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f0rtunes-fool · 5 months

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hHhhhh it's "Jasper makes Milgram theories while horribly sleep-deprived" time

Alright. So. If you remember, Es makes a comment at some point (I don't remember where, probably in a VD) about how Haruka should have been 006 or 007. This means that the prisoners' order is significant in some way.

So, thus was born this theory that I kind of just thought of off the top of my head - what if the prisoners' number reflects how much control they had over the things that led them to commit the crimes they did?

Rambling starts under the cut

So, what are the prisoner's crimes? (A reflection)

Haruka - Strangling a girl to death

Yuno - Multiple Abortions

Fuuta - Starting a hate campaign against a girl that led to her committing suicide

Muu - Stabbing someone to death after mentally breaking from being bullied horribly

Shidou - Harvesting the organs of patients in order to try and save his wife

Mahiru - Causing her boyfriend to commit suicide due to her overbearing way of "loving"

Kazui - Causing his wife to commit suicide due to him keeping a secret (likely that he is a godamn homosexual) for the entirety of their marriage, which did lead to the downfall of the life they had.

Amane - Beating someone (likely her mother- "My mother should have kept her faith until the very end") to death, likely due to her victim leaving the cult or at least trying to (hence the quote.)

Mikoto (John) - Beating multiple people to death in order to protect Mikoto

Kotoko - Hunting down and killing people who were preying on the unsuspecting ("I can't stand the evil hurting the weak") in her pursuit of justice

With that out of the way... it's analysis time boys.

Haruka was clearly extremely mentally ill and was jealous of the girl we saw in weakness, which was reinforced by his mother not loving him due to his learning disability and seemingly preferring that girl over him. If Haruka had been given proper love and support throughout his childhood, I think it's fairly obvious that he would not have done the things he did. He may have had a tiny bit of control over things, but again, if he had been cared for and his mental disability had been acknowledged rather than one of the things that led to someone he held in high esteem (his mother) hating him, he would not have done what he did.

Yuno's "crime" is obviously abortions, she pretty much confirms it. And if you all have the slightest bit of knowledge on how babies are made, you'll know that the woman's egg is not the baby, the man's sperm cell is - therefore, her "crime" wasn't something that was in her control, as she obviously never chose to get pregnant or really wanted to. She chose to get the abortions, sure, but the actions that caused her to get them was of no fault of her own.

Fuuta's crime was pretty indirect itself, and he clearly didn't mean for it to happen. He only started the ball rolling that led to his victim committing suicide. So while he did have some level of control over it (Literally doxxing the victim and starting everything) he had no real say in how things spiralled.

Muu's crime wasn't really intended either, let's be honest - she was clearly on the verge of snapping as it was, and the one person that didn't immediately turn to bullying her after her whole thing was exposed turning away from her pushed her over the metaphorical edge. Though let's be honest here - she did kind of have some level of control over the things that led to her committing said murder, what with her whole "Queen Bee" thing.

Shidou’s crime was clearly influenced by his grief and all the mental fuckwittery that comes along with that (seriously, grief is no joke,) and he was not in a good headspace, convinced that he might be able to save the only remaining family he had by taking the organs of others. Yes, he did have control over his actions, but again, his mental state clearly influenced the actions he took.

Mahiru didn't even know the harm she was doing in her relationship because of just how unstable she was, and so blinded by love that she didn't even realise how toxic things were until it was far too late. Yes, she did have control over how the relationship was, but again, her mental state clearly influenced how things turned out. And nobody really has any "control" over a suicide, so.

Kazui let the lies and fear take over his life to the point where he played with someone's feelings, making her believe that he genuinely loved her the way she loved him. Hell, they even got married even though Kazui was lying through his teeth the whole time. So yeah, he had a pretty decent amount of control over the things that led to his wife committing suicide. Do I really think he intended for it to happen? Of course not - again nobody really has any "control" over a suicide. But once more, he pretty much just led his wife on for years (yes, he cared for her platonically, but not in the way she believed he did) and she genuinely did love him.

Amane did things mostly of her own accord, though it's fairly obvious that the cult had influence over her actions, her eyes after she committed her crime shows this. But what I also want to point out is that it, most likely, was her own decision to kill her mother. She saw her trying to leave the cult (assuming that theory is correct, ofc) and decided to beat her to death. She had control over what she did.

Mikoto is a difficult one, judging as his murders were done by John, and John obviously did them to protect Mikoto. But John definitely did have control over the whole, yk, murdering thing. He chose who to kill, he chose to kill them, that kind of thing.

Kotoko had, let's be honest, the most amount of control over her actions. She did them because she wanted to, not because anybody influenced her to do them. She wanted to protect people, so she killed the people who were hurting them. One of the lines in HARROW is literally "I want to gouge you out with my fangs." The key word here is Want. It was something she did because she firmly believed she was right to do so. She had complete control.

I probably drifted away from my original point more than once while writing this rambling theory, but I'm sleep-deprived and on a bus. So.

#perry the fucking platyplus godammit #drywallisedible #milgram project #milgram #milgram theory #haruka sakurai #yuno kashiki #fuuta kajiyama #muu kusunoki #shidou kirisaki #mahiru shiina #kazui mukuhara #amane momose #mikoto kayano #john milgram #kotoko yuzuriha

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haveyouseenthisskeleton · 1 year

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S/O gives birth to octuplets. How does it goes for skeletons?

Oh god, that's a lot of babies.

Undertale Sans - Sans can't remember the time his house was silent and he could watch TV or sleep more than two minutes. He doesn't remember either when is the last time he took a shower. He doesn't even smell all the baby poop and vomit anymore. He's just doing things like a robot at this point, hoping to survive the first few months. Thank god Papyrus accepted to move in for a while to help him and S/O deal with all this. The three of them look sleep deprived and on the verge of crying, but it's going to be fine eventually. God, they hope it's going to be fine.

Undertale Papyrus - He was quite surprised how many tiny little humans you could carry in your belly. Even the royal guards dogs don't usually have this many puppies. That won't break Papyrus' determination. He doesn't sleep that much anyway in the first place. He's struggling at night so his S/O can have at least a few hours a sleep, and this until he passes out on the floor from exhaustion. After a few months though, he starts to get things into control and very organised days to feed, play, wash, walk and make sleep the babies. He feels like an octopus mom. The neighbours are so impressed. Sans too. Especially when he visits him with his eight babies all at once and somehow manages to keep him all calm and nice for Uncle Sans.

Underswap Sans - He's having a mental breakdown. He was already insecure for one baby, but eight?! With his police officer job, he can't be here all the time, and he can see you're struggling, but man, he needs alone time. He tries to be present when you're really down, but he's just so uncomfortable with all these little hands touching him. He's not the best dad, but he tries to improve with time.

Underswap Papyrus - They are all little daddy girls. It's quite shocking how Honey is able to keep them all calm and nice. In two months, they're doing their nights. He loves his new full-time dad job and works hard so his S/O can still have some alone time, he doesn't mind. As long as there's children, he is happy. And he has his three dogs to warn him when a baby is threatening to wake up too. He's scared of when they are going to grow up and not need him as much though.

Underfell Sans - He hired Toriel and Papyrus for help. He doesn't know how she manages to keep the children all nice and calm, but it's working. Red is learning a lot with her. He's not the best at first, but in no time, he's catching on to help, and he's quite a natural. He just needs his S/O to tell him he's doing good to be reassured and encouraged to keep going. It's going surprisingly well, and maybe he's starting to like that.

Underfell Papyrus - This is going to be the death of him. The first few months are really fine, Edge is quite organised and with S/O, they found a pretty solid organisation to take care of the children. No, it's when they start to crawl everywhere his nightmare begins. Edge is very protective, but he thought he would have to protect the babies from the outside world, not his own damn house. The first time one of his baby found a knife behind the sofa, he almost had a soul attack. And god, when they start to walk, he begins paranoid at the park, constantly counting them to make sure he doesn't lose one of sight. His soul can't take all the pressure. What next? Boy and Girlfriends? Oh god, don't mention it, he's going to pass out.

Horrortale Sans and Papyrus - Well either it's Oak or Willow's kids, the other is going to help. With S/O and Toriel's help, it's even more easy. They are already used to deal with groups of children as they're making schools visits in their farms, so they are pretty ok with all these children around. A lot of Snowdin people come by here and there to lean a hand too, especially when they need some alone time. The children are not only getting raise by the skeleton brothers but by the entire monsterkind (well, what's left of it). It's going to be alright!

Swapfell Sans - S/O and him tricked Rus once so they could have a day off. When they went back from their week-end, Rus was curled up on the floor in an ocean of baby screams, crying. That didn't work after that. Oh well. It's ok. Nox finds his new job. He's going to trick people to come and look after his children. It worked with Alphys, Undyne and even Toriel once. He's ready to corrupt humans too now. You have a big family, he's sure he can be convincing enough.

Swapfell Papyrus - He has to grow up really fast, man. This is going to be a wild run as Rus will always try to find easy ways to make things, like putting all the children in front of TV while S/O isn't looking, or feeding them nuggets once they have their fist teeth, to the points the children don't want to eat anything else. S/O is constantly trying to correct all the things Rus did wrong. His brother is fortunately here to discipline a little all these little monsters with his military experience. Only to lose all authority once he sat on a whoopee cushion, making all the kids giggle and think he's a joke too. These children are going to be difficult.

Fellswap Gold Sans - Thanks Toriel that would never happen. Wine doesn't want any children or would be gone the second you say the word "baby".

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - The first months are ok, as he has help from his S/O and from his friends. But... Uh... Soon the children realise he has absolutely no authority and quickly takes advantage of it to ruin his life. They fear their mom, not him. He will have a hard time not panicking when his children tricks him to go outside without him or lose him in the crowd. He's going to have many panic attacks in the future.

#undertale #underswap #underfell #horrortale #swapfell #fellswap gold #undertale ask blog #undertale asks #undertale imagines #undertale headcanons

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ao3feed-hawks · 1 year

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The Rooftops That Cry at Night

The Rooftops That Cry at Night by ya boi 976

Just because Dabi is a villian doesn't mean he's going to leave the #2 hero alone breaking down on the verge of a panic attack. He may be an ass but he's not a complete asshole.

Might be a bit out of character but I don't really care, I started this fic at 3 AM because someone was playing the flute outside of my dorm and I couldn't sleep

Words: 1217, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Dabi | Todoroki Touya, Takami Keigo | Hawks

Relationships: Dabi | Todoroki Touya/Takami Keigo | Hawks, Dabi | Todoroki Touya & Takami Keigo | Hawks

Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Crying, Touch-Starved, Takami Keigo | Hawks Needs a Hug, Hurt Takami Keigo | Hawks, Soft Dabi | Todoroki Touya, Panic Attacks, Kinda, Age Regression/De-Aging, a little bit, Takami Keigo | Hawks Needs Therapy, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Mental Breakdown, Sleep Deprivation, Author Is Sleep Deprived, so is Hawks, Hugs

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45798712

#AO3 Feed #FanFiction #AO3 Hotwings #♥#Dabihawks #Hotwings #⚣#R:T #A:Ya Boi #Mental Illness #Hurt Comfort #Fluff #Angst

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stayarmytinyzenmoa-l · 1 year

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Be right back because I have a midterm in T-3 hours and I'm mad cramming but anyway I MISS YOU GUYS SO MUCH I MISS WRITING I MISS EVERYTHINGAAAAAHHHHH I'm so sorry I've been so mia uni is kind of kicking my ass right now and my crush just confessed to me like twelve hours ago and I still don't know how to process it correctly because y'all have to understand this is the first time someone reciprocated my feelings the same way I do so I'm high key freaking out because his timing waS SO BAD HE KNEW I HAVE A MIDTERM TODAY SO I WAS FREAKING OUT ABOUT THAT AND I KNOW HE KNEW BECAUSE HE WAS LIKE "I know you have a midterm and finals so you don't have to give me an answer right now" EVIL MAN I WANT TO SAY YES BUT I JUST HAD A MENTAL BREAK DOWN ABOUT CELL BIOLOGY AND AHHHHHHHHHHH I'll update y'all about this later but still I'm kind of (a lot) freaking out and I also have a quad shot and two hours before I drank instant coffee so not only am I sleep deprived and confused, I'm also over-caffeinated and on the verge of crashing.

TL;DR: Don't go into STEM unless you can handle it.

#crys talks #personal #I literally cried on my way home because of how overwhelmed I was fr #I'll answer asks once I'm fully conscious I promise #rn I'm living and breathing all the membrane transports so like don't talk to me AHAHAHA

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penguicorns-are-cool · 1 month

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I need everyone to understand that grades do not measure anything, they do not meaningfully signify anything

not intelligence, not mental health, not IQ, literally nothing

if a kid has high grades, that does not actually mean they're doing well outside of keeping their grades up, and if a kid has low grades that doesn't mean that their doing badly outside of trying to keep their grades up

I've learned over time that If I push the rules I won't get in trouble as long as my grades are up. In classes where I could coast with an A, it wouldn't matter if I came in late, slept in class, was disruptive, turned in some things late, the teacher just wouldn't really care. Actually, I think I have a few teachers who will grade me less harshly and allow me to turn in work a little later than others just because I've always had a high grade in their class.

In classes where I had a lower grade, I would get scolded and have my doodle sheets taken away because I clearly wasn't paying attention (the doodle sheets were helping me pay attention but ok), I would be more likely to get in trouble for being a bit late and the teachers would be more nit-picky with my work which would make it even harder to bring my grade up

For the past four years I've had mostly straight As and I swear I'll go months struggling and complaining about how sleep deprived I am and how much I need a break and be on the verge of a breakdown for months, but the only times that someone has ever asked me what was wrong or if something was wrong is when a grade drops, and most of the time my grade is not dropping at the same time that I'm struggling those two things are pretty unrelated actually because the grade goes in weeks after I finish the assignment at times and therefore weeks after the time that I was struggling. Then, if I have the energy to tell them rather than getting defensive about it, they always seem to forget once my grade goes up after the next assignment.

I can lay in my bed all night after a school night, not even coming down for dinner, and my parents will act like nothing happened the next day I just took a long nap (this is not the same thing that happens for my brothers with low grades they btw they would get yelled at and threatened to have their electronics taken away)

like, the entire treating students differently or assuming what their mental health is like based on their grades is stupid and harmful and just please stop

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hope-you-do-not-relate · 1 year

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I should remember that even if I don't sleep time isn't going to stop, it won't pass as quickly yeah but it still won't stop and it still won't be good for my mental health today.

Because to stay up the rest of the day I have to drink coffee in the morning which means nausea and feeling messed up in my stomach area.

But caffeine means having my brain that is like 30 chrome tabs open at the same time.

But sleep deprivation means I have like 3GB of RAM for all of them. Not for each tab, like for all the tabs going on together.

And I'm also hyper fixating on The adventures of Merlin, that is what I watched between yesterday night and this morning.

So you have a maladaptive daydreaming mess on the verge of a mental breakdown and sleep deprived that can't focus on shit and at the same time hyperfocuses on random shit and why??? BECAUSE IT'S BACK TO SCHOOL AFTER THE WINTER BREAK BABY AND I'M FUCKING SCARED LOL

Also probably have an oral interview that I'm not ready for LOL but I can't fucking focus on shit, or maybe I'm lazy, who fucking knows at this point I just stopped caring.

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daddy-chiluc · 3 years

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I’ll be here to chase away your Nightmares (Chiluc)

• Fluff with hints of Angst

TW: Mentions of drinking/getting drunk, Nightmares, mentions of character death, wounds/injuries (i.e. bruises and scratches), intentionally hurting the other, panic attack, unaddressed insomnia, unaddressed depression.

• Summary: Childe wakes up in Angel’s Share after a nightmare with only Diluc there to aid him. Of course, the fiery man had done more for him than he would’ve expected.

Diluc’s p.o.v.

———————————————————————

Whether it was the odd sense of nostalgia I felt when I looked at him or the burning hatred I couldn’t tell you...but somehow, for some reason, the Harbinger that was fast asleep in my tavern brought an overwhelming sense of ease and comfort to my night.

It was obvious he was tired. He downed several shots if Firewater before passing out on top of the wooden counter. He’d arrived in his usual uniform, the mask and coat more than likely discarded on a box under the stairway. Just looking at him now I could see just how tense he was, wounds and bruises littered his body here and there, a few peaking out as he breathed.

He groaned, his eyebrows furrowing together as he stirred in his sleep. He must’ve been dreaming...it doesn’t seem to be a pleasant one either. From my spot behind the counter I can see beads of sweat line his forehead. A nightmare. I’ve had my fair share of those to know when it’s bad...but to jolt up, screaming and completely sober after downing more than six shots of Firewater? No, there was something wrong. He panics, his eyes darting around and blurry as he hyperventilates.

I quickly set down the wine glass I had been cleaning and rushed to his side, gently placing a hand on his back as I pulled him to my chest. Even for someone I’d consider my enemy, simply witnessing what he was going through was enough to make my stomach churn with uneasiness.

“Childe, breathe.” I say loud enough for him to hear as I gently card my fingers through his ginger locks. Perhaps my actions were far from normal — especially since they had been toward Childe. But, seeing him so...so scared, only triggered one reaction from me. Maybe, just maybe, it had been the right reaction because I felt him grip onto my white vest as he cried into my chest, the sobs making my heart ache. To see him so broken like this was almost uncomfortable. I didn’t know how to help, I knew my actions were out of character but it feels like the right thing to do now.

He gasped in my arms, trying to catch his breath as I felt his body tremor in my arms. A panic attack? I’m not entirely sure but I think that’s what this is. I’m not experienced enough to handle this...shit. With a sudden idea coming to mind, I sigh, thankful that the tavern’s been closed up. Gently, I ease him onto the floor with me, sitting him beside me as I brought his head to my chest. I slowed my breathing as I spoke softly.

“Breathe with me, alright Tartaglia? In...and out...,” I continue the words as I take deep, slow breaths in and out. I slip off one of my gloves, letting my bare hand gently rub his head, his fluffy orange strands shifting around my fingers. The grasp he has around my waist slowly starts to loosen as his once irregular breathing slows down. He lifts himself from my chest and rubs at his eyes with his thumb.

“Shit...” he hisses at himself as he rests his head against the wall of the counter with a slight thud. His expression screams with exhaustion, the circles under his eyes are far more prominent than I remember...that or I just never cared enough to notice. His facial features seem to relax in a sort of numbness as he hangs his head forward.

“Sorry about that...” he chuckles to himself, rubbing his eyes forcefully in the palms of his hands, “I’ll be taking my leave now, thank you for serving me Diluc.” He mutters as his body slumps farther forward.

“Where are you going?”

“I have a room here in Mondstadt, don’t worry I’ll be out of your hair before dawn.” He grunts as he stands, his usually tall build becoming so much smaller.

“You know you don’t need to apologize for that. It was obvious whatever nightmare you had was horrifying enough to wake you up like that.” I try to alleviate whatever self deprecating thought he was thinking. He turns to me and that’s when it clicks. That’s the look of a torn and broken man. That was more than a nightmare to him...it was real enough to send him into a panic attack upon waking up.

I stand up and walk briskly in his direction, grabbing our things and the keys to the tavern. He stares at me, confused as his eyebrows knit upward. I sigh as I nod my head towards the door.

“Come on, let’s go.” He seems to flinch at the words I said, looking baffled by my actions. I await for a teasing remark but nothing comes.

“Where are we going?” His voice is raspy from his crying, his broad shoulders dropping as he tries to relax.

“Back to the Winery, now hurry up before Mondstadt’s gates shut for the night.” I deadpan as he ushers over to my side. I blow out the candles and lock up Angel’s Share, Childe hot on my heels. The rest of the walk back to the Winery is silent, the moon beaming high in the night sky as our boots clicked against stones and eroded bricks that were buried in our pathway. When we arrive Adeline rushes to my side, grabbing our coats as I ask her to find suitable sleeping garments for Childe tonight.

I turn around and his eyes are dull with exhaustion. He tries to wave off the need for sleepwear as he trudges over to one of my couches. I’m quick to rush over to him and drag him away from the cushions.

“What are you doing?” He mumbles as he sways just a bit.

“You aren’t sleeping on the couch.” I grumble, deciding my excuse would be ‘I’d rather not have him dirty my couch with his muddy boots’. I’m sure he’d buy that wouldn’t he? Perhaps that’s an excuse for me more than it is for him. He groans, his head coming down on my shoulder as he grasps at the thin fabric of my black button up hidden behind my white vest.

“Why not ‘Luc?” He slurs, on the verge of falling asleep where he stood. I don’t respond, deciding to put my attention elsewhere, Adeline becoming the perfect escape. Once the clothes are in my hands, I help Childe up the stairs to my own room.

“Get changed.” I shove the clothes in his direction and it’s slow but he slips off his maroon shirt. I can hear him wince as he grounds himself against the end of the bed frame.

“I’m not sure if it’s okay for me to sleep tonight.” He mutters, as he looks at my floorboards.

“You need it. You’re exhausted.” His eyes slowly look up at me, his head following soon after as he gulps — his adam’s apple bobbing before he licks his chapped lips. A harsh laugh breaks his throat as he shakes his head.

“I’m really not worth your generosity Diluc,” he seems to be a little more awake this time. It’s as if he’s not allowing himself to sleep. Agitated, I myself grab clothes to sleep in, turning my back as I start to work on my tie and vest.

“I can leave...” he says sheepishly, his voice small, not as boisterous as what it should be. I turn to look at him over my shoulder and notice he’s looking straight down, trying to respect my privacy. Gods, who would’ve guessed I’d have a soft spot for a sleep deprived Childe? Slipping on the white button up, I turned back around and studied his form. Scars were across his chest and torso, some along his shoulders and a few peaking along his neck, possibly stretching down his back.

I blink, trying to not be a creep as I stride over to him and cupped his face. His eyes were wide, awake, vibrant as they looked up at me. No. No, don’t look at me like that. Don’t you dare look at me with such longing and admiration. I can feel him relax as his arms go slack between his legs. I can see his fingers twitch as tears well up in his eyes.

“F-fuck,” he stutters as he pulls his face away, tears rolling down his cheeks, “A-a warning...next time would be nice.” He stammers, as he grips at the bed sheets with one hand and wipes away his tears. He curses at himself for crying for the second time this night as his chest heaves. He seems frustrated with himself? To be honest, it’s rather endearing to see his façade finally break away.

“Tartaglia?” He seems to choke on air as he stands up abruptly, his tall build looming over me. He goes to grab his maroon shirt from the floor but I’m quick to summon my claymore to pin the shirt down to the floor boards. He laughs, empty and cold as he stands straight up again.

“I liked that shirt.”

“Adeline can fix it in the morning, now finish getting dressed and get your ass in bed.” My stern tone makes him look at me, not out of disbelief but something softer. Calmer. More at ease. Sighing in defeat, he complies slipping the shirt on before I turn away so he can slide on the pants I had given him. While he crawls in bed, his back facing me, I slip on my black, legging pants, the top reaching to the middle of my stomach allowing me to tuck in the white shirt. He roles over, his hair pooling against the pillow as he watches me undo my hair from its tie.

There’s that look again. The look of adoration. Of an untamed affection that he’s just barely keeping subdued. He goes to say something, his mouth gaping for a moment as I slide in next to him.

“Why did you bring me to your home? And to your bed?” He asks quietly, his voice mingling gently with the crickets just outside.

“You’re in no shape to sleep alone, emotionally, physically or mentally. Besides, I’d rather you pass-out in my sheets rather than in the middle of battle. If you die I can’t beat the shit out of you.” I hum, trying not to show too much concern but the smile he gives tells me he knows everything I’m trying to hide.

“Right.” He whispers as he turns on his back to stare up at the ceiling, an arm behind his head as he takes deep breath. Not another word is exchanged as I roll over, my back facing him as I myself try to sleep. I’m not sure whether it’s been minutes or hours but even in my drowsy state I can hear him shuffling.

“What’re you doing?” I mumble as I roll to face him.

“Can’t sleep.” Far too tired to care about my own actions, I open my arms for him and I can practically feel his hesitation.

“You’re sleepy, you don’t want to cuddle me.” He says more to himself than to me.

“Would you shut the fuck up and come here.” I grumble, far too irritated to argue with him as I pull him to my chest myself. I can feel him slump in my arms, his hefty build relaxing against mine as his arm wraps around my waist to pull me closer as his head hides away in the crook of my neck. He breathing slows as he starts to fall asleep.

“Can we keep what happened tonight between us? He asks sheepishly as he pulls away, wincing from his wounds once more. I nod, far too tired to do anything else I pull him back into my embrace. In my head I knew that what I was doing may have been wrong...but it felt like the right thing to do. It was obvious he was hurting. I feel him relax against me before he twitches awake — a cruel and seemingly endless cycle the Harbinger goes through.

“What’s wrong Tartaglia?” I question with closed eyes, as I cradled the back of his head in the palm of my hand. He’s silent for a moment before he speaks.

“Just...anxious.”

“To sleep?” He nods, not daring to answer for a moment. I open my eyes this time and look down at him. He seems far more disappointed with himself than he was at the tavern.

“What’s wrong?” I ask as I trace his cheekbone with my thumb.

“Just feel pathetic.” He mutters not pulling away from my warmth for even a second.

“Why?”

“...”

“Why Tartaglia?” I push on pulling my head away from his to study his bloodshot eyes.

“I’m not supposed to cry...I also don’t want to be a bother.” The nightmare must’ve fucked him up horribly for him to even share something this personal with me. The dead look in his eyes returns as he doesn’t even bother to make eye contact... Just minutes ago there was that excited, elated glow. How could it have left so quickly? Without another word I roll enough to push the clear curtains back and crack open the window the bed was pushed up against.

As a soothing breeze hurries in, I gently pull his head from my chest to look at his eyes. He’s wide awake again...he’s not letting himself sleep. I run my fingers through his hair and down his spine, his body curling towards me.

“‘M sorry...” he mutters, his hand clutching the bed sheets as tired tears prick his eyes.

“I’m not accepting your apology.” He’s stunned for a moment as his heavy body relaxes further into the linens, “You are not pathetic for crying and you are not a bother to me. I chose to help you sleep tonight because I couldn’t bare the guilt or thought if I left you alone after what I witnessed.”

“Besides...crying is what makes you human.” He seems to mutter something about Snezhnaya before he cups my cheek, that faint glow in his eyes returning. He seems hopeful. Relaxed. He pulls me closer to his body, curling around me as I feel his arms become heavy.

“Thank you Diluc...”

“You’re welcome.”

It’s silent again yet neither of us dared to close our eyes, far too worried about the other. Too worried about the possibilities the night could bring...and the anxiety of what our dreams would end up haunting us with. Which ever came first; it was a horrid race of the inevitable...or so I thought. Childe’s movements were kept to a minimum, almost as if he were scared to move. At this rate we’ll end up passed out by morning.

He winces for the umpteenth time as he moves away to lie on his stomach. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt if I helped him with his wounds. They seem untreated and I’d rather have them disinfected before morning. I sit up cautiously, trying not to alert him as I search for a first aid box.

“Do you need me to leave?” He rasps as he turns to look at me.

“No, just stay there.” It’s quiet once more, his almost pained, labored breathing filling the room. Striding back to the large bed, I sit on the edge as I pat the space beside me. He shuffles over steadily, as he comes to a cross legged position by my side.

“I need you to take off your shirt.” The teasing remark I expected never came as he complied. The wounds and scratches are far more visible.

“I can just heal myself. It won’t be perfect but...I do have a hydro vision.”

“If they aren’t handled properly they’ll get infected.” The words are far more sincere than I would’ve liked, but they’re ignored as my fingers tread thoughtfully along his abdomen, my movements languid as I keep the pain to a minimum while he eyes me like a hawk. I cleanse his cuts and spread a thin ointment over his bruises, a sharp wince leaving his throat as he grips onto the bed sheets.

“I’m trying to be gentle...”

“I know, it’s fine...” instead of the suffocating, noiseless atmosphere that had filled the room minutes ago, there was a peace that has made the both of us relax just a little bit more.

“How long have you had these wounds?” I sigh out, almost frustrated with him for not going to see a healer as soon as he had these wounds.

“Since this morning I think? I had a mission in Liyue.”

“You didn’t care to stop to see a healer?”

“Didn’t have the time...but if avoiding a healer allows me to be healed by you I just might avoid healers from now own.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” I seethe, digging my fingers into a bruise on his shoulder. He doesn’t wince or tell me to stop. He doesn’t react at all. Strange, I may have to poke around on that later. I deliberately wrap his body in bandages, taking my time so the bandages aren’t too tight or too loose. Tying a knot at his waist, I help him put his shirt back on as I help ease him back into the bedsheets.

When we crawl in, his eyes don’t leave me for a second. Whether he was studying me or not I couldn’t tell...but when his bare fingers traced the veins of my hands, it made me far more alert of his presence. The scars and callouses that covered his hands were a sudden contrast that eased me, making me relax next to the Harbinger.

“If you don’t mind me asking...what was your nightmare about?” I prodded hesitantly, watching as he takes in a heavy, shaky breath, a sharp flinch in his hand at the question. It must’ve been terrifying.

“If I tell you, you can’t ask any questions.” The statement comes slowly, hesitant to even answer my question.

“If you’re that uncomfortable to tell me then I won’t pressure you.” He rolls away, flat on his back as he stares up at the ceiling, almost lost in thought.

“It was a new nightmare...one I’ve never had before.” A new one?

“Just how often do you have these nightmares?” He’s silent. Dead silent. Possibly the quietest he’s ever been around me.

“They come often...but sometimes I can’t remember them by morning.”

“What time do you wake up after these nightmares?”

“Probably around the middle of the night. I don’t really get a lot of sleep because of them.”

“Is that why you come to my tavern so often? To get drunk enough for you to pass out? You said to me you came just to annoy me... You wanted to hide that you couldn’t sleep.” As the pieces of the puzzle connect perfectly to me, he turns his head, a sad smile gracing his features.

“So what was your nightmare about? You were practically drunk when you passed out.”

“You keep saying I was drunk. I wasn’t drunk. Just tipsy. It takes a lot of shots of Firewater to get me drunk Diluc,” he groaned, irritated.

“So you’re telling me, it takes you more than seven shots of Firewater to get drunk?”

“I’m from Snezhnaya Diluc, I can drink Firewater like it’s water.” He chuckles lightly as he rests a hand behind his head. Right, he’s from Snezhnaya.

“Either way, I still had to help calm you down... I won’t judge you over the nightmare you had.” He starts to talk slow and steady, not trusting his own voice, eyes still focused on the ceiling.

“I had...a uh....I had a nightmare that...that you were in trouble. I tried to save you and...and you were dead in my arms. I know because I tried to listen to your heartbeat.” He took in a deep shaky breath as he turned his head to look at me, pale crystalline blue eyes glossed over as they met my scorching ruby ones. I have so many questions. What happened? Did he see me get hurt? Was I already dead or did I die in his arms? Why was I in his nightmare anyway? Did finding me dead send him into that much of a panic?

“So did hearing my heartbeat help? When you woke up?” He let out a breathy laugh, more relaxed at my question as he fiddled with his fingers.

“You have no idea how much that helped.”

“Would you like to listen to it now? See if it helps you tonight?” He tenses, his head quickly turning to me with wide eyes. His expression screams ‘you’d let me do that?’ and for a brief moment I can feel my heart ache for the second time tonight.

“I...I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I mean you already hate me—,”

“I hate watching you struggle to fall asleep more, now would you like to or not? It’s getting late.” I mumble, tears filling my eyes as I yawn. I hear his breath catch in his throat as he rolls onto his side. He tears at the dry skin of his lips, thinking to himself.

“What if I wake you up? I can’t even sleep right now.”

“Damn it Childe.” I groan, unconcerned of his worry for my well being as I pull him onto my chest his head turned to listen to my heartbeat as it thundered quickly from the sudden movement.

“Go. The fuck. To sleep. If you wake up, I’m right here to help.” I yawn once more as I run my fingers through his hair again as I start to doze off myself.

“M’kay?” I question as I curl into his warmth, lightly draping my arms around him in a loose hug, far too tired to care that a Harbinger was in my sheets with me.

“Okay Diluc...” he whispers as he holds onto my waist tightly, grasping onto my shirt.

“‘Kay.” I finish, my eyes fluttering shut, “Goodnight Tartaglia.” His name is slurred together once they leave my lips.

“Sweet dreams Firefly.”

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 years

Text

A Miraculous TikTok Account

Part 16

First

Rena honestly hadn’t known what to think when she’d opened the door to see Ladybug looking to be on the verge of death.

Ladybug hardly slept, everyone was aware of that -- they could hear her above them moving around at almost all hours -- but apparently she was reaching her limit. Rena could actually see the bags under her eyes… which shouldn’t be possible, they’re all wearing masks, but there they were.

“You look…”

She trailed off, unable to even think about saying the words ‘You look like shit’ aloud without feeling a twinge of guilt.

Ladybug didn’t seem all that phased, though. “I’ve been told. Anyways, I’ve finished doing math and stuff. Come look.”

A hand locked around her wrist before she’d even thought of a response and she was pulled from her room with a quiet cry of surprise. If Ladybug registered the sound, she didn’t say anything. Rena glanced at her kwami and jerked her head in the direction of her room wordlessly. Trixx seemed to understand and went inside. She heard the creak of her door closing as she was pulled down the stairs.

She momentarily considered asking Ladybug if she was okay, but when she got to the board and saw all the work that she had done over the past day she figured that she already had her answer.

Rena looked over the calculations to make sure she didn’t mess up in her sleep-deprived state and then her eyes found their way to a sheet of paper that was labelled ‘Distinguishing Attributes’ --.

What the fuck?

Well… she wasn’t necessarily WRONG but it was… an odd thought to have… especially for her of all people...

“Hey, quick question, why does it say he has a ‘condom-head’?”

Ladybug snapped to full alertness and her eyes scanned over the document. Her face drained of color for a moment before suddenly flaring red.

Rena wasn’t looking at this, though. She looked down at Ladybug’s hands.

Rena had been getting better at sensing when she was about to be lied to over the past month or so. She didn’t know if the side-effects of her kwami were finally starting to show up or if she was just starting to better understand the other miraculous holders and their tells, but either way...

Ladybug’s fingers worried the hem of the red blouse she was wearing. Whatever she was going to say, it was a lie.

“No one is perfect when they’re sleep-deprived.”

“True. But not the reason. Try again.”

The other’s shoulders sagged and she slumped down in a chair, resting her hands over her eyes. “Damn it.”

“Wh… what?” Said Rena, barely resisting the urge to try and clean out her ears.

“I said ‘damn it’.”

Yeah. That’s what she’d thought she’d said. Still weird to hear that out of her mouth.

Ladybug finally pulled her hands away from her face to look at Rena. “If you promise not to tell anyone I’ll explain.”

“Depends on what you tell me.”

She considered this for a minute…

“Fine. You might want to sit down.”

Well, those were a worrying few words. She obliged, though, pulling a chair out and perching herself there.

“I’m sure you know by now that we all have personas we use for work -- except Chat, I think, which kinda sucks for him but that’s neither here nor there,” Ladybug started, the corners of her lips drawn up in the barest of smiles before she seemed to remember what she was talking about and her expression sobered. “Well… ‘Ladybug’ as you know her doesn’t exist. At all.”

Rena wasn’t sure how exactly to respond to that. She settled for: “I’m sorry, what?”

“I don’t know how to explain it much better than that. My persona is being the ‘perfect one’, right? Obviously people aren’t perfect, and I’m… not at all close. All the uptightness and everything is pretty much the opposite of how I am, actually.”

She was quiet for a moment before resting her head in her hands so she could process what in the world was happening.

Sure, Carapace had already told her that everyone was faking on some level... but he’d made it sound like they were all taking pieces of themselves and then exaggerating them, not straight up faking an entire personality --.

“Wait, you told me not to tell anyone. Does no one else know?”

“No. And they won't,” said Ladybug, leveling her with a cold look.

Rena considered it. That glare was… dangerous. Ladybug still had a perfect track record on everything that she knew of and she didn’t want ‘murdering Rena Rouge’ to be on her list of accomplishments.

But she shook her head. “No. You need to tell them. This isn’t healthy. You can’t fake your personality all day without breaks, your mental health will plummet. I don’t want to fight an akumatized Ladybug, thanks.”

Ladybug rolled her eyes. “I have a job.”

She couldn’t help but be skeptical about this claim, but how could she prove otherwise?

“Do you work in customer service?” Asked Rena.

“... you can’t ask me that.”

“Don’t worry, that’s all I’m going to ask about it. Answer the question.”

Ladybug frowned but eventually did so: “I mean… kind of --?”

“Then you can’t act like yourself at your job.”

“... I can’t even argue with that. Fine. You caught me: I’m acting all day. But it’s fine.”

“It’s not. I’m telling them. You should at least be able to be yourself in your own house.”

There was a few seconds of silence as they stared each other down. Neither of them were particularly eager to give in on this one…

Ladybug eventually slumped forward on the table and covered her head with her hands. Her voice was barely discernible because of the way her face was squished against the table, but she managed to piece together what she was saying:

“I’m too tired for this. Just… let’s keep it a house secret. Please?”

She didn’t like it, but she nodded reluctantly. Then she realized that Ladybug wouldn’t be able to see her from the angle she was at and she quickly said: “Sure.”

She got a vague wave to say ‘go ahead then’ and Rena tried to quell her excitement as she pulled her phone out.

Foxyou: Guys apparently Ladybug has been faking her personality and she’s actually way more relaxed

Capot: cool

Chat: Weird. But at least she’s comfortable enough to tell us that now and hopefully she’ll be comfortable enough to act like herself sometime soon. :D

Rena decided that he didn’t need to know that this wasn’t exactly Ladybug being comfortable enough and more her messing up and having no other choice than to confess.

Foxyou: Yeah

Queenie: I was wondering who was going to be the first person to figure it out.

Before she could even start to type out all the questions she had, Chloe had sent another message:

Queenie: Wait. If you figured it out that means she’s home. Where is she?

Normally, Rena would be all for just lying about where Ladybug was. However, as she looked at the person in front of her that she was pretty sure had passed out with her head against the table, she decided that, just this once, she’d do the right thing.

Foxyou: Kitchen come get her

Chloe stormed in not even a minute later, only to still when she saw Ladybug had fallen asleep. She huffed a little and picked her up, mouthing ‘thank you’ to Rena and then taking her to bed.

Rena was feeling like going to sleep herself, honestly. That had been a lot to process. She rubbed her face and then shrugged to herself. She didn’t have anything to do that day. She headed up after them.

~~~

Taglist

@nathleigh @mialuvscats @sassakitty @th1s-1s-my-aesthet1c @blueslushgueen @woe-is-me0 @ladybug-182 @cas-and-their-refusal-to-write

#a miraculous tiktok account #rena rouge #alya cesaire #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #queen bee #chloe bourgeois #nino lahiffe #carapace #chat noir #adrien agreste #miraculous team #miraculous fic #ml fic #chloenette #chlonette #adrino

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jj-ktae · 3 years

Text

Note I - Ionones -

Moodboard : Courtesy of the lovely Jacqueline @jaebeomsmullet ! Thank you for helping and hyping and just being here whenever I need it.

› Title : Fragrances › Genre : Angst, Fluff, Romance, Composer!Jungkook x Perfume Maker!Reader › Pairing : Jeon Jungkook x Female Reader › Warning : Mentions of Suicide, heavy subjects, depression (none of these are used with the idea of glamourising mental illness), strong language, smut in later chapters probably. Do not read if any of these trigger you.

› Author’s note : This is another version of the story I wrote a few years ago for GOT7. Some of the events will be different, others will not change just like some paragraphs will be the same and others won’t. Informations, definitions and words are taken from this website.

› Summary : In the world of Perfume making, it is believed that everyone has their own natural fragrance. It is also believed that everyone has that one scent capable of making them feel a thousand things. You find yours in the form of a composer on the verge of breaking, right when you have to face one of the biggest challenge in your life.

Masterlist | Note I - Ionones | Note II : Aldehydes

________

Note I: Ionones

Violets and Iris depend on this group of highly valued synthetic chemicals. Used in small amounts in many floral, green, woody perfumes. Although this group of chemicals is dominated by just two chemicals "Ionone" and "Methyl Ionone" there are many, many isomers and qualities available that give different odour profiles from fruity - violet - green to iris. An important function is they act as blenders in a perfume helping the perfume to smell harmonious. It is also interesting to note that the nose quickly fatigues when smelling Ionones and the smell appears to fade. This same effect is found when smelling natural Violet flowers.

You are going back home the first time you meet him. It takes a nanosecond for the feeling to hit you straight in the bones. It forces your steps to slow down and stiffens your muscles right in the middle of the streets. You think for a minute, contemplative and in awe. Nothing about his physical appearance strikes you at first, it’s your nose doing all the job. It’s overwhelming, and so very rare it can’t be ignored. You come across this type of person once in your life as they say, causing an overwhelming feeling you never pegged as being so entrancing. It brings back memories from times you thought were forgotten, makes you want to scream and laugh. He is leaning on the bridge’s safety barrier and he doesn’t see the way you’re frozen behind him, blinking. You have never met him but it feels like you’ve known him forever.

You almost forget about your dear bed for a minute, but your phone tears you out of your adoration and you snap, your pace fastening before the man can turn around. It is hard to say if he was able to see you, and you don’t want to go away but you’re aware it might seem weird so you just keep on walking. Your body revives and your heart slows when the air turns evanescent.

You’re at home when your phone rings again, which pulls an annoyed groan out of your mouth. “What?” you mumble, plopping on the sofa in desperation.

“You need to come to the meeting tomorrow morning.” Your boss’ voice feels like a scratch on broken glass and you wince, unpleased “they want you to be here, and we have to make sure they’ll work with us.” He adds to soften you.

“I’m never invited to these and I like it better that way, why tomorrow?”

“It’s a big brand, I want them to see who is going to be in charge of their perfume. They don’t want to talk with managers. They don’t care. I promised you holidays and I swear once this is over you’ll have it. Please.”

The headache is pounding yet you sigh, defeated. You can’t reject this, you’re in no position to do that.

“I’ll be here.” You sigh, his relief now evident yet adding to your misery.

He is beaming on the phone, rushing thanks and stuttering, probably because of what seems to be a big, juicy contract. Exciting. His voice is way too loud when he wishes you a good night, leaving you with the deafening silence once he hangs up.

Being a composer is your job. You’re often called a perfume-composer, a perfume maker or even a perfumer and all of these are fine with you. It all explains the same thing; you use your nose to put scents together and create a perfume. You usually work with a tight schedule and precise requests, leaving you with generic projects. They involve what you call capitalist perfumes, targeted and produced for masses instead of harmony. Nowadays perfumes are for ‘suave’, ‘sexy’, ‘dynamic’ or even ‘active’ people. They’re best-sellers, perfumes you smell in the streets, shops, public transport, elevators. They’re repetitive and senseless. What used to be something exciting is now boring and dull.

You’re even starting to be disgusted by some of your creations.

And it’s for a good reason. People do not buy perfume according to their own smell. It’s something that is barely exploited by the companies, the probability of not selling in mass too counterproductive to bother explaining why some perfumes are not suited to everyone. You see it in the stores, how vendors spray anyone willing to be perfumed. These places became a hotchpotch of scents and it gets to your nose so easily it hurts.

You are able to distinguish a lot of different scents, and this is your job. Mixing stuff, looking for new elements, blend oils, this is what you love about making perfume. Your sensitive nose had made you choose a career surrounded by a farandole of fragrances, and while it may sound like a horrible life, it was what had helped you survive the probability of a boring job surrounded by horrible coworkers. It’s a solace so unusual and mysterious that you can selfishly appreciate its beauty and complexity on your own.

But now, you find yourself doubting as you peak at your neat organ*, brown and rustic. You didn’t sign for tasteless nights and headaches.

Going to sleep is hard that night, when your brain can’t forget about this man and his scent, his oh so perfect scent which you have yet to put a finger on. You finally forget about him and your brain turns off, while another person is going back home, head heavy and mind lost.

Jungkook throws his bag on his table and goes on the floor, silent.

He wasn’t able to end his life, again.

It’s hard to believe that you are currently meeting with a famous brand directly. Most of the time, they would meet your managers and you’d have a project sent over your way, leaving you a mere two weeks to work on a foolish project with foolish requests.

Today you are in shock though, because they are asking you what you want to do. It’s the first time you get asked about this and it frightens you, it scares the hell out of you when you suddenly have too much freedom. All ideas evaporate, like you have no taste and no dreams for a perfect perfume.

The woman’s stilettos make too much noise on the floor, and she speaks in a slow and irritating manner, like you’re too stupid to understand her request. She comes closer and you smile, weakly. It’s a mix between pain and fear, it looks like she is about to eat you up. Maybe it is because you look like a deer caught in headlights. “I’m asking you about your plans concerning our next fragrance. You get that we want an Eau de Parfum, and not an Eau de Toilette, which means we need lasting scents. We have no guidelines, no themes, no requests, just a thirst for your creativity. You have what it takes to make it from scratch without us poking into your business- I mean, I'll be here to check on how it is going, of course.” She speaks words at an incredibly fast pace, with a tone deprived of any doubt.

All you feel is your boss’ stare, boring holes into your back; he knows what you’re going to answer. “I’m afraid we don’t work that way. How am I supposed to know what kind of product you need? Don’t you already have an advertisement sample to show me? A muse, somebody representing the brand?” You try the best you can, because now you have too many possibilities and it can’t happen.

“We only have you and your talent, for now.”

Your boss walks up to you two and waves his hands “Not that we think you’re not worth our time, but we mostly work based on requests. We need a guideline.” He pleads, and his fake laugh nearly makes you scoff.

But the woman is thick headed, and she points a finger at you, accusingly. “This person doesn’t need us in order to create a perfume. We’ve been following you for so long after your last fragrance won 1st rank in Vogue’s top 10 Perfume recommendations. You were not easy to find, though.”

But you know, you know it wasn’t your own work, but simply something you were asked to do. “I’m sorry madam, but I simply did as I was told. Without this, I’m nothing.” You say and it sounds depreciatory concerning your own capacities but you don’t care. You are getting so scared right now that you’re ready to call yourself a scam in front of anyone.

The woman laughs and it looks like she can see through you “There is a thousand way to create a perfume with the same elements. You simply refuse to admit you’re a genius, but we both know you can’t waste your time beating yourself.” She adds and lets the contract fall on the glass table, stilettos beating the floor again and her expensive bag back on her shoulder.

“What the hell was that?” Your boss takes the contract and starts reading, but you just want to cry. You don’t want to do this, because you’re scared and afraid and you know you will fail. At the same time, you wanted this, you wanted to create on your own. You had thrown away so many samples until now, thinking it was useless. Now that somebody is asking for your true self, you back off. Your brain screams at you to stop being so contradictory and grasp that opportunity but you just feel numb and pressured and it’s enough to petrify you.

“I can’t. We can’t.” You mumble but your boss looks shocked, mouth agape and fingers gripping the contract.

“This is big, Y/N. Looks at this.” He says and you feel like fainting when you see the amount of money they are willing to pay. You know your boss will never refuse this and panic takes over.

Your shaky fingers almost tear the contract away “I’m going to fail; they will lose their time and the company will be ruined, you know it!”

But he knows better and smiles sweetly at you. “You’re always complaining about plain perfumes and cheap fragrances. You’re given a chance to compose on your own and I fully support you, so please tell me you’ll try, at least. We still have an observation period in case you can’t do it, okay?” you know he is not thinking about the money only, yet you hardly think he is thinking about your well-being either but you can’t refuse now, and you’re left with two pieces of paper and a lump in your throat as your boss goes out of the big office.

For the next couple of days it’s all you can think about, while your boss keeps on calling to make sure you’ll do it. You try to act rebellious a few times but to no avail; you end up agreeing because you don’t have the luxury nor the power to reject this offer.

You agree but deep inside you’re burning with fear. It’s not even exciting, it’s like a wide ocean, with no shores and huge waves. It’s suffocating.

The second time you meet the mysterious guy, he is at the same spot. He keeps on leaning against the bridge, and his whole existence looks like a misery but his smell makes you slow down again. It’s overwhelming, almost unbearable. There is no way a perfume can do that.

It’s a natural smell.

He doesn’t see you and you don’t see his face, but this is not even important right now. Your brain goes back and forth, and it’s a long journey to your past. This guy doesn’t even feel your presence and when you walk away, the feeling is gone, and you breathe again.

“I’m glad you decided to take this offer.” You’re just behind her. She is walking fast, passing halls after halls and you look around, unfamiliar with the smell. It’s like you’re entering the mafia because everyone bows like she owns the place. Only her smell lingers, suiting her perfectly.

Leather.

“As written in the contract, we will provide a lab and supplies. We can have everything you need, so feel free to ask.” She is bragging, and you know it’s her way of making you feel at ease but it’s even scarier. Obviously they are going to provide whatever you need. It's a big investment for little result.

“Oh, and I’ll introduce you to your assistant.” She turns around and winks at you.

“I- I have an assistant?” you stutter, it’s unreal. You don’t mind working alone- why would you even need someone to help?

“You’ll have an assistant, of course. You’re telling me you don’t have one at your company ?” You shake your head with power and she gasps “See? You don’t deserve to be treated this way.” She whispers and opens a door, white and shiny.

When you enter, the smell is strong with disinfectant. There’s no doubt they deep cleaned this place for the launching of a new product. The walls are grey, covered by old advertising pictures from the brand, the furniture seems brand new and there is a man. He looks around you age, with designer clothes and loafers. His hair is blond and he is wearing blue lenses.

“You’re here already?” The woman asks and he nods, his plumps lips revealing shiny teeth. He looks so happy.

“I couldn’t miss it, not when you’re bringing a genius here.” He talks funny and walks with no hidden enthusiasm. He looks like he is out of a fashion show and it’s making you step back with apprehension.

“Good, I guess we can start with the introductions. Meet your assistant.” He offers a hand and his smile widens when you reciprocate the gesture.

He smells like your latest creation “I’m Park Jimin. Nice to meet you, boss.”

Boss. What the hell.

“Nice...to meet you too?” It sounds like a question, but it’s actually a plea. You don’t want to do this.

“I’m so glad you agreed on working with us! It’s not easy to know who hides behind perfumes and it was hard to find you but we did !” He beams at the woman as she taps his shoulder, nodding.

“You found me ? How ?”

“I saw you at a launch product party. When I heard it was you I was so happy. I’m a big fan.” He laughs and you feel even more burdened. The woman is looking at you two like a proud - and rich - mother

“You’re wearing-”

“Yeah, it’s yours! Amazing, right? Oh, tell me if it suits me!” He lifts his head and offers you his neck, giggling.

“Jasmine. You bring out the jasmine in it.”

It’s true, Jasmine suits him.

He makes a weird noise before pointing a finger at the lady “I told you! She is a genius! It’s exactly why I bought it.”

“Since you’re getting along pretty well, I’ll leave you in the hands of this young boy.” Her strong smell of musk stays behind her when she turns around and leaves the room.

“I’m such a big fan of you. You might find it weird, but I bought every single perfume you made. For study purposes, of course!” He is embarrassed but a second later, he is back to serious. “You don’t wear perfume.” He looks intrigued.

“It blurs my sense of smell.”

“Oh my god, this is exactly what a genius would say.” He shakes his head, amazed at your apparently smart answer and proceeds to show you around the lab, the explanations never ending.

The rest of the day is spent next to this guy, who knows every single person in the building. You keep on shaking hands, and soon, you’re exhausted. Jimin is chatting non-stop, offering you drinks and being a perfect assistant.

You discover he is still an apprentice in the perfume industry and is aiming to become a composer for the brand. He tells you he loves fashion, and this you noticed, but he also says something that triggers you.

I want to be like you

You want to laugh at him for being such a fanboy, and you tell him numerous times that the perfumes you made are only things you were asked to create, that it wasn’t your own work, but he brushes you off, explaining you know nothing about your own skills. Jimin is the type of guy who loves to socialise, he has this way of communicating that makes everyone love him. The same day, you go back home with his phone number saved and a tone of messages from him about how excited he is to be working under your care.

On your way back home, you don’t see the guy.

Jungkook has plenty of time to think and he doesn’t like it. His apartment is silent and not even the cars passing by outside can ease the emptiness. He doesn’t dare look at the papers scattered on the floor. They are all creased, and the trash is full. He wants to crash the whole place; he wants to tear it to pieces. It’s infuriating, how everything is here for purpose and he has nothing to look forward to.

He can’t stand it anymore.

His phone rings but he ignores it. His best friend has been calling all day, and he knows he’ll receive a lot of nagging from him but he doesn’t care.

Soon, nobody will have to deal with his abnormal self.

Maybe it was supposed to end like this, even though he has no idea when it actually started. All Jungkook knows is that at some point, he became useless. He used to be efficient, powerful. But now everything is dull. His eyes burn, his ears ring, his mouth is dry.

This is garbage. You’re not what you used to be. Where did your talent go ?

He can stand critiques; he knows the music industry and its perks but he can’t stand being belittled. He doesn’t want anyone to question his way of functioning but it was starting to get a bit too frequent for his taste.

He gets up and goes to his huge and sophisticated window.

He wants everything to stop.

“How did you end up being a perfume maker?” Jimin is swallowing his food, filling the whole lab with spiciness and you want him to go away.

“Give me the bergamot sample.” You open another small bottle and ignore his question, trying to focus on your task.

“You’ve been on this all day, have a break, boss.” He tries although his voice is muffled by all the food he is trying to swallow. You know he is right. You have absolutely no idea about what you’re doing, so you mix stuff in hope of a miracle. Nothing works, everything smells terrible, it’s disgusting even.

“Here, drink something, at least. Take your time.” He coos with a worried expression.

You sigh and rub your face, tired. “I can’t do this.”

“I know, they gave you nothing. I’m here to help so don’t stay quiet and let’s think about this together. I know how they work, let’s take our time, no one is rushing you yet.”

You look at the scattered glass bottles and smelling strips. This is a mess.

Jimin asks you if you want to go to a party held by another luxury brand the same night but you refuse. He isn’t surprised when you tell him you hate going to these places. You’re not the type of person who likes to socialise, and your assistant understands but tells you that you have to go with him next time. You also refuse.

So you go back home. Your head hurts, your body is sore, and your brain is empty. The air is thick with humidity but you like how it resets your sense of smell, erasing all the stuff you’ve been smelling all day.

The guy is here. He is leaning against the bridge again but something about him irks you. He is shivering. His smell slowly fills your nostrils as you approach him and you can’t help but notice that he is leaning against the barrier a bit too much. He sighs, again and again and when he leans even more to look at the river under the bridge, you stop walking.

You’re right behind him.

It’s true that you’re not into socialising, but you definitely recognise someone in pain. His smell makes you move on your own and before he can sigh some more, you find yourself next to him.

It’s even stronger now.

He isn’t surprised when he feels somebody next to him. He stays quiet and acts like he is alone but straightens his back like he was caught doing something wrong.

“Did you...lose something?” You ask, peeking at the river far under your feet. You know he didn’t, but he doesn’t need to know that it’s not the first time you see him here.

“No.” His answer is short and it allows you to finally take a good look at his face. His brown locks cup his face, from his shiny eyes to his round nose and pouty lips. He’d look cool if it wasn’t for his pitiful aura.

“Are you trying to...?” You begin but his eyes go wide and you both understand. He can’t hide it anymore. You don’t notice how blunt your words are but your brain is processing too many things to focus on your conversational skills.

“Can you...leave me alone?” his voice is low and the words are slow. He is almost pleading.

“I can’t. You’re about to do some serious shit right now.”

“I’m not. Go away.” He asks again and you can feel how annoyed he is now.

“Look, I don’t know what happened, but I doubt you should be thinking about this.” He laughs at you and you regret trying to be such a smart-ass.

“How would you know? Just go, please.” He is irritated now, but you can’t let him do that. His smell works like a spell on you.

“I just do. Stop this. I’m not going anywhere until you go back to a safe place.”

“There is no such place. We don’t even know each other.” He is now looking at you with a bored expression.

“You must have a place to stay.”

He sighs loudly and turns to you, looking exhausted “I don’t, I’m homeless. What are you going to do about it?”

“Then come to my place.” You shrug and he makes a face. There is no way you just asked him to come to your place, right?

“You must be crazy.” He breathes but you shake your head. You can’t let this smell go to waste. Not when you don’t know what it is.

Your mind is screaming.

“I’m perfectly fine. If you’re going to do something stupid, I’ll call for help. If you don’t, then come to my place. I have enough room for two anyways.” You are really crazy.

“You’re a stranger. I might be some psycho running out there.”

“You’re none of that. Don’t try to make me back off.” He doesn’t smell like trouble. He smells like safety.

And he is crazier than you, because he agrees. His backpack is firmly hanging on his shoulder when he turns to face you once again.

“You’re not going to let me be.” Jungkook knows that at some point, he won’t get out of this. Now that you discovered what he is about to do, he won’t be in peace until you make sure he is safe, which is totally crazy. Serves him right for not even being good enough to leave peacefully.

“You...agreed?”

“What, you changed your mind? Good, then I can-”

“No! it’s fine! I thought I was being too crazy, that’s all.”

Jungkook nods. “This is crazy, but it can’t get any worse now.”

So you walk in front of him and toward your place. It is hard to think or talk with the smell right behind you, but you keep the game strong and walk proudly, like you just did something great. And you did, you’re bringing him home, when he was about to throw himself off the bridge. You don’t dare ask for more right now, because he might run away.

You open the door and Jungkook stops as soon as he enters the place.

It’s huge.

“There is a guest room but It’s full of my stuff. I’ll take it off tomorrow.” You say, taking off your coat.

“So I’m living here now?” Jungkook scoffs, hoping he is being sarcastic enough to make you give up on him.

“Why not? If you’re homeless, you can stay. I’ll note the door’s passcode on a piece of paper for you. Also, here is the-”

“Wait, I’m not going to live with you.”

“So where are you going to live? On this bridge?”

“I still have a flat until the end of the month, I lied. I thought you were crazy so I said whatever came to my mind.” He confesses, almost feeling guilty.

You’re not mad, not at all. Because now your flat is full of his smell, and it makes your brain work again. You want to know what it is.

“Oh then you’ll be homeless by the end of the month. If you’re uncomfortable, you can pay for your room. I don’t mind.” You shrug and his mouth is wide opened now.

You are really insane. Really.

“This situation is beyond weird. I don’t even know you.”

“And I don’t know you either, but you didn’t slaughter me yet so I guess we’re cool.” You’re being a bit too familiar but he doesn’t notice it, and simply walks deeper into your living-room.

Jungkook doesn’t know what is happening, but in a way, it’s not worse than his current situation. He wouldn’t be homeless; he would never be homeless but he prefers this rather than going back to the family house and admitting he failed. His best-friend is going to lecture him about how the music industry is full of drug addicts, and his parents, oh his parents.

His father would be too happy to prove his superiority.

His pride speaks for him “Okay, I agree. But I’m not staying for free.” He sits on the expensive couch and you know you’ve won this fight.

“Good. My name is Y/N. You are…?”

“Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook.” He lets his head fall on the fluffy material and closes his eyes. He is exhausted. He needs some sleep.

“Nice to meet you, Jeon Jungkook.” You speak like a robot, making him smile uncomfortably and mumble an answer. He doesn’t know why he is feeling so calm when he was about to do something horrible. Maybe he is going insane too. Maybe he has no idea what is going on in his life.

“You can wander the flat, I don’t mind. I’m seriously spent so I’ll head to bed. The guest-room is right there and the bedding is clean, I think...ah, the bathroom is at the end of this hall. Knock if you need something.” You escape now, the scent is filling the place and it makes your brain go wild. You don’t need this right now. Or maybe you do and you’re scared he will vanish if you push your luck any further.

“Good night. If you escape I’m going to fight you.” You try to warn him but he simply nods, smiling apologetically. He makes an okay sign and you don’t know why, but you believe him.

You forget about the probability of him being a scam, a thief, a killer or whoever could hurt you in your sleep. You just focus on the feeling, that one scent invading your olfactory bulb and exciting your axons.

You can’t sleep that night. Jungkook either.

He is thinking about a thousand things. He falls asleep at some point, body as exhausted as his brain. When he wakes up, he finds himself alone in the huge flat along with a sticky note, neat on the fridge.

Suit yourself, I’ll be back by 8 p.m.

Even in the middle of this movie-like situation, he can’t help but look around the rooms, staring at the paintings and furniture. The place is cuddly, calm and warm. He starts writing when he doesn’t find it in himself to question his life choices. The living-room is perfect for his plan and it doesn’t take long for him to fill numerous pages.

Inspiration is creeping and he can’t let it go.

___

*Organ : Refers to a unit of stepped shelving containing hundreds of bottles of raw materials. Arrangement is in a way to assist the perfumer in the creation and compounding of perfume compositions.

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worldwidemochiguy · 4 years

Text

Good Girl (MFEU Yandere! Taehyung)

...

“Ah, I see. You don’t want to be my Princess anymore then, hmm?”

“Taehyung, I-”

“Listen, Y/n. I have been patient with you, even when you were being unreasonable. But this is the last straw. You don’t want to talk to me? You don’t want to see me? Fine. You won’t have to.”

...

MFEU masterlist

General masterlist

Warnings: Yandere behaviour, mental manipulation, mentions of abstaining from eating/self harm through starvation so be v careful if you’re sensitive to that <3

Word Count: 2.4K

a/n: this is a bit dark for the mfeu lol. this is kinda rushed bc i wanted to put something out, also i highkey hate the photo collage thing but c’est la vie i guess lmao

Good Girl

You are having a bad day.

This morning, you woke up to an empty bed, the lingering warmth on Taehyung’s side having already dissipated by the time your sleep-crusted eyes cracked open. He had only left to have a shower, of course, but that didn’t stop the jolt of fear and insecurity you experienced in his absence.

Since the day seemed determined to ruin itself for you, when you tried to cook breakfast to cheer yourself up, you burned the eggs. They were the last eggs in the fridge, and you let out a silent scream of frustration before settling for a bowl of dissatisfying cereal. When Taehyung asked why the two of you weren’t having a proper breakfast like you usually did, you had snapped at him.

Actually snapped at him.

He recoiled, and the widening space between you lapsed into silence as he gave you the opportunity to apologise. You knew you should, but the words refused to come, and your tongue felt as unusable as lead. You kept your eyes on your Kellogg flakes slowly disintegrating into milk as Taehyung stiffly left the table, off to get dressed for work.

Which led you to now, with Taehyung standing expectantly by the front door, frowning at your still pyjama-clad self.

“Baby, you have to get ready. You know how I like to be punctual.”

You petulantly keep your eyes on the pool of tepid milk in your bowl.

“Baby,” Taehyung repeats, impatience creeping into his tone. “You have to get ready now, or I’ll just go without you.”

“Then just go without me.”

Out of the corner of your eye you see Taehyung’s mouth fall open. You know his threat was empty. You have practically never forgone spending the day at work with him, and even in the exceptional circumstance that you do, you always have a reason. Not that you don’t have a reason now: You’re feeling bratty.

“Why are you behaving like this, Princess?” Taehyung sounds shocked, as if he can barely believe what you’ve done. You scowl — you’ve barely done anything, you’ve just been a bit short with him. Given his own changeable mood, he of all people should be able to understand.

“I’m not behaving like anything. I just don’t feel like going with you today. Is that alright? Or will you just take me against my will? It’s not like you haven’t done that before.”

Silence.

Taehyung slams the door as he goes, leaving you to stew in a nauseating mixture of twisted satisfaction and remorse.

You deliberately go to bed before Taehyung comes back, forgoing dinner just to spite him. How can he just expect you to come with him every day, just to sit in an office and wait for when he comes to give you attention? It’s not fair. When the door opens signalling Taehyung’s return, you shut your eyes and breathe deeply, mimicking sleep.

Taehyung pauses in the entry to your bedroom. Part of you hopes that he can tell you aren’t asleep, almost like you want him to know that you’re intentionally faking it just to avoid him. Another, quieter part of you wants to go up to him and hug him, and apologise for being so unreasonable. You ignore the cold fist of guilt forming in your empty stomach.

When Taehyung slips into bed beside you, he gathers you into his arms like he always does, like he wants to be gentle with you, like an apology. You shift away from him, rolling to the other side of the bed with a sleepy murmur of protest. He doesn’t try to touch you again.

You tell yourself you aren’t disappointed.

Getting out of bed after a sleepless night is never pleasant. You know Taehyung didn’t have a restful time either, tossing and turning all through the night, like he couldn’t sleep without feeling your presence, safe in his arms. Sometimes, he would tentatively reach to your side, and you would always shift away, even though your heart tugged uncomfortably beneath your ribs for every added inch between the two of you.

You utter an unspoken apology to his shoulder blades — his back was now turned to you after he eventually gave up and rolled over — and then left to get in the shower.

You stay in there, waiting as the mirrors fog, and your fingers prune, and your skin becomes flushed from the heat — the water is just a touch too hot, verging on painful— but still you wait. As soon as you hear the door slam again, you get out, wrapping yourself in a robe you know is Taehyung’s (but he isn’t here so it doesn’t matter).

You drift into the kitchen, seeing the remnants Taehyung left after a morning without you. A half-drunk coffee cup — he only ever drinks coffee when he’s stressed, or sleep-deprived, or both — no empty plates in sight — he doesn’t eat when he’s worried about something, a habit you’ve been trying to break him out of and yet… look at you, being the very cause of his worry.

Your fingers itch to take the used cup and wash it out, placing it back neatly where it belongs, but you refrain. You can’t let yourself interact with anything Taehyung has touched, lest he view it as a concession. You don’t even know why you’re doing this, but it’s easier to carry on antagonising him than it is to apologise, and explain that you don’t even have a valid reason for upsetting him in the first place.

It’s ironic, you complained about being bored of waiting around for him and doing nothing at his office, but you’re doing the exact same thing at home. You can’t focus on anything, flitting from unfulfilling task to unfulfilling task, trying to keep the guilt and foolish acknowledgements at bay.

You take the time to prepare yourself a meal, but throw it out once you realise you’ve made enough for two, just like you always do nowadays.

The phone Taehyung bought for emergencies, just in case you ever needed him and he wasn’t there, rested temptingly on the counter. Taehyung must have taken it out and put it there for you. God, even when you are being so unreasonable, he still only wants what is best for you.

You don’t call him, even though you want to, even though you regret it, even though the thought of him sitting all alone in his office makes you cry.

Taehyung comes home to a silent apartment. You are sitting on the couch, and you deliberately don’t look up when he enters.

“Princess,”

You don’t look up.

“Baby,”

You reach over to grab the remote, and start idly scrolling through TV channels, despite knowing there’s nothing on that you want to watch.

“Y/n.”

He hasn’t called you that since the day you met him. He never calls you that. You look up, and your suddenly fearful eyes meet Taehyung’s stern, unforgiving gaze.

“Ah, I see. You don’t want to be my Princess anymore then, hmm?” His words are sharp, and they cut deeper than anything you would’ve thought Taehyung would say, even at his angriest.

“Taehyung, I-”

“Listen, Y/n.” He cuts you off with a harsh emphasis on your name, and you fail to suppress a whimper. Why didn’t you just apologise when you had the chance? You never even wanted this in the first place.

“I have been patient with you, even when you were being unreasonable. But this is the last straw. You don’t want to talk to me? You don’t want to see me? Fine. You won’t have to.”

“Taehyung, wait-” You scramble to your feet, frantic as you watch him dump bags of groceries on the floor that you hadn’t previously noticed.

“There’s enough food here to keep you going for a week. You have all you need, you won’t need to leave the apartment.” He informed you tonelessly, ignoring your distraught face.

“Taehyung, why- where are you going?”

“Away. I’ll be gone for a week. That’s what you wanted, right?”

“No! I don’t want you to go! Don’t go!” You wail, coming over to clutch at his overcoat. He softens for a second, and his hands come up to grasp your wrists gently.

“You don’t want me to go?”

A sob crawls up your throat.

“No.”

His grip around your wrists tightens, just as his eyes harden again.

“Too bad. You can’t keep me against my will. You were very clear about the strong moral objections you have to that, after all.”

He slams the door as he leaves just like he did this morning, but this time it’s you on the other side, slumping against it and sliding down to the floor, sobbing as you hear the lock click from the other side. You can’t even go after him. He has just abandoned you.

……

The first day, you try to make a special lunch to cheer yourself up. You make Taehyung’s favourite meal, and part of you expects him to come swanning through the door with a bright, excited grin, grateful that you took the time to make it especially for him. But he doesn’t.

The meal you worked so hard on tastes like ash in your mouth, and you end up going to bed, leaving it practically untouched. You try to sleep, but find that you can’t without the reassuring weight of Taehyung enclosing you, keeping you safe.

By the third day, you’ve given up trying to function like a normal human being. You don’t eat, you don’t sleep, you barely remember to blink. Your throat is painfully dry, but maybe that’s a good thing, because otherwise you know you’d be calling out his name in the vain hope that he might somehow hear it and come back to you.

On the fifth day, the phone rings.

You move with more urgency than you have had all week, scrambling to get to the phone. You fall over furniture in your haste, and don’t even take the time to register the pain because you’re so worried that the ringing will stop and you’ll be alone in silence again. You can’t bear the deathly silence of the apartment without him in it.

“Taehyung,” You try to say when you wrench the phone to your ear so hard you hit the side of your face, but your voice is so hoarse from misuse and mistreatment that it comes out as a croak.

“Baby?” Taehyung’s worried voice crackles over the line, and you sob in relief.

“Taehyung!” You cry, before pouring out an incomprehensible litany of apologies and pleas for him to return. You have surpassed any remaining vestiges of pride. You need him here. Now.

“Whoa, whoa, baby, slow down.” Taehyung tries to soothe you, and you fall silent straight away. You’re desperate to convey how much you need him here right now, but you wouldn’t dare to disobey one of his orders.

“Do you want me to come back?”

“Yes,” You blurt out, tears becoming evident in your voice.

“Are you sure? I thought you were mad at me…” Taehyung trails off in discontent, and you fumble to reassure him.

“No, no, I’m not mad at you. I never was! I was just…stupid. I was being a brat. Please, please, come back, please.”

“Hmm,” Taehyung deliberates, as if weighing the options, “I did say I would be gone for a whole week… do you really need me that badly?”

“Yes!” You wail down the phone, crumpling in on yourself in despair, “I need you! I need you here right now, Tae! Please! Please, I promise I’ll never be bad again. I promise. I’m sorry.”

“You promise you’ll never be bad again? Ever?” Taehyung repeats doubtfully.

“Yes!” You nod fervently, despite knowing he has no way of seeing you. “Yes, I’ll be good from now on. I’ll be perfect, just like you deserve. Will you come back? Please?”

You wait with bated breath as he hesitates. He has to come back, surely you’ve convinced him, surely he’ll realise how much you need-

The phone line cuts off. You pull away to see the phone flash with a damning message:

The caller has hung up. Would you like to call back?

The phone tumbles out of your hand as you collapse to the floor. Oh God, Taehyung isn’t coming back, he doesn’t want you, he doesn’t need you like you need him, you aren’t good enough-

You are so deep into hysteria that you don’t even feel the arms wrapping around you, slowly rocking you back and forth comfortingly. As soon as you register the other person, you instinctively try to fling them off you.

“No! Only Taehyung’s allowed to touch me! Only Taehyung, only Taehyung… only…”

Your words dissolve as reality crashes over you: Taehyung doesn’t want to touch you anymore. He doesn’t want you.

“Well that’s not true, baby. You’re the only thing I’ve ever wanted.” A deep voice utters from behind you. Wait…

You spin around so violently you fall from your squatted position onto your hands and knees. There, crouched on the floor in front of you, is Taehyung. You don’t waste a second, flinging yourself at him. He catches you with ease and crushes your body into his embrace, pressing kisses over any part of you he can reach while you curl into his body weakly, like an animal in search of warmth.

“Oh, baby.” He sighs, beholding your pathetic state. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I had to leave you. I didn’t want to. It was agony every second I was away from you, watching you waste away like that… I never want to do it again. You’ll never make me do this again, right?”

“No, never!” You proclaim fervently as he sweeps you up, “I’ll never do it again. Don’t want you to go. Don’t go. Please.”

He gently pries your curled fist from his sleeve and intertwines his fingers with it, caressing the back of your hand with his thumb.

“I won’t go, baby. I’ll never leave again. As long as you’re a good little girl for me, I’ll never leave you alone, even for a second. Does that sound good, baby?”

You think back over the hellish eternity of the past five days. Loneliness, helplessness, isolation. You never want to feel like that again.

“Yes, Taehyung. Never leave me alone, please. I need you to survive.”

His lips curl into a triumphant smile. The punishment has worked just like he planned.

“Good girl.”

#yandere bts #yandere #yandere taehyung #yandere taehyung x reader #kim taehyung #bts kim taehyung #bts v #taehyung x reader #bts taehyung x reader #yandere kpop #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fanfiction

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hatsukeii · 4 years

Note

Sorry if this is becoming a Tsukki stan blog with all the requests you get for him lmao. All of your precious depressed!Tsukki asks got me thinking. How would he comfort his girlfriend who is having nightmares about him committing suicide after she found him cutting or maybe attempting? I had to break into a friend’s house a couple years ago to stop him from committing suicide and as much as I love him, the thought of that night still haunts me. Thank you for even reading this honestly. 🥺

Okay this was on my list for one of the requests I had to do asap bc it seems like a serious issue that needs attention so I’m putting off the matchups and hcs and doing this one first.

But like it’s still super late I’m sorry-

Plus there’s nothing to be sorry about lol this blog becoming a tsukki stan blog is 100% okay-

I sure as hell hope you’re doing alright, and that your friend is safe, you two seem like amazing people:)

Darling, I’m right here//Depressed!Tsukishima x Reader

Word count: 1600+ (A bit shorter than usual I’m sorry-)

Warnings: Depression, attempted suicide, mild swearing

Summary: You wake up to a reoccurring nightmare.

“Tsukishima?”

“Kei? What are you doing?”

Thank god you had to get to school extra early that day. There Tsukishima was, sitting on the train platform, his feet dangling off the edge. “Kei?” He stayed silent, ignoring you as a bright light headed towards his direction. You knew he was depressed, but you sure as hell didn’t think he would actually try to commit suicide. Your eyes widened as you watched his hands push himself off the platform, landing onto the train tracks. You lifted your leg, desperate to rush over and pull him back up, but it was as if your feet were bolted to the ground, refusing to move. “COME ON! MOVE!” The train was now nearing him, it was guaranteed that it would hit him if he didn’t get out in the next three seconds. You tried to scream, tears flowing freely down your face, but nothing came out. You felt your throat burning, however all that was produced from your mouth were inaudible wheezes and whimpers. Your legs wouldn’t cooperate with you however hard you tried, refusing to leave the cold ground. Your fists were clenched so tight crescent shaped marks etched themselves into your palm. Everything went into slow motion as the train came into sight. Tsukishima sent you one last glance, smiling softly, before everything was painted red and his body was gone. Time seemed to go straight back to normal right afterwards. At the same moment, your legs decided to detach themselves from the ground, and your voice came back almost instantly. “KEI? KEI NO!” You bolted to the platform, hoping to find something, anything, that could convince you this was fake. The air around you was thick, the smell of blood wafting into your nose as you stare at the train tracks in horror. “Why? Why couldn’t I save you just now?” Your heart was thumping furiously, blocking all foreign noise out as you squeezed your eyes shut. You don’t even know what happened, but the second you opened up your eyes, you were in the hall at school, students crowding around your locker. “Wait, you were there when he did it?” “Why didn’t you save him?” “How could you just let him jump off?” The questions never stopped coming. You slammed your hands over your ears, frantically trying to shut out the haunting voices. “No, nononononono stop, please! Please, I couldn’t do anything I couldn’t save him!”

“I COULDN’T SAVE YOU!”

You gasped, hitting your head on the coffee table as you bolted upwards, cold sweat dripping off your forehead as you panted. Tear stains were evident on your face, although you swear you didn’t know you were crying. Your hair was a disheveled mess, strands of baby hair sticking out of your head. Grabbing your sheets in one hand and your chest in the other, you continued to pant heavily, your mind racing in between your reoccurring nightmare and reality. Why was it that again? That was at least a year ago, and yet it still haunted you to this day. You were quick enough to grab Tsukishima from the platform during his attempt, but was that nightmare going to happen if you couldn’t pull him back to safety in time? Would he have died just like that, with no one knowing until a day later? Just the thought of the possibility made you shudder. Your hands made their way next to you, where your boyfriend was comfortably sleeping. Scrambling for his chest, you heaved a heavy sigh when you felt his steady heartbeat on your palm, breathing along to the beats on his chest. You gulped down your saliva, gripping his shirt tightly, as if you were too afraid to even let go for a second. You weren’t going to let him go ever again. Not when he obviously needed support and affection. You looked around Hinata’s living room. The movie from an hour ago was still on, however all the boys were already fast asleep. Kageyama was peacefully snoring away on the couch, Hinata was drooling all over his pillow, Nishinoya was grumbling in his sleep, Tanaka was making weird punching motions, and Yamaguchi stirred a little bit, his eyes squeezing shut. You pretended to lay down again, not wanting to concern the freckled boy with your sudden outburst. His body eventually went limp again as he continued to snore softly. Seeing that the coast was clear, you sat back up, trying to calm yourself down for the third time this week. Your hand was still grabbing onto the blond’s shirt, feeling the soft fabric in between your fingers.

“(Y...Y/N)?”

You froze.

Shit. You forgot that Tsukishima was a light sleeper.

Feeling him shift underneath your hand, you instantly let go of his shirt, gripping onto the mattress Hinata gave you two instead. The mattress dipped a bit, Tsukishima starting to carefully sit up. His hair was messier than usual, despite it being relatively short. Rubbing his eyes, he gave your hunched over figure a glance, completely confused. “(Y/N), what are you doing up so late?” Rapidly turning around, your hand landed on his chest, feeling for his heartbeat. Next, it went up to cup his cheeks, then his arms as your eyes took in his entire body frantically. Finally, your arms wrapped around his neck, burying yourself in his presence. Awkwardly, he returned the embrace by patting your back with one hand, the other arm wrapping around your waist. Your mind was on the verge of insanity. His attempt at suicide was still overwhelming to you, even if it’s already been an entire year. Most people would ask why you haven’t moved on, but truth be told, you couldn’t. Tsukishima was still depressed, he could very well try doing it again, maybe this time in an even more subtle way. In a way where not even you can stop him. You were scared. Anxious. Terrified. Just the thought of him leaving you forever was too much to bear, and brought you to tears. You would have frequent nightmares about him killing himself in various ways. Pills, hanging, jumping off a roof, and the worst of them all, jumping into the train tracks. His initial attempt. And every single time, you wouldn’t be able to save him. You would be stuck to the floor, hopelessly draining yourself of your energy as you try to scream. “I couldn’t save you, what? Why? How are you here? I thought you jumped in? This isn’t a dream right?”

That was when it struck Tsukishima. Everything was clear as day now. The reason why you came to school sleep deprived every day. Why you constantly fell asleep in class. Why you were always last online at three in the morning. “Why did you never tell me about this?” He could feel the wetness of your tears as you forced your face into his neck more. “Didn’t want you t-to worry more than you already do. I’m gonna go crazy if I see another c-cut on that beautiful skin of yours.” His hand stopped, resting in the small of your back. “(Y/N)...” He didn’t think his self harming tendencies and his suicide attempt would affect you this much. He never thought anyone really cared. However when you hauled him home and screamed at him after catching him trying to jump into the train tracks, that ignited something in him. He now had someone he had to- no. Wanted to protect. One person cared enough to save him, and that was all it took for him to realise a bit of his self worth. He would do anything to keep you happy and safe. One of your first requests was for him to stop cutting. He had stopped scattering his skin with cuts, despite his crippling depression. He had done it just for you, and it felt amazing. You usually just waved him off with a casual “Insomnia’s a bitch” whenever he asked about the dark eye bags, or the questionable time you were last online. Never did the thought that you were still traumatised from events that happened over a year ago pass his mind. He should’ve known that this would affect you badly. How could he have been so selfish? Disregarding your emotions as he tried to end his life. He felt terrible. He was pissed at himself. For being so selfish and foolish.

He heaved a heavy sigh, mentally punching his nuts. Moving his hand from your back, he caressed your head tenderly, as if you were a glass statue that would break with the tiniest push. You sobbed even harder, squeezing him tight. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” His eyes fluttered shut as he held onto your trembling figure, peppering your head with tiny kisses in an attempt to comfort you. You smelled like shampoo and roses. He couldn’t help but take a sniff. You were the sole reason he was still here, living and breathing as he plummeted through his hole called life. Without you, he would’ve been dead ages ago. You were the guiding light in his life, reminding him about everything he should live for. Everything he should be happy for. Taking your head off his neck, you look straight at him with teary eyes. “You’re here right? This is real?” His heart shattered at the sight. His beautiful, amazing, precious, perfect girlfriend, was crying because of him. He pushed your head back into his shoulder, giving you the biggest hug as he held his grip on you tightly.

“Darling, I’m right here. I’m always gonna be here.”

Ahhhh I hope you liked it even though it’s a lot shorter than what I usually write🥺👉👈💖💕

Tags: @ewfilthymundane @izzyphantomgamer @sunshines-and-tatertots @tiger1719 @trashcanweeb @inlwlevi @itmekisuu @just-another-bored-writer @justachillgirl @burnt-tomato @for-ests @bokutokoutarou @kaylacinderella @random-fandomlover @xonfusedsoul @estherwritess @macaronnv @talks-a-lot-of-stuff @agentvicinity @sakusasgarbage @tiredgr3mlin @emsvegetables @fullmetalfangirl21 @poppirocks @mariechan123 @tokyoghoose

Dm or comment if you wanna be included in the taglist or if I forgot to tag you!

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu tsukki #hq #hq x reader #hq scenario #hq images #hq tsukki #tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #depressed tsukishima #tsukishima imagine #angst #lmao i wrote this in class #have fun reading it

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drabbles-of-writing · 4 years

Text

The Girl in Red

This is part of my Four Years AU

AO3

Masterpost

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Just because Lilith lived at the Owl House now didn’t mean that she had to give up on everything.

A big one of those things was Amity Blight.

It had taken a little while to settle in, but the young witches training would not stop simply because Lilith lived elsewhere now. And barely had any magic left.

Alright, so maybe there would be a few complications.

“What’s got you so worked up?” Eda wondered, poking her head in from the kitchen as Lilith gathered as many books on magic she could find.

And though she still didn’t understand it, she had stashed a few of Luz’s spare glyphs into them as well.

“I’m to meet my p rotégé soon.” Lilith said, fumbling as a glyph fell out of one of her pockets. “I arranged to meet her in the woods for some...outdoor training.” She said, clearly unsure of her own words.

“You mean that Blight kid?” Eda raised a brow. “You still train her?”

“Blight?”

Luz suddenly appeared in the doorway, looking around like she expected to see something exciting.

“Do you mean Amity?”

“Of course I do. I still train her.” Lilith snorted.

“Oh, oh! You could train her here!” Luz suggested, looking positively delighted at the thought. “We could train together! Eda’s still teaching me about wild magic, even if she can’t use it anymore.”

“My teaching method is far different than whatever Edalyn has been showing you.” Lilith said, giving Eda a side-eye.

“Yeah, and it works!” Eda stuck out her tongue.

“We could learn from each other,” Luz said, pacing the room in that way she did when she had too much pent-up energy. “It could be a fun training session! Please, please can Amity train here?” Luz begged, facing the witch and clasping her hands together.

“I’m not so sure…” Lilith hesitated.

Luz gave her puppy-dog eyes as she begged, and Lilith had to admit, she was good at it. She couldn’t tell if it came naturally or if Eda taught her that. Probably Eda.

“...very well,” Lilith sighed, shoulders sagging.

"WOO!” Luz pumped a fist in the air. “Training with Amity! Oh, I need to grab my glyphs!” She exclaimed, racing out of the living room and up the stairs.

“Don’t break anything!” Eda warned right before a loud thump and a faint ‘I’m okay!’ could be heard.

“I’ll have to check with Amity herself,” Lilith sighed, pulling out her scroll. “Though I take it she’s been here before?”

“Oh, yeah, the kid visited twice.” Eda nodded. “Once when she erased, like, all of some kids' memories and the other time was when she busted her foot about a week ago.”

“She erased someone's memory?” Lilith gasped, almost dropping her scroll.

“Kid said it was an accident and fixed it up, no big deal.” Eda shrugged casually. “Guess there are some things your protégé doesn’t tell you, eh?”

“Don’t patronize me.” Lilith grumbled. “How she became friends with your apprentice of all people, I’ll never know.”

“Mm, I have a few guesses.” Eda said, glancing off.

Training Amity with Luz and Eda was...a challenge.

For one thing, the way Eda taught Luz was rather...barbaric. Luz didn’t seem super thrilled about it either, though she did as Eda told. Amity was very confused at their antics, and possibly a little concerned.

Luz suggested Amity try it once, and that’s when the lesson first fell apart.

Luz and Amity quickly divulged into a mock-war of the two throwing mushrooms and pine needles at each other. To Eda’s credit, she tried to gain some sense of calm.

For the first twenty seconds.

She began egging Luz on soon after, doing nothing but encouraging the two.

Lilith gave up on the lesson for the day and went inside to make some tea. Amity stuck around for a few hours after the fact, and Lilith mentally noted how red she seemed every now and again.

The next lesson was done inside the Owl House. Eda had (grudgingly) allowed Lilith to inform the girls of how to cast larger illusion spells. Of course, she didn’t know how Luz was going to accomplish it, but the human insisted on listening all the same.

Multiple times Lilith would turn around and find the girls either whispering to each other, trying to stifle giggles, or staring at whatever Hooty or King were doing. Which ranged from eating bugs off the floor to getting stuck in a cardboard box.

Lilith swore she aged at least ten years in that house.

“I think we should stop the double training,” Lilith mentioned to her sister one day. It was while she was on Hooty-cleaning duty. Normally she wouldn’t, but Eda had the high ground. Also known as; bringing up the curse that still haunted them both.

“What? Why?” Eda inquired, leaning in the doorway as Lilith scrubbed a mop just above one of the first-story windows.

“Amity can’t pay attention with that human around.” Lilith said, snapping angrily at Hooty as he tried to come over and ‘help out.’ “She’s done nothing but cause trouble.”

“Maybe you should change up your teaching, then.” Eda said simply. “You’re teaching Amity the regular type of magic while Luz and I are teaching each other about wild and glyph magic. Those two don’t exactly mix well.”

“Amity is in the abomination track, I am not teaching her wild magic to become a criminal like you.” Lilith growled. “I’m happy teaching her other forms of magic, but that’s just in case she--”

“What? Joins the Emperor’s Coven?” Eda cut in, crossing her arms. “Lily, do you seriously want her going to that place after all that’s happened?”

Lilith opened her mouth to argue before slowly closing it again.

“The Emperor tricked you, kidnapped me, tried to kill Luz, and is apparently trying to find a way to the human world. And you want her to join?” Eda demanded with a glare.

“...it’s what she always wanted.” Lilith said quietly, setting down the mop. “She was always so excited to be able to learn other types of magic…”

Eda relaxed with a sigh and walked over, placing a hand on her sisters shoulder and gaining her attention.

“Well, I have a feeling she isn’t so keen on it now.” Eda said simply. “She’s still friends with Luz, you know. Besides, have you asked her what she wants to do now?”

Lilith looked away, almost mad at the shame she felt.

“And anyway, I think she’s having fun.” Eda said, turning her head to look through the window of the Owl House.

Lilith looked up as well, seeing Luz and Amity messing around with King, who was still a little angry at Amity for a previous grievance involving a cupcake. Amity was smiling and laughing as Luz was tackled by King and wrestled on the floor with him.

Lilith couldn’t name any recent time she’d seen the young witch so happy. Not since the last covention.

“And having fun is the important part.” Eda said, patting Lilith on the back.

“Well, if the great and powerful Eda says so.” Lilith rolled her eyes.

“I do say so.” Eda grinned. “Now get back to work! I have a house that needs to be cleaned.”

In the second month, training came to a screeching halt.

In that time, Luz had found zero ways to make it back home, like she thought she would.

As soon as September first had rolled around, Luz had been near inconsolable. The poor girl was frantic, sporadic, sleep-deprived, and unconsciously snapping at everyone the longer the minutes ticked by.

Amity was worried sick. Almost literally.

And Lilith would admit, she was concerned for the human as well. Luz, while definitely as chaotic as Eda, was a sweet, well-meaning kid. She was happy to work with and train by Lilith, and was full of life and excitement, even after all she had done.

To see her so panicked and on the verge of tears made her heart tear.

For nearly three months there was an almost non-stop search. Lilith swore they turned the whole town upside down looking for any clues on how to make a portal to the human realm.

They couldn’t find anything.

Luz had calmed in those three months, but not for the better. She was laying about, unmotivated, and in a general slump.

Lilith remembered when she was like that. Back when she had first cursed Eda, and had to live knowing what she had done had all been for nothing.

She did her best to comfort the human, and in a few weeks, she was getting better. Amity and their other friends all helped cheer up Luz, too. And slowly, the old Luz they knew was coming back.

As did the constant redness from Amity.

Lilith had noticed Amity’s red face during the first two months of training with Luz. At first she thought it was the heat, the circumstances, or that she was just sick.

But, no. Amity was fine...presumably.

It had vanished during the close-to three months of worrying over Luz, but once she started to come back, it arose once more.

Lilith would wander into the living room while Amity was visiting and she’d find the two of them sitting on the couch, talking about unimportant things. Luz would be leaning against Amity in some fashion, or just draped across her lap a couple of times.

Each time she’d find a faint heat in Amity’s cheeks. But as soon as Amity noticed her mentor had arrived, she’d light up and grow stiff.

At first, Lilith thought it was because Amity thought she was being caught doing something wrong, like not training. So Lilith made sure to smile and nod at her p rotégé before continuing with whatever she was doing.

It didn’t help. And in some cases, it appeared to make things worse.

Lilith would also note that Amity was incredibly distracted by the human, particularly when she was focusing on magic or doing something outrageous.

Amity would stare at Luz for quite a while if gone uninterrupted. To the point where she would fumble or crash into things if she was busy doing something beforehand. Quite a few items had been broken that way, and even Eda was getting a little annoyed.

Once, on a hot day, Amity had tied up all of her hair and in turn showed off her undercut. Luz had noticed and complimented the young witch on it. Mentioning how she had wanted to get one, too.

Lilith almost thought Amity had accidentally eaten a bloodshroom by how fast the Red™ had come to her cheeks.

During one of their training sessions, Amity had been practicing her natural fire magic. She had both of her hands in front of her with a small magenta flame. Luz had been sitting on the floor and awed at the sight.

When Amity turned to face her, Luz had sat up on her knees, face illuminated by the glow, and acted like she had seen the most incredible magic in the Boiling Isles. Which was saying something, for someone who had faced Emperor Belos.

Amity’s fire had ignited into a very sudden flame, sprouting upwards and nearly nicking her in the nose, causing a mild panic among the house when she set the carpet ablaze. Which Eda later made her pay for.

Any form of physical contact seemed to bring a flush to Amity’s face. She’d avert her eyes, stutter, sweat. The works.

Usually not all at once, but it was still noticeable. Especially for such a well-coordinated person as Amity.

After weeks of silently observing, Lilith decided it could go on no longer. Amity appeared to be in distress, and Lilith was not about to leave her student high and dry when she could do something about it.

So, she came up with theories.

Her first theory was that Luz was warmer than a regular witch, and that’s why Amity looked so red. There wasn’t much information on human biology, so it’s not like it was out of the realm of possibility.

But that theory was shot down almost immediately. Lilith had been around Luz before, and she was no warmer than any other witch. Maybe Amity was extra sensitive? Allergic to humans, maybe?

Her second theory was that Amity simply didn’t know how to react to Luz. Sure, the two were friends, but Lilith had heard about Amity’s horror-story ‘friends.’ Perhaps she just didn’t know how to deal with having a real friend like Luz.

That theory was torn when she’d watched Amity’s interactions with her other two friends, Willow and Gus. She didn’t act nearly the same way with either of them as she did Luz. And while they definitely weren’t as eccentric as Luz, she figured Amity would’ve shown some similar signs.

Her third theory worried her greatly.

A curse.

Granted, not one nearly as severe as the one she’d given Eda, but a curse nonetheless. Perhaps one of her old friends had cursed her to be distracted or embarrass herself in front of Luz. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.

Though she felt like Amity would’ve talked to her if she was concerned about such a thing. She decided to put a pin in that idea.

Her fourth theory was one that confused her, and yet almost seemed to make sense.

Amity was angry at Luz.

The idea seemed preposterous. Amity didn’t hate Luz. She didn’t even dislike Luz. They were best friends, were they not?

Yet, all the signs pointed to the opposite. Amity was known to go as red as a tomato when angry, it made sense. Amity was always going red when Luz was around, and would look anywhere but at her when it was bad enough.

The constant watching, the aversiveness to sudden touch, the stuttering, the ranting she’d hear Amity go off on now and again, the seeming unease.

Amity was furious at Luz. Or at the very least, uncomfortable with her being around.

It made no sense and so much at the same time.

She wondered if maybe the anger was caused by a curse, but that couldn’t be it. Amity would notice then. She must not have forgiven Luz for the humiliation at the covention and the library. That had to be it.

Right?

With this theory in mind, Lilith attempted to keep Amity as far from Luz as possible. Taking her to the marketplace, training in different areas around Bonesborough, instructing Hooty to be a little more aggressive in guarding, things like that.

Amity transitioned from politely confused, to annoyed, to...well, drained.

Luz made a similar transition. She would always wonder aloud where Amity was, to asking Lilith to train back at the Owl House, to the occasional moping on the couch when Lilith left for training.

It seemed keeping them apart had only made things worse. And Lilith hated seeing either of the girls down.

She suddenly went right back to training at the Owl House again, and the cycle resumed. Maybe even stronger this time.

Lilith was confused, worried, and perhaps a little desperate. What, in the name of the Titan himself, could be the problem?

She decided she needed help, as much as she hated to admit it. And she knew just who to ask.

“Edalyn?” Lilith said, looking up the stairs to where her sister was retreating to her room for the night. “May I speak with you?”

“Uh, sure?” Eda blinked, stepping back as Lilith made her way up the steps and stood across from her in the hallway. “What is it?”

“I’m...worried,” Lilith admitted. “About Amity.”

“Is it her parents?” Eda asked quietly, face softening.

“No, no, thank goodness it’s not.” Lilith shook her head. “I meant...about her and Luz.”

Eda stared at her owlishly for a moment. Lilith had to stop herself from curling her lip at her own accidental pun.

“About time you noticed!” Eda snorted before quickly quieting herself down. She really didn’t want to wake anyone in the house.

“You knew?” Lilith gaped.

“Course I did. That kid of yours isn’t exactly subtle.” Eda chuckled. “It’s nothing to be worried about. Luz is a bit oblivious, but I’m sure she’ll catch on eventually. She’s still worried about herself.”

“Nothing to worry about?” Lilith shook her head in disbelief. “How can it be nothing to worry about? It’s interfering with Amity’s training!”

“So? I think the kids got something good going, if you ask me.” Eda shrugged. “Why are you so worked up about this?”

“Because I care about the well-being of my apprentice!” Lilith hissed quietly. “How can you let the two of them continue to be around each other when it’s so obviously causing Amity distress?”

Eda frowned and opened her mouth to retort before pausing. She appeared thoughtful before looking Lilith up and down.

“Just to make sure we’re on the same page; what do you think is going on?”

“What?” Lilith flicked her pointed ears down. “Amity is annoyed by Luz, isn’t she?” She said, tilting her head. “I mean, I didn’t think it could be true, but with all the evidence--”

Eda let out a loud, vaugly distressing, wheeze.

The Owl Lady covered her mouth with her hand and tried to smother her laughs, wheezing all the way so as to not disturb any of the other residents who were fast-asleep.

“What’s so funny?” Lilith demanded, taken aback.

“You think Amity doesn’t like Luz?” Eda whisper-laughed. “Are you dense?”

“Wha--no! I’m concerned!” Lilith snapped, remembering at the last second to keep her voice down. “What are you on about?”

“Lily, you poor, poor moron,” Eda heavily dropped a hand on her shoulder and looked up, still hunched over from her laughing fit.

“That Blight girl has a crush on Luz.”

Lilith blinked, once, twice. She stared at Eda as the gears in her head slowly began to turn and shift.

“...wait, really?”

Eda had to smother another laugh, visibly shaking with the effort.

“I’m serious!” Lilith whispered. “A crush? Is that what this is?”

“Obviously! Kids head-over-staff!” Eda stood up, leaning against the wall as she raised a hand near her chest to smother any further laughs should they come up.

“Honestly, Lily. I knew you weren’t the smartest tool in the shed, but this is ridiculous.” Eda teased. “I thought after years of watching me fall for those kids in Hexside you would’ve been able to recognize this.”

“You were different!” Lilith huffed, crossing her arms and turning her body away slightly.

“You would go out of your way to show-off. You’d do all you could to be near them while laughing at any stupid jokes they made and had the most absurd face when you’d see them across the--”

Lilith paused, thinking over what she said as the smile on Eda’s face grew.

“Wait... wait,”

Eda covered her mouth again and wheezed, turning her head away to avoid laughing harder at the shocked face Lilith was sporting right now.

"See-see my...my point?” Eda wheezed out.

“Great Titan, you’re right. As much as I hate to admit it.” Lilith muttered. “And I tried to get them apart.”

“Yeah, not your smartest move.” Eda giggled. “Still think it’s going to interfere?”

“Of course it is. But I’m not going to stop it.” Lilith said simply. “What do you take me for?”

“A woman who curses her own little sister while she’s asleep?”

Lilith gave Eda a deadpan stare. Eda returned it with a smug one of her own.

“Fair, but still.” Lilith relented. “I’m honestly surprised Amity could get so flustered over, no offence, a human.”

“I was surprised, too.” Eda agreed. “But, honestly? I think it works.”

“What makes you say that?” Lilith wondered.

Eda waved her hand and drew Lilith further down the hallway. She stopped outside of Luz’s room and gestured for her sister to be quiet.

Slowly, Eda cracked open the door and peered inside before stepping back to let Lilith see for herself.

Luz and Amity were leaning upright against the back wall, both of them asleep. A discarded The Good Witch Azura book laying in Amity’s lap.

Luz’s head was resting in the crook of Amity’s neck, mouth half-open.

Amity was laying her head across Luz’s, looking far more peaceful.

They each had a hand resting beside them. Amity’s fingers were brushing Luz’s, having looked like she was going to hold her hand before either chickening out or falling asleep.

“See what I mean?” Eda whispered gleefully as Lilith stepped back and quietly shut the door.

“Alright, yeah, you have a point.” Lilith admitted. “I have a lot to make up for,” She mumbled.

“Eh, you can start now.” Eda shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time you messed up.”

Lilith made sure her sister saw the irritated face she gave her.

“Now go to sleep already before we accidentally wake up Hooty. He’ll never shut up if we--”

“Did someone say Hooty?”

“There he is,”

Lilith sat on the couch in the living room, reading a book on glyph-magic. It was early morning, and the rest of the household had yet to rise after the rude awakening from Hooty last night.

Lilith knew that whenever Amity stayed overnight at the Owl House, she would either go home early or very late in the day, depending on if she had informed her parents beforehand.

This time, she had forgotten to tell them.

Lilith wasn’t surprised when she heard the soft footsteps of Amity hurriedly walking down the stairs.

Lilith lowered her book for a moment and turned towards the doorway as Amity stepped through, gazing around nervously. She froze when she saw Lilith, like a child caught stealing from the cookie jar.

“So,” Lilith stared awkwardly, sharply closing her book. “Luz, huh?”

Neither of them moved, or spoke, for a good few moments.

“Seriously?” Amity groaned, giving Lilith an exhausted stare. “I didn’t even do anything yet!”

“This happens that often?”

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