◇ 14. “Shut up, okay? I’m getting you out of here. We’re going home.”
◇ Baekhyun x reader
Baekhyun was furious. No, actually, furious was an understatement. He was livid. He was ready to tear someone’s head off - and trust me, that would be way too easy for him.
He can hear his brothers’ footsteps behind him as he storms towards the house that you had been taken to, eyes pitch black, fangs drawing blood against his bottom lip and fists clenched. The vampires who did this weren’t going to live to see tomorrow - and that was if they were lucky.
He slams the heavy wooden doors of the mansion open - he realizes that they had been bound by some wood to prevent him from getting to them, and Baekhyun almost laughs at the weak attempt to prevent him from finding his mate.
The foyer is empty but Baekhyun can hear the air pumping through the vampires’ lungs, and he knows exactly where to go; he strides around the ground staircase to the door behind them that led to the ballroom, and the marble doors to that room are too flung open in his anger.
“Where is she?” His voice sounds more animal than human, echoing throughout the vast room and making every one of the pieces of scum that had stolen you shiver in their shoes, lunging forward and wrapping his hand around the neck of the who he knows is the leader, pinning him to the wall behind him. “Tell me what you did to her, you disgusting excuse for a vampire.”
The man chokes, clawing at Baekhyun’s hand, but Baekhyun’s too far gone in fury to feel any pain. He can hear his brothers restraining the other men in the room, no doubt planning to place them in the Courtyard for the rest of eternity.
The man in Baekhyun’s grasp suddenly wheezes - and Baekhyun realises that the animal is laughing - he must realize that there’s no hope for him - but before he can pull his arm from his body, the man spits out, “I’d say it’s too late for your human. She can’t take the pain she’s in. Top floor, east wing.”
Once Baekhyun realises that the man had hurt you, he visibly trembles with anger - but a part of him reminds you that you’re hurt, and waiting for him, so he decides to fling the man towards one of his brothers. “Keep him for me. The Courtyard will look like heaven in comparison to what I have planned.”
And he doesn’t spend anymore time conversing with the low-lives, running out of the ballroom at the speed of light and up to the top floor. As he nears, he can start to hear you; your heartbeat is fast, your breaths are erratic and he can smell something metallic: blood.
He breaks down the door that he can hear you behind, scanning the room quickly for any sight of you, and there you are, sprawled out onto the floor, red surrounding you and your face scrunched up in pain.
“My love,” Baekhyun inhales sharply at your condition, most of his anger seeping away at the mere sight of you as he falls to the ground beside you, moving you carefully so that your head lays in his lap. “You’re okay, my love.”
“Bae - Baekhyun,” you whimper, voice ridden with tears and unusually quiet, the gash in your chest impossible to not look at, “I-it hurts, Baekhyun…”
He feels tears prick at his own eyes as he sees how in pain you are, running a hand over your hair as he checks your condition. If he gave you his blood while your injury was too bad, you could die anyway - but you’d come back as a vampire. If he brought you home, you could get a potion that would help, but that could take too long.
“Am I… am I gonna die, Baek?” Your voice breaks, and your eyes screw shut. Baekhyun shakes his head desperately, grasping your face gently in his hands. “It hurts so badly…”
“Shut up, okay? I’m getting you out of here. We’re going home,” he chants over and over again, deciding to throw thought to the wind, sinking his fangs into the delicate skin of his wrist and holding it to your lips.
He sighs in relief as he sees your injury start to heal, but before you can have too much, he has to stop you from drinking. Your injury is still there, but it’s not fatal anymore and Baekhyun can bring you home to get the right potion.
“There, there,” he soothes gently as he scoops you into his arms, holding you tight as you both disappear into a swirl of black smoke, “We’re going home, my love. I won’t let you go again.”
Et quand je me regarde dans le miroir j’y vois un mec bizarre
Pâle, translucide, tellement livide
A faire sourire un génocide
Docteur, je rigole pas
Il faut que vous fassiez quelque chose pour moi
Prenez un marteau et pétez-moi les doigts je sais pas
Parce que là je peux vraiment plus
En vérité on est perdus, désœuvrés, désabusés
Seuls comme des animaux blessés
On est tristes et nos cœurs saignent
Mais on se cache derrière nos grandes gueules et nos mots durs
Entre nous on s’appelle « mec », « meuf », « bâtard », « baltringue », « bitch », « gouinasse », « connard » …
Parce que sans le vouloir, les autres sont un combat permanent.
Fauve, sainte anne. (quand tu retournes à la base, avec kané cette musique, elle m'a inspiré.)
The Weasley twins were well known throughout Hogwarts for
their trickery. Most people found it amusing – until it happened to them. It
was like Peeves had doubled and grew a shock of red hair, slipping sickening
chocolates among sweets, swapping weakened chair legs for the sturdy ones,
anything and everything to piss as many people off as they could. Y/N,
regrettably, was basically a practice dummy for most of their stunts. The twins
adored poking and prodding at Y/N because it was easy to get a rise from her.
She could transition from cheerful to livid within seconds.
But there was some other reason that the pranks always made
Y/N frustrated. In many ways, Y/N wished to be treated the opposite. No matter
how far she pushed it from her mind, deep down there was a part of her that
wanted to be spoiled. Not by the both of them. Just Fred Weasley.
Unfortunately, he was usually the mastermind of the operation instead.
“YOU GITS!” Y/N screeched as a bucket of ice water cascaded
over her figure.
Cackling emanated from the far end of the hallway. Y/N
flipped her wet y/h/c hair over the back of her head, spitting out water. As
the clocktower chimed that classes had started, Y/N groaned externally, made a
rude gesture at her attackers, and squelched down the hall to Potions. She was
about as thrilled with being late as Snape was. When she entered the dungeons,
all heads turned to look at her.
“Ah, so nice of you to finally join us.” Professor Snape
“Yeah, silly me. Thought it was the proper moment for a
swim.” Y/N spat back sarcastically.
“The attitude and lack of punctuality will cost you house
points.” Snape retorted firmly. Y/N nodded, creating a trail of puddles from
the doorframe to her chair.
Her partner looked appalled at the mess. Y/N grit her teeth
and listened to Snape’s lecture.
“As I was saying, today we will be starting a Draining
Drought.” He said. “Since you were tardy, would you like to explain to us what
a Draining Drought does, Miss. Y/L/N?”
“Haven’t the foggiest.” Y/N said grimly. Snape announced
that even more house points had been lost due to her lack of knowledge.
“A Draining Drought,” He continued. “Rids the user of all
feelings for a brief period of time.”
“A swift kick to the gentlemen would do the same to the
Weasley twins.” She grumbled under her breath. Snape finished his lecture and
announced for them to prepare their materials.
“The Weasley twins did this to you?” Romilda Vane, her
partner, inquired harshly. “I thought that you were involved with one of them –
the loud one – eh, I think his name is Fred?”
Y/N scoffed loudly, causing a drip of water to drop from her
nose. She couldn’t even fathom having to wake up to that prat every morning.
“If by involved you mean dragged kicking and screaming into
their little schemes.” Y/N snapped. Romilda shrugged, and set off to gather
During her absence, Y/N actually began to ponder that idea.
Every morning, waking up to Fred Weasley by her side. He probably was quite
warm, and every time that he passed her by a whiff of fresh linens and cocoa
powder flew off of his collar and right into her nose. The smell wasn’t revolting, she supposed – but waking up
next to Fred Weasley? That was more than an absurd thought. It was brushed from
Y/N’s mind immediately.
“God, I think I would hate a Draining Drought.” Romilda
explained, setting down vials of materials. “Not being able to feel emotions
for a while, how awful.”
“Yeah.” Y/N said, lost in thought. “How… awful…”
Come lunchtime, Y/N had squeezed most of the water from her
robes and only felt a bit damp. She slammed her books on the table, and
instantly stormed over to the Gryffindor side of the hall. George had charmed a
Howler Neville received to spout out dirty words, and the whole group was
having a hearty laugh. Removing her tie, which was still fairly soaking, Y/N
walked up behind Fred and gave him a good slap across the neck. Water squirted
“Oi, what’s your bloody problem?!” Fred shouted, whipping
his head around.
“My bloody problem?!”
Y/N repeated, astounded. “From the day I entered into this world it’s been you,
Frederick. Thanks for making me look like a bloody fool in potions class.”
She smacked him over the head once more with the tie, and
the whole table erupted into laughter. Fred let out a grumble, and flung a hand
around Y/N’s arm, holding her still while he wrenched the weapon from her hand.
Y/N was right about him being warm. The skin on skin contact made her heartbeat
pick up like it had just received a glass of water during a hot day. Swallowing
hard, she tried to focus her mind back onto the issue at hand.
“You’re just too easy!” Fred exclaimed, throwing the tie
across the table so she couldn’t reach for it.
That comment was a pickaxe to her good mood. It wasn’t
something that most women enjoyed hearing, and Y/N shrugged it off to his usual
rude behavior, but a cloud lingered over her heart. She scowled, deeply.
“I have half a mind to skin the both of you and make a new
set of robes, seeing as these will be drying all weekend!” She shouted, eyes
darting from George to Fred.
“Oi, Y/N.” Lee Jordan sneered. “If you want to take off Fred’s
clothes so bad, why don’t you just say so?”
Y/N grew slightly pinkish, and the table filled the hall with
chortling once again.
“You’re really not worth the effort.” She scoffed, turning
on her heel and exiting once more.
Lee was just being an idiot – they all were. There was
nothing but rivalry between Fred and herself. Right? That’s what she had told
her heart, over and over again. Reclaiming her seat at her house table, she
found herself very perplexed. Her face grew hot in irritation, and she let out
a lengthy sigh. Y/N knew why the pranking bothered her so much. She knew the
reason behind her heart rising and falling with his statements. She wanted him to pay attention to her. Y/N
wanted the cuddling at night, basking in his warmth, and waking up to a brief
kiss on the forehead. She wanted to be his, and only his. And it made her
furious. She refused to think on it for another second.
Y/N scooped up her books and stuck an empty goblet in her
robes, trailing out of the Great Hall indignantly. Her eyes looked forward. Her
head was held high. They’d never see her break – that was her intention. She
crept down to the dungeons and pulled open the door confidently, knowing that
Professor Snape was out on his break. No one ever dared to steal his things, so
he never locked the door properly.
“Pity.” Y/N said,
without emotion. She unlocked the door
with a simple charm, and was about to reach for the handle when she heard
Y/N thought for a split second that she heard a muffled
voice, but when she turned around, the hall was as empty as could be. She slapped
a palm to her forehead. It had sounded almost like him.
“The sooner this numpty is out of my head, the better.” She
grumbled, cursing herself for wasting more of her time on him.
Y/N snaked through the Potions classroom, glancing around
once more before heading into the storage room. The Gryffindors had started
their potions two weeks ahead, and Y/N knew that Hermione’s would be brewed to
perfection. Lighting the tip of her wand, she scanned the cauldrons for ‘Granger’.
The third row up, second from the last cauldron had the right label. A dull,
charcoal gray pot sat stewing, holding a thin, mauve liquid. It didn’t look
particularly tasty, but Y/N was desperate.
Retracting the empty goblet, she dipped it into the bubbling
pot. She scrunched her nose. Fumbling with the lid to the cauldron once more,
Y/N set her wand on the shelf, using both hands to bring the chalice to her lips.
She tipped her head back in anticipation, and the potion slipped closer to her
mouth. She had almost taken the first sip when a voice called out.
“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?!”
Y/N dropped the cup in fright, potion spilling all over her
feet. Y/N grasped her wand, swiveling around to see who was there. It wasn’t
Snape. It wasn’t Fred. It was his brother, George, holding his wand up as well
and dawning a very confused expression.
“Were you going to drink that?!” He said in a harsh whisper.
He could hardly believe his eyes.
“No, I was just going to give it a little kiss!” Y/N
snapped. “Yes, I was going to drink it! Until you came bursting in here like a
“I’m the lunatic?!” He raved. “What does that make you,
trying to seal off your emotions?”
“Listen,” Y/N said, rolling her eyes. “I’m just trying to
forget about him for a while. I’d be nice to have control of my own mind.”
George was taken aback.
“Him?” He scoffed. “Who’s him?”
Y/N grew red in the face.
“No one.” She murmured, embarrassed. She refused to look at
the other twin. George’s eyes grew wide.
“Do you fancy my brother?” He asked, in shock. “Lee was just
“He’s got his nice moments!” Y/N said, defending herself. “He’s
warm, and when he smiles I feel like I’m standing in sunshine. He makes me
laugh, George, and sometimes I wish I wasn’t on the butt end of the joke, okay?”
George was speechless, his mouth open and gaping for the
“Listen, I won’t fancy him for long if you’d just let me get
on with what I was doing!” Y/N snapped, bending over to pick up her chalice and
give it a refill. George ran over to her, and stole it out of her hands.
“There’s no way that I’m going to let you drink that!” He
said. “Now that I know what you’ve said! You need to confess, Y/N. You need to
tell Fred what you told me.”
“I think I’d rather walk through the Great Hall naked.” Y/N
said firmly, crossing her arms and staring George down.
He narrowed his eyes, pointed his wand at Y/N’s torso.
“Go on, then.”
Y/N had grumbled all the way up the staircases. As the
neared the Gryffindor common room, her attempts to negotiate with George
increased. He would hear none of it, and prodded her toward the portrait door.
The Fat Lady swung open upon hearing the password and a very nervous Y/N
stepped into the common room, full of regret.
A small group had gathered, playing a game of exploding snap
and chatting quite loudly. The din had disappeared when their eyes set upon
Y/N, followed by George. Several heads turned, most of them carrying a
“Back for more, darling?” Fred joked, rising from his seat
on the sofa to face her.
“I need to talk to you.” Y/N grumbled.
A wave of “ooh!”s and kissing noises arose, and Fred began
to chuckle at the teasing. George shook his head sharply, giving the crowd a
warning glare. Their calls died away. Fred scrunched his nose at his brothers’
“Yeah, alright.” Fred said, climbing over the loveseat.
George gave her a pointed look, nodded swiftly, and the two
headed into the corridor. Fred’s face was still puckered with confusion, and
Y/N shifted her weight from foot to foot.
“Fred, George is making me admit something.” She said,
sighing. She wouldn’t look him in the eyes.
“Go on, then.” He said, nodding.
“You’re going to ridicule me.” She added.
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
Y/N sighed again.
“Listen,” She said, finally admitting defeat. This should be
a moment of joy, but Y/N felt as though her heart had been stepped on and
flattened. “George thinks getting this off of my chest is good for me. I know
you all have a good laugh trying to piss me off – and I get it. I’m flappable
so it makes for a good show. But as much as I hate to admit it, there’s
something that’s grown from that attention you give me. I tried to suffocate
it, but that’s not how these things work.”
Y/N captured Fred’s attention fully, and she paused, daring
to look him in the eye. All she could think of was how beautiful and peaceful
the brown of his irises were.
“I put up with the pranks, because the attention you give me
feeds my desire.”
“What-“ Fred’s voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “What
Y/N looked grim.
“The desire for you to… notice me.”
He didn’t understand and stayed silent, causing Y/N to fish
for better words.
“The desire for you to laugh with me, not at me. The desire
for that attention to be undivided. I want to be spoiled, I want to be shown…
love. What I’m getting at, is that I’ve grown to fancy you, and George wouldn’t
let me throw that out the window, so here I am. Sorry for wasting your time.”
She said, finally.
Fred paused, sucking at his bottom lip and shuffling his
“Well, I’m not going to ridicule you.” He said, after a
pregnant pause. “I… uh. I agree with you.”
Y/N frowned, slumping her shoulders.
“You agree with me that I fancy you?” She asked in an “are-you-serious”
type tone, raising her eyebrows.
“No- that’s not what I meant.” He snapped back, defensively.
“Look, I just… I’ll show you.”
Y/N’s eyes grew wide as Fred took a step closer. One of his
long fingers brushed a lock of y/h/c hair back from Y/N’s face, and the other
hand cupped her jaw. He leaned down and closed the gap between them, his lips
pressing against hers. In the tender moment, Y/N was filled with warmth. When
he pulled away, Fred looked down at her with a scarlet blush.
“See?” He said. “That’s what I meant.”
Y/N was about to fumble for words, until the portrait door
swung open and George stepped out, knowingly. He shuffled a deck of cards in
his hands, eyebrows raised at the blushing couple.
“Well, if you’re done out here, we’re placing bets on a game
of Wizard’s rummy. I’ve got two sickles on Lee.”
Fred wrapped his arm around Y/N shoulder and the two glanced
at each other fondly before looking back at George.
Can you do an angsty imagine of you and ur bf Dylan fighting n like Dylan's kinda letting out all of his anger and your just like "whoa" and unaware of how much he is holding in :w love your blog btw!! ❤❤
“Well, I told you not to press too hard on the pedal!” Dylan says frustratedly. He had let you drive his car after he fixed it up and you accidentally hit a pole. The damage wasn’t major, but it was going to take a lot of extra fixing that he didn’t want to do. “I didn’t!” you’re almost in tears. You weren’t too far from the house when it happened so you ran back and you and Dylan have been yelling ever since you told him. “Then what, it just magically ran itself into a fucking pole?” he screams, livid, “You know how much I’ve put into that car!” A couple tears run down your cheeks. He’s never yelled at you like this before and you’re shocked and incredibly upset. “I know, I’m sorry!” “No you’re not!” he growls, “You couldn’t care less about my things!”
You narrow your eyes, looking at him angrily, “Why are you saying that? You know what’s no true!” “No, I don’t know!” he says a little louder, “You steal my car, you break my plates-” “That was one time!” you say frustratedly, “And I apologized then, why the hell are you bringing it up now?” “Because you don’t care about my stuff and I hate it!” he yells. You look up at him angrily with tears still in your eyes, “Get away from me!” you put your hands on his chest and push him back. He pauses for a moment, looking at a spot on the carpet. “Y/n, don’t… don’t push me, okay?” he mutters quietly, “Just don’t.” You shake your head, your lip quivering, “I can’t even talk to you.” You leave the room and Dylan’s still standing there, knowing he needs time to cool down.
After a little while he walks to the bedroom, sitting on the opposite end of you. You’re both quiet for a few minutes and Dylan looks at you, “I’m sorry.” You shake your head, looking down. “It’s fine,” your voice cracks. Just what you need, to start crying again. “No, it’s not,” he says firmly, “I have no right to treat you that way. And I’m so sorry that I did.” You sniff and he says, “You can forgive me, but you can’t forget it and that kills me. I don’t want you to ever see me like that.” He shakes his head, “I love you so much… I promise I’m going to find some way to deal with this.” You look over at him, biting your lip as you move closer and curl up into his arms. He kisses the top of your head, holding you gently, “I love you.” You look up at him and stretch up to kiss his cheek, “I love you, Dyl.” He knows he scared you and that’s going to stick with him for a long time, but you know he’d never do anything to hurt you. The only thing left to do is move on and build a stronger relationship with him.
-Shai Ni and The Old Man of the House on the sofa, binge-watching Netflix and tawdry telenovelas. At first The Old Man hated the idea of having a television in the house, let alone a nice flat-screen with wifi streaming. Things have changed.
-Way back in the day, when Meadow Lark was first assigned to the old “Haunted House”, it was in a fair state of disrepair. Being the enterprising young man he is, Meadow Lark put on his headphones and came a-callin’ with a toolbox and a “I don’t get paid enough for this shit” bad attitude. The Old Man of the House, still unable to materialize at this point, was livid at the irreverent fellow ripping up rotted floorboards and peeling wallpaper that was older than his grandparents. But no matter how he wailed and rattled and flashed lights about, Meadow Lark didn’t pay it any mind. Just old pipes, drafty walls, and bad wiring as far as he was concerned. But in the end? The Old Man couldn’t help but swallow his pride when Meadow Lark replaced everything he’d yanked out with a great attention to detail, restoring it in proper quality and care while chewing out any hired workers who tried to half-ass any part of the job.
-Brainstorm keeps trying to set aside project time to investigate the old ruins on the far end of town, but keeps losing his keys for some reason. He tried walking there with his gear in a backpack, but stepped in wet concrete and twisted his ankle. He tried using Google Earth to get a top-down view of the place but his apartment had a sudden blackout that lasted all day, and it caused a partition corruption on his computer when he got it booted back up again. He is not deterred. He will get this done… just as soon as he gets over this nasty stomach flu.
holy fucking shit this convicted pedo was working at the same theatre my 11yr old sister and was working alongside production with her like she saw him every day (thank god he didn’t do anything to her specifically) but like fuck i’m so livid what is the godman world coming to where a pedo can just change his name and jump regions and get to working with children scott fucking free
ktrovosky asked for some ronsey tattoo aftercare and I honestly live to serve adriana so I wrote what was supposed to be a drabble and is actually 1.8k :’)
idk how gay and sad you wanted this to be but hoooo boy it is both
Gansey finds him swaddled in cling wrap like a miserable cafeteria sandwich, his fine freckled back drenched in black and red.
Ronan glances over his shoulder at him and bares his teeth.
Gansey tuts, an impossibly condescending noise inherited from a long line of impossible, condescending people. “Declan will be livid.”
Ronan’s face twists, but he doesn’t move to spit or break or topple like he usually would. Gansey realizes all at once it’s because he’s paralyzed by pain.
He steps closer, trying not to visibly hover.
“Fuck Declan. What can he do to me that hasn’t already been done?”
Gansey rolls his eyes. “Oh but he’s constantly outdoing himself.”
“I wasn’t talking about things he’s done,” Ronan says darkly, and Gansey’s mouth twitches, indulgent.
“No. You weren’t, were you.” Gansey fingers the peeling edge of the second skin holding Ronan’s tattoo together, and he twitches violently. “He could cut you off,” Gansey suggests.
Ronan scoffs, as he knew he would. “Good thing I have a filthy fucking loaded best friend.”
Gansey warms. This has been their inside (and only) joke in the broken glass marathon of the last few months. Declan is the obstacle and Gansey the solution. He wishes it didn’t make him feel so gorgeously needed.
He wishes Ronan wasn’t in this warped custody battle between brother and friend at all, that he hadn’t found himself in sudden need of that kind of parental display. He wishes Niall Lynch would walk in right now and fill the room up wall to wall to ceiling, leather and whiskey, ground shaking laughter and crystal cruel eyes.
“What is it?” He asks quietly, eyeing the puffy black lines twisting Ronan’s back into something as angry as his insides.
Ronan shrugs delicately. “Lots of shit. Nightmares.” He seems to find this funny for some reason, and his back quakes.
“May I?” Gansey asks, a tender palm at the nape of Ronan’s neck just above where the mess begins.
He shrugs again, but there’s new tension in him, and a silence that Gansey doesn’t understand.
Both dude, during the game she was livid but also super hot at the same time and post game she looked like she was so happy and giddy mostly because her girl is here I bet. Also that cute little back pay from ak on the hug video
Dude. Do you remember after the Chicago game when the Pride lost and Ash was super giddy and everyone couldn’t figure out why until we found out she was in DC