#but i'm so frustrated with my own body like

[thedensworld]

Talk the Stalker | C.Sc

Pairing: celebritySeungcheol! x celebrityReader!

Genre: fluff

Summary: Seungcheol is obsessed with you, he loves you and he would do anything to protect you.

Note: i'm obsessed, addicted, and drowned in his pretty smile! Happiness suit him sfm!

Seungcheol's hand was warm as it held yours tightly while the two of you entered the restaurant. He had already noticed two or three cameras tailing him outside, snapping pictures of the two of you together. He paid them no mind—your relationship was public anyway, and he was too used to the attention to care. Right now, all that mattered to him was making sure you were okay.

This restaurant was your favorite, a haven you always turned to when your appetite disappeared—which had happened again today. He had picked you up from the shooting set after a long day. You had texted him earlier, letting him know you’d be working from afternoon until late evening. Coincidentally, his own schedule had wrapped up at the same time, so he decided to spend the night with you.

"Can we grab something first? I think I’m gonna pass out," you muttered the moment you slid into his car.

Seungcheol sighed deeply, already anticipating this. You hadn’t eaten, had you? His mind pieced together the puzzle: you probably woke up barely two hours before your schedule, rushed to get ready, spent an hour commuting, and then worked the entire day without a single meal. The thought of it frustrated him—he had been through similar habits in the past, too busy to eat. But seeing you, the love of his life, neglecting yourself like this made his chest ache. Without a word, he drove the two of you straight to your go-to spot.

While you disappeared to the restroom, Seungcheol took the liberty of ordering your usual meal. When you returned, he waved you over, pulling the chair beside him. As you sat down, his hand instinctively reached for your back, rubbing soothing circles to ease the tension he imagined must be building there.

"How’s your back? Still hurt?" he asked gently, his voice tinged with concern.

You had injured yourself three months ago during a stunt for an action film—a brutal fall onto your back that had left you with a dislocated shoulder and lingering pain. While everything had seemed fine recently, yesterday’s severe backache brought the worries flooding back for both of you.

"Stop making me worry, could you?" Seungcheol sighed when you gave him a soft chuckle, clearly trying to downplay the issue. "Sometimes I wonder how your fragile body even handles all those stunts," he added, shaking his head.

“Fragile?” you scoffed, lightly smacking his arm. “I work out, thank you very much.”

He lifted your arm with a smirk, inspecting it playfully. “This slender little arm trying to punch a stuntman? I’m not worried about them; I’m worried about you.”

“Shut up,” you muttered with a grin, making Seungcheol laugh.

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face and tucking it behind your ear. His tone softened as he said, “That’s why you need to stop getting hurt, okay? I know how much you love your job, but if you want to do it for a long time, you have to take care of yourself.”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard by his words. It was something you always told him whenever he pushed himself too hard. “Stealing my lines now?” you teased, and he chuckled warmly.

After dinner, you suggested taking a walk. Seungcheol hesitated, asking if you were too tired, but you insisted. He figured you must’ve missed him more than you were letting on, and the thought filled him with a fluttery warmth he couldn’t quite explain.

As the two of you strolled down the quiet street, the chill of the night air began to creep in. Seungcheol noticed you shivering and immediately shrugged off his jacket, wrapping it snugly around your shoulders.

“Such a gentleman,” you teased with a playful smile, and he let out a small laugh, shaking his head.

“You know I’d do anything for you, right?” Seungcheol said shyly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You looked up at him, your lips curling into a smile as you clung to his arm. “Anything?” you challenged with a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Would you kill someone for me?”

Seungcheol’s brows furrowed, though his lips twitched with amusement. “Not to that scale. Know your place!” he shot back, earning a soft laugh from you.

"Are you happy with me?" Seungcheol’s voice broke the comfortable silence as he reached for your hand, holding it firmly before swinging it lightly, a playful gesture to get your attention. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, and you couldn’t help but smile at the warmth radiating from him.

You nodded eagerly, the sincerity in your expression clear. "I think you’re one of the very few people who can make me this happy," you admitted, your words filled with genuine affection.

His brows furrowed almost immediately, and he stopped walking, a playful pout forming on his lips. "I’m not the only one?" he asked, feigning offense.

You chuckled, amused by his theatrics. "Know your place," you teased, leaning closer as a mischievous grin spread across your face.

His pout melted into a radiant smile, his dimple making a brief appearance. "I was kidding earlier, babe," he said softly, though his playful tone lingered as he began walking backward to face you, still holding your hand securely in his.

Seungcheol's gaze lingered on you, his eyes warm and filled with adoration. After a moment, he raised a brow and asked, “Can I stay the night?” The flirty tilt of his tone made you raise yours in mock disbelief.

“Isn’t this the first time you’re actually asking?” you questioned, suppressing a laugh as you tilted your head.

He nodded, chuckling at your amused expression. “I know, I know. I must be the worst boyfriend, huh? I never ask for consent, I won’t kill anyone for my girlfriend, and to top it all off, I make fun of her slender arms.”

You gasped in mock outrage and raised your hand to playfully slap his arm, but he anticipated it and bolted ahead, laughter echoing through the quiet park near the restaurant. The chase was on, and you found yourself running after him, your laughter mingling with his in the cool night air.

That night, before heading home, the park became your private playground, filled with stolen moments of joy and carefree laughter. You hoped, for both your sakes, that no paparazzi managed to capture the scene.

*

You entered your apartment, Seungcheol trailing behind you. Though it wasn’t as luxurious or spacious as Seungcheol’s place, it carried a charm he adored—you. Every corner of your home was filled with your scent, your presence, and your personality. To him, it wasn’t just a place—it was a sanctuary, his sanctuary.

“Home sweet home,” you muttered, kicking off your shoes. Seungcheol smiled, watching as you settled in, your energy shifting into the comfort of your space.

As usual, Jibby, your orange tabby cat, sauntered over to greet you, his tail flicking lazily behind him. The cat had been your loyal companion ever since you rescued him on a shooting set two years ago. Predictably, Jibby ignored Seungcheol entirely, keeping his amber eyes locked on you with unwavering devotion.

“Still no love for me, huh?” Seungcheol joked, crouching to scratch Jibby behind the ears, only to receive a flick of the tail in return. “This cat’s got some serious attitude.”

You chuckled, picking up Jibby and holding him close. “He’s selective. He knows who pays the rent around here.”

As you placed Jibby back on the floor, you noticed strands of his fur scattered everywhere. “Oh, Jibby! Your fur’s everywhere!” you exclaimed, brushing some off your pants.

Seungcheol nodded in agreement, crouching to inspect the floor. “It’s not even summer, and he’s already shedding like crazy. You think he’s stressed?”

Your face filled with concern as you knelt beside Jibby, running your hands gently over his fur. “Oh no, Jibby. What’s wrong, baby? Are you okay?”

Before you could continue, Jibby let out a loud, startling meow, making both you and Seungcheol jump. The sound was completely out of character—Jibby was always a calm and quiet cat.

“That’s...new,” Seungcheol said, frowning. “I’ve never heard him meow like that before.”

Your concern deepened, and as if on cue, there was a knock at the door. Opening it, you found your building’s security guard standing there. “Sorry to bother you,” he said, his tone apologetic. “We got a report from your neighbor. They said your cat’s been meowing loudly for hours. Is everything okay?”

You turned back to Jibby, the worry evident in your eyes. “I don’t know,” you admitted, stroking his fur as he let out another sharp meow. “I think something’s wrong.”

That night, sleep was the last thing on your mind. You stayed up with Jibby, trying to comfort him as his restless meows continued. Seungcheol, sensing how stressed you were, insisted on staying over. When he saw how exhausted you looked around 3 a.m., he gently took over, cradling Jibby in his arms while you rested on the couch.

By dawn, it was clear Jibby needed professional care. “I’ll take him to the vet,” Seungcheol offered, his voice soft but firm. “You’ve got an early schedule, and I can handle this.”

You hesitated, guilt flickering in your eyes. “Are you sure? You’ve already—”

“Hey,” he interrupted, giving you a reassuring smile. “Jibby’s family. And family takes care of each other.”

As you watched him gently place Jibby into the carrier, whispering soothing words to the stressed cat, you felt a swell of gratitude and love for the man who had seamlessly woven himself into your life—and Jibby’s too.

The next day, Seungcheol received a call from the vet. The feline, Jibby, was missing home and showing signs of increased stress. Hearing this, Seungcheol couldn’t help but worry. You were out of town for a shooting schedule and wouldn’t be back until the next day, so Seungcheol decided to take matters into his own hands. He asked his manager to help him pick up Jibby from the vet, determined to make the cat feel better.

Driving to your apartment with Jibby in the passenger seat was no small task. The cat meowed incessantly, his cries echoing through the car. Seungcheol tried speaking to him in the same soft, soothing tone he had heard you use countless times. “Hey, buddy, we’re going home. You’ll feel better soon, I promise,” he said, glancing over at Jibby. But his attempts were futile; the cat’s distress didn’t subside, and Seungcheol found himself understanding your concern on a much deeper level.

Once they arrived, Seungcheol texted you: “Jibby’s home safe now. Don’t worry, I’ve got him.”

He set down Jibby’s carrier, opened it, and placed some food in the bowl. He watched as the cat cautiously stepped out, sniffing around before beginning to eat. Gradually, Jibby seemed to relax.

Seungcheol didn’t turn on the lights, thinking it might overwhelm Jibby. Instead, he opened the curtains slightly, letting the moonlight bathe the room in a soft glow. Leaning back on the couch, he kept an eye on the cat, who finally settled beside him.

“You finally opened up to me, huh, Jibby?” Seungcheol murmured, his voice tinged with amusement. It felt like a small victory to earn even a fraction of the cat’s trust.

Suddenly, the sound of the passcode being entered broke the serene moment. Seungcheol sat up, his body tensing. You weren’t supposed to be home until tomorrow. Who could it be?

The door creaked open, and a shadowy figure in a hoodie stepped inside. Jibby’s demeanor shifted instantly; he bolted toward the figure, his fur standing on end as he hissed and meowed angrily.

Seungcheol’s heart pounded as he rose from the couch, flipping on the lights. “Who are you?” he barked, his voice filled with authority. The intruder froze for a second before bolting for the door.

Not wasting a moment, Seungcheol dashed after him. The man was just reaching the emergency exit when Seungcheol grabbed him by the hoodie and shoved him against the wall with a force that came from pure adrenaline.

“Who are you?!” Seungcheol growled, his voice dangerously low as he pressed the man harder against the wall, preventing any chance of escape. “Why are you here? Why do you know my girlfriend’s passcode?”

The intruder struggled, but Seungcheol’s grip was unyielding. The hours he’d spent learning jiu-jitsu were finally paying off. His sharp eyes scanned the area until he spotted a CCTV camera. Without hesitation, he dragged the man into its view, ensuring the footage would capture everything.

Jibby followed, his meows loud and furious as if scolding the man himself. The cat even swiped at the intruder’s legs, his claws adding to the chaos.

Moments later, two security guards arrived, their faces a mix of concern and confusion. “What’s going on here?” one of them asked.

Seungcheol’s jaw tightened as he explained, his voice steady but laced with anger. “This guy broke into my girlfriend’s apartment. He knew her passcode. I caught him before he could get away.”

The guards immediately restrained the man, apologizing profusely to Seungcheol. “We’ll handle this. Thank you for acting quickly, sir,” one of them said as they led the intruder away.

Seungcheol stood tall in front of the man sitting tied to the chair in the dimly lit security room. The sight of him was sickening. Moments earlier, Seungcheol had watched the CCTV footage of this guy sneaking into your apartment multiple times in recent days. A wave of anger surged through him as he pieced things together. Was this the reason Jibby had been so stressed lately?

Seungcheol’s hand instinctively went to rub Jibby, who sat calmly in his arms, a stark contrast to the turmoil bubbling inside him. The cat, ever so loyal, seemed to sense his unease.

The man muttered something under his breath, barely audible. “I’m just a fan…”

Seungcheol’s blood boiled at those words. He stepped closer, his voice sharp and unwavering. “No fan should do this. You’re not a fan—you’re a criminal!” He clenched his fists, the urge to lash out barely held in check.

The security guards standing nearby intervened, stepping between Seungcheol and the intruder. “Sir, please, the cops are on their way. We need your cooperation,” one of them said firmly, trying to de-escalate the situation.

But Seungcheol wasn’t ready to let it go. He glared at the man, his voice dripping with contempt. “What did you do? Did you plant a camera or something? Huh?” He leaned in, his intense gaze locking on the man, pressing him for answers.

The intruder hesitated, his eyes darting nervously before he gave a reluctant nod. That was all it took. Rage exploded in Seungcheol as he handed Jibby to a nearby guard before grabbing the man by his collar.

“You sick—” Seungcheol growled, but before he could finish or act on his anger, the security team pulled him back, their firm grip reminding him to maintain control.

“Mr. Choi, we’ve got this. Let us handle it,” one of the guards reassured him.

Seungcheol’s chest heaved as he let go, glaring daggers at the man who cowered in the chair.

Seungcheol stormed out of the security room, his frustration bubbling over as he marched toward the head of security standing nearby.

“How did this even happen?” Seungcheol’s voice was sharp, cutting through the tense atmosphere. “Your job is to protect her and everyone in this building. Do you even realize how badly you’ve failed?”

The head of security looked uneasy but tried to maintain composure. “Sir, we’re investigating the breach—”

“Investigating?” Seungcheol scoffed, his voice rising. “This isn’t some minor mistake! That man entered her home multiple times, and you didn’t notice? What if she had been home alone? Can you guarantee what that bastard could’ve done to her?” His voice cracked slightly at the end, the thought of you in danger overwhelming him.

“Mr. Choi, I assure you—”

“No!” Seungcheol cut him off, stepping closer. “You can’t assure me of anything. You couldn’t even keep a stranger out of her home! She trusted this place to be safe, and you let her down.”

The head of security hesitated, clearly struggling to respond, as Seungcheol continued. “Do you know how terrified she’ll be when she finds out? Do you know how hard she works, how much she sacrifices, only to come home to this?”

Taking a deep breath, he added, “I don’t care what it takes—double the patrols, update your system, install better cameras, do something. Because if this happens again, I swear, there’ll be hell to pay.”

The head of security nodded quickly. “Understood, Mr. Choi. We’ll prioritize this immediately. I’ll personally oversee the updates and report back.”

Turning on his heel, Seungcheol made his way back to your apartment with Jibby settled on his arms. As he entered, he set Jibby down gently and sighed, his heart still racing. His protective instincts were on overdrive, and all he wanted was to make sure you were safe.

He sent you another text:

“Call me when you can.”

Seungcheol leaned back on the couch, his gaze shifting to Jibby, who was curled up on the carpet, seemingly calm after the ordeal. The sight of the cat, finally at ease, should’ve been comforting, but it wasn’t.

The thought of leaving you and Jibby alone in this apartment, even for a second, made his stomach twist. He sat forward, rubbing his temples as his mind raced. “I can’t just leave you here,” he muttered, as if Jibby could understand.

Decision made, Seungcheol stood and began gathering a few of Jibby’s essentials. He packed the cat’s food, a couple of toys, and the small bed you’d bought for him. Jibby tilted his head curiously, his tail flicking as he watched Seungcheol move around.

“You’re coming with me, buddy,” Seungcheol said softly, crouching down to scratch behind Jibby’s ears. “At least until we know this place is safe again. No arguments, okay?”

Jibby responded with a low purr, and Seungcheol took it as agreement.

*

"Why is he in your place?" you asked, your laughter spilling through the phone as you watched Jibby sprawled comfortably beside Seungcheol on his couch. His home looked warm and inviting in the dim lighting, and even through the screen, you could see how relaxed Jibby seemed.

Seungcheol smiled at your reaction, his voice softening. "Jibby feels at home here. I think he loves my place. Isn’t that right, Jibby? You want to live here with me?"

As if on cue, Jibby let out a soft meow and snuggled closer into Seungcheol’s arm, his orange fur brushing against Seungcheol’s sweater. You chuckled, shaking your head in disbelief.

"I left him with you for one day, and now you two are best friends? This is betrayal," you teased, though your heart warmed at the sight of them together.

Seungcheol laughed, patting Jibby gently on his back. "Oh, it’s not betrayal. He actually loves me—he just doesn’t want to make you jealous."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. "Sure, sure. Next thing I know, you’ll be telling me he’s moving in with you."

Seungcheol tilted his head, a playful glint in his eyes. "Actually, I was thinking you both could. I mean, look at him. He’s practically claimed my couch already."

Your laugh turned into a soft sigh. "Babe, you’re joking, right?"

"Am I?" He raised an eyebrow, his tone playful but his expression growing serious. "Think about it. Jibby clearly loves it here. My place is bigger and you wouldn’t have to worry about leaving him when you’re out for work. Plus..."—his voice softened—"I’d get to see you every day."

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the earnestness in his words. "Baby, are you actually suggesting I move in with you?"

"Why not?" He shrugged, but the hopeful look in his eyes betrayed how much he meant it. "It makes sense. Jibby’s happy here, and I’d feel better knowing you’re both safe. You can have your own space, do things your way. No pressure, but... I’d really like it if you were here."

Your gaze shifted to Jibby, who was now fully sprawled out on Seungcheol’s lap, purring softly. The sight was oddly comforting, and you couldn’t deny how much you missed Seungcheol already, even though you’d only been apart for a day.

"I don’t know," you said hesitantly, though your voice wavered with the idea already taking root in your mind. "It’s a big step."

Seungcheol leaned closer to the camera, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Big steps aren’t so scary when you’re not taking them alone, you know. Just think about it, okay?"

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you nodded, unable to suppress the smile that crept onto your face. "I’ll think about it."

Seungcheol grinned, the kind of grin that made your chest feel warm. "Good. Jibby and I will be waiting."

The sight of him and Jibby, so at ease together, made you wonder if moving in wasn’t such a crazy idea after all.

End.

[dykedvonte]

One of my mutuals opinions is the "bro code" thing, that Curly is one of those guys who wouldn't care about the victim because the perpetrator is his friend and I'm really banging my head on the wall like that other anon. I've only played through the game once but Curly's behaviour/reactions etc read completely different from the "bro code" thing and I have to wonder if my mutual and I even played the same game.. like the constant digs at him from Jimmy, his body language in his face reveal and so on like you mentioned in your post. While this game is a little different obviously, it kind of reminded of a point in Alice Madness Returns that makes it very clear that Alice's pain blinded her to the abuse of the other children and her failure to act earlier because of it. Curly is guilty of a similar inaction but it doesn't change the fact he was a victim of Jimmy too. I don't think I can look at it any other way because both of these games have really stuck with me.

I genuinely think it really is the idea that people want a simple easy to blame problem and the idea that the only relatable victims of abuse are those that "surpass" it or do a lot to help others. When it comes to victims, especially those that don't fit the typical demographics, who either accidently perpetuate it, enable it or aren't ideal in some way shape or form, people jump to ignore what they went through as it's easier than dealing with those conflicting sentiments.

The bro-code conversation in Mouthwashing stems from a concept I generally dislike that there had to be something about Curly that made him meet or keep being friends with someone like Jimmy. I think people genuinely underestimate how many like decent and good people just know an asshole or are friends with someone who is really bad outside of their view/established dynamics. The game makes it clear none of the inaction against Jimmy is because of a lack of care, it is a lack of understanding from the privaleged postions they have as men to not have to worry about what Anya does/went through and the type of extremes men like Jimmy will go through to cover it up. They are all too preoccupied in their own strifes.

Another thing I see being oversaturated the idea that you have to be a freak, misanthrope or have a disorder to do the thing Jimmy does. The game is an escalation, it's a spiral that I don't see people comment on that Jimmy was not likely having the mood swings and episodes of rage/frustration we were seeing in the game. This is after they all start experiencing the worst moments in their lives that he got THAT openly bad. Of course, this is just my interpretation but much like in real life, people that go to extremes like that usually live mundane lives. It's a pressure cooker affect to where the stress made them pop. It's self inflicted but still the case.

I really think people need to be more willing to acknowledge that not everything needs to be an extreme or in black and white or easy to understand. It doesn't need to be happy or have an answer or solution, especially in the cases where the abused sadly helps perpetuate what they experience. It's not he should've known better from experience or shouldn't he have known what could've happened because victims tend to not like to think in matters of the worst. Not to mention, especially in cases of abuse where it feels so personally directed that you don't expect to happen to someone else.

[leighsartworks216]

Yes This Fear's Got A Hold On Me

Zayne x gn!Reader

Literally drabbled this out earlier while cooking dinner bc it hit me so hard. I think I'm just in the mood for putting Zayne through angst rn

Title from "Death" by White Lies

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, fear of death, overthinking, domestic moments, established relationship, rain/storms, recklessness, self-sacrificing behavior, cooking/food

Word Count: 1,767

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

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“I can’t answer the phone right now, I’m too busy kicking Wanderer butt! Leave a message and-”

Zayne sighs and hits the end call button again. Every call goes straight to voicemail. He can’t help but be worried.

The rain is coming down in torrents outside. It hits the windows like angry fists. The wind howls like wolves in the night. The streets are flooded, but even if they weren’t you took your bike into work today and all public transport is closed. He called your coworkers earlier, just on the off chance you actually listened to the shelter in place warnings, but they said you’d left an hour ago.

His pacing is going to eat through to the apartment below if you don’t turn up soon. He tries calling one last time. Not two words into the automated message, he’s ending the call and shoving his phone in his pocket.

He shrugs on his coat, prepared to make the last ditch effort of going out there to find you himself when there’s a knock on the door. One sleeve hangs half off his shoulder as he swings it open. His heart is caught in his throat.

You force a smile through chattering teeth. A puddle forms under your feet on the welcome mat, with smaller puddles trailing down the hall from the elevator. “My hands are too pruny,” you manage, gesturing with a nod at the door handle and its biometric lock.

He doesn’t quite register your words, pulling you inside hurriedly. Your shoulders are soaked with water where he touches them. Your whole body is soaked with water. He helps you take off your coat. It drops to the floor in a wet heap to be dealt with later. “Did you walk all the way here?” he asks. He already knows the answer.

You nod. You tuck your hands in your armpits, desperate to contain what little warmth you have left as he helps tug off your shoes. Your socks are soggy and uncomfortable. A forceful chill wracks your entire body, before settling back into the consistent, exhausting chills they were before. “I was gonna call, but my phone died.”

Well, that explains his last 20 minutes of frustration. “I’ll scold you after you get warmed up.”

“‘Preciate it.”

He shakes his head as he takes his coat off to wrap it around your shoulders. It’s ever so slightly warm from the short amount of time he had it on, enough to provide a smidge of relief.

Your steps slap against the hardwood as you’re led across the floor he was pacing only minutes ago. He leads you straight to the bathroom and abandons you by the sink to start running the water for a shower. You whine at the sight of even more water.

“Aren’t I wet enough?” You know it’s for the best, but you feel oddly reminiscent of a cat being forced to take a bath.

Zayne doesn’t dignify your complaint with more than a stern look. As the water runs, steam starting to billow up overtop the glass doors, he returns to you and steals the dry outer layer you’d only just gotten. You whine again, unbidden. He has the decency to look a little sorry as he continues to strip you down. “You’ll be warm soon. While you heat up, I’ll make you dinner.”

You shiver. Goosebumps raise up all over your body, exposed to the unforgiving air. You rub your arms. “You don’t have to.”

“It’s for my own sanity, if you must know.”

On any normal day, Zayne’s hands usually ran pretty cold. You liked to joke that it was because he’s a doctor, and all doctors seem to have cold hands all the time. Right now, they feel so warm against your skin as he helps you into the shower, under the blessedly hot water. He doesn’t pay attention to the water that gets on his sleeves as you cling to him. You think you see a hint of a smile before you close your eyes and put your face right under the spray, shuddering with the temperature shock.

“Take your time. I’ll leave some clothes out for you.” He shuts the glass door and gets to work gathering the soaking wet clothes left behind. If you didn’t get sick after this, he’d have to write it up in a medical journal as an unexplained phenomena.

“Thank you~” you call out.

He shakes his head, though you can’t see it. You really drive him up the wall, sometimes. Walking for an hour through a monsoon for no justifiable reason is up there in the most stress-inducing things you’ve done on the ever-growing list he has. And yet, here you are, thanking him as he takes care of you, fighting against the possibility of a cold that hangs overhead like an undeniable certainty. God, he loves you so.

He closes the bathroom door behind him and beelines for the laundry room. All your clothes go into the wash. Your coat gets hung up to air dry. He stuffs your shoes with newspaper to draw the water out. Then, to the bedroom, where he pulls out some fresh, dry clothes for you to change into. He sets them on the bathroom counter, listening as you quietly hum to yourself. At last, he gets to work preparing your favorite hot drink as he works on making a batch of soup.

All the while, his body readjusts to the fact that you’re okay. He hones in on your humming while he chops up vegetables, willing himself to relax and release all the thoughts that had plagued him before - terrible images, all made worse with his own medical knowledge putting names to all the conditions and effects that could have destroyed you. The rain knocks on the kitchen window as a cruel reminder of what could have been.

But none of it happened. You’re here. You’re only a couple rooms over, taking a shower. You’re here. You’re going to drink from your special mug and sigh with the first bite of your soup. You’re here. You’re going to be safe in his arms tonight, fast asleep, not face-down under the harsh flood-

The image of your bloated body, drowned and lifeless, jolts through his system like an ice bath.

You’re here. You’re here. You’re here.

He stirs the soup around the pot.

The water of the shower shuts off when it’s just about done. He pulls down two bowls from the overhead cabinet and ladels some into both. Though he doesn’t really have an appetite, he knows he should eat something. Maybe the normalcy of a quiet night in will bring it back. For now, he puts more of the savory concoction in your bowl than in his.

Your socked feet don’t make much sound as you shuffle through the apartment to the kitchen. The sleeves of one of his many cardigans is bunched up at your elbows, as they’re far too long on you otherwise. The sight of you in his clothes - something he didn’t lay out for you to change into, nonetheless - only makes the fear in his chest ache even more.

You smile at him, apologetic and grateful all at once. “I’m ready for your lecture now,” you say. He can see the way you seem to brace for it. The way you avoid looking him directly in the eye, like a child who knows they’ve done something bad and is about to be grounded for it. The way you pick at the threads of the cardigan, restless and anxious. The way your shoulders bunch up toward your ears without you even realizing, preparing for the blow of his scolding.

It’s all too much.

You look up at him with wide-eyed confusion as he crosses the short distance between you and wraps you up in a tight hug. His face is pressed securely into the crook of your neck. His hands rest on your back, drawing you close to his body. The warm air of his sigh graces your skin when you hug him back.

“Zayne?” You gently pet his hair. He doesn’t let you pull back to see his face.

In all your time with him, he’s never hugged you like this before. You can feel the way his fingers curl around the knit of his cardigan, the slight shudder in his breath, the tension in his muscles.

“Please,” he whispers - begs, “don’t do that again.”

Slowly, as the realization begins to sink in, you squeeze him tighter.

It’s easy to throw yourself into danger - you do it every single day at work. If you get hurt, you’re saving someone else the pain. If you get a scratch, a civilian doesn’t. If you break a leg, someone else gets the chance to run away. It’s a commendable trait for a Hunter.

You didn’t realize how painful that would be for someone else.

“I thought… I thought getting back home would… I didn’t want you to be alone.” The explanations all feel hollow, for how true they are.

“What if you didn’t make it?” he questions. His voice is tight with emotion. It’s locked away under a layer of severity. “Nobody had any idea where you were. All I knew was that you weren’t at work. If the storm overpowered you, we wouldn’t know. I wouldn’t know.” He holds you tighter. “I’d rather spend one night alone than the rest of my nights alone. Do you understand?”

You nod immediately. “I’m sorry.”

He exhales shakily. “Please, think of your own safety first. Just once.” His fingers slowly release their hold on you. His shoulders fall as he reluctantly lets you go. His eyes stare into yours like a turbulent forest, trees kicked all around by hurricane winds. “Are you still cold?” he changes the subject. You let him.

“A little.”

He takes your hand and leads you to the counter with the bowls of soup and your favorite mug. “We can eat this on the couch. By sitting together, we can conserve our warmth.”

You tug on his shoulder lightly. He leans down without restraint, watching you. You kiss his cheek. “I love you,” you remind him, feeling as though you need to after the hell you must have put him through.

He closes his eyes for a second, taking in those wonderful words. When he opens them again, the hurricane has been reduced to nothing more than a light breeze. He looks at you with all the love of winter giving way to spring. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @deepzombieyouth @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc

[shaisuki]

Hello!

I'm in looooveeee with ur work <3

So I wanted to ask if you could do a fic about yandere toji who kidnapped chubby darling... but still degrades her....and after chubby darling has had enough, she lashes out on him. He punishes her (　＾ω＾)

and chubby darling escapes the first chance she gets to do so ( i would love a scene where darling tries to fight toji off!! )

I love your works ♡♡♡

Thanks for reading this !

Byee (^-^)/

(*ゝω･*)

there isn't a way to fight someone like toji.

he was built for the violence and anything that entails with it. killing someone is easy as ripping a paper and toji with his reputation as an assassin didn't sit with you well. knowing you were in his grasp with no way out.

since the day where he introduced you to your new home, it was hell. you were the outlet for his frustrations while you played the dutiful role of a housewife. a warm meal served to him when he comes home while he earns the cold cash. a clean home that devoid of any dirt and unwashed laundry that would had last for days without you and a pussy for him to warm his cock whenever he wants it and a body to use as an outlet for his frustrations.

the first time you showed resistance to him, you ended up with a sore ass that if he took it even further you'll end up with blistered skin from how harsh the spanking was and from how rough he was when he took you.

it was a warning to never do it again and if you did it again, you were dead meat long time ago. you didn't resist after that and you played along to his whims that it almost drove you crazy. you're not going to get chummy from a assassin who took you away from home. never.

doesn't mean that you never counted the days, crossing out the dates in the calendar will you ever be free to him.

sweat trickled down your forehead when you hear the front door open. his steps heavy and dull thud can be heard. you never pry what his bag contains. it was not your business and you don't want to be involved in whatever shady dealings he had.

you listened for a moment. toji can be unpredictable at times. sometimes when he lost in his gambling, he'll come home with that irritating look on his face and he calls for you. telling you to put him in a good mood and you never say anything and you take it with your lips sealed and movements that was almost robotic. it's only temporary is what you console yourself.

a shiver went down your spine when you felt toji's presence behind you. it feels like he wasn't almost there that's what got you here in the first place. you didn't see him coming. “what're you doin' princess.” you ignored him. biting the inside of your cheek to avoid any remarks that you will regret.

the brute of a man ignored your silence and his eyes travels to the sundress you wore. fitting like a glove to your plush body. “looking pretty, dressing up for someone?” he sneers. cupping your sex behind you, his breath fanning your round cheek. you try not to wince.

“as if you'll let me go outside to meet someone.” you bite your tongue after that but you realize it's too late. well, might as continue it. say the things you'll get punished for.

a almost wheeze escapes through your lips. your hands scratching his arm but despite that, he remains unfazed. trying to pry his hands off you that is wrapping around your throat. it was enough to choke you without much cutting your air supply.

toji's voice were gravelly as he spoke. shaking his head in a manner that he can't believe what he was seeing and hearing. “you still have the fire in you and i thought you lost it after shaping you to be my own personal bitch.”

“fuck you.” a choked gasp coming from you when he tightens his grip around your throat. “i'll never submit to someone like you.” wincing as you see the veins in his arms bulge and you were really pissing him off.

toji licks his lips. dragging to where his scar is. “oh, really?” he snarls. his eyes darkening like he wants to kill. his bloodlust was all over and you can feel it. “let me see if i won't make you submit by doing thi–”

shards of glass came clattering on the cold floor. your hands came scrambling to whatever stuff it can get on and the vase was the first thing you had grabbed and without hesitation you slammed it to the side of his forehead. blood trickles where he was struck and it wasn't for toji to keel over. he only looks at you, annoyed like it wasn't a damage to be hit with a vase. this man took bullets and stab wounds and won't be alone defeated by being slammed with a vase.

angered by your action, with a strength that was easy for him, he slammed you to the cold marbled table of the kitchen that it almost cracked at the impact. you let out a cough. trying to get much air as you can. your air being cut off by being almost strangled let your mind forced to survived of possible scenarios to help you escape the danger you were in and without thinking, you kicked him hard as you can between his legs.

that loosens his grasp into you and giving him no more to recover, your eyes darts to the toaster resisting. it's funny how you look at it, and you doubt it can damage him further but it was better than nothing. you raised your arms holding the toaster and gathering all the anger you have for him and then slamming it behind his back. you hear him curse and without turning back, you ran.

grabbing a small bag that you prepared when push comes to shove and this was the time. after hastily putting your shoes on. you ran like the wind after slamming the door behind you.

without turning back and going for the nearest bus stop and with that, tears streamed down your face. not bothering the odd looks bystanders were giving you. cause for the first time you were free. free from that hell hole and yo his grasp. you ain't going back here and going to the farthest you only know.

this must be the taste of freedom and for the first time, you can breathe.

[fandomworld9728]

Polyship Week - Blitzo/Stolas/Lucifer (Day 5):

Relationship Anarchy/"You're burning up!"/Arranged Marriage/Only One Bed

"Why the fuck do you guys get to go but we can't?!"

"Dad calm down. I don't like it either but you're a human and I'm an angel. We can't just go to Hell whenever we want. Our bodies probably wouldn't be able to handle it." Vaggie set a hand on her father's shoulder to try and calm him down.

"You think I wanna go?"

Messing with their bowtie, Lucifer couldn't help but feel anxious. This was only the second time that they would be seeing their father. The last time had been when they had accidently time traveled into Hell.

The only reason Lucifer had agreed to go was so that Charlie could meet her grandfather and see the unexpected beauty of Hell like they had.

"You can share my room, Charlie."

"Aww~ thank you, Via."

"Oh, oh! Me too! Me too!"

Watching the little girl jump around excitedly, Octavia picked her up with a laugh. "Sure Niffty. You too."

"Girl's night sleepover!"

"Yay!"

"What?! Why does she get to go?!"

"Did you forget that my dear Niffty is half demon?" Taking his little girl, Alastor set her on his head where she usually sat. "Besides, I doubt that you could handle her while I'm gone."

"Can we just get this over with?"

"Come on, Luci darling. At least pretend to be excited. How about showing us that beautiful smile?"

~

"Are you sure this is the room we're supposed to be in?"

"Of course, darling. This is your room after all. Hence the one bed."

Watching the two talk and unpack their bags, Alastor could feel his annoyance growing. This wouldn't be an issue if Stolas stayed in his own room or if Alastor's room hadn't been destroyed by that imbecile Vox in his absence. At least he could take out his frustrations on him later.

"Alastor. Are you going to unpack as well?"

"Uh... Stolas. Alastor isn't going to be all that keen on sharing a bed with the both of us. He isn't that big on touch."

"Oh. Oh dear. What should we do?"

Sighing, Alastor couldn't find it in him to stay upset at the situation. It wasn't their fault. Besides, they could still make this work.

"As long as you do not touch me Stolas, I shall be alright."

"Yay! I get to be in the middle!"

Laughing at his goofy and adorable partner, Stolas guided them to the bathroom with him so that Alastor could have some privacy to get ready for bed.

"Let us get changed so we can turn in for the night."

~

Flopping down in the middle of the bed, Lucifer had to admit that this visit wasn't as bad as they had been dreading. Especially since now, they were gonna be sleeping next to Alastor. It was a rare occasion since he didn't want anyone besides, Lucifer, Niffty, or Adam to touch him while he slept.

As Stolas settled in next to them, they tossed his book away. Lucifer knew that he would stay up all night reading if no one stopped him. Plus, they were feeling a little selfish tonight...

"Could you not throw my book please?" Amused by his partner's childish behavior, Stolas positioned them, so they were laying on their sides with his arms around them. "Better?"

"Much. Now we just need Alastor and we can go to sleep."

"I am just setting up my radio. Or are you going to throw that as well?"

"Oh, ha ha. Hurry up~"

"So demanding. Do not worry your highness I have finished."

Smooth and relaxing jazz music filled the room as Alastor got settled besides Lucifer on their other side. Hooking one of his fingers with Lucifer's, Alastor thought that he could get used to this sort of arrangement.

{1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7}

[crowleyanthonys]

.

[sheryl-lee]

soooo turns out i have condylar resorption, a severe degenerative joint disease that causes gradual bone loss of the mandibular condyles (the bones that are part of the jaw joints, aka the TMJs). this has probably been going on i was a kid but went diagnosed all this time. my symptoms like functional issues, pain, etc. were repeatedly dismissed by doctors my whole life. the pain and dysfunction is increasing more and more by the day.

it's a progressive disease, and nothing can stop it or slow it down until the joints are completely eaten away. the only solution to prevent further bone loss and restore function is a total temporomandibular joint replacement, where the two diseased joints that literally hold my face together are removed and permanently replaced with metal prostheses. aka a major surgery with a 6-12 month recovery 😃

[skynapple]

.

[mejomonster]

You ever confronted by how much fear is holding you back on even little daily things? ;-;

[secondwhisper]

"Transmasculine people who claim to be adversely affected by sexism are bioessentialists cloaked in progressive language, discrimination on the basis of ""biological sex"" isn't real!"

Oh right, sorry. I forgot that sexism in medical research means that endometriosis, ME/CFS, migraines, post-concussive syndrome, Raynaud's phenomenon, and so many other conditions are only understudied in women. Of course endometriosis For Men™, ME/CFS For Men™, migraines For Men™, post-concussive syndrome For Men™, Raynaud's phenomenon For Men™, etc., are all well-funded fields of research and totally understood. Medical research cares only about the gender of an individual patient, not the association of a condition with people of a certain gender. Patriarchal devaluation of women's health, women's illnesses being treated as fundamentally hysteric, and (peri)cissexist reductions of any individual to the reproductive system(s) they were born with clearly only affect people whose gender is woman, nobody else.

Wilfully ignorant motherfuckers.

[sysig]

Cool guys, measured in C° (Patreon)

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

why does everything have to be a hecking issue with my sister

[mako-island-moon-pool]

Personally of the belief that live action fans who go onto animanga posts uninvited like 'I DESPERATELY NEED YOU TO KNOW THAT I THINK THE ART STYLE IS UGLY EVEN THO THIS OPINION IS IRRELEVANT TO THE POST' should be hit with a big rock. We already moved past this ten years ago, get with it or get lost. Swallow the hunger inside of you that demands everything be palatable to you. Maybe you could stand to be a little uncomfortable for a while

[muskpunk]

when eating doesn't make brain stop being Bad: uh oh

[jellogram]

None of my clothes fucking fit me anymore and I'm like leaning over the bathroom counter gritting my teeth going "this is fine this is fine this is fine" because I'm trying to dress cute for my night out but I haven't dressed cute in so long that none of my cool clothes fit me and I look ridiculous and I want to cry. I'm trying really hard to be okay with my weight but I have this really nice leather jacket I got for my birthday a few years ago and it's too small for me now.

[erraticroses]

...........