#and i wash my hands an unhealthy amount

[miserye]

it's that season again for my hands

[lcverwrites]

the lovers ― aegon targaryen

summary ... aegon had never known the tender touch of love, from the cradle as a babe, he was cursed to be unlovable. his mother held no love for him, only the safety he provided her. his father never spared him a glance, to sickness struck to see past his golden daughter. his siblings were indifferent to him, never really having the want to dig past his drunkard front. but then came her... aegon never understood why she loved him, what she saw in him that others could not, what he could not see in himself. but thank the gods above, there was nothing he wouldn't do to keep her devotion, because the unlovable had finally found someone who loved him; and who he loved in turn. pairing ... aegon ii targaryen x tyrell!reader (wife reader) warnings ... self loathing, talks of being unlovable, strained family dynamics, targcest (mentioned, but not seen), hurt/comfort, angst, trying to heal from unhealthy relationships, mentions of drinking, supportive wife mode note ... I want this fictional man a healthy amount, as you can clearly see. I might make some more things for this couple in the future, cause they've been on my mind for a loooong time. I just want to love this man for a second, after the shit storm they put him through this season. Let me know if you want more of aegon x tryell!reader, perhaps some smut between these two lovers 😏🫶🏻

⠀⠀⠀Voices spoke muffled words around Aegon, drowning him in their monotonous sounds, unimportant and distant from his thoughts. Aegon knew he should have been listening to his merriment of council members, they were talking about the needs of the realm, the wants of the smallfolk, the unwarranted needs of the already wealthy lords and ladies in his court, the impending doom awaiting them across the sees, with his sister plotting to take the crown from his very head.

The crown she was once promised, The Realms Delight was worlds away now, and the crown snuggly sat upon Aegon's head, the doing of the Mother and Grandsire, the controlling hands that guided Aegon under the guise of their affection and want to see him succeed, to bring the promised peace Viserys once spoke about.

But Aegon knew better now.

His mother held no love for her eldest son. She held him at arms length, with contempt, her lips pursed as if she couldn't ever fathom smiling at her own son. With a faux guiding hand, never reaching for a tender touch, only a harsh slap to awaken him from thoughts of straying from the path laid out for him. Alicent Hightower liked to believe she loved her children to the best of her ability, but Aegon knew better, knew that her love came with conditions, and Aegon's was to keep the safety of her family, even if he was killed in the process.

His Grandsire was a bitter old man, who reached above his station as hand of the king, all but ready to snatch the crown from Aegon himself. He was the driving force for Aegon's ascension, seeing the malleable drunk as a way to reach his ultimate prize, to be King through Aegon. There wasn't a bone in Otto Hightower that cared for Aegon past the power he could bring him.

Aegon could hear his mothers docile voice, sweeter than those of the men whom sat around her. Her words blurred into a flurry of movement, her lips parts around the words he wasn't taking in.

He watched his mother. Seeing his lips in her mirror image, full and pink, a slight downtick in the right corner, a frown always threatening to take her tender disposition by the throat. He could see the shape of her eyes, wide like a doe, but all innocence was washed away by a bland rage that barely simmered beneath their dark pools of amber liquid, subdued and boring. She could see her picking at the skin of her nailbeds, a bad habit she never outgrew in her youth, a habit she passed onto Aegon, if his red and raw nails were a certain sign.

He could see so much of himself in Alicent, in his own mother, a mirror into Aegon's soul. But all she could see in Aegon was his father, and she despised him for it.

His gaze traversed from his mother, to the stoic statue was his brother. Foreboding and concealed all at the same time, Aemond was a fearsome foe.

Aemond spoke little, hums of approval passed his sealed lips, displeased puffs of air fled from his nose. When words did leave his lips, they were precise, vicious and cold in the manner, strait to the point, never one to flounder and flaunt with unnecessary grandeur. He spoke as if he were a worldlier man, knew the bitterments was war and what was required to secure their victory, through fire and blood, through destruction and death. Aegon didn't know if it meant their own destruction or their foes, Aemond's want for power knew now bounds.

It's what desired him to his Grandsire.

He saw a likeness in Aemond that he didn't see in Aegon, and he held hatred and resentment for his oldest grandson.

Aemond paid no mind to Aegon, as if he was not there, the chare beneath him empty, no figurehead to be seen. He spoke to the counsel with the convection of a King, hand perched on the hilt of his sword, as if ready to strike at any given moment, lest one of the lords spoke against him, as if it were treason.

As young boys, Aegon and Aemond were like most boys he supposed. They poked and prodded at one another, until one of them bled, pleading for the other for mercy, running and crying to their mother. Often it was Aegon tormenting Aemond for his lack of dragon, for being the boring little know it all, smacking him against in the training yard in the name of bettering his skills, but Aegon wanted his little brother to feel even just a moment of the bitter resentment he felt feasting in his insides, sloshing around with the sweetened wine he drank himself into a stupor with.

He wanted his brother to feel small, unwanted, unloved, just as he felt. But no matter what Aegon did, his brother would always have their mother behind him, caressing his with the tender touch he craved. The lick his wounds with her tender voice, chaste kisses to the crown to his head, all the while berating Aegon in the same breath.

Aegon knew he shouldn't have treated Aemond so, they were both circumstance of their family, they were the only people who could truly understand each other, but resentment flooded Aegon's bones, strengthening his hatred for everyone whom shared his blood, and couldn't taste the bitter bite of his flesh.

Aemond resented Aegon for what he was given, just because he had the audacity to be born first. He was given the crown of their founding family, he was given the undeserving respect of the smallfolk, he was given the time and energy the the King's counsel. He was given the best tutors and training teachers, but he never respected what has trust upon him, not in the way Aemond would have welcomed him. Now his brothers days were spent on the throne he desired so, drunk in his cups and stupidly stuttering around like the idiot Aemond has always known Aegon to be.

Aegon leaned back in his uncomfortable chair, hand reaching out to play with the ball before him, the marble feeling cool beneath his heated palms. He felt as of he were just melting into the wood beneath him, and no one seemed to notice.

Except...

A hand reached for his arm, a delicate little thing, decorated with gentle rings that glimmered in the afternoon light, shimmering shades of glittering gold, azure blue and brilliant emerald. The smooth skin of a palm caressed his forearm, thumb digging into the malleable skin beneath his wrist, as if she knew he was slowly floating away, grounding him to this moment, to her touch.

Oh but she....

She was a marvellous thing. Aegon hadn't seen anything so precious in his life, so delicate, so wonderfully beautiful. There weren't enough words in the world for Aegon to describe her, nothing could ever truly do her justice, and he had tried, many a times, much to her amusement.

The Lady Tyrell had been a gift Aegon knew he wasn't deserving of, it was as if the gods were cursing him to gaze upon the mirror of the Maiden, but never being good enough, strong enough, smart enough to be worthy of even a glimpse in his direction. Aegon would only think himself lucky enough to dream about her gentle touch, to be the lucky man whom would receive her affection, to have her smile at him in a manner he'd never seen a maiden smile before.

Her smile started small, only an upward pulling in the right corner of her lips, inch by inch, her pretty pink lips would stretch in the most delicious curve, revealing the pearls of her teeth, little creased would dip in the skin of her cheeks as she would freely smile, a crinkle would form in her nose, her eyes would glitter with a golden looking happiness, as if you were the centre of her world in that very moment, the very reason she was smiling, like you were the only thing that could make her happy.

Aegon wished he could bottle the feeling her smile encapsulated, pure and true happiness unlike anything Aegon has felt before.

How could a persons smile be so contagious?

Despite his reservations, the Lady Tyrell held no contempt for him. She gazed upon him as if she were seeing him for what he was and she was willing to accept him, bitter soul and all.

The Lady Tyrell squeezed his arm, only once, and it was enough to have Aegon retreating from the narrow tunnel he was burrowing himself into. His gazed picked up from the marble to look upon the visage of his wife.

His Wife.

They'd been married when they were ten and three respectively, much to young to be married, but as is the way Aegon supposed. He hadn't even been given the chance to speak with her, before it was announced in the King's Counsel that they were to be married.

But they've come a long way from those scared children they had been all those years ago.

But the one thing that hadn't changed, was the devotion and love she had bestowed upon Aegon. Day in and day out, there wasn't a moment in time where she didn't love him.

"Perhaps the counsel should take a breath" Her melodic voice pierced through his muffled thoughts, like it always did, his every being was tuned into every sound and moment she made.

"Pardon, your grace?" Lord Lannister paused a moment, looking at her with a look of confusion.

"You have been discussing for hours now" She mildly replied, keeping an easy smile on her lips, looking like the pliant woman they demanded she be. "If we were to be attacked by our foes, they would have done so already, surely you all see this"

"Just because it hasn't happened, does not mean it will not happen" Otto Hightower's condescending voice bounced around the room, looking down upon the Lady Tyrell, as if she were a speck of dirt on his boot.

Aegon clenched his fist, loathing that she was rained down upon by Otto's hatred because she was connected to Aegon.

She never seemed to waiver beneath his gaze, nodding demurely at the Hand, as if she were bending to his whims.

"I do not disagree my Lord" She announced. "But perhaps we have spoken on the themes of war for much to long"

"Your Grace, forgive me for speaking so candidly--"

"Then do not"

All eyes turned to Aegon, who for the first time since the counsel had gathered, had found himself voicing the words that had been rattling around in the back of his throat.

"The Queen has excused you" Aegon bluntly replied, leaning further back in his seat, pulling his arm along with him, turning it just so, allowing his palm to slide right along her. Their fingers gliding together like magnets pulling them together, locking them in place.

Aegon relished the feeling of her warm palm beneath his own, smooth skin against his own rough calloused skin, like silk against leather. The cool metal of her rings biting into his warm skin, a zinging shock to his system.

"Aegon, the counsel needs to speak about--" Alicent tried to gage her son back into the conversation, but Aegon was already detached from everything that was her.

"Your King has dismissed you" Aegon interrupted his mother.

Aegon looked to his mother, seeing her lips parted in surprise. She wasn't used to Aegon snapping at her so, he had always been so willing to bow to his mother, wishing for her affection in return.

But he now knew what love without restraints and conditions tasted like, he craved the affections of his wife, whom would willingly allow him to be loved without limits.

"Fuck off" Aegon waved off the counsel.

He didn't even watch as each member grumbled up their breath about something or the other. He didn't notice the shared look of concern on his Mother and Grandsires faces, he didn't see the glare Aemond had wagered his way, icy and void of any brotherly affection. He didn't see any of it, and if he had, he wasn't sure he would care.

Not when she was gazing upon him as she always had.

With love.

"You may have been too crass my love" She smiled as the last of the counsel left the room, the foreboding doors slamming closed behind Otto Hightower himself, sealing himself out of reach of the King.

"They are a bunch of power hungry cunts" Aegon shrugged.

"Be that as it may" She conceded with a soft smile. She pushed herself from her seat, keeping her hand within Aegon's, walking around her corner of the table, until she was standing directly beside the chair Aegon was currently lounging in. "They are here because they support your cause"

Aegon huffed a breath through his nose.

He used their connected hand to haul his wife's body into his lap, she fell willingly into his embrace, wrapping her free arm around his shoulders.

"I do not wish to speak about them anymore" Aegon announced, shifting his wife further into his lap, until the side of her body was pressed firmly against his chest, the warmth of her body radiating through the thick fabric of her dress.

"Then we shall not" She decided, resting her forehead against his temple.

In this moment, Aegon hadn't ever imagine he would feel a love like this. He couldn't have ever pictured someone would love him for what he was, not for what he could give them.

He placed a gentle kiss against her cheek, enticing a soft smile to paint her pink lips.

Whatever god had decided to bring the two lovers together, he was praying that nothing would bring them apart.

[timedhoney]

MDNI. I <3 seungcheol perhaps an unhealthy amount

You’re too shy to tell him outright, but you absolutely love when cheol fingers you with no purpose. Laying an absolute squirming mess across his lap as he dips into you languidly with his eyes on the soccer game that plays on the TV.

He could have made you come multiple times by this point, so the fact that he’s chosen not to makes you drip even more across his light wash jeans. You swear he wears them just so he can admire how the wet patch grows along them. Neither of you are in a hurry to be anywhere but exactly where you are.

The soothing sounds of the announcer’s voices provide the perfect background buzz as he spreads your lips apart to greedily look at how you wiggle for him. Using his other hand to grab at your ass before he slides his fingers up to your clit. Heaven, you declare. Heaven is when cheol decides to play with you.

He gently circles your clit while you bury your face into the pillow and make noises that you feel like you shouldn’t be physically able to make. He makes cute kissy sounds at you as he resumes exploring your insides with his index and middle fingers.

The game is getting interesting, and he momentarily pauses 3 knuckles deep as he sucks in a breath. You’re sucking in a breath too, but it’s only because of course he’s chosen to press right up against your g spot in his moment of rapt attention. You’re going to pass out. Or turn to dust. Or pull his dick out of his pants. You really can’t decide.

But the moment passes and he returns to his previous ministrations, putting a soothing hand on your lower back. Fingers rocking in a rhythm that has your hips searching against him desperately. He pulls out to slide his finger along the outside of your lips with no rhyme or reason. Just because he can. Just because you’ll let him. You jolt each time he chooses to rub at your clit as he journeys. Jesus, is all you can say.

He leans down towards your ear, eyes still on the game. “god your ass looks amazing laid out for me like this.”

“Have my kids?” You ask, eyes clenched shut as he crooks his fingers back in deep in that way he knows gets you going. Well, what else is a girl supposed to say when she’s getting sweet talked like that?

You laugh when you feel him harden beneath you.

“What, fingering me for an hour does nothing until I say that?”

“Who said I wasn’t sporting a semi since the moment you laid yourself down all over me?”

You hurry to straddle him as you fumble with his zipper. Lucky for him you like to come best around his cock anyway.

[merakiui]

eden.

yandere!rollo flamme x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, nsfw, non-con, captivity, obsession, menophilia/period sex, vague references to the story of adam & eve note - a self-indulgent paradise crafted by rollo's generous, gracious hand.

Silvery slivers of moonlight spill through the space in the curtains, illuminating the fluffy sheets you’re currently entangled in. A sharp sting in your abdomen rouses you from your dreamless slumber, so agonizing it causes you to slowly curl in on yourself. Miserable and defeated, you groan and bury your face in the neighboring pillow. Now muffled, the sound can only carry on for however much capacity your lungs possess. It eventually fizzles out into a solemn, silent resignation that forces you to accept the third day of the monthly curse that is the menstrual cycle.

It’s a natural facet of your biology, but that doesn’t stop you from moping when you register the slick sensation between your legs.

This wouldn’t be an issue if he got me pads or tampons, you think, bitter with resentment and worn to exhaustion even though you’ve only just woken.

Awkwardly, you attempt to sit up and pull the covers back to check the damage. Rollo’s sheets are always spotless and fresh; he washes them every two weeks on Sunday afternoons, dedicated to following his schedule down to the letter. But then the pain persists, stabbing through to your very organs, and you resume your pitiful fetal position in hopes that the severity may abate.

It does, but you think you’re just tricking yourself into believing so.

You can feel the blood soaking through your white nightgown, and the sodden fabric molds itself to your rear in a very unpleasant way. Shuddering, you blink back tears.

I wanna go home.

Home, as it happens, has felt less and less temporary with each passing month spent in Twisted Wonderland. You’ve come to associate the familiarity of Night Raven College and its student body with comfort and contentment. It’s your home away from home. A long, long way from home. But it’s all you’ve ever had since the Dark Mirror beckoned you forth, and it’s served as your solace for a while.

Initially, you felt trapped and alone, uncertain of your fate and what this could mean for your life. But now you realize that no amount of feeling stuck at school could ever compare to this—to real confinement.

Your capture and, subsequently, your captor’s inexplicable infatuation are the result of arbitrary observation. In his frigid, heavy-eyed stare, you fit the criteria for a definition of purity he has constructed for his own abstract conduct. Untouched by magic, unable to conjure even the simplest spell, you are the speck of hope within Pandora’s box—a blessing enshrouded in sin.

“It must be taxing to live amongst mages so often,” he had said, as if to extend sympathy.

Foolishly, not quite understanding where those words were coming from, you replied in jest, “Believe me, it is. The amount of times I’ve nearly been caught in the crossfire when my friends get into heated arguments… Yikes.”

Rollo Flamme is a righteous man, and thus it is his duty to build a pristine paradise for you. An Eden of his own creation, its sole purpose to safeguard you from the pollution that is magic and, by extension, mages.

But purity cannot be found here, for Rollo is a devil in this garden. Potted plants adorn the floor; it’s something of a floral jungle, filling the room with perfumed scents and pretty sights. You’ve made note of their habits—of every flower that wilts and rises once it’s watered, of every petal that pries itself open under the moon’s glow and closes come sunrise, of every stem that’s trimmed to prevent excess.

Rollo Flamme prefers tidy spaces, so this well-kept garden is sterile and peaceful. You’ve likened it to a morgue filled with dead things—or soon-to-be dead things, as most plants cannot thrive forever no matter how diligent the botanist.

He barked a humorless, monosyllabic laugh at your declaration. “Unless you’ve chosen to view yourself as a rotting corpse, which you are not, your comparison is both unwarranted and untrue,” he muttered, and that was the final utterance of that subject.

Conversations with Rollo are always impossible, which is why you’re dreading this next one when he turns the key in the lock. The sound is like a gunshot in an empty room: explosive. As if echoing your discomfort, your cramps worsen in their intensity and you suck in a shaky breath through grit teeth. You hear the door shut and lock, sentencing you to an exchange with an unwanted warden. He walks into a mostly serene scene, his glacial gaze sweeping across the room to pick apart any interruptions in this slice of Shangri-La.

“I’ve brought dinner,” he announces, and you lift your head to peer at the tray in his hands.

“I don’t want your grapes and croissants,” you spit. “I want something warm.”

“It is warm.” Stepping closer, he sets the tray on his desk. You spy wispy tendrils rising from a bowl of soup. “Sit up and eat before it goes cold.”

You attempt that, halfway up on your elbows, but then your abdomen tightens and you slump back into the sheets. “Hurts,” you whine, clutching your stomach.

Rollo sniffs at the air, brows furrowing. His shoes click out an even rhythm against the floorboards, stopping at your bedside. Without ceremony he yanks the duvet away and you hiss at him, humiliated even though it’s normal. Your skin prickles with a chill, and it’s made even worse when you see the fiery glint in his eyes—the perceptive sort of glaze that overtakes his pupils when he’s observing you. His eyes crawl down your figure, stopping at the stain sullying your satin nightgown.

“Ah, you’ve leaked.”

“Obviously,” you snap. “I did this yesterday, too. When are you going to get me pads? Or tampons? I’ll even take a towel at this point or toilet paper. Anything is better than this.”

Rollo shakes his head. “You’re perfectly fine as you are.”

“Free bleeding like this is filthy and unsanitary.”

“So I’ll simply clean you.”

You drag your hand down your face and groan. “Rollo, please. It hurts, and it’s wet and uncomfortable.”

“You’ve illustrated these points more than clearly.”

“So then… Then do something about it!”

He narrows his eyes at you, silently taking issue with your demand, before he hums his consideration. His face settles into something neutral while he removes his hat and shoes, dutifully setting them in their respective places.

Rollo surprises you when he climbs onto the bed, kneeling over you with the tiniest trace of a smile.

“Spread your legs. I’ll have a look.”

Fresh horror blooms on your already distraught countenance. You bickered with him over this yesterday when he’d brought a wet rag to your inner thigh, seething at you to stay still while he wiped you down. You’d wrestled with him for ownership of the rag, insisting in panicked huffs that you could do it yourself. Your slap had rung out in the silence, rendering Rollo stiff with stormy emotions. He’d relinquished the rag, scoffing at you for being ungrateful and resolving to scribble in his diary for the rest of the day—a prisoner to his own silent treatment.

Now, as his cold fingertips creep up your legs, you feel less hungry and more sick.

Weakly, you shake your head at him, sinking deeper into the pillows. “I… I can do it myself…”

“With what? The nightgown you’ve already dirtied?” He tilts his head at you and smiles an odd smile. You can’t place it, whether it’s smug or sweet, but it soon becomes the former when he throws your words right back at you: “That’s filthy and unsanitary.”

“You don’t have anything either,” you retort, only to grimace once more.

Rollo exhales through his nose, amusement flashing in his dreary eyes. “Because I’m not going to clean you. Not yet.”

Ice crystalizes within your veins, and the tension in your legs slackens enough for him to pull them apart. “What?”

His hands stray dangerously close. You stiffen, nerves tangling with panic. “There are ways to alleviate menstrual cramps. You should be aware of them, so I see no need to go into detail.”

“I know, yes, but—” You swallow thickly and push his reaching fingers away before they can curl around the hem of your nightgown. “Rollo, please don’t…”

“You’ll feel better,” he assures you matter-of-factly, whispering the words like that will change anything. “This is better than medicine and safer than magic.”

You shift beneath him, unsettled. “A… A hot compress will do. Y-You’ll get yourself dirty. Also! A-Also… If we don’t wash the sheets soon, it’ll stain.”

“Let it. It will serve as a reminder to both of us. A reminder that, though you may ruin these sheets with all manner of bodily fluids, they will still remain pure.” He lifts your nightgown, leaning close to your ear while palming at your stomach. You angle yourself away from him, eyes squeezed shut. “It’s because you’re perfect and clean, untainted by magic, that you are able to exist here. I envy you…”

His bare hand is cold against your warm belly and it travels lower, his fingers hooking around the waistband of your panties. You stifle a whine, tears welling up behind your eyelids.

“Rollo…”

“Even your voice…” He inhales deeply, high off the scent of you—metallic and pungent, a natural musk more enticing than any flowery perfume. “Everything about you is so clean, even the very blood that pools between your legs… Just a moment in your embrace is enough to wash away the layers of filth that accumulate on my person. Perhaps you might even manage to scrub beneath my skin, wash out every ounce of magic that rests within… Would that I could, I’d break myself into pieces so that you may reassemble me—build a better me. A me without magic. If only…”

His other hand slithers into yours, squeezing tight. You’re arrested by the strain in his tone when he speaks next, so full of yearning and desperation. Covetous. Shameless.

“If only.”

“R-Rollo, please stop…”

“Yes… Yes, of course,” he babbles, nodding to himself. “I’ve likened you to a concept—to purity alone—but you are more than that. The embodiment of it… An angel. Otherworldly, immune to the poisonous effects of magic… Yes, that is what you are. An angel bereft of flaws.”

He fishes his celestial-patterned handkerchief from his pocket and presses it to your lips next. Your eyes snap open to find him now much closer than before, and you have but a moment to brace yourself before he leans in. The kiss is indirect, the both of you separated by the cloth, but the intention is there. It sticks to you even after he’s lowered the handkerchief. You are too pure and he is too filthy, which is why your lips must never touch.

Contradictory because he’s kissed you before.

Rollo drags your blood-soaked panties down to your knees. You shudder like a frail leaf caught in autumn’s harsh breeze.

“I’ve saved you—freed you!—from those…those villains. So you must allow me to indulge.” He shakes his head, his licentious, lustful stare smoldering to such a scorching degree it brands impure, unhealthy love upon your bare flesh. “I will indulge because I have been nothing but agreeable. This—” his fingers brush your slick folds, testing the waters— “is a wonder no magic could ever hope to reproduce. This is just you. Perfect, pretty, pure you…”

Experimentally, his digits dip shallowly inside. You flinch and inhale a sharp, frantic breath, your stomach somersaulting and knotting itself all at once. Complicated feelings stir within you as you writhe under his invasive touch. Your effort to escape is halfhearted; it’s too painful to move, so instead you attempt to clamp your legs shut. He tuts at you and slips his hand out from your hold to pet along your thigh.

“There goes a certain tale,” Rollo says, breathless as he continues his patient exploration. His eyes rove over your pussy like he intends to imprint it in his memory, and he doesn’t shy away from the crimson rivulet that runs down his palm when he sinks his fingers in further. You grit your teeth, melting against the pillows like an angel stamped in snow, and your free hand strangles a fistful of sheets. “In which a pair lived together in paradise, but it was temptation that ultimately led to their downfall. It is a doomed narrative.”

You’re breathing heavily now, your eyes flicking from the ceiling to the many plants that surround you on all sides, each one in full bloom. It feels as if you’re on a bed-turned-boat in a sea of greenery.

A sea of divine fertility.

With a skillful curl the two fingers delve deeper, pressing up against your gummy walls. Against your better judgment, you whine, loud and bawdy. His touch soothes, but then it stings. It makes you want to peel yourself open and step out of your skin so that you may subject it to a vigorous washing. It makes you despise the scent of flowers. It makes you fear the sound of the bell as it tolls unfailingly every single day. It makes you wish you’d never opened your mouth to respond to his words all those weeks ago.

Tears slip from your lash line. “Stop… Please stop…”

“Perhaps this is that same story made modern. Perhaps you were sculpted specially for me and I for you.” A third finger joins the other two working you open. Paper-pale skin is coated in brilliant vermillion, the very color of ardent desire. “Perhaps we are destined to fall together, born anew in someplace purer…”

The slow, steady drag of his fingers is more tempting than the ripe redness between your thighs, and you force yourself to gaze sidelong at the soup sitting abandoned on his desk. He plucks at each of your tangled, dewy strings, unraveling them with graceful strokes, and you’re pulled along on the blissfully uncomfortable current, treading between someplace grounded in reality and fantasy.

From above, at the bird’s eye view, you have become a garden for Rollo’s twisted whimsy.

You return to yourself when he eases his fingers out, stalling for a silent beat, before he thrusts them back in in one fluid motion. It punches the air from your lungs, has you throwing your head back with a weepy howl. He watches this with fierce scrutiny, curious at a clinical level.

“You’re beautiful,” he admits, spreading his fingers inside you. “My world. My panacea. My angel.”

“No… No, no.” You sob, your chest heaving with every wail. You can smell yourself on the air, the sharp scents of iron and sweat. Your pussy weeps blood, devastated at the hands of a monster, and yet it can’t stop affixing itself to him. A mold meant to suit his design. “Please… Please take it out.”

A shadow of contemplation passes over Rollo’s flushed countenance and then he’s reaching over to dry your tears, dabbing at your face with his handkerchief. “You’re okay. It doesn’t hurt anymore, right?”

You shake your head in protest rather than respond, chewing your bottom lip to shreds. A feeble whine slips through and you arch into him when his thumb presses down into your clit and prods at your hood. It happens all too fast. You tighten and loosen all at once, your mouth dropping open and eyes rolling back. The sheets are soaked through and properly soiled now, but that fact doesn’t lessen the seismic ecstasy that drapes itself over you like a veil. Your vision whites out and you fall, fall, fall through the waning vestiges.

Your heart drops into your stomach at the realization.

It doesn’t hurt anymore.

“You’ve done well.” He slides his fingers out, and the gooey squelching wrings a shudder from you. This time he grants you one of his rare smiles—the authentic, sincere kind—while he presses the pads of his fingers to his upturned lips, dyeing himself in your essence. You blink through encroaching tears, an ocean that obscures your vision and fuzzies his figure.

His fingers dig into the plush pudge of your thighs, thumbs rubbing soothing circles along your adductors. You open yourself again, involuntarily blossoming in this garden of iniquity.

“Good,” he praises again, whisper-soft. “You’re only permitted to be this way with me. Anyone else would simply tarnish your sweetness. They’d take advantage of your ability to cleanse even the foulest of filth. But I…”

Rollo, still clothed and now libidinous in his impatience, fumbles to pull himself free. His throbbing erection presses against your stomach, the final piece to force this puzzle to completion.

“I will always lay myself at your altar.”

You beg him not to, but every objection goes unheard. His hips connect with yours; he’s holding back, if only just barely, pressing onwards slowly, his breath coming in huffs and grunts. To savor it. To know the feeling firsthand and engrave it into his very being, from his fingers to his toes. To immerse himself in the red rain of a shackled angel.

To color a picturesque paradise in cardinal sin.

Just beyond the windows of Eden, swathed in midnight luminescence, a glorious city set aflame burns bright, overtaken by fiery flowers.

[badalivie]

 when you faint on stage

warnings: unhealthy diets, cursing, and some mentions of blood 

seungcheol!

“I can’t. My performance is in a couple minutes” You huffed, almost tripping over because of the lack of feeling you had in your left leg.

“slow down” Seungcheol grabbed a hold of your waist and pulled you back up on your feet “y/n please.” Just as he tried to beg you again, your group was called to perform. He could only watch as you hauled yourself onto the stage and smiled brightly, waving and making hearts at the cameras. He hated seeing his members in pain during performances and not being able to do anything to help them. So imagine how he felt watching you, the love of his life, haul yourself onto the stage like a soldier with a duty to battle.

After 3 excruciating minutes, you were able to finish the performance. Seungcheol kept his eyes on you like a hawk throughout the performance. Biting his nails, tapping his foot, peeling the skin on his lips. He felt like his heart was going to burst from worry. The way your eyes began to close and the way your foot was fighting for balance didn’t go unnoticed by him. Just as the lights shut off, you lost consciousness. Seungcheol was fast enough to catch you before you hit the ground, tearing his slacks as his knees slid across the floor. “Y/n, doll, come on” He lightly tapped your cheeks and stroked your head “Fuck.” He cursed, picking you up bridal style and running to your waiting room.

“I don’t care what you think! I’m asking you why you thought it was okay to overwork y/n like this! Extreme diets, 17 hour schedules, are you out of your mind?! You think being an idol is easy?”

The voice of your boyfriend yelling slowly woke you up. “Baby..?” You muttered. Seungcheol’s head snapped towards you when he heard your voice and he instantly kneeled down to your eye level while you lay on the couch.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” He smiled sweetly while he waved your manager and other staff away with one motion of his hand.

“Dizzy” you replied, trying to get up

“hey hey, slow down” Seungcheol placed his hands on your back and helped you sit up. “drink.” He gently held your chin as he guided you to drink from the water bottle he had bought earlier, feeding you like a baby. You drank a good amount before pushing the bottle away. “Good girl.” Seungcheol cooed, stroking the side of your head and tucking your hair behind your ear.

“what happened?”

“you passed out.” He frowned

“Oh shit not again” you face palmed. Seungcheol’s eyebrows crashed together.

“again? how many times has this happened?” He grabbed your wrist tightly and pulled it away from your face, forcing you to look at him. “Tell me.” He pressed.

“Just like… three or four times”

A serious, yet worried, expression washed over his features. “I knew it. I knew something was up with you. Why didn’t you tell me?” You sensed a hint of anger in his voice even though he tried his hardest to suppress it. You knew how careful he was with you, always making sure you never bumped into anything or strained yourself too much (which you were grateful for), so you didn’t want to trouble him when you started passing out and kept it a secret.

“because I knew you’d react like this.” You sighed.

His face scrunched up in what seemed to be annoyance before he took a breath and relaxed “of course I’m going to react like this, y/n. I’m your boyfriend, all I want is for you to be happy, and healthy. You can’t expect me to be anything less than worried.” He sighed, eventually calming down, and rested his forehead against yours.

“I’m sorry,” You said, attempting to calm his nerves knowing he was probably exploding internally. You rubbed your hands up and down his arms, which you could feel made him physically relax. “It won’t happen again.”

“It definitely won’t. I’ll make sure of that. You’re gonna be okay. I’m here now.”

He’d definitely watch over you like a hawk for the rest of the month. He’d make sure you ate 3 meals a day and had a decent amount of sleep. Your manager adjusted your schedule to make it a bit lighter. How could he not? He was too scared to find out what Seungcheol would to do him if he didn’t ease up on you.

jeonghan!

“so you think I’m weak and can’t handle it?”

“That’s not what I meant at all and you know it.” Jeonghan exasperated

“Yeah well, that’s what it sounded like to me.”

Jeonghan sighed and reached for your arm, rubbing up and down “I just worry for you... That’s all...” Before you could respond, your group was called to the stage. The heartbreak he felt when you shook his hand off was incomprehensible. It started off as a joke. He was teasing you about how pale you were, but when he noticed how weak you actually were, his mood changed. “You can’t go on stage like this y/n.” “You’re too... frail...” “Look at you! You look like you’re going to fall over any minute!” Were some of the things he said. Considering your exhaustion and all his prior teasing, you were not having any of it, which lead to a small dispute.

Jeonghan quietly returned to his seat by his members when the event continued. He kept his eyes fixated on you the whole time. Every time your balance faltered, and when your knees hit the ground too hard, he flinched in his seat. You managed to get to the end of the performance, but before you could strike the ending pose, you fell to the ground. The crowd gasped and the camera flashes went wild.

Jeonghan calmly stood up and excused himself from his members, who all understood where he was going. He heard the voices of your concerned members through the speakers, but he never sped up his pace as he made his way backstage. The pace he was walking at was driving him insane. When he got backstage, away from the cameras, his legs mindlessly began to speed up, taking him faster and faster until he was sprinting to your waiting room.

Jeonghan’s heart sank when he saw you with an oxygen mask strapped to your face. He immediately turned to your manager and lost it.

You woke up to the sound of your boyfriends voice and that irritating tone of his. You only heard it when you got in big arguments with him. It was that tone that made you think he wasn’t taking you seriously, like he was mocking you. It drove you crazy. But hearing what he was saying made your heart warm.

“So what did you expect her to do? Just take it and soldier though? Do you hear yourself right now? What do you want me to say? ‘You’re a genius!’ Pull yourself together dumbass. Look at the state she’s in! Did you not have enough brain to think this far? Do you think she’s a robot?! This is what happens to a person if you don’t let them rest!”

You gently reached your hand and grazed your fingertips over Jeonghan’s hand. A shiver crawled up his spine at the contact. “Baby…” Your boyfriend fell to his knees by your side, brushing your hair back. The staff all silently slipped outside of the room, partly because they were scared of Jeonghan, but because they also wanted to give you two privacy. “I’m sorry for earlier. I shouldn’t have been hard on you…”  He immediately apologized.

“I’m sorry too. I know you care for me… I shouldn’t have let my exhaustion rub off on you.”

Jeonghan shook his head and smiled sweetly at you “It’s okay. I know I have those moments with you too, and honestly I’d rather you be open to me about how you’re feeling. Okay? Don’t hide it from me.” He grabbed some water and a snack from the coffee table next to you. “Please eat something. You know how hard it was for me to just watch you eat only fruits at home?”

You sat up slowly and debated at first, but when you saw the way Jeonghan was looking at you with his worried, begging eyes, you had to say yes. “Just a small bag of cheetos. That’s it.”

“It’s a step” He chirped, popping the bag open and feeding you pieces of the snack one by one.

He’d watch over you silently but diligently for the next few months. He’d subtly try to up your food intake without you noticing and he’d always cuddle you after eating a large meal, almost like a reward.

shua!

"you’re bleeding!”

You felt blood trickle down from your nose, the droplets landing on your stage outfit. Joshua ran to your side and wiped your nose with a tissue. “This is bad, y/n. Really bad.”

“I’m fine. This happens a lot” You said nonchalantly, stuffing some tissue up your nostril. 

“a lot? y/n you need to see a doctor!”

“I’m fine, shua...” You tried to reassure him, but it obviously wasn’t working.

“y/n please.”

Just on cue, you were called to the stage to perform. Joshua grabbed your wrist, asking you to stay and take a break. He didn’t let go up until the very last second. He watched your performance from his seat anxiously. It was obvious to him that your blood was still trickling down from your nose. You kept looking up and wiping your nose when you walked to the side of the stage. You were like a ticking time bomb. 

Just before the last chorus could start, you dropped your microphone and fell onto the cold wooden floor. One of your members helped you up and carried you backstage with the help of some staff while your other members continued the performance. Joshua pushed through the crowd and burst through the backstage doors, booking it towards your waiting room.

“y/n!” His heart sank at the sight of you laid out on the couch. Grabbing a blanket, he threw it over your body and fell to his knees beside you. Joshua grabbed your hand and brought it up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss on the back. After about 15 minutes, you regained consciousness.

“Shua..?”

“you’re awake... how do you feel?”

It took you a second to answer, feeling too drowsy to even evaluate your physical state “not so good.”

Joshua sighed and brushed your hair back,  whispering softly “we’re seeing a doctor tomorrow.”

“Joshua there’s no need-”

“No. You are not arguing with me on this. I should have been more stern with you.” His voice was sharp, yet his eyes were still gentle as ever, afraid of hurting or scaring you. “We’re seeing a doctor and that’s the end of the story. If there’s something wrong with you, I want to know, I want to help. I don’t want to regret not taking you to the doctor. I can’t take that risk. I can’t to lose you...”

You cupped his cheeks and planted a gentle kiss on his forehead “And you wont...” He melted upon hearing those words of reassurance, bringing his hands up to yours and pressing them closer to his face, moving his head to the side to kiss one of your palms. “What time do we have to go tomorrow?”

“After we get enough rest.”

The doctor said you were suffering from burnout and exhaustion and advised you to get lots of rest. Joshua was happy that you didn’t have any serious life threatening conditions and that helping you get better was something he had power over. He’d pamper you but also be strict with your recovery, scolding you whenever you didn’t eat enough saying “you didn’t eat a lot, you just ate more than usual.”

jun!

Jun was usually soft-spoken toward you. He always respected and trusted your decisions whatever they may be. So when you were depriving yourself of your basic needs and deteriorating your health, he had no idea how to talk to you about it. You’d never put yourself in a situation that needed his intervention before so he had no idea how to tackle it. His hesitation lasted weeks, with multiple occasions of him saying he wanted to talk to you about something that was concerning him but it ending up with him getting too nervous and changing the topic to something else.

“Love, can we talk please?”

“Of course Junnie. What is it?”

“Are you okay-“

Before Jun could finish you were called by your manager, telling you to get on stage. You told him you’d talk to him later and ran into positions. Jun bit his lip, frowning at how the outfit you were wearing brought out how much weight you’d lost. 

You were out of breath and wobbly on stage, something even the audience took notice of. Mid-performance, as your verse was coming up, you fell onto the ground, landing hard on your shoulder. Jun flinched and instinctively ran to you, propping you up on his lap and cradling your face in his hands. The cameras went wild, the flashes almost blinding him. Soon after, staff came to the stage, blocking the two of you from sight and lifted you onto a stretcher. Jun followed the staff that took you to your waiting room with his heart stuck in his throat. He knew that there would be consequences to coming on stage and letting the media see him with you like that, but he didn’t care. He just needed to make sure you were okay. After all, as long as he had you by his side, he could take on the world.

It took about 20 minutes to wake up. You blinked your eyes open to see Jun sitting on a chair across from you, head in his hands. “Junhui...” You called. He jolted when he heard your voice and knelt by your side in a flash.

“y/n! I was so worried! When you fainted I- I didn’t know what to do I-... I was so scared.” You cupped his cheeks and brought his face closer to yours, pressing a gentle kiss against his lips. 

“I’m sorry.”

“You can’t keep scaring me like this, y/n. I can’t keep watching you do this to yourself. I can’t take it. This is where I draw the line.”

“Junhui...”

“Listen to me, y/n” His voice was sharp and stern, a polar opposite from his usual gentle tone. After noticing the shock on your face, he took a deep breath and softened his approach “ Please... We’re seeing a doctor, and getting you a dietitian.”

“Junnie, I can handle myself. I don’t need a dietitian-”

“That wasn’t a request, y/n. I’m getting you one”

You knew by the way he was stalking to you that there was no changing his mind. Though, you did realize that if you hadn’t pushed yourself so far, he wouldn’t have been so stern with you. Deep down, you knew he cared about you.

“Okay... Thank you, Junhui...”

His eyes softened “I’ll never let anything happen to you. You know that right?”

“I know... But hey, on a side note, I like you being strict. It’s really cute~”

“stop it” He giggled, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you in for a kiss.

Jun would be very gentle and supportive in your recovery, making sure you knew he would be with you every step of the way. He’d send gentle reminders to eat the snacks he packed you with sticky notes of motivational messages and cradle you to sleep, smiling when he gradually felt your body gain a little more fat every time he held you.

wonwoo!

“stop it.” Wonwoo chided

“Leave me alone, Won.”

“Y/N!”

“JUST GO!” You shook his arm off, stumbling as you did so. “if you’re not going to support me, just leave.”

“you can’t keep doing this. Your body can’t handle it.”

“I know what I can and can’t handle, Won.” The way you seethed his name left a bitter taste in his mouth. He exhaled and gently tried to reach for you again.

“y/n, please... I don’t want to fight.”

You sighed “me too... Just-... I’ll catch you after my performance”. Wonwoo wanted to reach for you again and say something, but no words were coming out of his mouth. The two of you almost got in a really big fight, he knew the both of you needed space. Still, he never stopped worrying about you, not even for a second.

Wonwoo could barely sit still while you performed on stage. Every time you fell too hard on your knees or twisted your ankle, he winced. Before he knew it, in the blink of an eye, you were on the ground, motionless and cold. He jolted up from his seat, watching in horror as the staff carried you backstage. He felt his legs take him to your waiting room where he found you laid out on the couch.

Wonwoo took deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself, loosening his tie and grabbing a chair to sit beside you. He couldn’t stay still no matter how much he tried, so he grabbed a bucket, a towel, and some iced water. He dipped the towel in the iced water and wrung it before placing it on your forehead. “come on y/n...” He whispered, brushing his fingers through your hair.

“Won..?” You blinked your eyes open

“Oh thank God” Wonwoo exasperated “You have no idea how worried I was. I just blinked and the next thing I knew you were on the ground! I-”

“I’m sorry...”

“huh..? for what, love?”

“for earlier...” You lowered your head “You were right and I... I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. You didn’t deserve that.”

“Oh baby, you’re tired and stressed. I get it. I’m not upset because of that, I’m upset because I don’t like seeing you get hurt.” He rubbed your now bruised knees gently with his hands. “Listen, let’s get you help. Okay? You’re having problems staying up and eating and breathing and just… You need help, y/n, and I’ll give it to you. You just need to let me in. Let me help you help yourself. How does that sound?”

You stayed silent, letting Wonwoo think you were debating it in your head when in reality you already knew the answer. Of course, you would listen to him, why wouldn’t you? What kept you silent is how long it took for you to finally let yourself get help. “Okay… Let’s go to the doctor…”

“Thank you” Wonwoo wrapped his arms around you and held you as close to him as humanly possible. The two of you would have a long, thorough conversation about how you would be handling your health and what steps you’d be taking to get back to proper health. Wonwoo was patient and respectful throughout the whole process, hearing your concerns but also making his side known.

He’d say he trusted you enough to take care of yourself but he’d always be subtly looking after you even if you didn’t notice. Lots of small gestures like putting more food on your plate or getting you juice after practice and opening bottles for you.

woozi!

“This is your fault! Look at what you’ve done to her! Are you proud of yourself?!” Your hearing was muffled but you could make our your boyfriend’s voice in the room, yelling. When you tried opening your eyes, you saw his figure facing your manager, who had a guilty expression on his face. “I told you time and time again that it was too much! You never listened! Now, look what happened! You sacrificed her health for magazine shoots! Are you out of your mind?! You watched her get worse and worse and did nothing! have you no remorse?”

“jihoon-ah...” You whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. Jihoon froze. “baby, come here” His head snapped in your direction, and when he saw you looking at him, the crease between his eyebrows immediately disappeared. His rage had disappeared into thin air, immediately replaced with worry.

“hey, you’re finally awake.” He fell to his knees by your side, smiling weakly. His voice had taken a total 180 from how he was speaking to your manager just a few seconds ago (who was now trying to leave the room without making a single noise, afraid of what Jihoon would do to him).

“what’s going on..? why am I here..?”

“You passed out on stage.”

“I did?” You tried sitting up, but you felt too tired to do so. Jihoon noticed and placed his hand on your back to help you sit up, placing pillows on your back to support you. 

“yeah. everyone was worried. I was worried.” Jihoon breathed, resting his forehead against yours. That was a habit of his whenever he was stressed. You indulged him, letting him hold you for as long as he wanted, knowing how worried he must have been. The silence was broken by a small sniffle coming from your boyfriend. “Jihoon?” You asked, partially worried but also shocked. He rarely cried. “Why are you crying?”

“I can’t take this anymore. Do you have any idea how scared I was?!” He raised his voice a little, a few tears streaking down his cheeks. “You come home at 3 in the morning with barely enough energy to give yourself a bath! You barely eat, you barely sleep, and you barely call anymore. Day and night I worry if you’re okay because you’ve started getting bloody noses often and you have a hard time standing and you don’t even want to eat your favorite foods with me anymore! It’s killing me seeing you like this. The worst part is you won’t talk to me about it! I have to find out through the staff and your friends! Do you have any idea how it makes me feel to find out that my girlfriend’s health is deteriorating right before my eyes and I barely noticed?!”

“Jihoon... I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it was affecting you this much.” You cupped his cheeks and wiped his tears “I’m fine, baby. See? I’m right here. I’m going to be okay”

“You say that but you haven’t shown me anything to back it up. You’re getting worse, y/n. I know your schedule has been hectic because of your comeback but you have to take care of yourself too. If you wont do it for yourself, at least do it for me... please...”

“I will, I’m sorry. I’ll fix it. I’ll make everything right.”

“we.” he corrected “I’m with you, remember? every step of the way. I’d appreciate it if you talked to me more. Let me know when you’re in pain, when you’re tired, or sick. I want to know everything.”

“I will, I promise. I won’t hide anymore. Thank you, love. For everything”

Jihoon didn’t say anything in reply and simply kissed you. He was very patient throughout your recovery and basically nursed you back to health himself. He would often push you but you knew he only wanted what was best for you. Every time you overcame a challenge he gave you he’d reward you with cuddles on the couch or a date. You’re so incredibly lucky to have him.

myungho!

“It’s not healthy, love”

“I know but I… I need to lose weight. I don’t want to disappoint the fans”

“You don’t need to lose weight. You’re perfect. Anyway, your real fans would love you no matter how you look. Just like I do.” He stroked your cheek gently, unable to hide the concern on his face. “and you know I’m your biggest fan, right?”

After minutes of constant reassurance, Myungho finally let you join your group to prepare to go on stage. He watched the performance with his lip caught between his teeth. He doesn’t remember the last time he was this anxious. He knew your group had a difficult choreography, and he scolded you a lot at home for starving yourself to this extent. Myungho had watched your mental health spiral downwards after one particular meeting with your manager, where it all started. No words could possibly express how he felt when he noticed you getting smaller and smaller every time he hugged you. The least he could do was try to reduce your anxiety by cuddling you when you got home, cooking you your favorite snacks, making you tea, or even slow dancing with you to your favorite songs on the record player. He did everything he could, but he couldn’t help you if you didn't want to help yourself, which made it all the more difficult for him to watch.

You were a very sharp person, heck, you were the main dancer. You were a perfectionist, so when he saw you falter on one of the dance steps, he knew something was definitely wrong. You managed to finish the performance, but you were more out of breath than you should have been, and Myungho especially caught the way you couldn’t stand straight while your leader was giving a speech. “Y/n!” He whisper-yelled, which you barely managed to hear. You turned your head and looked at him dead in the eyes “come to me” He mouthed, opening his arms to you. You wanted to walk to him and just rest your weight on him, but you couldn’t seem to feel your legs. All you could do was smile before your vision turned black. 

Myungho instinctively ran towards you and caught you before you hit the ground. He could hear the gasps and camera flashes from the audience but he couldn’t care less about them. “Y/n, baby, wake up.” He silently pleased, cupping your cheek in his hand. One of the staff approached him and said they had to rush you to the waiting room where the medics were waiting. Reluctantly, he let the staff take over, following closely behind.

By the time you regained consciousness you were already at home. Myungho was sitting on a chair next to the bed, holding your hand while he rested his head on a pillow. “Myungho...” You whispered, stirring him awake.

“You’re finally up” He smiled sleepily, moving his hand up to brush your hair back. “I was worried. I’m... really upset with what happened, y/n”

“What happened..?”

“You passed out on stage before I could reach you...”

“Before you could reach me..? Are you saying you went on stage?”

“Yes.”

“Myungho!” You jolted up, immediately regretting it once you felt a surge of pain through your back. Your boyfriend seemed just as surprised as you as he jumped forwards to place a pillow behind you to support your back. “So our relationship... It’s out?!”

“yeah. the public knows.”

“I’m sorry Myungho...” You sighed, letting him shift closer to plant a gentle kiss on your lips.

“You think that’s what I’m upset about?” Myungho stared at you with a mix of irritation and worry in his eyes. He took a deep breath before speaking again.

“Help yourself, y/n. Please. I can’t help you if you don’t help yourself. It hurts seeing you like this. Please let me help you.” His forehead rested against yours, he kept his eyes closed while he spoke gently. 

“Okay... I’m sorry...”

“You should be... Seeing you like that broke my heart, you know?”

It would be a slow process, but Myungho stayed by your side throughout the whole thing. When you couldn’t get yourself to eat, he’d support you, when you felt guilty for eating, he comforted you. He was always there, caring for you and whispering gentle reassurances in your ear until you were healthy again.

mingyu!

"Mingyu!”

“Hyung? What’s up?” Mingyu stared at Seungcheol who was panting by the doorway of the restroom

“It’s y/n.” The older male fought to catch his breath “She passed out on stage.” Mingyu, who was in the middle of drying his hands, froze. 

Everything after that was a blur. He could vaguely remember Seungcheol’s mouth moving as if he were speaking but not actually hearing anything. He could vaguely remember bumping into other idols as he sprinted his way backstage. He could vaguely remember tripping on someone’s foot and falling to the ground but immediately picking himself up and continued running to your room. Though nothing would ever make him forget the image of you lying on your waiting room couch with an oxygen mask strapped to your face.

“What happened?” Mingyu’s tone was low and dark. The only other person in the room was your manager, who placed a water bottle on the coffee table next to you.

“She fainted in the middle of her performance. The members are continuing without her but-”

“No, I meant what happened for things to reach this point? Cause I heard you put her on a 1 apple a day diet. Isn’t that right?” Mingyu towered over your manager with darkness pooling by his face as he looked down on him.

“I-I-”

“So it’s true? Now, why would you do something like that? What could you have been thinking, if you were thinking at all? Surely, you did think about the consequences, right? Of what would happen to her if you pushed her too far, and what would happen to you if she ever got hurt. Right? Do you see how skinny she is?” Your boyfriend harshly grabbed your manager’s shoulder, making him wince and groan. “Look. at. her.” Your manager turned his face to gaze at you, staring at your boney figure and feeling the remorse kick in. “Does the fact that you can see her ribs not concern you? What weight is there left to lose?”

“Gyu...” You groaned, slowly regaining consciousness. Mingyu dug his fingers into your manager’s shoulder and brought him closer.

“Leave the room, now. Y/n will take the rest of the day off to recover and she will not follow the ‘diet’ you’ve prescribed to her any longer.”

“but-”

“Did that sound like a request? You do whatever you need to do to let her have the day off. I. Don’t. Care. She will go home and you will do your job properly this time. Am I clear?” Your manager shook his head up and down frantically before Mingyu finally loosened his grip on him. Your manager practically ran out of the room, fearing to stay in the same room as your boyfriend for another second.

"gyu...” You called for him again, voice louder this time.

“I’m right here, baby. Don’t worry” He sat on the floor to match your eye level, giving you his signature sweet smile. “how are you feeling?” You felt his large hands over your own, rubbing circles at the back of your palm with his thumbs.

“Not so good... I’m a bit hungry...”

“how about this, once you feel better enough to walk, I take you to our favorite tteokbeokki place near home. what do you say?”

You smiled at the thought of going on a date with your boyfriend after stressful practice and passing out on stage, but reality hit you soon after. “I can’t... I’m on a diet... Sorry, Gyu...”

“Don’t worry about that. I had a talk with your manager and he said he’s taking you off that diet. You lost a lot of weight, it wasnt healthy.” He caressed your cheek gently and gazed at you with nothing but love and sincerity in his eyes.

“Are you sure..? Am I not too fat..?”

Mingyu seemed taken aback by the sudden question “Don’t be silly. You’re not fat, stop saying mean things about yourself. And quite frankly, I don’t care what you look like. Big or small, you’ll always be the woman I fell in love with. There’s nothing more I could want from you than to be healthy. that’s all, y/n”

“Do you really mean that?”

“of course...” He tucked stray pieces of hair behind your ear and kissed your cheeks. Mingyu began sensing your insecurity a couple of weeks ago when you didn’t want to wear one of the favorite dresses he got you because you thought your arms looked too big for it. He felt the best approach was to be gentle and supportive, making sure you knew he didn’t care about your weight. Judging by your reaction, that was the right decision.

You never found out about the small altercation between your manager and your boyfriend. That was probably for the best. He didn’t want your perception of him to change. He was still that soft, gentle, sweet boy you always knew, and he would continue to be that to you and the people around you as long as no harm came to you.

Your schedule lightened up and you spent more time at home with your boyfriend, rebuilding your confidence back up one piece at a time.

seokmin!

When Seokmin asked if you were okay, you replied with ‘sure’. He didn’t believe you. Those nights he’d find you awake in the kitchen drinking endless amounts of water, when you almost trip whenever you stand up didn’t slip by him. Still, he didn’t want to pry into what seemed your personal business until you wanted to tell him yourself. Still, he kept a careful eye on you while trying to cheer you up whenever you seemed tired.

Seokmin had many regrets. He regretted not asking what was causing you pain, and not convincing you to turn down that stupid diet. All because he knew he’d never forget how he felt when he saw you fall to the ground in the middle of your performance. He froze. His ears rung from the sound your microphone made when it hit the ground. He couldn’t understand or see anyone else but you lying on that stage while your members called for help. He didn’t care about the cameras. Seokmin got up from his seat immediately and ran backstage to your waiting room.

When you woke up you found Seokmin holding your hand in his palms close to his face with his eyes closed. “Seokmin?” His eyes burst open and he turned to look at you.

“You’re awake. How are you feeling?”

“dizzy… and hungry”

He gave you a small smile. “Here, have this.” Seokmin fed you strawberries and opened a water bottle he bought for you. “Y/n.”

“Yeah?”

“Please don’t scare me like this again.” He kept his eyes on the strawberries he was picking from the box while he said that. Seokmin felt too guilty to look into your eyes.

“I’m sorry, baby” you whispered, but he still didn’t look at you. “Hey, look at me” You placed your hand on his cheek and lifted his head. “It won’t happen again. hm? I’m sorry.”

Seokmin sighed and wrapped his arms around your waist, digging his nose into the crook of your neck. “I’m here, y/n. Please stop acting like i’m not. Tell me when you’re having a hard time. Let me take care of you sometimes. I know you view me as this cheerful and funny boyfriend but you can come to me when you need help too. okay? Im here for better and for worse.”

“Thank you, Seokmin...”

He’d (endearingly) nag you for probably the rest of your relationship. He made it a habit to text you to eat and check up on you. Whenever he was around, regardless of what either of you was doing, when his alarm went off he’d grab a banana, some milk, and walk to you and say “snack time! you need your energy.”

seungkwan!

Both you and Seungkwan were busy. With him going on multiple shows and you being in a hot new girl group, your meetings at home lessened and lessened. Seungkwan noticed you losing weight whenever he saw you, but he never really thought anything of it. That was until you fainted in the middle of your performance.

He’ll never forgive himself for not seeing the signs sooner. You two lived in the same house for god’s sake!

Seungkwan canceled all his schedules for the week and took you to the hospital. There he sat by your side, holding your hand while listening to the traffic from outside the hospital window. “I’m sorry. I should have known. I didn’t know you were getting this bad...” He sighed, placing his hand on your forehead, feeling your unusually high body temperature. You had a fever, were dehydrated, overworked, and burned out. You passed out from exhaustion and still hadn’t woken up after 13 hours. 

When you finally woke up, you found Seungkwan holding your hand while his head and arms rested on your hospital bed. He was asleep. “Seungkwan... baby wake up.”

“y/n, you’re awake...”

“What am I doing here..?”

“You passed out from exhaustion... you’ve been sleeping for almost a day”

It took a few sentences to process what your boyfriend had said. “Fuck... my schedules!” You tried tgo sit up in a panic but Seungkwan placed a hand on your shoulder.

“Slow down, baby. Everything’s okay. You’re on a break right now, I took care of everything. Just focus on resting okay?”

He rubbed your arms up and down, relaxing you. When you finally settled down again, Seungkwan smiled, kissing your cheek. “Hey uh... I’m sorry for not taking care of you better... We live in the same house but I didn’t even notice something was wrong.”

“It’s not your fault... I didn’t know I had already lost control of my health... I was too busy...”

“we both were...” You held his hand and intertwined your fingers with his own. “Listen, I want you to know that even if we both get busy, you can still talk to me okay? Tell me when you don’t feel well or need me and I’ll make time for you... I always will...”

“Thank you... I hope you know I’m here for you too. I know your schedule is tiring too...”

“You know, long days at work aren’t so bad either. It just means more excitement for when I get to go home and see you again” He winked, nudging your elbow in a playful manner

“Oh stop it~” You giggled, pushing his arm

You two laughed together for the first time in weeks. “Okay so here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re taking this week off and spending it at home. I’ll be attending less interviews, and your manager will be making your schedule more flexible. We’ll get you a dietitian too. Just so you can get back to a healthy weight.”

“That all sounds.... great, baby. Thank you.”

What happened to you traumatized Seungkwan, but he was also thankful for the experience. It was a wake-up call for both of you. Ever since then, you two spent more time together at home, talking about each other’s days and ranting and taking care of each other. Seungkwan never failed to make you smile with his daily checkups on you when he called. 

vernon!

Vernon, who had just returned to Korea after touring for months, was more than thrilled to see you again. He sat with his group, biting his lip in a weak attempt to hold back a smile while you were on stage performing. But as soon as he saw you walk on stage, his smile faded. When did you get so thin? and pale? Your hair looked like it’d gotten thinner too... His members all glanced at him, seeing his shocked and confused expression. 

“Yah, is Y/n okay?” Seungkwan nudged Vernon's elbow

“I... I don’t know... She sounded alright over the phone but this...” He couldn’t even form words to reply to his member. You looked like a different person. All the members took notice of how much you struggled on stage. You were out of breath, tripping, and faltering at every difficult move. It was a miracle that you made it to the end of the performance. 

When the lights shut off, everyone heard something drop. The gasps of your members had indicated to everyone that there was an accident. While the lights were still off, Vernon rose from his seat and quickly made his way backstage. By the time he got there you were surrounded by staffs who were fanning you, placing ice packs on your neck and making sure the oxygen mask was strapped to your face.

Vernon took a deep sigh as he gazed at your frail state. When your manager walked into the room and saw Vernon standing in the corner of the room, a shiver ran up his spine. He immediately asked the other staff to step out of the room and give you space. Before he was able to slip out of the room, Vernon grabbed his wrist tightly. “I’m having a word with you later. Don’t think you can run from me.” He growled, harshly releasing your managers wrist and letting him scurry away.

Vernon pulled a stool over and sat by your side, gently stroking your hair before resting his head in his hands. “How did i not notice?” “I should’ve asked how she was doing...” “I should’ve checked up on her more.” “i should’ve-”

“Hansol...” You weakly called for him, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Hey baby” He weakly grinned, tucking your hair behind your ear. “You okay?” He asked. You obviously weren’t, but he didn’t know what to say with the adrenaline still pumping in his veins.

“I’m fine...” It was a weak attempt at trying to ease his nerves, because you both knew you were lying.

“bullshit.” Vernon said sternly “how long has this being going on?”

“How long has what been going on?”

“Don’t play coy with me. You know exaclty what I’m talking about.”

You took a deep breath, this was going to be tough for you. “About a week after you left for tour...” If it wasn’t for the sound of your breathing, the room would have been quiet enough for you to hear Vernon’s heart shatter. “I just lost control... I didn’t know it was this bad... I was too busy to notice and I just... I wanted to be pretty. Not just for my group’s comeback but I wanted to be prettier for you when you came back too-”

“Y/n what are you saying?” Vernon’s comment made you glance up to meet his confused gaze. His eyebrows were stitched together with his lips slightly parted in disbelief. “Do you hear what you’re saying right now? You wanted to be pretty? Pretty for when I came back? What does that even mean?” He sighed, cupping your cheeks. “You’re beautiful, y/n. You always have been. if thats not enough and you still want to take measures to help you feel more confident in your skin, the alright, I’ll support you. But never at the cost of your health.”

Tears trickled down your cheeks and Vernon was there to kiss each one away. “I love you, Hansol.”

“I know. Do you know I love you?”

He’d be very gentle yet persistent in your recovery. He’d make sure you ate enough food even if you whined and complained about it. After particularly large meals he’d spend hours cuddling you in the bedroom and kissing your arms, stomach and legs just to let you know that he loved your body no matter how it looked like.

chan!

“I’m not letting you go out there!” Chan sighed

“who are you to tell me what to do!”

“Your boyfriend, who cares about you a lot.” He tried to gently plead with you. “I can’t let you go on stage in the state that you’re in. You just threw up, you’re dizzy, dehydrated, exhausted and it shows.”

“I can’t, Chan. This is the last performance for this comeback, I can’t let everyone down.”

“Y/n-” Before he could try reasoning with you again, you were called onto stage to perform. Chan was pacing around while keeping his eyes on the screen your entire performance. Other idols approached him and asked him if he was okay, to which he just responded to with a wave of his hand and a brief nod. Even his members came out of the waiting room and tried to calm him down because he had been out for a while. He wouldn't leave. Towards the end of your performance, Chan was already waiting by the side of the main stage, waiting for you. You made a big bow, waved towards the cameras and glanced at him. His face was pale with worry and his hands couldn't seem to stay still. You weakly made your way towards him but collapsed right before you were able to completely exit the stage. The crowd saw the lower half of your body hit the ground and murmurs could he heard in the audience. 

Chan cautiously kneeled down and pulled your body towards his own, out of sight from others. He cradled your head gently in his arms “Y/n, baby, wake up.” After you didn’t respond, he quickly lifted you bridal style and carried you to your waiting room. The staff tended to you as well as they could before they gave you and Chan space. He didn’t realize he was going it, but when he was sitting next to you he started to gently massage your palms. Pressing on the soft flesh with his thumbs.

“That feels nice...” You whispered as you slowly regained consciousness.

“Y/n! You’re awake!” He smiled, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek. “You worried me...”

“Did I pass out?” 

Chan nodded gently “You need rest. Please, take a break. And please eat.” He tucked stray pieces of your hair behind your ear while he spoke. 

“What if i gain weight?” 

“So what? What matters is that you’re healthy, and happy. Let me help you, hm? Let me take care of you for once...”

He’d be very gentle and tender with you during your recovery. He’d talk to you sweetly and praise you for every achievement big or small.

authors note: to the person who requested this, im sorry this took literally forever but i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless <33

[lightless-flame-official]

gerry keay (classic flavor):

skinny. not in a way most people notice off the bat, because he's quite tall and very good at looking big, but leitner hunting burns a lot of calories and he's been chronically underfed for most of his life

eye tattoos on each of his joints, placed there by supernatural means as a protective ward against other powers

his hair always looks like shit for several reasons, including but not limited to:

- he doesn't like to dye it when his mother is around, both because of the vulnerability of the position and because he doesn't like to be Perceived by her while doing anything he actually. ya know. enjoys. this means that it has a lot of time to fade and his roots grow out.

- if she's around too often for a stretch of time, he has to find a local business he hasn't already been banned from and rinse it out in one of their sinks. this leaves it looking understandably patchy and rushed.

- the dye he uses is cheap as hell -- having his own money is an occasional luxury which cannot be taken for granted.

- he just. generally doesn't take care of himself and his hair suffers overall as a result. he doesn't shower often enough and when he does he uses precisely one (1) type of soap. and it's like. if they have irish springs bar soaps in england then it's that and if they don't then it's the closest equivalent.

he isn't actually like. goth. as we would think of it.

black clothes don't show bloodstains and they made him feel safe edgy and dangerous as a teenager.

we're talking thrift store jeans purchased when he was 16 an never replaced. maybe some band tees. boots for marching into a den of hunt avatars.

the leather jacket is also secondhand and while yes he does feel very badass and cool in it it's also a practical piece. good for fighting. especially when the people you're fighting might have claws or want to set you on fire.

sewing needle piercings with visible scarring around them.

he just generally looks. kinda sick all the time? again, not something that usually registers because he's also good at being intimidating but if you're looking for it there's all kinds of evidence of chronic sleep deprivation and malnutrition. he looks unhealthy, concerning.

gerry keay (tmagp):

goth. like, real goth. like buying from thrift stores still but more often and having fun with it now.

we're talking fishnets. we're talking eyeliner. we're talking black lipstick. we're talking absurd and impractical jewelry. we're talking dabbles in lacy skirts and definitely owns a corset. and yes he still wears a leather jacket but exclusively because it feels cool and badass. he's goth babey!

no longer skinny. precise body type is whatever your heart tells you is true but three square meals agree with him and he's gained a very noticeable amount of weight.

the hair dye is still not professional, his roots grow in occasionally and it's still a bit patchy, because he's still doing it at home, but also. he's doing it at home. it's fun, and he has fun with it. the dye is better quality. gertrude helps him with touchups. black is still a favorite but he's dabbled in other colors, dark purples and greens and blues.

loves to be covered in stuff. when he's baking, he will intentionally smear flour on his black pants and make it look accidental, and when he paints he doesn't wash his hands. this is partially so he can see the evidence himself, and partially because he wants people to notice it and ask. he wants to say, "oops, i was baking earlier, i must've wiped my hands on my pants."

he still has shitty irresponsible piercings from when he was a teenager. the more recent ones are more professional.

his tattoos are pretty and useless. he designed most of them himself.

there's color in his face. sleeping gets a little easier every night.

[lelengerine]

to have you

pairing | streamer!hyuck x streamer!reader

synopsis | your sleeping schedules never fail to worsen, but in luck, you have him to ease those troubles — just don’t mind the stream in the background, of course.

genre | established relationship, reader uses she!her pronouns once in this, use of nicknames for reader (baby, love) and hyuck (babe)

wc | 0.9k

notes | another gamer hyuck oneshot because im actually obsessed its unhealthy atp ;0; i'd love to know your thoughts on this one!

m.list

its three in the morning, and the thuds of your soles echo through the quiet hallway as you walk down the familiar path to your boyfriend’s room — highly unaware said boyfriend is live on twitch for a 38 hour streaming challenge (courtesy of renjun doubting he couldn’t pull it off). 

you had been trying to fall asleep for the last hour, knowing all too well your sleeping schedule was declining from bad to even worse. yet no matter how much you toss and turn in hopes of falling into a comfortable position, nothing seems to make your eyelids droopy enough to fall asleep.

in the end, you sat up from the comfort provided by your bed, slipped your feet into a pair of fluffy slippers, and started trudging your way over to wherever your boyfriend was  — hence why you were currently approaching his room at this ungodly hour in the first place.

you twist the cold, metal doorknob open,  the amount of lights currently in use blinding you for a brief moment. “hyuck, what are you doing?” you question with a groggy voice, rubbing your eyes to hopefully ease them to the brightness of the room. 

“baby? what are you doing up?” haechan awkwardly moves himself closer to the camera to block you out as much as possible, knowing you probably haven’t realized the camera filming him all this time. 

user_01: Y/N IS HERE??

user_02: is that why he’s blocking the cam?

“couldn’t sleep.” the frustrated whine you let out only fuels haechan’s chat as they get affirmation on your presence in the room. 

you, on the other hand, only notice your boyfriend’s streaming materials properly set up after an entire minute had already passed. he’d usually store them away in one of the drawers so that meant…

 a wave of shock washes over you at the late realization, eyes flicking wide open as you crouch down to hide yourself in the current state you were in. “oh my god, im so sorry!”

“noo y/n, love. it’s fine, hm? just fulfilling my part of a bet with renjun.” your boyfriend reassures you, stepping away from his desk to crouch down at your level, meeting your dazed eyes. he gently cups your face with the palms of his hands, placing a gentle kiss on your lips — the feeling still lingering even after he had already pulled away.

user_03: SOMEONE CLIP THIS VOD ITS TOO CUTE

user_04: hii y/n!! we’re all just chilling with hyuck dont be shy :>

user_05: @.user_03 I GOTCHU BFF

“i should’ve checked if you were up to something.” you mumble, soft enough to not get picked up by the audio from haechan’s mic.

“you didn’t know, it’s okay.” he giggles, the bubbly sound lifting your spirit by a little. “plus, you were all cute being whiny about sleep.”

you laugh along with him, lightly smacking his chest. “you’re literally the only one who’d think that.” 

“i better be!” he protests with a gasp, “can’t have any others seeing you all cute and huggable like that. that’s part of my boyfriend rights.”

“what do i get in return then?”

“you, my love, get an unlimited pass to get cuddled by yours truly.”

“i think you benefit from that more than i do, babe.”

“do not!” haechan lets out a gasp, “but really, i can help you fall asleep- if you don’t mind the stream that is…”

“i think i’ve fallen asleep enough times on my own streams to not care, hyuck.” you chuckle, letting him lead you over to his desk.

he pulls a comfy chair from the side, patting the cushion to let you know where to sit. you give him a small smile, grateful he’s taking care of you despite his stream ongoing. 

once you get confortable enough, your boyfriend gently guides your head to his shoulder before mindlessly reaching out to play with your hair while reading the chat messages. you’ve realized he formed a habit of doing so quite early on into your relationship. 

it wasn’t like you minded it either, in fact, it was rather the opposite. to you, it was a soothing gesture he’d do every time the two of you were about to sleep. perhaps, you’ve grown too used to the feeling, to the point you couldn't sleep without it. without him. 

god, you’re so thankful to have him by your side.

user_06: i want what they have :(((

user_07: you guys are the cutest W(`0`)W

you doze off before knowing it, your boyfriend chuckling to himself at how your lips go agape ever so slightly. “chat, isn’t my baby just the cutest?”

user_08: you mean OUR baby?”

haechan reads that comment aloud for the rest of his viewers to hear. “now where are you guys getting that from?? y/n is mine, back away!”

user_09: BRO URE GNA WAKE Y/N UP

user_10: NOT MY STRIMER (￣^￣)ゞ

user_11: Y/N CALLS US HER BABIES TOO DURING STREAMS- WE ALL HAVE RIGHTS

“as if.” haechan scoffs in faux annoyance, opting to hug you a little tighter than he was before (to quote and quote assert his dominance over chat). “you guys are probably jealous of me, huh? i’m the one who has y/n in their arms.”

“and i hope it stays like this forever.” he whispers, a growing smile on his face as he glances down, glad he’s the lucky one who does have you in his arms.

[koinotame]

i do (only exist for you)

word count: 1.8K content warnings: unhealthy relationship dynamics, objectification (not at reader), violence (relatively vague/not super explicit but not minor), emetophobia, they/them is used for reader

characters included: childe

a/n: this is a repost (heavily edited in some parts, lightly edited in others)! and a sequel to this. like the previous installment, you can read this as a standalone modern au thing, but it'll make more sense with the previous context. also on ao3! next part

the two of you aren’t actually married yet, but with the way your ajax treats you, you might as well be.

"I’ve placed your lunch in your bag along with the homework assignments you left out yesterday. remember to eat it this time, okay? and don’t forget the train leaves late today." you’re too sleepy to protest as he sticks your arms into a coat, one that you only realise is his once he’s done zipping it up.

"we’re going to the same class," you supply groggily, rubbing at your eye while he smoothes out your hair. "…didn’t you go to sleep after me? where do you get all this energy from?"

"yeah, but it feels more homely if I tell you all this before we leave the apartment." he says, smoothening out your hair again (you think he just likes having an excuse to touch you) and wrapping a scarf loosely around your neck.

you’re surprised he hasn’t started calling it our apartment at this point, but you’re not going to give him the idea lest he actually starts doing so.

he puts a surprising amount of effort into tucking the scarf into his coat properly, and you have to admit he’s very good at bundling you up. you feel super cozy. "being able to care for you is all the motivation I need to wake up early to make you breakfast."

you hum, pressing your head into his shoulder, close to drifting off again, until his words set in and you recoil. "wait wait, how early exactly? please tell me you got more than three hours of sleep."

he laughs heartily, his hand coming up to caress your cheek. "aww, are you worried about me?" you weakly swat at his arm and he laughs again. "don’t worry, don’t worry, not that early. I woke up at seven."

you sigh and he pulls you in for a kiss. when he pulls away, his eyes are full of adoration. "I love you."

"the bed was empty when I woke up at six briefly."

he chuckles again, but it has a nervous tinge this time. "aha, busted…"

you sigh once more, zipping up his coat for him. he beams down at you as you do, fondness dancing in the way his eyes creak whenever he’s in your presence. "come on, we’re going to be late."

"right," he says, picking up both of your bags and holding on to your hand and then somehow still locking the door behind you singlehandedly.

the two of you burst out laughing when you realise he forgot to take off his apron when you arrive and take off your coats.

"all the more to prove to everyone else I’m your soon-to-be husband." he winks at you, ruffling your hair when you tell him there’s still a couple years left before either of you graduate.

"ajax."

he sighs contently, nuzzling into you. "I love it when you say my name."

"ajax," you say his name slightly louder, "let me out."

the arms around you tighten. "no."

you groan, throwing your head back. "ajax, I need to load the washing machine."

he whines against the crook of your neck. "no, you don’t."

"ajax…"

"I can do it later, okay? don’t leave my arms."

"your arms are not the only thing trapping me here," you say, but his legs just tighten around you and you find yourself even more pressed against his chest. "and someone needs to do it."

he whines again. "I don’t like it when you leave my arms."

you poke his side, unimpressed. "we can hold hands while I do it then."

he tuts, pressing his face deeper into your hair. the next time he speaks, it’s directly above your ear. he sounds more serious than he usually does. "but you shouldn’t have to do any work. I wish you just sat back and let me do it all."

you sigh. this sort of conversation has been happening more and more frequently lately, especially since you accepted his proposal. "come on, not this again… a healthy relationship is about giving and taking in eq—"

"but I want to do all the giving and I want you to do all the taking." you close your mouth and stop talking when he presses you further into him. "I meant it, you know? I want to take care of you."

frustration seeps through his words when he speaks, more than you’ve ever heard from him before. "aren’t people supposed to like it when they’re spoiled? you’re the most special person in my life, and I want to do everything for you. you shouldn’t have to lift a finger, and I hate that this world is so against that. if this were…"

he cuts himself off and quiets for a few seconds. with your face still pressed against his chest, the only thing you can hear is your quiet breathing and his heartbeat.

"I hate that you won’t let me treat you like you should be treated."

"ajax…" your hand moves up from where it was resting on his back to comb through his hair gently.

he whimpers and squishes his face against the side of your head. "I really love it when you say my name."

both of you remain quiet for a bit. you’re tempted to forget about the laundry, close your eyes and drift off, when ajax speaks up again. "I’m yours. you shouldn’t hesitate to make use of me."

even in the heat of the moment, that sort of line sounds a lot more romantic in fiction.

he coos into your ear when you scratch his head lightly. "ajax, you don’t just exist to be used by others. there’s more to you than just that."

"I do," he insists, but quiets down and doesn’t argue further.

"I do only exist for you," he says again, a while later when you’ve pretty much fallen asleep in his arms.

even after two years of living together, you still refuse to use him as you should or let him treat you like you deserve to be treated. it makes him feel all sorts of bitter; he doesn’t want to (and doesn’t deserve to) force you into anything, but whenever you push him away, it stings.

whenever you put distance between the two of you and insist on straining yourself, he feels like he’s failed you. it just further drives home that he’s really so worthless that you can’t rely on him, and he knows this isn’t a problem getting stronger for you will fix.

it’s been a long, long time since he felt this useless. he loathes the feeling.

ajax stretches, not missing the opportunity to flex his body. "that was fun! I don’t mind if you cling onto me a bit more next time, though… you’re so cute when you get startled by the jumpscares."

"mhm, sure." you pay his obvious attempt at showing off no mind and instead let out a yawn. "want to get something to eat? I’m hungry."

"are you sure you don’t want to head home?" you nod, reaching for his hand. he intertwines his fingers with yours eagerly. "do you have any place in mind? my treat."

"it’s always your treat." you roll your eyes, but lead him towards the restaurant you’d been thinking of regardless.

"of course," he laughs. "what sort of fiancé would I be if I didn’t pay for your food?"

"what sort of fiancé does that make me, then?"

he laughs and you remember why you fell in love with him again.

"don’t be silly. it’s your job to get spoiled rotten by me." he tugs on your arm, pulling you closer to him, and presses his lips to your cheek.

"if you spoil me too much I’ll go bad for real, you know."

despite the joking undertone, he looks displeased and he tugs on your cheek, pouting. "of course not. and even if you did, I’ll still love you."

you huff, unable to stop yourself from laughing, and elbow him. "you’re so—"

you cut yourself off when you notice the hooded person standing imposingly in front of both of you. immediately, you feel ajax stiffen and step slightly in front of you, but he doesn’t seem particularly threatened so much as just wary and protective.

once he realises he’s been noticed, the man in front of the both of you tilts his head. "hand over all your money, and I won’t have to get violent."

"hah," ajax barks, sardonic and entirely foreign to your ears. "I don’t think so."

the next few moments go by in a flash.

grunting, the attempted mugger pulls out a knife and dives forward. you barely register how you’ve stepped back out of instinct before he’s completely soaked and there’s a large gash across his torso.

nobody moves for a couple seconds, until the guy’s eyes trail down hesitantly and he goes white. his arms immediately come to cradle his stomach. "what the fuck—"

it takes you another second to realise what’s happened. bile rises up your throat.

there’s a part of you that’s relieved it’s winter, that the sun has already set and there’s not too many people around, that you’re not about to get robbed at knifepoint.

"I’ll kill you if you touch them." your fiancé’s tone is much darker than you’ve ever heard when he speaks. you’ve always known he wasn’t the type to shy away from conflict, but the way he says it just after cutting open someone else makes the hair on your arms raise.

"you fucking bitch—" the other guy doesn’t get a chance to get anything else out before ajax kicks him. you feel your stomach tense at the squelching sound he makes when ajax’s foot comes into contact with his torso.

you feel worse when he grabs the man’s hair and wrist, a pained shout and loud crunch accompanying the drop of the knife.

the hairs at the base of your head rise at his tone. "I told you, don’t touch them." you block out the rest of what he says, but from the way the mugger’s face pales even further it can’t have been anything good.

you swallow down the urge to vomit and tug on ajax’s sleeve. for a moment, you’re worried he’s going to turn violent on you, but it barely takes him a second to turn to you, and when he does his face is relaxed and smiling like he usually does.

whatever your expression looks like, he softens as soon as he sees it. his hands are off the mugger soon and then he’s all but pulling you into his chest. you think you hear the guy run off, but it’s hard to focus on anything but the way ajax soothingly rubs your back and murmurs apologies into the crown of your head.

if he feels how much you’re shaking, he doesn’t comment on it. or rather, he just apologises more.

you have a feeling he’s apologising more for the fact that you saw him like that and that he scared you than what he actually did.

and above all, you hate the part of you that feels exhilarated about him loving you.

[chaoscharme]

Self Care Activities that Actually Help

My list of practical, achievable and useful self care tips that will actually improve your mood instead of enabling you to wallow.

Reply to your correspondence

Often if we feel low or our motivation is down, we find it tricky to respond to messages and calls from others. This allows unopened messages to pile up which creates stress and even panic. Instead of trying to ignore this problem, set a timer for 15 minutes. Then give yourself those 15 minutes to respond to as many of those messages as possible, starting with the most urgent messages first. If you cannot complete all the messages, take a minute to reevaluate. Can you give yourself another 15 minutes to finish the task today? If not, that’s fine. Assign the task for tomorrow, and repeat the process when you feel refreshed. If you are not able to give a thorough response to all of your contacts, I recommend drafting a universal message to send, stating that you are currently occupied and you hope to offer them a more appropriate message over the coming days. You can tailor this message to suit your needs and circumstances, and it reduces the amount of pressure on you to offer explanations for your absences.

Wash your clothes

Take the clothes you are wearing off. All of them. Strip your bed. Gather up any towels or tea cloths you can find. Wash them all. I cannot overstate the benefit of living in a clean environment, and wearing clean clothes. Even if you can’t wash everything, wash the essentials, and make sure you are wearing fresh clothes from head to toe. You can swap pyjamas out for more pyjamas, what you wear doesn’t matter. Just make sure they’re clean.

Water

Drink a pint of water with nothing added, no fruit, no cordial, nothing. Just drink a pint of water in one sitting. You are almost definitely dehydrated, just like everyone else. Hydration provides mental clarity, energy, and even relives stress. It reduces pains and aches in the body. It helps quell nausea and heartburn. Water is the quickest and easiest way to reduce physical pain or discomfort throughout the day. By keeping hydrated, you’re improving your quality of life almost instantly.

Stretch in bed or on the sofa

The last thing most of us want to do when we feel low or unmotivated is going for a run, or working out at the gym. Instead of pushing yourself to get a serious or intense workout in, try some stretches you can do from the comfort of your bed or sofa. Stretches will help relieve tension in the body and can increase your energy throughout the day. You don’t have to do anything crazy, just a couple of simple, effective stretches will do the trick.

Eat a “healthy” carb

People so often try to avoid eating carbs as they think carbohydrates are inherently unhealthy. This is simply not the case. While carbohydrates are often used in the production of unhealthy treats such as cakes, cookies and pies, they are not fundamentally bad for you. Carbs are our main source of energy, and if you’re feeling low energy is exactly what you need. Try eating a healthier alternative to those instant sugar rush carbs, such as rice, wholemeal pastas or breads, potatoes or oats. You can add other ingredients to these meals, such as berries to oats or some veg to pasta, to make a more filling meal. Everyone eats differently, but we all need carbohydrates in our diet to provide energy and nutrition, alongside other food groups. Creating a balanced diet is much more important than eating “healthy” all the time. Respect your body by fuelling it appropriately and regularly.

Clean yourself as best you can

Have a shower. Take your makeup off. Brush your hair. Clip your nails. Put deodorant on. Brush your teeth. Wash your hands. You might not have the energy for a full “everything shower” but you can probably do one of the things listed above to make yourself feel better about yourself and your hygiene. Don’t berate yourself if you’ve gone a while without practicing any of these for a while, life can be pretty difficult. Just accept your current situation and try to better it as best you can with the energy you now have.

Please reach out to a trusted person or a qualified professional if you feel you need extra support for any reason. You are not alone and you do not need to suffer in silence. Support is there.

Mwah, Chaoscharme

[urperfectcinnamonroll07]

Period Tracker

requested?: no pairing(s): kim mingyu x afab!gn!reader genre: fluff, mentions of sex (not full detail) warning(s): mentions of periods, reader is said to have periods, but there is no specific gender summary: 𝘯/𝘢 word count: 619 a/n: lemme know if you want a full fic with the last scenario;). im trying to get things done because i'm gonna take a small (yeah right) break bc im going to spain soon and i dont rlly wanna take my laptop over th border and i dont have word on my phone lol. either way, i will try my hardest to get things done before i go, i will be giving you updates as i go, telling you when i will be gone and when i will most likely be back yk. make sure to eat and drink something, love yas, mwah!

mingyu is like your little personal period tracker

like

you need to know when your period is and you reach for your phone?

no need

mingyu is there to save the day

he KNOWS when your ovulating

and he knows how to get under your skin while you are

(black compress shirt and grey sweats)

and it works

your surprised you’re not pregnant by now

the amount of times you have both fucked when you were ovulating

its unhealthy

but brilliant exercise

either way

a few days before your period, he gets tons of snacks

and i mean TONS

cupboard doors are practically falling off with how much he bought

he also restocks your period supplies

like tampons, pads pantie liners, etc

and painkillers

he also makes sure you’re comfortable when you are on your period

like

he makes sure you have all of your stuffed animals, blankets, etc

makes sure he massages your stomach

helps with your cramps

strokes your sides with his knuckles when you are falling asleep

runs you a hot bath with scented candles, bath bombs, bubbles and everything

sits with you in it aswell

washes your hair

he doesn’t let you move whatsoever

like

you need to get up to get some painkillers

don’t fear, mingyu will go get them for you

he will only let you get up to move if its to change your pad/tampon

literally never would piss you off either

he knows your limits yk

he’s very careful in what he says

a few days before your period, you started cramping. you were about to go grab your phone which you left in the kitchen. you were literally so close to tapping on the app that would track your period when a certain someone came up behind you.

“you’re gonna start in two days” you didn’t trust him initially, but since you then forgot which app you were going on your phone for, you nodded and walked away, heavily doubting that you would.

but here you were, two days later, waking up to the most excruciating cramps you had ever had. you looked down, and alone behold, your perfect white sheets were now stained red with your blood. you groaned and flopped back down into a lying position when the man himself, kim mingyu, came in with two plates, both filled with your favourite breakfast.

“i told you you would start today baby” he mused, handing you a plate, which you accepted with a mutter of a thanks.

a week later, your period had ended and you were close to ovulating, which mingyu always knew. the circles on the calander told you so. and here you were, just coming downstairs from what you would call the best nap of your life, when something caught your eye.

or rather, someone. he was stood in the corner of the kitchen, facing you. he didn’t look up from his phone as you entered, rubbing your eyes and yawning, until you turned to him.

“had a good nap?” he says over the top of his phone.

your jaw almost hit the floor, your eyes practically popping out of your sockets as you took him in. his hair was wet from the shower he must have had not long ago, when you were asleep. he was wearing a black compress shirt which showed off his thick muscly arms, which paired perfectly with his grey sweats. you just KNEW he had no boxers on underneath as you could see his length perfectly through the material. you groaned into your hands, he looked up from his phone and looked down at you.

“you can’t do that, i’m ovulating” you whine, mingyu just smirks.

“oh i know baby”

[nymph-ette111]

pls write Simon henriksson headcanons I’m gnawing at the walls of my enclosure 👩‍🦲

WARNINGS; SUBSTANCE ABUSE (SMOKING/DRUGS) MENTIONS OF MENTAL ILLNESS (DEPRESSION/ANXIETY) MENTIONS OF INTERNALIZED MISOGYNY, UNHEALTHY COPING MECHANISMS (SELF-HARM)

AUTHOR'S NOTE; FIRST CRY OF FEAR REQUEST LET'S FUCKING GOOOO !1!1!1!1!1!!1!! kind of short, still new to the fandom so my headcanons of the characters might change overtime.

-it was confirmed that Simon is a fan of heavy metal and DSBM :3 personally I am not an avid listener of this genre, I think it's pretty cool. I'd like to headcanon specific bands that I think are suiting for Simon but I barely know anything so I don't really have a say on this.

-probably has some sort of internalized misogyny. he grew up all alone, his mother being quite overprotective didn't help with that at all and seeing no mentions of his father in the game makes me think his parents were divorced quite early in Simon's life. being exposed to such settings at a young age might have messed with his perception of love and healthy romantic relationships. despite that, he doesn't care much about gender norms now that he's older. left that mindset long ago.

-picked up on his coping mechanisms in his early teens. he was a bit scared at first of trying something like self-harm, it took him him a lot of time and internal conflict but then decided to just fuck it, he had nothing to lose. felt guilty at first, dropped it for a bit and then picked up on it again. he knows it isn't a healthy way to deal and cope with his negative thoughts but he couldn't care less at that point.

-isn't unfamiliar with drugs but not that crazy about it. not as much as cigarettes, although he does it occasionally, he could still smoke like a pack in one sitting if the situation really called for it. usually just sticks to 2-3 cigs, thinks it's a good enough amount.

^ can you tell I have no idea what I'm talking about.

-you'll never get that crusty ass grey hoodie of his off of him. it's like a cartoon where the character's never change outfit throughout the entire show. besides the fact that it's a literal video game, even in his daily life he almost never switches things up. not necessarily dirty, just worn out and stained with stuff that doesn't want to come off no matter how many times he washes it.

-has a mini fridge full of energy drinks in his room. and by full I mean like two cans because the rest have been consumed and thrown somewhere onto the ground.

-cannot save money for the life of him. as soon as he gets his hands on some cash, it's immediately spent on either a pack of cigarettes or some useless shit. he doesn't even remember what he spends it on, it's just gone.

-hadn't picked up his camera in quite a while, he's slowly loosing grip on his interests. not necessarily because he is starting to dislike them, just doesn't have the motivation.

-but it's usually full of recordings of him on the train, lonely streets of Stockholm or some stray cat that has grown a liking to Simon for some odd reason.

-one time Sophie took his camera without telling him and recorded a small video of herself, just doing something simple like a peace sign or showing off a little doodle she drew in her notebook. despite trying his best to move on, he watches that video from time to time.

[courtforshort15]

My Own Worst Enemy

Pairing: Matt Murdock x GN Reader

Word Count: 5,400

Summary: There are some things that are just too shameful to talk about, each mark on your skin a testament to a sense of pain and desperation that you’re unsure how to talk about.

Trigger warning: This is a bit of a heavy one, so read with caution. Self-harm, unhealthy coping mechanisms, and mentions of suicide (reader does not commit suicide, but it is brought up briefly.)

Masterlist

You were a hypocrite. A dirty rotten hypocrite. To the highest extreme. For all you spoke about Matt needing to talk to someone, to develop healthy coping mechanisms for all the pain and trauma he had endured, you've struggled to do the same.

Struggled, and often failed.

The first time you slipped since you’d started dating him, it was easy enough to pass off as an accident. The man was a human lie detector, sure, but you had learned by now that if you spoke enough of the truth, he couldn't always pick up on the part you kept hidden from him. You hated to admit it, but you sometimes took advantage of it, telling yourself that it would hurt him to know the truth, that he was better off not knowing where your thoughts sometimes strayed into a depression so encompassing that you struggled to breathe.

"What happened here?" he asked as he cradled your wrist gently in his hands. Your wrist wasn't bleeding, per se, but it was rubbed raw to the point where it was red and patches of skin were missing. It was sore and agitated, washed with a bar of soap that had left it stinging even more, the flesh angry in the face of your failure to seek help instead of hurting yourself.

"Oh," you said, eyeing the mark as casually as possible, voice wavering just the tiniest amount, "I just scratched myself. No big deal." He pressed a kiss to the skin next to it tenderly, before sliding his fingers through yours and focusing back on the notes his computer was reading back to him through the ear buds that were squished into his ears.

No further questions on his end, and you sighed in relief, masking it as a yawn and leaning back into the couch, energy zapped out by a seemingly simple question and a feigned simple response.

You'd scratched yourself, yes, so that part wasn't a lie. But he didn't know it had been done on purpose.

He didn't know that the pain had soothed you at the time. Matt was a bit of a masochist himself, ending most of his nights bleeding and bruised, not because he necessarily enjoyed it, but because he believed it was a small price to pay for keeping Hell’s Kitchen safe. He may not enjoy the pain, but he enjoyed the release of anger, the letting go of every frustration experienced by the law not being enough to help innocent people, enjoyed the opportunity to use his abilities and not be forced into the lie of being an ordinary blind man.

If Matt knew that you purposefully hurting yourself, for nothing other than taking your mind off the ache in your heart, there might be a part of him that understood, but it would not stop the overwhelming sense of horror.

When he noticed the second time, it was during a night out at Josie's, celebrating the end of a grueling work week with Foggy and Karen, both of whom were sharing a bottle of the worst tasting liquor you had ever had the displeasure of drinking. Sometimes you weren’t sure if it was because they actually enjoyed it, or if they were still trying to drink frugally despite the recent success and profit of Nelson, Murdock & Page. You joined halfway through the night, stumbling up to their table in desperate need of a drink after a meeting that had lasted far too long into the evening hours. 

By the time you got there, they were all halfway on their way to drunk, Matt included, his lips tilted into a relaxed smile that was far too charming. He stood up with a loud exclamation of your name, reaching forward to pull you into him and laying an enthusiastic kiss on your mouth as you laughed. When he stepped back, his hand drifted down your arm to pull you by the wrist in an effort to bring you to the empty chair by his, but you hissed as his fingers inadvertently trailed down the large scratch that had been carved into your forearm.

Matt seemed to have noticed it at the same time you tried to pull away, frowning as he pushed your sleeve up. His head tilted curiously as it always when he found a puzzle he couldn't quite figure out.

"What happened here?" His words were slightly slurred, and you were grateful that while his attention was on you, it definitely wasn’t the typical extreme laser-focus you were used to, likely due to the liquor coursing through his veins. 

You gave the same excuse.

"Nothing, just scratched myself." A pause, a nod, and the subject was easily forgotten. Matt, normally so astute and observant, smiled when he was assured that you were ok, and pulled you back in for another kiss. Foggy and Karen took turns greeting you, Josie handed you your normal drink order, and the night passed on without incident. 

It wasn't like you liked doing it, enjoyed hiding things from him, enjoyed hurting yourself. He didn't make it easy to keep things from him, at any rate, usually so perceptive and in tune with your every word and reaction. And it wasn't like it happened all the time; it was spaced out enough that it didn't seem like a pattern. The marks were definitely not bad enough to warrant much attention, unlike the cuts and bruises and fractured ribs he came home with. It was an unhealthy coping mechanism, you knew. Something you did, something you felt like you’d always done, even while telling Matt that he had his own unhealthy coping mechanisms he needed to watch out for.

This was just something that had followed you for years, decades even. Medication. Therapy. A brief stint in a psychiatric hospital. You'd done it all. And it wasn't like your depression was something you were afraid to talk about. It was just something that never came up, and you didn't know how to work it into a conversation.

How did you bring it up to Foggy, who had literally walked in on his best friend bleeding to death on his apartment floor?

How did you bring it up to Karen, a woman with a past drug addiction that had been partly to blame for the death of her brother; a woman who had been forced to kill a man just so that she could keep herself and her friends safe?

How did you bring it up to Matt, beautiful, adoring Matt, who treated you like you were the most precious thing in his life? How did you bring it up to a man whose father had been shot in an alley not too far from his home, a man who had held his ex-girlfriend in his arms while she died, not once, but twice?

They...they had real things they were dealing with, had already dealt with. And you...you were just someone with a brain whose hormone imbalance was off, which sometimes led to days where you couldn't get out of bed because you were so depressed.

Compared to them, what did you have to be depressed about?

And yet...it was this shadow that was always hanging over you. A monster hiding within it, behind your back, waiting for the right moment to sink its claws into you. You liked to think that you were able to fight it off 90 percent of the time.

But sometimes you failed.

Being with Matt was the easiest thing in the world. It was like breathing, like the puzzle pieces of you were always meant to find the puzzle pieces that made up him. Where he moved, you moved. Where he went, you followed. You were a well-oiled machine together, something that would run to the very end if it was given the right care and attention. 

He made it easy to forget the way the depression sank in occasionally. He was good at unintentionally, unknowingly chasing it away, though he had no idea of the monster he was inadvertently fighting on your behalf. But sometimes even he wasn't enough, just like you weren't always enough to pull him out of his head. It was just the reality of how things were, you supposed. 

He was a busy man, though he never made you feel like anything less of a priority. But sometimes life happened, and his attention was forced elsewhere, or you had deadlines you had to make, and things just got lost in the shuffle. You couldn't be around each other all of the time. And even if you could, these feelings would still find a way to sink in, like they always did.

You could feel an episode coming on. You'd felt it for the past few days. Sometimes the depressive episodes snuck up gradually, as if they were giving you a warning, and other times you ran head first into one. You weren't sure what was worse: being given time to prepare, with the sinking feeling of what was coming, or living life like normal, only to be smacked so hard in the face with it without warning. 

You found yourself instinctively drawing in on yourself. It was relatively easy to do this time. Matt was in the middle of a large case, and you'd made the decision to give him space to focus on the trial. You knew how much you meant to him, even while you could see that he was grateful for the extra quiet time at home to prepare. 

Foggy was in the same situation as Matt, and Karen was off visiting Frank in some undisclosed town in the Midwest. Three of your major support systems were currently wrapped up in other important things that absolutely deserved their undivided attention, and it was just a perfect time for the depression to sneak up, ensnare you in its clutches, and yank you back into its hold, this time without anyone to hold your hand and protect you against something they didn’t even know about.

You could feel it clawing up your throat, the tears and panic, and you knew it was going to be one of those nights. A night where you'd struggle to breathe, struggle to think, struggle to ground yourself in a reality where you knew you mattered and had people who loved you unconditionally.

Sometimes, all the support systems you had thoughtfully and carefully selected and put into place were knocked down by the force of a tornado that ran through your brain. Utterly paralyzed by the panic and sadness that was roaring through you, its force stronger than you'd felt it in a while, you found yourself needing to...scratch. 

So you did, and the pain grounded you, as it always did, pulling off layer and layer of skin with nothing but a fingernail and desperation to carve deeper into flesh. And when you were done, the relief was equally matched by the failure and shame.

"Sweetheart?"

A gasp tore its way out of your throat as you turned sharply around, reaching out to grab the kitchen counter as your balance wobbled. You’d gotten up to wipe the mark down with alcohol wipes, wary of an infection setting in. He was standing in all black, no doubt in the middle of his route through Hell's Kitchen, given the time of night.

"Hey, Matt," you said weakly, moving in front of the alcohol wipes still on the counter, as if placing your body between them and him would actually hide them from his senses. "Are you...did you finish for the night?"

He didn't say anything as he slowly removed his mask. Once it was in his hand and no longer over his face, you winced as his head tilted, his unfocused eyes landing on your hip, just a few inches above the line you had just carved into your thigh, skin bare except for the thin pajama shorts you were wearing. 

"I..uh. I was making my way through the city when I heard you crying," he told you softly, his focus still on the patch of skin that was on display and blood he could no doubt smell. "What is that?"

"Nothing, I just--"

"Don't tell me you just scratched yourself on something," he said, heat slowly seeping into his voice. "That's what you've been telling me, hasn't it?"

"I--"

"I thought maybe I was imagining things." Matt's voice was gradually getting louder and you couldn’t help but wince again, eyes shifting away from the downturn of his mouth. "But I wasn't, was I? You did this to yourself on purpose."

"Matt," you managed to choke out as your fist tightened around the alcohol wipe you’d briefly used to clean the scratch to prevent infection. "Please don't--"

"Please don't what?" he asked incredulously, and you couldn’t help but flinch at the tone, eyes lowering again so that you couldn’t see the look on his face. "Please don't get upset? You hurt yourself. You made yourself bleed, and you want me to...what? Not talk to you about it? Pretend it's not what it is?"

"Please don't yell at me," you whimpered, burrowing your head in your hands, unable to stop the tears from coming in full force, shame lighting up your skin like a failed firework that does nothing but burst into flame. "Please don't be mad at me."

"Mad at you?” he asked with a gasp, the words still somehow sharp. “I'm not mad....I'm horrified." You jerked back so hard your knee almost gave out, hurriedly opening the distance between the two of you blindly, your hip bumping painfully into the counter behind you. "I'm horrified that this has been happening for months and I...I didn't pick up on it."

Matt sounded so broken that you dropped your hands from your face, eyes trailing over his form through your tears. His head was bowed, and his hands were shaking. It only made you cry harder.

"I'm sorry," you choked out, your voice every bit as broken. "I'm so sorry."

"No, sweetheart," he whispered as he tilted his head back in your direction. Something in the way you whimpered caused him to finally take a few steps toward you. "Don't be sorry. I just...I just don't know what to do."

"You don't have to do anything," you told him quietly with a sniffle. "This is my thing to deal with, I'll be ok."

"Bullshit, that's bullshit," he said adamantly in a tone that displayed a tiny amount of frustration. It made your heart speed up for just a moment, the fear of his impending judgment too much for you. "You're not okay. And this isn't just something that you have to deal with, not anymore. It's mine, too. I have to deal with it now, too."

You flinched, the words somehow indicating that he was now burdened with something that should be just your problem and was angry about it. You could see the look of horror that crossed his face as he realized how it had sounded.

"No, that's not what I meant by that. Fuck." His hands were suddenly cupping your face before you could think. You tried to pull away, but he stepped forward when you stepped back, latching on to you, though his hands remained as gentle as they always were when he touched you. "I meant that this isn't something you should have to do alone. This is my thing now, too. Anything that's yours is mine. This is something we will work on together. Ok?"

"You don't even know what it is, Matt," you said weakly. You put your hands over his and tried to pull them off and break contact, but he refused to be moved. 

"I thought…I know enough about depression to recognize it," Matt told you softly, blank eyes landing on your cheek. "I should have...I could feel it. I could feel something was off, but I couldn't put my finger on it. I let things distract me from asking the right questions, and now you've..." he finally moved his hands so that he could gesture vaguely at your thigh. 

"It's not your fault, Matt." You moved to take a step back now that his hands were off, but upon recognizing your intentions, they were back on you, holding your waist this time. 

"I still should have--"

"No," you interrupted him as you shook your head quickly, rejecting his idea that he was somehow to blame. "I should have. This...I should have said something. We've been together for what, a year? Plenty of opportunities for me to say something, and I chose not to. You take responsibility for things out of control all the time, Matt. Don't take this on, too."

He took a shaky breath, one that rattled his entire frame. "Can I ask how long you've been..."

"A while."

"Did it start while we were together?" You shook your head and he closed his eyes briefly as he took a deep breath, the look on his face suggesting that he was somewhat relieved that the habit hadn’t started since he came into your life, the idea that maybe he was what led you to start hurting yourself for the first time. "Before we met?" He flinched when you nodded, somehow realizing that this was a long-term habit. "How long, sweetheart?"

"Pretty much since high school," you admitted quietly as your eyes trailed a face that was far too pale. He shuddered, as if in pain, and you knew the admission hurt him. You felt incredibly guilty, and it reminded you of the day your mother found out what you’d been doing, her tears and anguish still haunting you years into your adult life. 

"Okay," he mumbled, his eyes closing again. He let go of you and took a small step back. "Okay. Is it alright if I hold you? I don't...I don't want to touch you anymore if you need the space right now." 

Your eyes welled with tears again. "Please do." You were in his arms before you even finished speaking. He was warm, and despite the heat inside your apartment, you found you needed the warmth of him pushed up against you. One of his hands slipped around your waist, the other around your shoulders, where it reached up to cradle the back of your skull. His fingers wrapped themselves in your hair, something you knew he loved doing, something you knew he did when he was trying to remind himself you were next to him and safe. 

"Do your parents know?" he asked quietly as he held you to him, the side of your face pressed against his shoulder. Your arms were snug around his waist, your hands gripping the back of his sweat-soaked black shirt. You didn't know how much you'd needed him to hold you until this moment. 

"About what part?" Your voice was equally as soft.

"Any of it."

You sighed and you felt him tighten his arms around you. "They know about pretty much everything besides the...recent scratching. I spoke with my mom earlier today and she knows I've been slipping a bit."

"And what did she say?"

"She told me I could come to visit for a few days if I needed to," you responded. "I told her I couldn't, but she refused to hang up until I promised I'd schedule an appointment with my therapist."

"Did you?"

"Yeah, I have a virtual appointment on Thursday." He nodded and you felt more than heard his sigh of relief. 

"Good. That's good, sweetheart." You felt him place a kiss to the top of your head. By the way his chest expanded to take a deep breath, you knew a big question was about to come out, something that had probably been weighing on his mind since the moment he noticed the mark on your thigh. You had a pretty good idea what it was going to be before even he asked it. "Have you done more than...these scratches in the past?"

You winced, having guessed the question correctly. "I have." 

He tensed. "How much worse?"

You gulped, not wanting to give him the answer. He could feel your reluctance, but pushed on. "Please tell me. I'm not…I'm not going to judge you. I just want to help you, but I can't do that if I don't know."

Taking a deep breath, you forced it out, eyes squeezing shut as you revealed something you haven’t shared in years. "I was once...hospitalized. I was placed on suicide watch." 

You felt Matt shake against you, body trembling as he took in your answer, and grimaced when his arms tightened around to the point of pain. He apologized immediately, loosening his grip just a tad, but the shaking didn't stop. "Matt, I'm okay. I promise. I haven't felt that way in a long time."

"How long ago was that?" he asked you, seeming desperate to wrap his mind around it. "Last year? A few years ago? How recent?"

"It was ten years ago," you whispered as you clutched the back of his shirt in hands that weren’t steady, either. "I got a lot of help. I went through a shit ton of therapy. Put on some medication, some of which I'm still on. I'm okay."

"You have to promise me you won't do something like that." He was still shaking and it was making you tear up again. You buried your face in his shoulder, and he cradled your head there, hand still buried in your hair. "You have to promise me that if things get that bad again, you'll say something. You'll tell me."

You swallowed loudly, before slowly nodding your head

"I promise, Matt." He took a deep, shuddering breath, and when you pulled back slightly to look up at him, it tore at you to see the tears that were making their way down his face, stark against a bruise that bloomed on his jaw. Gently, you tilted your chin up so that you could kiss his cheeks. First one, then the other, pressing all the love you felt for him into the simple connection of lips to skin. He pulled back to place a kiss of his own on your forehead, and took a deep breath.

"I think you should come stay with me for a bit."

You pressed your face back into his shoulder, your strength seeping out of you slowly, feeling safe and secure for the first time in days, the depression sliding back just enough so that the red flare of the devil could warm your skin. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I need you close. I need you to be with me where I can keep an eye on you."

"You don't--"

"Please," Matt whispered, the tone pleading and desperate. "Please...just don't argue with me. Not on this."

"I'm not arguing with you, Matt," you said gently, lifting a hand from his waist to run it through his hair. He caught the hand and brought it to his mouth instead. "It's just...you have a big case next week and--"

Matt jerked away, looking aghast, a sense of realization seeping into his pores, though you knew it was an incorrect one. But he took the idea and ran with it, once again trying to take the blame for something that was not his to bear "Is that--is that why you didn't say anything? Because of this case? Because you didn't want to distract me?"

You winced. "No, Matt. But it did make things...easier for me not to admit that things were bad. I didn't want to say anything in the first place, and I’m not sure if I would have said anything at all."

"Oh my god," he said, seemingly horrified. "You can't...you can't do that. You can't hide things like that."

"You understand the irony, right?" You mouth quirked up in the corner. His eyes widened drastically at the comment, lips parting in a mixture of alarm and frustration.

"That's not funny!" He exploded, tightening his grasp on you. Your mouth snapped shut. "You have to tell me these things. You can't use my job or my work at night or anything to hide this. Do you understand? Tell me you understand."

"I understand, Matt. I’m sorry."

"Promise me."

"I already--"

"Promise me again," he demanded, and your eyes widened at how frantic he sounded, your eyes sweeping over a face that housed haunted, red-lined eyes and drying tracks of tears. "Promise me a thousand times."

"I promise, Matt. I promise." You found yourself crushed back against his chest.

"You're my priority," he whispered adamantly into your ear. His hand was shaking again as it rested on your lower back. "You're the priority. Everything else...it doesn't matter, none of it matters if you're not here. I need you to understand that."

You hesitated, and he caught on to it. 

“Sweetheart,” he said with a quiet moan that sounded far too grief-stricken, his cheek pressing to yours, the scruff of his beard nothing but a familiar, welcomed feeling. It spoke to you of love and adoration, his beard often rasping against your skin while he kissed you, or even while he slid down your body to put his mouth on the most sensitive part of you. “I don't care if it's the biggest case of the century. I don't care if I'm one second away for finally catching the most important drug ring and tearing down their entire organization. If you need me, I'm there. No questions asked."

"But--"

"No." He pulled back to place his hands on your shoulders while his head tilted towards you, unfocused eyes landing around your mouth. "No buts. You call me. You tell me where you are, and I'll come get you. I'll be there as soon as humanly possible, everytime."

"Matt," you whimpered with a shake of your head, mouth tilting down in a frown. "You can't just--those things are important to people, I can't let you--"

"You're not letting me do anything. I choose you. Always."

You shuddered at the declaration, wondering what you had ever done to deserve this man, but unwilling to ever let him go. Eyes welling with a new batch of tears, you held on to him with everything you had, energy leaching out of you as you leaned against him. He took your weight easily without a word, no objection to being your sole source of strength and balance. 

Matt cleared his throat as held you, breath fanning out across your cheek. "Can I...will you let me check it?" he asked quietly, the question almost hesitant as if he expected to be rejected. "I can smell the antiseptic, but I just need to be sure."

You were absolutely helpless to deny him anything."Yeah…yeah, you can."

He took a step back and pulled you over to your kitchen table where he gently pushed you into a seat. Once you were settled with your leg outstretched and balanced on another chair, he grabbed another alcohol wipe and a large bandage from the first aid kit. Bending down so that he was kneeling next to you on the hardwood, Matt leaned forward and placed a kiss directly below the mark on your thigh, your skin turning into a field of goosebumps despite the fact that Matt had had his lips to every inch of your skin at this point in your relationship. There was something so gentle, something so reverent about the kiss that you mourned the loss of his lips the second he pulled away.

 You watched as Matt turned his attention to the long scratch on your thigh, frowning when you hissed at the alcohol wipe he ran gently down it. His finger traced the outline gently as his sightless eyes roamed over the room, and you knew he was testing the temperature of your skin as if he’d be able to trace the possibility of an infection. When he was satisfied, he took the large bandage and placed it over the scratch.

He placed the trash on the table with fingers that had steadied as he focused on making sure you were okay, the mission to help you overpowering the horror and concern he’d been feeling since he made his way into your apartment. Grasping your hands in his, he turned his face towards you, tilting up as he licked his lips in a tick you had long since noticed was often an indication of anxiety. He pulled your hands into his, the heat of his palms warm and soothing he held them. Within a gentle kiss placed on the back of each hand, Matt’s form finally seemed to relax as a small smile broke our across his face. 

Unable to help yourself, you leaned down and pressed your lips to his.

"Thank you," you whispered quietly as you slowly sat back up. He chased your lips for just a small second before he settled back on his haunches and let his eyes rest over your shoulder. "For always taking care of me."

He made a noise in the back of his throat. "You don't have to thank me for this."

"I do," you affirmed gently. "And I'm sorry for...not saying anything."

He was silent for a moment as his thumbs traced over the back of your hands. "I understand what it's like. The depression. I've told you how bad it got, after Midland Circle. But I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. And part of that is thanks to you."

You opened your mouth to object, but he cut you off. "No, it's true. You make me want to be...better. Do better. And I know that I'd be struggling a lot more than I do if I didn't have you in my life. All the good that I do, all the good I try be, is partly thanks to you."

“Matt–”

He continued on gently even as you shook your head in denial, squeezing your hands tightly in his. "You do this for me every single day without even trying to, and I'll never be able to express how grateful I am for you, for how much you love me. So whatever you need, whatever you need from me, it's yours. Ask me for anything, ask me to do anything, and I'll give it to you."

A stray tear warmed your cheek as it fell. “You know I feel the same way, right? That I’d do the same for you.”

Matt’s smile was faint as he answered. “I know, sweetheart. You’ve told me.”

“And you–you believe me?”

“I do.” The sentence is small, a simple three letters and only two syllables, but it causes you to sigh in relief and sag against the chair as he finally stood up, your fingers entwined with his.

“Okay,” you whisper as you glance up at his face, taking in the tender look in his eyes and the smile that was equally gentle. “As long as you know the feeling is equal.”

Matt was quiet as let go of a hand to push back a few pieces of hair. "I know,” he said softly with a sigh, the flush of his skin finally bringing some color back to his face. “I think you should come stay with me for a bit, where I can look after you and make sure you're okay. We will make things work. No matter how busy I may be, this is the priority. Okay?"

"I….yeah, okay,” you answered with a nod of your head, eyes shifting to look out the window that he had left open, suddenly grateful that he’d been able to hear the tears that had left you feeling hollow for a few short moments. 

Only a single moment passed before he took your face in his hands and tilted it up so he could place a kiss on the top of your head. "I'll help you pack your things."

When he pulled you out your front door, dressed in a pair of sweatpants and tshirt he had left at your place weeks ago, one hand in yours and the other holding the small duffle you’d thrown your things into, you somehow knew the move would be permanent. Your lease was nowhere close to being over, but the idea of swapping an empty apartment for one that was filled with silk sheets, record albums labeled in braille, and Matt’s smile was exactly what you needed.

Your bouts of depression would come and go, of this you were sure, but Matt would be unwavering and solid, standing in front of you in the face of whatever nightmare headed your way.

[cloudyyoimiya]

hello cloud i am once again here in need of your beautiful work (/o_o)/. may i please rq fyodor (+ any others you’d like) with a reader who’s just killed somebody? but with it being the readers first time, they’re visibly panicking over blood on their hands. how would the bsd character act? it’d be cool if the somebody was a person they needed to get rid of too hehe just think about how’d they’d manipulate reader that it was necessary.;

omg krei hello again!! i’m so happy you’re in my inbox! i rlly love this request sm. when i first saw it the other day i couldn’t stop thinking about it. it scratched just the right itch in my brain for some reason. thank you for requesting!

Their S/o Kills Someone For the First Time; Fyodor Dostoyevsky and Saigiku Jouno

Format: Scenarios

Possible warnings: Angst, mentions of death, blood, manipulation, unhealthy relationships, mentions of vomiting

Fyodor Dostoyevsky

You stared at your hands, covered in blood. Your whole body started to shake as you fell to your knees. You just killed someone in cold blood—in front of your boyfriend nonetheless. You felt nauseous as you continued to stare at your bloodied hands. You hated it. You couldn’t breathe. You wanted this to end.

The mission you were sent on didn’t entail you killing anyone today! You were just supposed to grab some information sneakily and escape; it was supposed to be simple. But you somehow managed to get caught by one guard, and you were forced to fight them to the death.

You wanted to leave them incapacitated and not shed any unnecessary blood, but that was too much to ask for in the current situation. You shot them through the stomach, slowly watching their life drain from their body as they fell to the ground. Eventually they went limp and that’s when reality crashed onto you.

Your breath started to quicken as you felt Fyodor put his hand on your shoulder. The contact gave you very little comfort, but you appreciated the act of “kindness” nonetheless.

“Are you alright?” He asked, sounding unaffected by the current situation.

You shook your head frantically. You tried to verbally respond to your boyfriend, but the words just wouldn’t come out. They seemed to be caught on your tongue, not wanting to escape.

Fyodor sighed. “You did what was needed to be done. You had to kill them.”

You shook your head. “No! I could’ve just knocked them out! I—”

“(Name),” he said in a firm tone. You physically tensed up. “You killing that person was necessary. You had to do it for your own survival.”

You gulped as tears started to fall down your cheeks. You felt disgusting.

“You’re wrong!”

Fyodor’s grip on your shoulder tightened as he looked down at you. He seemed disappointed, but yet at the same time he had a smirk on his face. It made your stomach turn. You knew he had something on his mind; manipulating you was the most plausible answer.

“I’m never wrong. You should know that already,” he said, keeping his voice low. He then bent down and whispered in your ear. “We need to leave now, unless you wish to kill more guards. Do you want that? Do you want even more blood on your hands?”

“No, I don’t want that!” You said frantically.

Fyodor hummed. “Then get up and let’s leave,” he said coldly.

You shakily stood up. You body felt like it would collapse at any minute from the amount of trauma you have just experienced. It was sickening.

Fyodor roughly grabbed your arm and started to lead you outside. “Let’s go.”

You silently followed him, not wanting to speak and somehow manage to anger your boyfriend. You knew that more often than not he had your best interests in mind, but it very rarely came across that way. In moments like this he was cold; it made you shiver.

Eventually the two of you made it back to your shared apartment. You locked yourself in your bathroom, holding your head over the toilet. You didn’t wash your hands yet, so as you gripped the toilet bowl, the guards blood stained it. The white was eventually going to turn into a soft pink because of this.

Fyodor just stood in the doorway watching you. Not a single word left his mouth as you felt like you were going to vomit up your breakfast.

After a while, Fyodor spoke up. You could tell that he was forcing himself to sound kind. “Are you alright?”

You shook your head. “No.”

“I see… Well, this reaction to killing someone is completely normal. You did just take a life after all. They probably had a family and what have you,” he paused for a moment. “Everything will be fine, my dear. Trust me.”

Saigiku Jouno

Today you were out on patrol with Jouno. You were the newest member of the Hunting Dogs, so you often had to join older members on their duties. Sometimes it annoyed you because you knew that you could defend yourself, but who were you to question your superiors?

A while ago Jouno heard a robbery occurring, and he sent you to deal with it. You caught up with the robber rather easily, but they didn’t want to surrender. They then pulled a gun on you, shot at you, and then you were forced to strike them down with your saber.

Currently you were in an alleyway, your palms up against a nearby brick wall. You looked down at your boots, the enemy’s blood slightly coating them. Your breathing slowly started to become shallow. You could your rapid heartbeat in your ears. It hurt. It pained you. You despised it with your whole being.

You had stabbed the robber through the chest since it was apparent that they wouldn’t allow themselves to get arrested. You were scared because you were supposed to work on the right side of the law—prevent murders from happening, but you did the opposite. You had just killed that person in cold blood.

You could hear faint footsteps coming from behind you. You knew it was Jouno, but yet you didn’t turn back to look at him. You knew he was going to scold you.

“Did you do this?” He eventually asked. “You do know how I hate the scent of blood and corpses, right?”

“Sorry,” you said shakily. “I didn’t mean too… They just tried to kill me and… I had to!”

You glanced back at Jouno as he put his right hand on his chin. He wore an unreadable expression, and it scared you. You’ve been warned that he has sadistic tendencies, but you never thought that you’d find yourself in a situation where you’d be on the receiving end of his actions.

“You couldn’t just disarm them?” He asked sarcastically.

“I couldn’t find an opening!”

You cupped your hand over your mouth. You felt like you were going to throw up. Tears slowly dripped down your cheeks as you thought of what had just transpired between you and the robber. Your thoughts started to drift off to thinking about your already terrible sleep schedule. You knew that you’d have nightmares about this for a few weeks.

Jouno hummed. “Was this your first time taking a life?”

“…Yes.”

“It shows. Now pick yourself up and let’s get going,” he said coldly. “Do you want to stay and see the corpse slowly rot?”

Your breath hitched for a moment. The thought of watching the criminal slowly decay made you feel sick.

“No sir,” you answered.

He nodded. “Then let’s get going.”

Jouno turned to leave without a second thought. You knew that he cared very little about the people below him, but it was still a punch in the gut nonetheless. You wanted him to comfort you, but you knew he wouldn’t do that. That’s too kind of him.

You walked behind him quietly. You then started to speak, your voice still shaking. “What are we gonna do with the corpse? Will it be picked up?”

Jouno turned his head back at you for a moment before answering. “Be quiet, will you? Calm yourself down. You’re still panicking.”

In a strange way those words provided a small sense of comfort.

“Yes sir.”

He groaned. “How many times have I just told you to call me Jouno? Or is that too much to ask of your pea brain?”

[goldenempyrean]

Bedside Manner

〚 Notes - I was in the mood for these two so here we are, this'll likely be multiple parts :D 〛

〚 Pairing - Maya Bishop x Carina DeLuca 〛

〚 Summary - Maya and Carina get ready for a cosy night in, only the latter doesn't seem to be quite herself. 〛

〚 Wordcount - 1900 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

《 Part 2 》

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“I’m home.” Maya called out cheerily as she closed the down behind her. She took off her coat and kicked off her boots before padding into the kitchen. 

Instantly she could smell Carina’s cooking. The scent of gentle spices and fresh vegetables was delightful and she stopped in the doorframe to watch as she wife swayed her hips in place as she cut up a tomato. 

Maya couldn’t help but come up behind her wife, her arms wrapping around her core, “Something smells amazing.” 

“Thanks bambina.” Carina smiled back, her head leaning back so she could kiss Maya’s cheek, “I got home a little early so I thought I’d cook for us.” 

Maya nuzzled into Carina's neck, enjoying the warmth of her wife's skin and the comforting rhythm of her breath. "You spoil me," She murmured, kissing Carina's cheek before letting her go. "What are we having?" 

"Just something simple," Carina replied with a soft smile, her accent thickening just slightly as she spoke, a sign that Maya had learned to associate with her being tired or particularly relaxed. "Pasta with a light tomato and basil sauce, and some fresh bread." 

The blonde couldn’t help but smile. There was nothing more she loved than coming home from a long day at work to her wife’s amazing cooking. Any troubles from the day seemed to wash anyway when the whole shared a way, a way to forget about the day’s events and just relax knowing she was safe. 

“Thats sounds delicious, I’ll get the table set for us.” Maya offered sweetly, kissing Carina’s cheek one last time before she went about grabbing plates and silverware to make up the table. 

As they sat down for dinner, Carina flashed Maya a warm smile, but there was a slight twinge of something in her expression that Maya couldn’t quite place. The food was perfect, as always—the pasta cooked just right, the sauce bursting with flavour. 

Maya chatted about her day, making sure to fill her wife in on every detail of how her team were dealing with the several newbies that had just joined 19. Carina nodded along throughout, laughing softly at the right moments. But the firefighter couldn’t help but notice how Carina's laughter sounded just a bit more subdued than usual, and how her responses seemed a little short, as if she was distracted. But Carina didn’t seem to be acting any different otherwise so she simply put it down to being tired. 

After they’d finished dinner, Maya insisted on doing the dishes. "You cooked, so it's only fair," She said, trying to shoo Carina away from the sink by flapping a tea towel in her general direction. 

Carina laughed as she wiped her hands on a towel, a small smile tugging at her lips as she relented, "Alright, bambina, you win." She walked over to the living room, glancing back once at Maya, who was humming softly to herself as she scrubbed the dishes. 

Settling down in the living room, Carina switched on the TV and began surfing through the movie channels. She wasn’t really in mood for anything heavy and she knew Maya was probably too tired from her day to focus on much so she settled on an animation, something light to fill the silence. 

With the movie read to go, she set the remote on the coffee table and lit the candle beside it. Next she took a few steps away and scanned over the wooden shelves as she looked for a book to entertain herself with. There was so many that she hadn’t read yet. When she’d moved back in, Maya had insisted on buying an unhealthy amount of new ones for her, just so she’d have a form of escape if she ever desired it. And well, Carina was a bookworm at heart so she didn’t complain, in the end she picked out something by one of her favourite authors, tucked it under her arm and nestled into the corner of the sofa. 

Before she began, she made sure to slip on the pair of reading glasses she kept in the drawer of the coffee table - reading in the dim light tended to strain her eyes. Before she knew it, Maya had finished up in the kitchen, sitting down at the other end of the sofa, tucking her feet up to her knees. 

“You picked something for us?” She bit back a giddy smile at seeing Carina in her glasses, “You really do suit those y’know. We should get a pair for-“ 

“Maya Bishop!” Carina laughed, interrupting her as slapped her playfully with the side of her book, she then lowered them down at an angle and smirked, “Only if you’re good.” 

The movie on the TV began playing and the intro music to Happy Feet began playing. Maya loved this movie and had watched it more times than she’d care to admit so she easily settled down and began fixated on the screen. 

Everything was quiet for about half an hour. That was until the brunette at the other side of the sofa sniffled quietly. 

Maya thought nothing of it, her eyes still attached to the ongoing movie. It was only when she heard the same sound again, a little deeper this time that she curiously looked over just in time to see Carina’s grip on her book loosen as she fans her sweater-covered hand in front of her face in an attempt to stave off the itch.  

It didn’t seem to work however as moments later she quickly pressed it to her face as she muffled a damp sneeze into it, the action making her reading glasses slip down the bridge of her nose a little. 

Maya chuckled, “Bless you.” 

Carina looked up and blushed at the realisation she’d been witnessed, “Grazie bambina.” 

Maya grinned at Carina's soft blush. There was something endearing about seeing her like this, a little vulnerable and caught off guard. She shifted slightly on the couch, turning her body towards Carina, who was already reaching up to push her glasses back into place. 

“Feeling okay? You seemed a little quiet at dinner.” Maya asked, a hint of concern threading through her voice. She kept her tone light, not wanting to overstep, but the softness in Carina’s sniffles tugged at her heart. 

Carina nodded, though her expression seemed more sheepish than convincing. “I’m fine, really. Just a little tickle.” She waved her hand dismissively, but the pink hue on the tip of her nose suggested otherwise. 

Maya hummed, debating whether to push her hunch a little. Ultimately she decided to let it be, not wanting to overstep. They’d finally been getting back to normal with the events of last year’s separation behind them.  

Still, she didn’t miss the opportunity to scoot across the sofa and let her head fall onto the shoulder of her wife as she leaned against her. Carina shifted slightly to accommodate Maya’s weight against her, a small smile playing on her lips as she settled back into the cushions. Her fingers traced the edge of the book absentmindedly as her eyes returned to the words on the page. 

At some point or another, Maya had managed to fall asleep, small little mumbles rose from her as she curled herself up to Carina. The brunette had noticed of course, and she let out a quiet, amused chuckle before planting a soft kiss to the top of her head. 

The movie played in quietly and before long, the closing credits were scrolling down the screen before ultimately fading to black. Without the jolly backing music, the living room was almost silent. A peaceful silence, broken up by Maya’s sleepy murmurings. It was in this quiet that Carina finally registered the dull throbbing forming at the front of her temples. It was subtle, but it was there. 

Carina sighed softly, her hand instinctively rising to rub at her temples. The headache was faint but insistent, still she put it down to dehydration and made a note to finish a bottle of water before she headed to bed. She did usually try to drink numerous throughout the day but she’d been on her feet all day. 

Not only did she have 2 births but several of the mothers coming for scans ended up presenting with flu symptoms and one had to be admitted for fluids. It was the time of year for this thing though and while it was uncommon to start this early into the autumn, Carina new the hospital would soon be brimming with germs and bugs that would make her job just that little bit harder. 

Of course she didn’t mind, not that much anyway. She did sign up for this after-all, but it did make her appreciate the quieter moments more. These moments where she got to sit at home with her wife by her side and just relax. How she longed to savour this silent moment,  Maya sleeping peacefully, nothing could possibly ruin this mo-“ 

Before Carina could finish her thought, something else grabbed her attention. She pressed her hand to her nose as a sudden itch crept down the bridge of her nose, trying somehow to stave it off. But it was no use. 

“Hh’ngxt!” She couldn’t fight it, muffling the sound into the sleeve of her sweater. The sudden movement caused her book to slip from her lap and land on the floor with a soft thud. Maya stirred slightly, her brow furrowing as she shifted closer to Carina. 

“Bless you.” Maya mumbled groggily, blinking awake slowly as she sat up a little. She rubbed her eyes for a second before looking up at Carina with a hint of worry behind her gaze, “You okay?” She asked though her voice was thick with sleep. 

“Perfectly fine bambina, just the candle is a bit strong that’s all.” Carina answered innocently, offering a reassuring kiss to her cheek once she’d sat up properly, “You have a nice nap?” 

Maya tried to stretch but gave up halfway through when yawned widely instead, “I don’t even remember being sleepy. It just happened.” She smiled softly when she felt a hand begin to run through her hair, gently massaging her scalp in just the right ways. 

“You’ve had a busy day, how about we get some sleep?” It didn’t take a lot of encouragement to get her to agree. It didn’t even take 5 minutes for the two to blow out the candle, switch off the TV and make their way to the bedroom. 

After quickly changing into some pyjamas Maya flopped onto the bed first, her body sinking into the mattress with a satisfied groan. Carina followed shortly after, crawling into the soft sheets and she felt Maya cuddle up to her in an instant, “I think you needed that nap more than you realised.” She whispered, her hand sneaking beneath the blonde’s shirt to trace down her back. 

Maya shrugged as she yawned once more, “Maybe, but you need to rest too, you’re not gonna do anyone any good if you overwork yourself.” She mumbled sleepily, no longer fighting off the urge to doze off. 

She was out like a light. And before long Carina found herself being also pulled at by the lure of sleep, coaxing her into its grasp and her breathing evened out into a peaceful sleep, one which she shared with her wife as they held each other close… just hopefully that headache would be gone by the time she woke up. 

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[pamgkrthwrites]

Hi! I'm curious about LMK yanderes x reader in a scenario where they have kids, but like after some time passed kids are teenagers and start to date, especially daughters, what would be daddy's reactions? Would reader be able to stop them from making the potential boyfriend dissapear? :3

Wukong, Macaque, Nezha, Red Son, Mk

This took me two days and one church service to finish. My head hurts from the amount of Pepsi I've had.

Support me here

Warning, the following content has disturbing/triggering themes such as; Yandere Themes, Unhealthy/Abusive Relationships, Mentions of past Forced Pregnancy, Stalking, Bodily Harm(Breaking legs), Kidnapping, Burning/Arson, Murder, Mentions the Dugger Family(from 19 Kids and Counting/Counting On), and others. I do not support or encourage these themes or actions, they are merely written fictional events for entertainment. The character(s) depicted within this post are over the age of 20.

Wukong

As I've alluded to this in past posts, Wukong only has children with you so he can have control over you.

But once one of your children starts having a romantic interest?

There's something that snaps inside of him.

He suddenly becomes extremely overprotective of your children, growls are their partners and will tell the love interest he doesn't approve of them dating his baby princess/prince.

If you are able to stop him following after your child while they are on their date, he will be grumbling while you rub his head.

Macaque

Similar to Wukong, something will snap deep inside of him.

"Your- Your boy/girlfriend?"

Will stalk your child on their date, will stalk the romantic interest back to their him, will learn everything about them.

If he finds out that the partner does anything, even something small like not washing their hands after going to the bathroom, he will tell your child they aren't allowed to date them.

It is extremely hard to get his permission to date any of his children.

MK

It will fly over his head when he first learns of it and does the slowest double-take.

Will be like days later when he's shopping as his smile just drops from his face as he goes "Wait hold on-"

Rushes home(after paying of course), barging into the house with tears in his eyes "MY BABY IS DATING?!"

Is actually rather supportive, just makes sure his baby isn't going to get hurt.

OH AND IF THEY EVER BREAK UP THEN THE EX WILL HAVE BROKEN LEGS.

Red Son

Tries his fucking best to keep himself sane.

One the outside, he seems rather cold about the situation. In reality, he has a burning rage regarding.

Better pray for whoever is dating your child cause the moment he even heard his child being upset about something the other did, it's death.

They will go missing, they will be burnt alive, and their teeth will be removed from their body.

"Sorrows sorrows prayers."

Nezha

I don't think Nezha will ever be ready for any of their children to have a romantic life. Emotionally, anyway.

I think Nezha would have a rule where their children aren't allowed to date until their coming-of-age ceremonies(Apparently it's called The Guan Li for men and Ji Li for women and from what I can tell the ages are between 15-20).

Are you aware of the Dugger family? If you are, you might be aware that the father has a quiz the would-be sons-in-law have to do before they can date his daughters. I feel as if Nezha would do this too. However, if there is even one answer he doesn't like then it's a no.

Nezha will insist on sitting through all the dates to make sure their little lotus is safe and happy.

Unlike the others on this list though, if the child expresses to Nezha that they really do like the person and want to date them, Nezha is going to let go and let them date. They watch from afar and make sure their child is safe, but they will let their Lotus bloom.

[madameaug]

Please don’t tell me jungkook or oc cheats because they just had a baby 🥲

Jungkook would never! If anything Jennette giving birth to little Peanut only enhanced is love for her.

Jungkook During the 40 Weeks of Pregnancy

Finding Out

Jennette didn't experience the typical signs of pregnancy. No morning sickness, no excessive weight gain, no mood swings. Nothing like that at all. She was perfectly fine. She was taking down the silver and gold Christmas-themed tree in February. Still in her festive onesie, Jungkook noticed something quite odd. An open jar of smooth peanut butter.

"You bought peanut butter?"

Taking a big lick from the spoon, Jennette nodded her head.

"Babe you can't stand peanut butter. You literally gag at the smell. Now your eating it straight of the jar."

"I don't know why, but I've been craving it. The smell isn't bothering me right now."

"Are you sick?" Jungkook placed the back of his head on Jennette's forehead.

"I'm fine."

Jungkook found that moment weird, but didn't harp on it. Maybe she was giving peanut butter another chance. Surely that was just the explanation. But it didn't stop there. More peanut butter treats arrived in the house in the next few weeks. Nutter Butters, Reeses Cups, and an unhealthy amount of peanut butter jelly sandwiches.

Jungkook watched in awe as Jennette ate her fifth Reeses in one sitting. The empty wrappers were piling beside her, as she watched an old episode of Martin.

"Jungkook I can literally feel your eyes glaring holes into my face."

"Jeanie are you sure nothing is wrong? Like you aren't hiding anything from me."

"I'm not sick, Jungkook. I'm not coughing, no sore throat, and no fever. I'm literally fine- stop asking."

Six hours later while Jennette was lying in bed, Jungkook lay on his back, deep in thought. The amount of peanut butter products Jennette had been consuming in the past three weeks was absurd. How could she go from gagging at the smell of the ingredient to finishing family-size jars by herself in three days. Jungkook needed to get to the bottom of this. Slipping out of bed, Jungkook went to the 24/7 pharmacy. He went up and down the aisles, hoping to find some fancy brand to explain the eating habits shift.

Tylenol?

Advil?

Metamucil?

No no no.

Soon enough, he found himself of the family planning aisle. In front of him were three rows of Clear Blue pregnancy tests. His heart skipped a beat as he contemplated picking up the pregnancy test.

Better safe than sorry.

The drive back to the house seemed longer, despite him going ten over the speed limit.

"Jeanie... Jeanie baby, wake up." He gently rocked Jennette awake.

"Go away." She yawned turning on her side. She nuzzled into her pillow.

"I need you to take this test for me."

"What test?" Jennette's cracked.

"Just take it."

Irritated, Jennette squinted as she sat up. She slipped her feet into her slippers. She headed into their shared bathroom beside their bedroom. There, she saw a pregnancy test on the counter. Her lips ready to fire off.

"Please just take it. I can't help but think this could be why you have been acting so different lately."

Closing the door, Jennette just went with the motions. Taking the test and peeing on the stick. She wasn't even anxious about the results in the slightest. She wanted to just get back in her bed, before her spot of warmth disappeared.

"Are you done!?"

Jennette washed her hands and opened the door. Jungkook had the edge of his thumb in between in teeth. A soothing habit he only did when he was highly anxious.

Jennette adjusted her bonnet slightly, slipping of her head. She went into her nightstand and put on her signature purple glasses. She couldn't read the test because of her astigmatism in both eyes. The lines would be moving too much for her to read the test accurately.

"See, look, one line." The thin second line arrived as she turned the test to gloat in front of Jungkook.

"Oh fuck."

"Wha-. shitttt." Jennette did a double take, seeing the positive pregnancy test.

Weeks 7-10

The next day Jeannette and Jungkook scheduled an appointment at the doctors office. She got her pre-natal vitamins and an official test done. They found out that they were seven weeks pregnant. The couple wasn't actively trying for a kid, but they were't devastated by the news. They were 29 respectively and could now use the next seven-ish months to prepare themselves for parenthood.

During this time they got their first sonogram. Jungkook was moved to tears and asked for several copies of the picture. One of them going in his car, one on the back of his phone, and the other in his night stand. The picture was so precious to him

It was only one time Jennette experienced morning sickness. She blames the vertigo spell for pushing her over the edge. She was doing perfectly fine, but when she was riding in an elevator one morning. She got nauseous all of a sudden. She told Jungkook, and he ordered her to take it easy for the rest of the day.

Weeks 11-14

This is when the nickname Peanut came about. Now, reaching the end of the first trimester, Jennette and Jungkook was looking at their developing child on the screen. Jungkook could point out their eyes, and tiny toes.

"Looks like this angel is gonna be on the chunky side." The OBGYN commented.

"Their so cute, though. Look at ‘em."

Moving around the wand on Jennette's small belly, they looked at all angles.

"What are they doing doing, doctor?" Jungkook wondered.

"Oh just sucking their thumb."

Jungkook gushed harder at the screen. "Look at our little Peanut."

Weeks 15-18

Time for the long-awaited gender reveal. Jennette and Jungkook opted to keep this moment more intimate. They didn't want a crazy gender reveal party. They were going to keep the gender of their little Peanut a surprise until she was born. But they still had to create a memorable experience.

Surprisingly both Jennette and Jungkook believed that they were having a baby girl. The April weather allowed for Jennette to wear a baby pink shirt and skirt set. Her bump was protruding more, especially from a side-profile perspective. Jungkook was wearing a pink button-up jacket. White t-shirt with pink pants to match. He found this really cute plushy online called 'Cooky'. It was a pink bunny, a perfect gift for the little girl he hoped to have.

"Are you ready to find out the gender of your baby?"

"Yes!" The answered at the same time.

Applying the cold gel on Jennette's belly, the doctor handed the wand to Jungkook. Allowing him to do the honors. He grasped the wand, eyes wide-looking for any declaration of the child's biological sex.

"Wait slow down, bug. Go a little more to the left." Jennette guided. The angle they were looking at they could only see her legs and stomach.

In a gasp of excitement, Jennette saw the outline of a labia majora. Stronger than she anticipated, she gripped Jungkook's shoulder and shook him.

"We're having a baby girl! OMG! OMG!"

“Peanuts a girl! She’s a girl! I’m a girl dad !!!”

Jungkook jumped up and down. The wand was long forgotten as it hit the ground. The OBGYN enjoyed watching the couple celebrate their baby girl.

Week 19- 22

Jungkook was very protective over Jennette's now obvious baby bump. Whenever they were out in public together, he walked slightly in front of her. Avoiding from touchy strangers, placing their filthy hands on her stomach. Only he could touch Jennette's stomach. His little peanut was inside, and he was obligated to protect her, and her mother of course.

On a lazy Sunday morning, Jungkook was playing with Peanut. Jennette was able to feel her kicking, and her moving around in her stomach. Her baby was quite receptive to her father's voice. Jungkook would stand on one side of Jenentte and speak. Watching the little imprints of hands and feet press against her stomach. Indiciating that Peanut was following her father's voice.

"Oh Toodles." Jennette jokingly tapped her stomach. Jungkook was coming closer to her, to do his daily quality time with his baby. She felt a flutter in response.

"Peanut. Come to me sweet girl."

"Ooo!" Jennette reacted to the sudden dart across her stomach.

"That may have been the fastest she's moved." Jennette paused in between her words. Her little Peanut was developing some speed, which always tired her. Even though she hadn't moved a muscle.

"Okay come to this side." And peanut did. Jungkook capturing the moment on his phone.

"I'm for sure showing her this when she's older." He snickered. "Okay I'm over here now."

Week 23-26

Jennette and Jungkook were sitting a frozen yogurt creamery looking at another sonogram picture of their little Peanut. They had gotten a really nice close-up of Peanut's face. Her lips and eyes were well-seen in the image.

"Peanut will be the first person in my family who is bald."

"Everyone in my family is born bald. Including me.” Jungkook commented. He dug deep into his camera roll finding an image of him when he was just a few days old.

"Oh-" Failing to hold in her laughter, Jennette's stomach shook with a violent laugh. Poor Peanut probably thought she was on a roller coaster.

"Most black babies I've seen were born with a head full of hair. It would explain why I don't have heartburn." Doing the same Jennette pulled up a picture of herself when she was a baby. She was born with a mini afro, just like her mother and her sister.

"But look I can already tell she has your eyes. I just know they are gonna be so pretty."

Jungkook agreed. "I make some pretty babies."

"I make pretty babies." Jennette emphasized.

"Can't argue with that baby." Jungkook took a scoop of Jennette's yogurt. "I hope she looks like you."

"I hope so too."

"Just because you said that, Peanut will look just like her daddy." Jungkook kissed her belly. His tattooed hand rubbed over the now darker vertical line running down her bump.

Leaving the yogurt shop, Jungkook and Jennette walked around the area, getting some exercise. Like an excited dad, Jungkook told random strangers he passed about his "twin".

"My twin is in there."

"She only has four more months left."

Week 27-30

Jennette is super clumsy. Don't hand her anything fragile that can break. She has butter fingers unlike ever before. Jungkook had to move the precious pottery to the top of the cabinets. No way would she step on a ladder to get it, so it would require Jungkook to assist you.

"Bug you up?"

Jungkook had a tough training session in the gym and was trying to take a cat nap on the couch. It was 2 am and he believed that Jennette had already been sleep.

"Huh? What's wrong? Peanut good?"

"Yes, she's good. A craving is just hitting me."

"Peanut butter is in the pantry. You can reach it." Jungkook pouted his lips, looking so adorable in Jennette's eyes. She felt bad for waking him up.

"But I kinda want something different. I'm sorry baby."

"Don't apologize. I got you." With one eye barely open, Jungkook got the sweet treat Jennette had been craving. Being the good boyfriend that I knew he would be.

Week 33-36

Peanut's baby shower was a busy affair. Jennette's side of the family flew out to Korea. Her parents, grandma, and her little sister Asia were all able to come. Jungkook's parents handled all the food matters for the party. Jennette was hanging up some decor on the walls.

Jennette felt as big as a house. She looked exhausted and greasy. New growth from her braids were taking over her scalp. The August heat was not making her feel any better. She was already constantly warm with a growing child in her belly. The external temperature of high 80s didn't help either.

It was smart for her to get dressed later in the day, as she would have sweated out her yellow sundress. Instead, she was in her comfy maternity shorts that were extra-large. Cream-colored stretchmarks ran rampant across the surface of her stomach. She hasn't been able to see her feet in the past month or so. She could only imagine what her feet looked like.

Jungkook came down the stairs. Blothes of paint on an old graphic T-shirt. "Baby, there you are. I have something to show you." Jungkook was cheery this morning despite the few hours of sleep he got. He waited at the airport to pick of Jennette's family before coming home around 2 am.

"Come look." Jungkook gently dragged Jennette up the stairs. He had been cooped upstairs with his friends for the last four hours.

"Voila!"

Peanut's crib was set up along the purple-colored walls. There were small animals along the wall. The purple went along nicely with the accent color of white. White flowers were thinly painted, creating a beautiful garden of flowers. Which all came ahead above where Peanut's crib was.

"Bug I love it!" Not wanting to cry, Jennette felt so moved by everything she saw. The nurse was so homey for their Peanut. The carpet was soft, a mobile spun slowly.

"Thank you! Thank you!" Jennette thanked Jungkook's friends, her Peanut's uncles. She would forever treasure the beautiful work that they did.

"Come on you need to get dressed. Guest will be coming in less than an hour."

Week 37-40

Jungkook is the type of boyfriend with labor emergency kits in every vehicle. So that no matter what car they were in, if they needed to drive straight to the hospital then they could. With Peanut arriving in less than a few weeks, Jungkook has become a lot more stressed.

He overreacts to any groan coming from Jennette.

"Was that a contraction?"

"Did your water break?"

"Do you feel her head coming out? Lay down, let me look."

Jungkook was getting on Jennette's last nerves. His pre-parental panic was cramping her style. She looked like a goddess. Afro out, wearing slightly form-fitting clothing. She was like Rihanna, making her bump an accessory with her outfit. Not hiding it under maternity clothing. She does several solo maternity shoots before inviting Jungkook to do a couple with her.

The afternoon of August 31st is when Jennette's water breaks. She was baking peanut butter cookies when a liquid trickled down her leg. Jungkook who was in the shower, wasted no time ushering his pregnant girlfriend to the hospital.

It was seven o'clock and Jennette was only four centimeters dialed. She bounced on a huge yoga ball. She did breathing exercises, and Jungkook was attentive the entire time.

Rubbing her back when requested. Holding her hand, kissing her forehead.

"You are doing amazing baby. I love you so much."

Jennette could FaceTime her mother for a couple of hours as she slowly dialted to eight. Her contractions were becoming closer together, and Peanut was slowly lowering herself into the birth canal.

"I don't think I could do this again." She huffed. She wasn't in pain but was in extreme discomfort. She couldn't get comfortable laying on her back. It just felt wrong.

"Whatever you say baby. Peanut is enough for me."

"Bug can you hold me up. I don't think I can lay down any longer."

Jungkook did just that. As Jennette moaned through her contractions, Jungkook rubbed her back. Trying to keep the hospital gown as closed as possible, he didn't want her ass out for any passing staff member to see.

"Thank you so much Jeanie." Jungkook was on the brink of tears. With the help of three other nurses, Jennette was lying on her back again. The doctor had declared Jennette at 10cm. She could start pushing, and her contractions were much closer together.

"AHHHHHH!"

"GET HER OUTTTT! NOWWWWW" Jennette tossed and turned her head. Her screams of discomfort broke Jungkook's heart. He didn't know what else to say but 'Thank you' and 'I love you'.

Jungkook held Jennette's hand for the entire twenty minutes she was pushing. Jennette's head hit her pillow with a soft thud. All energy left her body, as she watched the doctor hold Peanut in the air. Her lip was quivering with no sound.

"Why isn't she crying?" Jennette choked out, trying not to cry. The nurses didn't respond, wiping Peanut's face of all the mucus. Jungkook's eyes never left Peanut. Her little pink self. He couldn't help but smile and notice that Peanut was bald. Very little hair was on her head, but Jungkook didn't care. She was the prettiest baby he had ever seen. Bald or not.

The doctor smacked Peanut's bottom, eliciting a scream.

"Oh my baby." Jennette smiled, arms open, ready to hold her. Peanut was placed on Jennette's chest. Jennette nuzzled her cheek against hers. Loving the warmth Peanut radiated. Jennetted motioned for Jungkook to get in the bed with her.

"Come on, come hold her. Take your shirt off for skin to skin."

Jungkook was a crying mess holding Peanut. This was the same person scattering across Jennette's stomach as the sound of his voice. He was now face to face with his Peanut. Yeah Jungkook was crying real bad.

Her eyes were like Jungkook's. It was too early to determine her skin complexion as she was just different shades of pink and slight grey. Her nose and lips were like Jennette's. After being washed up and dressed she took a nap on her mother’s chest. Preparing for her baldness, Jungkook put on a gentle (non-squeezing) bow on her head.

Looking at the time, Jungkook smiled even harder.

"Guess it was fate for Peanut to be my twin."

"What makes you say that?"

Shaking his phone, Jennette saw the time.

12:28 am September 1st.

"You got your twin bug. You definitely got your twin."

Series Masterlist: