#and i was sitting in my bathroom suffering and trying not to throw up and trying to keep my head… on

[dailydegurechaff]

Today's Daily Degurechaff is... ok I said June would be inbox answering month but imma be real with you chiefs I am in so much pain I can’t draw much of anything so just take this for now

[fingertipsmp3]

Sometimes you’ve just gotta get a migraine in order to have an epiphany

[dreamescapeswriting]

Stray Kids Reaction || They're Sick

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - July 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

GN!Reader. I changed it a little just so they weren’t too similar to one another, I hope that’s alright. Please let me know and I can fix and rewrite it for you <3

Trigger warning: Mentions of throwing up as well as people being ill, please don’t read if it’s something that may upset you <3

CHAN:

As soon as you felt the weight in the bed shift you realised Chan was waking up but it wasn't his usual slow wake-up, he shot out of bed before the bathroom door slammed. You frowned sitting up in the bed and glancing over at the bedroom door that was left wide open. 

"Channie?" You called out, quickly making your way toward the bathroom and peeling the door open to reveal Chan huddled over the toilet with his head lying against the seat. 

"That's not hygienic." You teased softly, walking behind him and kneeling on the ground, carefully running your fingers through his hair and hissing when you felt just how hot his skin was to touch. Before Chan could say anything to you, a gag sounded and he threw up into the toilet again. 

"I'll be right back." You whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder before making your way toward the kitchen and reaching for everything you were going to need for him.

You came book moments later holding a small kit that you'd prepared, Chan was slumped against the wall looking pale and slightly green, if that was even possible. 

"I'm sorry," He mumbled as you dropped in front of him, taking his temperature before handing him some tablets.

"Don't be, baby," You whispered, giving him a small bottle of water before cleaning the toilet as he took everything you gave to him.

"You don't have to do all of this," He grumbled, laying his head against the wall as he watched you clean up the mess he'd made, before sitting down in front of him once again.

"I know," You smiled warmly at him, "I want to. Did you take everything?" You noticed the tablets you'd given to him were all gone and he mumbled "yes" tiredly making you frown a little,

"Bed. Come on." You told him, gently helping him up from the floor and guiding him into the bedroom, even now he was unsteady on his feet and swaying a little. 

"I'll be fine, I just need to get some food and I can go to work."

"You're going to work over my dead body." You told him, laying him down on the bed before laying a cold cloth on his forehead, his eyes finding yours as a small pout played on his lips.

"But-"

"No buts, I'll call JYPE myself and force them to put you on strict bed rest," You warned him as his cheeks began to turn pink.

"You too warm?" Concern dripped from your voice as you noticed the pink on his cheeks and he smiled, shaking his head slowly.

"Just happy to have you be so caring to me," He whined out as you gently covered him with a thin blanket, kissing his cheek.

"Try and get some sleep, there's a bucket beside the bed just in case you feel ill again." You promised him, hoping the anti-sickness tablets would help him even a little. He whimpered a little but nodded, his eyes fluttering shut as he was barely able to keep them open much longer.

MINHO:

Whenever Minho knew he was getting sick he was the type to sneak away and suffer in silence, he didn't want to be a burden to anyone else and he would hide as much as humanly possible. Only this time when he'd shown up to the dorms you were already standing in the kitchen and cooking something that smelled as though it unclogged his sinuses the second he took a bite.

"Good, you're back." You smiled warmly at him, running your hands over the apron you were wearing before making your way toward him. You took the overnight bag from his arms and placed it on the sofa,

"Go and jump in the bath I made for you," You ran your hands over his cheeks and felt how hot he was running despite it being below-freezing outside. 

"How did you know where I was?" He'd made sure to make the guy's promise not to tell you that he was coming to rest. They were under strict orders to tell you he was needed for practice a lot, he hated lying to you but he didn't want you to get sick and he didn't want to burden you.

"Minho, we've been together for a year, if you think I don't know where you slink off to whenever you're sick then we have a problem." You joked softly, placing a soft kiss on his jaw before making your way back to the kitchen.

As soon as he was done he was dressed in some PJs you'd laid out on the bed for him and the soup was waiting for him on the kitchen table,

"What did you make?" His voice was hoarse from how hard he'd been coughing lately,

"It's a soup, my grandmother used to make it whenever I got a cold, it's soft on your throat but it'll unclog your nose," You promised him as he sat down beside you, a small smile tugging on the corners of his lips.

"Thank you," He whispered,

"I know you hate it when people help you but I want to do this, baby, I want to help." You told him as you ran your hand over his, gently rubbing his skin as he nodded shyly at you. 

"I feel like a burden when I'm sick," He admitted begrudgingly.

"Don't. I enjoy getting to pamper you, usually, it's always you that pampers me," You laughed softly, giving him a spoon and starting to eat the soup together.

CHANGBIN:

A crash sounding from the living room made you jolt awake and reach for Changbin who wasn't beside you, your eyebrows knitted together as you stared down wondering where he was. It was almost two in the morning and it wasn't like him to get home so late from work, or even from parties whenever he and the boys were celebrating. 

"Shit," You heard a voice mumble before laughter sounded from the living room, followed by another crash making you head that way only to find Changbin bent down trying to clean something up from the floor. You flicked the light switch on only to find him trying to clean up glass.

"Binnie, what-"

"Shh! I can't wake Yn up," He laughed again, his body swaying slightly and you instantly knew what was wrong with him, he'd clearly been drinking too much that night.

"Lay down," You ordered, forcing him down onto the sofa and trying to get a good look at his hand, luckily he hadn't cut it on his gallant effort to clean up the broken vase that scattered the floors.

"Ynnnnn!" He yelled before he got that look on his face, his hands holding his stomach and you quickly darted to the kitchen, grabbing a bucket and running back to him, just in time before he barfed into the bucket you were holding. 

"Sorry," He grumbles, his head spinning as he held onto the bucket and kept his head inside, not daring to lift it in case he threw up again. You stared at him and shook your head, you knew that they were celebrating finishing their album tonight but you had no idea he'd come back to you like this. If you had, you would have prepared everything for him already.

"Don't move, okay?" You stared at him as he held up a thumb and you began to work your magic. Cleaning up the glass from the floor as good as you could before heading into the kitchen and grabbing some water, painkillers and orange juice. Adding everything onto a tray before making sure to grab him some plain bread to eat as soon as he was done throwing up. 

"You're the best," He told you as you placed the tray down on the coffee table and ran your fingers through his hair,

"I know," You teased, smirking down at him as he groaned, throwing up once again into the bucket in his hands, followed by a moan of disgust.

"I'm never drinking again," He told you, making you roll your eyes playfully,

"How many times have we been in this exact situation and you say that exact sentence?" You laughed, rubbing his back softly as he mumbled something about "meaning it this time."

HYUNJIN:

You pushed open the door to your shared apartment you had with Hyunjin and frowned a little, the usual welcoming scent of lavender you had burning was missing. Instead, a faint, unfamiliar mustiness hung in the air.

"Hyunjin?" You called out, walking further into the apartment and dropping off your bags, something was clearly wrong if there was no response from him. Hyunjin had been complaining about a headache the night before, but he brushed it off as a side effect of practising all day.  

"hyunnie?" You called out again, louder this time, as you made your way through the apartment toward the bedroom where you found the door slightly ajar.

There you found Hyunjin lying sprawled on the bed, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead. A pillow over his head as he grumbled something about you being too loud. You hurried to his side, kneeling beside the bed and sighing a little, you slowly peeled back the pillow to find him screwing his eyes shut. The light hurt his eyes.

"Hey," You said softly, brushing a damp strand of hair from his forehead. "You're burning up. Why didn't you call me?" You breathed out,

"I didn't want to worry you," he mumbled, his eyes closing again as you shook your head at him, you hated when he refused to ask for help.

"I'm going to take care of you," You promised, taking in the sight of him and the bed, he did not look comfortable at all. 

"Let's get you comfortable first." You carefully untangled the sheets from around him, helping him sit up enough to drink some water. He sipped gratefully, his parched lips parting for more. Next, you rushed to the windows, opening them slightly but pulling the blinds down so the light from the afternoon sun wouldn't bother him.

You spent the next few hours by his side. You changed the washcloth on his head regularly, fetched medicine, and coaxed him into drinking more fluids. You'd told the boys he wouldn't be going to work for a few days and made sure he was going to be on bed rest for a while, or at least until he was better.

"You're the best partner anyone could ever wish for." He mumbled, his voice hoarse as you carefully handed him some tea, smiling warmly at him.

"Just drink the tea, no flirting." You winked at him before he sipped on the warm drink you'd made for him.

JISUNG:

Jisung had been under a lot of stress lately at work which should have been your first hint at what sight was going to await you as you walked into the dorms one night after work. Jisung was sprawled out on the sofa, looking as though he'd been through a week of no sleep and hadn't eaten properly.

"What are you doing here?" He hadn't meant for it to come out the way it had but he hadn't expected to see you tonight, he'd been looking forward to rotting away on the sofa for the entire night. 

"It's date night," You reminded him, pointing down at your outside that you'd spent hours picking before laying your bag down and kneeling beside Jisung who looked heartbroken that he had forgotten the date. 

"Babe...I-I'm sorry." He stuttered out but you'd put your hand on his forehead and bit down on your lip, he was already spiking a fever and you hadn't been here to know how long or how bad he had been. 

"Shh, it's fine. We can have a cosy night in." You suggested, shrugging off your jacket and going to search their cabinets in look for anything other than food. They had to have some sort of medication for when they got sick, right?

"Sit up," You whispered as you sat in front of Jisung, holding a jar of vapour rub in your hand and waiting for your boyfriend to inch forward. As soon as he did you carefully began to rub the cream into his chest, making sure your hands were warm enough so you didn't shock him.

"Thank you," He groaned, his voice sounding as though he'd been swallowing sand paper all day.

"I'll make you some tea and we can watch Howl's moving castle." You suggested, gently running your fingers through his hair and smiling at him with a warm smile.

FELIX:

You'd woken up earlier than intended this morning, went and made breakfast and came back to the bedroom to find Felix sitting up in the bed, his head in his hands as he tried to calm himself down from the wave of dizziness that had met him when he woke up. 

"You look like shit," You offered as you saw the state of him, trying to tease him softly.

"Thanks, that's really nice to hear from the love of my life," He coughed out with a weak smile, his voice sounded like he'd been eating nails for days and you hated that he was getting sick. 

"You should have texted me," You mumbled, running your hand over his head and checking for a fever, he was already starting to burn up which only confirmed that he was getting sick. 

"I don't want to bother you," He mumbled, his body aching as he laid down in the sheets and snuggled against them. Felix hated this, he was normally the caring one in the relationship. He wanted to be the one to look after you and right now he felt as though he was failing that.

"You're never a bother, Lixie." You whined at him, his eyes struggling to stay open as he gave into the feeling of what his body was telling him.

When he woke up again, the smell of chamomile and honey filled the air and you were sitting at the edge of his bed with a tray on your lap.

"Drink." You ordered, holding up a small cup of steaming tea, Felix knew better than to fight you on it and he took a sip, the warm liquid soothing his throat,

"You didn't have to do this." He coughed out, sitting up slightly and leaning against the headboard,

"Of course I did," You smirked as you replied. "You're always taking care of me. Let me return the favour." Felix sighed at you, pouting a little as he looked down at himself, stuck in bed for god knows how long. 

"I just hate being useless." You hated that he was beating himself up so much so you ran your hand over his cheek,

 "You're not useless, Lix. You're just human. Everyone gets sick."

"Not you," he mumbled.

"Especially me," You corrected, scoffing a little as you remembered the last time you'd gotten so sick you couldn't leave your bed. 

"Remember last winter when I had the flu? You stayed up all night making sure I was okay. It's my turn now." Felix frowned, his stubbornness warring a little since he knew you were right.

 "I just want to be the one taking care of you. It makes me feel… I don’t know, like I’m doing something right." Your expression softened as you reached out, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. 

"You do so much right, Lixie. You don't need to prove anything to me. Let me take care of you this time, okay?" He thought about it for a moment before nodding his head, relaxing against the pillows as you spent the night looking after him. Bringing him soup, fluffing his pillows, giving him everything he could ever need and more.

SEUNGMIN:

All week long Seungmin had been giving you the brush off whenever you tried to get him to go to yours or when you suggested going to spend time with him, you began to worry a little that something was really wrong and as you stepped into his apartment your fears were confirmed. 

"Kim Seungmin." You cried out seeing him lying on the sofa, sweat dripping down his forehead as he coughed into a tissue and whined at you for being too loud.

"Go home." He grumbled, a little harsher than he wanted but he couldn't risk you getting sick because of him, the last thing he wanted was for you to end up the way he was feeling right now. 

"No." You laughed, dropping your jacket onto the coat hook and making your way to the kitchen where you knew he had things he needed. 

"yn." He coughed up but you ignored him, preparing some tea before bringing it to him, laying it down on the coffee table and staring down at your boyfriend who appeared to be pouting at you.

"You're cute when you're pouting," You smirked, kissing his cheek softly before he moved away from you,

"You'll get sick," He moaned, shaking his head at you and covering his mouth with a tissue as if it was going to stop the germs from getting to you.

"I'll be fine, just let me take care of you." You stayed where you were standing and he sighed, knowing better than to argue with you about something since you were just as stubborn as him usually. 

"Go to bed, I'll clean up and make you some soup." He nodded, sluggishly making his way to his room and getting under the sheets, shutting his eyes for a few minutes.

A few days later Seungmin finally began to feel human again and you'd cleaned up the entire apartment, opening the windows for fresh air and bringing him hot soup for every meal so he would be nursed back to health. 

JEONGIN: 

You always said you had a sixth sense about when those you cared about were going to get sick which was probably why you'd walked into your home after work one night already carrying everything you were going to need to help Jeongin feel better.

"How did you know?" He mumbled as he saw the pharmacy bag in your hand as well as a grocery bag that seemed to be filled to the brim with ingredients. 

"Because I'm secretly magic," You smirked, hating to see him laid up on the sofa surrounded by tissues, his nose already red from blowing it so much and you smiled weakly. 

"Magcially good looking." He said, trying to pass the comment off as flirty but because he was sick it just didn't work and he coughed into his hands, whining a little at the pain in his chest.

"Come on, take these baby." You offered, handing him the box of flu tablets before opening a fresh bottle of water and taking away the one he had been using.

"From now on, a fresh bottle every time or let me wash the one you're using." You instructed him, taking some of the rubs you'd gotten from the doctors and gently massaging it into his bare chest, watching as he stared at you with love in his eyes. As much as Jeongin hated being sick he adored this caring side of you, getting to be pampered by you was one of his favourite things in the world.

"Are you going to make your famous soup?" He shouldn't have sounded as excited as he did but you only ever made it when someone was sick and refused to do it any other time.

"Yes. But only if you go and get in a warm bath, let your body soak." You kissed his cheek and watched as he practically raced to the bathroom.

@chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @stayconnecteed @saymyspringrain @toplinehyunjin @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @just-aelia @choisoorin @straykids5star @midnightfrog625 @beccaskz @scarletemeterio @halesandy @junhannies @gothic4under4lord @lixie-phoria @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lensfilm @elizaschuyler18 @piratequeen-impact @kpopsstuffs @chaeyoungs @delulu18 @xyahrinx @katsukis1wife @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @blairscott @4-chan-inpadella @niktwazny303 @moonlight-the-writer @armystay89 @hadassahchan @yxngbxkkie @myyouthdonut @extrhotjne @ca11me3mily @elissasimp @piercedddriver

[kksverse]

Winters Touch

A/N: This is part of a series where you can find the first chapter below!! Also, I didn't want to rush them getting to know each other so please don't send airstrikes to my location 😩.

I also posted it on ao3!!

Chapter One

masterlist

Summary:

Soulmate AU where the name of your soulmate is seared into the skin above your heart when you first make eye contact with them.

Reader discovers that Bucky Barnes is her soulmate when he is the Winter Solider.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2261

Chapter 2: When the Phone Rings

It had been weeks since you met your soulmate. Since your soulmate almost tried to kill you. To say you have been handling it poorly would be an understatement. 

In the beginning, you would sit by the phone waiting for Steve to call every hour of every day. And every day you would be disappointed by the silence that filled your apartment. Your workplace was one of the many that were ruined during the attack so you have had nothing to fill your time with. So you deep dived into finding out who exactly Bucky was. The more you searched about him the more your heart ached at the thought of what he has done. A news coverage spread of the attack a few weeks ago named him the “Winter Soldier”, whose list of crimes were so long they shorted the coverage to only cover his confirmed kills. 

His murders. 

The day you found out you couldn’t eat all day. Throwing up anything you attempted to eat. Since then your faith in the man that Steve described has been lost. How can someone like that do this? 

So you stopped waiting by the phone. Stopped waiting for any sign of your soulmate. Began trying to move on with your life. Started volunteering at animal shelters, tried yoga, took daily walks to clear your racing thoughts. But the more you did to try and move on the harder it was to sleep. 

Your dreams plagued you a life that could be. A life with Bucky, a life of happiness with your soulmate. Then you woke up and for a second the happiness in your dreams would follow you but it wouldn’t last long when reality came crashing down and left you with a heavy heart ready to split into two. 

You were making breakfast one morning getting ready to go to the animal shelter when you heard a name on the news that caused your body to go still. Spinning around your breath catches on the screen at the picture of him. 

Bucky

You grabbed the remote with a shaky hand turning up the tv until it covered the sound of your beating heart. 

“Statements have come out that the infamous Winter Soldier was not involved in the bombing of the UN Senate in Vienna but instead was framed for the bombing and the murder of King T’Chaka by Helmut Zemo” 

You could not move as the picture of Zemo came on screen. You didn’t dare to breathe as you watched the screen. 

“Sources move to the motion to pardon the Winter Soldier, formerly lieutenant James Buckanan Barnes who served alongside Steve Rogers. The pardon goes under the information that James Barnes was held against his will and brainwashed into committing the crimes under the guise of the Winter Soldier. While we await for more information regarding this matter, it has been confirmed that he remains at the Avengers tower until further action of the pardon is to be taken” 

The coverage continued to go into detail about HYDRA and what they had done to turn James Buchanan Barnes into the Winter Soldier. 

Tears rolled down your face at the information on the screen. Steve was right. A sob broke out at the thought of that. Steve was right and you had given up on him. You had given up on your soulmate. You had tried to move on with your life while he suffered. You hand reached out to grip the couch in front of you as your knees felt weak. The pain in your chest was so heavy you could not breathe. Looking up at the screen, you saw the list of things that they did to him. That they did to your soulmate. Your vision went spotty as you rushed to the bathroom and threw up your breakfast. 

When you had nothing left in your body you pulled your hair out of your face as you laid down on the cold tile of the floor. You laid there until you felt the buzzing of your phone against the tile. Looking at caller ID your heart stopped in your throat. You sat up as you answered the phone.

“Steve?” your voice coming out harshly. 

“Hi” he replied immediately, his voice causing you to bite back more tears 

“Hi” you whispered back not believing that he was actually calling you. All the hours you waited by the phone only for it to be silent. 

“Did you see the news on channel ... .well every channel” he said humorously, you could hear whispering in the background but you didn’t question it. 

“Yes. Is it true?” your voice hoarse from throwing up and sobbing. 

“Yes” you could hear the smile in his voice. “We got him back” he whispered softly. 

You couldn’t stop the smile on your face as you felt a swirl of emotions in your chest. Tears streamed down your face at the thought that Steve was reunited with his friend and that Bucky was safe and free. Sniffing and rubbing your face you listened as he ranted about the last three weeks not interrupting as you waited until he mentioned him again. 

“He wants to meet you” Steve said anxiously, like he was scared of your reaction 

Your breath got stuck in your throat. Shame bloomed in your chest. You had given up on him and now he wants to meet you. Something that you settled on never happening. Your silence prompted Steve to continue. 

“He hasn’t stopped asking about you, you know. It killed him to know that you thought he didn’t want you” he said softly 

Your hand covered your mouth as you bit back a sob in your chest. 

“Ok” you whispered 

“Would you like to come by today?” Steve continued 

“If not I totally understand. It’s totally last minute and you probably have a million things to do. Just let me know what works best for-”

“Today is good for me” you said softly, still not believing that this is happening. 

“Thank God. You do not know that crap I would’ve gotten if I didn’t convince you” Steve joked lightly laughing anxiously. 

Your grip on the phone tightens as the anxiety begins rushing through your body. What if he didn’t want you. He saw you that day on the street. He knew you and knew you were his and still left. 

That wasn’t him. 

The memories of Steve’s voice soothing you. You breathed shakily as you listened to Steve try and send you the address of the tower through his flip phone. You could hear the noises of frustration from your side of the phone. 

“I know where the Avengers tower is” you emphasized ‘Avengers’ humorously. Moving to stand up you gripped the counter as you stood, your whole body was still shaky.  

Steve laughed awkwardly at that.

“That was kind of stupid of me huh? Well please let me know when you get here I am very excited to see you again” You could hear a voice in the background. 

“We are very excited to see you again” Steve’s voice was playful as he said goodbye and ended the call. 

You barely gave yourself time to think as you quickly brushed your teeth and untangled your hair. Making sure you didn’t smell like you had just thrown up everything in your body you grabbed your bag and keys and practically ran out of the house. 

The drive to Manhattan from D.C was long and backed up as people made their way into the city for work. The whole drive you made sure to keep the music louder than your thoughts cause you knew if you started spirally about seeing him you would send yourself into a panic attack. But nothing could prepare you for when you entered the city and could see the Avengers Tower towering over the surrounding buildings. Your heart began racing as you entered the parking lot below the floors of the tower. 

You tried to focus on your breathing to stop the panic attack but your breaths still came out short and shaky. With shaky hands you dialed a number on your phone and focused on the ringing instead of your racing heart. 

“Are you here?” Steve’s voice filtered through the phone. 

“I don’t think I can do this” You voice came out shakily as your tried not to let tears fall 

“I’ll be right there” You heard movements on the other side of the phone before you heard the phone click. 

You rested your head against the steering wheel counting up to four each time as you breathed. It only took 4 long breaths before you heard light tapping on the window. Your head whipped up to find Steve there looking at you with a soft smile. You turned off the car before opening the door and stepping out. 

“I’m sorry for calling you. I just didn’t know what to do” your voice wavering as your breathing worsened. 

You felt Steve lightly reach out and grab your arm in an act of reassurance. 

“Don't be, you did the right thing! That’s why you have my number remember” He laughed softly while smiling at you. 

You simply nodded, your breathing steadied as you felt your heart beat strongly in your chest. One final deep breath before Steve gestured if you were ready to continue. 

You walked with Steve as he rambled about certain aspects of the building why we passed them. You marveled at the technology and the grandeur of the tower but your mind was really only truly focused on one thing. 

Suddenly as you reached the top of the tower, Steve suddenly stopped and looked down at you. 

“Listen, just take it easy on him. He is here but he is not the same Bucky as I knew. Not yet” Steve’s voice wavered as he spoke. 

“Just give him a chance. Please” Desperation coating his voice. 

You simply reached out your hand and squeezed his, providing him the same reassurance he gave you. He paused for a second, giving you a soft smile before knocking on the door in front of you. 

You held your breath as the door opened slowly, revealing the same soldier you saw on the street just weeks ago. He wore none of the combat gear that you saw him in. Instead he was in a long sleeve shirt with a pair of jeans, he looked comfortable. You felt his stare long before you met his eyes. Which were now looking down at you softly. 

You let down a deep breath, your chest falling as you looked at him for the first time truly. His face held none of the hardness as the Winter Soldier. 

He looked human

He looked beautiful

Your mouth was wide open as you admired him which didn’t escape the notice of Steve as you heard a soft laugh beside you. Quickly regaining composure you shut your mouth and gave him a soft smile. 

“Hi” you said so softly it might as well have been a whisper. 

Bucky’s chest shuttered at the sound of your voice. He could not believe you were standing in front of him. You were the most beautiful woman he has ever laid eyes on and you were all his. That was the most devastating news of all. He didn’t deserve you not in this world. Not in any of them. 

“Hi” his voice rocked through your body warming your cheeks. 

You looked down softly not wanting him to see. 

Suddenly a voice next to you broke your trance. 

“Guess you don’t have to worry about if she is a dog or cat person” Steve’s laugh filled the halls. 

Looking at him with a sideways look you realize as you look down at yourself. You didn’t bother changing from the outfit you would wear to the dog shelter. Dressed in black leggings and an oversized white tee with the words ‘I PET DOGS’ bolded with bright pink letters. 

Your cheeks deepened in color as you groaned at the realization covering your shirt by crossing your arms over your chest. Bucky looked down at you with a soft smile, his blue eyes sparkling in a way that made your heart throb. He was devastating to look at. 

“As much as I want all of this silence to continue. The team is expecting to meet you right about now” Steve said, checking his watch. 

You looked nervously between Bucky and Steve at the thought of meeting the infamous Avengers. You weren’t sure what they wanted to meet you for. Bucky said nothing as he stepped into the hallway moving to follow Steve to the living room. He waited for Steve to turn his back on the two of you until he gestured to you to walk alongside him. 

Your heart was beating out of your chest with anxiety. Between him and the team you’ve had enough for a lifetime. 

Suddenly you felt the cold bite of metal brushing against your fingertips. You straightened up at the feeling of glancing at your soulmate next to you who was looking at you with a weird look in his eyes. A mixture of comfort and affection that you thought you imagined as he eyed the door in front of you with a familiar coldness.

As you walked down the hall you chased that feeling of coldness. A warm feeling flowed through your chest which brought a small smile to your face that you weren’t ready to admit. 

[catmelonwriting]

the fic of aku and chuuya where the reader has bulimia was so good omg :,)

as someone who also suffers from bulimia i found it so so comforting

if possible could i please request another one with dazai, nikolai and poe <333

please remember to take care of yourself!! <3

More BSD Men with a bulimic! Reader

Warnings: Bulimia, vomit type purging, Nikolai is ignorant, Nikolai spoon feeds you, Nikolai in general, I really fucking hate Dazai so I'm a little mean in his part, reader is not underweight b/c this is based on my experiences

Characters: Dazai, Nikolai, Poe

A/N: this is my first time ever writing for poe and I do not think I nailed his character but yk it's chill.. also I don't really like this I think the only one I really did good was Chuuya in pt 1

Part one here

Nikolai

- I'm so sorry 4 this but he probably thinks ur pathetic..

- Thinks bulimia is gross IM SORRY

- He won't try and stop u till his DUMBASS is informed by Fyodor that Bulimia, especially vomit + laxative purge types are very very very dangerous!!

- A sick part of him wants to encourage you to continue so if you die he'd feel free but ofc he pushes that away and won't encourage you

Oneshot

Catching you purge

You two had just finished eating dinner on your couch when you promptly excused yourself to the bathroom. He looks up at your standing form with suspicious eyes, but doesn't say anything and lets you wander off towards the bathroom.. just until he hears choking and coughing coming from your shared restroom.

You let out a gasp of surprise as you hear the bathroom door open with a loud bang. Fuck, did you really forget to lock it? You pull the end of your toothbrush out the back of your throat and turn around to face your loving boyfriend with tears in your eyes, who had a look of pity on his face.

He groans in exasperation, "Dove.. didn't I tell you to stop doing that?" He asks, his time filled with faux sympathy as he picks the toothbrush out of your hand, placing it back in the holder. All you can do is sigh.. he just didn't get it. "Kolya, I wish it was that easy, but it's not. It's really, really not."

"Oh please, excuses excuses." He mutters, pulling you to your feet before closing the toilet lid and flushing your dinner down the drain. "C'mon, let's get you some more food." Pulling you out of the bathroom by the arm, he drags you to the kitchen and sits you down on the floor.

"Kolya.. no.. I don't need anything else. I don't want anything else." You grumble while he digs in the fridge and pantries. "Well, you just threw up all the nutrients I gave you.. so we gotta get at least a little bit more in you." He smiles, sitting down in front of you with his legs crossed. He placed a bowl of applesauce in front of you, lifting up the spoon to your mouth. "Say aahh.." he giggles, and you begrudgingly open your mouth.

Once the bowl is finished, he places it in your sink and looks down at you with a serious edge in his eyes. "Now.. bathroom is off limits for.. let's say an hour. Cmon, I'll tuck you in."

Poe

- such a sweetheart omg :(

- holds you in his lap with his arms everytime you try and scurry off to your bathroom after a meal

- unlike nikolai he WILL stop you before you even get the chance to throw up

Oneshot

Stopping you from b/p

He had just finished cooking dinner and had placed your portion in front of you, before sitting across from you and staring down at his own meal. Poe had never eaten much himself.. but tried to start eating more to be a good example when you told him about your 'mia.

You wanted to cry. You knew you were either going to shove this all down your throat in five minutes or you weren't going to eat any of it, and you knew he knew. "My love.." He starts, his voice soft. "Can you try? Just a small bite?" He mumbles, reaching across the table and piercing a piece of broccoli on your fork, holding it up to you.

You took a deep breath, and took the fork from him, placing the food in your mouth. You tried, so, so hard. You placed the dirk down while you were chewing, making sure to go slow and take your time tasting the food.

Slowly, with his help, you finished your meal in what you two would call a normal length, around fifteen minutes, but everything inside of you told you to runaway towards the bathroom, stick the back of a toothbrush down your throat and rid yourself of all these calories. "I'll be right back, Ed." Clearing your throat, you stand up and walk towards the restroom.

You heard him sigh and his hand caught your arm, causing you to turn around and face him. You let out a huff as he pulls you down onto his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist and keeping you there "I know what you're going to do." His voice was soft, and gentle, you hated & loved it at the same time. It comforted you but it also made you feel so.. small, like you can't take care of yourself.

All you could find yourself able to do was lean into his touch, muttering a thank you while you rest your head on his chest.

Dazai

I fucking hate him so much I want him dead I hope the next attempt works Dazai

- Another IGNORANT man although this time he'll probably try and act like he cares

- bro probably threatens to tie you to the bed to stop you from binging

- "You can't ruin your perfect physique by binging, 'donna." Little does he know that does NOT help

- He'll say similar things about purging though too so it's fine

- "Shouldn't purge either. You're gonna screw up that pretty little throat and then I can't use it for .. other things."

Oneshot

Catching you binge

You were on the kitchen floor, stuffing your face with the pan of brownies you had made last night. You had already downed a bottle of milk, a loaf of plain bread, dry oats shoved into your mouth by the handful, anything you could think of. You wanted, no, needed, as much as you could get.

You jump as you hear a key turn in the front door, followed by the door opening and closing before Dazai stood above you, a look of disappointment on his face, and was that.. disgust? You knew people thought bulimia was disgusting, but him? Really? Your loving boyfriend?

"Okay, bella. Let's get this cleaned up." He sighs, pulling you to your feet. You were frozen, you just stood there as tears welled in your eyes from the humiliation and guilt. You needed the throw up. You pushed past him and sprinted towards the bathroom, only to be caught by the waist halfway there.

"No, no, no." He tuts, pulling your back against his chest. "There's no need for that. Remember what I said about needing that throat to be ready? Yeah, it's not gonna be if you're vomiting." He looks at you with a sickly sweet smile and all you wanted to do was collapse on the floor and sob but his arms kept you there.

Eventually, he pulled you down onto the floor with him so you sat on his lap as he whispered sweet nothing's in your ear, while you cried wishing you could just vanish.

[reverie-starlight]

this one goes out to everyone who gets horrible back pain and big emotions before/on their period. aka me last month when I started this fic but was in too much pain to finish it lmao. notes from when I started it: get me a heating pad, a blanket and a hug stat. is it so wrong to want to be taken care of and babied a bit after doing it on your own for so long? I think not.

gn!reader that gets periods, no physical descriptions. extreme fluff.

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as soon as he got home, he frantically shimmied out of his jacket and shoes and made a beeline for your bedroom. he was worried about you- a fear that was founded on some text messages you had sent him about being in so much pain you couldn't even sit up properly.

upon entering, he was met with a sight that made his heart clench up a bit. he let out a sigh and made his way over to where you were curled up under a fuzzy throw blanket, scrolling on your phone. despite the discomfort he could see you were in, when you noticed him enter the room, you tried to smile and move to greet him.

he quickly crouched down by the side of the bed and stopped you from getting up. his hand moved to caress your cheek and he smiled at you in return.

"hey sweetheart," his voice was quiet and soft, knowing you were probably feeling too horrible for anything more than that.

he also knew that you probably needed (and wanted) lots of TLC. you usually did in the days leading up to your period and that was fine- he was always more than willing to baby you a bit, whether you were feeling poorly or not. "rough day?"

your smile fell at his words and a pout took its place. his heart clenched again, this time out of affection, and he silently scolded himself for thinking you looked cute while in crisis.

you nodded and nuzzled into his hand a bit. "hurts," you mumbled.

"what hurts?" he asked, running his thumb under your eye. your skin felt warm and he made a mental note to get you something cold to balance out the heating pad he could see peeking out from under the blanket and behind your figure.

you shifted a little and whined when a sharp pain shot through your body. his hand immediately went to your hip, trying to soothe you however he could. "my back, mostly. my thighs, too."

seeing you in pain was always one of his least favourite things. it was a monthly occurrence, so he should have been used to it by now, but he knew he never would be.

but if there was one good thing to come from your suffering, it was that he knew how to take care of you exactly how you needed.

he hummed at your response and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. "I'm sorry, my love. will you wait here for me while I get changed and grab some things for you?"

you cracked a small smile. "it's not like I could go very far without help anyway, so yeah, I'll be here."

he chuckled and stood back up, but before he could turn, you weakly grabbed at his hand. when he looked down at you, he wasn't surprised in the slightest to see a hesitant look on your face.

now that you had him, you didn't want him to leave, even if you did just say you were fine with it.

once again he sighed fondly and gripped your hand a bit tighter, crouching back down and pressing his forehead against yours. your eyes got a bit teary and he nudged his nose against yours. "baby, I promise I'll be back so soon. I'm just going to the kitchen and the bathroom to get a couple of things, and then I'll be over by the dresser where you can see me."

your lip started to wobble a bit and he frowned a little, feeling bad that he was the source of your sadness in that moment.

"but you just got here... please don't leave..."

fuck. he bit his lip. you sounded so dejected that it made him want to abandon everything and jump in bed with you, but...

"sweetheart... I promise I won't even be five minutes. I'll be back in no time, and then I'm going to wrap you up in my arms and work on making my baby feel all better, okay? but you need to let me go so I can come back."

you sniffled and nodded against him, reluctantly letting go of his hand and pulling the corner of the duvet up to bury your face into as a replacement for him.

he smiled down at you and pressed a kiss to your temple before quickly making his way out of the room. he made a promise for under five minutes and he intended to keep it.

from the kitchen, he got you a bottle of water from the fridge, and something he had hidden away from you for moments like these, just incase you got hungry later. then he made his way to the bathroom and tried to balance everything in one large hand as he got some pain meds from the cabinet before walking back out into the hall.

he checked his watch. two minutes to spare.

you visibly lit up when he walked back into the bedroom with everything in his arms, watching closely as he set some things down on his side of the bed. you put your arms out for him, but he just chuckled and shook his head.

"gotta change first, baby, I'll be right there."

you nodded a little, clearly getting impatient, but you didn't push him to hurry. instead, he felt the intensity of your gaze on him as he put on some sweats and took off his shirt. grinning teasingly, he looked over his shoulder at you.

"see something you like? you're burning holes in my back."

you didn't say anything until he moved to put on an old t-shirt. "leave it off."

he turned around and raised an eyebrow at you. "hm?"

you gave him an embarrassed look and turned your face away. "please leave it off... I just wanna feel you."

he nodded in understanding, not even thinking of teasing you further in your state of mind and tossed the t-shirt onto the chair in the corner of your room. sometimes skinship was just nice.

he got into the bed behind you as gently as he could so he wouldn't hurt you further, but then asked a favour of you. "my love, do you think you can turn over to face me?"

you nodded and slowly but surely shifted onto your back, taking a second to adjust, before moving again to turn on your other side. he smiled at you. "thank you, darling, I know moving’s not easy right now."

you pouted up at him in response and he shifted a bit as well, running a hand up and down your back to soothe you.

he formed a fist and started applying some gentle pressure to your lower back and you mewled as some of the pain was relieved.

“does that feel okay, my love?” he really tried to lay it on thick with the pet names- trying to be as sweet and attentive as possible.

you weren’t complaining one bit.

“feels nice… thank you.” you mumbled, pressing your face against his chest and throwing an arm over his torso.

he nuzzled his nose into your scalp and pressed light kisses in a line along the area. “I’m sorry you had to deal with this alone today.”

you shook your head against him. “it’s okay, it’s better now that you’re here.”

he trailed the hand that wasn’t focused on your back to your upper thigh, gently digging into the soft flesh and making you groan. “that’s amazing, thank you.”

after a couple moments of comfortable silence, he realized that you were trying really hard not to fall asleep.

“poor thing, you must’ve been exhausted all day, hm?” he slid his hand under your shirt and rubbed his warm palm over your skin, making you mewl and cuddle closer to his chest.

you nodded a bit and rested your cheek against his collarbone. “couldn’t fall asleep cause of the pain.”

he kissed your forehead kept smoothing his palm over your skin. “you can sleep now, baby, I’ve got you.”

you peeked up at him and he melted at the soft, sleepy look in your eyes. “you’ve got me?”

he nods and for the third time that day, his feels his heart clench because of you. “I’ve got you, you’re safe with me. just rest, you deserve it.”

“you won’t leave while I’m sleeping?” your words were slurred and he bit back a soft laugh that was bubbling up. he’s never loved anything as much as he has loved you. what a pleasure it’s been and always will be.

“I won’t leave, darling. I’m not going anywhere. ever. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

you seemed satisfied with that answer and finally let yourself succumb to the sleep you’d been denied all day. he knew you had it rough some months, and he hated that you had to endure it, but he was more than glad to be your main source of comfort during those times.

“sleep well, baby,” he kissed the top of your head one last time before you fully dozed off, still gently rubbing your back. “sweet dreams.”

KUROO, GETO, kirishima, sakusa, hawks, any and all of your favs honestly.

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(I fully wrote this with kuroo in mind, then I was like WAIT this really fits geto too, so that’s why those two are bolded and tagged. but it can be whoever you want 🫶🏻)

[brilium]

❥ K I N K T O B E R 2 0 2 3

Masterlist

➽──────────❥

❥ DAY 23. Costumes! with Eren Jaeger

Summary. Jean is throwing a halloween party that you and your best friend Eren are planning to go, but things seem to take other way when Eren helps you to tie up the corset for your pirate costume and you tease him for only buying a not so simple Ghost Face mask.

Content Warning. Fem! reader, no use of Y/N, all characters are adults, smut, vaginal sex, overstimulation, choking, small degrading, fingering, thigh (knee?) riding, dacryphilia, breeding. No proof read, might edit later.

Word count. 2,745

MINORS OR AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT !!

“Eren— Fuck! B–Be more gentle!” You say in a strangled whine as you try to hold the bath counter with a strong grip.

“I–I’m trying but—” He sighs, biting his lip as the veins on his arms start to pump up thanks to how hard he’s holding while the other holds your stomach firmly to keep you straight. “K–Keep like that for me, ‘kay? I’m almost done with you.” He groans, using all his strength to not let you escape the painful air in your lungs.

You nod, struggling to breath as you shut your eyes hardly while he finishes behind you and you finally let your chest release all the suffering.

“It 's done. The damn corset is tied up, is that okay?” 

Eren steps backwards a bit to let you see your reflection on the mirror and see the finished look of your pirate costume. You smile widely, looking at every angle of how well the corset fits you and you turn at him making small jumps on your spot.

“Absolutely! What do you think? Am I a intimidant pirate?”

Eren looks up after massaging his sore forearms, finding the front view of all his work tying the corset behind you: Your breasts look so fucking good pressed against each other and sneaking out slightly through the collar of your buttoned white shirt, and he’s not letting slip how also your skirt lifted a little, again, thanks to the hold of the corset.

He uses all his strength to not jump over you and rip all your clothes to only leave you in that corset to fuck you like a beast and just nods biting his lip as his eyes try to focus on the bath wall behind you.

“Eren! Look at me in the eyes and tell me if my costume is good! C’mon, I didn’t want to spend a fortune on a costume for only one night” You hit his arm playfully, and he snorted softly, looking everywhere but at you.

“Oh, you say that now? After how you joked about me by just coming with a Ghost Face mask?” He teases, walking out of the bathroom and lying in your bed and distracting his brain with all the lines on the ceiling to not let his hard crotch keep growing.

“At least you’ve could came with that kind of robe that he uses” You say, giggling as you sit beside him and play with the loose hairs on his forehead.

“Yeah, when I asked my mom if she could lend me one of her dresses for a party at Jean’s house you should've seen how her eyes almost went white.”

You laugh audibly, sending shivers through your best friend’s spine, 

Eren's plan was just to take a few drinks in your apartment before driving you both to Jean’s halloween party. That was the plan until he arrived and the first thing that you said was “Can you help me to tie up my corset?”

His brain is fully trying to focus on your words, on your talk about how your week went or something about a grumpy lady on the market. But his body acts against his will when his hand flies to your nap and brings your face down for a kiss.

You whimper at the contact of his lips, staying still at the first contact, but slowly melting into his lips as he starts to suck on your lips with a softness that makes you sigh against his lisp when you start to move yours.

Eren is ruining the gloss that you carefully applied on your lips while his hand on your nap makes a mess on your hair that you spend hours to let it dry and comb it to look nice. His heavy sighs and cologne are also having and effect on your body that is going to ruin all yourself if you let him keep going.

“Eren—” He shakes his head when you pull back, pushing your head down again to slam his lips on yours, making you whine softly against his lips even if you’re enjoying his taste. “Eren!”

You pull back with more strength, trying to straight above him while you support your hands on his chest to look at him all blushed and with dilated pupils.

Fuck, he looks hot. So damn hot.

But he’s your best friend.

“We should stop, Eren” You say, breathless and feeling your heart sink in your chest as you can’t look away from him, even if your phone is ringing on your nightstand. “We’re best friends, I— I’ll can’t see you the same if we keep going.”

Eren shrugs, not breaking the contact on your nap and starting to caress your neck with his fingers, sending tickles along your spine.

“Won't you see me the same way?” You nod, trembling above him. He thinks about it a little and sighs, looking up at the pillows and extending his arm to grab his mask, resting near to them. “And if I cover my face?”

You frown, looking at him with confusement. He surprised you by moving his hands to your waist and push you to the bed to lie on your back while he gets on his knees above you, straddling above you with his knees on the sides of your thighs and lifts his shirt above his head to take it off and show you his toned chest.

You swallow your saliva, feeling how your heartbeat starts to fasten while you see how his pectorals go up and down heavily.

“Fuck— Your tits look so much better with this position. I hope that this shit will let me keep seeing you clearly.” Eren groans while he puts on the mask to just let you see the iconic face of Ghost Face but with the difference that his body is the muscular body of Eren that you’ve seen a lot of times.

Especially, the detail that can’t let you forget who it is is his necklace. He never takes off  that necklace of a key that he never takes off, even if his father who he hates gave it to him.

But God, he looks so good like that.

Your core starts to get more soaked picturing the image of his necklace dangling above your face as he pounds on you.

Eren bends over you putting his hands on the sides of your head to look at you face to face— Or well, mask. You can hear his hard breathing through the plastic of the mask, but you're unsure of why only being able to look at that weird face makes you hornier.

“Is this better?” His voice sounds deeper through the echo, hypnotizing you with every word.

You nod desperately, bringing your hands to his chest to caress it up and down, passing softly the tip of your nails along his skin and receiving a sweet groan from him when you scratch it softly near to his hip bone.

“Can I be a little rougher?”

You nod, holding firmly his hips with your nails as his hands start to travel from your neck to your shoulders and resting on your breasts, giving them small squeezes. 

Fuck Jean’s party, you can even let Eren rip your mattress in half if it means to keep hearing his deep voice asking how much can he ruin you.

He makes you jump slightly on your spot when he grabs the sides of your white shirt and pulls at opposite sides to rip in in two halves that he tosses to the floor. You whine in response, looking down at the small pieces that remain on your chest that barely cover your clothes breasts with your bra.

Eren’s hands slide down to your back, giving you chills as his hands unclip your bra and you let him slide it along your arms to take it off and throw it somewhere.

“You shouldn't have helped me to put on the corset if you were planning to have me naked.” You smirk, trying to hold your moans when his hands go to your bare breasts and make you sigh in pleasure at the sensation of his cold rings against your skin.

“Oh no, Dear.” Eren smirks, moving a little his knee to be between your legs and rub it against your clothed cunt, breaking your hold to make you whimper as he keeps going, “The only thing staying in you is that fucking corset.”

Eren laughs softly when you start to bring your hips back and forth against his knee for more, moaning softly as he stops squeezing one of your tits to move it along your thigh and rub your skin up and down, enjoying how you squirm harder every time that his cold rings touch a little too close to your core.

“So whiny, so needy.” Eren groans, rubbing his knee harder against your folds, opening them slightly under the underwear and feeling the start of his thigh rubbing on your clit so softly but perfectly. “It could be that it turns you on so bad to be touched by a masked man? Fuck— You’re so horny that you’re even going to make a mess on my jeans and I’ve barely touched you.”

You bite your hand to hold your moan when his leg finds the right peace, making your body tremble as you squeeze your breast between your fingers as he keeps going.

“Mo–More— Please, Eren. More, ruin me more.”

Eren snorts behind the mask, bending closer and rubbing harder against you, getting your moans louder inside the four walls of your bedroom. He lets go of your breast to hold your jaw firmly to make you look at his masked face as he leans his head to the side looking at your blushed face.

“Yeah? Do you want me to be rude?” His voice is husky, you can notice how needy is also him.

“Yes—! Fuck, yes!” You plea, rubbing harder your core against him as you start to ride the warmth of your pleasure about to explode. “M–More!”

He laughs deeply before moving his hand to your neck and squeezes it with a strength that still lets you breathe with struggle as he moves back and forth against you until your hips get messier against him.

You’ve tried choking before, but never has turned you on as hard as this time, Eren’s necklace swings side to side while he keeps moving between your legs until your tears start to sneak out from the bordered of your eyes as your view gets blurrier between the water and his strong hold on your throat.

“You’re about cum, slut. I can feel it in the fucking mess that you’re making in my knee. Fuck—” Eren groans, breathing heavy while your moans fill his ears “Cum, cum like a good slut for me!”

You start to struggle to breathe as the orgasm hits you, letting out strangled moans as you sob his name while your hips shake and rub against him when you feel your folds creaming over your underwear and trespassing to his jeans.

You tremble and shake, still moving your hips against him to ride the orgasm as long as you can while his hold on your neck softens as he watches you trying to calm with your lips half opened and how your tits tremble softly as you breathe heavily.

Eren lets go of your neck to let you relax while you try to regain composure while he takes off his jeans standing at the edge of the bed. He waits for you to calm and surprise you again by holding your hips and pulling you closer to him.

You giggle when he pulls you, feeling like a doll every time that he moves you as he wants, but your laugh stops as soon as you see him naked in front of you and only wearing his mask.

Ok, now you understand a bit why he is so insistent on keeping on the corset.

Feeling like he just read your mind, he pulls down your skirt along with your underwear and tosses it to the floor. He grabs the behind of your knees to lift them and put your ankles on his shoulders.

You’re so exposed that it makes your cunt drip in need, even if there’s still one piece of cloth on your body it feels like you’re fully naked. 

“You look so hot.” His hand stops holding your ankle to rub two of his fingers up and down along your wet folds and makes you moan softly as you soak around his fingers. “Fuck— I’ve could tried everything, everything, just to not let anyone at that party see how hot you look with that corset.”

Your hips tremble everytime that his fingers tease you by pushing the half inside and pulling out to spread your fluids around your folds and clit. You want him, you want more than only his fingers.

“Eren… Just fuck me, please—” You moan loudly when his fingers get fully inside without resistance, clenching around him immediately and making you squirm on the bed, trying to hold the sheets between your fists.

“Should I?” His fingers curl, touching your sweet spot and making you roll your eyes, but you hold your insides to not let the orgasm hit you until you feel that aching cock filling you. “Why should I risk the image that my best friend has of me? Is it worth the risk?”

You hate him, you hate him so bad. As bad as you need him.

“Eren! Please, I was stupid, just fuck me, please!” You cry, feeling his fingers fasten his peace and the knot of your orgasm getting softer.

Eren pulls out his fingers and hits you insides with his cock with one stroke that fills you with barely pain due to your dripping walls. He feels so good inside: so hard and thick that your eyes start to tear up again.

He holds your legs on his shoulders with his hands to keep you all spreaded as he pounds fiercely inside you until his tip again finds the spongy spot that makes you squeeze him harder and starts to slam against it in a non-stop peace.

Your vision goes blurry, but you’re still able to see his mask glaring at you and turns your moans louder at the view of his necklace doing the opposite to what you expected, his almost glued to his chest with his sweat and it feels so much better than what you imagined.

For Eren, the view of your tits bouncing above the corset is gorgeous, they look so soft and bouncy, he would suck them until they’re all bruised if it wasn’t for his mask.

You both start to moan louder as the orgasm gets near, and you can’t keep holding when your cunt squeezes around his length with the second sweet orgasm that covers all your body as you cover him with your fluids. Eren keeps pounding with struggle through your strong grip on his cock, but at the same time helps him to ride his orgasm with your pussy milking him with every thrust and loud groans.

Eren keeps hitting a few times as his cum fills your cunt until  it’s dripping on the sides of his base and he pulls back slowly to let all his weight fall over you, making you cough and hit his sweaty shoulder.

You’re both sticky with sweat and cum, but comfortable.

“You’re too heavy.” You protest, pinching his arm.

“You’re too noisy.” He snorts, taking off his mask and throwing it to the floor to look up at you.

His forehead is sweaty and his hairs are glued to his face, the view makes you laugh softly as you clean him with the back of your hand.

“Yeah, clean it. I’m all sweaty on the forehead because someone was saying that ‘She couldn’t look at me the same’” He makes a lame high pitched imitation of your voice and you blush, hitting his forehead softly.

“Shut up! I’m also almost dying of asphyxia with how tight you tied this corset.”

“But your tits are so soft and squishy, just like a pillow” He says, rubbing his cheek on your breasts and making you laugh.

But, still, you both enjoy the moment.

Maybe trying to turning things a little different might be good.

@softlilpeachxx

[loveanddeepspacefanfic]

Sylus: living with you

Sylus x reader

🔞🔥🔥🔥🌸🌸

Sylus is like a brother! Synopsis:

He and his mom moved into your house. Your dad married his mom, so now you’re all living together, like it or not.

He’s old enough to be an adult but still stuck repeating his senior year of high school.

You’re in your second year of college and laser-focused on it, leaving boyfriends, parties—everything—aside.

He’s the opposite, always skipping class, coming home drunk. Most nights, you find him throwing up in the bathroom after some party.

In some ways, you hate him. Living with a guy like this—reckless, cynical, and a complete womanizer—is something you can barely stand.

***

One rainy day, your bus doesn’t show up. Your dad’s car is still in the shop, and there you are, sitting in the living room, desperately trying to call someone for a ride, but the cell signal is down. Missing class isn’t an option.

Sylus walks in from school; he has afternoon classes and usually gets home just after dark. He sees you, holding his helmet in hand, since he just got back on his motorcycle.

The room is dimly lit, with both your parents cozy in their bedroom, watching Netflix and enjoying the chilly weather.

—What’s up, sis? Something wrong? —Don’t call me sis! Stop being a jerk. My bus didn’t show, and I need to get to campus — you say, eyes fixed on your phone screen. —With that pout, I thought maybe you had a fight with your boyfriend. Oh wait, you don’t date, right? Annoying little nerd. —Shut up! If you’re not going to help, just leave me alone!

You move to the window, checking if the rain has let up, mainly to avoid looking at him. Sylus heads to the kitchen, pours himself a drink, and takes a sip with a smirk, setting the glass down on the table with a little thud.

He swings by his room, grabs another helmet, hesitates for a moment, and decides to approach you again.

—I’ll take you. Grab your stuff. —And who said I want to go with you? —It’s that or suffering in the rain. —I don’t need you! — you shout.

Fuming, you grab your bag, stuff it into a plastic bag, and storm out. Just before stepping through the door, you turn and yell:

—I’d rather walk in the rain than go with you!

Behind the door, Sylus swallows hard. He knew you were bold, but he didn’t think you’d actually go through with it.

You step into the rain, walking quickly, knowing there’s a chance that jerk might try to follow. Gritting your teeth, you hold back tears. The fury you feel at having him in your home, along with his mom, is overwhelming.

His cologne lingering in every room, his clothes and socks scattered everywhere, and his alcoholic mother trying to meddle in your private life—it’s enough to drive anyone mad.

Suddenly, you hear the rumble of his motorcycle. You pick up the pace, practically running. The headlights draw near as Sylus revs his engine and cuts in front of you.

You freeze to avoid getting hurt, your clothes and hair already soaked from the rain. Water pools on the asphalt, making your feet shiver with cold.

—Stop acting so stubborn and get on the motorcycle! Now! — he yells through the downpour.

—I don’t need you!— you shout back.

Sylus, losing his patience, gets off the motorcycle and picks you up with an unsettling ease, setting you firmly onto the seat. Startled, you adjust yourself, realizing how drenched you are.

— I’m taking you to that damn college. —No, I won’t go! I can’t sit through class completely soaked. —Then what do you want? Head home? The rain’s getting worse, so make up your mind already.

You hesitate, dreading the idea of your dad seeing the two of you arriving together. In your mind, Sylus is exactly the wrong kind of company. You’d promised your dad you’d keep your distance from him. Left with few options, you try to think fast.

—Just take me anywhere. You’re always skipping class-don’t you know somewhere decent where I can wait until it’s time for my classes? I don’t want my dad knowing I missed class. —Geez, so many conditions! Fine, just shut up and hold on!— he says, handing you a helmet.

You put on the helmet and try gripping the motorcycle’s side handle. But at the first speed bump, you instinctively reach for him, afraid of falling. Without meaning to, you place a hand on his chest, feeling his defined build and his heartbeat, which is racing.

He seemed tense, different. The feeling of his chest under your hand makes you swallow hard. You manage to pull your hand away, finally distancing yourself.

Sylus suddenly takes a sharp turn down a dark street. You know he’s into some questionable things, and it’s hard to imagine anything good coming from this.

But he surprises you. He parks in front of a small wooden cabin. It’s at the beginning of the road leading to the hills, a popular spot for tourists this time of year.

—What is this place? Some run-down shack?— you say, taking off your helmet and stepping off the motorcycle. —No! Believe it or not, it’s an Airbnb. I rented it earlier. It’s Friday, so I booked it for the weekend with some friends. —This is the kind of dump you hide out in on weekends with those lowlifes? —That’s none of your business, sis. —Don’t call me that!— you yell, raising a hand toward him.

Sylus catches your wrist mid-air, and the two of you lock eyes. He growls for you to get inside. For the first time, you decide to go along with it and step into the cabin.

Inside, you see it’s actually a cozy loft. The rustic decor gives it a warm, comfortable vibe—a hidden paradise behind the look of an abandoned wooden house.

—See? Not bad inside. From the outside, sure, it looks abandoned, but it’s cozy, clean, and the soft lighting’s just perfect.

You look at him in surprise. You’d never heard him string together so many coherent words before.

—You can go now. I’ll call you when it’s about time for me to finish class. —Your phone doesn’t have any signal. Remember? —Oh, right. Then come back around 10 p.m. You can go now. —You want to be alone by the highway? People will notice someone’s here because of the light. —When did you get so sensible? —Just don’t want to be blamed if something happens to you,—he says, mockingly.

You realize you might already be with the most reckless guy in town. Sylus has always been known to hang around with the worst guys. You swallow hard, suddenly aware you’re in a cabin in the middle of the woods with a guy nearly six and a half feet tall.

You sit on the bed, hugging your bag, unable to hide your discomfort. He notices your unease, snatches the bag from your hands, and tosses it onto a small table.

He pulls up a wooden stool and sits, facing the fireplace. The chill is settling in, so he starts a fire with surprising ease.

Silence hangs in the air for a long moment before he clears his throat. Still with his back to you, arms crossed, he begins to speak.

—Even though you hate having me around, I’ll take this chance to tell you some things. —If it’s to say something stupid, don’t bother. —I was against it— he says in a rough, intense voice. You huddle on the bed, deciding to listen. —I was against the marriage. But my mom was head over heels for your dad. I get that it must be hard, having two strangers in your house. —You don’t understand— you murmur.

Surprised, Sylus turns, glancing back at you. He sees that you’re far more hurt than he’d imagined.

—I understand more than I’d like to—he insists.

You realize you never really knew Sylus’s full story, so you take a chance, trying to start a conversation.

—How long have your parents been separated?

—My parents didn’t separate— he says, looking at you out of the corner of his eye.

You feel a jolt of discomfort but can’t bring yourself to ask anything further.

—My dad died when I was a kid. —I didn’t remember that. I’m sorry— you whisper.

—That’s not the point. The point is, my mom remarried almost right away—to a jerk. And I hated seeing that guy in my dad’s house— Sylus says, a deep bitterness surfacing.

—Sylus, please... I don’t want to dig into that. You’re getting upset!

Sylus tosses a few sticks onto the fire, taking a deep breath before looking back at you.

—Don’t worry. One night he drank too much and tried to hit my mom. I defended her, and he ended up falling down the stairs. Got what he deserved, you know?

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of each new detail he reveals. Despite everything, you’re starting to understand a bit more about what shaped his personality. For all his wild ways, he truly does protect his mom.

—There’s no need to be scared.

—How could I not be? You always seem involved with strange stuff. Your mom’s always getting called to school. Your friends are the worst. And now… you’re basically confessing you had a hand in your stepdad’s death.

—It was an accident, annoying little nerd. —This time just won’t pass… We hate each other.— you say, almost to yourself.

Sylus glances at you and, for a moment, considers how you’d react if you knew he’d slashed the bus tires so it wouldn’t pick you up for college. That he’d rented the cabin with the plan to bring you here. What would you do if you knew it was all intentional?

—Why are you smiling? —Doesn't it cross your mind that I might like you?

A jolt runs through you. Deep down, you’d suspected this conversation would come up eventually.

It was obvious from the way he’d sometimes look at you out of the corner of his eye. It was more than clear that he wandered around the house in a towel on purpose, or wore so much cologne just to get your attention. And it was obvious he hadn’t accidentally opened the bathroom door while you were in the shower.

That look wasn’t accidental. Nor was his tone when he teased you. The truth was, it was all very obvious, but you fought not to see it—because he was the last person you’d choose. The worst possible option.

Sylus steps closer and touches your face softly. He lifts your chin, tracing his thumb over your lips. You turn your head abruptly, avoiding his gaze.

—Are you ignoring me?— he whispers. — ...

Sylus takes your hand and slides it under his shirt, forcing you to stand in front of him. Shocked, you try to pull your hand back, but he grips your wrist, making you feel his rapid heartbeat. You close your eyes and grit your teeth, holding back any reaction.

—That night you took care of me when I was drunk… I wasn’t entirely out of it. You felt my heartbeat. You looked after me so our parents wouldn’t wake up. —What is this, Sylus?— you say, your voice trembling. —I think… something good came alive in me that night.— he confesses— My heart hasn’t beat the same since.

You swallow hard, trying once more to pull away, but this time he pulls you into a hug. The warmth of his body brings you an indescribable feeling of comfort. Slowly, you place your hands on his back, shyly returning the embrace.

—Stay with me. —Are you crazy? —I’ve always been— he whispers, his voice low and rough.

Sylus slides his hand through your hair, tilting your head back gently.

He kisses you intensely, and you can’t resist as his tongue meets yours.

With surprising ease, he lays you down on the bed, kissing you all the while as he slips off his black jacket, tossing it aside.

You try to push him away, but there’s no strength behind it. You want him—you want that scent of his on every inch of your skin. He trails kisses down your neck, whispering random words between them.

You murmur, half-heartedly trying to stop him, but he’s lost to the desire to have you.

He sheds his shirt in one swift motion, pulling yours off as well. Sylus leaves a trail of kisses over the exposed skin of your chest.

Before long, he removes your bra, pressing you against his chest, savoring the sensation.

He presses his body against yours, making you gasp into his mouth.

You feel his desire against your stomach, realizing there’s no turning back.

Your hands slide over his chest, helping him undo his belt.

With a hungry movement, Sylus lets his hand slip down, feeling just how ready you are for him. He growls against your ear, seeking your gaze for approval, desperate to end the torment.

You nod, and he enters you, filling you completely. His size makes you moan against his lips with each thrust.

Sylus alternates between slow, deep movements, bringing you both to a climax like two people starved for each other.

Sweat drips down his face as he bites your lower lip, savoring your last moans before collapsing beside you.

You both lie there, breathless, wrapped in each other’s arms. He kisses your forehead, whispering in your ear, his voice still rough:

—This isn’t a fairy tale… but if love exists, I think it must feel a lot like this.

[gravid-transluna]

A little prompt for you, if it tickles your fancy…

A mother-to-be is chilling at home on maternity leave. She’s been having contractions all morning and they’re gradually getting more intense and closer together. Not wanting to bother her partner at work at the first twinge of labour, she spends the day riding out the contractions until they’re close enough together to warrant the phone call.

Eventually they’re strong enough to steal her breath away, coming every five minutes for a solid hour, and she’s pretty sure her waters are breaking. Before making the call to her partner she pops in the bathroom to clean up and change, only when she goes to leave she finds the door is jammed. Well and truly completely stuck. With no phone and only a small latch window, our mother-to-be is stuck in the bathroom and dangerously close to pushing…

~ @shhhsecretsideblog 💜

words: 1177

content: inconvenient birth, fpreg

Absolutely delightful prompt, but then, I expect nothing less from such an incredible writer!

Working from Home

Cleo had been having a productive morning; despite starting her maternity leave a week ago, she had become attuned to remote work, her laptop balanced on her overdue belly, a ready supply of pillows to support her aching back and hips and feet. Even as her belly began to seize periodically, ramping up in both intensity and pace, she’d kept her focus on her work, not wanting to bother her girlfriend at work.

“Shhh,” she’d murmured to her restless womb, rippling with contractions severe enough at this point to make her gasp. “Let momma finish this email, maybe grab lunch.”

The next one had her doubled over her belly, clutching the armrest as she rode out the pain. She was having a difficult time sitting at this point. The pains had introduced a new sensation, intense in its own right: a deep pressure between her hips, weighing down on her cervix. She shifted, lifting her hips from the sofa with a low moan.

“Okay,” she panted at the end of the contraction, shakily removing her glasses to wipe the lenses on the edges of her sweater. “Okay, it might be time to make the call.”

As she stood, she realized that her yoga pants had trails of liquid running down them, and at her crotch a dripping spot had formed.

‘Shit,’ she thought. ‘That’s my waters.’

She knew her girlfriend would usher her to the hospital without letting Cleo get a word in otherwise. Messy tangled bun; sweat stains; belly hanging low from the hem of her once-oversized sweatshirt…. Cleo thought she could afford to freshen up before she went.

She waddled to the bathroom, with an awkward wide-legged gait. The pressure was getting nearly unbearable.

After rinsing her face she tugged down her sodden pants and as they dropped to the floor she suffered another hard contraction.

Braced over the counter, Cleo instinctively bent her knees and swayed her hips in slow circles. Her breathless grunt was punctuated by a sharp release of breath near the end.

The pressure was incessant, demanding. She was aware of a large mass, burrowed deep into the cervix, something she could only presume to be the head. It was getting to be so bad that she almost felt like—

Cleo shook her head. She reached for her phone, only to realize she’d left it on the couch by her laptop. She huffed. With the baby so close, even walking was an ordeal. Trying the knob, she found it didn’t turn. The door wouldn’t budge either. Tugging on it, throwing her weight back with an increasing sense of dread, Cleo realized that the door must be jammed. ‘Not now,’ she thought. ‘Please, not now.’ Despite her best efforts, the door remained shut. Turning, she scrutinized the window now. Maybe-? No. Without her massive belly, the squeeze might have been possible. Not now, though.

Cleo tried to remain collected. “Is it one? One-thirty, it must be. So if she gets off at three, then….” Two hours. She looked down at her protruding swell, swollen and almost misshapen with the size of her baby. Could she hold it in that long? She had to, if she didn’t want to give birth by herself in the bathroom.

The next contraction came with an enormous amount of pressure, nearly buckling her knees. She couldn’t help the groan that rumbled from her throat. It barely sounded like her own voice, deep and animalistic. Palming her clenched belly with both hands, she quickly waddled to the toilet, trailing fluids, and dropped heavily to the seat. Naively, she was hoping that the pressure and its accompanying urge was nothing more than a bathroom feeling. However, as the contraction reached its peak, the urge became undeniable.

She had to push.

She had to bear down, NOW.

Without thinking, Cleo was arching her back and thrusting her belly out and pushing hard on the toilet. She bellowed, red-faced with exertion, as the large round mass began to press downward, with slow force. Her knees sprang apart, struggling to accommodate the seemingly impossible width of the baby moving through her. As the contraction began to fade she was able to pull herself from her involuntary pushing efforts, and regain a semblance of control over her body.

She panted vigorously. Strands of dark blond hair clung to her damp forehead. Her glasses fogged with heavy breaths. Cleo knew she had little time before the next contraction, and spent it lifting her encumbered laboring body from the toilet seat to shamble to the window. Her fingers fumbled with the latch. Her belly felt so low and heavy, dense with pregnancy, almost ready to drop right off her frame. She managed to open the window, grunting as she was forced to strain on her tiptoes. Drawing in a breath, she began to shout.

"Help! Please! Someone, mmh, I'm trapped here and I'm in, ohhhh, I'm in labor---!"

Pressure was building again, splitting through her hips, her belly constricting into a tight ball of muscle. Her voice strained tightly as she shouted.

"Oh GOD, someone! P-please, I'm giving birth! I-I'm--- OH! I'm PUSHING!! It's coming, my baby's coming!"

Teeth gritted, palms to the wall, Cleo bore down silently again. Knees bending, dropped into a slight squat. She could feel it, moving down at an alarming speed. The stretch was immense. The weight was close to her opening, and by the time the contraction ended, she could feel herself beginning to bulge, the huge head lodged just before her lips. Trembling, cold with sweat, Cleo removed her sweater and threw it behind her before her knees gave out and she collapsed into all fours, instinctively needed to be lower to the floor, needed to be grounded as she focused on nothing but getting her baby out. She let her forehead rest against the cool porcelain tile. Her glasses clattered to the floor. One hand felt shakily behind her. Between her thighs her lips were bulging with the head, hot to the touch. She withdrew her probing fingers. They only confirmed what she could already feel, what she already knew, deep inside her, with the intuition of a birthing mother: the baby was coming.

All she could do was help it come. She raised her backside, lowered her shoulders. Readied herself on all fours for her first fully-involved push. When the contraction came she let loose a savage growl, pushing furiously, and felt herself beginning to open around the crowning skull. It was huge, fiery, overwhelming. Birth was all-consuming. She howled, with nothing else on her mind except expelling the baby from her body.

A light rapping at the window. Startled, nearing the end, Cleo glanced up. Her eyes with hazy with pain and primal urges.

A pair of startled eyes stared from the window. Her next-door neighbor.

"Miss Cleo---?!"

"Ah, ah.... hello. I need, urgh. Need to borrow your phone."

"For an ambulance?"

"No," Cleo shook her head, readying herself for the next contraction and another hard, groaning push. "My girlfriend. Gotta tell her, baby's almost here."

[tex-now]

Chameleon is the most ableist episode in all of Miraculous Ladybug holy fucking shit

this is all gonna be pre season 4 jsyk

Also serious note here, my words are not gospel. I myself am not physically disabled nor do I have severe enough disabilities that it requires specific accommodations. If anyone who has any experience with this has any input they want to add or wants to correct me on anything, you are more than welcome to.

Okay let's go

Immediately off to a bad start, Marinette is upset that she has to sit in the back because she doesn't want Lila to sit next to Adrien and no, this is not because she wasn't talked to about it beforehand, because when Adrien offered to sit in the back in her place Marinette adamantly refused.

And since Marinette really was causing such an unnecessary ruckus, (ill be momentarily ignoring that Lila was lying) she was making Lila feel bad for needing accommodations. Which is super fucked up of her. And also i distinctly remember Lila cuddling up to Adrien which made Marinette angrier but that's not in the transcript so take this with a grain of salt.

Okayyy the dreaded lunch scene. I have a lot of problems with this scene so I'll do the biggest one first: The fact that the narrative states that Lila is in any way benefiting from having a disability.

People carrying her lunch trays, getting her food, making sure she doesn't have to lift a finger because of her sprained wrist and treating it like shes benefiting from it is like. Atrocious on so many levels. Not only does it state that Lila is benefiting from having a disability but it also frames making accommodations for people with disabilities as being "used" in some way, which is why disabled people don't usually get the accommodations they need because they don't get "special privileges" or the people who should be accomodating them "refuse to play favorites." Horrible thing to teach children.

And then. The napkin scene. I'm gonna say it. Marinette is the fucking worst in this episode. She is being actively ableist here, assuming that since she had one bad experience with Lila being a liar, that she's lying about everything, including having a disability, which leads to her to try and "prove" that Lila is lying. Which is super fucked up.

She throws the napkin at her in order to prove that she's lying about having a sprained wrist, and since she doesn't like Lila this is an entirely okay thing to do ig/s. The reason why this scene in particular upsets me so much is because stuff like this happens in real life all the fucking time, and people have suffered because of it.

Neurodivergent and disabled people have to fight for accommodations or to be taken seriously, by literally everyone around them while neurotypical or able bodied people constantly brush them off or interrogate them in order to prove that they are disabled, and having the main character do someting like that and end up having her be framed in the right (eventually) is abelist as fuck.

The bathroom scene is also incredibly gross to me. Marinette corners Lila in the bathroom and LITERALLY SAYS (paraphrased) "I don't have the proof for it, but I know you're lying about your disability because you lied about being friends with a celebrity so therefore I get to be ableist as fuck towards you >:(" I don't think I have to explain why that's ableist.

Okay. The elephant in the room. Lila IS faking her disabilities. She IS pretending to have them in order to benefit off of other people. This is the biggest problem in the entire episode.

The narrative itself supports the idea that

1. People benefit from having disabilities

2. Attempting to "prove" that someone doesn't have a disability is okay

3. Making accommodations for people with disabilities is "using" the accommodating party in any way

4. Being ableist is okay as long as you're right in the end

And that is hammered in by this scene in particular. Marinette is being egregiously abelist throughout the entire episode and IS being the bad guy here but since the writer's need to make her NOT look like the bad guy turns out she's right Lila is faking everything and is evil lol/s

Its not just the characters themselves that are being ableist, the writing itself is so ableist that it is literally imbedded into the story of this episode and is essential in order for it to work at all. Which is a huge writing failure on the writer's part.

Okay I think I'm done. Is this coherent at all

Edit: Okay I think I failed to adequately criticize lila's part in this post. I think that what Lila did was egregiously disgusting and was incredibly uncomfortable to watch, but im not really sure what to say about it? I have thoughts on the matter yes but because Lila is such a nothing (until season 5/4 which I haven't really gotten to yet) character other than being Evil that it's hard to get frustrated with her in particular outside of my frustration with this episode in particular.

I'm very sure it's not clear so I'll say now: I like Marinette and hate Lila. But I also want to make sure that I'm criticizing the episode without my biases getting into the way, but I ended up going too hard on Marinette and not hard enough on Lila. Which. Is my mistake. Not that its anything to apologize for it's my post but I wanted to clarify

[wonijinjin]

enhypen members with a s/o who has migraines

author’s note: i don’t really get headaches, but many of my friends do so this may be inaccurate, but i still hope it gives you comfort

synopsis: what the title says

word count: 1.3k | genre: fluff, comfort | pairings: enhypen members x gn! reader | warnings: mentions of migraines, throwing up, fainting, food, diets

“baby, you in here? why is it so dark?” heeseung asked upon stepping into your beroom; curtains closed, lamp swithced off and you in bed greeted him. you explained that you had a migraine, voice strained and tired. “i am sorry to hear that you are suffering. tell me, how can i help you, my love?” he would ask with a sad face and would run around the house, doing everyting in his power to make your pain more bearable.

- he would be quite worried about your condition since he has never seen you be in this much pain, so the first time it happens he would be a little lost in how to help, hence why he would he following orders like a robot

- would get all the fuzzy blankets and wrap you up because he believes that sleep can solve everything

- bonus points for being great at humming sweet melodies to you so you could sleep more easily since the silence was too loud for you to deal with

jay knew something was wrong when he heard your whimpers in the middle of the night; when he saw you cluthing your head in pain he didn’t hesitate to pull you into his hold. “it’s happening again sweetheart? i am so sorry, i wish i could take it away.” he would kiss your temple, trying to rock you back into sleep so maybe the migraine would pass during the night.

- hubby material, he would research how to help after you told him that you get migrains easily, so when it happened for the first time boy was prepared, hot water bottles and painkillers in the nightstand cabinet ready

- makes you drink lots of water throughout the day because it helps with circlation and more oxygen getting into your brain so it passes quicker

- bonus points to him for massaging your scalp for long periods of time to give you some relief, even if his hands are already tired

when jake got a call that you had fainted thanks to your migraine he got really worried really fast, picking you up right away. “sweetie, shouldn’t we go to the doctors? your headaches seem to get so severe, i don’t think this is normal.” he would suggest while helping you sit down as soon as the two of you got home. when you said this was fine and this had happened before he got even more upset, swearing that he would be by your side every time this happened.

- like hee he is a bit of a clueless puppy aswell, needs you to tell him how these things work at the beginning, but after that he is the best nurse ever

- finds out eating a certain type of vitamins can help with the frequency of the migraines, and takes precautions by reminding you to eat them from time to time

- bonus points to him for ordering your favourite food when you are in pain, so at least you have a filled stomach (he thinks being hungry worsens the symptoms)

at first hoon doesn’t know you have a migraine since he finds you throwing up in the bathroom and thinks you have caught a bug. “oh pretty, at least you are not sick, it will pass soon, i know it.” he holds you after talking to you about the real cause, rocking you back and forward. he takes you back to bed and gives you painkillers to ease the discomfort, then would pour out water in a cup and some crackers in a bowl so you could refill the lost nutritions in your system.

- he has had migraines in the past so boy knows how exhausting they can be, making him the perfect boyfriend to treat you, being silent so he doesn’t disrupt you further

- he would be jumping around to provide the best circumstances to your rest, putting a cool pack on your head and elevating your legs so you get more oxygen flowing to your head

- bonus points for calling his mom to help him cook something for you to surprise you

sunoo was cuddling with you when he sensed how your muscles tensed in his hold, and how his shirt got wet by tears spilling from your eyes. “sunshine, does something hurt anywhere? tell me where it hurts so i can kiss it better.” he would whisper to you softly. upon you showing him silently how your head was the source of the prolem he placed a soft kiss onto the crown of your head, whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

- he is a very bubbly boy, and his emotions can always be read from his face so he is on full sulky mode, he might not be the most useful person to help you at first as he is occupied by being upset since his baby is in pain

- he is even more gentle with you while your migraines are active, so scared to even touch you because he is worried that he would do more harm to you

- bonus points to him for making a bubble bath for you and doing a skincare night aswell to pamper you a bit after your symptoms get better

when jungwon got a call from you that you couldn’t make it to the dinner date because you had a bad migraine he was immediately on his way to give you all his love. “cutie, i got you some ice cream, a bit of a cool treat for your migraine.” he giggled while he searched for you under the covers. “i will make sure my cutie has everything they need to make this bad headache go away, alright? so just tell me what you need.” he whispered while rubbing your back as you curled up into his warmth.

- he is very understanding regarding having to postpone programs and he is naturally worried about you more than a simple reservation

- tries to make you laugh to forget about pain by making silly jokes and showing you cute videos of cats on youtube (which works most of the time and brings you to a discussion about how he is just like a cute cat, you even forgetting that the migraine existed)

- bonus points to him for getting you the ice cream mentioned above along with many sweets even if you say you are on a diet

riki noticed how your movements were a bit sluggish compared to how you were very energetic every time you were in the practice room with him. “babe, are you okay? you seem to be under the weather. is it just one of those days?” he asked while capturing you in a bear hug from behind. when he found out your head was starting to hurt he ran to stop the music and tried to get you to sit down right way. “i have medicine in my bag, let’s get one in you with a little water, okay?”

- he is a baby himself, but he is a responsible person so his top priority would be getting you into a comfortable position as soon as you drink and eat something

- he would let you rest on him (which is rare snce is isn’t the clingiest on a regular day) and when you fell asleep he would silently whisper to whoever is above to stop your pain

- bonus points to him for having your migraine medication with him in a little pouch after the first time you get one in front of him, and reminding you to take some in advance if there’s a big change in weather or you have to work a lot in a short period of time to prevent them

[navstuffs]

Emptiness

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x GN!Reader

Summary: You are dead, and Leon wonders why he is still alive.

Warnings: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, long one-shot, leon is suicidial, suicide attempt!!, leon is depressive, MAJOR ANGST, abuse of alcohol, some usage of y/n, cigarettes/smoking, leon is a mess, SAD SAD SAD!!!, leon is suffering a lot, lots of pain, NO HAPPINESS!, dates in italic count since reader's death

Author's Note: idk, except i am sorry i like to make the characters i love suffer and share that on the internet? i made my husband read this, and he doesn't care about leon whatsoever, and he ended up upset for him at the end so you can imagine how this goes. i have more happy leon's fanfics, you can check it out here!

PLEASE, PROCEED CAREFULLY, AS THIS FANFIC DESCRIBES SUICIDE, SUICIDE ATTEMPT, DEPRESSION, AND ALCOHOLISM.

If you have been struggling with depression or suicidal thoughts, you are NOT alone! Here is a link for tumblr support for some helpful information, depending in what country you are! Seek help, you are loved, you are strong, you are wanted!

3 months, 27 days, 3 hours, 5 minutes

The first thing Leon notices when he wakes up is that he is cold. He isn't wearing a shirt, and for some reason, the blankets covering his body look dirty with some unknown substance. He groans, throwing the blanket on the floor. He still wears the jeans from last night, has no shirt on, and doesn't smell well.

The second thing he hears is his phone's ringtone. It had to be Chris. Or Claire wondering if he is alive. He sits up, his hand rubbing his face as a way to make the headache less.

The third thing Leon notices is his hand resting in the empty space of the bed. Your empty space on the bed. He gulps because he hasn't touched that part since returning to the house. He raises his hand as if Leon contaminated the area, the last pieces he had of you.

Leon glimpses under your pillow a very familiar black shirt. One of the ones he gave to you. Leon doesn't remember grabbing it last night. He holds it, checking if he got dirty, but the shirt seems clean. Leon takes the shirt to his nose, smelling it. 

His phone rings a second time breaking his trance. He gets up from the bed and sighs when he sees the nightstands filled with beer cans. You would have hated that.

When he finally finds his phone on the bathroom floor, Leon's headache worsens when he sees Chris's name.

"Yeah?"

"Fuck Leon, I was on my way to your house right now. You scared me, man."

"What do you want?" Leon isn't in the mood to talk, especially with Chris.

"Claire told me she went by your house last night, and you weren't there. She says the motorcycle wasn't there. Have you been drinking and driving again?"

Leon rolls his eyes. As if drinking and driving was a big problem for him now.

"Okay, mom, if that is all, then."

"Look," Chris sighs, and there is a long pause before he speaks again. "There is a mission. If you are still interested."

Finally, Leon thinks. He has been begging for one for weeks now, and Chris has always said "no," "next time," or "we shall see" due to his mental health situation.

"Yeah. When?"

"I will send you more details when I have it. Look, Leon, I just don't think you should—"

Leon hangs up without letting Chris finish. He scrolls through his lost calls, mostly all of them being from Chris and Claire. A few from Jill when she was trying to help. It got too much for her as well. Leon scrolls down even longer, finally finding your name.

Almost four months ago. Has it been that long? Two last calls.

As a ritual he repeats every morning, Leon clicks on your name, hearing the call go straight to voice mail. Precisely as he wanted.

Hi, this is Y/N, you tried to reach me, but I can't take your call now! Leave me a voice message, and I will contact you as soon as possible!

Beep.

-x-

 4 months

Jill Valentine is sitting in front of Leon inside the jet. She hasn't looked at him once inside the plane as they are being taken to a contamination site. Her eyes are distant, her form is tense, and Leon maybe thinks that time can't cure it all.

"Preparing to land," They hear in their radio communications. Leon rechecks his gun, wondering without significant interest if any of that would ever end. When he looks up, Jill is observing him.

"You ready for this?" She asks with a mild tone of curiosity in her voice.

You knew Jill longer than you knew Leon, actually. You were her best friend before becoming his lover. Jill had given Leon all the solemn talk of "Don't fuck up with my best friend, or I will kill you." After your passing, Jill had become somewhat like a ghost in his life. She tried, Leon wonders, if not for you, to give him support in the first two weeks, but Leon knew deep down she blamed him.

And she was right.

"Yeah," He answers.

Jill nods. The last time she had seen Leon, he was miserable. With the longest beard Leon has ever had, bloodshot eyes, hair a mess, drunk, and the smell of cigarettes around the house. She told herself she would try for you, but it wasn't easy to see Leon like that. And after she said you would hate it if he smoked inside their house and Leon grunted that you were dead and never coming back, she left without looking twice.

She never understood why Chris and Claire continued. Maybe because they knew him longer than they knew you.

The plane finally lands in a safe space, and they exit. It is in an abandoned industrial area this time, and they might have survivors who live nearby and might need help.

"Do not fuck this up," Jill warns.

"I won't."

-x-

1 month, 1 week, 2 days, and 5 hours

Claire Redfield is knocking on Leon's door. It is way past dinner time, but she brings pizza. From your favorite place. Claire knows he won't have eaten anything since Chris kept telling her Leon is losing weight. Since your death, Claire has tried to help Leon out as much as she could because she knows that is what you would have wanted, to no avail.

"Come on, Leon, I have pizza! I know you haven't eaten today!" She announces.

That's when her sixth sense starts beeping. All house lights are off, which is strange: Leon either left the TV or any light on. Leon didn't like the darkness. Claire tries to open the door but is locked. Leon never locked the door since he was back for this house. With her heart racing, Claire goes to her bag and grabs the reserve key. She shares one with Chris, and they both trade every week. Leon doesn't seem to care, not that he cares about many things lately.

She enters the apartment to complete silence. No sight of him anywhere.

"Leon?" Her voice is distant, as her hands are looking for her gun. Maybe someone invaded and got him? Perhaps something else—?

The air escapes from Claire's lungs when she sees Leon. Hanging from the ceiling.

"Leon!" She screams, running fast to hold his legs. She doesn't know what she is doing, she is calling for help, she is trying to get a chair, she is trying to hold his legs up so he can breathe. Claire doesn't dare to look up.

With one sudden decision, Claire gets her gun and shoots three times at the rope. Leon's body drops, and he is pale as a ghost. She kneels near him, feeling his pulse. There is still one, very light, but there is one.

Without thinking twice, Claire starts CPR, Stayin' Live by Bee Gees, in her head. She knows Leon will hate her for this, but she can't fail this. She would have hated herself, you would have hated her.

"Come on, Leon, come on." She begs desperately as she compresses his chest with all her strength. When Leon finally breathes, a small vigorous one, Claire is sweating on her clothes. She sighs, relieved, sitting down on the floor, drained.

She grabs her bag and finds her phone to call the emergency number, asking for an ambulance. That her friend attempted suicide. She gives them Leon's address, checking for his breathing. When Leon opens his eyes, he is confused. The last thing he remembers is kicking the chair away, the air escaping slowly from his lungs. He looks around, finding Claire's face in his peripheral view. She seems to be crying, her hands on his chest.

His blue eyes find hers, and Leon looks with hatred in her direction for the first time that Claire doesn't recognize him. She feels tears form in the corner of her eyes, and her lips shake, but she holds them back.

"I have called an ambulance," Her voice shakes, and Leon's stare carries so much weight that she must look away.

-x-

1 month, 3 weeks, 8 hours, 2 minutes. 

The hospital door opens, and Leon exits, carrying his duffel bag. After staying confined for almost two weeks, he inhales the fresh air. Those two weeks, instead of helping, just made him feel worse. Much worse. With no alcohol, no cigarettes, nothing, Leon had no way to forget. He woke up and went to sleep with your face on his mind.

Going through what he did wrong. What he could have done right.

He feels the pain sting his soul, thinking about your smile. Fuck, he needed a drink. He needed some sort of dubious mixed-up cocktail. The stronger, the better. When he looks to his left, he sees Chris Redfield standing.

Sighing, he walks toward Chris. Leon knows he won't be able to run away. Chris has a worried stare as he gets closer. To be honest, Leon thought he should have hated after what he did to Claire, but no, Redfield still manages to give him a small smile when Leon gets close.

"Hey."

"Who told you I was going to leave?"

"Mhm, the hospital? You are in my care for the next couple of weeks."

"I am going home." Leon starts to walk away from him, but Chris's arm stops him.

"No, you are not. As I said, you are in my care. And if I need to drag you to my car and make a scene in front of all those people, I will. What do you think?"

Leon hates how Chris can look like you so much regarding his care. Always to drastic measures, you both could say. Pretending to have given up, Leon holds his hands up as a sign of defeat and follows Chris to his car.

"Is...Claire okay?" Leon mutters as Chris starts the car. Leon can see Chris hold the wheel stronger than he should, but the moment passes, and Chris answers.

"She is worried sick about you. She has been...busy, that is all."

Leon knows that is a lie. He had seen Claire on one of the visitations day, and she seemed upset like she had been crying every day since she found him. Leon felt guilty Claire was finding him (he thought someone else would) and was outraged when she saved him. And he ended up lashing out at her. When Claire tried to argue during the visitations that is what you would have wanted, Leon roared that he never wanted to see her again.

To be honest, Leon is relieved. One less person for him to hurt. Chris, well, that one was hard. Leon knows he isn't giving up that easily. Especially after the last thing he said to you was that he would protect him during a mission.

"No, no, Chris, you don't understand, he bikes around without a helmet and thinks that is super cool? I mean, how old is he again? You better keep your eye on him, if I am not around. Got it?" You asked, winking in Leon's direction. He knew you were teasing him, but Chris's tone was serious when he answered.

"Loud and clear."

In the first three weeks after your death, Chris was there. He rummaged through the house, taking everything Leon could use to harm himself. Leon's guns were the first to go, Leon didn't know how he discovered the password, and honestly, he didn't care. He just woke up a day with them gone. Knives? Gone. It was like Chris was baby-proofing the house. 

Leon would have lost much more weight during that time if it wasn't for Chris insisting on him eating. Or hydrate. Warning if he got too weak to take care of himself, Chris would have made sure to strap him to a bed and kept him there against his will.

"There are cigarettes in the glove's compartment," Chris says, cutting his line of thought.

Leon looks at him with suspicion before opening. Chris wasn't lying. There is even a lighter there.

"You smokin' now?" Leon asks out of curiosity.

"No. I bought those for you."

Leon lights up a cigar, opening the window. The rest of the car ride goes silent, and when they finally arrive at Chris's house, he turns off the car, sighing.

"Look, Leon. I am not very good at this, and you know it. You will stay with me as long as you want, but I can't keep you a prisoner in my house."

Leon observes him, and Chris takes the courage to finally say it.

"No one wants you dead, Leon. What happened to Y/N, it wasn't your fault. And you need therapy."

Leon gives a humorless laugh, opening the door of the car.

"You are not bad at this, Chris. You are terrible at this."

-x-

4 months, 1 day, 5 hours

Ada Wong is good at her job. She does what she is paid to do when she needs to do it. No feelings attached, except, well, when Leon Kennedy is involved. It had been like this since the events during Raccoon City.

And then, suddenly, you appeared on his side during the events in Spain. You were something else, for sure. Standing by his side, remaining strong, although that was your first mission, or so Ada heard. And facing up her, determination in your eyes. Ada found you adorable, perfect for Leon. The loyalty, in your eyes, was something she could never demonstrate.

The man in front of her now was just what once was Leon Kennedy, her..."ally" from the other side. Ada had to admit she was shocked when she first saw him, barely recognizing him. Leon had big dark bags under his eyes, not as strong as he once was. And there was...no life in his once vivid blue eyes. Nothing.

"Ada Wong. Doing something for yourself again?" Leon asks, his voice monotone.

Ada was used to his hostility, mistrust, and even anger. But not that complete apathy, a complete lack of emotions. Leon Kennedy was dead, she was confident, and he died when you did.

"You know I don't share my secrets, big boy," She says, her tone the same as always. "But we can always find common ground, as we always do."

Leon nods, and Ada tells herself she shouldn't care, she shouldn't ask. But she has never seen it like this, and this Leon frightens her.

"I have heard about Y/N. My condolences."

Leon's eyes go wide with surprise. He looks at Ada as if she has just arrived from outer space.

"Is this one of your schemes? 'Cause if it is, cut the crap, I am not in the mood."

"It is not. I heard about what happened." Is Ada Wong really showing empathy? Leon blinks, surprised, but he shakes his head. No, it has to be one of her tricks. Since when did Ada start caring about him?

"Shut up, Ada. Do not mention this ever again. We are here for a mission, nothing else, nothing more. Stop pretending you fucking care." Leon's voice is low, and Ada doesn't say anything as she watches him walk in the dark corridor before her. She has known him long enough to know when he is being serious, and she knows he is threatening her life now.

Ada sighs. The Leon Kennedy she once knew, was gone. You left a carcass behind, a damaged man for the rest of his life. Ada still remembers the last thing she said to you, before she disappeared.

"You are truly special. Take care of him."

-x-

1 minute

"Is Mr. Leon Kennedy speaking?"

Leon stops when he answers his phone to a strange voice. 

"Yes? Who is this?"

"Mr. Kennedy, this is from McKenney Hospital. Could we speak with you in just a moment? Are you busy or driving?"

"No. Hospital, you say? What is going on?"

"We just need a moment of your time. Do you know Y/N L/N?"

Leon's heart starts bumping against his chest.

"Yes. What about it?"

"Y/N L/N was involved in a car crash today, sir. At this moment in time, they are doing surgery on them."

"What? No, excuse me, ma'am, this is some mistake."

The gentle voice behind the phone silences as she listens, Leon saying you weren't involved in an accident. It was impossible. You were coming to have dinner with him later, you were going to forgive him, you were going to be back together just fine. When Leon shuts up, the voice speaks again with much more compassion.

"You are tagged as their emergency contact, Mr. Kennedy. How long can you get in here—"

"I just fucking told you, lady, that is impossible, they are coming to have dinner with me, we are supposed to reconnect, and you aren't listening to me!" Leon screams the last part, punching the counter before him and making all the glass bowls in the counter jump. 

The compassionate voice waits to speak again in a much more determined tone.

"Mr. Kennedy, I suggest you come to the hospital, not alone. Come with a friend. We will answer all your questions and concerns when you get here. Just don't come alone."

Leon turns off the call, pissed. How can the lady be so stupid? He told her over and over again you were on your way to his house, your house. Leon had been cooking the whole night, preparing your favorite dinner. After that, he would never let you away from him ever again. He breathes deeply now, trying to ease the tremors on his hands, when he lets his eyes wander off to the TV, a news broadcast about a terrible accident that happened. Some drunk driver caused this accident that involved a with a truck oil tank, and five people were killed. Many injuries reported.

Without thinking twice, Leon grabs his motorcycle's keys.

He doesn't know how he got in one piece in the hospital. Something inside him tells him to call Jill, Claire, Chris, or someone, anyone, but he doesn't. The hospital's entrance is chaotic, with most victims being taken there since it was the closest location.

Leon asks your name to the front receptionist, and they say they are operating you now. The lady points to the waiting room area, where Leon waits. Leon had felt fear many times in his life, but nothing compared to this. He knew you were strong. Stronger than him, actually. You were brave. You were getting out of this.

Because he didn't know how to live without you.

Leon observed families getting good and bad news for what seemed an eternity. The death toll climbed to more two people, a mom crumble in the doctor's arms due to the loss of his son and husband. Leon was praying, begging for some higher force or anything for you to live.

He would never drink again. Leon Kennedy would never let the darkness inside him win and let you go. He would never doubt himself or his ability to love. No, Leon would love you even more intensely than he already did, more than anything in his life.

Leon takes a while to get up when the doctor finally calls his name. He feels sick, his stomach is twisting. He counts nine steps until he gets to the doctor, a lady with scrubs and an indecipherable face.  

"Mr. Kennedy, do you want me to take you to a more private room?"

"Tell me."

The doctor sighs, looking directly into his eyes when she says. 

"We did everything we could, Mr. Kennedy. I am sorry they didn't make it."

No. 

"I am sorry, Mr. Kennedy, I truly am."

No. NO! NO!

"Mr. Kennedy, please, don't, I am sorry. Can I get some help over here? Please, don't do this!"

It takes six or seven security guards to stop Leon from destroying the waiting room or even hurting someone. He is crying, he is begging, he is losing himself. It couldn't be true. It just couldn't. It was unfair: not after everything he had done or everything you went through together. He always told you he needed to die first because Leon knew damn well he couldn't live without you. Leon has a hole in his chest that will never close again. He feels someone pull his sleeve up, a pinching sensation, and Leon falls into darkness. 

[idiswhadidis]

-- spa night

bf jungwon x fem. reader

sypnosis: Jungwon agreed to have a spa night.

genre: fluff - warnings: a makeout session

a/n. i'm surprised by myself of how fast i wrote this, i think it took me about an hour a record when i tell ya. anyways i got to this idea when i, myself had a spa night lol, hope you enjoy (:

how could this escalate? you both just watched something on TV and now you‘re having out of nowhere a „spa night“.

boy knows he‘s a fool for you but he forgot that you got him wrapped around your finger that he actually agreed to this.

looking into the mirror trying not to laugh at himself smacking his arm,

„stop laughing would you, or the face mask will fall off“ 

„says the one who’s laughing in my face since 5 minutes straight“

him staring at his reflection seeing the unicorn headband not letting hair into his face and the face mask which represents a panda making you cackle again, trying to control yourself you take a deep breath

„…you look gorgeous, now lemme put these on your eyes“ you smile wiggling the two slices of cucumber in your hand, him grabbing both of your wrist to stop you

„you‘re not gonna put cucumbers on my eyes“

„yes i will“ you smile at him with the most innocent eyes his weak point

sighing in deafeat and letting go of your wrists having the green light to do whatever you wanna do to him

putting the two slices on his eyes wondering how they don‘t fall off? 

„and is it relaxing?“ 

„oh yeah, never felt anything more relaxing in my life“

„good cause now your lips will be next“ completely ignoring his sarcasm.

„the hell? don‘t tell me lip masks exist?“

hearing ripping of a package his question just got answered..

„close your mouth so i can put it on“

but not before leaving a small peck on his lips letting him grave for more as he try’s to follow your lips

putting quickly the lip mask on, bursting into laughter making him groan

„Jungwon i‘m sorry but this is too funny you should see yourself“

taking your phone you take a photo, not so good is you have the sound on letting him now you took a photo <3

him grabbing the cucumbers of his eyes glaring at you while you smile sheepishly at him taking few steps backwards 

looking at his own reflection real quick shaking his head trying to not to laugh as well pulling of the lip mask but still keeping the panda mask on?

„i think it‘s your time to do your so called „spa night“ 

shaking your head, janking the door handle down and dashing away 

hearing fast footsteps behind you making you walk faster around the couch, him on the other side staring at you like a predator

„it‘s only fair to let me do it now“

shaking your head „i‘m fine thank you“

narrowing his eyes at you and climbing over the couch too fast that you can‘t run away on time

catching you in his arms and throwing you onto the couch, legs on each side of your body your arms held by him completly trapped

looking at him got you giggling again making him smile when he suddenly starts,

„you know, i‘m so in love with you i would let you do anything with me as you can see“ 

making you melt, looking into his love-strucked eyes 

grabbing his neck bringing his face closer to yours whispering against his lips „i will always love you more“

crashing his lips on yours, hand on your waist going underneath your top gasping from his cold hand on your skin letting him stuck his tongue into your mouth.

catching your breaths after awhile, staring at him and taking the mask off reminding him why you‘re in this situation, him standing up letting him sit you up and throwing you over his shoulder,

„hey!“

„i‘m not gonna let this night go by until i got my revenge“ him patting your bum while walking into the bathroom to continue where you left off but now it was your turn to "suffer".

idiswhadisis on tumblr. do not plagiarise, repost, copy or translate any of my works.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Don't Speak 37

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, allusions to abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: Get ready for Andrew Barber's masterclass in manipulation.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

Your disbelief gives way to panic. You gulp and gasp for breath as you collapse onto the carpet, hugging yourself as you sink into horror. You’re repulsed by your own body, trapped in your own skin. A monster. Just as horrible as you always suspected.

Selfish, worthless, thoughtless. Your doubts calcify to certainty. You are a bad person.

But you don’t want to be. You never wanted to be. How can you be so terrible despite your best efforts? You have to be better. You have to try harder.

You heave and lift yourself on a shaky arm, rubbing your damp cheek as you sniffle and look around. Your head throbs but you won’t be sleeping that night. The violent churning in your stomach won’t let you. You don’t deserve to rest. You have too much to do.

You get up on tremulous legs. You find it hard to balance as the swirling haze of wine turns to a groggy pulsing in your temples. You massage them as each step sends a thump through your skull. You try to shake it off but it only gets worse.

You move carefully. You did this to yourself. You drank even after Andy warned you not to. You ignored him all day like a spoiled child. You did whatever you wanted and then you… hurt him.

You start with the kitchen. It’s already tidy from Amber’s help but you wipe down the counters to be certain, then you get out the mop, leaning heavily on it as you sponge the tile to sparkling. You move on to the dining room; surfaces, floors, and even the curtains. You sus out every speck of dust and dirt.

You find yourself sitting, folded over as you cradle your head and catch your breath. You’re weak and shaky but you keep going. You get up and return to the front room. You give pause before the couch, the throw pillows knocked this way and that, one on the floor. You tidy them and refold the blanket on the back neatly.

It’s too late to vacuum but you do your best to sweep around the edge of the carpet. You go to the mantel and straighten the ornaments that seemed to distract Steve that day. You stop at the thought of the doctor and nearly sob. What do you tell him? How do you tell him what you did? He would know what you are. What would he think?

Your teeth chatter despite the warm air. It’s not the temperature but your own fatigue that sets you to shiver. You carry on, making a careful progress through the large house. You suffer over every inch. You don’t know how else to show your remorse but to make everything perfect. Everything but yourself. You will never be perfect, you are inextricably broken.

The dawn rises and you let yourself rest in the bathroom. You rinse your face in cold water, trying to wake up. You take some painkillers for the beating in your skull and grip the sides of the sink, weary and worn.

A flicker catches your eye. You glance over at the white shower speaker. He must’ve replaced the batteries. You stand straight and roll your shoulders back. You’re not done. You will never be done. This task, not the cleaning, no, but you, trying to fix you, that’s something you’ll always have to work on. 

You go back to the hall and stop short. You peer down towards the bedroom door; Andy’s. It’s silent and the edges are dark. You shudder out a breath and cross to the guest room. 

You enter the solemn space and search for a new outfit. You pick out something he bought for you, that you know he’ll like. You tuck a white blouse into the brown corduroy skirt that buttons up the front. You match the outfit with a pair of stockings to warm your tingling legs.

You emerge, feeling stronger but hardly better. You descend the stairs, his silence and the stillness of the house suffocating you. You drag your feet into the kitchen and tie the apron on as you begin. You take out one of the cookbooks and search for the perfect breakfast.

The hours pass swiftly as you set to work. You focus on each ingredient, each step, as you put together the pieces. A quiche with the most perfect savoury crust. The scents rising around you tug on your stomach, the dregs of wine leaving your stomach barren and acidic.

You brew coffee and put together a tray. A mug, a plate of quiche, fruit salad, napkins, and cutler. You balance it all and turn to the long journey upstairs. It feels like a treacherous path. You fear you might not reach your destination and you wouldn’t be surprised if you’re turned away.

You stop at Andy’s door, like the gates of some vaunted castle, and swallow down your fears. You knock with your foot, careful not to cause too much of a clatter. No answer comes as you stew in the silence of the large house.

You turn your shoulder to the door and lean in, “Andy?”

Your call wilts into the still air and you wait. You clear your throat and try again, speaking louder this time. The crackle of your voice is harsh amid the empty lull. You listen, a rustle coming from the other side, and a sniffle. 

Your heart catches in your throat as you face the door head on. The lock clicks as the handle turns back and a small slat of space opens between the edge and frame. Your eyes meet Andy’s single on, peeking out sheepishly.

“Good morning,” you try to be chipper, “can I… I brought you breakfast.”

He stares and blinks. His gaze falls to the tray in your hand. There’s a glisten across his iris.

“Andy,” you sniff, “I’m very sorry about last night.”

He closes the door and you stand dumbly in your dejection. You look down at the tray. You’re stupid to think food could solve the problem. That you could ever apologise thoroughly for your offence. You can’t take back what’s been done.

You take a step back but stop again, the tray rattle treacherously as the handle twists back again, this time with more force. Andy still wears the same clothes as the day before. His hair is dishevelled, his beard with short shanks jutting out at the chin, as he keeps his face down. With slumped shoulders, at a slight angle, he stands back.

“We can talk,” he utters in a fractured timbre. He sounds like he’s been crying.

You bow your head and step into the room. You go to the console table and lay the tray there as it starts to shake with your nerves.

The bedsprings compress as he sits with a heavy sigh. You keep your back to him as you try to sort out the pangs in your chest and stomach. You turn slowly on your heel. As he sits on the side of the bed, the glare of the lamp illuminates his features and the dark bruising along the left side. His eye is almost entirely swollen shut.

You gasp and cover your mouth. He keeps his eyes down meekly, as if trying to hide. You can’t believe you did that to him. How could you have done that? With just one hit?

“I’m so sorry,” you creak out through your dry throat, “Andy, I’m so so sorry. I didn’t mean to– I didn’t sleep all night, I feel so rotten–”

“Enough, dove,” he hisses, “enough.”

“Please,” you beg as you step forward only for him to flinch. You stop and clutch your hands in front of your chest; he’s afraid of you.

“I…” he begins and swallows thickly. He shakes his head and reaches to brush his fingers through his beard, only to wince again. “I… I love you, dove.”

Your eyes gloss as you watch him. You see how he musters his strength to look back at you. Never had anyone looked at you like that. Afraid. 

“I love you, too,” you eke out.

“So…” he quavers and clears his throat, “so let’s move past this.” You see him struggle as he grips his thigh and forces his posture straight, “I won’t make you mad again and you won’t hurt me, right?”

It’s like a punch in the gut. You could keel over right there.

“I wouldn’t ever–”

“You did,” he insists, “dove, it’s not that you hit me, it’s… you broke my heart last night.”

“I’m sorry, I really am–”

“Sorry… doesn’t always fix things. I can’t forget last night, but if it doesn’t happen again, I can live with it,” he utters each word as if it hurts, “promise, dove, promise you won’t ever hurt me like that again.”

“I promise,” you spit out desperately, “please, I never meant to hurt you. I wouldn’t ever– Andy,” you bring your hands around your throat, trying to pry away the invisible fingers squeezing you, “there’s something wrong with me. I want to fix it. I… someone hurt me…and maybe that’s why…”

“I understand but it isn’t an excuse,” he reproaches, “you can break that cycle, that’s why you go to therapy… I’m starting to think that’s not working though.”

“N-no, it is– I–”

“Have you told Steve about who hurt you?”

You reel and shake your head, digging your nails into your own throat, “no…”

“So how are you fixing yourself, dove?”

It’s an accusation. That softness is gone and the razor is back in his voice. You frown and shrug.

“I’m trying–”

“Not hard enough,” he says, “look at me.” You do, you see the purplish blue bruises and his swollen eyelid. You see what you did. “If this happens again, you have to go. We can’t stay together. I won’t let you…” his timbre turns sandy and lowers his chin, “do what my ex did to me.”

He sniffles as he hides his face. Your heart clenches and you slowly inch towards him. Before you can get to him, he stands and staggers around the bed. You freeze as he clamours into the attached bathroom and the light flicks on. The harsh yellow blaze shines into the bedroom.

You daintily pad around after him and stop just before the doorway. He grips the frame of the mirror as he looks at his reflection. Tears trickle out down his cheeks and he looks down, gulping tightly.

“I didn’t… I didn’t look before,” he wipes his nose, “Dove, I couldn’t…”

“I’m so sorry,” you murmur, “I… I’ll leave. I’ll…” you blink furiously at the thought. Where do you go? You can’t go back to Amber, she doesn’t deserve someone like you. “I’ll go–”

“Where?” He asks.

You don’t have an answer.

“Then I’m the bad guy,” his words grit, “no, we’ll… work on it. Promise, dove, promise you’ll do better.”

“I will, I swear,” you plead, “I… will you eat breakfast?”

He flinches, slowly turning his head to peek at you, “breakfast?”

“I… I wanna take care of you. You need to eat. I… I made it for you. Special.”

His lashes flutter and he looks down at the sink again. He nods as if steeling himself. He pushes himself straight. 

He turns to face you completely but before you can back away, not wanting to crowd him, you’re swept up in his arms. He hugs you to him, smothering you in the scent of his sweat and deodorant. You lock up as you let him squeeze you.

“I couldn’t sleep without you,” he whispers as he rocks you with him, “as much as you hurt me, I couldn’t. Dove, I need you.”

You slowly bring your arms up and wrap them around him. You feel how big he is. For a moment, you’re in awe that you could ever make him so afraid. You? How? His strength tightens around you, tight enough to force the breath out of you. Tight enough to break you if he wanted to.

“I didn’t sleep either,” you confess.

🕊️

You clean up the tray. The shadow of the previous night looms over you but you try not to let it consume you. The plate is clean but for a few crumbs, the fruit salad was quickly snapped up, and Andy is sipping his second cup of coffee as you lift away the remnant of his breakfast.

“That was good,” he praises over the brim of his mug.

“I’m glad you liked it. Happy you ate,” you say as your own stomach growls painfully. 

“I got you to take care of me,” he smiles even as his cheek ticks. You’re both thinking of the unsaid, trying to ignore the ghost in the room with you.

“Can I–” you focus on his mussed hair, an unusual sight, “can I run you a bath?”

He seems taken aback. He tilts his head and sips again. You hold the tray in front of you, fearing his rejection.

“Of if you need space…”

“No, that would be… nice,” he rasps, wetting his throat with the coffee before continuing, “dove, I’d love a bath,” he licks his shining lips, “with you?”

Your mouth falls open and your eyes round. It isn’t just the idea of sharing the tub, but the hope of his offer. It isn’t forgiveness but it’s a start. He’s not casting you out.

“Y-yes,” you squeak, “y-yeah, I’ll go… I’ll go clean all this up and get the tub going.”

“Honey,” he pats his stomach in content, “you’re so good to me.”

You can only nod. It’s another reminder. You weren’t good to him last night. You paint a smile on your face and step back on your heel.

“Let me just get this to the kitchen–”

“Don’t I get a kiss?” He prompts before you can back up.

“Oh, uh, yes, I’m sorry, I didn’t…” you carry the tray closer, “I didn’t know if you wanted… one.”

“Always, dove,” he leans over and offers his puckered lips. You give him a peck as he hums. As you draw back, he purrs, “perfect.”

Your smile quivers on your lips. He watches you as you glance down at the tray. It’s awkward. It’s going to be for a while. You won’t ever forget this. He accepts you, even the bad parts. Even when it hurts.

“Love you, dove,” he says.

Your eyes flick up to meet his, “love you too… honey.”

His face brightens, “I like that,” he beams, “when you call me honey.”

“You do?” you bat your lashes.

“It’s like a song,” he says and teethes his lips, his eyes drifting away from yours, “beautiful like the rest of you.”

You squirm and squeeze the tray. You slowly turn away, the empty dishes rattling with you. The knot in your chest just won’t untangle. You want it to be alright but it still feels so wrong.

[flowerandblood]

Glass Cuts Deepest (2)

[ professor! • Aemond x student! • female ]

[ warnings: angst, trauma, mention of sexual harassment, violence, swearing, self-destructive behavior ]

[ description: A female painting student is finally able to choose the specialisation she has dreamt of - stained glass. She wants to become a student of the best specialist in this field, but he, for some reason, refuses to accept female students into his workshop. She finds out that he once slapped a female student of one of the other professors. Nevertheless, she makes an attempt to find out what happened then and to convince him to teach her. Slow burn, sexual tension, dark, agressive Aemond, great childhood traumas. ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He woke up suddenly pulling himself up to sit down, breathing loudly, his heart pounding so hard he thought he was dying. He looked around − he was alone in his bedroom, his room in semi-darkness, it was barely dawn. He swallowed loudly feeling his sweaty t-shirt stick to his back and ran his hand over his face, trying to calm himself down.

Every time he thought he had got over it, it all came back to him in nightmares.

Embarrassed, he found that his legs were shaking as he rose from the bed, heading towards his bathroom to take a shower. He stood under the rain of warm water and leaned his forehead against the wet, tiled wall, trying not to think about it, to push it out, to forget it.

He tried to focus on his classes, on the fact that he had to prepare, on the fact that his midterms were coming up soon as well as the deadline for his stained glass windows for his next church.

He needed to focus on his work.

He went to his workshop earlier than usual, taking only a cup of coffee with him, knowing that he wouldn't last alone at home anyway, with only one thing on his mind.

He felt like he was about to throw up and stopped for a moment, clenching his eyes shut. He swallowed loudly, acknowledging that the feeling had passed, and clicked the light switch on the side of the table, the pieces of glass he had cut earlier lit up in bright, intense colours.

He thought that although the glass had hurt him so many times, cutting his hands, in the end it rewarded his suffering with a beautiful final work that he hoped would last for centuries. In this case, he thought, his physical harm had a purpose, it was almost noble.

Unlike what had befallen him then.

He pressed his lips together at the thought, feeling sick again, and put down his brush of patina, putting his hands on the table and leaning back, tired.

He had no strength left.

He heard someone's footsteps − someone walked into his workshop, but did not greet him.

He shuddered when he smelled an intense female perfume beside him and stepped back like a man possessed, looking at Jason Lannister's student with wide eyes.

He felt like something had locked inside him, he couldn't move − the girl opened her mouth to say something, but he wouldn't let her.

"Get out. Immediately." He said coolly, feeling that his hands were trembling.

Get out. Get out. Get out. Get out. Get out. Get out.

The girl smiled at him in a way he hated, in a way that suggested she thought he was teasing her, that he was pretending.

"I only came to ask for advice on my work, Professor Lannister is absent today." She said surprised, fixing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Get out." He repeated, louder this time, his heart pounding like a mad.

Whore.

Slut.

Bitch.

Get out.

"Are you so unpleasant to all female students, or just to me, Professor? Oh, I forgot, you don't accept women into your workshop. Fucking chauvinist." She growled, furrowing her brow, recognising that she had a right to judge him, to speak to him like that in his own workshop, to a professor who had achieved more in a few years than she would achieve in a lifetime.

"Get the fuck out." He hissed, looking at her menacingly, all tense, unable to get the smell of her perfume out of his nose, too much like her smell, then − he felt like he was about to really throw up though, his stomach twisting in an intense spasm.

The girl bit her lip, putting her hands at her sides, looking at him with some kind of pride, as if she thought she had the right to do so, to tell him how it was going to be, to bring him down to earth with her feminist bullshit.

"You have no right to speak like that to any woman, Professor. Do you understand? I demand an immediate apology." She said with certainty, from which he laughed out loud, shaking his head in disbelief. His face turned from amused to pale with rage, he saw fear and discomfort in her gaze.

"When Jason pats your ass you squeal with joy. Did you come here because you were hoping for the same thing? Then you were wrong. Now, get the fuck out." He hissed, shaking with anger and horror at the same time, her cheeks flushed scarlet.

She really thought he hadn't seen it?

It was things like this that he paid the most attention to.

He had fought for years to get all those fucking perverts thrown out, and because of students like her, Lannister believed that what he was doing was normal, healthy.

He felt a gag reflex in his throat and stepped back, swallowing loudly, trying to catch his breath.

You are such a pretty boy, Aemond.

Your eye, your scars don't bother me at all.

Why are you so tense?

He stepped back, horrified, as she came close to him, too close, looking at him with her lips clenched, her breasts exposed in a substantial cleavage rising and falling in uneven breaths.

All he could think about was wanting to pull away from her, but he couldn't move.

"I know very well that you are a worse pervert than he is. Why do you not accept girls into your workshop? Maybe you're afraid you'd rape them because none of them would ever want you of their own free will?" She hissed, and he slapped her face so hard that she fell to the floor.

He stared at her with his mouth wide open, panting loudly − she looked at him with resentment and horror, catching herself with her hand on her red cheek, not believing he had done it.

"I won't leave it like that, Professor. Have a nice day." She mumbled terrified, on the verge of crying, and walked out, leaving him alone.

He barely had time to run to the sink where the students washed their hands after finishing their work before he threw up.

Why are you so tense?

Just stay still and let me take care of myself.

Look, see?

You wouldn't be so hard if you didn't want it.

He was panting loudly, coughing in convulsions, trembling all over, clasping his hands on the metal sink. He squeezed his eyes shut, knowing it was a panic attack, that it would pass soon, it would pass, it would pass, as it always, always had, and it would now too.

It took several long minutes before his heart stopped beating like mad, before his mind sobered again, before he felt he knew what was happening to him again.

He rinsed his mouth out quickly with cold water, washed his face with his hands and groaned low, terrified, knowing what awaited him now.

What he had done.

He was not surprised when, later that same day, the rector himself called him in.

He hadn't reacted as strongly when he reported to him that Jason was too fond of his female students and not every one of them was happy about it.

He listened calmly to the allegations, but when the man asked him to explain, he said nothing but what he really thought.

This slut deserved it.

If he could, he would slap her again.

She was just proof to him that he was right.

He didn't want any woman in his workshop.

His therapist was not happy to hear that.

"Why did you do that?" He asked, fiddling with the pen in his hand, and he sighed heavily.

"She suggested I might be a rapist. She came and threatened me in my own workshop. She came too close, she…"

"…violated your space." He finished calmly, and he pressed his lips together, tracing his chin with his fingers.

"Yes."

"What consequences will you face now?" The man asked him, correcting with a slight movement the glasses slipping off his nose. He sighed heavily, massaging his temple, no longer having the strength to think about it.

"None. I bring the university too much money from the curia. The girl won't press charges against me because I know about her relationship with Jason, but she's slandering me on some inferior gossip site. She implies that I was interested in her. Fucking bullshit." He chuckled, burying his face in his hands, shaking his head.

"Is this ever going to stop? I don't want to hurt any women. I just wish they wouldn't come near me anymore."

The next two years he faced the wry stares of other students and lecturers. He knew what they thought of him − that he had hit innocent young girl, that he was an abusive man with mental problems who needed psychiatric treatment.

If it had been a female student who had slapped him, everyone would surely have thought that he had obviously done something to deserve it, that he had picked on her or made immoral proposals to her.

The fact that he did it must have been because he was habitually violent.

Even if he tried to explain it to them, they would still think he had gone too far.

He didn't give a shit.

They couldn't destroy him any more than he already was.

He just wanted to be able to work in peace.

When he saw before the new semester in the system a woman's name on his attendance list for the second year of his specialisation he decided immediately that it was a simple mistake and went to the dean's office with it, wanting it fixed. The woman grunted loudly, looking at him uncertainly.

"It's not a mistake, Professor. She signed you in as her supervisor." She said, standing up, pulling out for him the documents she had submitted to confirm her words.

He looked through them quickly and clenched his eyes, feeling like he was about to explode.

Why?

Why couldn't he have holy peace?

He figured that he would simply not read her out during class, that he would pretend she didn't exist until she was discouraged. He had no intention of wasting his strength or attention on her.

That's what he did.

"She's not like that, Aemond. Really. She focuses on her work, she's diligent. Three times I made her start the same face over and she did it without saying a word. She is humble and learns quickly. It's a shame to give her up to waste to Jason or Floris." Said Cregan, massaging his chin, sitting across from him in his office.

His words surprised him, as it was the first time since they had worked together that he had tried to smuggle a girl into their workshop despite knowing what his opinion was on the subject.

"No. There are always problems with them sooner or later. She was almost crying by now. I don't want any weepy scenes in my workshop. I −" He paused as he heard a loud knock on the door, Cregan immediately got up and opened it.

He glanced over his shoulder surprised that he hadn't said anything and saw her notebook and pen.

He squeezed his eyes shut, running his hand over his face.

Fuck.

No. No. No. No. No.

"Please, find five minutes for me, Professor." He heard her soft, pleading tone. Cregan stepped back and it was only then that he saw her.

Although dressed like a boy, she had something of a girlish lightness about her − her face was pleasant, her eyes large, full of terror, surrounded by dark long lashes, her lips pressed into a tight line.

He figured that if he didn't let her say what she wanted she'd probably pester him with messages, and he didn't want that, so he hummed under his breath, took out his phone and turned on the stopwatch.

"Five minutes." He said lowly and heard Cregan walk out quickly leaving them alone.

He felt his heart pounding hard, his whole body trembling as he saw her take a step towards him.

"Don't come up, just stand there and talk. You're running out of time." He burst out coolly, clenching his hand into a fist, feeling his whole body take on a defensive form, ready to react aggressively immediately if necessary.

She, however, stepped back and swallowed loudly, looking down at her fingers, fiddling with her notebook in a nervous gesture.

"I know what rules you have set in your workshop and I wish very much now that I had been born a man, but unfortunately I am not." She muttered with difficulty, her voice trembling with fear. He felt a squeeze in his heart at her words and thought that it was indeed not her fault, but he couldn't help the way he was either.

"I saw your artworks while I was still in high school at St. John's Cathedral, and having always dreamed of creating stained glass for churches, I wanted to be taught by someone who is such an accomplished specialist in the field as you are. I know how difficult the job is and I promise to do what you tell me to do without a shadow of dissatisfaction. I will not approach you except to revise my designs or projects. I will always work at the furthest table and sit in the last seat as far away from you as possible, dressing in such a way that you do not notice me and forget my existence on a daily basis. Please." She uttered the last word pathetically, pleadingly, on the verge of crying.

He knew she cared and some part of him sympathised with her, but the other distrusted her, trying to see through the manipulation in her behaviour so notable for women.

He thought she talked about his work to please him, that she was cowering in front of him and trying to pass herself off as humble, where surely if he had only agreed she would have shown him her true face straight away.

They were all the same.

They dressed their disgusting desires in the most beautiful words.

You are such a pretty boy, Aemond.

He swallowed with difficulty, drawing in air quietly.

"Just because you're a fan of my works doesn't make you a talented person. What good is it to me that you work in silence if none of your pieces will be at least satisfactory and your colleagues will have to correct your mistakes?" He asked indifferently, glancing at her again. He could see that she was growing pale and stifled, her big eyes looking at him as if she was about to fall to her knees before him and beg him.

However, she did not.

"Well. All I have with myself now are quick sketches in my notebook. They're portraits of people I see travelling on the bus to my classes." She mumbled, looking at her notebook. He sighed heavily, burying his face in his hand, disbelieving that, knowing his attitude, she hadn't brought anything with her on which he could judge her artistic ability.

What an idiot.

"So you are unprepared." He summarised and saw out of the corner of his eye that she had moved restlessly.

"None of my colleagues had to −" She started with a frown, but closed her mouth immediately when she saw his disgruntled, warning look.

"− I − yes, I'm unprepared. I'm very sorry." She whispered in shame, lowering her gaze, and he sighed again, looking ahead, raising his hand in the air.

He heard her walk up to him and slip the notepad into his palm − he didn't smell any perfume, just the scent of some pleasant coconut shampoo and lotion.

He began to look through her sketches page by page, finding that they were ordinary, simple, not bad, but not good either. He stopped, however, at a depiction of a mother holding a child on her lap, sketched quickly with a simple outline and linear shading.

The composition made him think of Renaissance paintings depicting the Madonna and Child − a young woman was leaning slightly towards the infant, helping it to hold something in his small, clenched hand.

His attention was also drawn to a drawing of a thoughtful old man with carefully depicted wrinkles and an endless, lifelong weariness, some age-old wisdom flowing from his aged eyes outlined with such quick and simple movements.

He paused, too, at the drawing of the young man, his face almost resembling that of an angel sunk in deep sleep, leaning with his temple against the glass, his lips slightly parted.

He sighed heavily and massaged his forehead, himself not knowing what he thought of it, tired and discouraged. He raised his hand with her sketchbook without looking at her.

"Three of your fifteen sketches I would consider good. Do you think that's enough?" He asked dispassionately, hearing her move restlessly.

He thought for sure she was about to start crying and begging, saying that she would improve, that she could do better.

Bullshit.

"No. It's not enough." He heard her heartbroken voice and hummed under his breath, satisfied with her answer and any self-criticism, tossing her notebook into the bin with a slight movement, where it belonged.

He lifted his gaze to her, having the feeling that the matter was now settled and that if she had any doubts about whether she wanted him to teach her, they had just been dispelled.

He saw that she was looking at the spot where he had dumped her notebook in disbelief, her lower lip quivering slightly.

"So I'll do 200 sketches, 40 of which will be good. Or 300 of which 60 will be good. I will do as many of them as you see fit, Professor." She exhaled with difficulty, but with a kind of certainty and ferocity that surprised him. He felt a strange tightening in his stomach − he didn't know what to make of her words, feeling that this was a challenge of sorts.

He shuddered as he heard the ringing of his timer and reached for his phone, muting it, staring blankly ahead.

I will do as many of them as you see fit, Professor.

"400 sketches. And they're all supposed to be good. Without them, don't even show yourself to me. Anything else?" He asked coolly, impatient and angry with himself for not being able to discourage her enough, for not being able to find an answer to her words.

"No. Thank you for the chance, Professor." She mumbled in surprise and simply walked out, closing the door behind her.

A moment later, Cregan walked in, excited, pretending not to ask her at all what he had decided.

"And how did it go?" He asked, and he threw him a furious, tired look and stood up, taking his leather jacket from the back of his chair and walked out, slamming the door loudly.

He walked out in front of the university building through a side exit and fired up a cigarette while standing by his car, taking a deep drag of the smoke, clenching his eyes, trying to calm himself down.

He didn't want her at his place, he wished she would just leave him alone.

He looked around him with absent-minded eyes, seeing students entering and leaving from a distance − he spotted a face he recognised after a moment, but something didn't feel right.

The same girl who had begged him to let her study under his supervision was apparently just walking towards the bus stop, but instead of a long black hoodie and black trousers she was wearing a light-coloured dress with buff sleeves and long woollen socks to mid-thigh.

She had changed her clothes.

She came to his class covered up, dressed as a boy.

I know what rules you have set in your workshop and I wish very much now that I had been born a man, but unfortunately I am not.

I will always work at the furthest table and sit in the last seat as far away from you as possible, dressing in such a way that you do not notice me and forget my existence on a daily basis.

He was furious with himself for feeling some kind of shame and pain, knowing that she looked perfectly normal.

Now, looking at her sideways, he realised that if he had seen her dressed like that today when she came to talk to him, he would have immediately lost his good opinion of her.

Most girls who applied for a place in his workshop thought that the prettier they dressed, the sweeter and more appealing they looked, the better the chances were that he would say yes. However, his tendency was just the opposite and for some reason this girl knew it.

She knew she wasn't the problem, it was how he perceived her and she wanted to change that image in his eyes, to blend into the background.

He swallowed hard, taking a drag on the remainder of his cigarette, staring blankly ahead, realising that she really must have cared.

He figured that if she did what he told her to do, he'd give her one and only chance.

For that sacrifice, for the fact that she understood what he had a problem with.

She showed up only a week later with two thick folders filled with sketches, again dressed in a big black sweatshirt, black trousers and trainers.

For some reason, he felt a squeeze in his heart at the sight of her.

He took her to an empty classroom so he could look at her work without the curious stares of other students. He knew she had done as many sketches as he had told her to, but he didn't have the energy to look through them all.

"Lay them out here. Show me the top 40." He said impatiently, standing a good distance away from her with his hands folded behind his back, smelling that coconut shampoo again.

He saw that she gave him a quick, horrified look and parted her lips, looking at the thick bundle of papers she held in her hand. He rolled his eyes, trying not to explode.

"Can't you judge which of your works are suitable to be shown to me?" He growled warningly wanting her to pull herself together, but she shook her head quickly and began at last to choose.

He frowned as he saw that most of her works were copies and sketches of details from churches he knew well, at least dozens of them, so he decided that she had really taken his task to heart.

"That's enough." He commanded and stepped closer to the table − she moved away immediately.

He thought he liked how she respected his private space and allowed him to focus without her input on what he was seeing.

He leaned over her works, noticing that they were more refined than the ones he had seen before, still light, but also enigmatic and expressive, all drawn on scrap paper, so they reminded him of sketches by Leonardo, Raphael, Michelangelo.

He liked the fact that she had wisely chosen to portray saints and angels, as these were the most common commissions they received as a students or workshop, showing her skill in this field.

He picked up one of the sketches of a sculpture of the Virgin Mary which he knew intimately, having looked at it often as a child when he went to Mass every Sunday with his mother.

"Is that a figure from the church of St Michael the Archangel?" He asked indifferently, wanting to see if she knew what he was talking about, or if she was sketching by looking at pictures on the internet.

She, however, nodded quickly.

He hummed under his breath and stepped back, looking at everything she showed him from a distance, folding his hands behind his back again.

He thought he was pleased with the result of her work.

That he could give her a chance.

"A month. For a trial. If you disappoint me, I'll kick you out." He said lowly and walked out, leaving her alone with his words.

He stepped into the workshop and was met with curious, uncertain looks from his students.

"Don't you have anything to do?" He growled, and they immediately bent over their tasks and sketches, all around him the swish of a diamond knife and the sound of breaking glass, the rustling of paper and brushes.

Cregan walked up to him and stood over him, unable to contain his curiosity.

"And how did she do?" He asked quietly, but before he had time to answer him, he saw her standing in the threshold, pressing her sketches to her chest, looking at him questioningly.

He nodded for her to enter, and with a light, happy step she crossed that invisible, mysterious line that separated his world from everything else.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess

[vviolets444rroses]

dating ethan landry pt2

my HEADCANONS <3 :

SFW only :)

part 1 part 3

👻; if you have any pets, they all like him better than they do you.

👻; he’s an early bird, always up at like 7am making you your favorite breakfast food.

👻; if you’re a night owl, then he’s patiently sitting beside you doing homework or reading while he waits for you to wake up.

👻; if you’re an early bird like him, you guys are up making breakfast together. he probably sucks at cracking eggs😭

👻; he surprisingly takes a little longer than you to get ready to go out.

👻; he doesn’t get high, but if you are, he might be in a quiet corner and draining his vape🙏

👻; if you have any classes together, he’s sitting next to you, hand on your knee.

👻; he likes when you teach him girly things. like how to do a proper ponytail, why you use the products you do, and so on.

👻; he LOVES skin care nights with you. he’s standing in between your legs and you’re sitting on the bathroom counter. he usually smothers his face with the mask. so you had to start doing it for him🤦🏻‍♀️

👻; he cleans your room for you. and in the morning, your bed is always made before you leave the bathroom.

👻; he hates when you’re sad. so he’s always going above and beyond just to make you feel better.

👻; like i mentioned in the first part, he kisses your insecurities. but if that won’t work, he sits in the bathroom with you and points out everything he loves about you. (p.s., he loves all of you so it takes hours)

👻; he’s a broke college student, but he will always find a way to get you flowers. when he can’t afford a bouquet, he picks them in a random garden. and when he can, it’s a fat one with your favorite ones.

👻; he’s always on the move. so when you’re slowing down, he either carries you on his back or throwing you over his shoulder.

👻; when you guys get in fights and you try to walk off, he pulls you back by your pant loop. he sits himself down and hugs your body. he won’t let you guys sleep when there’s an unresolved problem.

👻; he has a picture of you and your pet (if you have one) as his lock screen. he claims that your pet is his kid as well.

👻; you and mindy are always pulling pranks on him. he’s easy to prank 💁🏻‍♀️

👻; he wears actual pajamas to sleep in. you think he looks dorky, because you just wear his shirt and shorts. and it’s rare he’ll sleep in just boxers, because chad always barges in.

👻; he gets all shy and nervous when you’re complimenting him. if you talk about his abs or muscles, he looks everywhere but at you.

👻; secretly a swiftie or lana stan (i need this for me guys😣)

👻; he will sing lay all your love on me with you for karaoke nights.

👻; when in public, you’re always hugging him. he likes that you do.

👻; you guys have a mutual obsession with each other’s hair.

👻; he has a low spice tolerance. he could probably eat one hot cheetos and suffer for the rest of the hour.

👻; he likes late night walks with you.

👻; you make him read books after you read them so you have someone to talk with about them.

👻; ^^ anika usually reads with you guys, but she eventually gets annoyed at how cutesy you guys are. she leaves to go be with mindy after 30 minutes.

this is my opinion, i hope you like it… most of these are more descriptive, i think. so yeah :)