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pennyellee · 3 months

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chapter IX - lacuna

LACRIMOSA | MYG MAFIA YANDERE AU

pairings: mafia leader!yoongi x f!reader

genre: mafia!au, yandere au, historical au

summary: Their interlocking gaze served as a butterfly effect on his heart, stirring it to the core. She, in turn, only dreams to find a way to escape. But perchance, over time she might forcefully learn to love the man who has taken so much from her.

Thus unfolds a twisted tale of love and loss, of hope and despair, of life and death. The music reverberated through the dimly-lit streets. Tears of sorrow, weeping symphony - reflects the hurt, the scars that linger deep within and the wounds that never healed. Lacrimosa.

warnings: minors dni 18+ | mafia au, dark!yoongi, mafia!yoongi, mentions of antidepressants, anxiety, panic attacks, nightmares, mentions of night terrors, mentions of self harm, manipulative behaviour, mentions of labotomy, medical cases, intimate life, diseases, “failed” pregnancy, alcohol, medication, etc.

beta read by @chaoticpuff17

word count: 8,7K

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone.

A/N: so yes, it took me a while to actually finish this chapter and as I mentioned - it’s shorter than what I usually want to write for lacrimosa. Truth to be told, this is what I can do for now till I get something better to write on. I don’t know when the next chapter will be written and up, so for now thank you for your patience, i actually didnt think i would write a chapter whilst im in US coz the only device on my person is my phone, but im very happy I managed to write something. This chapter is more of a prequel go what’s going to happen next. Many of you actually guessed/predicted some things right and for some you have to wait till the very end, we’re near it.

Massive thank you goes to @chaoticpuff17 who managed to beta read it despite both our situations being crazy rn, ily queen 🥹🫧🩵

Love you all, p.

m.list

lacuna (n.) a blank space, missing part

The night was relentless, a symphony of thunderclaps and the steady drum of rain against the cobblestones. The celebrations of the famous Kkangpae toned down, and after some months, several trips to the barren debris land of where Yakuza reigned, they returned safely to the sanctuary.

Back where she cannot hide from him in the stables, kitchen or sunroom, switching from one room to another just to not be in his presence for longer than she wanted. Yet, he managed to steal her away when his frustration boiled up enough. Y/N could’ve hinted how much she doesn’t want him to sleep next to her all she wants, he kept sneaking in and out every time. Yoongi was patient, determined even. Determined to make things right this time by giving her space. But the wrenching feeling of not having her close enough consumed him, night, day and moon.

Yoongi kept his promise, giving Y/N the space she needed while gradually attempting to rebuild the trust that had been shattered. He was careful with his words, patient in his actions, and ever attentive to her unspoken needs. The pair worked on their friendship these past weeks, he wanted himself to be her person. The person that she would love and lean on.

But the young Buin might seem calm now, from outside, but her wit remained under the surface. She buried herself deep within her psyche and doctor Kim could do very little to “repair” her. Not even renown specialists who came to give the young girl a helping hand did not succeed.

Yoongi watched her from a distance yet at the same time he was so close, his heart aching with the knowledge that he was partly to blame for her withdrawal. He had been too harsh, too controlling. Now, he was paying the price. He wanted nothing more than to hold her, to whisper apologies and promises into her ear. But every time he approached, he could see the fear and distrust in her eyes. It was a barrier he didn't know how to break.

Wang Xiaoqing’s wisdom was passed onto her, they whispered. But truth to be told, the elder woman, may she rest in peace, underestimated the new blood. The following legacy. Now, her kin suffers.

Yoongi wishes he never used the letter as leverage against her nor let her read it. At night he wonders whether that would change things. Whether by now she would be in love with him just as much he’s in love with her.

He sat down with the rest of his family at the dinner table after she broke down with yet another panic attack. The dining room was oppressively silent, the atmosphere thick with unspoken tension. It wasn’t even the end of January, and the snow was still prevailing outside. Yoongi sat at the head of the table, his expression a mask of stoic resolve, though his heart was anything but calm.

Y/N was conspicuously absent, her chair at the table glaringly empty. Yoongi's mind replayed the scene from earlier, the look of sheer panic in her eyes as she had crumbled under the weight of her emotions. He had wanted to reach out to her, to offer comfort, but he knew his presence would only worsen her distress.

Clearing his throat, Yoongi broke the silence, his voice strained but firm.

“I know you care about me. About this family—”

“I’ve made mistakes—mistakes that have pushed her to the edge.”

“No, Yoongi—” the right hand man straightened himself in his seat interrupting his leader.

Yoongi’s eyes flickered with a mixture of frustration and sorrow as he turned to face his right-hand man, Namjoon. The room held its breath, tension crackling in the air.

“Namjoon, please,” Yoongi said, his voice weary. “My wife slit her throat, stop justifying my actions.”

Namjoon hesitated but nodded, leaning back in his chair, his expression still troubled. Yoongi took a deep breath, steeling himself to continue.

"I pushed her too far, and now she's breaking—”

“Now, I don’t know what your intentions are with my wife, but I forbid you from whatever you are putting into her head.”

Namjoon's eyes widened in shock at Yoongi's words, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for the right response. The weight of Yoongi's accusation hung heavy in the air, and the room seemed to grow even quieter, the tension palpable.

Yoongi's jaw clenched, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. He had always trusted Namjoon implicitly, had relied on him as his closest confidant and advisor. But now, in the wake of Y/N's pain and suffering, he couldn't help but wonder if that trust had been misplaced.

“All of you.”

“Yoongi, I swear—” Namjoon began, his voice tinged with desperation. But Yoongi held up a hand, cutting him off.

“I don't want to hear it, Namjoon,” he said, his tone final.

“Whatever it is, I’m giving her the space to tell me herself.” Namjoon's gaze faltered under Yoongi's intense stare.

“I would never intentionally do anything to harm Y/N or come between you two. She's like family to me, too.” Yoongi's jaw clenched tighter, but he nodded curtly, acknowledging Namjoon's words.

“Seokjin.” He addressed the oldest man in the room.

“Yes, Yoongi?” Seokjin replied, his voice steady despite the gravity of the situation.

“She’s still taking those pills you gave her,” Seokjin's brow furrowed in concern at Yoongi's words. They were only a temporary solution before Seokjin decided that day to put her on barbiturates. She needs his help and if he cannot help her the way he knows it will be most effective, he’ll at least prescribe whatever will tone down her night terrors so she can sleep at nights.

"I'll talk to her," he said firmly. “But you know what would certainly help her—” Yoongi’s hand flew high to hit the table, making everybody twitch at the loud noise.

“No, Seokjin. No.” The family members exchanged solemn nods. Yoongi took a moment to compose himself, his chest heaving with pent-up frustration.

"She needs more support than we can provide on our own. We have to consider what's best for her.” Yoongi struggled to find the words to express his feelings. "I know, Seokjin," he replied, his voice thick with emotion. "But that is going way too far.”

Namjoon leaned forward, his expression earnest. The youngest at the end of the table cleared his throat. All eyes turned to him, waiting for his input. Jungkook hesitated for a moment, feeling the weight of the tension in the room, before speaking up.

“Maybe you just need to stop shielding her in. Let her live a life—” Jungkook's suggestion hung in the air, a fresh perspective on the situation that caused the family members to exchange thoughtful glances.

Yoongi's brow furrowed as he considered Jungkook's words, the idea of allowing Y/N more freedom conflicting with his instinct to protect her.

“But what if she runs for the hills, Kook.” Park Jimin’s voice echoed from across the room, his hands busy pouring the strong liquor to seven crystal glasses. Yoongi's gaze flickered towards Jimin, setting the first glass in front of him.

"I can't bear the thought of her running away from me again," Yoongi admitted, his voice heavy with emotion. Hoseok nodded in agreement, his expression sombre.

Jungkook nodded thoughtfully, understanding Yoongi's apprehension. "I get where you're coming from, hyung,—” Jimin set down the last glass of liquor, his expression sympathetic.

“I’d say, nonetheless, she needs something to occupy her mind other than those thoughts.” Said Jimin sitting down on his chair while nursing his own glass of the booze.

"Maybe if we can find something that brings her joy, something to distract her—” Seokjin nodded in agreement, his expression thoughtful.

“She studied, tasted her own freedom and now all she’s left with is being your wife.” Yoongi's heart clenched at Jimin's words, a pang of guilt washing over him. But still a large part of him was thinking why it is not enough.

“She can work with me once she’s better.” The doctor interjected. Yoongi's gaze shifted towards Seokjin, a flicker of hope igniting within him at the suggestion.

"You think she'd be up for it?" Yoongi asked, his voice tentative yet hopeful.

“Ah hyung you’re so in the dark—” Jungkook remarked. Jungkook sighed, his gaze meeting Yoongi's with empathy.

“She needs to feel like she has a say in her own life, like she's not just living for someone else.” Where this newfound wisdom arose, Yoongi did not know. But he was glad for the support of his family men.

Hoseok placed a reassuring hand on Yoongi's shoulder, his expression filled with empathy.

“She knows so much about herbs, remedies, I think she’ll be happy to help Seokjin.” Yoongi's heart swelled with gratitude for Hoseok's insight. He hadn't fully realised the extent of Y/N's knowledge and interests outside of their marriage and that needed to change.

“Don’t tell her just yet.” The right hand man remarked.

“Yes, I want to give her more time to recover before we come back to the sanctuary.” The other family members murmured their agreement, a sense of solidarity and understanding settling over them. After all, at the end of the day it is a happy wife, happy life.

—

But months later, Y/N understood that if there’s even a slight possibility that the scarred leader will grow for better, it would be a painfully long process. She realised so once he returned with his knuckles all bruised and bloodied one night. She tended to them, and he was basking under her touch. Despite everything, she couldn’t ignore the humanity in his pain.

Her eyes rolled and a loud sigh followed when she understood what was the cause of his lapse of senses. He had let his frustration and anger take over him, but rather than put it out on everyone else like he was known for, he silently left his office to vent his anger elsewhere. She guided him to sit down after she asked the maid to bring her everything she needed to clean his wounds.

Yoongi watched her, his eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and excitement under her delicate touch. The feel of her hands, so careful and tender, was both a comfort and a torment. The imagery masking all the darkness that loomed over them, they would fool even the Lord himself that this couple is one of love.

They sat in silence, the only sound the soft rustle of bandages and the distant rumble of thunder outside. Yoongi closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes to him. She avoided him less and less. So why did he have to let his steam off so suddenly?

“You know—” she began, focusing on his other hand now.

“You’re not really setting a good example of “communication is the key ”, now do you?”

Yoongi's eyes flickered open at her words, a hint of guilt flashing across his features before he quickly masked it with a neutral expression. He couldn't deny the truth in her statement, nor could he easily articulate the tangled mess of emotions that swirled within him.

His mind drifted back to the hushed whispers, the concerned looks from Seokjin. Y/N was still fairly weak in terms of her health. Yet, he hoped that maybe, just maybe, she’ll come to tell him he’s going to be a father. Foolish of him, he knows. Selfish of him, he knows that too.

“I’m sorry, Dove.” He only muttered, forcing a kiss to her sphenoid bone, it was the only affection she rarely allowed him to show. Y/N knew that if she wanted to persuade him that she isn’t a flying risk, she’ll have to allow him to do more. She progressed slowly, with patience and space to breathe everything out.

The reason the young leader needed to vent his anger was obvious to Y/N. She heard the maid that so blatantly spied on everything she did, what she asked for, and whom she talks to on the telephone. Y/N was cautious, yet today, she had to ask for some feminine goods. She understood where his hope for a baby came from, he got himself to believe that once the monthly bleeding did not come the first, second nor the third month.

The young gal, however, knew that this has nothing to do with the possibility of her being pregnant. She still drank the remedy, just to be sure, and for her peace of mind as it bore too many demons already. The fourth month her body decided it’s time to function again and of course the devoted maid reported that right back to her husband whose hope for a child vanished.

“I was hoping we could go see Ma and little Bo Cheng before the wedding, I promised to teach him how to ride a ho—” she began her request carefully. Y/N had managed to negotiate Daiyu’s extended vacation in America with her young son and Kai, yet she couldn’t shake the strong feeling that Yoongi had only allowed such a thing to happen because he felt indebted to her at the moment. Her state was far more delicate than he thought and he desperately wanted to make her happy. The one thing she wanted the most, he couldn’t grant. Freedom.

“Would that make you happy?” Yoongi interrupted. He sighed, his eyes drifting to the window where dark clouds gathered on the horizon.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, a small, hesitant smile tugged at Y/N’s lips. It was a fragile thing, easily shattered, but it was real. And in that moment, Yoongi vowed to himself that he would protect that smile, nurture it, and help it grow.

“Yes, it would. Maybe we could also pay a visit to Daiyu—” Y/N sucked her lips in and shyly smiled again. Yoongi nodded slowly. He sighed, leaning back in his chair, his fingers drumming against the armrests. The weight of their precarious situation pressed down on him, the knowledge that every decision could have far-reaching consequences hanging over them like a dark cloud.

“I’m not sure about that, sweetling,” he replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty. Her heart clenched, did he understand her intentions?

“You said you’ll give me the world, Yoongi. Why not this?” Y/N’s smile faltered, a flicker of disappointment crossing her features.

Yoongi’s gaze softened further, a mixture of regret and longing in his eyes. He reached out, taking her hand in his, his touch gentle and reassuring.

“I will consider this trip, but we have to be cautious now. War is looming on the horizon.” He explained, his tone serious.

“What do you mean war? You’ve just won one,” she challenged, her voice laced with disbelief.

“The world is a volatile place, Dove. Our battle was nothing in comparison to what is to come. The world will fight—” Yoongi’s expression darkened, the weight of their past victories suddenly overshadowed by the looming threat of conflict. Y/N’s heart sank at the mention of war, a cold knot forming in the pit of her stomach.

“Until we’re certain there’s no threat, I want us to remain in Korea, my love.” he declared, his final words.

Y/N’s heart sank at his words, but she forced herself to nod, understanding the gravity of their situation. The war threatened to consume them all, and they had to tread carefully if they were to survive. Y/N nodded slowly to his words.

“She wrote to you this morning, didn’t she?” Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that she’s running out of time. If they were caught up in the chaos, she feared she may never leave this place. And with Yoongi’s resolve to remain in Korea, their window of opportunity grew smaller with each passing moment. It was worth the shot, he wouldn’t let her slip that easily if there’s an actual threat that the world’s will battle.

“She met someone,” Y/N added softly, her voice tinged with uncertainty of how Yoongi will react. He, however, already knew. There was nothing that would go past him or so he thought.

"She met someone?" he repeated, his voice tinged with false scepticism. Y/N's heart ached at the doubt in Yoongi's voice, but she held firm in her conviction.

“She’s a widow with a child, who—”

“Happy widow with a child—” she inserted herself into his remark. "She deserves it, Yoongi. After everything she's been through, she deserves a chance at love and happiness.”

“Daiyu is no longer tied to the syndicate. You promised not to meddle with her affairs unless she needs help.” She reminded him less gently, her voice tinged with a hint of caution.

“I intend to keep that promise.” Lie. He already knew the man who so openly started to court her. A sense of relief washed over Y/N as she watched Yoongi's resistance soften, even if it was pretended.

“The rain won’t stop pouring—” Y/N’s voice trailed off, a sombre note creeping into her tone as she glanced out the window at the stormy sky.

“How do you feel today?” Yoongi observed Y/N for a moment, his expression softening as he took in her weary demeanour.

“Better than yesterday.” She replied, her voice carrying a hint of resilience. Yoongi nodded, a sense of relief washing over him at her response. Despite the challenges they faced, he was grateful for every moment of peace they could find amidst the storm.

He noticed the subtle signs of improvement in her appearance. Her cheeks, once sunken and lifeless, now held a hint of colour, and the dark circles under her eyes seemed less pronounced. Her eyes sparkled differently, not with tears as of late. Whatever Seokjin is doing to help her, it is working.

“Have you slept well?” he inquired gently, his voice filled with genuine concern. From Monday to Friday, storms reigned over the hidden valley. Yoongi reached out, gently brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face, his touch tender and reassuring. Her dark hair grew enough to reach past her shoulders since the unfortunate event back in October.

“It wasn't the best, but it was better than before.” Yoongi nodded in understanding, his gaze lingering on her with a mixture of admiration and concern. He knew that even the smallest victories, like a few hours of sleep, were worth celebrating in their tumultuous world. After all the night terrors she endured for months.

“How’s working with Seokjin?” He knew how demanding their roles could be, especially in the midst of ongoing turmoil. Yoongi expected her to sigh just as softly as she always does, her expression to reflect the weight of responsibility, but none of that happened. Y/N smiled at him brightly instead.

Y/N's smile was like a ray of sunlight breaking through the clouds, momentarily dispelling the shadows that lingered around them.

“Work has been great. I've been able to help so many people—” she replied, her voice infused with a sense of optimism that Yoongi hadn't heard in a while. As she spoke, Y/N’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm, a stark contrast to the weariness that had plagued her in recent months.

“Did you know that punk, Jungkook, pretends to be sick every other day just to swing by?” Y/N’s voice was filled with amusement as she recounted the antics of the youngest of the seven. Though older than her, she did not feel any age difference between them two.

Yoongi couldn’t help but chuckle at the mention of Jungkook's antics.

"That sounds like him," he remarked, a fond smile playing at his lips. She continued, her words flowing freely as she recounted her experiences while working with Seokjin at the clinic.

“Seokjin has been a wonderful mentor,” she continued, her eyes shining with gratitude. “He’s taught me so much more than we actually studied at school—” Yoongi nodded in agreement, a sense of pride swelling within him as he listened to Y/N's tales of their work at the clinic.

“I remember this one young man who had sustained severe burns on his arms. The sight of his injuries was heart-breaking, but I could see the determination in his eyes to overcome the pain.” Y/N’s voice softened with emotion as she recalled the moment.

"We worked tirelessly to stabilise him, and when he finally regained consciousness, the look of gratitude in his eyes made all the long hours and hard work worth it. It was a reminder of why I wanted to be a nurse in the first place—to make a difference in people’s lives, no matter how small.”

Yoongi listened intently, his heart swelling with a mixture of emotions. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret for not allowing her to pursue her passion for nursing earlier.

He may not be able to undo the past, but he could certainly make sure that she had all the support she needed to thrive in the future. The youngest was right. She needed this, she needed to regain her purpose in her life. To be someone for herself.

He realised how much he had underestimated her need for work, how vital it was for her to have a sense of purpose and fulfilment. There was still hope and goodness.

Yoongi listened to all the stories she had to say as for the first time since forever, there were no tears, no screams, no tension in the air. Just the calm, steady rhythm of their shared breaths.

“You know,” Yoongi began, his voice soft, "I'm proud of you. Proud of everything you've accomplished and the progress you’re making. I should have let you do this sooner.”

“Can’t change the past now can we?” He nodded to her remark solemnly, squeezing her hand.

“Tell me more,—” he urged, eager to hear more about her work, her passion. He wanted to be part of her world just like she is part of his, to support her in every way possible.

Y/N smiled, her face glowing with happiness. “Well, there’s this little girl named Jang-mi. She’s been coming in for treatment regularly, and despite everything, she's always so cheerful—”

—

Y/N pulled her coat tighter around her, feeling the icy water seep through the fabric. Her breath came in shallow gasps, mixing with the cold air to form small clouds that dissipated as quickly as they appeared. She huddled beneath the overhang of a small alley, her body shivering uncontrollably. The once comforting weight of her coat now felt like a burden, soaked and heavy.

Her mind raced, a chaotic swirl of fear and desperation. The past few days had been a whirlwind of terror and confusion. She had trusted the wrong people, made alliances that crumbled under the weight of deceit. Every step she took seemed to lead her deeper into a labyrinth of danger and uncertainty. She couldn’t afford another mistake; the stakes were too high. The sound of her own heartbeat was loud in her ears, a constant reminder of the life-or-death game she was playing.

A sudden flash of lightning split the sky, casting stark shadows and illuminating the alley in a harsh, white light. For a brief moment, everything was clear and sharp, every detail etched into her memory. That’s when she saw him.

At the mouth of the alley is where he stood , his figure backlit by the brilliant light. He was drenched, his hair plastered to his forehead, but he seemed unfazed by the torrential rain. His presence was as menacing as ever, a dark silhouette against the night. His eyes, however, were what held her captive. They were dark, deep pools of unreadable emotion, reflecting the storm’s fury.

Yoongi didn’t move, didn’t speak. He simply watched her, his gaze intense and unwavering. It was a look she had seen before, one that sent chills down her spine. It was the look of a predator sizing up its prey. She knew then, with a sickening certainty, that no matter how far she ran, he would always be one step ahead.

Panic surged through her, threatening to overwhelm her senses. She pressed herself against the wall, the rough brick scraping her skin through the thin material of her coat. She needed to think, to find a way out, but her mind was a blur of fear and fatigue. The rain continued to pour, the cold seeping into her bones, making her limbs feel heavy and uncooperative.

Yoongi took a step forward, the movement slow and deliberate. His boots splashed in the puddles, the sound muffled by the storm. Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest, a wild, frantic rhythm. She felt like a trapped animal, cornered with no way out. The alley was a dead end, and Yoongi was blocking her only escape route.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low and smooth, cutting through the noise of the storm. “You can’t keep running.”

His words were a cold, hard truth that she didn’t want to accept. But she had no choice. Every attempt to escape had led her right back to him, like a cruel game of cat and mouse. She swallowed hard, her throat dry despite the rain. She had to keep fighting, had to find a way to break free from his grip.

“I won’t let you control me,” she said, her voice shaking but determined. “I’ll find a way out.”

Yoongi’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—amusement, perhaps, or admiration for her defiance. “You’re stronger than I thought,” he said, taking another step closer. “But strength alone won’t save you.”

He was close now, close enough that she could see the droplets of rain clinging to his eyelashes, the way his clothes clung to his body. His presence was overwhelming, a dark force that seemed to consume all the light around him. She knew she had to act, had to do something before it was too late.

Summoning every ounce of courage, Y/N pushed off the wall and lunged towards him, hoping to catch him off guard. But Yoongi was ready. His hand shot out, grabbing her wrist with a grip like iron. She struggled, twisting and pulling, but he was too strong.

“Let me fucking go!” she cried, her voice breaking with desperation.

Yoongi pulled her closer, his other hand coming up to cup her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You’re mine, Y/N,” he said softly, his breath warm against her skin. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Even if it means protecting you from yourself.”

Tears mingled with the rain on her cheeks as she realised the futility of her struggle. Yoongi’s words were a chilling promise, one that she knew he would keep. She was trapped, caught in a web of his making, with no way out.

The storm raged on around them, but in that moment, all Y/N could feel was the cold, unyielding grip of the man she used to fear, and the inescapable reality of her situation.

Y/N woke with a start, her breath coming in ragged gasps as the remnants of the nightmare clung to her mind. Her body was drenched in cold sweat, and her heart pounded wildly in her chest. For a moment, she couldn’t discern reality from the dream, the vivid images of the rain-soaked alley and Yoongi’s menacing presence still haunting her.

It was a memory that was hidden in the back of her mind to resurface when she’s the most vulnerable. It had happened a few times already, her mind showing her each time she attempted to escape the scarred leader.

She took a deep breath and listened to the mix of crackling fireplace and raindrops outside. His eyes were on her petite physique, his hands holding a book he was reading while she took a well deserved afternoon nap. He put down his reading glasses and ran a hand through his hair, closing the book and turning her attention to her.

“Which one was it this time?”

She turned to see him sitting beside her, his eyes filled with worry. The contrast between the Yoongi in her nightmare and the one before her now was stark. Gone was the cold, calculating predator; in his place was a man who genuinely cared for her well-being. He did change a little. Or maybe he was like that before but his selfishness didn’t allow him to show her his bright side.

Her legs moved to his lap when she was asleep, and he gently rubbed circles into her ankles, his touch soothing for once.

“Will you keep me safe?”

Yoongi's expression softened further, his gaze unwavering as he looked into her eyes. He knows that there were moments that haunt her till now. Moments he let happen with his cockiness.

“Always,” he replied, his voice steady and filled with conviction. “I’ll keep you safe, no matter what.”

“I just... I don’t want to be afraid anymore,” she admitted, her voice breaking slightly.

“Just rest, Dove,” Yoongi murmured, his voice a soothing balm to her frayed nerves. “I’ll be right here.”

After a few silent minutes, Y/N broke the calm silence.

“Can we play the piano?”

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. Together, they moved to the old piano in the corner of the room. As they sat side by side, their fingers tentatively began to touch the keys. Each note was a delicate thread, weaving together a tapestry of their unspoken emotions. The music became their secret language, a way to say everything they couldn’t put into words.

Every time she did not feel like speaking herself, they played. Until she felt better. Yoongi played with a gentle intensity, his fingers dancing over the keys with practised ease.

He was a better player, so she thought. Afterall, he had had more life to practice.

The medication made her more open to him. Sooner or later she’ll have to get off of it before it will become her only source of happiness. There were days it made her sleep well, drink, eat, breathe and live like the person she used to be. And there were days she sat in front of her vanity mirror knowing this effect is only temporary.

She cannot afford to get off of them while she’s remaining by his side. Her being would not take it and the prospect of freedom would be scarce. It blunted negative emotions which worked in the scarred boy’s favour.

It was working, but it was a question of time when she’ll develop tolerance and they won’t work anymore. That’s why Seokjin is desperately trying to convince Yoongi that he’ll have a way to help her. Permanently.

Yoongi knows that it would be just another mistake he would have to write under his name.

“I’ll always keep you safe,” he whispered again, his words a promise and a plea. And in the quiet aftermath of their duet, she almost believed him.

In that fleeting moment, she wasn’t running, and Yoongi wasn’t chasing. They were simply two souls, lost in the music, trying to find their way back to each other. One more than the other.

His hand moved to cover hers on the keys, their eyes meeting in the stillness that followed. The world outside ceased to exist, the rain and the fire a distant backdrop to the intensity of their shared gaze.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Yoongi leaned in, his breath mingling with hers. Her heart raced, not with fear, but with a different kind of anticipation.

Their faces were inches apart, the unspoken words hanging in the air between them. His eyes flickered to her lips, then back to her eyes, seeking permission, seeking assurance. Y/N’s breath hitched, her mind a whirlwind of emotions.

“Unnie?!” Xiaoli's voice rang out, bright and oblivious. “We need to talk about—”

“Can you keep me safe from my own sister?” She scoffed playfully. His chuckle bounced on her lips as his lips still hovered just a breath away from hers, the paper door swung open with a sudden, sharp creak.

Taehyung stepped in behind her, his eyes widening as he took in the scene. "Oh. We’re... interrupting, aren’t we?”

Yoongi pulled back slightly, his expression darkening as he turned to face them. Y/N felt the moment slipping away, the fragile connection disrupted.

“What is it?” Yoongi asked, his voice strained with barely concealed irritation.

“You invited us to have dinner, Hyung.” Taehyung reminded him, his tone a mix of apology and amusement.

Xiaoli’s eyes darted between Yoongi and Y/N, realisation dawning on her face. “Oh... we’re really sorry. I didn’t mean to barge in, Kkangpae Min.”

She apologised, still not her but always to him and him only. Y/N forced herself to smile. The woman that her sister became is not the same one she grew up with.

“There was nothing to interrupt, don’t worry,” she waved it off and Yoongi sighed, the tension in his shoulders evident.

—

The fleeting moment of intimacy with Y/N hung heavily in his mind. Before, during and after the dinner. He was extravagantly close to feel her lips on his again, just for the moment to be swept away.

Dinner was a mix of awkward silences and forced conversation. Xiaoli and Taehyung tried to lighten the mood, but the air was thick with unspoken words.

Yoongi, for his part, seemed distant, his mind clearly elsewhere. Every so often, his gaze would meet hers across the table.

“Will you come next week?” Xiaoli asked, sipping her wine.

Y/N, momentarily distracted from her thoughts, looked up.

“Next week?”

Y/N glanced at Yoongi, who was already looking at her. She hesitated, unsure of committing to anything he did not allow earlier.

“Yes, Y/N promised Bo Cheng to teach him how to ride a horse, and I have some business to attend to.” Yoongi cleared his throat, breaking the silence.

“I could teach him,” Said Xiaoli, a bit jealous that their brother wanted Y/N to teach him when she was right there in the hotel.

Once Xiaoli and Taehyung will be with each other for eternity, the family of three then, will take their leave back to China.

The Triad leader attended his own business trips while his wife and children stayed with the “allying” clan.

He doesn’t know. None of them knows what Y/N did to herself, apart from Xiaoli, who herself doesn’t know every detail. They spreaded white lies to cover this “lapse of senses”. A misstep. Y/N hides the fading scar carefully to avoid any explanation. She wished to not tell them, and the kkangpae did not object to her wishes anymore. Whatever she wants, she gets. Usually, most of the time if she’s reasonable and clever about it.

The past months painstakingly helped them to get better. Or so Yoongi thought. Her priority was never to be his good wife, her priority is him thinking she will be his good obedient loving wife and when he won’t expect her to seek freedom anymore — she’ll disappear.

“I don't know about that, honey. You remember that nasty fall you took last year?” Her husband-to-be said nonchalantly. Y/N furrowed her brows in confusion.

“Fall?—“ she asked, doubting his words.

“What are you talking about?” Xiaoli herself was surprised at his words. She did not recall any falls. Y/N knew Xiaoli isn’t the best rider, but she was decent enough to hold any situation that would make her fall from the horse under control.

“I don’t remember that,—” she said, taking another long sip from her glass.

“You’d certainly remember falling from a horse. Why don’t I know about this, Yoongi?” Said Y/N turning herself to the quiet man.

“I was having a hard time keeping you here as you loved to go for a run back then. It must have slipped my mind—“

“My sister falling from a horse slipped your mind?”

“He did not know Y/N, until a lot later. Right, Hyung?” Taehyung smiled sweetly at her, defending his Kkangpae. As always. Y/N clicked her tongue and gifted Yoongi with a penetrating stare creating another layer of tension in the room.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He cleared his throat, attempting to gather his thoughts. The last thing he wants is to mess up their relationship again.

“You’re right, love. I should have told you once I got to know that,” Yoongi admitting guilt is a new trait he acquired these past months.

“How did she fall?” Y/N aimed her question at Taehyung as her sister clearly doesn't remember it.

“It wasn’t probably that bad if I don’t remember it, Unnie. Don’t worry about it anymore—“ the younger female answered before her fiance had the chance to do so.

Y/N sighed loudly but the hand under the table that was gripping her younger sister’s thigh was not seen by her eyes.

—

It was hard to keep focus, especially with Seokjin constantly needing her assistance at work. His stern demeanour and meticulous nature kept her on her toes, but she appreciated the distraction. She knew why she was at his beck and call. Yoongi demanded so. Under any circumstances she ought to be next to Seokjin.

The ambulance in the sanctuary was significantly smaller than the big sanitorium in the town, but there was still some work to do here too.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, leaning back in his chair and studying her intently.

“The usual,” she murmured, filling today’s report. Seokjin watched her for a moment, then brought the courage to ask.

“Have you been intimate?” Y/N dropped the pen at once and with wide eyes. She stared at him. The question came out of nowhere nor was it called for.

“Wh-what do you mean intimate?”

“Exactly what I said,” he replied calmly, not breaking eye contact.

“Have you been intimate with Yoongi again?”

“I don’t see how this is your business, Seokjin.” She felt her face flush with heat, a mix of embarrassment and anger.

“I’m not trying to pry. I’m your friend, but I’m also your doctor, sweetling—,” he said softly.

“Your health and well-being are my concern,” Seokjin explained. “And you know that if something’s affecting you emotionally or physically, it could impact your health.”

Bullcrap, he is in fact prying.

She was silent for a minute, trying to comprehend how he is taking care of her being this late. If she wouldn’t attempt to kill herself, these concerns wouldn’t be as great. But Y/N cannot afford to break havoc. She can’t go on rampage as she wants every single person here to think that she is moving towards being a good obedient wife of the Kkangpae. Even though she wants to scream to each and one of their faces about how much they failed her. How much they hurt her. Yet, patience is the key. Breathe, sleep, eat, endure.

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, then decided to change the topic.

“What about your wife?” Seokjin’s eyes flickered with surprise before he masked it with a neutral expression. Y/N barely knew the woman. Matter of fact she has seen her maybe three times since the wedding.

“Very much pregnant,” he said, his voice a mix of pride and weariness.

“Oh,” Y/N replied, taken aback. “I didn’t know. Congratulations, I guess.” Here comes another thing that Yoongi managed to keep from her.

“Thank you, my dear,” Seokjin said, a small smile touching his lips. “It’s been… an interesting journey, to say the least.”

“I can imagine,—” Y/N said, sensing there was more beneath the surface.

“Can you imagine yourself on that journey?” Seokjin interrupted, his gaze searching her face.

She pretended that the question took her by surprise, looking down at her hands to not give herself away.

“I don’t know,” she admitted softly. He is testing her. “It’s hard to think about that kind of future with everything that’s going on.”

Seokjin nodded, his expression thoughtful. “It’s understandable. But it’s something to consider. Maybe a baby would help you to shush your demons away.”

Y/N’s heart raced at the suggestion, and she forced herself to maintain her composure. “I… I don’t think a baby is the answer, Seokjin. There’s so much I need to sort out first.”

“Sometimes, having something to focus on, something to live for, can make all the difference,” Seokjin said gently.

She nodded, still feeling uneasy about the direction of the conversation. Opting not to give more than she would want to by not answering his remark and going back to finish the report.

“Just know that you have options. And that you don’t have to go through any of this alone.”

“Thanks,” she replied, offering a small smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Of course she won’t.

—

Y/N entered the dimly lit room where Yoongi was sitting, his face illuminated by the soft glow of a lamp. He looked up as she closed the door behind her, his expression softened once he looked up from the papers. The office in the sanctuary remained the same apart from the fact that now the young Kkangpae occupies it far more often than before.

He took his glasses off and pushed himself away from the desk creating a space for her to come and stand in front of him, leaning against the massive wooden desk. Her hands felt the warmth of the wood that had been heated by the lamp, reflecting the same heat that radiated between them.

“Did you ask Seokjin to put thoughts into my head?” she asked, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her.

Yoongi sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t ask him to, but I knew he would at some point try to give you some wisdom. What did he say?”

“That a baby would be the right treatment for me,” she replied, her voice tight with frustration.

Yoongi’s eyes widened slightly, then he closed them and exhaled deeply.

“I’m sorry, Dove—“

“Do you think that too?” she asked, searching his face. “That a baby would magically fix everything?”

Yoongi shook his head, stepping up from his chair and closer to her. “No, I don’t. A baby isn’t a solution to our problems—“ she didn’t believe one word that was coming out of this mouth. He wouldn’t break his knuckles this hard if he didn’t want the baby that Y/N took care of not happening anytime soon. Her system was full of herbal remedies. And now that she knows, the herbs flowing in her system are working, she can use that to her advantage.

“But that would make you happy right?” She countered, seeing through him. Softening her mimics to appeal to him.

“Well, yeah, I want a family with you someday—“

“Someday? The bandages on your knuckles says that you’re pretty eager to have it now—” she scoffed and murmured under her nose.

Yoongi’s eyes for once reflected something she couldn’t quite recognise. There was a mix of desperation and longing that flickered there. His hand reached out, trembling slightly, and cupped her cheek gently.

“Dove, I want us to be happy, truly happy. But I know bringing a child into this world won’t erase your pain or solve our problems. We need to fix ourselves first—” His thumb brushed her cheek tenderly.

“I’m sorry for being selfish, my love,” she felt a tear escape her eye, rolling down to where his thumb could catch it. She closed her eyes for a moment, leaning into his touch because that’s what always softens his edges.

After months, she has learnt what strings to pull to make him move just the way she wants to. Yet, Y/N knows that he isn’t that stupid to believe she suddenly wants to live with him happily ever after.

“I can pour us some wine. We can play the piano after dinner, hm?” He could feel her vulnerability, her heart laid bare before him. Or so he thought as she wanted him to think that. His hand continued to caress her cheek softly, his touch gentle yet laden with unspoken longing she sensed each time he attempted to get closer to her.

She nodded, a small pretentious smile playing on her lips as she stepped closer to him. The tension between them lingered.

He pulled her closer, his lips brushing against her forehead. “We will be good. We just need time with each other.”

He sat first, patting the space beside him, inviting her to join. Her fingers brushed the keys, eliciting a soft, mournful note. A melody that echoed in her mind far too often. An anthem for hurting. Weeping symphony, tears of sorrow.

He became far too respectful towards her boundaries which essentially was ruining all of her plans. Her fingers pressed the keys with delicate touch even when she wanted to smash them rock hard.

“Why this song?” She let the question hang in the air for a moment, her fingers poised above the keys as if weighing his words.

“Do you know what they interpret it as?” She finally said, her voice soft, barely audible above the lingering notes. Her eyes, once masked with a facade of calm, now revealed a flicker of the anguish she carried.

“Tell me,” he flipped the page of the notes book for her to continue the song.

“It’s a tale of unspoken grief, of wounds too deep to heal and shadows that never leave.”

He felt a shiver run down his spine as she said that. Part of him understood what message she was trying to leave and part of him wished he’s wrong.

“I view it as love lost and dreams shattered. They say it’s a lament for those who wander through life carrying burdens no one else can see.”

He carefully listened to all her words, all the notes she played, all her feelings she shared. Her fingers moved over the keys, each note a whisper of sorrow.

“The scars I carry inside,—“ His hand reached out to touch hers, a gesture of comfort. Stopping her from playing more.

“Let me help you carry that weight—“

“You created it in the first place.”

His eyes widened, a mixture of guilt and realisation flooding his expression. She pulled her hand away.

“The scars I carry, the emptiness I feel, they all trace back to you.”

His mind raced to comprehend the depth of her pain, trying to understand her intentions. It’s not like he ever expected her to say it out loud.

“You created emptiness in me Yoongi—“

He felt his heart clench with guilt and regret. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice cracking. It was nothing new. She heard his apologies but she was yet to accept them

She turned back to the piano, her fingers resting on the keys but not playing. “Intentions don’t change the past,” she said softly. “The pain remains—“

“But the future can learn from mistakes.”

“I will. I’ll learn—“ He began before she interrupted him.

“You need to fill the space now.” His eyes lit up listening to her words. In his mind, this was it. The holy grail. In her mind, she was wrapping him around her finger before she would bounce away like a pebble on the pond.

“Heal me if you must.”

These were her last words before the distance between them shrank, the intensity of their emotions drawing them closer. He leaned in, his heart pounding in his chest that she could almost hear it but Y/N didn’t pull away.

Their lips met in a soft, tentative kiss, a delicate brush that spoke of apology, of yearning, and of promises yet to be fulfilled. Her heart cried and the song remained echoing in her mind.

As they pulled back slightly, their foreheads resting against each other, Yoongi felt a warmth spread through him, chasing away the cold shadows of regret. She looked at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. His thoughts were swirling with one thing only — this was the real beginning of them. And it was the beginning.

The beginning of the end.

I N T E R L O G U E

The walls were lined with bookshelves, each shelf overflowing with dusty tomes and old papers. A large, ornate desk stood in the centre, its surface cluttered with stacks of documents.

Seokjin rarely sends her to this room as they also rarely stay in the hanok the sanctuary has for medical assistance to those who live here.

She approached slowly, her fingers brushing over the worn leather of a chair before settling on a stack of yellowed files that he asked to bring. It was then when her eyes caught the opened crimson red files that laid flat open on the desk. The ones that the doctor forgot to take with him the other time he had to run and tend to the lady of the house in the middle of the night. They stayed there, laid open, for several weeks. Touched by a thin layer of dust on top of it.

Kim Seokjin is renowned in his field of practice. Yet, this was going to be his great mistake. Inside, there were detailed medical records, notes written in a precise, almost mechanical hand. The words on the pages made her stomach churn—phrases like “prefrontal lobotomy,” “behavioural correction,” and “psychosurgical intervention” leapt out at her. She read on, horrified by the cold, clinical descriptions of procedures that seemed more like torture than treatment.

Her hand flew to her mouth to not let the wailing cry away.

Trembling, she pushed the file aside and reached for the next one. Not bearing what they’ve done to her sister. Y/N’s hands shook as she read through the files, each word a dagger to her heart. The clinical detachment with which the procedures were described made her feel sick. These were not just medical records—they were accounts of inhuman experiments carried out in the name of science, or more so — control.

The name on this file was all too familiar, it was Jin’s wife. He must have done it before the wedding as she seemed far too calm. Her heart pounded in her chest as she opened it, fearing what she might find. The contents were similar—detailed accounts of medical procedures, records of a lobotomy performed in a desperate attempt to “cure” her of what the notes described as “hysteria” and “unmanageable behaviour.”

Y/N felt a wave of nausea wash over her. She stumbled back from the desk, her mind reeling from the revelations. The room seemed to close in around her, the shadows deepening as the weight of what she had discovered settled on her shoulders.

The name on the empty file under those made her anxious, hysteric even more as the tag had Min Y/N written on it.

She wiped her tears but they couldn't stop falling.

“Y/N?”

tag list: @beautifulcloudfestival - @honsoolgloss - @jingerbreadoutofstock - @moscow778 - @januara26 - @dinosolecito - @yoongislatinagff - @xyahrinx - @hi12345567 - @nochuel - @deltamoon666 - @bbkissme99 - @darkuni63 - @nansasa - @sazsazsaz - @missmin - @strxwbloody - @royallyjjk - @jaiuneamesolitaiire - @shadowyjellyfishfest - @bbgniecyy - @elayne321 - @seojunandsoju - @bun-27 - @whipwhoops - @wobblewobble822 - @whofan88 - @haneyyyyyy - @lostgirlinthewoodss - @secfir - @btspurplesky - @elleflying07 - @pamzn - @megseungmin - @selenophileforlife - @idkjustlovingbts - @seonghwaexile - @catlove83

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achy-boo · 9 months

Text

Price for Falling in Love

Summary: Loving a fae is something nobody even thought of. A human fallen in love with a fae but said fae..has his eyes on another person. Why is love so painful with those with a disease of unrequited love?

Ship: Malleus x GN!reader

Word count: 1,615 words

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Warning: Angst, unrequited love, death(reader dies), Malleus is already in love, reader is a Diasmonia 2nd year Student, gore

Recommend Listen to: Goodbye by Circus-P ft Hastume Miku + Heath by Okame P ft Hastume Miku

Love. Is it a blessing or a curse?

For you..It is a blessing. You think love needs trust, affection, loyalty and all that lovely crap. But if that is true..why does a certain fae not know about your love for him? You were a regular Diasomina student in Night Raven College and you are a second year. You fall in love with Malleus Draconia, the head warden of Diasomnia and future prince. You know, everyone and their grandparents knew you were in love with him but…Malleus didn’t know that. No, he has his attention towards the new magicless student named Yuuken. Even though it is wrong, you can not help but feel a bit of jealousy whenever you see Yuuken and Malleus hanging out together. You heard Yuuken’s story, immediately felt sad for Yuuken and even asked him to be your friend in private.

‘Love is fine. Love is getting closer.’ You thought to yourself in a naive way as if you were so pleased with everything in your life. In Yuuken’s room, helping him study when you felt a pain in your lungs, turning around and coughing. To say you were horrified when you see blooded blue roses and daffodils in the palms on your hand is an understatement, you were..speechless at the sight. “[Name},” Yuuken spoke up after he saw you standing still. “Are you okay? You are quiet-” Yuuken watches you show the blooded flowers in a way which makes Yuuken feel worried and concerned for you. “Yuuken,” You slowly speak up after a moment of silence. “W-What is this? W-Why am I coughing up these?” The magicless student just stands up and slowly walks towards you with a concerned and serious expression. “You..have..hanahaki disease. A disease of unrequited love.” This shocks you to your core as Yuuken later explains the hanahaki disease.

Hanahaki Disease..one of the two unrequited love diseases. Those who have hanahaki disease will start coughing up flowers. The person will have two choices: Confess their love or get surgery. But if they confess their love to the crush and their love was rejected, the hanahaki disease will claim another victim and if they have surgery, they will live; however they will never have feelings for the person they once loved. The Hanahaki Disease is a very rare yet tragic disease that there are very few reported cases.

“So..[name], who do you fall in love with?” Yuuken asks the question to which you answer. “Malleus Draconia. However, he did not know about this..my love for him.” you started to cry while Yuuken hugged you tightly as he knows how dangerous yet tragic that disease is to love. “You have to get surgery to remove these flowers..” You heard Yuuken but you..simply refused because you never think that you will have this disease.

“I will not have the surgery..I would rather die than lose my feelings.” Yuuken only looks at you for a second before taking a deep breath. “I see. I will keep this a secret but we have to meet up secretly. If you do not want anyone to worry, trust me with this secret.” You were hesitant and you want to suffer this alone but you can not deny..seeing how Yuuken is so kind to you with no hidden intentions unlike certain people. So the promise was kept between two students one who is Diasomina student and a magicless student

Malleus was confused by your actions. You were spending less time with him, avoiding him even in the hallways and class. He even watches you hang out with the first years, the second years with a pout on his face, he thinks that you are his friend..a friend who never abandoned him and you just ignore him completely. Lilia is not a fool..he had seen everything despite being the sneaky and mischievous third year. Yet..he cannot help but feel suspicious of you and Yuuken’s behavior. Secretly meeting each other, hearing your coughs while Yuuken comforts you and you both even left the meeting place with no evidence. He needs answers to this so when you and Yuuken are at the woods for another secret meeting, he appears behind Yuuken and speaks joyfully.

“Hello fellow lads,” You and Yuuken jumped in surprise when Lilia spoke. “A wonderful day in NRC, no? However I can not help but notice that you two are acting so..what is the word?..Ah! Sus are you young lads spoke of.” Yuuken gulps in nervousness as Lilia keeps speaking. “No there is nothing wrong with that but..I want an explanation from either of you two.” Silence fills the air as you three did not speak a word..that is until. “Lilia-senpai.” Yuuken speaks. “We have something to tell you but you must promise that you won’t make a peep of it to anyone..not even Tsunotaro.”

Lilia was…not expecting that from the magicless student but he did not know why this ‘secret’ shouldn’t reach Malleus’s ears. “Explain to me about this and I will determine whether to follow that promise or not.” You look at your feet, biting your lip however you gather your courage to speak. “Lilia..I have hanakai disease..” your voice is..not as strong and confident as Lilia remembers. “W-Who do you fall in love with?” Lilia knows the answer but he wants to hear it from your mouth. “Malleus Draconia. But I will not get surgery..I would rather..perish than lose my feelings for Mally..” Then suddenly, you started to cough up bloody green petals harshly which Yuuken later helped you clean up and take deep breaths with you.

Lilia was..worry..scared and now deep concern for you. But since this is your wish…he had no choice but to accept it and follow the promise. Lilia and Yuuken only watched as your health is slowly declining. Pale skin, hollow cheeks, your eyes are bloodshot due to crying but you always have a smile on your face even when you can’t walk without looking like a skeleton. ‘This is your wish..we have no choice but to accept it.’ Yuuken and Lilia both speak in their minds while Malleus is oblivious to everything. Oh that poor poor boy..he will soon learn the terrible news that will happen tonight.

“My time is nearing.” You look at the night sky through the window in the empty classroom with Lilia and Yuuken. “It is hard..to live any longer as this disease is slowly killing me. I want to confess my feelings to Malleus but I..I cannot.” You chuckle weakly to yourself. “I think my fear of rejection has finally won.” Lilia went up to you, gave you a peck on the forehead as he saw you like a little sibling/child to him. Yuuken just hugged you tightly with tears flowing down his cheeks. “I will never forget you, [name]. You make my first year in NRC..worth it..Rest in Peace..” When he pulled away from the hug and took a few feet back.

You felt your lungs ache in pain as flowers started to grow rapidly, filling them up. You cough, gag and scratch your neck to breathe. You were tearing up as blood and bloodied flowers began to land on the ground where you had stood. You never noticed you had fallen on the ground until you saw the ceiling. You kept..choking on the flower petals but..you slowly stop resisting the urge to stop the disease from claiming you. As you stared at the ceiling, you felt warmth..but not one but two. It was Yuuken and Lilia! They hugged you as you took your final breaths. Lilia hummed a lullaby he once hummed to Malleus, making you tear up. “Thank..you..for..accepting my wish..” You spoke so weakly that Yuuken wanted to cry like a baby. You had passed on peacefully in both your vice warden and the magicless student’s arms with a small smile on your face.

The news of your death spreads like wildfire, reaching the ears of many..even the lonely future heir of Thorne valley, Malleus Draconia. He was heartbroken by your death but was horrified when Lilia reported that you had fallen in love with him. “[Name]..is in love with me?” Malleus asked Lilia in a tone of disbelief. “Yes, Malleus. They were in love with you.” Before Malleus even tried to deny it, Lilia then spoke. “Think back to those memories you had with [name] and answer this. Is your relationship with them romantic or platonic?” Now that got Malleus into the memory lane, remembering each memory he has of you. The flirty banters, the playful yet cute nicknames you both give each other, the brushes of your fingers and then felt the spark in their veins. It is all there! Their actions are not..platonic. “It was..romantic. I was..too blind to see it.” He looks at Lilia for a while before tearing up. “Lilia..what did I do to [name]?” Malleus just broke down in front of Lilia who later hugged him silently, crying along with him.

It was a price for falling in love. But it was your price for falling in love with a fae like Malleus. It is not either you or Malleus’s fault. Fate is cruel but since you have passed away, you take away a piece of everyone in NRC’s hearts..and leave Malleus now regretting his actions. You never want to lose your love to Malleus and..it is your downfall. Rest in Peace [name]. You live a good life.

Taglist: @anxious-twisted-vampire @yukii0nna @marrondrawsalot @another-twisted-wonderland-fan @captain-liminal @rrxaiky @areislol @dxmoness @kalims @ryuryuryuyurboat @mhiieee @hanafubukki @bertry3 @asoulsreverie @sennachi @ainescribe @yumeko2sevilla @the-weirdos-mind @zeina-is-bored @cupids-chamber (Idk..) @sakka-kyuu @abyssthing198 @sweetlyvibe

Please do not copy, translate or heavily imitate my work

#malleus x reader #malleus x y/n #malleus x you #twst malleus #Twisted wonderland malleus #twst angst #malleus draconia

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scriptlgbt · 2 months

Note

I have a deaf trans character who went completely deaf in his teens. He is on T. Is it normal for him to be very conflicted on how he sounds to people? Would he be scared, especially when he starts passing more because the voice in his head will always be his old voice? Would he try to ask people to describe exactly how his voice sounds? Is it okay if he really wants a 'cure' due to this and never cared before he came out? Doesn't actually get the cure though.

I'm hard of hearing so my qualifications for answering this are limited. I can hear my own voice. This is my frame of reference here. I hope that deaf trans people can chime in.

When my voice dropped, I could physically feel the change when I talked. I would go to say something in the way I normally would, but it would feel more strained, or I would feel my voice break. (Hard to explain this feeling... It's like a pressure just gives way and I can feel my voice go softer? I don't know.)

I think in general, it's normal to feel self-conscious when your voice is changing. People who have known you with a higher voice seeing you for the first time in a year might be surprised and comment on your voice. Mine changed over a really short timespan so I had more people notice the change and comment on it and usually people expressed they were a big fan. I had platonic friends say it was hot, even. And I think, at least in my own trans community, there's a lot of celebration when people go through milestone changes.

The voice in my head has never been of any particular range or pitch. Sometimes there's an intonation to it, and if I focus, I can imagine a sound so clearly it nearly becomes hallucination. But my normal inner voice is more of just general language, maybe even closer to text than sound. This is another one of those things that varies with everyone.

I think that the story you're describing with your questions strikes me as an unusual level of hyperfixation on this. There are definitely people who do fixate on one specific dysphoric trigger, usually either isolated from trans community or whose only trans community are people obsessed with "passing" and coming across as cis enough. This usually speaks to an unhealthy community surroundings and a very big sense of danger in some way, whether founded in reality or not.

But I also don't see why this character wouldn't want to de-prioritize voicing if he has these concerns to this extreme of a degree. We (or me anyway) live in a society which is oralist. Everyone is assumed to communicate via oral language, and this is audist (part of the oppression against deaf and hard of hearing people). This is going to depend extremely on individual access, but, if this character has access to resources to learn the local sign language, this seems like a normal option. It's only really helpful if you know other people to sign with, but that usually comes more easily once you take the step to start learning in the first place. Some d/hh people also use other means of communicating, like typing.

There are some people I know who sometimes go nonspeaking and who carry a notepad for that reason, and will use this to interface with clerks or friends or whoever else they need to. There's also AAC in general.

None of this is to say that these things don't mean facing oppression, harassment, misunderstandings and assumptions from strangers. But I do know that some of the folks I know who use nonspeaking methods of communication are sometimes gendered differently by strangers who do not hear their voice. If this is truly that severe of an anxiety, this is probably the route the character would go.

But I don't think this level of hyperfixation on this is necessarily normal. I think wishing for a cure gets into some really big existentialism, like, what if this extremely core part of me were entirely different? It also assumes that deafness is necessarily a disease that requires cure, rather than something that just happens sometimes, which might or might not be related to some pathology or pathological origin.

I'm sorry to keep bugging them with my tags, but I rec reading work by @cripplecharacters.

But overall I'd just avoid writing this if you haven't experienced it. It's a really specific kind of experience and anxiety. I don't know your identities or anything, but if you are cis and hearing, I would probably just come across this and see it as weird and almost like... making these identities into an unnecessarily traumatizing spectacle. These can be things real people experience that can be represented, but they aren't for every writer to write. Not until people from those experiences write on them and get adequate success from that.

-mod nat

#mod nat #anonymous #trans #writeblr #writing advice #trans characters #deaf #deaf/hoh #testosterone #trans: bodies #trans: voices #trans: voice

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rebo-chan · 2 months

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Hello, everyone. To today's episode of Tumblr user Rebo-chan loses her mind and assigns each and every Vongola guardian a flower that I have painstakingly searched high and low for (I wish I was being dramatic, I got too invested in this as I worked on it). Is this done in a state of mania? Perhaps, but I am diseased by COVID-19 as we speak and this is what I will do with the time I am meant to be resting with. Nonetheless we must get started. Content under the cut, because I can NEVER make a short post. It's against my core beliefs clearly.

Sawada Tsunayoshi:

The European Orange Lily (Lilium bulbiferum)

My reasoning for this starts with the fact that the "lily" itself has a lot of different meanings, but the important aspect of the lily is that its considered the spring flower and represents often meanings of renewal and rebirth. The very messaging for our sweet boy, a life restarted after he meets his mentor. An orange lily specifically has meanings dipped into warmth, joy, passion (In regards to his devotion to those he loves), 'welcoming' to new opportunities in your life (lol), and most importantly - confidence and pride. Something that he grows to be over the course of his renewal, pride in his friends. Confidence in his strength to protect them. KHR is a story about a nobody becoming somebody strong enough to protect them, even and especially when they falter themselves. It should also be noted that in Hanakotoba (Japanese flower language), orange lilies represent 'revenge and hatred'. Which I think is a factor of Tsuna we can't ignore, as sweet as he is, TYL Tsuna's actions become darker the more you think about them. Tsuna can and has killed when a villain has overstepped too far, and never forget that he just wanted to know "who" Yamamoto's attacker was. For no reason, just to look at him, maybe shake his hand lol. Fr though, that boy's made of fire, both to keep his loved ones warm and to burn their enemies. I think the orange lily fits him nicely.

Also yes, I'll do my best to color-code these flowers~

Gokudera Hayato:

A Red Fressia

So, its quite hard actually to find any sort of 'red' flowers that aren't about some sort of romantic-esque devotion. Just being a red flower inherently puts you in that category of 'passion, love, marriage' meanings when it comes to flowers. It's a real struggle, but luckily he's our only red character amongst the Vongola kids. Okay, so the Freesia is represented by the concept of friendship and ultimate trust. I think it was easier for me to find a flower that represents devotion or duty and tack it on to Gokudera, but I think that's just looking at him on the surface. The story behind the freesia is that the botanist who found them in South Africa decided to name it after his friend as a symbol of their friendship. Very lovely :)<3 For all of Gokudera's dutiful affection for Tsuna, a lot of it is based on the fact that Tsuna was his first friend and the person who he trusted first. His eventual character growth and bonding with the other guardians came as he allowed himself to trust them, when he realized that his 'duty' that he believed to be absolute was above his bonds. Rather, it's his bonds that strengthen his resolve to be the perfect right hand man. Due to the intense representation of friendship and trust, freesias are given to a loved one to represent commitment to them, not unlike Gokudera's commitment to Tsuna and therefore the Vongola family unit. It should also be noted that in Hanakotoba, freesias also have a negative meaning which is childishness and immaturity which I do feel is something that Gokudera has to work through in order to become the best version of himself and has done quite well at by the end of the series. He's our little friendship blossom :)<3 Yamamoto Takeshi: Himalayan Blue Poppy

Let me start this by complaining that 'blue' flowers are so fucking rare, it took me forever to find something matched and was also color-coded with Yamamoto, that didn't dip into too indigo, because of the rarity of a nicely blue flower. To start, blue as a color has all those lovely Yamamoto vibes of being calming, easy on the mind, tranquility, all that beautiful stuff we know Yamamoto to be. (It's almost like Amano color-coded her characters guys..) Poppies themselves got a bit of cultural significance in the West, being the flowers given to WW1 soldiers after they'd passed as a way of remembrance. They're also known for growing in desolate war-torn areas, just a patch of poppies as well as having many soldiers buried with a poppy with them in honor. With that the poppy itself has themes of death, honor, lessons, tradition and remembrance. With Yamamoto’s connection to the Poppy flower, Yamamoto himself is..pretty death-coded. HEAR ME OUT. HEAR !! ME OUT!!!! Varia arc, Squalo ‘dies’ against Yamamoto. Future arc, Tsuyoshi is killed for Yamamoto being involved with the Vongola, Shimon with Yamamoto himself getting nearly killed and then that big moment where he offers to kill Daemon in retaliation for what was done to Kaoru. While not canon as well, the primo fillers are about Yamamoto dealing with the fact he DIDNT kill daisy and how he felt he had to be less easy-natured and actually go for the kills from now on. And of course, his attempt during daily life when he could not do what he loved anymore. He’s VERY death-coded y’all. But the poppy itself isn’t just some omen of death, but the lessons one can gather from those who have passed. Yamamoto’s own battle style is about taking the lessons of those before him who carried Shigure Soen Ryu and then growing upon that to carve a new and improved future for himself and those he cares about. He adapts to their lessons, what Squalo and Tsuyoshi have to teach him. On the fly, continuing the Shigure legacy and creating more moves to eventually pass on to the one that succeeds him. In general, he carries any lessons he has up until the end of the series and tries to never make the same mistake again. Whether that’s his lessons against the Mists he’s battled, his loss against Squalo for not having a proper sword style, and though he doesn’t get a chance against Gamma again, he’s always understood the importance of teamwork. That being said, he’s not just a poppy. He’s a Himalayan Blue Poppy. You see the himalayan blue poppy has a different meaning outside that of the ones that the other poppies do. With its rarity, it also represents success, potential, pursuit of dreams, and possibility. Yamamoto is the Vongola family’s prodigy, a natural born hitman, the star baseball player on his team. Stuck at a crossroads between his dream and being able to be in a position to protect the ones he loves. An impossibly difficult choice to make, yet Yamamoto handles it with ease. He just won’t choose! He’ll do both! Which fights very nicely with the Hanakatoba meaning of the poppy. “Fun-loving” “A reminder to remember happiness.” Along with general blue color meanings of tranquility, that is Yamamoto to his core, I believe. When things get their worst, he is there to remind everyone that it is never as bad as it feels. To wash away the blood spilled, that is the role of the Vongola Rain Guardian. His crossroad isn’t an issue to him, because that’s not what he fights for! He fights to make things easier for everyone, so they may remember happiness. That sort of thing doesn’t exactly need him to make a choice on his path. Now, does it? If he’s forced to choose, he will just carve out new possibilities for himself and the ones that he loves with the lessons he’s learnt.

Lambo Bovino: Green Envy Zinnia

Contrary to the title, the green envy zinnia has nothing to do with envy. Quite the opposite, actually. The zinnia itself represents endurance (HEAR. ME. OUT LOL), lasting affection, joy, and various other things. So, the zinnia is super fucking tough, again hear me OUTTTT. They bloom all the way from springtime to autumn, something pretty unheard of from flowers which gave them their meaning. A green envy Zinnia specifically represents growth or a journey. Wishes of a healthy and successful growth. And I believe that is the hope for Lambo, as he progresses through the series. He is quite literally a child, both himself and TYL. But that’s just the thing for him, to the one that chose the guardians (Iemitsu, it’s very implied that it was Iemitsu), Lambo is an INVESTMENT. And a correct one if twenty years old Lambo was anything to go by. Not only that, the zinnia represents a joyous endurance. This doesn’t have to be painful for him, and it’s not as he’s allowed to both be a kid in Tsuna’s care while also holding on tight when told to stay out of the fight. (“You have to take the younger me wherever you go, he wants to go with you.”). And as a bit of an angsty little hehe on my part, the zinnia also represents missing those who have passed, that you remember someone and love them even now that they’re not with you. (“Seeing you all again, I thought the day would never happen. It’s making me emotional.”) Honestly, judging by how Lambo fights when he gets the opportunity to properly do it, he just isn’t weak. Destroying Kikyo’s box animal, fighting against Ooyama, and of course against Levi too. In Hanakotoba, the Zinnia represents loyalty. He is their youngest blossom, enjoying being around the one he considers a brother with hidden potentials to grow into someone with the ability to be Vongola’s shield. If the ones he loves ever make it to see that sight, of course.

Ryohei Sasagawa: Yarrow (Achillea millefolium)

Okay, so the yarrow is first of all a funky flower. If you’ve never seen OTHER colors of the yarrow flower, I implore you to google it. Especially the red ones? Why are you so pretty? Lucky enough for this flower (and me I’m starting to lose my mind here, this was a much bigger task than I thought it would be) the different colors don’t change the meaning of the flower here which is neat. It also unfortunately has no hanakotoba meaning either. So, anyway. The yarrow. It represents a warrior’s bravery, protection, and healing. The healing comes from the fact that its a commonly used herb for bruises, cuts, and sprains. There’s also huge folklore around it which affects its scientific name, as Achilles used yarrow to take care of the men he was in charge of. This flower was also used as a ward against evil, where people would hang this outside of their homes in order to protect them from evil getting inside. A superstition developed around this leading to Yarrow to be named the devil’s nettle to refer to the belief that the devil would come around and shake the yarrow that people hung up due to wanting to curse them. This flower also represents strong everlasting love, to the point where a little tradition propped up where people would shove this flower up their nostrils whenever they had a nosebleed so if they dreamt about their crush it meant that they liked them back lol. Yall there was so much rich lore on this flower, it’s super neat. More than I could fit in here. Anyway, I’m sure yall see the connection with Ryohei acting as the group older brother, being the motivating factor for them. He was the first to go up during Varia arc and set the tone for the rest of the battles, that the Vongola would win. Last to show up during future, representing that all of them had finally been reunited. A draw against Aoba, again the very first battle, almost symbolizing HOW shimon would end. He’s the strength in their arms, acting as the last person to leave in future arc until they were ready to go. Taught them and helped lead them to make decisions during that arc. It’s almost his duty to protect the younger ones, even getting up on Hibari’s case in the fillers for not helping out his younger classmen. We can’t even dismiss the way he would prefer to shield Kyoko from everything that they go through, and getting aggressive with Tsuna when Tsuna broke something he thought both of them saw eye to eye on. Not much rattles him, honestly if you pay attention to his scenes, only getting the most nervous and agitated TRULY when he fears he won’t be able to protect someone (Asking Tsuna how Kyoko reacted to the news, Tozaru getting on his case about Lambo coming to the battle) Otherwise, he’s his happy loud confident self ready to tackle on anything for the sake of the family. Destroying the misfortune that attacks the family with their own body, the yarrow represents that duty well. For every bruise the younger one gets, Ryohei has the ability to heal it. For every fear, Ryohei tackles it first. Acting as a ward and protector for his family. Hibari Kyoya

Clematis (Etoile Violette)

Clematis is a climbing flower, to start with. One of those flowers that grow along walls and vines. It’s a very adaptable flower, able to work with various environments and thrive amongst them. They’re known as the traveler’s joy, meant to wish travelers good luck and act as protection to those who pass by them. While also having a more negative reputation, having “killed” other plants by outcompeting them considered having done the devil’s work. (The plant is actually considered invasive aha oops) The clematis though, itself represents mental fortitude, cleverness, and the ability to find hope in perilous situations. Hibari himself, I mean just that back and forth reputation is just him, no? Acting as Namimori’s protector, keeping a watchful eye on the town while also being utterly terrifying for Namimori students and almost overwhelming to those competing with him. (Dino will only find escape from Hibari in death, Mukuro is the same) But, he is also undoubtedly Vongola’s wall. Similar to Ryohei, not once throughout the series really and truly faltering. The clematis itself with its representation in mental fortitude can be given to someone when they need mental strength. I think the best way to represent this is directing you to that moment in Shimon arc when Tsuna, while not physical beaten, had been mentally tormented by everything that had happened and Hibari came to his battle to Adel. A simple, but strong “Little animal, your face right now is dull. Watch my fight.” It’s in that fight Tsuna gets his mental strength back, being given a hint to answer the question he’s been stressing and faltering over. Then there’s future arc, having been the only one TYL Tsuna trusted with the plan. Kokuyo Arc, Gokudera seeing an already defeated Hibari and taking him to the battle. Varia arc, the gang realizing that if Hibari is fighting next then they may have already won it and refusing to succumb to the poison in the sky battle. Rainbow arc, Tsuna considering them in that list of people he “just expects to help him.” He has the ability to be their hope, to be another factor of their strength. Where Ryohei is holding them up on the physical aspect, Hibari is absolutely their mental strength. (Isn’t it charming that the two eldest are the pillars of their group? I think it is). Also, in Hanakotoba, the clematis represents moral beauty and order. And that’s just the kinda man who could run something like the discipline committee, isn’t? The special thing, finally is that the etoile violette represents a sense of freedom from troubles. A free man, unchained himself and choosing to help those younger than him. Sometimes for the thrill of a battle, sometimes to actually help them with the reputation of a devil. Unpredictable, but still trusted. It’s the sky that allows the clouds to roam freely, but even someday that sky will be beaten to death.

Chrome Dokuro

Lupine (Blue Bonnet)

The Lupine flower is before anything else, a second chance at life. A recovery from one’s trauma and the admiration that comes from that. Its gratitude and kindness put into one. There’s a legend around the lupine flower about a land full of drought where Native Americans had believed would be saved by selflessness and yet no one had come forward to do anything, until a young girl came forward and offered the last of her possessions. The rain came to fall at her sacrifice, and hundreds of lupines had blossomed from the ground saving the tribe from drought and hunger as the seeds of the Lupine could be harvested to be eaten. The Lupine represents that the world will always give back if you are willing to help. Chrome, from her introduction, is told to be a girl who has nothing. With two parents who want nothing to do with her and no friends by her side. She runs forward to save a kitten and is gravely injured. With neither of her parents willing to help her, Chrome wonders if she is going to die here but is offered a deal by Mukuro. It’s here that Chrome is offered her second chance and she spends the whole series trying to return the favor to Mukuro. All while healing from her own trauma, the type of trauma that “no one could care about her”, as she is offered food and bonds from Tsuna, Kyoko, Haru, I-pin, Bianchi, Hibari, and so many others. It's in her second chance that she gets to experience what life truly had to offer her, as thank you for her continued selflessness. It’s that gratitude that she represents and the never-ending desire to give when she doesn’t accept Mukuro’s assistance anymore with her organs because she can no longer give him anything now that he’s out of Vindice Prison. She resolves that she will become someone who can protect the people she and Mukuro like. Her confidence isn’t perfect and she falters quite a bit, not believing that her powers are as great as those around her. But, that’s okay, because her goodness has brought her to people who have got her back until she can figure herself out. She has Mammon to correct her when her illusions are seen through that they are well made, but she’s just dealing with professionals and that’s why they’re seen through. There’s Tsuna who relies on her blindly, never doubting her strength to protect them as he asks her to act as defense during Shimon arc and protect Enma from his attack. Alongside with Fran, she is trusted to protect Yamamoto and Gokudera in the final battle against Vindice and taken with Tsuna against Jaegar. She has a lot of space to continue growing, but Lupin also represents voracity and happiness in Hanakotoba. She has her second chance to learn all about that, or as Mukuro put it to her, “An ending is merely the beginning of another cycle.”

Rokudo Mukuro

Aconitum (Wolfsbane)

Wolfsbane is also referred to as Monkshood. This is another one with pretty rich lore with its connection to werewolves. It’s referred to as “queens of the poisons” and has a pretty negative message to it on the outside. First of all, this thing’s poison? TOUGH AS HELL. Delirium, frothing at the mouth, vision impairment, and of course the classic coma<3 It’s got an uncanny resemblance to what rabies actually looks like. Fun, right? Okay, fr though onto its meaning. Wolfsbane is an omen that danger is nearby, not unlike the unnerving feeling Tsuna gets whenever he senses Mukuro nearby. Said to have come from Hell itself, the saliva that has dripped down from Cerberus himself. Not unlike our sweet boy. But, being an omen does not always represent something bad. Is he bringing the danger to you, or is he warning you of the true danger that lies past him? It’s a little bit of both. Aconitum represents concealed wisdom and caution in decision-making. But it also DOES represent protection, a proper and true warning of the dangers of the wild. That beauty does not always mean safe. For his twisted sense of vengeance and believing that taking over the world is the only way to destroy it for the sake of what was done to him, he isn’t necessarily wrong for being enraged about what happened to him. Yet, despite his hate, he doesn’t drag those who he cares about further down into it than he has to. He sends Ken and Chikusa away when they are going to get caught, he never uses Chrome for anything besides as a vessel to help her, and he says during Rainbow arc that if he forced Fran to continue past his limits he’d be no better than those nasty adults of his past. Aconitum balances sweetly between light and darkness, similar to Mukuro. He won’t admit it, but he cares for those amongst the Vongola. He infiltrates the Millefiore and sends the Vongola information after Tsuna’s death, he helps Chrome form a barrier around Enma so he could be safe from Tsuna’s X-Burner. And, of course he teams up with Vongola’s team during the rainbow arc. These are undoubtedly kind actions, but when Tsuna gets angry at Mukuro during Rainbow claiming that he didn’t believe that Mukuro was the type to abandon his allies, Mukuro says that that was just his idea of him. Even though it was Chrome ultimately rejecting him, he instead pretended that he really was some big bad heartless person. Definitely, Mukuro is no angel, but also he’s no demon either. He’s.. just a human at the end. The aconitum’s dance with both light and dark, a flower that tries to warn, can be read both good and bad depending on how you look at it. His rejection of his ‘official’ position as part of the Mafia, yet acting as the Vongola Mist Guardian when their goals align. He’s as confusing as the duty he embodies, but he succeeds nonetheless in ensuring the family is untouchable in his deceptions. After all, the best way to fool your enemies is to fool your allies first.

#LET ME JUST SAY #When i first got this idea #I wanted to do all the vongola kid honorable mentions #Kyoko haru and the like #But I quickly realized that would have been insane #so for now heres the Vongola guardians!#It should be noted I can't represent these complex characters 100% accurately with just one flower #I'd need to make bouquets for them to do that #But I did my best!#So here's some character analysis #using flower language!#Or... is this my facade?#Using character analysis to infodump to you guys about flowers...it was a perfect excuse #I hope you guys enjoyed and I am so fucking sorry for long it is again god #I hope you guys enjoy this #lemme know your thoughts #if you agree or disagree #eakngjeh okay as for the real tags #katekyo hitman reborn #khr #sawada tsunayoshi #vongola #gokudera hayato #yamamoto takeshi #lambo bovino #chrome dokuro #hibari kyoya #rokudo mukuro #Ryohei sasagawa

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ladykissingfish · 7 months

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*Itachi in Sasori’s lab, getting his weekly blood transfusion and breathing treatment*

Sasori, checking the IV bag: Mm, this is almost empty. Now remember, when you leave here you’re to go straight to bed and rest. No strenuous activity for the next twenty-four hours. Understood?

Itachi, temporarily removing the oxygen mask from over his mouth and nose: I understand. Thank you, Sasori-san.

Sasori: Mm. *sits down across from him* You know, it’s simply fascinating to me how long you’ve managed to keep yourself alive. With your immune system being as weak as it is and you catching every little thing that comes your way. Ah, but, I suppose that’s the trademark characteristic of diseases: unpredictability.

Itachi: *nods*

Sasori: Itachi, have you given any thought at all to my proposition? I really do believe you would benefit greatly from the puppet transformation. Your core self would be there, your thoughts and personality, but your body would be better, stronger, indestructible. No more blood transfusions, no breathing treatments, no having to take dozens of pills each day just to be able to function. No more pain.

Itachi: *sighs before leaning over and switching off the breathing machine, and removing the mask*

Itachi: I appreciate your thoughtfulness in trying to help me, Sasori-san. But no matter the consequences, I’d prefer to stay in my human body. But there is one thing I’d like to ask of you. Of all of you.

Sasori: What is it?

Itachi: When … when my time comes, please, be there for Kisame. I think my death will be hard on him, and I don’t want him rushing after me, you know? He’ll fare better with people around him, so he doesn’t feel quite so alone.

Sasori: *smiles and gently pats Itachi’s shoulder* Of course; put your mind at ease about that.

Sasori: *gets up and disconnects the now-empty chair IV bag, removing the needle from Itachi’s arm*

Sasori: Alright, you can go now. Remember what I said about resting.

Itachi: *pauses, hugs Sasori, and then walks out*

*Sasori spends some time cleaning and sterilizing the area, before Deidara walks in*

Deidara: Oi, Danna, you done with Uchiha yet? I thought we could —

Sasori: *turns around, puts both arms around Deidara, and holds him close*

Deidara, startled: D-Danna! What —

Sasori: *puts his head on Deidara’s chest* Let me listen to your heart for a few moments, please. I need to.

Deidara: *gently runs his fingers through Sasori’s hair* Go ahead, Danna.

*the two stand quietly for a few minutes*

Sasori, softly: He’s so young. He’s so very young, Dei. He’s your age. I can’t imagine, I literally can’t imagine, if you … if you were to …

Deidara: It’s okay, Sasori. I know, it’s sad, hm. But it’s his choice. I don’t like him but I respect his choices.

Sasori: I know. *lifts his head and puts his hands on Deidara’s face, pulling him into a kiss* It’s a beautiful night. Let’s go for a walk. We can talk about the future.

Deidara, blushing: The future like, us getting married?

Sasori: *takes Deidara’s hand* Perhaps. OR we can discuss me turning you into a puppet before our next anniversary … it’d be a great gift for both you and me!

Deidara:

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joshsindigostreak · 5 months

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I See Hell in Your Eyes

Chapter Twelve

“I’ll never let your heart go where mine’s been.”

Vampire!Josh x Vampire!Reader

Authors Note: Hello lovelies!!! Bringing you another chapter with our Sweetheart and Boy Scout. Kind of a different chapter but I hope y’all love it! We love lore drops. As always my inbox and DMs are always open and I love feedback! Enjoy!! 🩸🖤

Word Count: 6,339

Warnings: Brief SMUT at the beginning, descriptions of disease, marital infidelity, descriptions of blood.

“Oh, fuck…”

Your thighs shook on either side of your Vampire’s head while your fingernails dug into the wooden headboard you were bracing yourself on. His mouth was firmly latched onto your core, and had been for the last three orgasms. Every time you tried to let up or move away his hands dug even harder into your thighs to keep you in place, sensitivity be damned. Followed by a muffled, “one more…” beneath you.

You were about to come again, and you were unsure if you were going to be able to remain upright afterwards. You could also feel Josh’s fangs against your folds, which not only turned you on even more but let you know that you were in for a bite soon. He had held back from biting you the whole night, as if he was testing himself to see how long he could go without giving in.

One of the benefits of Josh being a Vampire was that that skilled tongue of his never tired, and he would try to drown himself in you. It genuinely surprised you at how insatiable he was, but you’d never complain. While you had had good lovers in the past, no one had ever truly made it their mission to spoil you like Josh did. Part of you was still getting used to this amount of loving attention. It had been a long time since you had felt anything remotely close.

At this point you were grinding onto his mouth, chasing your release. It wasn’t long before you were hurtled over the edge, crying out even louder than before as one hand hit the wall and the other was buried in his curls to keep him in place. He moaned against your core, sending shockwaves through your body as he continued to work you through it.

As with the other rounds, as soon as you tried to get up he held you back down.

“Boy Scout I don’t think I-”

However, this time it wasn’t to dive back into you. Instead he turned his head to his left and sank his fangs into your thigh, unable to hold back any longer.

You relaxed into him as he drank from you, and a serene smile spread across your face. Your grip in his hair softened, and you lovingly moved the sweaty curls off his forehead.

Meanwhile, your Vampire was lost in his own world. Or more accurately, your world and memories. Josh immediately recognized the man with you from previous memories, and his brows knitted together as the scene played in his mind.

It was late, and you and Collin were being Those People by keeping the boutique open well past their closing time.

“I really like this one…” he whispered in your ear which caused you to giggle a little too loudly. The two of you were looking at a perfume display in the back of the store. “I want to smell it on you…later…” he whispered even quieter, smirking as he did so.

You looked down at the bottle, Bouquet de la Reine was written on the front label. It was very, very floral, particularly with Jasmine notes. But you liked it, and Collin seemed to like it even more. But one detail stopped you from committing to it.

“Aren’t you worried she’ll also smell it later?”

Collin rolled his eyes, “even if she does I can come up with an excuse. She never asks questions anyway, you know that.”

You turned to him and smiled, not even batting an eye at what he said, “let’s get this one!”

The last thing Josh saw was a smarmy smile on Collin's face before the memory vanished. With one last swallow of your blood, he carefully pulled his fangs from your flesh. He looked up to stare at you, loving the view he had from this angle. His hands released your thighs and you collapsed next to him. The dim lighting in the room made the sheen of sweat that covered you nearly shine, and the flush in your cheeks even more pronounced. He shifted so he was laying next to you, and leaned over your face before softly lowering his mouth to yours, allowing you to taste yourself in more than one way.

Later on, after you cleaned up and were settled back in bed before the sun rose, Josh couldn’t help but replay that memory over and over in his head. He wasn’t jealous that you had past lovers, at least not a lot, but he was very curious as to Collin’s importance since you had never mentioned him at all.

You turned to your Vampire, ready to cuddle up and sleep through the day. But he had a weird look on his face. The wheels in his head were turning behind those big brown eyes.

“Sweetheart…can I ask you something?” His voice was soft, timid even.

You nearly snorted at him. He could ask you anything, he knows that.

“Of course you can, Boy Scout,” letting out a small airy laugh.

Josh sat up, wanting to face you properly. He didn’t want to be nosy, but he had to ask at least one question so that his mind would calm down about the subject.

“Whose…whose Collin?”

The sound of his name made you freeze. It had been nearly a century since you had even talked about him, which was on purpose. You hated even thinking of the man.

“How do you-”

“From your blood, babe,” he reached over for your hand, trying to convey that he was only curious.

Of course. Of fucking course. You had been very naive to think that he wouldn’t come across any memories of Collin. You had 35o years of memories, what were the chances he’d land on those. You mentally kicked yourself for not even preparing for this question, or for him to be brought up. But you were optimistically thinking that Collin was dead and buried, both figuratively and emotionally. You sat there, staring at your curious lover, trying to figure out a place to start.

“Collin was…Collin was someone from my past.”

“I gathered that, sweetheart.”

You bit your lip before continuing, “we were together for a short period of time. Nearly three years.”

Three years is a long time, at least to Josh who was still within the first year of being Undead. Collin was more significant than he thought.

“Oh…an ex boyfriend?”

You shook your head, “not necessarily, but we were together physically.” You were ashamed of the other details. That he had been married that entire time, and that you were complacent in his infidelity. “I’m not very proud of it, Josh.”

This made him even more confused and curious, “why?”

You took a few deep breaths, preparing your words.

“He was…well he was married all of those years.” You looked down at your joined hands, not able to look at Josh quite yet. You didn’t want him to think that this was a habit of yours.

He was silent, but his thumb rubbed across your knuckles.

“It was a long time ago and it was the first and last time I’d ever been in that situation before and I’m not proud of it ok but it happened and-”

Your rambling was cut off with his lips on yours, both silencing you and comforting you. As he pulled away, your eyes betrayed you and began to water.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” he whispered.

But you were you. You didn’t want this hanging over your head, anxious on the other shoe dropping and Collin coming up again down the line. No, you needed to rip the bandaid off.

“No it’s ok I just haven’t spoken about this in a long time,” you started.

“We met in a park…”

It was Spring, late Spring. The sun had set a little over two hours ago, and you were taking your evening stroll through one of the parks near the hotel you were staying at. Most of the flowers had closed up for the night already, but you were still able to smell them as you passed. At this point your routine was simple: walk the park, spot someone alone, Persuade them to follow you behind the trees, have your dinner, and send them on their way with no memory of the encounter. When it came to hunting, less was more. You never fed in the same place twice, and you always varied on who you chose to lead away from the path.

Tonight, the moon was half full, with just enough light in the sky to cast perfectly convenient shadows in the local flora. Your dress was a very calculated shade of green, that would help you blend in even more. Not too emerald to stick out amongst the more dull colors of the general public, but just green enough to look at home in the ivy.

You were on your third lap of the park, and out of sheer boredom you chose to sit down on a lonely bench along the path. You hoped you hadn’t missed your window to pick up a proper meal. Just before you gave up and took another lap, a man sat down beside you. A rather striking man.

“What is a woman as beautiful as you doing in a park all by herself? Alone at night?”

Your gaze snapped in his direction, ready to Persuade him behind a tree and take your chance. But his icy blue eyes stopped you. They reminded you of a wolf with the way they looked right through you. They were eyes so pretty that you knew he could get whatever he wanted by a mere expression. The rehearsed lines died on your tongue.

“Can’t a woman enjoy the night air?” You managed to get out.

“Well of course. But by yourself? You never know who is lurking around the corner.”

If only he knew.

“What are you suggesting, sir?” Your patience was growing thin, but not enough to overpower the sheer awe you had at admiring his cheekbones.

He smiled in a way that didn’t scream smarmy, it was in a way that was genuine, and in a way that made you intrigued.

“Oh I’m merely offering my arm for the evening. So you can enjoy this…night air…unbothered.”

Your face twitched as you swallowed down the laugh that threatened to bubble up. Instead, you gave a pleasant smile back.

“And does my guardian for the evening have a name?”

He slowly reached down to take your hand and bring it up to his lips, “Collin Irving, at your service m’lady.” He looked up from your knuckles with a cheeky glint in his eyes. Those bright blue eyes.

You relented, and the two of you stood up and started down the path. Chatting with Collin was easy. He had a charm about him that was rare, and a captivating way to tell stories. He had you giggling like a schoolgirl, and you weren’t the giggling type. He asked about you of course, and the most you told him was your name and that you were traveling from America. He asked a few more probing questions but at this point in your life you were an expert at giving someone just enough information that made them feel like they knew more than they did.

The evening came to an end a little over two hours later, having realized the two of you had walked the park nearly five times. You still hadn’t eaten, and you still hadn’t Persuaded him in order to do so. By the third lap you realized you didn’t want to make him a meal. He was too charming to be a one time thing. The thought of Persuading him to forget your face and to forget his night in the park made your chest seize. No, that couldn’t happen. Not to him.

He ended up walking you back to your hotel, dropping you off just far enough to keep people from starting any rumors. But close enough that he memorized the hotel, and thought of your beaming face and delicate laugh all the way home. To his wife.

“We started meeting up at the park every night. It was innocent at first. Just two people walking and talking. The chaste ways of that time period helped, but eventually fingers brushing against each other turned into a proper hand hold, and held hands turned into embraces, which turned into kisses in the dark which led to-,” you stopped, trying to read Josh’s face. He had sat perfectly still the whole time, fingers laced with yours with the occasional squeeze.

“Felt like a fairytale, didn’t it?” He offered softly.

You looked at the wall and sniffed, “you could say that. It was a few weeks later that I found out that he was married. It was such a cliched moment. I ran into them on the street and had to immediately pretend I didn’t know them at all. But the next night, he showed up at the park like always and “explained” the situation about how it was a marriage of convenience that their parents set up when they were kids and that they were more friends than anything.” You looked up at the ceiling, reliving the embarrassment of that moment all over again. “I should’ve called bullshit. I should’ve Persuaded him to forget me and move on. But I didn’t. Collin had this weird way of making everything feel exciting, like it was our private adventure…and I didn’t want that to end.” Your hands idly fiddled with his fingers, “one of the downsides of immortality is that the monotony of time will eat at you. So when something exciting happens that breaks up that feeling, you want it to stay. Everyone goes through it, and you will too one day. It’s just the order of things.”

Josh couldn’t wrap his mind around that: the thought of life feeling monotonous around you. But he understood you knew more than him on the subject.

“Did he know that you were a…”

“Vampire? Not at first, but eventually he found out.”

Josh widened his eyes, “that sounds risky as hell.”

You blew a lock of hair out of your face, “a big risk but the one time I did use my Persuasion on him was that he would forget about the existence of Vampire’s when not in my presence, and to never question why I could only meet at night. But I think…I think he liked having a secret of mine to keep too…”

“Show them to me,” Collin requested while his thumbs ran along your lips. You were sitting up in bed, wrapped up together in the sheets while he cradled your face in his hands. Your hair was completely down and falling around your shoulders and frizzy from the previous activities. The floral scent of the perfume he had bought you hung in the air. That delicious mix of bergamot and jasmine clung to everything, especially on the human before you.

You knew what he wanted to see.

You gave him a look, your eyes sparkling from the oil lamps that lit up the room, “say please…”

He smiled and obliged, “show them to me, please, my pet.”

Slowly, you opened your mouth in front of his face, and as slowly and dramatically you could, you let your fangs descend from your upper jaw.

Collins eyes widened in wonder, having never seen any Vampire fangs before let alone yours. Carefully one of his thumbs reached over and touched one lightly, admiring the length of them and how well they suited your face.

“Why, what a treasure you are…,” his voice was barely a whisper, and you would be lying if you said you didn’t feel like a schoolgirl with the way he was marveling at you. No one had ever looked at you like this in decades. His thumb toyed with the point of one, “are they shar-”

You backed away before he could cut himself on them. In the eight months you had been together, you hadn’t fed on him. You had thought about it…you had thought about it a lot, but you restrained yourself. Collin wasn’t food. Collin was…something else.

“Yes, they are,” you said firmly.

“Does it hurt? To be bitten?”

You tilted your head at him, knowing what he was getting at,”of course it hurts…but it can feel good to some…”

He craned his neck, offering himself to you, “show me.”

You leaned in and narrowed your eyes, “aren’t you worried I could kill you?”

His blue eyes locked on you, “but you won’t, Pet,…we both know you won’t…”

You stared at him, knowing he was right, Leaning in, you grazed your fangs against his skin, They sank into his flesh, and he cried out in a mix of surprise and pain, but quickly he was moaning underneath you as you straddled his lap.

Thus started the routine. He’d come over, you’d fuck, you’d bite him, you’d heal the wounds before he went home, and the cycle would start all over again a few nights later.

“It stayed like that for the next two and a half years,” you sniffed again and rubbed your nose.

Josh hated the sound of the whole thing. Not because it was another man, but because he was seeing red flags everywhere and he was helpless to stop whatever you were going to tell him next.

“He called you, ‘pet?’” His upper lip was twisted in disgust at how demeaning that was.

Your eyes slowly met his, “...yeah…it was definitely not my favorite but at the time I didn’t care.”

Josh licked his lips and adjusted his hands as he held yours.

“He made it feel fun though,” you said distantly, “I wasn’t always in that hotel. Sometimes I’d be at his summer house in the country, and his staff would be informed that I had a skin condition that rendered me unable to be in the sun at all. Most of them nodded and did their duties and the ones that didn’t I just Persuaded into doing it anyway. If I wasn’t there I’d be joining him on business trips. He’d buy me whatever I wanted, even when I said I didn’t need it, send me flowers whenever-”

“Which ones?” Josh interjected.

“What?”

“Which flowers?”

The question caught you off guard and you blinked at him, “Jasmine usually. He said they reminded him of that first night in the park.”

Josh nodded and made a mental note to never buy you Jasmine flowers, no matter what.

You continued, “not to be a cliche but all good things come to an end.”

The clock read 10:30, and he was late.

It was December, and you were patiently waiting for Collin to show up at the hotel you were currently residing. He had insisted that when he was in the city that you were to have nothing but the best living-wise, and the suite you were in was written off as a vaguely worded business expense. As long as the numbers added up at the end of the day, the labels didn’t matter according to him.

You sat on the bench in front of the window, looking down at the street hoping to see any signs of him. Collin was never late. When he told you what time he’d be somewhere he always meant it. So where was he? You sipped on your wine while you tried not to imagine the worst.

Before you could form any more scenarios in your head, the door burst open and suddenly your blue-eyed boy was in front of you. You jumped up in surprise and met him halfway across the room, and immediately hopped to wrap your legs around his waist.

He showered your face with kisses, a usual greeting but he was far more enthusiastic this time.

“Well I’m happy to see you too, Mr. Iring,” you giggled and leaned in to capture his lips.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, “Pet, I have the most amazing news.”

Your mind whirled with possibilities, “what is it?”

“She’s pregnant!”

You blinked, “who…?”

“Eleanor, of course!”

The blood started pumping in your ears, and you slowly let your legs down to stand in front of him. His wife was pregnant. The thought of them being together physically was something you never thought about. Not because you didn’t think it wasn’t happening, but because you never wanted that image in your mind. However Collin always made it sound like they never even held hands, let alone that.

You tried to keep your expression neutral, “when…when did this happen?”

He was still grinning from ear to ear, clearly not reading the energy of the room, “the week of my birthday last month.”

“Your birthday? But we were in Spain on your birth-”

“Yes, but when we came back and I had to stop by the manor for those three days? She practically pounced on me the second I walked through the door. You should’ve seen our maid’s face!”

You didn’t find it as funny as Collin did.

Unable to keep it to yourself, your thoughts spilled out, “I thought you were never with her that way.”

“Pet, of course it happened…it just happened so infrequently that it felt like I was never with her.”

You shouldn’t have felt disgusted, you had no right to, but you couldn’t help it. Silently you retreated back to the bench and picked up your wine glass.

Collin sighed and followed you over, sitting on the opposite side of the bench.

His voice was quiet, “it will mean, however, that our arrangement will have to come to an end.”

Your eyes snapped in his direction, “why?”

“My responsibilities are different now, Pet. I need to be around more. The midwife thinks it's going to be a boy, and Eleanor agrees. I hope they’re right. Just thinking of another Irving to pass on the name? The business one day? The thought of becoming a father has always been on my mind. Especially the idea of an heir. A true legacy, Pet.”

You scoffed at how draconic it sounded, “you never mention that to me.”

Collin threw his hands up in defeat, “I’m sorry… was there ever a good time to bring it up? It's not like it would happen with you.”

Your eyes bore into his, “what’s that supposed to mean.”

“Oh don’t read into that, you know exactly what I mean. Even if something horrible happened and you ended up being my wife, it's not like you could-”

“Not like I could what?” Your eyes were watering now.

“Your kind can’t…have children, can they?”

His words slapped you in the face. There it was. The real reason.

“I’m sorry I’m so useless to you now because I can’t produce a dozen little Irvings for you. I’m glad Eleanor is there to help you live your dreams, Collin, Congratulations,” you practically spat at him.

“No no don’t be like that,” he tried to grasp your hands but you wrenched them away from his grasp.

“If you know so much about my kind, then why aren’t you afraid I could kill you right now?”

He tilted his head and looked into your eyes, and mirrored the same words he had said years prior, “but you won’t, Pet…we both know you won’t.”

You sniffed, keeping eye contact with him as you rose up on your knees and took his chin in your hand, keeping his gaze locked with yours.

“You’re right. That would be too easy. Instead…,” you felt your power rise up from your throat, “instead the second you leave this room, you will never contact me again. Every time you consider it, the thought disappears as soon as it's formed. But you’ll remember me. You’ll remember my face, my smell, my flesh in your hands, and worst of all, you’ll miss my teeth in your neck. I will haunt you until the day you die, Collin Irving. You’ll never feel satiated again. Do I make myself clear?”

He blinked once, and slowly said, “...yes…”

“Leave. Now.”

He wordlessly stood up and exited the room, not even looking back as he shut the door. When you couldn’t hear his footsteps down the hall anymore, your face finally crumpled and the tears fell. The other shoe dropped, and the gravity of the last three years finally hit you.

The grip Josh had on your hands was getting tighter the further you got in your story, and his jaw was clenched so tightly you thought he’d crack a tooth. The thought of anyone talking to you like that made his blood boil.

“Did you ever see him again?” He asked tightly.

“Twice, actually. But they were years apart.”

It was 1873, and you were back in London.

You weren’t even properly visiting, just passing through on your summer holiday. But there you were, standing under an awning waiting for the dusk to fully give in to the night. Across the street from you blue eyes were locked on you, in the same way they had all those years ago. But your ex-lover wasn’t alone. No, beside him was a young boy who was more focused on the toy boat in his hands than anything else.

Before you could stop yourself you were crossing the street, standing in front of Collin for the first time in a decade. He hadn’t changed much, a few more creases around his eyes and his light hair had faded to an even lighter shade. But his stare was the same, and the charm still oozed off of him even as he stood there silent.

“Pet,” he whispered.

You hated the way your heart lurched at his voice. He didn’t deserve a reaction like that, but you had it anyway.

“Collin.”

He seemed unable to stop himself from rambling, “I think about you every day, Pet. I can’t believe you’re standing in front of me again. Are you in London long? Where are you staying? Maybe I could-”

“Papa, can we go home now?” The child’s voice interrupted any chance of you answering any of Collin’s questions.

You looked down at him. His toy boat was under his arm, and he was standing a little behind Collin, a little shy. His hair was auburn, if not a little darker, and his eyes were on the brown side of hazel. He didn’t have any of Collin’s features. He had Eleanor’s, that much was clear.

“And what is your name, young sir?” Your voice was light and friendly, as he was completely innocent to the situation surrounding his father and yourself.

“Matthew…,” he answered, looking down at his shoes.

You smiled at him and turned back to Collin.

“How old is he?”

The question seemed to sober up Collin, and his eyes were steady as he answered, “turned ten earlier this month.”

The understanding silence between you was deafening.

“Decided to take him out for a bit, let his mum have a few hours to herself.”

Stiffly, you asked, “how is Eleanor?”

“She’s doing well. A little tired these last few weeks as our youngest have been poorly-”

Your eyes flickered down at Matthew and then back up at Collin.

“Youngest?”

Collin swallowed, as if he got caught saying something he wasn’t supposed to.

“Yes there’s…there’s four of them all together.”

You needed to leave, you had heard enough.

“Four?”

The energy between you was getting more awkward by the second.

“Yes it's Matthew here,” he patted the boy’s shoulder, “then our Colleen, and then the twins…Edwin and Jasmine.”

The name Jasmine stood out like a sore thumb. You hadn’t worn that particular fragrance in years, but you remembered how his favorite perfume on you smelled vividly of that particular flower. Did he really name his child after…? Your nostrils flared slightly at the notion.

“Oh…well I hope the little ones feel better soon,” you looked down at his first born, “it was nice to meet you, Matthew.” The child gave you a shy look before hiding even more behind Collin.

This was too much. You needed to leave for your own sanity.

“Well, it was nice to see you again, Collin,” you turned around and started walking as quickly as you could to blend in with the humans.

“Wait! We can walk you-”

“Goodbye, Collin,” you called over your shoulder, making a left down a side street and using your full speed to distance yourself as fast as possible.

“Collin…named his daughter…Colleen? How original,” Josh said as he raised his eyebrows and blinked.

“I wish I could say I was surprised, but Collin’s biggest fan was himself so…it tracked,” you shrugged and ran a hand through your hair. You were getting tired, but you had to finish what you had started.

“The last time I saw him was less awkward, but even more depressing,” you began.

It was 1922, and over 60 years had passed since you had last seen Collin Irving. It was a new century, a new time, and the only reason you thought of him again was because you had run across an article from across the pond that stated he had finally handed over the business to his oldest son, citing poor health.

Was it pettiness? Curiosity? Or the fact that you were a glutton for punishment that led you to the sidewalk in front of his manor. It was nearly midnight, and only a few rooms seemed to be lit from within. As you made your way to the front door you couldn’t help but notice the Jasmine vines that were climbing the front of the house.

Persuading yourself into the house was second nature, and as one of Collins maids led you up the stairs to his room the empty state of the house struck you as well. They could be sleeping, you thought, but it was still strange to only see staff walking about the halls.

The door was opened for you and you were ushered inside. When the door was shut, your eyes scanned the room and spotted the four-poster bed on the far wall. There he was, propped up against the headboard with several pillows, dozing with his chin tucked to his chest. He looked so frail, his skin looked nearly gray.

You took a seat on the edge of the bed, silently watching your former flame. He started to cough, rather violently, which made him wake up and reach for a handkerchief next to him on the bed. He was so focused on coughing into the cloth he still hadn’t noticed you. The cough was a deep one, and nearly gurgled as he continued. A scent hit the air however, and the mystery illness was made clear.

Blood.

Humans were being plagued with a disease called “consumption” or “tuberculosis”, and attacked the lungs. By now there were small medical advancements for the disease, but for a man as old as Collin…there was little hope.

He opened his eyes as he wiped his mouth, his eyes were cloudy now, but you could tell he could see you regardless.

“Are you a ghost?”

You tilted your head, “Not quite.”

“Pet…?” Your mouth flinched at the name.

“Collin.”

“Why…why are you here?” His voice rattled and wheezed.

“Word on the street is that you don’t have much time left.”

He stared at you in a way that made you feel he was looking through you.

“Are you Death then, coming to collect me?”

“No…not that either.”

He reached his bony hand towards yours, and you allowed him to take it. It felt like him but it also didn’t feel like him at the same time. His skin was colder, the pads of his fingers felt different due to age. Humans aged so strangely.

“Is your family here?”

He shook his head, “no…most of them are at the country house or at their own residences.”

Your brow furrowed slightly, “is anyone here to look after you?”

“My staff have been at my side this entire time.”

You suspected his children were waiting out for their inheritances, if they were anything like their father.

“Eleanor?”

Collin’s eyes softened and he looked down, “Eleanor passed ten years ago.”

“Collin Irving, dying all alone,” you failed to hide the amusement in your voice.

As if on cue, he started coughing again, this one was a lot louder than the last.

“I could take it away, you know. Just a few drops would clear your body out in minutes,” you offered as your fingers smoothed down your dress.

“Eh…I don’t need that, Pet. I’m ready to go. I’ve lived a full life.”

“I’m sure you have,” you tried and failed to show that the last sentence didn’t sting.

“I thought about you, every day since that night,” he confessed.

Good, you thought, the confirmation that your Persuasion still held up all these years later warmed you inside.

Playing along, you said, “you did?”

He nodded, “oh yes. I felt like every time I’d turn a corner you’d be there as you used to be. I missed having you with me all the time. Even planted the Jasmine outside so that I could smell you whenever I’d open a window. I didn’t realize how much of a loss it was until it was too late. I always meant to reach out to you but I never got around to it. I’d want to write to you but it would slip my mind so easily.”

“I wouldn’t have read them anyway,” you shrugged.

“Just as well,” the hand that was holding yours squeezed your hand, “your skin is as soft as ever…”

“Is it, now?”

“Never felt anything like you again, you know. I tried, no other woman could compare.”

You winced at that “compliment.”

“So much for being a family man,” you said coldly, taking your hand back and settling it in your lap.

“Why are you really here, Pet?”

Fine, you would be blunt, “I wanted to watch you suffer.”

He held his hands up, “as you said, I’m dying alone, shriveled and broken. Is that what you wanted?”

No. What you had wanted was to fight for you sixty years ago, to not throw away what you had, but that didn’t happen. You sighed, knowing you had overstayed your welcome.

Abruptly you stood, smoothing down your dress one more time, “this is my last goodbye, Collin.”

He began to protest, “no not yet, you only just arrived. Stay with me, please.”

You shook your head, and leaned down to whisper in his ear, “like I said, until the day you die, Collin Irving, I will haunt you.”

Before he could respond he started coughing again, his body shaking from the movement, and you took that as an opportunity to swiftly exit the room, never to see him again. The distant sound of his labored breathing and wet coughs being the last memory you had of Collin Irving.

“He was dead a week later, according to the obituary,” you took a shaky breath, emotionally exhausted. Your Vampire was still with you, listening to every word and trying his best not to interrupt. He wanted to ask if you knew where Collin was buried, for reasons, but he kept it to himself and made another mental note to google it later.

Josh could tell you were beat, and without hesitating he reached over to pull you into his lap, allowing you to rest your head in the crook of his neck. Your eyes fluttered shut as soon as you were surrounded by his warmth.

“One less asshole in the world, then,” he said softly.

“Yeah…,” you agreed.

“The sun is up now, why don’t we rest and sleep the day away?”

You opened one eye and glanced at the clock. It was nearly 8:00 AM.

“Sounds great, Boy Scout,” you tilted your head to give him a soft kiss on the hinge of his jaw.

The two of you got settled under the duvet, legs tangled and facing each other. Josh brought one of your hands to his lips and kissed your knuckles before lacing his fingers with yours and settling them between you.

“I know that was hard for you, but thank you for telling me,” he made one more mental note to not bring up Collin even if he saw more memories of him in the future. The less said about him the better.

“Does this count as us having the ‘exes’ talk? Another milestone down,” you yawned.

Josh loved the sound of that.

“I’ll never hurt you like that, or at all, ever,” he promised.

Your eyelids were heavy but you forced them open to look into his doe eyes and teased, “silver handcuffs aside?”

“Hey!” his nose crinkled in defense but he joined in with your laugh. You were too far away, he felt and he pulled you even closer to him, your chests nearly flush against each other. He planted a kiss on the crown of your head, sleep quickly coming for him too.

You hated being overly sentimental, but the fact that Josh literally gave his life to save yours floated through your head. As well as the realization that he always put you first, which you still weren’t fully used to yet, but you were getting there. And just before you fully gave into sleep, you made another realization that you never gave Collin a nickname like you did Josh. He was always just Collin. Nothing more, nothing less. In fact you couldn’t even think of something you would have called him, hypothetically.

But you were happy about that, because there was only one Boy Scout for you.

To be continued…

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#josh kiszka #josh kiszka x reader #I see hell in your eyes #greta van fleet #josh gvf #enemies to lovers #slow burn #my writing #my fics #vampire fics #🩸🖤

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fancifulplaguerat · 4 months

Text

Once again thinking about the overlap between justice/truth in Clara and Daniil’s characters. These are obviously Daniil’s guiding principles, but they are almost equally embedded into Clara’s character, though it’s when Clara is acting as the disease and envoy of the Law that she most adheres to justice and truth. I notice that overlap between justice even exists in their respective patron families.

For one, both the Saburovs and Kains are associated with justice and law despite being in direct opposition. According to Alexander’s character concept, the Saburovs support “‘the Plague’s faction’” and are fittingly aligned with the capital-L Law that opposes the miraculous and considers it blasphemy; this may be thematically emphasized in that Saburov is given emergency gubernatorial powers during the outbreak. The Kains are conversely and obviously aligned with the miraculous, but again, also associated with justice and law-making; ex. Georgiy being “The Judge.” Maria claims that Townspeople go to Georgiy to settle disputes rather than Saburov because:

“His verdicts are fair. Common folk believe that the Kains possess a third eye. They say it’s a raven’s eye, spinning in the brain, leaving us restless and capable of peeking into the forbidden. […] The eye can see the covert, and people are prepared to endure its wrath to be granted the boons of high justice that its everlasting suffering reveals.”

Yulia also describes the Kains thus:

“One could even say, they are the architects of the law by which we are to live. Conceivably, they should do their utmost to define and implement the boundaries which we should never transcend—after all, this is the core function of any lawmaking entity. But then, do you know what is especially fascinating about the Kains? The boundaries are nowhere to be seen.”

The Kains are perhaps presented here, then, as those who instate their own law or justice over the capitalized ones the narrative presents; in overcoming the Law they construct their own, though ones that are chaotic or unfettered.

A final detail, too—Georgiy tells Clara: “Every time you show up at The Crucible, be prepared to suffer! These walls will burn the very thing within you that allows you to do your wicked work. Call it magic, if you will, or call it supreme justice.” Though, it’s somewhat unclear to me in English and Russian whether the so-called ‘magic’ or ‘supreme justice’ references Clara’s power or the Crucible’s—either it’s ambiguous on purpose or I’m being stupid. Either way, I’m inclined to put it against Clara saying “I’m afraid of visiting [the Kains]. I can sense how dangerous they are to me! Their very name, it seems, is something the whole of my nature protests against…” That Clara, as an embodiment of the Law/Plague, cannot bear the Crucible because it’s where the Kains cook up their various little lawbreaking miracle stews. So to me, the Kains sharing the Saburovs’ attributes is not necessarily a contradiction, but with Daniil… I mean. What is going on there.

Daniil’s principles are basically the Law’s tenets, minus resignation to inevitability. In the theatre opening, his infamous “The truth is my shepherd. Whatever happens, I will find answers, and justice will be restored” or “there’s only one truth” sound more like they belong in the mouth of Saburov or Clara Sand Plague with their lines like “Let truth prevail,” “The truth will speak for itself,” or “I only want one thing, and that is—justice!” Perhaps it’s notable, too, that Saburov and Daniil get along fairly well ((some of the time)) despite their opposing philosophies. Likewise, on the flipside, the Kains just love to be diabolical liars at every chance they get, and multiple characters claim that Kains are affectatious: “They always try to be intimidating, they like to dramatize everything, they enjoy striking up a pose!” and “[Maria] puts on airs, but that’s just how the Kains are.” So in terms of Daniil’s ideal of honesty, he seems closer aligned to the Law than his own Bound. I am pacing my study. What is going on with you Daniil D Dankovsky

#business as usual tbh.#save me kain raven eye..........kain raven eye save me........#pathologic #clara <3 #daniil dankovsky #patho.txt

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vanillabeanmachine · 3 months

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Hi there.

Reaching out to let you know that I'm very, very much looking forward to reading 'No Letting Go'.

If I'm not mistaken I found your blog / this particular writing project when I came across another fan's post highlighting Daniel's book (A Shadow on the Skin) on Kaposi's sarcoma and the beginnings of the AIDS epidemic. Since then, I've been searching for meta - and specially fic - that explores Daniel's experience with the AIDS crisis, given that he not only reported on it but engaged in some high risk behavior (having sex with men for drugs, for one) during that time.

So I'd appreciate anything that you may wanna share regarding this specific plotline, if something of the sort is indeed to be featured in "No Letting Go".

Hiya @gardinha! 🤗 Thank you so much for reaching out with such a fantastic question! Honestly, there's so much I want to share that it was quite challenging for me to write this response!

At its core, “No Letting Go” is about intergenerational trauma in various forms, and I think it’s fair for me to say that no event has marred the collective queer psyche quite like the HIV/AIDS Crisis—and I think that, even in today’s era of PrEP, there remain aspects of that crisis that the queer community has yet to fully reconcile or "let go" of. To me, Daniel Molloy is a character who could embody much of this trauma, and could allow me to explore some of the impacts of the Crisis on individual and collective memory.

But where to begin?

AMC's "Interview With the Vampire" begins by positioning Daniel Molloy within the context of the COVID-19 pandemic.

And so I began with Larry Kramer.

Larry Kramer—who passed away in early 2020 from pneumonia while under lockdown and working on a new play titled "An Army of Lovers Must Not Die," which reportedly was intended to be about "gay people having to live through three plagues" (the third being aging)—was an AIDS activist. As a co-founder of the Gay Men's Health Crisis (the largest provider of resources to AIDS patients US-wide) and the grassroots activist group AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power (ACT UP), Kramer's impact on both the community and public health advocacy was profound.

During the recent COVID-19 pandemic, Kramer notably re-entered the public conversation, his name being often brought up in conjunction with Dr. Anthony Fauci. Fauci, who first became the director of the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases in 1984 during the initial surge of the AIDS crisis—who has been a key figure in managing both the HIV/AIDS and COVID-19 health emergencies.

During the initial outbreak of the COVID-19 pandemic, I experienced an interesting discourse emerge in the queer leftist communities that I am a part of.

On one hand, there was a tangible, unified commitment across the community to prevent the spread of COVID-19. This collective resolve was directly fuelled by a desire to avoid the devastating losses similar to those experienced during the AIDS crisis. The phrase "remember AIDS?" frequently echoed within the community, serving as both a cautionary reminder and a rallying cry to ensure history did not repeat itself. This sentiment strengthened the communal effort to protect each other and highlighted a profound awareness of shared historical trauma.

But simultaneously, there was also a notable scepticism towards government health organizations like the CDC, a sentiment deeply rooted in the community's experiences during the AIDS crisis, when the government's response was notoriously inadequate. This distrust was further complicated by the fact that Dr. Anthony Fauci, a central figure during both the AIDS crisis and the COVID-19 pandemic, headed these responses. The prevailing sentiments of "do not trust the CDC" and "don’t trust Fauci" resonated strongly within the community. (Ironically, these were the same slogans being adopted by anti-mask right-wing groups during the pandemic, highlighting a complex layer of shared mistrust that originated from very different motivations and historical contexts.)

This dichotomy, to me, really exemplified the ongoing impact of historical trauma on the contemporary queer community.

And so I took this back to Daniel Molloy for “No Letting Go.”

Starting in Act II—(Act I is set in a different historical moment that also cannot be “let go” of)—Daniel and Armand are deeply entrenched in the cultural and political fabric of the queer community during the early stages of the AIDS crisis, from 1981 to 1985. This period is captured through a mix of "more objective" flashbacks (though true objectivity is intentionally subverted, aligning with the narrative style of "Interview With the Vampire”) and the personal reflections of Daniel and Armand. The era, characterized by ambiguity and a nascent understanding of AIDS, offers a backdrop not just for exploring fear but more significantly, the political dynamics of the time.

My focus on the AIDS Crisis in “No Letting Go” is on how the community organized, responded, and survived rather than on the pervasive fear, using Daniel (who, perhaps, did not survive—according to the book canon) as a means of exploring this.

In "No Letting Go," Daniel Molloy in 1981-1985 is a still-human journalist living with Armand in their New York City apartment. Unlike a vampire, Daniel is deeply embedded in the community and its internal politics, which naturally sets the stage for tension between him and Armand, given their differing existential perspectives and capabilities. (But we won’t get into that for right now…)

The backdrop to Daniel's life during this period includes the 1978 publication of Larry Kramer's novel "Faggots," which Daniel sees as profoundly damaging to the community—and a personal attack on both Armand and himself. Kramer wrote "Faggots" to critique what he perceived as self-destructive and hedonistic behaviours prevalent within certain segments of the gay community—precisely the segments that Daniel is a part of. Kramer’s vocal support for monogamy and his stance against group sex, cruising, anonymous encounters, bathhouses, glory holes, BDSM, and the usage of both street and prescription drugs directly conflict with the lifestyle and freedoms cherished by Daniel and Armand.

So, in “No Letting Go,” I wanted to set Daniel in relation to the AIDS Crisis based on his stance within the broader discourse of queer liberation and the politics of barebacking. Daniel's animosity towards Kramer not only stems from their opposing views on sexual freedom but extends to Daniel rejecting the safer sex practices Kramer advocated—such as limiting partners, abstinence, or condom use (things which would prove to be keys to survival during the AIDS Crisis). Daniel's perspective on AIDS is framed by his perception of Kramer as an adversary to his personal freedom.

Why should Daniel heed warnings from someone who opposes so much of what defines his community and personal identity?

To end with a content warning (just one of the many things in “No Letting Go” that earns it its place on @devils-minion-cult ‘s Devil's Minion Freak4Freak Porn AO3 list) please be aware that "No Letting Go" includes scenes set during the AIDS Crisis, depicted from Daniel’s perspective with an implicit element of bugchasing: the eroticisation of HIV. For Daniel, this is a natural progression of his established inclination to find sexual thrill in life-threatening scenarios. His tendency to eroticise elements that possess the potential to be lethal translates into a profound sexual stimulation derived from engaging in high-risk sex. And engaging in unprotected sex with a partner who could potentially be HIV positive represents the ultimate risk.

#interview with the vampire #iwtv #daniel molloy #devil's minion #armand/daniel #armandaniel #No Letting Go #ok to reblog #meta

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uweinei-02 · 3 months

Text

slipping by like sand (ONE-SHOT) ft. tsukishima kei

SYNOPSIS: his core belief is that everything is temporary, so when you change and reshape it, he could only end up getting attached. GENRE: angst, but not too angsty (you die) AUTHORS NOTE: i wanted to explore the idea of everything being temporary as a characters belief and immediately thought of kei.. i hurt my faves LOL also, i stole the first two-ish paragraphs off of a fic i wrote in like 2022 when i used to be into encanto. for so many reasons i'm not going to drop it (i'm embarrassed, which is the only reason).

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

crystalline silica, a common material that is found within the earth's crust, consisting of sand, dirt, concrete, and mortar. however, these in turn are also aspects of crystalline silica. all of which are ever so common, yet so small, small enough to pass through the never ending twists and turns of life and time. crystalline silica is able to withstand the erosion of natures course, however is somehow completely vulnerable to certain chemicals, ensuring its destruction. despite it being common, crystalline silica is known to be a hazard to everyone's health, being a cause of certain diseases and health issues when highly exposed to.

sometimes, tsukishima believes that he too is like sand. he flows through the fissures of time, akin to sand underneath the sea, flowing with the waves of the tide. he finds himself drowning and flowing through water, resting on the shore, sticking to people, falling, being temporary in different places and times. he learned to accept that everything was just temporary, that there would be an end to everything. so when it came to you, he wondered how you managed to change his entire perspective on life, and make it all come back within the span of 4 years.

his first and last visions of you were both polar opposites, in turn, you were also his foil, the opposite of him, someone that had the ability to challenge his beliefs. to challenge his very core values. even up until death, you still shook his very core beliefs.

when he first met you, you were both paired up on a project for japanese literature, studying the works of poets and deciphering the hidden meanings between each phrase. to you, everything and anything held meaning, while to him, only things that seemed to hold meaning held meaning. after all, he never naturally desired to try harder.

his second moment of you was when you had decided to go to the beach with some of your friends, coincidentally, tsukishima and yamaguchi were also there minding their own business. he had his headphones on, bobbing his head to the music while yamaguchi was simply sitting on the sand, admiring the view. you however, approached him greeting both him and yamaguchi with a smile. he tuned into his music, giving you a nod of acknowledgement as you begin to chat with yamaguchi. next thing he knew, he saw you running towards the water, waving to him with a smile, catching up to your friends. perhaps he wanted to take a photo of you, smiling to him as you looked back at him.

when he was with you, each moment felt fleeting. every moment that he had with you was temporary, so he wondered why you came back each time. why you came back to haunt him, over, and over, and over again. each moment with you made him question his core belief of everything being temporary. if everything was temporary, why did you keep coming back to him?

at some point, he watched over his shoulder, making sure you were still there with him and yamaguchi. he wold begin to look for you when you weren't there. he would check to make sure you were doing alright and would also make sure that you were doing your best. of course, he didn't know that he subconsciously let you into his life, and he knew damn well how you were temporary, how everyone was temporary.

after four years of becoming close friends, all three of you would constantly spend time with one another, making sure you all allocated time for one another even if there were club activities. all three of you expected to spend the rest of your lives with one another, never growing distant and always being friends even if one of you ended up living across the globe.

during those four years, tsukishima learned to accept the truth, that not everything is temporary. he learned to accept others because you alternated his beliefs and values. you managed to catch the sand holding him and placing him into a new environment. watching him change and become someone new, he embraced the change you provided for him.

he remembered watching you run towards the road, in a sense he felt that it was cliche, this was how everything ended. in each romance book one of them always died by being his by a car, he watched it hit you, your body flying and stopping in the middle of the intersection. he barely processed it, and only finally did when he heard the thud of your body hit the ground and the blood seeping out.

he remembered calling an ambulance, he remembered holding your hand telling, no, begging you to stay with him, begging you to wake up. he remembered being surrounded by people, so many people who came out of their cars to check on you, passerby's who were confused by the commotion. he remembered getting into the ambulance with you, he remembered all the machines that suddenly became part of you, machines that you had to rely on.

he vividly remembered watching you smile looking back at him as you ran to the sea at the beach, and he felt sick. he could only reach for your hand, asking you not to go, to wait, that you both still had your future with yamaguchi, that you still had the plans you three planned to fulfil with one another.

he remembered watching you get reeled into the emergency room, he remembered being forced to wait for you in the waiting room. he remembered holding his hands to his face in absolute anguish, begging some unknown god to keep you alive. he also remembered watching your parents barge in, tears streaming down their face.

oddly enough, he knew his prayers couldn't have been answered and he hated that. he knew you died upon entering the hospital, he knew when he felt your hand slip off of his, when your chest stopped slightly rising.

and for the first time in four years, he remembered that everything was temporary.

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wazzappp · 10 months

Text

Ok @moosemonstrous here we fuckin go.

OK SO. I apologize if it comes off more Evangellion than Pacific Rim but I thought that making The Charger more slender would help to differentiate it and allow for a focus on agility (also helps it to look more skeletal and unsettling).

The Charger is built in layers. An outer layer that constitutes the armor, a thinner covering, metal scaffolding, secondary thin covering, and then finally the essential wiring that makes the 'nervous system' of the Jaeger. Most of the damage (corruption scars, nicks, paint chipping) is just cosmetic, and the structural nature of the Jaeger is intact.

HOWEVER. The same can not be said of the reactor core. At some point (maybe during Eli's death?) corruption made its way behind the main fans of the outer engine and into the main reactor that powers the Jaeger. In theory this should lead to a catastrophic failure, but in this instance Im thinking there was a chemical reaction that essentially stabilized the corrosive nature of the Corruption (were gonna circle back to that).

For the most part my version of Robbies suit is fairly standard. I added an orange tint to his helmet screen for flavor because hey. Why not.

The spine of the suit is probably newly integrated to allow for an updated interface, I imagine theres at least a little development in the technology between the time Eli dies and Robbie comes into play. That would make the suit a weird mishmash of past and new technology which could be VERY fun.

Also I LOVED the white accents @cicada-candy added for their design but I didn't want to steal ideas so I just added it in my own places. Your art fucks severely bro I just wanted to make sure and let you know that <3

TIME FOR MY FAVORITE PART: SPECULATION ABOUT THE CORRUPTION AND ITS THEORETICAL GENETIC EFFECTS IN DOSES ON A SUBJECT!!!!!! (AKA self indulgence part 2 electric boogaloo)

I believe you mentioned the Corruption being a Neurotoxin which would be Very fun and VERY cool but I also have a suggestion. Mainly because you also referenced an increase in Robbies strength, as well as another person who got fuckin deaded shortly after.

A rapid growth in muscle density to allow for this strength would be very interesting, but why would the Corruption cause that? Simple answer; it isn't. At least not intentionally. Whats actually happening is a kind of nerve damage that changes the brains regulation of muscular exertion. Our brains really only let us use a certain percentage of our real strength, because if we just let loose and used it all we would cause significant physical damage to ourselves. Like. ripping your own tendons free from their anchors. you could break your own bones. you would die SO fast bro.

Now it is POSSIBLE to access this strength in situations of extreme stress and thats how you get people lifting cars off of loved ones, but this does still cause damage. It also gets more complicated when you consider Fast Twitch muscle reactions but for the sake of simplicity: You Would Die.

So a release of cortisol and other stress hormones, combined with a lessened ability to control strength. This means they would be USING that strength A LOT against ANYONE AND EVERYONE. But maintaining this sort of metabolism is not reasonable. Someone suffering from Corruption would likely also suffer from Hypoglycemia fatally. So extremely strong, extremely scared, and extremely short lived is the kind of deal we would be talking about here.

SO. Having said ALL OF THAT. WHAT IS ROBBIES DEAL. Well heres my proposal: The Corruption is a virus that causes neurodegenerative disease.

If Robbie was exposed to very small amounts of it as a child, it's possible it was inactive or defective, which would have allowed for an immunization point. Its also highly possible that this is a virus that can not survive (well i say survive very lightly. theres significant debate as to wether viruses are actually alive at all but I digress) outside its usual area AKA Inside a demon. He could have been exposed through contaminated water, direct contact, maybe even breathing burned version through the air. Either way, he came into contact with a weakened version of the virus and it helps him later on.

As he comes into DIRECT contact with Corruption via plugging into The Charger this is when we would start to see some more interesting effects. This Corruption would still be different though because of the aforementioned stabilizing chemical reaction in the reactor. Also, because I think Eli's DNA would be integrated into it. This provides Robbie with genetic compatibility for the virus to jump off of. Remember, viruses don't want to kill a host, they just want to reproduce as much as possible (which does end up killing a host but still). And a fun fact about viruses is that we never actually get rid of them, we just get rid of the symptoms. Once you have it its in you forever.

SO. 1. Immune response from Robbies body begins to cause the nervous damage that would allow for his rapid increase in strength. 2.Immune system recognizes the genetic material is familiar (Eli doing something good even inadvertently I guess). 3. Immune system neutralizes the virus and incorporates it into Robbies genetic coding. All good right? Happy ending? WRONG.

BECAUSE WHEN THERE ARE COPYING ERRORS IN YOUR DNA (SOMETIMES FROM VIRUSES) WHAT DO WE CALL IT?? DING DING DING 10 POINTS TO THE MUTUAL THAT SAID ✨MUTATION✨

This virus still carries genetic material from demons, this would also be getting integrated into Robbies DNA. Places like his spine which would have the most regular contact with the Corruption would probably take the brunt of these changes. It's possible that the nerve damage never truly goes away and he continuously tears and then rebuilds those muscles, resulting in overall increased strength thats technically?? stabilized?? Also I could totally see his body going 'oh shit were finally growing with decent access to fuel? BET' and just. Reactivates the growth plates in his bones ('Look! I've fixed his runt of the litter insecurity!' 'YOU FUCKED UP A PERFECTLY GOOD PILOT IS WHAT YOU DID. LOOK AT HIM. HES GOT ANXIETY ABOUT THE STATE OF HIS HUMANITY').

Oh yeah its also worth noting that this would be like. Pretty painful. We're talking constant soreness, cramps, deep aches that just won't go away. General suffering <3

Of course tapetum lucidum OF COURSE TEEF obviously as if I could go without it. You can get funky with mutations because hey. fucky wucky demon genome integration whoop whoop. Also could be interesting to see damaged areas on the Charger manifest on Robbie as damaged tissue. His skin says 'AH. Damage' and copies itself as scar tissue instead of the usual.

Oh god Ive been writing for a solid hour and a half I was supposed to be asleep a while ago ok. Moose I love this au and its making me unwell thank you for sharing with the class I hope you will consider my virus proposal for body horror purposes.

#love the idea of him just getting up one morning and going '??? Was the floor?? that far away before??'#im a sucker for it dude #also I am like. not a biologist . just enthusiastic about biology without the education. so take everything here with a grain of salt lmfao #i gotta go to sleep now. how am I gonna do that. much excitement. i make responsible choices like an adult.#ughhhh #robbie reyes #ghost rider #im prolly gonna look at this in the morning and edit the hell out of it because in my joyus haze of bullshit I didnt connect paragraphs #but fuck it we ball #pacific rim ghost rider au #my art #digital art #sketch #oh its also worth noting that the ✨mutations✨ im talking about generally result in like. cancer. very cancer #eli morrow #<- naughty. goes at the bottom of the list

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venjras · 2 years

Text

GOOD LUCK WITH THAT - GOJO.

˗ˏˋ Nsfw, tw: F!Reader, fingering, oral ( F!Receiving ), possessiveness, hair pulling, unprotected sex.

The tension between you two could have been cut with a knife.

Every time he enters a room you feel an unmistakable knot in your stomach, your heart pounding inside your ribcage and the difficulty in doing even the easiest moves. You hate the effect he has on you, it makes you feel completely powerless.

Plus, you know you shouldn't feel this way, especially when we talk about your brother's best friend. You try to avoid him as if he were some sort of disease because in his presence you find it hard even to breathe.

It's like everything about you is burning, like he burns you to the bone demanding for more.

That night was making no difference, Itadori organized a party and you decided to stay locked in your room, opting for a movie night instead.

You end up falling asleep halfway, until you hear the door click. You frown, still half asleep, thinking you've imagined it given the mess they are making downstairs.

« Y/N, are you awake? »

His voice makes your heart skip a beat, bringing you back to reality and making you squint.

« What do you want, Satoru? »

You say in a sleepy tone, sitting up to face his direction and instantly regretting it. He’s wearing a black shirt and some jeans that left very little to the imagination.

The sight makes you swallow, squeezing your thighs because of that familiar sensation.

« I didn't see you at the party and thought I'd stop by and check if everything was okay. »

He murmurs without taking his eyes off your figure, not even for a second, letting his gaze run well beyond those blankets that wrapped you around. Making your mouth go completely dry.

« Oh, how sweet. Now that you've seen me you can go back downstairs. »

Your voice come out less firm than you wanted and he don’t seem to be interested in leaving, on the contrary, he's getting closer and closer until his knees touch the edge of the mattress. Piercing you with his eyes.

« Do you really think I haven't noticed how you look at me? » He asks with a smirk painting his lips, running his tongue on the lower one.

« I don't know what are you talking about. How much have you drunk? » This statement of yours only increases his satisfied expression. Putting one knee on the soft bed, starting to crawl in your direction.

« So you don't know anything even when you devour me with your eyes only? Even when you squeeze your thighs at my simple sight? »

Those words take you by surprise and he gets close to the point where you flinch, until you touch the cold mattress with your back. He is now on top of you and his body is touching yours, his face a few millimeters and his lips dangerously close, so close that you feel his heavy breathing against your cheeks.

« Or do you wanna talk about when you touch yourself thinking about me? Calling my name so desperately that only God's knows what take me to not come and fuck you right away. And trust me I'd never leave you unsatisfied. »

Your face starts burning and your core aching for some type of friction, cursing yourself because you shouldn't find his words arousing. Watching as his gaze travels up and down your legs, smirking at the reaction he got. Bringing a hand to caress one of your cheeks, brushing your bottom lip with his thumb.

Fuck.

« What's up? Has the cat eaten your tongue? Maybe I should help you find it. »

He whispered dangerously close before you could rise up on your elbows and press a kiss against Gojo’s lips. It's meant to be a small one but he doesn't let you go. One of his hands wraps around your ponytail and tugs while the other grips onto your hips as he deepens the kiss. And then you moan, giving him better access to your mouth. Tongues clash together and blood pounds from your heart to your ears. Gojo’s lips don't break away from yours as he pushes the covers off your body and push his body between your legs.

He kisses you like he wants to brand you with his tongue. One of his hands slides down your body while his lips find yours again and again, kissing you until you are breathless. He slowly latches onto the band of you sweatpants and underwear at once, pulling away from your lips only to pull them down. Your skin covered in shiver as his clothes soon find their way to the floor as well.

« So fucking gorgeous. » He traces the sensitive flesh on the inside of your thigh, making you feel needy, extremely needy. Satoru leaves no area of skin untouched or unkissed. It’s like he wants to memorize the shape of your whole body by using his lips only.

You cup his growing erection and as soon as you do so he shudders above you. His head rolls to the side when you trace your thumb across the tip of pre-cum and use it to help your hand slide easier across his shaft.

« I see I'm not the only one affected here. » You let out a small laugh as you see me him sliding down some more until his mouth lines up with the area desperate for him. Shoving your legs apart and trailing kisses up your thighs before devouring you like a starved man. Your arousal coating his tongue while his eyes roll into the back of his head. You can feel him run the tip of his tongue in a straight line from your pussy to your clit. Leaving out a silent scream while your back bow off the bed.

Sparks light up like fireworks inside of you and your hands grab onto his thick locks. He chuckles against you, making the best vibration against your clit. And as soon as his lips find it he starts sucking while one of his fingers slides into you. Being granted no reprieve as Gojo propels another into you. He chases your orgasm with a kiss, muffling up your moans like he wants to own them. Leaving you trembling by the time you come down from the high.

Gojo’s shows no signs of calming down as you see him towering over you, finding yourself always craving for more. He kisses you again until you can’t even form a proper sentence. Until blood returns to his cock and pre-cum trickles down your stomach, leaving a path of his arousal.

« Mine. All mine. »

He slams into you so hard you can only respond with a moan as he slides out of you to do the same thing all over again.

« Say it. » He slides out to the very tip, so you feel all but empty. Making you desperate because of how much you need him right now.

« I'm yours. » You cry out and as a reward he gives you another rough thrust of his hips, even tho this time he brushes against your sensitive spot. The tingling starts at the top of your spine and reaches all the way to your toes. One of his hands grips onto your waist while the other tugs on your hair, forcing you to look him straight in the eyes.

He wasn't willing to miss a single one of your expressions.

The hand gripping your waist moves onto your clit as his thumb presses against the sensitive flesh, shoving you into the best climax you’ve ever had. Moaning loudly when you felt him come undone. Closing your eyes as you try and catch your breath.

What the hell just happened?

Part 2.

©️ venjras.

#jjk imagines #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru imagines #gojo imagine #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo saturo #gojo satoru x you #gojo x you #jujutsu kaisen smut

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salted-bird · 2 years

Text

One of the things I love about Limbus' Abnormality encounters, besides how cool the designs are, is the way the game uses them to tackle the topic of performative empathy vs actual empathy.

You can't just try to fix an Abnormality's core problems and expect it to work. And it's not because the Abnormality will attack you before you get the chance to do anything, rather, following this approach is a consistent way to hit your own party with demerits due to the simple fact that YOU ARE THE ONE HURTING THE ABNO IN THE FIRST PLACE.

Trying to remove the Umbrella Fox's umbrellas is incredibly painful for it because it involves tearing off chunks of its flesh, mimicking the Weeping Toad's cry will cause it to flee because what it actually wanted was someone who would listen, removing the brambles will make the Bride and Groom sad because it means you are destroying their home, giving water to a blazing metal bull obviously isn't going to help, etc.

Your intentions can be good, but as the Umbrella Fox itself puts it, solutions without "forethought" have the potential to be incredibly harmful.

Which brings me to the similarities this has with IRL ableism, and how often body-abled people will tell you to do X thing under the claim that it will help you feel better (or even cure you) without considering the implications of their own suggestions for a single second. Some wonderful examples of this are telling someone with a respiratory disease or injury to just "take a deep breath", telling a person with chronic fatigue to "go jogging, it will give you more energy" or recommending to an autistic individual that they "learn common sense".

I'm sure you can imagine yourself (or know from first-hand experience, sadly) the rest of horrible 'magical solutions' disabled people have to hear on a regular basis, so back to the point, this type of acts share the same kind of impulsive and patronizing empathy as the "help(?) this Abnormality" choices in Limbus Company.

Not only do they not help anyone at all, in reality they are an active detriment to the physical and emotional wellbeing of the target you are supposedly trying to help with the action. In the end, the only benefit obtained is that you get to say you TRIED to help someone, hence the performative part of this behaviour, it makes you look good to others and to yourself by awarding you some imaginary reputation points that mean nothing.

Now it's very possible that you are thinking (or not) something about the lines of: "But hey, I unplugged the electric sheep being sacrificed to fuel a city, and I also sprinkled water on the tree suffering from a drought, I did have success helping a handful of the Abnos!".

This may appear to contradict my logic as described above, but I want you to consider a key difference between the Abnormalities the game does let you help and those for whom trying to do so is an insult. The former group suffers from external circumstances that can be changed through concrete actions, the latter faces permanent issues because of the very way they are.

So on the first camp;

-The Electric Sheep doesn't suffer because it's electric, it's suffers due to being exploited for energy.

-The Desert Twiggy Ghost Tree doesn't suffer because it's allergic to water, it suffers because it doesn't have access to any water.

-Similarly, the Electric Centipede only suffers because people are experimenting on it and you choose how to torture it.

You can liken them to disabled people with low-support needs, whose difficulties would in theory go away once you implement a social model of disability because the problems they face are, as the name implies, mainly social.

Now, contrast this with how for example, removing the brambles from the Rose Thorns Cross involves destroying its very body, and you should notice the theme Limbus is trying to convey through these encounters; Nobody is the same.

Sure, jumping the gun may work sometimes, if the problem is small enough to be dealt with through individual action, but more often than not the reality of what the other person is going through is so different from yours that an attempt to force your own experiences and judgement on them is only going to result in pain, and what's worse, pain for both parties if you genuinely were trying to help.

Which is not to say there's no point in desiring to offer help, my favourite part about how Limbus handles its event choices is that it teaches you a lesson about the value of simple understanding.

Tearing off its umbrellas won't help the fox, but going past its threatening appearance to show that you care by petting it will, the same goes for the gloomy frog that is so grateful to you for listening to its woes that it leaves one of its eyes behind as a gift. You don't need to change the Abnormalities' nature as Abnormalities to make them happy, being there for them and accepting them as they are is more than enough.

I could write more about the parallels between Abnormalities as a group of "non-humans" that go against the general idea of normal while existing solely to be exploited for resources and the way IRL disabled people are exploited by doctors and pharmaceutical companies for easy money while society at large doesn't care, but in the end the message is simple, imagine a world where instead of treating them like children or even complaining about them, abled people showed those with disabilities this type of empathy, the real type.

#limbus company #disability in fiction #ableism #disability #project moon

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haodore · 2 years

Text

dads suck ; jm

𓂃 ⋆ 𓈒 masterlist

⌁ jj maybank x reader

⌁ hiding bruises and keeping secrets is something jj knows all too well, and he wants nothing but to bring you comfort. // angst, hurt/comfort, platonic.

⌁ 2.1k words

! : gender neutral r (they/them), overly strict parent, abuse, bruises, sad jj, jj and r #bonding el oh el, swearing, not set in any specific season/time, not really edited.

✐ in anticipation for outer banks 3, i did this really quick (it’s also my very first obx fic!!). the downside: i don’t remember a lot of the small details of this show and i’m not currently able to watch it yet, so if anything seems off, that’s probably why. also, hopefully i got jj’s characterization right??

Walking into your own home wasn't supposed to strike fear into your heart like a spreading disease, nor was it supposed to make your hands shake beyond your control, eyes darting around fearfully. It was supposed to be your safe place—your sanctuary.

The place where you were supposed to feel loved and cared for, brought you heartbreak and hurt. Any wrong move could lead to being hit or yelled at, and you hated it.

You didn't tell anyone about it, however. Instead using your smiles and laughter as a shield to keep everyone from being suspicious, fearing that maybe your Dad wasn't lying when he said if anyone hears about this, I'll make you regret it. Understand that?

You felt that same fear as you entered your house, stepping into the foyer. You had just gotten back from school, and the day had been rather uneventful as usual until something went wrong. You were a few minutes late to your third period class because your second period teacher asked you to help carry some textbooks to another classroom. It took longer than expected, however.

In the end, you weren’t even that late, you you shouldn’t have been surprised when your Dad was called about your brief absence to the class.

You wish you could say that it wouldn’t of been that big a deal, but you already know that your night was about to get a whole lot worse than the usual.

You froze in your steps, hearing your name being called from the kitchen. You couldn’t keep him waiting too long though, so your dragged yourself to the kitchen, eyes directed to the floor.

“Hi, Dad.”

Your Dad was doing the dishes, which was something that shocked you to your core. You felt rooted in place, watching as he placed a clean dinner plate onto the drying rack. It was such a simple, ordinary thing to most, but he always insisted that this was your job, along with many other chores. He’d pick out every little thing about it that you were doing wrong—even if you were doing nothing wrong at all—and he’d make you pay for it.

“Hi, sweetheart.” The nickname sent shivers down your spine. This doesn’t feel right. “How was school?”

You stayed standing where you were, shifting in place only slightly. “It was good.” You nodded. Your hands were behind your back, and you gripped them together tightly, praying that they would stop shaking.

“Really?”

You felt the pressure of the situation press down on your shoulders, threatening and hoping for your bones to crack under the intensity of it all. You nodded at him, with a light hum, not wanting your voice to waver if you spoke.

“Nothing too interesting happen today?”

You faintly shook your head.

“Well, maybe tomorrow might be more eventful, hmm?” He smiled, but it almost felt sinister. You knew it meant nothing good.

Your Dad continued to do the dishes, confusion slowly creeping up your spine. You didn’t understand.

When he reached over to put a clean cup on the rack, his hand was noticeably too far from the rack, but he let the glass fall from his fingertips anyway. You jumped slightly as the glass hit the ground, the clear shimmering glass shattering into pieces as it hit the ground. Your Dad tsked, sighing as he observed the mess he’d made with an unsettling glint in his eyes.

“Well,” he said, “looks like you’re gonna have to clean this up.”

You didn’t realize you’d frozen in place until he repeated himself louder. Like instinct, you started picking up the pieces of glass. He’d started telling you how this was all you fault that the cup broke, even though you both knew it couldn’t possibly be your fault.

“This is what you get for that call I got earlier today.”

You faltered for a moment, but kept picking up the glass.

“Are you ignoring me now?!”

You immediately shook your head, but he was having none of it. He grabbed your wrist, pulling you up to your feet. Your heart was in your throat as he pushed you against the counter with an angry glint in his eyes.

"After everything I've done for you, and you can't even manage to get to class on time?! You'll ruin my reputation!" He yelled at you. He raised a hand, slapping you across the face. "Ungrateful.” He seethed. He raised a hand to hit you again, and you tried to get away, but he was too strong, holding you in place. He hit you again. "Worthless." He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you up and throwing you onto the glass covered ground. You cried lout as you hit the floor, feeling a small piece of glass pierce your cheek where your head hit the ground.

This wasn't how it usually went. He was being worse than usual. Usually, he'd hit you in places it couldn't be seen, like your ribs. It was why you'd stick to one piece swim suits. He knew where he could hurt you without people noticing. You don't know why it's different this time—whether it was a bad day at work or lack of sleep—but he didn't seem to care about where he hurt you or who would see.

He looked down on you, clearly liking how much power he had over you. He then huffed, giving you a harsh kick to the ribs. You felt the air escape from your lungs as you wheezed out at the pain, and he walked off with a scoff.

You don’t know how long you stayed there on the floor, surrounded by a halo of broken glass, your ribs and face slowly turning red and purple from the hits. You stayed long enough that the house had gone completely silent—your Dad had left.

So, you shakily pushed yourself up, gripping onto the counter for balance. It took you what felt like an unbearable amount of time to get to the front door and out the house, and you couldn’t even describe how long the walk to the château felt. With how hard your head hit the floor, you were surprised you hadn’t collapsed yet.

You dropped yourself onto the bench on the porch of the château, not having the energy to go any further.

You heard a door open, and the sound of someone lightly cursing, then your name being called. Messy blonde hair came into your view, and blue sad eyes. He said your name again.

You groaned.

“What happened? Oh, my God, you— are you— fuck.” JJ picked you up, bringing you inside. He put you on the couch gently, rushing out of the room. You almost felt bad, really. You didn’t want to put all of this pressure on him, but you didn’t know where else to go.

You weren’t as close to the pogues as everyone else in the group was, because you were a bit newer to the group. You hung out with them all the time, but you didn’t feel like you were attached at the hip quite yet.

JJ returned only a few moments later with a first aid kit. You trusted him to do a good job, because you knew he’s handled things like this before. No one really told you about JJ’s home life, but it was no secret on the island of what kind of person Luke Maybank was. They saw the state he was in, and they’d see JJ walk around with bruises, and then people’d start talking. It was easy to figure out that JJ Maybank had a hard life.

You didn’t realize he’d started tending to your wounds until you felt a sharp pain in your cheek, and JJ pulled away the piece of glass. He apologized, clearly stressed and upset, and you felt guilty again.

“What happened?” His voice caught in his throat a little when he spoke. Just because you weren’t as close with him as the rest of them were with him doesn’t mean he didn’t care. You were best friends, and the lack of having years of memories didn’t change that. You had your entire life ahead of you to make some.

You found yourself unable to speak even though you wanted to, worrying again about your Dad somehow finding out. It pained you to admit the amount of control he had over you.

But you wanted to be helped. It was a desperate, aching feeling that you carried with you in every step. Every time you spoke, the words almost fell off your tongue but then you’d falter, saying something else with a smile that you weren’t so sure was real anymore. If there was anyone to speak to, and if there was any time to do it, it was to say it to JJ right now.

“It was…” you felt like the walls were caving in on you as you had a moment where you thought he wouldn’t even believe you. There were hardly any signs of anything happening in your home before, and your Dad always looked so polite and put together.

When JJ saw your hesitance, the words dying in your mouth, he felt his worry spike. He hoped his assumption was wrong.

“My, uhm…” you held back a cry from what had happened and from the pain of JJ cleaning your wounds, “my Dad.”

The secret was finally out and into the world, and you didn’t know how to feel. You were relieved, but for some reason you couldn’t get your hands to stop shaking.

“Fuck, I—“ JJ’s heart was in his throat as he continued to clean your wounds as gently as possible. He felt like a lit candle slowly slowly dying down at your revelation. You, who was always smiling and laughing; cracking jokes with the pogues like you’d known them for years; and giving out kindness like your life depended on it… you were more like JJ than he’d initially thought.

JJ didn’t know what to say, for a moment or two. He continued to aid you, chewing on his lower lip in thought. He’d always dealt with his pain with jokes, which he wasn’t sure if it was appropriate or not. Maybe you could use a laugh right now though.

“Dad’s suck, huh?”

In your haze of tears and hurt, a small and weak laugh bubbled from your chest. “Yeah, they do.”

With some of the tension lifted off your shoulders, the next short silence that followed wasn’t so bad, more so welcomed with the knowledge that JJ believed you, and he cared about you. He didn’t outright say it, but you knew it to be true.

When he zipped up the first aid kit, placing it on the table, he then turned to you. “This uh… this been going on long?” You knew serious conversations weren’t exactly his strong suit.

You only nodded in reply.

“You can tell us anything, you know? We’re pogues, man. Whether you like it or not we’re not leaving you behind. All right?”

You nodded again, this time letting a tear slip. You put your head down, wiping it away. JJ frowned when you muttered out an apology.

“Why are you sorry?”

“For being weak.”

JJ was getting déjà vu, watching the way you cried and apologized for it. He knew the feeling of feeling weak all too well. “Crying doesn’t make you any weaker, y’know.”

Your head snapped up as you were about to protest.

“It doesn’t.” He insisted, leaning forward to show how much he meant it. “If that’s something that your dad told you, than he’s wrong. He doesn’t know shit.” JJ felt his heart cracking at the sight of more tears pooling in your waterline. “The fact that you’ve put up with this so long on your own shows how strong you are, y’know that?… you don’t have to do it on your own anymore.”

Before you knew it his arms were wrapped around you, putting you close. You cried harder at the comfort, feeling warmth blossom on your chest.

Eventually you two pulled away, and he settled for resting a hand on your shoulder.

“My head hurts.” You said, holding a hand up to your temple while blinking tiredly.

“Did you hit it off something?”

You nodded. “The floor.”

JJ suppressed his anger, instead saying, “All right, you’ll have to rest later, in case you have a concussion.” The idea of not being able to close your eyes and sleep made you internally groan, but you knew he was right.

You were grateful that JJ was the one here. Even though you’d have to face your Dad again later, right now you were content with spending the night at the château with JJ, laughing a little brighter than before.

@ sakufilms

#jj maybank #outer banks #obx #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x platonic reader #gender neautral reader #platonic #outer banks x reader #obx x reader #no romantic relationships #No romance #angst #hurt comfort #hurt/comfort #all my works

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