto slipped one of his strong arms under your knees and the other against your back. With seemingly effortless strength, he lifted you into his arms, cradling you with a tenderness.

Silently carrying you through the apartment, he navigated toward a hidden sanctuary — a winter garden tucked away at the back: a place that held significance, a haven of tranquility that had often brought you solace in times of need.

The door creaked open, revealing the serene winter garden adorned with delicate flora. The air was warm, and the ambient quietness seemed to amplify the intensity of the moment. Geto, still holding you securely in his arms, stepped into the sanctuary that he knew held a special place in your heart.

The familiar surroundings embraced you with a sense of calmness as Geto carefully settled you on a comfortable metal bench covered with thick blankets, ensuring that you were cradled in warmth. 

Geto's gaze shifted to the delicate flora surrounding you. His voice was low and measured as the tall man began to explain, "All of these," he gestured towards the various plants, "are delicate. Just like you." His words held a quiet reverence for the intricacies of life, and he moved towards a small pot adorned with your favorite flowers — blue orchids. "It's easy to break them," he continued, his fingers grazing the petals with a gentle touch. "But even in their delicate state, they strive to survive." His attention shifted to a particular orchid that both of you had thought was long gone. Geto revealed the seemingly lifeless stalks, and to your surprise, pointed out two new buds emerging, still tender and small. "They may look delicate, but they have a strength within," he remarked, his eyes meeting yours. "Even when faced with adversity, they find a way to grow anew." Moving back to you, Suguro's gaze held a rare softness. "Just like these orchids, you've faced challenges and found the strength to grow. I admire your resilience." His words were sincere, a reflection of the admiration he held for your tenacity in the face of life's storms.

Tears welled up in your eyes. The quiver in your chin mirrored the emotions boiling within your soul. The weight of his words sank in, a profound recognition of the strength that had blossomed in the face of adversity. "I... I never thought of it that way," you admitted, your voice soft and tremulous. "It's just... sometimes it feels like everything is too much, like I'm too fragile for this world." The vulnerability in your confession hung in the air, a stark contrast to the quiet strength that Geto had just commended.

Geto's eyes held a depth of understanding as he listened to your words. With a reassuring touch, he reached out, his thumb gently brushing away a tear that trailed down your cheek as he took a seat beside you. "It's crucial," he said, "to focus on your own well-being. Only then can you coexist with your inner demons. Sorrow has a human heart too often. And you're strong enough to overcome it.” Geto, with a tender gesture, pulled you to sit on his thick lap. His strong arms enveloped you, drawing you close to his wide torso. Gently rocking you back and forth, he whispered words of encouragement into your ear. "You're stronger than you think, and I believe in you. Life throws challenges at everyone, and your resilience in facing them is truly admirable. Remember, it's okay not to have it all figured out. Be patient with yourself, take one step at a time, and know that you're not alone. I'm here, you're not alone. We're in this together. You're capable of overcoming whatever comes your way, and I'm proud to stand by your side. You can always count on me. I won't hesitate to remove any obstacles that stand in your way. Your well-being is my priority.”

The warmth of his embrace and the soothing cadence of his voice created a sanctuary of comfort, a moment of solace in which you felt both physically and emotionally embraced. You gently wrapped your sore arms around Suguru's neck, seeking solace in his comforting, warm embrace. Nuzzling into the crook of his neck, you expressed gratitude, your voice soft but filled with sincerity. "Thank you for always being so gentle with me.”

"Anytime, Y/N. Difficult moments will fade away. And I'll never leave you alone. Ever,” he accentuated the last word, gently kissing your forehead. "Now, wipe away those tears and join me. We still have a delightful supper to prepare together.”

[cthulhuwritesstuff]

Let’s talk about escapism.

In case of these two peculiar lovable dummies, escape from reality they face on daily basis (not to mention that those realities are also what both of them believe they deserve) is being with each other.

Both realities are quite different (which is the issue number one), and at this point, I believe we all know what those realities are.

However, when brought down to crisp clear simplicity: they both suffer from tremendous amounts of guilt and are both in trauma-induced, nerve-wracking, depressing state of survival mode. They understand each other very well, because it takes one to know one, but neither of them is allowed to see that. It is more of an instinct that they do not question in fear of breaking their little kaleidoscope image of a fantasy where they just are.

Means of escape in this case is sex, where both of them get to let go of that baggage for a while and ignore the existence of it altogether.

This tactic, no matter how enticing and addictive, is still just a means to an end, and it has a low shelf-life expectancy.

They are both aware, partially or subconsciously, of this engagement and are both unwilling to to let go of it because “You are the only thing that makes me feel alive and not just like I am surviving Hell.” (Literally)

BUT, as long as it’s not addressed head on, it is not real and it can’t hurt them, and as we already know — real things in their lives hurt them and are what makes them miserable.

Stolas is aware of that. He is way ahead of Blitz when it comes to that realization.

Stolas himself mentions the adoration and fear he has toward their escape method several times, in his songs.

Stolas not only knows he’s at risk of losing his escape method, but due to him bringing these feelings he had developed for Blitz forward into his reality, they suffocate him just like the rest of his life does. He has no capacities to rationalize it all, he has never healed. So he convinces himself, despite hope and reason, that Blitz doesn’t want the real him.

He had made this decision even before Blitz came in, whether he liked it or not. The spark Blitz brings into his life is far too small to battle the overbearing guilt of simply existing. He trained and fed that monster for years.

His hope sounds more like foolishness and naïveté to him, because “How can someone love me?”

So he leaves the situation before the conflict begins, because that is how he copes. He wants to escape the crashing “reality he deserves” (which is being all alone and sad), and no matter how much we know that’s not true, right now, Blitz is a part of that reality for good, not his escape method anymore.

Stolas’ image is all he has, and keeping himself composed is literally all he has left when he finally faces Blitz. When Blitz doesn’t allow him to leave, doesn’t understand why he is being “dismissed” and challenges him, the dam breaks and Stolas now forces him out to get some of his equilibrium back. That creates a whole new problem I cannot wait to see addressed in the future episodes. Stolas will most probably overcompensate for that last “show of weakness” in some way. Let’s remember: Blitz had never seen Stolas cry before, and honestly, I don’t think anyone who matters has.

On the other side, Blitz has the realization of “this is real” the moment Stolas offers him the crystal with no strings attached.

“I can always do better” said after Stolas had already placed his freedom on the palm of his hand is him asking not to be forced to face the fact that this is not just a fantasy world anymore.

“Keep it the way it was because that doesn’t hurt” might be the words to go by, and Blitz— no matter the fact that he hears exactly what Stolas is telling him and understands it, too — is now terrified.

Because Blitz is not good enough. He is not a reliable person. He is trash. He is at the bottom of the food chain. He is a murderer. A selfish, heartbreaking freak. He is a hypocrite and a pervert. He is undeserving of understanding, of comfort, of grace.

And that feeling of instant pain and rage you get when you read those words is exactly what he fights against each day while telling all those things to himself.

None of it true, yet Blitz believes it wholeheartedly.

He attempts to push that away again by slipping into the all-too-easy role play, into silly make believe, not because he is cruel, not because he is obtuse, but because he is desperate to keep the door to his escape route open. To keep the fantasy going, because he has no capacities to realize his feelings (or Stolas’ feelings) yet.

And when he is, yet again, cut off, is where the fight or flight kicks in and his inner voices start screaming.

There must be a real, tangible reason that Stolas is doing this. There must be some kind of an endgame that Blitz can understand. Blitz needs his equilibrium back now, and there’s the point of breaking.

Stolas is probably getting bored of him. Stolas now knows what he likes and that he can get it anywhere he wishes, so he is throwing Blitz away and trying to masquerade it as a kind gesture. And to Blitz, who takes pride in standing his ground and never backing down, who despises being looked down on and being pitied, this is absolutely infuriating. It is downright insulting.

Rage pours forth, and he is borderline incoherent, but everything he says is a precise image of what he thinks of himself first and what he wants Stolas to do second. There is nothing to land on however, Stolas is not his escape anymore, so when Blitz falls into anger, he burns to crisp and says things he doesn’t mean.

Escaping into Stolas was all too easy and he had taken it for granted — both of them had. Stolas shows this by, even for a moment, hoping Blitz would say “yes, I will stay” at the drop of a dime, and Blitz by expecting Stolas to take everything he dishes out, bear traps and insults included, and still want to be around him.

Neither of these things happen, neither gets to escape themselves. The spell is broken and now they are both hurt, they are both alone. They are equally at fault when it comes to that fight and they are equally overdue for facing their own demons. They were, at the end of the day, singing two different songs and there was no room for really understanding the other side when there’s already so many assumptions, insecurities, self-hatred and conclusions about what they had birthed from pain and previously accumulated fear.

We are not supposed to be told this straight up through the show. Neither of them is supposed to say this aloud because real life doesn’t work that way, and I love that. It is very raw and visceral and it is very well crafted.

As I said before, I will say it again: miscommunication in this episode was done flawlessly and I cannot wait to see how it all gets resolved.

[disasterfandoms]

Misery Loves the Brave || A Jack Gibson Imagine

@tinfoilhat2719​ requested: “ Hey! Can i make a request for the newest episode of station 19 for jack Gibson? Reader and Jack are engaged and the reader is a trauma surgeon at Grey Sloan. She is with Bailey and Webber when dean comes in the ambulance and she’s worried and thinks it’s jack at first, until she sees it’s dean. she tries to comfort Jack but he distances himself from her and goes back to work. Later that night after both of their shifts he breaks down in her arms cause he’s afraid he’s gonna lose her because he lost everyone else in his life and she’s just there to reassure him it will be okay “

A/N: So this request has been sitting in my drafts for a year or two, because I never knew exactly how to start it, or how I wanted it to go. Jack is my favorite character on Station 19, and I hope to this, and him, justice.

TW: mentioned major character death

You could feel your heart in your throat as you realized what your colleague, Dr Bailey, was pointing out.

Someone was dead in that ambulance, and chances are, it could be your fiancé, or another member of his team.

You hated days like this, where you had to work on one of the members of the family you and Jack have built over the years. It always felt like someone was taking a knife to your chest, and twisting it which each sign that it wasn’t looking good for your friend, for your coworker.

You felt like you remembered how to breathe when you saw Jack jump out of those ambulance doors, relief rushing through your body. “Jack,” you spoke warmly, stopping when you saw he couldn’t look at you, he couldn’t look at anyone.

Someone you love was in the back of that ambulance... you just didn’t expect it to be Dean.

You let out a gasp when you saw the man’s lifeless body, the tube going down his throat, and the burns around his face. You looked back at Jack, moving to him, silently placing a hand on his shoulder. Unfortunately you knew he wouldn’t break, not now, not until you two were alone. “I’m so sorry Jack,” you whispered, swallowing the emotions down as he nodded, moving with you inside the building, to check on his other friends.

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

Going home was a challenge for the both of you. You were dedicated to your work, and wanted to tie up all loose ends before you left the hospital, especially when it came to the firefighters you operated on that day.

But when it was time, you left the hospital, and headed home, where Jack was waiting on the porch step, unable to go inside. 

“Hey,” you smiled, moving to sit beside him, relaxing as he instantly wrapped his arm around your shoulders. He stayed quite for a while, taking in the calmness in the air.

“Everyone always leaves,” he eventually whispered, swallowing as a tear fell down his face.

“I haven’t, and I won’t,” you whispered, taking his other hand into yours. “Not going anywhere, you’re stuck with me,” you joked, smiling when a low chuckle came from the man beside you.

“Dean is... was my best friend, Y/N,” he whispered, “I don’t know what to do with him gone.”

“Honor his memory,” you spoke quietly, looking up at him. “Take care of yourself, and help out your friends, especially Vic. Be the type of man he knew you are.”

He nodded, finally letting the dam break, sobbing onto your shoulder. You moved to hug him tightly, whispering apologies over and over again, trying to comfort the man.

You only hoped this wouldn’t break him.

[gabessquishytum]

Naked Chef Hob

Hob has a cooking show that started on YouTube where he cooks in the nude with just an apron on -- depending on what he was cooking the apron was either around just his waist or a full apron (splat-ery things are going to splat!).

Every time he bakes, with just his (small) apron around his modesty, and gets flour or sugar streaks on his chest he goes viral. (The gifset from the episode where he frosted a cake & pink frosting got smeared near his nipple for the last 20 minutes of the show gets reblogged constantly.)

Hob is actually a very good chef and he started the YouTube thing when he lost a bet - it's not his fault the interwebs like to catalog his tattoos and his manbun broke the internet that one time. 😎 Despite his viral fame, he still cooks at his small restaurant.

The youtube thing was never supposed to be anything other that a forfeit, a lark. Well now, HFGTV wants Hob to take his "show" to tv. Being naked on YouTube is different than being naked on a channel that used to host Alton Brown,,,,and now hosts Dream d'Endless.

Hob doesn’t know if he can be in the studio, where Dream talks very seriously about fresh ingredients and food history, with nothing more than a branded apron covering his bits.

Of course, the pilot is a hit; of course, after his 2nd taping when Dream accidentally (on purpose) swung by to watch him work,,,,he kept. stopping. by. to watch Hob cook (hopefully, sexily) covered in the sauce of the day. Only problem, Dream never stays long enough for Hob to talk to him - it was all just smolder-y eyes. Hob is really glad the aprons are thick or he would be cooking on pornhub.

NAKED CHEF!!!! This is so good.

The show is a hit, which is great! Except that people keep recognising Hob in public now. It's great for the restaurant, they're booked out every night. But not so great when Hob is just trying to go grocery shopping, and gets accosted by fans. His YouTube show was never THIS big. He actually has a small breakdown about the whole situation in the studio bathroom (dressed only in his apron and sneakers because he may cook naked but he always wears shoes, he is NOT going to drop a knife on his foot AGAIN).

Anyway. Bathroom breakdown. Naturally, Dream comes in and sees him naked AND snotty. It's a nightmare.

But Dream is... very very nice. He wipes Hob’s face for him, and wraps his arm around his shoulder. He comforts Hob with the knowledge that the novelty will soon wear off, and people will stop bothering him. Dream solemnly says that anyway, people only notice Hob because he's so sexy. He could always try being less sexy?

Hob finally laughs and leans against Dream because this is his one opportunity and he's not going to miss it. Dream starts rubbing little circles into the small of Hob’s back, and it's like the dam finally breaks.

Hob just about makes it through making his Malaysian curry (artfully splattered in his chest hair, as always) and when they wrap up for the day, Dream is still there. Waiting, this time. He diligently swipes the curry off Hob’s chest with his finger, and his eyes are even more smoldery up close.

It's probably inevitable. But Hob still can't quite believe it. Dream sucks him off in the bathroom where he was just crying!! He ducks underneath Hob’s apron and stays there until he's done, and Hob just knows that the apron will smell of sex and Dream forever now. He might have to take it home with him, actually.

Or maybe he'll just take Dream home instead. It's his night off, and he can always get a table for two at the restaurant. He won't be naked, but it only seems fair to finally give Dream something to unwrap!

[ghostiedreamsz]

[⚠️ Spoilers for the final episode of Demon Slayer Season 4 ahead ⚠️]

Demon Slayer has a tendency to go “hey lol” *emotionally fucks you up* on a regular basis without it seeming unfair to the narrative or the characters and honestly? Kinda based of them (taking shots at JJK here)

Like, Daki and Gyutaro walking into hell together fucked me up because Holy Shit what an emotional ass scene for two siblings who put their love for each other first even after their last moment bickering, and choose to walk into hell together

Nezuko’s almost death in Season 3 had me bawling TWO WHOLE TIMES: ONCE FOR HER HYPOTHETICAL DEATH AND TWICE AFTER I REALIZED SHE WAS GONNA BE OKAY

honorable mentions before I inevitably start screaming about Rengoku again:

Gyomei’s backstory! Which had me going “it was only supposed to be his kids dying. IT WAS ONLY SUPPOSED TO BE HIS KIDS DYING” the entire time because holy fuck what a deeply complex narrative about kids being unable to help their innocence when something beyond their comprehension occurs

Ubuyashiki’s daughters singing and playing in the yard shortly before their death! That whole scene was tense, but the pan over to the two girls playing innocently was like breaking open a dam of tears for me goddamn

The latest contender on the Demon Slayer soul crusher:

Tanjiro and Mitsuri staring into the dark fourth wall where Rengoku’s spirit had been standing and just…. Staying there. No happy Taisho Era Secret music. No sounds. No nothing. Just…

“You saw Rengoku too, didn’t you?”

“yeah…”

“we need to defeat Kibutsuji”

WHAT THE FUCK

[chaikachi]

You Don't See Me: Dojo Scene vs. Ruby's Breakdown

This episode was very powerful and was a long time coming. I don't have a lot of words in me to talk about it, but I did want to try and line up the parallels between these two scenes because the comparisons are very hard to ignore.

Lindsay Jones has gone on record multiple times stating that Ruby is someone whose "compartmentalization and internalization of her grief is what might eventually destroy her.” And we saw the dam break both figuratively (with Ruby's outburst) and literally (with the paper houses being flooded and washed away).

I had very few doubts in my mind about RG being endgame before this episode, but this volume continues to hammer it home despite, but also because of Oscar's absence. Ruby, who reached this breaking point by never feeling seen or supported by her team or her friends because there was always something else that had to take priority. Someone else who's feelings mattered more.

Ruby, who has only ever talked about her grief on screen without being interrupted once.

Oscar who was the only damn person to do it. To see through her mask and acknowledge just how hard this all is on her. I just. I gotta let the parallels speak for themselves.

Oscar: But this? Who would ask for this? - Ruby: Why do I have to be the leader anyway?

Ruby: If it had been me instead, I know they would have kept fighting too. No matter how dangerous it was. So that's what I choose to do. To keep moving forward. - Ruby: No time, right? Gotta get home! Gotta help Jaune! Gotta find someone who isn't just going to screw everything up! Gotta stay positive, right? Smiles all around!!

Ruby: We just have to press on and- Oscar: How can you be so confident? - Blake: Guys, I know things are bad but- Ruby: Shut up. Don't... do that. Just don't.

Oscar: How do you handle all of this? // How are you okay with any of this?! - Ruby: Why are you asking me? Because I'm the leader? Because I'm just supposed to have something to say? Cause I don't. I mean, why do I have to be the leader anyway? Why do I always have to be the one to pick people up?

Oscar: This must be really hard on her too... - Ruby: What about me?!

That last one paralleled to the new song lyric:

No, you don't see me anymore

Her friends and her team do care about her. I'm not arguing that. But none of them have been able to offer Ruby the support she's needed. None of them have been able to foster an environment where she feels safe enough to open up about these things. There have been a few times she tried but every single time she got cut off or interrupted by something more important or someone else's feelings who mattered more. She has been dealing with her own kind of loneliness all this time. All alone in crowded rooms.

Oscar was the only one that saw it right away. The only one that brought it up. That pushed her to talk about it. That has stood up for her time and time again when these instances keep happening.

And for now he's not around.

that! reunion! hug! is gonna! hit! like a! bus!!!!!!!!

[ibims1seb]

The silent treatment

TW: panic attack, implied past trauma, not described bad memories, a hell lot of comfort

Whumpee had always had these episodes. Times, where anything and everything was just… too much, and their body shut down completely to leave nothing but a shaking mess for the outside world to see. They’d usually just stay in their room and wait out until they could do something again. And usually, no one cared about that. Well, at least, no one came to check if they were ok or to ask, why they were staying here.

Today, the memories came a lot sooner. It was normally around the evening, when they were tired and couldn’t control their emotions. But today, it was in the late morning hours.

They were sitting at the edge of the bed, knees slightly apart so that their elbows could sit on them comfortably and their head was resting in their hands, prompting them to stare into the abyss of painful memories. Their entire body was trembling while they let the waves wash over them again and again and again.

They were so consumed by the flashbacks that they didn’t even hear the knocking. They didn’t notice the door open and only when Caretaker was crouched down right in front of their vision did Whumpee realise they were there in the first place.

The newcomer just looked up at them. They didn’t start a conversation, question what was going on, or told them that everything was okay. They were just there, and that was all they needed.

Without thinking, they leaned forward, closing their eyes and connecting their foreheads in a silent touch of comfort. The crouched figure just let that happen. The two sat in silence. A comfortable and gentle silence.

Usually, Whumpee wouldn’t cry during these episodes, but this wasn’t usual. And that was okay. So, they did nothing to stop the tears from spilling. They let it happen. And it actually felt good! It felt good to let the hidden emotions take their toll and let them wash over their body. It felt good to break down the dam.

After what felt like an hour, but was probably just some minutes, Caretaker spoke up with a soothing and gentle voice: “Is it ok if I touch you?”

They weren’t sure why they asked, but that didn’t matter right now. They nodded, first hesitantly, then with a little bit more enthusiasm. The other just smiled at that before moving his hands towards his shoulders, stopping to talk again.

“I’ll touch your shoulders now,” they warned, and with a grip as light as feathers, they guided Whumpee’s broken form towards the bed, laying them down completely. At first they didn’t realise what they were trying to do, but when they did, they happily complied.

When they were fully laying on their side, they could no longer help it. Through the tears, the sobs and the trembling they smiled at the other. It was the only way they could think to thank them.

Caretaker smiled as well, and that was the last thing they saw before their body, exhausted from the overwhelming feelings, slipped off into blissful sleep.

———

Wanted to do this with two of my Ocs, but my Oc stuff doesn’t get acknowledged as much as my other stuff so here is a prompt! Lemme know if you would like to see what I would have done with the Ocs :)

Masterlist

[todorroki]

Love Sea ep 8 thoughts

yall i'm gonna watch next week's ep with my vision partially obscured LMAOOO i know what's gonna go down and i'm dreading it (EXCEPT for fort throwing hands i'd like to see that)

i am Living for the mutrak cuddles. is it because we're gonna get pain next ep that they're laying all the sweet moments down rn LMAO

rak and vi are so so similar it's no wonder they're friends. vi refusing to outright tell mook that she likes her, and rak refusing to admit he's in love with mut. the parallels go crazy with these two. not to mention rak telling vi to go home this episode mirroring vi telling rak to go home back in ep 6.

i LOVE this shot of mut and meena so much. they're so similar it's endearing. also nina is such a strong actress. her growth will only make her better, and i hope she goes so far.

now, about the GL side story, i'm glad we're getting a lot more than the book gave. like YES they got a whole makeout scene and the ending credits this time!! i'm just very sad for mook. she is obviously into vi, but thinks vi is just playing around with her. like their whole problem could be solved if vi just said she liked mook. classic misunderstanding plot.

swerving back to mutrak, my god.... the way this scene is so erotic despite them both being full clothed. we didn't get any nc this ep, but mut pinning rak down and telling him he'll fuck him until he can't think of anyone else!!! that whole scene was so hot. that feather light touch on rak's neck... mut telling rak to Say what he wants yea.. the kinky d/s dynamic goes crazy with these two

AND the way fp just devour each other during kiss scenes... yeah mhmm i'm not recovering ever

yall fort's arm is so thick in love sea. my god like i don't think peat's hands r very small either (BUT IDK i've never seen him irl i wouldn't know). anyways the way they're holding each other is kinda driving me nuts sorry

dam.. and they're always just kissing each other like that.

be so fr mmy are yall putting extra nc scenes in the boxset. SPEAK INTO THE MIC.

i think it's so crazy an abusive absent father is trying to tell his son's man to break up with him bc he isn't "good enough" like damn what gives you the right?? like mut said, why should he listen to jak LMAO even jak's reasons were very weak to me.

also, production. why do that dramatic phone screen cracking to hell if you're just gonna make rak pick up a perfectly fine unbroken screen in the next shot ? is it just.. a figurative shattering of the screen to parallel the shattered glass of rak's past? that was a slightly weird way to have the scene play out but ok. i guess. peat's terrified-traumatized acting goes so hard as always.

no spoilers but the main conflict and its resolution is so.... hm. let's just say the way it plays out is not my favorite, though i'm always open to my opinion changing depending on how it's done in the series. i've been enjoying the way the series handles the novel scenes so far. ANYWAYS pain train until like the second half of ep 10 me thinks, and i'm dreading it a little LMAO i know fp are gonna make it hurt 100x more than the novel bc they're good at that.

[heartshyuck]

Die for me 

pairing: haechan x reader 

genre: ANGST, thriller/horror, some fluff ig, established relationship, magic au. 

synopsis: Grief leads to desperation and fear. Haechan can no longer handle the grief that eats away at him. He’ll do anything to bring you back to his side, even if it means to defy death. 

word count: 7k

warnings: death, smut but it’s … not?, manic episodes (funeral mania), delusion, hypo mania, blood, violence, rituals to bring back the dead, distorted bodies, suicide, self harm and profanities. 

a/n: this is my first fic after a while! Of course it’s a hyuck fic but because it’s been so long I apologise if it’s a little rusty. This fic actually made me sob lol, like full on ugly cry. Now what I mean by smut but not smut is that it happening but like bro wtf is happening yk. If you don’t get it then you’ll see, minors please dni. It has a lot of dark themes, don’t read if you’re not fully comfortable reading about all the warnings. 

Grief is an ugly emotion. All consuming and rooted into the depths of your bones, muscles deteriorating and flesh being eaten away - it rots you whole but it does not change you. Grief only reveals what is the worst of you, stripped down to your core. Desperate. It feels like fear.

Stage one: denial

Haechan sits in your shared apartment, or what used to be. His hands twisting and turning the silver band that weighs heavy on his finger. His eyes, red and drooping but still tears manage to fall slowly despite the sting. He stares at your ring that now lies on the table, its once matching silver band now coated in a crust of dried blood. The images of your lifeless body lying on the road resurface and a new fresh wave of tears break the dam once more. His breath becomes heavy, fast and uncontrollable, he lets out a sob - lips quivering. His face is contoured by pain that lies heavy in his chest, a pain that forms a numbness, emptiness. He cries until he tires, eyes drooping and red, they finally close - the cycle continues.

The doorbell rings again. Haechan is still in his suite from the funeral when he rubs his eyes awake. His head pounding and ears ringing, he looks around to see where he is and he’s still lying on the couch. “______” he calls out, getting up to find the bedroom empty, “_____” he calls again as he heads to the door, the doorbell still ringing. “_____?” he questions as he swings the door open, only to find Mark with a deep frown on his face.

“Hey” Haechan says, yawning, rubbing his eyes that are still sore. “Come in” he says, opening the door wider for Mark to step in. “_____ isn’t home right now, must have gone out to go get something.” and Marks frown only deepens, his eyes watery and he stares at Haechan as if he’s hurt. “What’s wrong?”

“Hyuck” Mark’s voice cracks, his lips quivering

“What’s wrong?” Haechan panics “Mark what is it?” but the older doesn't answer, tears streaming down his face “What is it?” Haechan’s jaw is tight and the words struggle through as he grows impatient, fear settling in the pit of his stomach. “Mark!”

“_____’s gone” he says crashing into him, arms engulfing Haechan

“What do you mean gone?” He says in a small unsure chuckle

“She’s gone, Hyuck. She died two days ago” he sobs and Haechan’s legs give way below him, dropping to his knees, he shakes as the tears come back once again and Mark’s still holding on to him.

“This is a sick joke Mark” Haechan tries to even his breathing, “seriously not funny” he sniffles and Mark only pulls him in closer, holds him tighter. “Where’s ______?” Mark doesn’t answer, shivering with sobs that echo throughout his body, “Mark?!” Haechan’s voice is desperate and broken. “Please” he begs.

Mark can only shake his head, gripping onto Haechan’s suit jacket, “She’s gone.” He repeats again and again until the words swirl around in the air, Haechan’s mind going dizzy and his vision blurring with tears, his breathing shallows and his heart aches.

Haechan wakes up in his bed this time, shoes kicked off , jacket and tie thrown onto the floor - there’s no sight of you or Mark who he remembers being here. His head is pounding but he doesn't remember drinking, he presses the base of his palms into his eyes trying to get rid of the soreness. He grabs for his phone that’s on the bedside table and displays it’s eleven pm, and he turns to his side to see your side of the bed is still empty. “______?” he calls out but there’s no response, you must be wearing your headphones he thinks. Sighing, his body heavy, he swings his legs out of bed to search for you.

“_____” He calls out again as he enters into the living room where he expects to find you on the floor, papers sprawled out in front of you, laptop on the coffee table and you furiously typing away and he’d probably have to drag you away from your work and into bed. You’ll insist that you’ll be finished in five more minutes but you both know that’s a lie. He’ll ask if you have eaten anything and you’d guiltily shake your head, so Haechan would head into the kitchen and make the bargain that you could work until he came back with food, then after you’d have to eat and join him in bed. But you’re not there.

Maybe you’re coming late from work, he thinks and makes his way back into the bedroom to call you. It rings once, twice, three times, four times, five times and then finally “Hello” Haechan smiles, “Hey Hyuck! Nah i’m just kidding, this is my voicemail loser! Leave me a message if it’s important, love you” You voice says back to him and no matter how annoying it is, Haechan can’t help but smile when he hears it. “I love you too” is all he leaves in his message.

There’s one more person to call when you go awol like this, head buried in work forgetting that there’s a life outside of that office of yours. “Hey Jaemin” Haechan says as the rings finally stop

“Hey hyuck” Jaemin’s words are careful, his voice solemn.

“Is ______ at the office still? It’s pretty late and I’m guessing you’re still there too because you’re just as bad as her” Haechan laughs but Jaemin stays quiet.

“No she’s not here.” Jaemin says softly after some time.

“That’s strange” Hyuck replies, a little worried.

“How about I come by?” Jaemin offers

“Sure?”

It’s close to midnight by the time the door rings and Haechan jumps up hoping you forgot your keys but once he swings the door open, his smile drops upon seeing Jaemin standing there instead.

“Come on, I’m not that bad” Jaemin offers a small smile. “How are you doing?” he asks, carefully

“I’m okay” Haechan says as he lets him, leading him into the living room, “worried where _____ is though, I called her parents but they just said I shouldn’t be alone right now and told me to drive down.” He shrugs confused.

“Maybe you should take that offer?” Jaemin lifts an eyebrow “or go to your parents, I know your mum wants you back”

“Maybe but they’re acting weird, I’m not sure what it is really” Haechan says as he drops onto the couch “I’ll talk about it with _____ and see if she wants to go this weekend” he yawns and at his words Jaemin grimaces.

“You want to spend the night at mine? Come on I insist” Jaemin pushes

“I’d love to but ______ isn’t home yet.”

“Hyuck” Jaemin sighs

“What?”

“_______ is dead.”

“I don’t know why you and Mark think this is funny but seriously this needs to stop” Haechan sighs

“Get up. Now!” Jaemin pull Haechan off the couch, “put your shoes and jacket on”

“Jaemin seriously I’m not going anywhere until ______ comes back”

“I’m taking you to her”

The drive was silent, Jaemin didn’t say where you were but Haechan got into the car without hesitation, it felt like years he’d spent away from you. The only sound that filled the silence was the splashing of rain against the surface of the car. The windshield wipers are relentless in their work, continuously wiping again and again but to no avail as the rain too is relentless.

Jaemin stops the car outside a graveyard and fear rises in Haechan “What are we doing here?” he asks in a panic but Jaemin doesn’t answer, instead turning to open the door he walks out and waits for Haechan to follow him. “Jaemin?” he calls out after him as he follows him through the rows of graves “Jaemin! Answer me!”

“No you listen to me!” He turns as he screams; rain drenching him, his hair sticks to his forehead. He grabs Haechan’s shirt, pulling him closer and turning him towards the headstone that reads __________, beloved daughter and wife. “She’s gone and she’s not coming back” Jaemin cries as he shakes him. Haechan stares at your name etched onto the stone and his mind swirls, his eyes blur and reality finally falls into place. He pushes Jaemin off of him, falls to his knees, and an ugly sob ripples through him.

“She’s gone hyuck but she wouldn’t want you to live like this. It’s time you accept it, to remember the amazing person she was and why you fell in love with her and then learn to live without her. You have to accept this so you can heal. Jaemin says as he falls beside Haechan, rubbing up and down his back - trying to comfort him.

“I can’t heal.” Haechan chokes out “I don’t want to”

"Grief is all that untold love that you have for her and you told her you loved her everyday. It's love being preserved" Jaemin whispers

And Haechan feels the cold settle in his bones, the rain washed off his face by the steady stream of tears. His throat closes up, his mind fills with fog and he goes dizzy. His heart stops beating

Denial is protection from the pain that follows after. When you finally come to terms with what has happened, finally comprehend the loss in your life; guilt rises up and eats your consciousness away. Your mind goes from delusion to fixation, constantly thinking about that day. What could have been different? How could you have stopped this? Who’s fault was this?

Stage two: pain and guilt

Haechan’s at Jaemin’s place tonight, the doctors advised it’s best not to be alone during difficult times. He doesn’t want to be constantly doted on by his mother, constantly asking if he was okay when she knew he wasn’t - impatient to see him heal. He couldn’t take up your parent’s offer, everything about that house reminds him of you, it was you; where you grew up, where he first kissed you, where he asked you to prom and where he asked you to marry him.

Under the apple tree at the far end of the garden, the swing your dad put up one summer still hanging onto the branches and it was after dinner with your parents. You sat on the swing as Haechan pushed you, he didn’t plan it and you hadn’t spoken about it but he knew in that moment with the moon breaking through your hair, the most beautiful smile on your face as you laughed at something stupid he had said, he knew this was it. You were the one. The question fell from his lips clumsily. “Will you marry me?” he sounded uncertain, as if he was asking himself and your laughter halted, you turned with eyes wide and glossy but when you asked “are you serious?” He didn't need time to think and he didn’t hesitate. “Yes.” he replied in an instant “will you marry me?” this time more confidently and you pressed your lips to him muttering a yes against him.

The memory burns him, the pit in his chest fills with fire and spreads throughout his body with an ache that leaves him paralysed. Jaemin is no better than his mother really, taking days off of work to look after Haechan, cooking his favourite food - constantly doting - but at least he doesn’t ask if Haechan is okay, if he’s feeling better or telling him that time heals all and that things will get better. Haechan doesn’t believe they will and Jaemin knows that.

“The doctors prescribed these for when you have” Jaemin pauses “ an episode” he places the capsule into the draw of the bedside table

“A manic episode” Haechan corrects him but Jaemin brushes it off

“It’s Sunday.” Jaemin says as he pulls the curtains back “You want to go to the florist and deliver ______ her flowers?” He smiles as the sun rays flood the room. Jaemin introduced Haechan to you, all the way back in middle school when Haechan was still a rambling mess when it came to talking to a pretty girl but Jaemin thought you two were made for each other - even back then. It was a Sunday morning and Jaemin had stayed over at Haechan’s convincing him to go out and pick a sunflower out of his mother’s garden, which he later got told off for but it was worth it when he delivered it to your door and you had taken it after placing a kiss on Haechan’s cheek. Every sunday after that Haechan would pick a sunflower to give to you, when you moved in together a vase of them was waiting for you on the kitchen counter. Every sunday.

Haechan only nods in response, no matter if the promise was death do us part, his love for you was alive and it was the only thing he was sure of.

Haechan has visited this florist countless times but this time he can’t seem to step foot inside, to see the people he’d see and speak to about you. The woman at the back who’d cut and arranged every bouquet he’d bought, who’d ask how you were? Her husband who assisted her, who had given Haechan advice for every time you would get into an argument and he’d come here to buy an apology flower, and their daughter at the till, who had given many bunches for free, saying she couldn’t capitalise on love.

“I can’t do it” Haechan turned to Jaemin

“Slow steps” He replied with a smile before stepping in, the small bell announcing his entrance and the daughter at the till suddenly straightened, her head looking towards the customer who had just entered and she greets Jaemin with a familiar smile and it pains Haechan, just how much of his life were you ingrained in? When Jaemin has been invited into the back to pick out the flowers he wants, she spots Haechan and she waves, a small smile painted across her face and he waves back. She picks a small bouquet of white chrysanthemums - symbol of death- and places them around a single sunflower.

And the bell announces her arrival, “I’m sorry for your loss” she says with a soft voice, her arm extended for Haechan to take the flowers. His vision blurs with tears but he focuses it enough for him to take them from her.

“Thank you” he says, choking on the lump that forms in his throat.

“You’re welcome” She mumbles but the sob escapes regardless and she wraps her arms around Haechan and he hugs her back, a small fraction of his pain reflected

“Tell her I said hi” she says before she heads back in, Jaemin waiting for her by the till.

“She refused to let me pay” Jaemin says as he steps out

“Of course she did,” Haechan smiles, wiping his cheeks and waving one last time through the window.

“Let’s go” Jaemin urges, leading the way.

“Hey ______” Jaemin says as he sits in front of your grave, pulling Haechan with him. “I brought Hyuck with me like I promised you last week and he bought you flowers like he promised he would.” he says, placing down his separate bouquet of flowers. “I miss you at work, everyone does but especially me. I miss talking shit about everyone with you, Renjun isn’t as fun. I miss driving you home and I miss seeing you smiling stupidly at my best friend” he laughs “I miss you” he mumbles. Haechan hasn’t seen Jaemin cry for you but he supposes it’s because of him he doesn’t but Jaemin can’t help the tears that drop, which he is quick to wipe away. “I’ll let the idiot speak to you now, I’m sure he has a lot to say” Jaemin stands and walks away to leave Haechan alone with you.

“I suppose I owe you an apology” Haechan says as he places the flowers down “I’m not taking this well but I suppose you know that. You always did say I’d be hopeless without you.” Haechan’s eyes begin to well with tears once more “I just can’t help wondering what if I had picked you up from work instead or what if your boss hadn’t kept you back an hour later.” His voice breaks “I just play that day out in my head and wonder what I could have done to stop it from happening or to at least stop it from happening to you.” he lets out a deep sigh and sniffles “I miss you so much ______. I love you so much. I don’t know how I’m supposed to just live on, when my life was supposed to be spent with you. I can’t. I can’t do this without you.”

Haechan joins Jaemin a while after and a silence fills in as guilt rises in Haechan, towards you and Jaemin. “You know” he starts off as Jaemin begins to walk ahead and he hums in encouragement for Hyuck to carry on, “you don’t need to hide your emotions because of me.” he says quietly, guilty “This must be hard for you too, you were her best friend too … you loved her too” Haechan says looking at the park across the road and there’s a long silence as if Jaemin is contemplating what to say next.

“I’m not hiding my emotions” he finally breaks the silence, “I’m not that considerate of you” he laughs and pauses. “Don’t feel guilty. You’re my best friend too and I love you too. I’m going to be here for you as long as you need” he smiles and it warms Haechan, the slightest glimmer of happiness but it’s almost instantly stopped out by guilt - that he could be happy without you.

“We should get everyone together” Jaemin says, “Just the guys. They’ve been dy-” he clears his throat “begging to see you” he corrects himself. “I didn’t let them because I thought you needed some time to yourself before you were suffocated in hugs” Jaemin let out a small laugh, looking to Haechan to read his expression.

“Thanks, I appreciate it” And Haechan really does, without Jaemin he probably would be sprawled out on his apartment floor, still looking for you. “And yeah, we should have them round”

When enough guilt builds up and you feel guilty for even hurting, for even feeling any pain because you’re alive. Your life wasn’t stolen from you. Because you’ve laughed and you haven’t lived every moment in dread and sorrow. When enough guilt has built up that you wish you were dead and then you feel guilty about that. That’s when the anger settles in.

Stage three: Anger

Haechan thought he was doing well. He thought he was getting better. He thought that maybe, just maybe, he could do this. Yet seeing all these faces, so familiar and so comforting just made it more clear that something was missing. Someone. He looks around the room to see Jisung and Chenle fighting over what movie to watch tonight and he could just imagine you ruffling their hair and telling them we could watch them both. He watches Jaemin cook with Jeno trying to assist and you’d tease him saying that he’s only by Jaemin’s side so he could eat whilst they cook. Renjun and Mark would be setting the table and you’d be helping, dragging Haechan up to go wash glasses to bring to the table. This was Haechan’s family.

But now sitting around the table with the empty seat beside him, where you would have sat. He doesn’t think he can do this anymore. Everyone laughs and talks as if nothing has changed and he’s sure they’re just trying to be normal but they do it so effortlessly. The only thing giving them away is their careful eyes, hovering over him and he hates them. Hates being watched like he’s in a cage in the zoo, just waiting for him to do something. He hates that they’re careful with what they say, not mentioning you but he would hate it if they did because the pain would burn brighter in his chest. He feels guilty that he doesn’t want them to have a good time, he feels guilty that he doesn’t want them to talk about you and celebrate you, he feels guilty that he feels at home when you’re not here and he feels guilty that he wishes he had died instead and it was you who had to live with this pain.

The noise is too much, the laughs are too much and they were all too much. “I can’t do this” Haechan whispers and no one seems to hear or notice. “I just can't,” he says a little louder and only Jaemin turns his head, a little concerned look on his face as if to ask if Haechan is okay and Haechan looks back hopeless and lost. “I can’t do this” He sobs and now all heads turn to him. The laughter stops, the noise falls into silence. The silence is too much.

Haechan grips onto his fork, knuckles turning white and he holds his lip in his teeth to bite back a sob and he draws blood, his teeth sinking in. He’s shaking and tears are already falling and they all look at him, stunned - wide eyed and shocked. As if he was something else. Haechan bangs his fists on the table, again and again as he chants “I can’t do this” and he gets louder and louder until he’s standing on his feet. “I CAN’T DO THIS!” he shouts, shaking.

Jaemin slowly makes his way to him, placing a hand around his shoulder. “It’s okay, slow steps” he whispers and it irks Haechan, sending his skin shivering as it crawls up his neck and into his ears. Slow steps is all he’s been hearing but he can’t even take those. He pushes Jaemin off him, hard enough to have him staggering back a little and then he punches him. Once, then twice and Jaemin doesn’t fight back and it pisses Haechan off more, so he tries to punch him again but someone’s caught his arm, pulling him off and pinning him down. He struggles against the arms pushing him down, kicking his legs and pulling away at the intense grip - he manages to break free. There's shouting and screaming, ringing in his ears and his eyes blur into white as the noise begins to fade. Silence; that is too much.

Haechan waves his arms around trying to find something. Anything. His fingers brush against something smooth, cold and he grabs it, water spilt down his arm. He smashes it against the floor again and again, beating it. The glass cuts through his skin, wedges itself in, water mixing with blood. More restraints pull at him, he punches blindly until one hits. Haechan screams as the noise finally floods back in, as his hands throb and his heart aches. A pill thrown in the back of his throat, water invading his mouth and he’s forced to swallow.

“No!” he pulls free once more, shoving two fingers down the back of his throat, retching to try and get the pill back out but his body goes lax, mind clears and eyes droop down.

There’s a bright white light burning into the back of Haechan’s eyelids, strong enough to wake him from his slumber. He has the urge to rub his eyes open but he can’t seem to move. His body is sore, tired and he can’t fight the restraints holding him down as his wrists are tied to the bed. Haechan’s in a hospital, he knows he is because he knows that smell - overly clean. He spent days in here, holding on to your hand, praying you’d wake up. He spent every night here, sleeping by your side because he couldn’t sleep without you at home.

“You’re awake!” An unfamiliar voice says “He’s awake!” their voice gets further and Haechan tries to move to sit up but his body won’t respond.

“Stop struggling” now that’s a voice Haechan recognises but not one he expected to hear anytime soon. The bed moves up with the click of the button and Haechan now sits up and can finally see Jaemin’s face. Bruised and slightly swollen, he has a few cuts - one by his lip and another by his eyebrow.

“I got you good” Haechan says in an awkward laugh, not knowing where their relationship stands now. Jaemin laughs too, deep and loud and it’s comforting to know that even after all this, Jaemin is still here beside him.

“I let you win, I didn’t fight back.” and Haechan knows that but he still says

“Didn’t or couldn’t” Haechan lifts a brow, smiling.

“Whatever. I look hotter like this, even got a nurse's number” he smiles back and Hyuck snorts as Jaemin waves around the small piece of paper.

An uncomfortable silence fills the room after the conversation dies and Haechan supposes he owes Jaemin an apology but he isn’t sure it’s enough. There’s still that anger that sits at the bottom of his stomach, embers coming to light and will burn his whole body again. Is there any point in asking for forgiveness when you know it’s going to happen again? And just as Haechan was about to open his mouth, Jaemin spoke first.

“Don’t apologise” he says calmly “we both know why it happened and it doesn’t excuse you being an asshole but I am going to be more understanding. I also told you that I’ll be here until you need me, so don’t think I’m going anywhere.” and Haechan smiles at his words, nodding slightly.

There’s a knock at the door interrupting the conversation, the doctor entering. “Hello, Mr. Lee. It’s nice to see you in better conditions.” “How long was I out for?”

“Three days” and Haechan’s eyes widen “Manic episodes tend to last for five day, sometimes more and sometimes less. We thought it was best to keep you under strong sedatives.” The doctor explains “we recommend you see a therapist to help with your grieving, we understand this is a difficult time for you but we hope to see you better and this seems like a good option. Consider it.” The doctor says before he leaves.

“You should” Jaemin says as the doctor walks out the room “just try it” he says when Haechan gives him a sceptical look “also your mum flew into the city” Jaemin warns as he gets up “She’s waiting outside. I didn’t let her in because I didn’t want you to get overwhelmed and we all know how she is but you know she loves me so she took to reasoning” Jaemin says in a smile “I’ll go get her”

And once you’re too tired to be angry anymore, you begin to bargain. Trying to find a way to make life a little more bearable, to subside the guilt and anger, to contain it. You look to cope.

Stage four: Bargaining and depression 

Haechan has moved back home, even after it was clear that Jaemin held no hard feelings; it just felt wrong to burden him with that again. Haechan was scared of himself, scared he’d lash out again and hurt Jaemin and just how many times is Jaemin going to take it. He’s scared of losing him too. Scared that Jaemin would fear him.

Also his mum had come into the city, Jaemin couldn’t house the both of them, though he insisted he’d sleep on the floor. The apartment still smelled like you and in a way it comforted him, you were home. Though Haechan’s mum immediately replaced that with the smell of her cooking and that was home too.

“Donghyuck” she called as he stared down at his phone, swiping through old pictures of the two of you, the therapist that Haechan had been seeing had suggested looking through them whenever he missed you, to live in those memories, a temporary solution to try and contain the manic episodes. Problem is, he missed you every waking second, he missed you in his dreams. “Hyuck!” she called again

“I’m coming!” he groans, feeling as if he was seventeen all over again.

Dinner was great, Haechan hadn't seen his mum in a few months and he felt as if he was in highschool, scolded and adored all at once. His mum was careful not to mention you but she loves reminiscing and you're in every story.

"Okay last story" she giggles and Haechan smiles as they sit with their plates empty in front of them.

"You said that two stories ago" he laughs "and I don't know who you're telling, I lived through them all"

"I know" she hums, moving around a few cold vegetables with her fork "but I love telling them and there isn't a whole lot of people to tell them too. And this one isn't even a proper story!"

"Last one." Haechan smiles

"Okay." She claps her hands "Remember when you were first dating _____" and she says it carefully but her excitement overrides it. Haechan loves watching her speak about you, the way his mother's eyes bright up and her lips just lift into a smile. She did always adore you.

"Of course" he smiles

"She gave you that nickname", Haechan, "and you refused to be called by anything else" she laughs "and back then I thought that it was childish love and you were being a young kid drunk on infatuation but then I met her and when she would say your name," Haechan's heart inflated at the memory, the way you would say haechan or hyuck was as if you gave it a whole new meaning. When you said his name it meant love, adoration and warmth.

"It was the way she spoke to you and the way you gave her all your attention. I knew from that moment that she'd shape who you were." And Haechan’s mum takes a deep breath trying to calm herself . "I must have sent you to go get something but it was just me and ______. All we spoke about was you. It was all she ever wanted to speak about with me" she snickers "she made me so proud of the man you were growing up to be, I just want to remind you that that amazing man was there before you met her." She smiles. "Anyway, it's getting late" she stands and takes both their plates, heading to the kitchen.

"You know mum," Haechan follows her with two glasses in hand "I'm pretty sure ______ fell in love with me because I was amazing" he grins

"You owe it all to me" she giggles

"I was gonna say, dad" and she hits the back of his head causing him to yelp "I'm kidding" he says as he braces for another hit.

"You better be" she scoffs and Haechan laughs, a true laugh and one he doesn't feel so guilty about. He kisses his mum on the cheek "Goodnight" he wishes her before they both separate into their rooms.

Haechan's phone rings as soon as he closes the door behind him, as if on cue. "Hey" Haechan says as he presses the phone against his ear.

"Hey" Jaemin, sounds too enthusiastic for eleven pm "how are you doing?" He asks carefully and this is how it is. Straight after breakfast, Mark will call to check how Haechan is feeling - if he isn't feeling too well then Jisung will call in less than ten minutes for him to hop online and play with him, that would keep him busy until late afternoon. Jeno would then call quickly, followed by Renjun, who's phone calls always seem to last longer than necessary. Then Chenle would either show up with dinner or ask to go out, if he's busy he'll just drop in a few texts. Then finally once the day is done, Jaemin calls to make sure everything is okay. Haechan appreciates it he really does, having such a supportive and caring friend group but he feels like he's on a twenty four hour watch. Everyone waiting for another episode. Everyone, trying to catch the signs to make sure they can stop it.

"I'm good. Played basketball with Chenle and kicked Jisung's ass in overwatch again." And Jaemin laughs

"Go easy on the kid, let him win sometimes"

And Haechan blows air out of his lips and scoffs "As if. It's not a win, if I let him"

"Is this coming from the same person who claims they beat the shit outta me when i wasn't even fighting back" and Haechan goes quiet "I thought so" Jaemin snickers. "Anyways I was just checking in. How's your mum by the way?"

"She's good. Loves being with me obviously"

"Obviously" Haechan can practically hear Jaemin roll his eyes. "You thought about going back to work?"

"Maybe?" He says uncertain "I'm not so sure though"

"Slow steps" Jaemin says in a yawn

"We should head to bed" Haechan whispers remembering the time

"We should. I'll call again tomorrow, night"

"Night" Haechan says before hanging up. Sighing, he falls on the bed and closes his eyes. He sees you.

Figure laying beside him, hair messy and intertwined between his fingers. He pulls at it and you moan, leaning closer towards him and hungrily capturing his lips in a desperate kiss. Your eyes are hooded as you climb on top of him - sheltering his body with your own. Everything fades as you bring your lips back to his once more, warmth engulfing him, every cell in his body shivering with fuzzy pleasure. Your hands roam lower, down his chest and abdomen, he bites his bottom lip holding on to his last bit of sanity. But he’s going over the edge as the euphoria has his eyes rolling back as you wrap your lips and make their way down his body. He’s shivering and begging for more. It’s too much and not enough. Your touch is ice but his body reacts like fire, a fever burning its way down his body. He is stickenly in love with you. His eyes roll back as your mouth makes your way around him. His breathing shallows, his mind scrambles as he holds onto the back of your head. Thrusting up, faster, harder as he meets you in the middle. He watches you worshipping him between his legs, tongue swirling and pulling him to the edge and his mind is reeling to hold on. Just a little bit longer. Only to stay with you for a few more minutes.

So he pulls you up, lips meeting once more with your tongues fighting against each other, teeth clashing. He presses himself into you as if to hope he can find home in your skin, bruising your lips and taking all the air from your lungs. You position yourself on top of him, fast and rapid movements bringing you both to a euphoric trance and Haechan’s eyes are closed. He can hear you, soft moans finding their way out of you. He can feel you, tight and warm wrapped around him. Smell you, the addictive smell of your body he presses his face into the side of your neck as he meets you halfway. “open your eyes” you say softly in his ears and he shakes his head. “Open them Hyuck, look at me” you moan louder.

And when Haechan finally pries his eyes open, the room is empty and the white sticks to his abdomen and palm.

Haechan flinches at the sight coating him, he withers in the after lasting pleasure and shivers with slight disgust at himself but he can’t help that his body yearns for yours. His body itches with desire, aggravated within its own skin and seeking only your soothing touch or your melodic voice.

He needs just a part of you.

He holds the phone to his ear. One ring. He knows it won’t go through but for a moment he’ll let himself pretend. Two rings. That you’ll pick up, all excited and happy; ready to tell him about your day or how much you miss him. Three rings. Even if you don’t pick up he’ll hear your voicemail anyways.

Four rings.

Five.

Six.

Sev-

“Hyuck?”

and Haechan can’t breathe. His lungs have ceased their ability to pull in air, and no matter how hard he tries to inhale they’re already full. Yet his mind spins, his eyes spot with black.

“Hyuck” you call out again “breathe”

But he doesn’t. He can’t.

“Haechan” your voice comes out strangled, broken and scratchy. “We’re running out of time” you warn, impatient. “Answer me!” The voice comes out deep, a ringing in the back and goosebumps make the way to the surface of Haechan’s skin.

“Yes” he gulps past the lump in his throat, getting air in his lungs finally.

“Save me” your voice returns, slow and loving. “You can save me”

“How?” Haechan doesn’t hesitate, “I need you ______” he begs, tears already dropping down his face. “I can’t live on in this suffering” sobs breaking through, he’s hunched over and saliva drips onto his hand as he holds it over his mouth. He shudders and sniffles, face contorted in pain.

“Death is the release of all suffering” you say, voice slightly distorted. “but we were never suffering. You can bring me back.”

Haechan stills.

Reality is shocking. After so long being stuck within your pain, your feelings and in your head, it feels like being splashed with cold water. The reality is, death will always have a presence in life. It is the only thing in life that is promised.

Stage five: 

“I feel great!” Haechan is sitting opposite Mark and Jaemin at a coffee shop downtown. It’s been a while since he went out and he almost missed his favourite time of the year. Spring. The time for new beginnings and life. Haechan was ready. “I’m going back to work soon, I’ve been thinking about it”

“That’s great dude” Mark smiles

“And I think I’m gonna go through ________’s stuff too”

“You sure?” Jaemin asks

“Yeah I think it’s time”

“You can take more time you know hyuck” Mark says

“I know but I feel like I’ve already taken up so much time and it’s time to finally move forward” Haechan sighs and the conversation stills, Jaemin and Mark clearly have something to say but fidget and side eye each other uncomfortably. “I’m gonna head back home” Haechan announces, this conversation coming to a statement, and him not having the energy to hash out problems.

“Sure” Mark says awkwardly “bye”

“I’ll walk with you” Jaemin gets up

The walk is silent. Haechan can feel Jaemin staring at him, eyes heavy on his figure. He doesn’t say anything because everything feels like a test, if he’s going to break or not. Haechan is sick of failing but not too confident in his words. He also doesn’t want to lash out at Jaemin.

“Are you okay?” Jaemin breaks the silence

“Great” Haechan says through closed teeth

“Yeah seems so” Jaemin says but an underlying tone confuses Haechan.

“What does that mean?” It’s comes out more aggressive than Haechan intended

“You seem happy”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

Jaemin takes time to respond, silent until they finally reach Haechan’s apartment complex. “Sorry.” He apologises first “it is a good thing, I’m just being over cautious” he laughs awkwardly rubbing the back of his head.

“Don’t worry about me anymore”

“I’ll always worry. Especially now that your mums gone back home”

“Worry about me less” Haechan pats his shoulder “thanks for everything over these past few months, I’m sorry and I love you” Haechan doesn’t specify what he’s apologising for but Jaemin can take a guess.

“It’s what friends are for” Jaemin shrugs “love you too” he says taking him into a hug and Haechan melts into his embrace, eyes watering up but he blinks them away.

“Bye” Haechan breathes out and Jaemin waves walking away.

The house is empty. The blinds are drawn. There’s a faint lining of ash along the floor and along the windowsill candles burn low. Haechan takes off his shirt and slumps down onto the floor. He breathes in deep before taking the knife and slashing it against his palms. Digging his fingers into the wound, he dips them in blood and drags his finger along the floor to paint a pentagram. He places a candle on each point, and lights them.

Haechan begins slashing more skin, blood dripping and merging with his painting until the neat drawn out lines are slighting blurring together. He walks back towards the kitchen, grabbing at coal by the stove. The black rock is coated in his blood. He places it on the fire. He turns back towards the pentagram.

He sits and waits. His head spinning and throbbing. He sees you emerging from the fire, screaming and crying as you reach out a hand for him to reach and he does. Heat kicking away at his skin, he smells his skin melting away. He hears you calling him, your sweet voice taking his mind off the pain. His stomach lurches, his chest tightens as he comes closer. His legs smear at the blood as he sits within the pentagram, both hands I’ve the fire of two candles, the other knocked over and holding their flames against him.

He begins to wretch and gag, bile rising up and saliva flooding his mouth. He spills the contents of his stomach out onto himself. He heaves and retches again and again, falling to his side, spreading along the floor turning pink as it mixes with the blood. His eyes are heavy, he no longer knows where he is, he sees you smiling. He sees a younger you in middle school, still shy and still only talking to Jaemin. He sees you in highschool, more confident and still radiant as you giggle at whatever stupid thing he said, he sees you ok that swing looking up at him the moon beaming on your face. His mind goes blank, his body goes lax.

Death is the release of all suffering.

a/n: thank you for reading until the end! It been a long long time since I have put something out (I feel like I've come back from the dead) I do hope to write and put out a lot more this year and do have a lot planned but I won’t say much else bc I'm bad at sticking to my word. Sorry this one is disturbingly depressing but happy hyuck soon! Thank you once again for reading my writing <3

© (heartshyuck) 2023. All Rights Reserved.

[hergrandplan]

"I'll carry you home fuck you duncan", I saw this title and I was immediately intrigued haha. I was like oh well I need to know more about this one, like would this break my heart or not😅

aslkgjgasdkgsd okay first of, yes, it might break your heart but it also might never be published, not in this way at least, so no fear! (unless I decide to indeed rewrite it then maybe a bit fear lol)

(also this is for @bigalockwood and @enjoythesilentworld as well bc they asked about this too <3 )

But basically this was one of the ways I coped during the Week from Hell between episode 5 and episode 6. That week, I coped in two ways: one, by writing fluffy fanfic about a certain boy getting a heart tattooed on his hand and two, by convincing myself that whatever happened at the end of episode 5 was not a break-up. To the point where I was a bit delulu about it, but I was so so convinced that it wasn't a break-up that I tried to write that scene out just to be like "see! Simon's not breaking up with him, becasue he can say that and then this" only, as I was writing it, I was struck with the horrible realization that there was no way Simon could say that and not have it be a break-up (so I stopped writing it so I could keep living in my "they did not break up" bubble until episode 6 dropped). The title is simply bc I have personal beef with Duncan Laurence because of that scene, I don't care that he won the eurovision song contest for us, if I ever see him it's on sight.

I think I might come back to it one day, but change it up a little and have it be a fix-it instead.

“Love shouldn’t be this hard.” He says before he realizes the words have left his mouth, those same words his mom told him weeks ago. Only now does he realize what they mean. The sheets ruffle as Wille, finally, at last, turns to him, face red and puffy and tear-streaked. “What do mean by that?” His voice is a mirroring of Simon’s; shaky, unsteady. Afraid. Something in Simon snaps and the dam breaks. The tears he’s been trying to hold back for so long start rolling down his face. Everything that’s been pushing at him, at them, the threats, the comments, the whole of the fucking court telling him what he can and can’t do, it threatens to unravel him. “Maybe it just can’t work. I can’t do this anymore.”

Ask me about my WIPs! 💜

[rowdyhughesy]

could you do something fluffy with trevor or mark? like them helping you through something?

Never let you fall - T.Zegras

” She was feeling the pressure of the world outside and she wanted to see him and feel his presence beside her and be reassured that she was doing the right thing after all. “

- F.Scott Fitzgerald

I am in no way shape or form trying to romanticise mental health. It’s a serious subject and just know that you’re never alone no matter what. There are always people willing to listen and help. I am available if you want somebody to just listen or talk to♡

It’s easier to ignore the fact that you’re not okay than doing something about it. Living in this fantasy that the world doesn’t feel like it’s caving in on you, that it’s not squeezing your airways from the inside. By ignoring it you don’t have to tell anyone about it. You can continue living in denial and not worrying those closest to you. Because your brain is telling you that nobody wants someone that can’t handle the world.

So that’s why you’re currently sitting on the roof of your apartment. It’s quiet up there, nothing to think about as you try to swallow down the tears that are threatening to slip out. Chest and throat burning as you inhale the smoke from the cigarette hanging between your lips. Headphones on playing your well thought out playlist with songs for when you feel like this. Empty. Alone. Your phone has been buzzing nonstop for the last two days but you haven’t had the energy to answer any of the texts. Most of them consisting of your parents reaching out about plans for the weekend or your friends asking why you haven’t been at work. Some are from Trevor, wondering why you weren’t at his game like you’d promised.

All of that making you think of how you’re letting people down. How you make promises you know you can’t keep when you feel like this. That thought alone breaks the dam. Leaning your forehead against your knees you cry. The words of your guardian angel by the red jumpsuits apparatus echoing inside your head.

I will never let you fall (let you fall). I'll stand up with you forever. I'll be there for you through it all (through it all) Even if saving you sends me to heaven. It's okay, It's okay, It's okay.

Aggressively wiping your cheeks with the sleeve of your sweatshirt you notice the car headlights pulling into the parking lot. The familiar BMW stopping in one of the open spots. Trevor.

Pulling the hood of your sweater over your head you hope it’ll aid you in camouflaging yourself from his view. Except for the obvious red glow still lit in your hand. Following his path from the car to the front door with your eyes you pray that he’ll go away when he notices you aren’t answering the door. But knowing the hockey player that’s the last thing he’ll do. Trevor is nothing if not persistent and always wanting to know that people he cares for are alright. That including his mess of a girlfriend at the moment.

Pausing the music you listen for signs that he’s going to walk away as you take another drag of the nicotine. White see through smoke escaping past your parted lips and disappearing in the air. The only times you smoked where when you were having an episode, just like now. It gave you something to focus on. Following the smoke as it makes it way into your lungs and out as you exhale.

“Angel face I know you’re up there.” Trevor’s voice travels through the quiet California air and inside the headphones. Realising you’ve been caught you pull the hood down along with the headphones. Still sitting with your legs bent towards your chest. The tear tracks are now dried making your skin feel stiff.

Noticing that you probably wont answer him Trevor sighs before walking towards the building wall. You know he’s scared of heights and seeing him climbing up the gutter on the side of the building before heaving himself up to the balcony makes your hearth grow warm. Suddenly his tan ringclaid hand makes an appearance by the end of the roof. Waving it back and forth as a sign for you to take it.

Scooting closer to the edge you grab his outstretched hand, aiding him in climbing up onto the roof. Trevor face is flushed as he looks up meeting your gaze. His eyes scanning your face, looking for any signs as of why you would be up here before they lock on the pack of cigarettes laying beside you. Brows furrowing. He knows you don’t smoke unless..

“Angel face-“ Trevor wraps his arms around you, setting your shorter frame in his lap as he hugs you close to his chest. “I just feel like the world is caving in Trev, I don’t know what to do.” Voice barely a whisper, hoarse from the crying and after not drinking anything for the last couple of days. Trevor places a featherlight kiss on your temple, hand running through your hair in a soothing motion. “You don’t have to do anything baby, if the world is caving in I’ll be there to build a wall around you. I’ll be that wall if that’s what it takes.”

A teary laugh escapes your lips, hand reaching out to take one of his. Intertwining your fingers as they lay on your lap. “What did I do to make you of all people fall in love with me? You’re so good. Kind, gentle and loving, always knowing how to make others laugh.” This time it’s Trevor’s turn to let out a quiet laugh, placing yet another kiss on your kiss except this time it’s on the corner of your mouth.

“You didn’t have to do anything, I just took a look at you when we where at that bar and knew that you were the one piece missing. I wasn’t who I am now when I met you. You were the one that shaped me into this gentle and loving guy. I wouldn’t be who I am now if it weren’t for you.” Nuzzling your face against his neck you inhale the smell of his cologne. A smell that always seems to ground you. Pull you back from wherever you’ve drifted off to in your head.

Climbing down from the roof the two of you make your way to the bedroom, changing into comfy pyjamas as Trevor drapes the comfort over your bodies. Arm still wrapped around your middle hugging you close to him. Letting the silence settle over the room, the only light inside peeking in from behind the drawn curtains casting a shadow over the walls.

Trevors whispering breaks the long silence. “You don’t have to push me away you know. Ever. You can push all you want but I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me now.” Turning your head so that you’re facing him you place one of your hands on his cheek. Leaning your forehead against his you bask in the feeling of being surrounded by him.

His touch, his smell, his love.

Trevor takes the chance to lean in, his lips parting as they meet yours. A content sigh slipping out as he feels you kiss back, your free hand tugging him closer to you as the other stays on his cheek. You stay there for what feels like forever. Kissing and tugging at each others clothes as if one of you might slip away. Whispering I love you in the dark over and over again as sleep consumes you.

The last thing you hear is Trevor’s voice. “You won’t ever have to go through this alone again. I’ve got you angel face, it’s you and me.”