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enderlovez · 9 days ago

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Oooooo I have a Spencer x germaphobe reader where everyone knows how Spencer is with germs, which isn’t that bad. But imagine everyone’s surprise when they find out he has a huge crush like I mean in love with their coworker who is an extreme germaphobe (think of Ms, Pillsbury from glee) so she’s extra clean but he doesn’t mind he only has eyes on her so he tries to help her while also helping himself and she already has a crush on him but thinks he sees her as a patient in a lab even when he doesn’t but their feelings come to surface and they get a lil dirty lol angst, smut, and fluff thank u❤️

Germaphobe, Too

Spencer Reid x Female Germaphobe Reader WORD COUNT: 3600+ (yeah I got a little carried away)

Summary: You hate germs more than anything else in the world, and Spencer is so very much in love with you, so he's always trying to help you in any way he can — little does he know, that maybe you're feelings about the situation are a little bit different.

Content Warning: reader shows traits of obsessive compulsive disorder, germaphobia and germs, probably misinformation about germaphobia, NSFW content, reader is a freak, dry humping, reader bites Spencer a few times, miscommunication, Spencer likes boobs, groping, nipple play (sort of), unprotected vaginal sex (wrap it before you tap it), virginity loss on both ends, Spencer doesn't pull out, and I think that's it!

A/N I've never actually watched Glee so I went on a bit of a search-spree to try and find out how I would write this, so I hope I did it justice! Also, thank you so much for being the first person in my inbox, you have no idea how excited I was when this popped up, and I hope I did your idea justice!

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

From the moment you joined the Behavioral Analysis Unit, everyone knew you were different — from the way you open doors with your sleeves rather than your bare hands, to how you scrub your hands raw after touching something that's not even really that dirty.

And it's not necessarily a bad thing that you're so conscious of these things, it can just be a little... difficult to navigate sometimes.

Take that one time for example, when you were helping out on a case! Morgan had no writing utensils on him, so without thinking, plucked a pen from the breast pocket of your blouse. To anyone else, it might not have seemed like such a big deal, but you were close to tears.

To put it plainly, you are a germaphobe. You're like a female version of their very own Doctor Spencer Reid, but on steroids, and somehow still a whole lot more sociable despite this fact!

Seriously. It's not to say they don't still see you as the strange new girl doing 'strange-new-girl' things, nor is it to say they don't frequently talk about you when you're not around, but they think you might just be the sweetest human being to ever grace the BAU.

Which is why it really shouldn't have seemed like such a secret, shouldn't have shocked everyone as much as it did, that Spencer was absolutely and irreversibly smitten with you.

At first, it was just little things like watching you from across the room with this strange look on his face — he was just watching the strange new girl doing 'strange-new-girl' things!

When he started spending more time around you than anybody else at work, and when it became apparent that he preferred your quiet company, it was just because you showed some similar traits to him, right? Nobody thought anything different, because come on, this is Spencer we're talking about here.

But in truth, Spencer is beyond mesmerized by you, the most beautiful woman he's ever met, and so kind to everyone even though they clearly treat you different to your other coworkers.

The poor man doesn't think he could ever admit this to you, though, considering he's a blabbering mess of hot skin and stutters every time he talks to you. So instead of further embarrassing himself (and giving Morgan ammunition to tease him for the rest of eternity), he shows his affection towards you in other ways.

Spencer himself is not a big fan of germs, so he can understand, to an extent, how you must feel most of the time. You've explained it to him before, while he was standing beside you at your desk, watching as you wiped the surface down with an antibacterial wipe.

"I know it probably seems like I overreact, but it's not something I can just turn off," you'd said to him in a whisper once. "I don't do this because I want to annoy people or make life harder. It's just... if I don't, I feel like I'll unravel."

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

Sometimes it feels like the world is too loud. A stranger is screaming in your ear, you can't see them or touch them, but they're there; there's a bee buzzing in front of your face, but you can't swat it away.

How are you supposed to get rid of something you can't see?

You can't — it's as simple as that, but you can try you're very best.

As if sensing that your thoughts are headed somewhere unsavory, Spencer appears beside you on a rolling chair, as he does most days.

Out of all your coworkers, he's the only one that doesn't poke fun at you behind your back. That's how it's been your whole life, people testing your boundaries and teasing you for something you have no control over, so it's... a nice change of pace.

"Good morning, Spencer," you say softly, offering him a warm smile before turning back to your work. "How are you today?"

"Good—um, good morning," he responds awkwardly, smiling even though you're not looking at him anymore. You see it out of the corner of your eye, his little smile and his firetruck-red face, smiling faintly to yourself as you type away on your laptop.

You ignore how he completely dismisses your question, knowing he'd probably just say the same thing as always — 'Yeah, I'm doing great, thank you. As—as long as you're doing alright.'

He always gets so strange around you, and while you try your best to ignore it most of the time, it still irks you.

No, he doesn't join the teasing with Morgan and Jareau when they think you can't hear them, but he still treats you differently.

"I got you something," he says in a quiet voice, reaching into his bag and pulling out a book. You eye him nervously as he carefully places it onto your desk, using one finger to push it towards you. A tiny smile pulls at your cheeks when you see it's encased in a protective plastic film, but it quickly drops when you see what the actual book is.

'Overcoming Obsessive Compulsive Disorder: A Journey to Recovery' by David Veale and Rob Willson.

You peel the plastic away, tossing it into the little trash can under your desk and sanitizing your hands before picking up the bright yellow book, opening the front cover with a blank expression.

It's not like you aren't grateful he's trying to help, of course you're happy he cares so much. But a book isn't going to fix your problems, despite what he may think at times. And right now he doesn't feel like a friend, he feels like a doctor, and you feel like a patient laying on a lab table, vulnerable and stripped bare for the world to see.

For once, you just want to have a normal conversation without it turning into some kind of therapy session.

"Thank you, Spencer — um..." You voice shakes ever-so-slightly as you put the eyesore book in your bag. "I will be reading that tonight, that was very kind of you."

You know you'll probably put that book in a box and never look at it again. He doesn't seem to pick up on your unease, smile widening at your apparent acceptance of his gift.

"Actually," you continue softly, in a voice so quiet it's almost silent, head bowed forward, "I'm actually not feeling too well right now, think I might head home for the day."

The smile on his face falters slightly as you push away from your desk and stand up, packing your things away into your backpack. "Is everything — would you like me to drive you home?"

It's not unusual for your mind to trick you into thinking you actually are sick, but on the off chance that you really are feeling something, he doesn't think it's a good idea for you to drive yourself home.

"You know, about twenty-one percent of fatal car crashes involve tired or impaired drivers."

"I'll be fine," you reply blandly, though those statistics do alarm you mildly, stepping around him and walking in the direction of Hotch's office. "Thank you, though, Spencer."

As you disappear into the Unit Chief's office, Morgan give him this curious look from across the room, eyebrow cocked in question, but all Spencer can do is shrug, his own face twisted with confusion.

Usually when you get like this, there's some kind of trigger that sets you off, like a chain reaction of sorts, but right now, he can't for the life of him come up with something that might've set you off.

You're only in the office for thirty-seven seconds (Spencer was counting) before you reemerge, your head still bowed as you rush out of the bullpen, like there's something chasing you away.

"What'd you do to get Miss Sunshine all blue and teary-eyed?" Morgan asks mockingly when you're out of earshot. "She looks like you just kicked a fluffy little kitten in front of her!"

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

Spencer's never been to your apartment before — nobody on the team has, the only reason he's standing here now is because your address is on your information.

It feels a bit like an invasion of your privacy being here when he's not even supposed to know where you live, but Morgan was right. You did look like Spencer smushed a kitten under his shoe as you were leaving, and he couldn't in good conscience not check on you.

He reaches a tentative hand up, hesitating for a (very) brief moment before knocking thrice.

There's some muffled shuffling behind the door before it opens, revealing you, wearing a cream colored cardigan with delicately embroidered flowers on it. And while you're still neatly put together, there's a more casual air about you now, like you're more relaxed.

"Oh — Spencer, what're you doing here?"

Your voice rasps slightly, and when he takes a closer look at your face, Spencer finds that your eyes are a little red.

"I was just..." He pauses, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You seemed upset when you were leaving work."

You purse your lips and give him as once-over, then shift out of the doorway — inviting him inside? You close the door behind him once he's inside, guiding him towards the living room with a gentle hand on his back.

It's shocking, to say the least, that you're actually touching him right now, but he doesn't say a word.

"Would you — um — like some tea, or something?" you ask awkwardly, pushing him to sit on the sofa. "Or — or some water?"

"No, but thank you for offering."

You leave the room for a few minutes, presumably to make yourself something to drink, but come back with two steaming mugs, placing one in front of Spencer regardless of what he said.

Another couple of minutes pass where neither of you say anything, sipping on tea and glancing at each other every now and again. He's pleasantly surprised to find that you've used lavender tea.

Your apartment is very clean, looking more like a set you'd find at a department store than anything, but it's still so warm and inviting. You have a couple of candles lit around the place, and Spencer's fighting the urge to warn you about candle safety.

"I don't want you to try and fix me."

Spencer turns his head away from the tall bookshelf across the room to look at you, eyebrows furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

Fix you. What do you mean, he's trying to fix you?

"The book," you reply meekly, "I don't want you to try and fix me."

That catches his attention, the emphasis on that one little word — it's not that you don't want anyone to help, you just don't want him to help.

You must see the flash of hurt cross his expression, because you're rushing to elaborate, stumbling over your words.

"It's just that — um — I really like you, Spencer, and — uh — when you're giving me stuff like this..." You gesture to the coffee table, where the yellow book he'd given you is sitting. "I don't know, you kind of make me feel like I'm a patient in a lab. Something to be studied and prodded at and — and fixed."

"There's nothing about you that needs to be fixed," he murmurs, trying his best to ignore what you said — 'I really like you, Spencer.'

You place your half-empty mug of tea onto the coffee table and pull your feet up onto the couch, wrapping your arms around them.

"I wasn't trying to fix you — everything about you is perfect," he says, quiet and without thinking. "You just seemed so uncomfortable at work all the time, and I wanted to help you out."

"Why, though?" you ask sadly, a faint heat rising to your cheeks. "Why not just join in on all the teasing and mockery? It would be easier than dealing with me all the time."

"Because..." You raise an eyebrow at his entire face quite literally turns the same shade as a tomato. "Because I really like you, too. I didn't think about how it might come off, and I'm so, so sorry for—"

You hold up a hand to shut him up, leaning a little further towards him than he would have thought you'd like.

"Spencer, it's alright," you assure him, placing your hand on his knee, much to his surprise (and embarrassment). "You didn't need to worry, though — you're really the only person at work I spend much time around, and I'm not uncomfortable around you."

"You're... not?"

A soft smile graces your lips. "Not even a little bit. Not even at all."

Spencer deflates into himself, every inch of his his skin uncomfortably hot — this is news to him.

"That's a relief."

Your voice takes on a teasing lilt. "Why? Because you really like me?"

And just like that, his face gets infinitely hotter, but he gives you the tiniest nod, knowing that if he said anything, he would fumble.

"I don't understand why you're embarrassed," you whisper fondly, "I am the one who said it first, after all. You should be teasing me."

He might be the only one you'll accept it from, just like how he's the only person you'd ever accept physical contact with, the only person you'll ever trust enough to put your mouth near him, like right now."

Spencer has to restrain himself from physically recoiling in shock when you press the softest of kisses to his blazing cheek.

Your instincts are screaming on the inside, but if you're being honest, you couldn't care less.

This isn't a stranger, you assure yourself, this is Spencer, and he could never make you sick.

Spencer could never make you sick.

"Is this alright?" you ask as you press another slightly firmer kiss to the skin under his jaw, your voice dripping with something unfamiliar.

Unable to form a single word, Spencer nods, reaching to place a hand on the back of your neck, gasping when your teeth nipped at the sensitive skin.

It's a complete one-eighty from the shy, germ-conscious girl you usually are, but he can't find it in him to complain.

The girl of his dreams, the one who can't even bring herself to touch his hand at work, currently has her mouth on him, she's biting him, and his mind is in a frenzy.

"I'm not gonna freak out if you touch me, Spence," you tease lightly, lips fluttering over the space just beside his mouth. As if to prove your point, smirking against his skin, you take his hand in yours and settle it on the space just below your breasts — under your clothes.

Where you're not wearing a bra.

His mind reels and melts into goo at the feel of your bare skin against his hand, so soft and warm.

An embarrassingly loud whine escapes his mouth as you bite down on his neck again, sucking the skin into your mouth. His hand drifts slightly upwards, brushing against the supple skin of your breast and gently grabbing onto it.

Your breath hitches as he gropes at your chest, lips pulling off his neck with a little pop and head resting against his shoulder.

"Can I take your shirt off?"

Your question leaves him speechless, but he nods nonetheless, reluctantly letting go of you to help you get his shirt over his head.

The sigh of his bare chest has your mouth watering, and you want nothing more than to leave a trail of hickeys down his stomach, but first, you press your lips to his, hands threading through his hair.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs into your mouth, hands resting on your hips as you grind down onto him. "Absolutely breathtaking."

You tuck your head into the crook of his neck, whimpering as your hips wildly buck down on him. You've never been like this, desperate for the touch of another person, let alone a touch so intimate.

Spencer's grip on you tightens some, and he uses this new leverage to guide your hips, carefully pressing you clothed heat against the hardness straining against his pants.

"P-please," you choke out, arms wrapping around his shoulders, gripping him for dear life as he moves you.

"Hm?" he hums quietly, shifting the angle so he's rubbing right up against your covered clit.

"Please," you breathe out again, clenching around nothing. "Please, Spencer."

You're not even sure what you're begging for, only that you want — no, need more of this stimulation.

He seems to understand what you need better than you do, gathering your body to him and laying you on your back.

Your thighs automatically fall open for him, allowing his body to fit between them, one hand holding himself up. He presses himself against you again, drawing a desperate moan from the back of your throat as he works on undoing the buttons of your cardigan, letting the fabric slide off your body and pool at your sides.

The hand he's not using to support himself reaches for you, thumb brushing against your hardened nipple. The corner of Spencer's mouth twitches upward as you arch up against him, eyes screwed shut.

"You like that?" he asks genuinely, doing it again. You nod frantically, mouth dropping open, but no sound coming out of it.

"Yes," you pant, bottom lip catching between your teeth. "Yes, I like that — please."

"Please what?" His mouth descends upon your neck, fingers continuing their attack on your sensitive nipple, clothed cock still rubbing up against you oh-so wonderfully.

"Please... please touch me," you beg, unable to stop your hips from bucking up against him. "I need you to touch me, Spencer."

Such vulgar words coming out of your mouth. It shocks the man, but he complies, shifting his body backwards so he can pull your skirt and underwear down your legs.

The sight between them is magical — your folds glistening in the soft light of the room, you writhing in anticipation in front of him — and something he has, admittedly, thought about once or twice.

"Have you ever done this before?" he asks, running his middle finger through your slick and pressing down gently on your clit. You shake your head lazily, face screwed up in pleasure, a sight Spencer will cherish forever.

A strangled moan rips out of you as Spencer presses a finger against your hole, thumb rubbing soft circles on your sensitive bud, and enters you with little resistance.

"Neither have I," he admits sheepishly, pumping his finger in and out of you rhythmically, curling it until he finds that spongey spot within you that has you crying out his name and spilling over his hand.

"Two virgin germaphobes," you mumble jokingly, trying to wiggle closer to him again. You fumble with his belt, somehow managing to pull it through the loops, and toss it on the ground carelessly.

He helps you to push his pants down, just enough for his cock to slip out.

"Two virgin germaphobes," he agrees quietly, adjusting your bodies so you're both in a more comfortable position, sliding his heavy tip through your slick folds. "Are you sure—"

"I'm sure, Spence," you abruptly cut him off, running your fingers through his hair, subconsciously pulling him towards you. "Please just — just fuck me."

Spencer doesn't need to be told twice, slowly pushing into you, gasping as your warm walls suck him in, gripping his cock like a vice. He holds his breath, trying not to immediately blow his load.

You're writhing, gasping, clawing at his back, whispering his name out into the air, and it only works to make him more hungry for you. But he stills one he's fully sheathed inside you, giving you time to adjust.

"Does it — uh — does it hurt at all?" he asks in a whisper, directly into your ear.

"N-no," you gasp back, the small pain slowly morphing into one of pleasure. "It doesn't hurt, you can — fuck — you can move, when you're ready."

He doesn't think he'll ever be ready, with how tightly you're gripping him, but he still finds himself pulling out until only his tip is nestled in you, and slowly pushing back in all the way. You hum shakily, trying to press yourself closer to him as he repeats the action, then again.

Already so sensitive from your first orgasm, you know you're not going to last long with his slow movements, thighs clenching around his. Pressure grows in your abdomen as he thrusts back in, slightly harder this time, grunting into your neck.

"God, I'm already so close," you choke out, head thrown back, sounds you didn't even know you could make raking out of you. Spencer can't get enough of them, leaning down and catching one of your nipples in his mouth, gently sucking on the sensitive nub.

Without warning, you're spasming around him, drool dribbling out of your open mouth as you come, body going slack against the couch.

"W-where do you want me to—"

"Inside," you mumble incoherently, biting your lip hard enough to leave marks, tears building on your waterline. "Please, Spence, I want you to come inside me."

Your words alone are enough to have him spilling inside you, thrusts sloppy and unrhythmic. Your hum in content, clinging to him like a koala as he gently pulls his softened cock from inside you, rubbing soft circles onto the skin over your breastbone. It's comfortably quiet.

And then...

"Hey," you whisper in a tired voice, "you wanna go on a date with me?"

He smiles, pressing a soft kiss to your hip. "I would love to," he whispers back fondly before standing up from the couch, "but first, we need to get you cleaned up and rested.

#spencer reid x bau reader #spencer reid x girlfriend reader #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds #spencer reid x shy reader #spencer reid x germaphobe reader #germaphobia #fluff #smut #angst #enderlovez

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ozzgin · 1 year ago

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OZZGIN!

May I request an idea/imagine?

It is about yandere! mental asylum patient and psychiatrist! reader, who is very practical and strict regarding her job, takes no BS from others. But, for some reason, she has a soft spot for yandere! mental asylum patient. The reason could either be he had a hard childhood in which he had to do what he had to do, which brutally killed his father, who used to abuse his mother and sister, but when the father tried to sell the sister into prostitution to buy more alcohol, all hell break lose. Psychiatrist! reader thinks what yandere! mental asylum the patient did was OKAY, and she wants to get him out of the asylum. They love each other deeply and would do anything, so far as to kill for one another. If you can, make it as twisted as you can. I live for some dark romance!

Please ignore my request if you are not able to do it. I completely understand. Thank you in advance! <3

Oh my, this request hits somewhat close to home as I have a friend incarcerated for similar reasons. I'm pondering the logistics behind this context you've provided, since murdering someone won't necessarily land you in a psych ward unless there are other symptoms that come with it. And so I've taken the liberty to expand the character's profile if that's alright. (Conveniently enough I still have my psychopathology lecture notes)

I want to add, however, that this story in no way romanticizes mental illness! If anything, one may consider it an opportunity to reflect on the fact that so many people struggling with disorders do not receive the proper care for it, or only do so when it's too late. Furthermore a medical professional should never, ever behave like this and whatever is written here should stay in the realm of fiction!

Yandere! Patient x Psychiatrist! Reader

Featuring a patient that's pushing the boundaries of your work ethic and might even succeed.

Content/warnings: female reader, detailed mentions of mental disorder, violence, obsessive behavior, breach of professional conduct

You roll up your sleeve and check your watch. He should be here soon. Out of habit, you shuffle the papers for a quick case review, even though you already know all the details by heart. You carefully set aside the patient’s MMPI and WHODAS entry assessments, then your first interviews. Your eyes briefly rest upon the resulting report you’ve comprised: Schizophreniform Disorder (Provisional) with good prognostic features; Diagnostic criteria consisting of delusions, disorganized speech (frequent derailment with episodes of incoherence, echolalia) and comorbid catatonia. Responds well to antipsychotic (clozapine 25mg/12 h) with no imminent need for dosage increase. As it currently stands, he will be fit for proper incarceration in less than 6 months. Is it something you agree with? Not quite. You’ve presented your case many times and it has always been met with pitiful shrugs and dismissals.

The door opens and you fix your posture, sweeping the documents back into your drawer. “And? How are you feeling today?” You ask, flashing a professional, cordial smile as the assisting nurse leads the patient to his seat and prepares her leave. “My chest hurts.” The man answers in a low voice, glaring at the nurse. He taps his foot against the plush carpet, seemingly restless. “How bad would you rate it? Chest pain is a somewhat common side effect of your medication.” You retort, following the movements of the woman finally excusing herself and exiting the room. Once you’re alone, the man’s shoulders droop and he visibly relaxes. “It’s not that, you know it. When can I touch you again?” He pleads, despair twisting his features. You tense up at the words. “Behave yourself. It hasn’t been that long.”

It’s not something you’re particularly proud of. In fact, you might even call it one of your great shames in life. You’ve always been a textbook professional, perhaps even too strict according to your coworkers and most patients. Not even in your wildest dreams would you have dared to imagine you’d violate the code of ethics by falling in love with your patient. But something about his situation stirred your sense of justice. Surely one cannot be punished for protecting their loved ones. The only criminal in the equation, at least in your eyes, was that joke of a father and he had it coming. So you found yourself wrestling against a blooming protectiveness and favoritism towards the young man brought here last month.

What would have normally compelled you into action had therefore been silently swept under the rug. Or even worse, you secretly indulged in it. A patient showing signs of affection towards you would instantly be transferred to a different psychiatrist. Yet you couldn’t put away the letters written by this one. Erratic, crumpled notes of “I love you” written countless times, pencil dug so deep it tore into the sheet. Bizarre illustrations that looked almost threatening. His elaborate delusions before medication was introduced, where he’d detail in grand narratives how you were fated for each other and nothing would stop him from having you sooner or later. You do not know what forces possessed you into this addictive plunge, but you’ve come to enjoy his violent, frenzied confessions. So much, that during one of the unsupervised meetings you let yourself pushed into the sofa as his hands tugged at your body in rabid need. It was so out of character that you wondered if it truly happened, though the bite marks and scratches on your neck and chest proved otherwise.

“Are they going to send me to prison?” He changes the subject and stands up, walking towards your desk. “Most likely. What you have is the result of a traumatic event, not a lifelong condition. Sporadic episodes that can be kept under control with antipsychotics aren’t enough of a reason to keep you in the hospital.” You press your legs together nervously and glance at him. “Can’t you just say it’s no longer working?” He suggests, kneeling before you and placing a hand on your thigh. “You know I can’t lie on the report.” You really don’t like it when he manipulates you like this. “Ah, yes, because lying is worse than fucking your patient.” He scoffs, annoyed. “Don’t threaten me like that”, you say as you turn towards him, but you’re stopped by the rough grip of his hand over your cheeks. “I’m not threatening you, I’m threatening everyone else. Listen, (Y/N), I’m not fucking around. I don’t mind pretending to be crazy if I have to. Will the meds still be working if I steal a shaving razor and cut the nurse open?” You try to open your mouth, but his fingers are pressed into your skin, locking your jaw into place. “I’m not going to prison. I’m not. Then I’ll never see you again and that can’t happen. You know that.”

Eventually he releases his hold, allowing you to speak. "I understand. Then there's no choice but to arrange your escape." You sigh, defeated, and he raises his eyebrows. "Won't that get you in trouble?" You chuckle at his statement. "Either way I'll be in trouble. You said it yourself. Might as well quit before I have to stand in front of the ethics board and have my license revoked." You'd prefer to keep the last ounce of pride if possible.

He sits on the floor and you notice his trembling hands. "Nervous?" You ask. "No. Just really happy. I'm not a bad person and you were the only one here to see it. But God, (Y/N), I'd kill anyone if it was for your sake. I can't wait to hold you whenever I want." He gazes at you as a smile widens on his face.

#female reader #male yandere #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #male yandere x reader #yandere imagine #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere oc x reader #obsessive yandere #tw yandere

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sweetestcaptainhughes · 5 months ago

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the order of which this series will be written has not yet been decided. this series is currently on hold. Trust me I love this series and I plan to come back to it and finish. But this is a very very HEAVY series to write if do it properly and I don’t half ase any of my writing on my blog. That being said, currently I don’t think I am not mentally in the current headspace to do give it justice. Give me some time, but I promise I will finish it. 💜

Is today a dark day? - Cole Caufield (depression)

For the first time since you started dating Cole, your depression seems to be coming back to kick you in the ass. Scared of how Cole will react, you do the only logical thing and pull away.

Quinn Hughes (ADHD)

Can you tell me what hurts? - John Marino (PCOS)

Always struggling with having a abnormal menstrual cycle, and doctors not seeming to care. It sort of became the norm for you to just not really know what's going on with your body. After meeting John, you were worried if he would get scared with how sick you really got so often and run. Or would he be the one to stick around and try to help you figure out what's wrong?

Jack Hughes (OCD) (requested)

What are you trying to say? - Trevor Zegras (Dyslexia)

In the talking stage with Trevor Zegras you're not sure how his joking personality will respond to your struggles that you have with being an adult with dyslexia, especially since it doesn't affect you how media expects it to.

Why do you think that? - Nico Hischier (Body Dysmorphia)

Y/N was happy with Nico, he made her feel like the most beautiful girl in the world. But what happens when an old friend of Y/N visits and they start looking back on old pictures. Or how does Nico handle Y/N pushing away when her body dysmorphia seems to finally catch up to her after so long of it being pushed to the back of her mind.

Brock Boeser (Anxiety)

Matthew Tkachuk (PTSD)

Luke Hughes (Binge Eating) (requested)

Auston Matthews (Anemia) (requested)

Borderline Personality Disorder (player undecided) (requested)

I am open to the idea of adding players and different disorders or health issues to this list if you have any ideas please send in an ask.

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dailyadventureprompts · 11 months ago

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Monsters Reimagined: Yeenoghu, Demon Lord of Insatiable Hunger

It's been some years since I did my overhaul on the lore of the gnolls and how they embody the weird de/humanization that goes on with various monsters over d&d's history. Ever since I've had more than a few folks write in asking about how I would handle the default Gnoll God Yeenoghu, who exists in a similar state of "Kill everything that ever existed" to Orcus and a good portion of the game's other late game threats, thematically flat and not really useful for building stories around.

For a while I've avoided doing this post because I thought it might skew a little too close to my personal philosophy, and risk going from simply being influenced by my views to an outright soapbox. I personally hold that despite being part of our nature hunger is the source of the majority of human cruelty, and if society and cooperation are the tools we developed to best fight against the threat of famine, it is fear of that famine that allows the powerful to control society and secure their positions of privilege.

I've also dealt with disordered eating in a prior period of my life, alternating between neglecting my body's needs and punishing myself for needing in the first place. I'm well acquainted with hunger and the hollowing effect it can have, though I'd never claim to know it so well as someone who went hungry by anything other than choice and self hatred.

Learning to love food again saved saved my life. The joy of eating, of feeling whole and nourished, yes, but there was also the joy of making: of experimenting, improving, providing, being connected to a great tradition of cultivation which has guided our entire species.

If I was going to talk about an evil god of hunger, I was going to have to touch on all of that, and now that it's out in the open I can continue with a more thematic and narrative discussion on the beast of butchery below the cut.

What's wrong: Going by the default lore, there's not much that really separates Yeenoghu from any other chaotic evil mega-boss. He wants to kill everything in vicious ways, and encourages his followers to do the same. He's there so that the evil clerics can have someone to pray to because the objectively good gods are on the party's side and wouldn't help a bunch of cannibalistic slavers.

This is boring, we've done this song and dance before, and the only reason that there are so many demon lords/evil gods/archdevils like this is because the bioessentialism baked into the older editions of the game's lore was also a theological essentialism, and that every group had to have their own gods which perfectly embodied their ethos and there was no crossover whatsoever, themes be damned.

Normally I'd do a whole section about "what can be salvaged" from an old concept, but we're scraping the bottom of the barrel right from the inset. Likewise my trick of combining multiple bits of underwritten d&d mythology to make a sturdier concept isn't going to work as most of d&d's other gods of hunger or famine are similar levels of paper thin.

How do we fix it: I want Yeenoghu to be the opposite of the path I found myself on, a hunger so great and so painful that it percludes happiness, cooperation, or even rational thought. Hunger not as a sumptuous hedonistic gluttony but a hollowing emptiness that compels violence and desperation. More than just psychopathic slaughter and gore, it is becalmed sailors drinking seawater to quench their thirst, the urban poor mixing sawdust and plaster into their food because their wages are not enough to afford grain.

This is where we get the idea of Yeenoghu as an enemy of society, not because violence is antithical to society ( I think we've learned by now how structured violence can really be) but because society fundamentally breaks down when it can't take care of the people who provide its foundations. Contrast the Beast of Butchery with one of my other favourite villainous famine spirits: Caracalla the grim trader, who embodies scarcity as a form of profit and control in to Yeenoghu's scarcity as suffering.

Into this we can also add the idea of the hungry dead, ghouls yes but also vampires, anything cursed with an eternal existence and appetites it no longer has the ability to sate. A large number of cultures across the world share the idea that the dead cannot rest while they are starving, which is why we leave offerings of food by their graves or pour out a glass to the ones we lost along the way.

On that topic, there's also a scrap of lore involving Doresain god of ghouls, who has been depicted as an on and off servant of Yeenoghu. Since I'm already remaking the mythology, I'd have Doresain act as a sort of saint or herald for the demon lord, the wicked but still partially reasonable entity who can villain monolog before the feral and all consuming demon god shows up.

Summing it all up: Yeenoghu isn't a demon you wittingly worship, it's a demon that claims you, marks you as its mouthpiece and through you seeks to consume more of the world. It gives you just enough strength to keep on living, keep on suffering, keep on filling that hole in your belly and feed it in turn.

The greatest of these mouthpieces is Doresain, an elf of ancient times who's unearthly hungers elevated him to demigod status. Known as the knawbone king, he dwells within a dread domain of the shadowfell, and is sought out only for his ability to intercede with the maw-fiend's rampages.

Signs: Unnaturally persistent hunger pangs, excessive drool and gurgling stomach noises, the growth of extra teeth in the mouth, stomachs splitting open into mouths.

Symbols: An animal with three jaws, a three tailed flail or spiked whip. A crown of knawed bones (Doresain)

Titles: Beast of butchery, the maw fiend, the knawing god

Artist

#monsters reimagined #fiend #yeenoghu #undead #deity

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nick-writes-stuff · 4 months ago

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Coming Home (MC reunites with the demons post-Nightbringer)

Satan x Reader

warnings: one use of MC, hurt/comfort, anger toward reader for a moment, disordered eating mentioned?

notes: I'm gonna be doing a series of these for the brothers! I have one for mammon half-written and ideas for beel and lucifer. i still need to think over belphie, levi, and asmo so they might come later!

Reentering the House of Lamentation was a strange feeling. You hadn't really left it, as you were in the building constantly throughout your stay in the past. But it wasn't the same place you knew. Most of the aspects that gave the building its charm were missing in the past, and it just felt a lot less like home.

You made your way up the stairs as quietly as possible. When you imagined coming back to your time, you didn't think you would be sneaking in, rather loudly announcing your presence to the brothers. But as you spent time with the past versions of the brothers, you knew that one of them would definitely need your presence as soon as possible.

Satan.

You couldn't imagine the thoughts he must have been thinking. Back when he was newly created, he was so angry and unpredictable and violent. But you saw through the facade the whole time. He was just scared and confused and you knew that. However present-day Satan is convinced you are never coming back because he did something to you in the past.

He had hardly talked to any of his brothers since you vanished. He spent hours going through every single book in his collection, desperately searching for any information that could bring you back to him. When his search didn't lead to any breakthroughs, he tore the library apart in a rage. Lucifer tried to be supportive but ended up causing one of the worst fights the two had ever had. He had been holed up in his room since, over two weeks alone to ruminate and loathe himself for how he likely treated you in the past. He only ate when Beel and Belphie brought something up from dinner, although on nights when Lucifer cooked, he didn't make Satan a serving out of spite about their confrontation.

You needed to see him. You had to prove him wrong and show him that he was wrong about himself. He needed to know you were okay and that you still loved him with every fiber of your being.

The metal doorknob was cold in your hands. The house was still and quiet except for your heart racing. You twisted it slowly, trying not to make much noise to alert the other 6 brothers.

You entered the room with confidence that you knew how to navigate the room. You had been living in the past for so long that you had a good sense of where Satan's piles of books were placed even in the dark.

After your foot made contact with the spine of a hardcover book, you came to the sudden realization that the layout of piles in the room had likely changed within the many, many years since the time you were accustomed to. A stack of books came crashing down to the floor with a thud.

Before you could say a word, you heard the bed creak loudly and saw the faint silhouette of Satan's demon form rise from his bed. His voice boomed through the room as he charged closer to your location: "I swear to Diavolo whoever is in here I'm going to fucking rip you to pieces if y-"

Unlike most individuals in the devildom, you didn't even flinch as one of the most powerful demons moved to attack. Instead you interrupted him by flicking the light switch in the room with your magic. This stopped Satan in his tracks as he instinctively closed his eyes due to the sudden brightness. Once he opened his eyes again, his eyes landed on you. Looking at you with a gaze only the present-day Satan, your Satan, would have toward you. Not a glare of hatred and anger and disgust but rather his green eyes full of concern and love.

Before he even thought about checking you for any injuries, he rushed forward and pulled you into his arms. He buried his face into your neck as he let out a strangled sob. You felt your heart break into a million pieces at the sound of his sorrow. One hand rubbed circles on his back while the other found its way into his hair.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm okay. I'm right here, " you said softly. You continued murmuring similar sentiments to him until you heard the door swing open behind you.

"What the hell is going on in here-" You hear Lucifer's voice, cutting himself off once he recognized that it was you.

You felt Satan tense up in your arms, breath quickening as he felt his rage growing once again. You could already assume that something happened between the two of them. Regretfully, he pulled away from you and turned away from Lucifer to allow you to talk to him. You grabbed Satan's hand before turning around, rubbing your thumb along his.

You opened your mouth to say something until you saw Mammon behind his elder brother. The second you made eye contact, he bolted down the hall yelling "GUYS MC IS BACK!!" to alert the others. You winced slightly, knowing it was going to be hard to turn away the others to have a moment alone with Satan.

"You aren't hurt at all, are you? I was worried sick that someone would have-" Lucifer asked, with a slightly accusatory tone. It seemed like he was referring to a prior conversation, but you didn't entertain his attempt at starting a fight.

"I'm fine. Can you give me a second alone with him?" You cut him off. He was clearly taken aback by your comment and thought about snapping at you, but he left the room and swung the door shut. He would lecture you about it later.

Once the door shut, you turned around to face Satan, pulling him back into your arms for a quick hug. You took in the moment, finally realizing that it's really him now. You were finally back with your cat-loving bookworm once again.

When you pulled back, you noticed Satan scanning your form, probably looking for any injuries you were hiding from him.

"Satan, I'm fine." You said. He met your eyes, still seeming slightly suspicious.

He began to ramble nervously. "I must have hurt you. If not physically than emotionally because back then I was a mon-"

You interrupted him by pressing your lips onto his. He was surprised for a moment but eventually kissed back.

When you pulled away, you reached for one of his hands. "I promise, you did nothing to hurt me." You said with a gentle yet stern voice.

"I had to. I was so volatile and wrathful and-"

"Scared." You interrupted him once again. You squeezed his hand lightly. "You were just created and learning how to live in an extremely chaotic environment with emotions that were hardly your own."

He looked away from you to the floor as you spoke, and you gingerly guided his gaze back to meet yours. "You always seem to forget that I can read you like a book." You said, earning a light chuckle from him.

Satan took a deep breath, taking a moment to think before asking his next question. "If I hadn't done anything to you, why were you so insistent on getting to talk to me alone?"

You sighed softly. "Because I knew you would have been spiraling thinking that I was never coming back because you killed me."

He doesn't obviously react to your statement at first, but he then pulls you into a hug with a shuddering breath. He murmurs a soft "I love you" which you reciprocate. You'd never tell his brothers, but you feel a tear hit your shoulder.

After a moment he pulls away, covertly wiping his eyes of any remaining evidence of crying. You see a slight smirk on his face, a sight you were grateful to see. "Of course you would want to come see me first. I am your favorite, after all," He said jokingly.

You laughed, a sound he had been wishing to hear for weeks now. "Of course you are." You said, leaning forward to give him a soft kiss on the cheek.

"I know you were in a rush to see me, but did you have to go wrecking my organization?" He said, referring to the collapsed pile of books across the floor.

You lightheartedly rolled your eyes. "Listen okay, I was so used to living in this house but hundreds of years ago, and your room's layout has changed a lot since then."

He chuckled at your comment, a sound you too had been waiting to hear for weeks.

"I know you would love to have my company all to yourself, but I think we should stop torturing your brothers and let them have a proper reunion too." You said softly.

He was obviously displeased with the comment, sighing in annoyance, but you gave him a disapproving look. "Fine, you can reunite with everyone except Lucifer." he said in a tone where he was only partially joking.

You rolled your eyes slightly, giving him a kiss on the cheek before moving to open the door. Once you did, you were instantly surrounded by the other six most powerful demons in the devildom, but the most important to you stood aside for the moment.

#nick writes stuff #obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #satan x reader #obey me shall we date

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carpkoinobori · 5 months ago

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[†] thursday girl — giselle x reader

[𖤐] 1/1 [please be aware this is all fiction! none of this is real and idols behavior is not accurately represented.]

summary: you debut in SM’s newest girl group. The industry isn’t what you thought it’d be. It’ll be fine, right? or , more accurately: a girl’s guide to breaking all ten commandments.

pairing: giselle x aespa member!reader

to be honest the dynamic is more like the apple x the snake x eve

tags: angst, happy and open ending, literally just angst though, reader is raised catholic

wc: 7.3k

cw: dieting, eating disorders, religious trauma, catholic guilt, homophobia, internalized homophobia, comphet, mild implied sexual content, creepy variety show hosts and fans mentioned, the mortifying ordeal of being a girl

ex: not beta read, reader is third oldest/youngest - middle of five. reader’s stage name is Eve.

a/n: leaving this warning here. I was raised catholic. if you find negative mentions of organized religion upsetting, this one isn’t for you. NOT BETA READ ONCE AGAIN

psalm 32:1-5 Blessed is he whose transgressions are forgiven, whose sins are covered. Blessed is the man whose sin the Lord does not count against him, and in whose spirit is no deceit. When I kept silent, my bones wasted away through my groaning all day long. For day and night your hand was heavy upon me; my strength was sapped as in the heat of summer. Then I acknowledged my sin to you, and did not cover up my iniquity. I said, ‘I will confess my transgressions to the Lord’— and you forgave the guilt of my sin.

——————————————————————————————————— debut.

that’s what you’ve been working towards your entire life, what you hungered for, what you wanted.

since your early teen years, you’ve dreamed of debuting. You loved to perform, to sing, to dance— that’s why you were in your church’s choir group. The advent show, the way of the cross, everything— you were there.

did your parents approve of you being an idol? Absolutely not. They tried to convince you to settle down with one of the nice churchboys, the son of one of their friends. He was.. nice, okay looking. But you just didn’t like him. You dreamt of falling in love, being swept off your feet into happily ever after— but for most of your life, you had never even had a real crush! You must just not have found the right guy yet. It only counted when it was with a boy.

you auditioned for SM, and miraculously, you got in. Your days were spent training, dancing, weighing, singing, dancing, showcasing, singing, training, dancing, weighing— a cycle, really.

you met Yu Jimin and Kim Minjeong pretty early on, and you got along great with Jimin. She was catholic, and so were you! She wasn’t as dedicated as you, of course, but it was nice to have something in common.

you all didn’t get the chance to talk with Ning Yizhou a whole lot, even if she did share a dorm with minjeong. You dormed with jimin, but there was an empty bed.

that bed would be filled by one Aeri Uchinaga.

and from that day, your life would also be filled by aeri uchinaga.

The five of you were called to a meeting. You were a little worried, of course, clutching your silver cross chain and pressing the tip of it into your chest. A nervous habit.

“Hello girls,” the man began, the five of you sitting and fidgeting nervously.

“I have good news for you all. You five will be debuting as SM’s newest girl group, Aespa. Congratulations,” he smiled, and it felt like your world had just crumbled and rebuilt itself, three times over.

“We’ll begin thinking of your stage names soon, so feel free to give us some ideas. We’ll be waiting,” the man continued, and like that, the meeting ended.

you all had to celebrate, right?

The five of you met in your dorm, as minjeong didn’t want to bother the other trainee living there. You all begin thinking of stage names, and your eyes drifted to the figurine of Mary that sat on your nightstand. Jimin was thinking of using Katarina, her baptismal name, anyway! Your confirmation name could also work, but you weren’t sure.

“What if I used Mary?” You thought out loud, the other four girls turning their heads to glance at you, and the figure just behind you.

“Mary?” Jimin began. “Like, the Virgin Mary? Our Lady of Naju?” She questioned.

“Yes, I quite like the idea, don’t you?” The other girls knew you spoke a little formally, never really speaking in slang or impolitely in the slightest. It was your parents, after all. You had grown up in a secluded, small town in America, but your parents had taught you Korean, along with your own interest, reading books to perfect grammar. Sadly, that didn’t really teach you many informal words— not that your parents would allow that. You had to be a lady, of course.

“It seems a bit.. outdated, doesn’t it?” Aeri voiced, tentatively, and the other girls agreed with her. They began giving suggestions.

“What about Lily?” Jimin offered.

“Eden— no, maybe Eve?” minjeong hummed.

“Lilith!” Ning exclaimed, much to the amusement of the other girls.

“Ning, that’s similar to Lily, though, isn’t it?” Minjeong gave an amused half-smile.

“I guess so,” she sighed.

“I like Eve,” Aeri voiced, and the other girls all mostly agreed, although more name suggestions were given out, for everyone.

You debuted with the names Karina, Giselle, Eve, Winter, and Ningning.

you said a prayer every morning and every night, with the rosary that was around the figurine. A small Our Father, a Hail Mary, an Act of Contrition— no matter what, you never missed your morning and nightly prayers, no matter how small. You attended mass on Sunday, and while you usually couldn’t go in person, you’d try to listen to it in the morning, before it was time for practice, or at night, before bed— it didn’t matter how much sleep you gave up for it.

You were moved into a group dorms a bit after debut, Black Mamba being a sensational hit. You dormed with aeri, while ning and minjeong dormed together, karina having pulled the leader and oldest card to secure the single-room.

You and aeri weren’t exactly close. There was no animosity, of course, you two just never really got the chance to talk. It was definitely by chance. Not because she made your heart beat just a little faster, your steps a little more uncoordinated, your words fail. It wasn’t that. It wasn’t that at all.

you just admired the other girl. It didn’t help that you two had more than one language in common— aeri had gone to an international school, you were raised in america. You just hadn't gotten the chance to approach her, that was all.

well, the first night before the debut stage, you couldn’t sleep. You tossed and turned, finally sitting up, when—

“Can’t sleep?” aeri’s voice was low with sleep, and she was speaking in english. You felt an uncomfortable skip in your heart.

“Oh, yes, I’m just a bit restless,” you laughed, definitely not nervously. “I am, too. Just a little,” she replied, making a pinching gesture with her fingers, and a smile.

“Why?” You asked, even if it was kind of a dumb question.

aeri was silent, for a beat. At one point, you started to wonder if she was even going to respond.

“I’m just kind of.. scared,” she admitted. “We’re gonna be on display to the whole world, and who knows what’ll happen?” She chuckled, throwing her arms up just a bit. “I’m just.. worried. And.. I mean obviously, I miss home,” she added.

you looked at her, slightly, turning your head just to glance at the dark haired girl. “I know,” you murmured. “I miss home too, even if it wasn’t.. the most exciting place. I just miss it,” you continued. You were just a little afraid you were speaking too quickly in english, but aeri seemed fine. “I mean, I understand. I miss my parents,” she agreed.

you wished you could say the same. It’s not that you didn’t love your parents, but they were a little.. much. They didn’t like the fact you hadn’t found a guy yet. They’d ask you if you.. liked girls. You denied it, you didn’t! You were steadfast in your faith, dedicated, you didn’t like girls. You couldn’t.

“I miss my friends, you know. Sometimes I worry I’ll forget english,” you admitted.

“Well,” aeri gave a grin. “I’ll talk to you in english all you want if you promise to talk to me in japanese,”

you didn’t even speak japanese, but for her? you’d learn.

You smiled. “Of course,”

the two of you tried your best to sleep, after that, but it was mostly you two continuing to talk about anything and everything.

You could tell aeri was going to be one of your best friends. A reminder of home, if anything.

the debut showcase went great, the song was a hit, everything was good.

you and aeri spoke before going to sleep every night— you’d even bought a book about japanese grammar, how to read, write and speak it. You tried your best, but aeri had a nice time correcting you. It was.. nice. You always loved to learn languages, and for some reason, having someone who spoke it already help you was.. a bit comforting, in a way.

you still prayed every night, and aeri would sometimes give you a look, but she never said anything.

everything was going great.

until the hate began

Every little thing you or your group did was criticized, nitpicked, blown out of proportion— and the stress was getting to you.

you had never handled stress very well. You didn’t have a reason to. There was really nothing for you to ever stress about— other than following god, of course, but that wasn’t stressful to you. You had no reason to be stressed about something like that! You were a good person, you hadn’t ever wanted to sin.

some of the comments were about your appearance. It started to chip away at you. The company was always happy when you lost weight, so why not just a little more? It’s not like it would kill you. you were three months into an eating disorder that you called a diet.

the second you got up, you’d pray as your sustenance, head to practice, do your schedules— the other girls would order lunch, you’d ask for a salad. No dressing, of course, you didn’t like the taste. then, as you’d all get to the dorm, again, if there was even an hour of free time, you’d head to the company gym. Sometimes, when you were just in a waiting room, or you couldn’t work out— you’d pace. Anything to keep moving, you just couldn’t sit still. It was taking over your mind.

you couldn’t even eat normally. Any food given to you on a variety show, any drink, anything— mentally, you were counting. You liked to be in the negatives, you liked to skip meals, anything to be better. This was for yourself, so people couldn’t comment on you. You started to come up with even more elaborate ways to prove you were okay, to be better, you practiced more, you stayed late, you slept in the practice room, at times. You begged the vocal coaches to tell you whether or not you were actually good, and as much as they said you were, you just couldn’t believe them.

it was starting to destroy you.

“y/n?” Aeri called, as you prayed right before bed. She stood by the open room door, looking at you with a concerned expression. Why would she be concerned?

“Yes?” You answered, setting down the rosary, putting it back around the statue of Mary that watched over you so carefully. Sometimes, you wondered if you’d made her proud. Maybe if you said the suffering was in the name of god, he’d forgive you. He’d forgive you for the things you had thought and done and wanted to do. He’d forgive you. You could punish yourself, already. You could pray for him to fix you quickly, maybe you could give up eating for lent entirely—

“You.. haven’t been sleeping here, lately. We haven’t gotten.. to talk,” aeri began, sitting down next to you, looking down at you from where she had sat on your bed, right next to where you knelt.

you had completely forgotten your promise. It had just slipped your mind, you never really were awake enough for it, lately, and—

“Are you okay? You’re kind of.. pale, and you have dark circles, and-“

“Oh, I’m fine,” you smiled, quickly. “It’s just.. lent,” you lied, quickly. “All catholics fast and give something up for lent, don’t worry,” you assured, waving a hand dismissively. While it was true, it didn’t call for someone to starve themselves. You were lying. That’s a sin. But it’s just a white lie, so they won’t worry, right? It’s okay, you told yourself.

“We’re worried about you,” aeri frowned, putting a hand on your shoulder, the weight making you go from a kneeling position to sitting with your legs crossed. “I’m worried about you,”

god damn aeri, and her kind personality, and her need to care for others, and she was just so good- she was such a good person, and here you were, about to ruin her, damn her to hell. You were a horrible, filthy, disgusting person. For some reason, your eyes grew hot, but you couldn’t cry. You simply stared at her, with wide eyes, like seeing god’s light, it blinded you. You wished she didn’t care about you. You wouldn’t blame her. Vaguely, you remembered the first commandment.

the first commandment. Exodus 20:1 I am the Lord your God. You shall not have other gods beside me. You shall not make for yourself an idol or a likeness of anything in the heavens above or on the earth below or in the waters beneath the earth; you shall not bow down before them or serve them. For I, the Lord, your God, am a jealous God

“Aeri, I-” your voice cracked, and you were so determined not to cry, but you could feel your resolve breaking, because you were weak, you were weak to your vices and weak to aeri, you were so pathetic. The older girl let out a small sigh, sinking down onto the floor next to you, taking you into her arms. She was silent, for a bit, while you choked out words that were mostly incomprehensible. She ran a hand through your hair, and was a bit unsettled to feel how cold you were to the touch, but she pointedly ignored it.

“Y/n, you can’t let the words of those people get to you.. they won’t do you any good, and.. I know that’s hypocritical of me, I’m learning to ignore it too, but.. you can’t let it kill you like this,” she continued, voice soft. It made you sick how much you liked her comforting you. What would she do if she knew that you were so disgusting. You wanted aeri, you realized as you held her shirt, with some sense of finality hitting you. You didn’t want her to leave. You wanted her to hold you, and she wasn’t even aware of what you felt towards her. You were taking advantage of her. You were so disgusting.

“I’m sorry,” you croaked out, voice a little choked as you bit the inside of your cheek, trying not to cry. “I’m so sorry,” “It’s okay,” she said, a little confused on why you were apologizing, look of worry on her face. Not that you could see it. You had your head in the crook of her neck.

that’s why you were apologizing, really.

you were sorry that you loved her. You were sorry she wanted to help you. You she couldn’t fix you, no one could. you were defective, and wrong, and oh so selfish. Aeri was such a good person.

the presence of the statue on your nightstand caught your eye from the corner. You turned away. She shouldn’t have to see this.

you could feel the tears stinging at your eyes, the shame, the guilt, the hate— it was all too much. You needed to push aeri away, to get as far away from her as possible, to save what little integrity and goodness you had left—

but you didn’t.

you clutched her shirt tighter, breathed her in desperately, and let out a choked sound. You wanted to cry, but you screwed your eyes shut and bit your lip. The blood was heavy and sharp in your mouth.

You woke up the next day beyond exhausted, but in your bed and off the floor. You surmised that aeri had put you there. You held your head, and got down on your knees in front of your bed. You prayed.

“Mary, mother of God, please guide me away from sin, as you have for so many others. Help me to continue being steadfast in my faith, and to follow all commandments well. Allow me to be worthy of your son, and continue to protect me from sin. These thoughts have been given to me by the devil, as a challenge of my faith. Guide me out of temptation, and forgive my actions, in the Lord’s name, I ask for this mercy,”

you stood up. Your knees ached. Aeri was up, sitting cross legged on her bed, watching you with a concerned expression. “Why are you praying to Mary?” aeri asked, voice light but expression still a bit worried, if not a tad curious.

“Catholics pray to saints as well. Especially depending on their patronage— I mean, if I lose something, I usually pray to Saint Anthony,” you chuckled, explaining the concept.

“What’s Mary the patron Saint of?” aeri asked, softly, curiously.

“Many different things, depending on which version of her you choose to pray to. Our Lady of Lourdes is Mary, but when she appeared in Lourdes. She’s the patron saint of the sick. There’s Our Lady of Loreto, the patron Saint of pilots,”

“Which one do you have, then?”

“Our Lady of Sorrows,” you murmured, glancing towards the figure on your nightstand. The rosary was draped around her carefully. Her downcast, frowning face, her hands clasped together, the feeling of her porcelain eyes boring into your back nearly burned.

“What’s she the patron Saint of?”

“Sinners,”

the second commandment. Exodus 20:1-7 You shall not invoke the name of the Lord, your God, in vain. For the Lord will not leave unpunished anyone who invokes his name in vain.

practice that day went on for a long while. You were all practicing for next level. At one point, you took a small break, drinking water— your heart had been beating quite fast, that day, and your throat had been dry the entire practice.

during the beat change, it was nearly impossible for you to keep your eyes off aeri- or should you start calling her giselle, now? maybe it would be best to separate the two.

you shouldn’t be looking at aeri like that— but giselle was an idol. giselle was not your friend— she was someone untouchable, unattainable. It was okay to like her, to find her pretty, to want- no, no. You didn’t. You just envied her appearance, was all.

Your eyes were glued to her, the way she moved, her expression, everything, it was-

“Oh my God,” you mumbled, eyes locked onto her movements, before you heard the instructor call for you to get up and were immediately snapped out of your haze. You didn’t even remember the event before you went to sleep.

the third commandment. Exodus 20:1-11 Remember the sabbath day—keep it holy. Six days you may labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is a sabbath of the Lord your God. You shall not do any work. For in six days the Lord made the heavens and the earth, the sea and all that is in them; but on the seventh day he rested. That is why the Lord has blessed the sabbath day and made it holy.

It was Sunday. It was always a toss-up whether or not you’d have a schedule that day, and today you did not. You watched the six a.m. mass, while aeri slept a few feet away. You knelt when they knelt, stood when they stood, prayed when they prayed.

but you did not sing, no. That would wake aeri.

the girls usually used their rest days to sleep. You always woke up early. You were restless. You hated to sleep. In your dreams you’d see images of a life you could never live, of things you shouldn’t— couldn’t— do. You’d see aeri. No, not aeri— giselle. Aeri didn’t look your way on the stage, hold your gaze for a moment too long, send a wink. The company didn’t order aeri to hold you closer, smile at you more, intertwine your hands.

aeri would never look at you that way.

but giselle would.

you went to the practice room after you prayed. You rehearsed until you felt the world spin, your skin too hot- until you forgot about aeri, and giselle, and the figurine on your nightstand, and the pastor’s homilies, and the way your parents would never love you the same because of what you had done. You danced until your vision became blurry, so you couldn’t see your hands, so whatever or whoever you touched wasn’t your fault, so you couldn’t see their face. More likely, so you couldn’t see yourself, and the body you lived in. You danced until your ears rang, so you wouldn’t have to listen to the sounds, to how your members pleaded with you to stop doing this to yourself. Till you couldn’t hear the people telling you it wasn’t enough.

till you couldn’t hear yourself telling you it wasn’t enough.

till you couldn’t hear your parents words resounding in your head, the endless comments of it being unnatural, of being sent straight to the hellfire, to how it was the most hideous thing in the world.

till you didn’t hear the way fans leered after you, and your members— the stares they’d give you, as you walked, the way they’d clamber for you, so many hands reaching, reaching for you, to touch, to take. it ate you up inside, how badly you wanted to be pure. and how you knew, through it all, you never could be. they could imagine you any way, salivate, draw, take, write it in comments. They even had the confidence to say it out loud, passing comments on variety shows.

you danced till you could forget their words, their looks, what you knew so well that they thought, you danced till you thought your body would give out—

or, conversely, till the leader and main vocalist of red velvet opened the practice room door and rushed over to the the shaking body of their junior, nearly unable to breath, head in her hands and knees to her chest in the farthest corner of the room, brightly illuminated.

you wanted to assure them you were fine, but the cross chain you wore was too tight on your neck, the silver feeling like hot iron burning your throat. You swore if you looked down it would be burning into your skin, leaving a brand.

each breath felt like swallowing glass, and your eyes were unfocused, and your ears were ringing, and your body was screaming in protest of each movement, and your eyesight was blurring—

but you got up, bowed, apologized, assured them you were okay, thanked them, and left.

you had been lying a lot, lately. To your members, about how you were— to your managers, your staff, to your seniors, now. Lying was a sin. but you could excuse it, couldn’t you?

you hoped they wouldn’t mention it to your members.

the fourth commandment. Exodus 20:1-12 Honor your father and your mother, that you may have a long life in the land the Lord your God is giving you.

you rarely talked to your parents. You should call them, more. Or, more accurately, you should pick up their calls, more. Except, it was maddening. You hated talking to them. No matter how much you tried to convince yourself you didn’t, that they were your parents, and what they said was gospel, you couldn’t stand it. Their prying questions, asking how being an idol was, if you kept up with your faith, asking why the media would report on how “close” you were with your members— with Aeri. Asking why you had gotten so thin, and that you needed to gain weight. They would pick and pry at every little thing. You couldn’t stand it, you couldn’t-

the phone rang. Again. You picked up.

“Finally, you answer the phone, y/n,” the voice of your mother crackled, thousands of miles away.

“I’m sorry,” you respond, robotically, like a reflex. “I was in practice. We’re busy, since we’re preparing for a comeback,”

“You always have some excuse for us, don’t you? You can’t just talk to your parents? What a daughter, you are. We’re your parents, y/n, you should actually listen to us, more. I told you being an idol wouldn’t be good for you, and look at you now! Barely any respect for your parents, how horrible is that? I can’t believe you,” she ranted, going on and on about this and that and every failure and everything you should’ve done better.

“This is why I didn’t want you going away, I knew what it’d do to you.. we tried to fix you, but you are a sick, sick little girl,” she spat, accusingly. “You know what you did, you know what you did to this family— that I have to live with a daughter who’s-”

click.

You hung up.

her voice was so grating.

Your mother loved to spout silly little ideas, didn’t she? She was wrong. You didn’t do anything. You weren’t gay. You didn’t like girls, or a girl. They had just been confused. The reason you became an idol was because you loved to perform, not because it was your only way out— after they saw you with her. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t kiss her. You didn’t, you’d never-

the truth was that you had left your hometown because of an incident. Yes, you loved to perform, and being an idol was always on your mind. But you never thought you’d do it, how could you leave?

You soon found out what it was like to live outcasted, alone, treated like something wrong and filthy and horrible. Your parents didn’t help. So, you did what anyone would do— you ran away, off to Korea, off to the harsh idol system

because anything

anything

would be better than living with the guilt and shame, with the knowing eyes and hateful stares. anything would be better than being stuck in that suffocating smalll town, where everyone knew everyone, and all your secrets were magnified.

she had moved away, anyway. Her parents protected her. you protected yourself. You had to run.

so you did.

you had to kill that part of yourself, bury her more than six feet deep, deep enough so that the world would never find her.

You died the day your parents opened your bedroom door and found you with the daughter of a deacon, who helped at the church, who your parents had invited over for dinner, who they had been invited by for dinner. When they found you with the daughter of their friends.

they didn’t know whether to say if she corrupted you or you corrupted her.

they chose the latter, of course, they got to it first. They drove them out of town, blaming that girl for your transgressions. For your sin.

she kissed you, after all.

you just sat there and took it.

it wasn’t your fault, they said to the town. It was hers. You’re just too trusting and naïve.

if only they knew, the rest of the people. Your parents certainly did.

they forbid you from having any friends that were girls over, again.

and you understood. You knew. And you took it.

You killed that part of yourself, that day. Buried her, and tried to forget. But there’s dirt and blood on your hands and you’re still hollow. There’s nothing left of you, from before. Bright smiles and eyes, a cheery demeanor, giggling in secret with her- there’s none of that left.

You’re not a little kid anymore, a teenager with a crush, no.

You grew up. You had to.

and that little girl is dead.

dead and buried, underground.

you wished Aeri knew you when you were younger.

she would’ve loved the softer you.

the fifth commandment. Exodus 20:1-13 You shall not kill.

You know, there’s a reason priests and nuns can’t get married.

it’s because, allegedly, they’re married to god.

so, in that case, is it wrong for you, married to god since birth, by your parents— that anything, anyone other than a boy, was wrong?

you tried to understand, but you couldn’t. What was the consensus?

you knew, deep down. What you were was wrong.

and yet, you couldn’t stop. You tried. But you were weak, at heart. A sinner, with no control.

that was your downfall, you thought.

or maybe salvation.

You and Aeri were the last two in the practice room— you were near obsessive with your need to perfect choreography, and Aeri asked you for help, so— you were here. You had already released Next Level, but the practicing never stopped, obviously. You had to perfect it, make it yours, make it the best— so that’s where you were, right now.

it was late, honestly. Already dark out, and your other three members had long since left. You regretted saying yes to Aeri— you knew the choreography for next level, obviously, you knew the way Giselle moved made you feel something wrong, something dark and wanting. You tried to push it down, though— you ran through the moves together, you fixed some posturing and some other small timing issues, really, it was nothing major. You watched her run through those parts, and clenched your jaw.

you felt hot, and your hands itched to reach out and touch her. You couldn’t be making this up, could you? She was looking at you through the mirror, your flushed face barely visible from the darker corner you were sitting at. You swore you could see a smirk on Giselle’s face, for a split second, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

you hated it, hated how Giselle made you feel out of control, made you feel wanting, made that dark thing in you, shoved deep down, squirm and claw. You felt sick. You wanted her.

“I’ll be back,” you said, abruptly standing up and turning the door of the practice room, practically scrambling out. “Bathroom,” was what you supplied as reasoning, before you got out the door, rushing through the empty halls. They were weirdly eerie, at night.

you walked into the bathroom, the sound of your shoes clicking on the ground far too loud, the yellowed glow of the SM building’s bathrooms surrounding you. You gripped the sink, turning on the water and splashing some on your face. You felt dirty, and wrong. Your skin crawled in the suffocating space, the sound of running water driving you insane, the sound of your breathing almost too much. It seems you were in there for longer than you thought, though, as you stated into the mirror, lost in thought, knuckles turning white with the bruising grip you kept on the sink counter.

“Y/n?” Aeri called, opening the door.

You snapped your head to her— she was wearing just some white tanktop and sweatpants, with a black sports bra, but god.

Giselle walked over to you, with a concerned expression. “Are you okay? You’re breathing pretty hard,” she asked, walking closer, putting a hand on your hip, other hand touching your arm.

your composure snapped. You moved your hands to her face, holding it in them, looking at her with wide eyes. “Giselle, I-”

“Why are you calling me Giselle? That’s my stage name, y/n, just call me Aeri?” she said, a little confused and a little irritated. Why the hell were you calling her by her stage name?

you held her face a little tighter, taking in a sharp breath, mouth suddenly feeling dry.

“Aeri,” you murmured, voice low. You leaned in, and her eyes widened, slightly. She didn’t push you away, in fact, she met you in the middle, holding you tighter, moving her other hand to your waist, squeezing your hip, where she could feel the outline of your hipbone. You hated how much you needed her, the kiss messy and desperate, filled with an underlying sense of want and need.

“G- Aeri,” you mumbled, out of breath, panting against her mouth. You couldn’t reconcile the two, easily. Giselle was the one who was making you do this, right? Not Aeri, you didn’t like Aeri, right?

no, that wasn’t true. You liked Aeri. A lot more than you’d admit. You wanted her. You needed her. You couldn’t stop, now.

“Aeri, please-” you murmured, between kisses. They were more desperate, now, wanting, as she pushed you against the cold bathroom wall, the light flickering once. Twice. Three times.

“Yeah? What do you want?” She asked, lowly, eyes dark and pupils blown wide as she looked down at you.

“Lock the door,” you muttered, grabbing her wrist, tightly, and moving her hand upwards.

the sixth commandment. Exodus 20:1-14 You shall not commit adultery.

you and aeri never spoke about it.

but it became a thing, now.

you needed her like a drug, constantly wanting and waiting for the next time you could have her.

you and giselle shared a room, after all. you were pretty sure everyone knew. and by everyone you meant your members, of course. the public could never know, they’d ruin both your career and hers, and you couldn’t do that to her. you weren’t evil, just weak. just horrible, but not evil. you could never hurt her. you loved her, didn’t you? the way a friend doesn’t hurt a friend.

deep down, you knew. It was so much worse than that.

they couldn’t know the way you put concealer on, before practice. the way you were strangely hot and cold, terrified of her touch, but how the both of you would disappear into your room, or somewhere, together, always appearing back, more than a few minutes later, though the tension was always still there.

the way you had become a shell.

you were ashamed, really.

you felt so disgusting, all the time. here you were, dirty, filthy, robbing someone else, sullying them, damning her, all for your own selfish needs, desires, wants.

you had always wanted, too much.

giselle was your temptation and aeri was the sin, the collateral to the damage.

it’s not like she protested, either, the way giselle’s hands lingered, a beat too longer to be friendly. the way her fists would clench on those stupid variety shows, when the hosts mentioned your appearance, saying you were so pretty.

she hated how they’d look at you.

but you couldn’t see that, really.

you hated yourself, and you had stolen aeri’s sanctity.

it was giselle’s fault, though, you would think, sometimes.

but deep down, you knew the truth.

it was your doing. Your fault. You ruined everything you touched, everything you wanted would die and burn because you were a sinner. All because you couldn’t control yourself.

eve ate the apple, too, you’d think. but maybe, the snake wasn’t just the creature, no, but the whispers of lilith, beckoning her away, promising her everything she’d wanted. forbidden knowledge, godhood, becoming better— and maybe, even herself.

was biting the apple an act of naivety, of greed?

or the blind, blissful ignorance of trust? of love?

someone you loved wouldn’t damn you, would they?

but oh, you knew better. You knew.

you had stolen both of your chances of sanctity and holiness.

out of blind, ignorant, nearly all encompassing love.

it was love.

the seventh commandment. Exodus 20:1-15 You shall not steal.

The weeks went by, in this strange commitment.

you had just arrived back from yet another variety show, and Giselle was obviously annoyed at something. It was late, and everyone wanted to sleep. You made your way back to your room, the door open a crack—

giselle was changing into some sleep clothes. You didn’t really care which. the glimpse of her back, of skin, made you nearly feel ill. You shut the door, quickly, feeling like you couldn’t breathe. It made you feel sick.

you entered about a minute later, to see her scrolling on her phone, with a bored expression. You, instead, went and knelt in front of the small Mary statue you kept.

“Mary, mother of God, please hear my prayer. I’m asking you to give me the strength to-”

your breath hitched as you felt giselle put her hands on your shoulders, leaning into your back, feeling her smirk press against your neck.

“y/n,” she called, a mischievous lilt to her voice like this was a fucking game.

“y-yes?” was the reply.

Her hands moved, pressing along your collarbone.

“You know, I hate variety shows, sometimes,” she hummed, voice so unbelievably distracting. “I don’t like the way they talk about you,” she continued.

“I- I agree, I do, it’s quite-”

her blunt nails dug into your shoulder, slightly, as she pulled you back, just a bit, your back pressed to her front. Her head craned forward, to murmur into your ear. “It pisses me off,” she added.

of course, you tended to her anger. You had to, as penance.

later, when you were laying beside her, panting with tears in your eyes, saying anything that came to mind—

“I love you,” you choked out, reverently, like a prayer.

god never responded to those, usually. aeri didn’t love you back.

there’s no way god loved you. and aeri didn’t, either.

the eighth commandment Exodus 20:1-16 You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor.

“Tell me not to,” you begged, clutching onto giselle like a lifeline, holding her arms. “Tell me no, tell me not to love you. I can’t, I shouldn’t, I don’t want-”

girls never hungered. They never want, like a boy.

“And what if it’s what I want!” She spat back, acidly, pushing you off. “I love you, and I don’t know why you can’t accept that! I love you, not like a friend, or coworker, or whatever else you think! I’m in love with you, why can’t you get that!?” she asked, sharply, voice far too loud.

you didn’t know how to explain that you loved her, too, that you wished you could love her. You always wanted, so badly, to like a boy, and to love him, so you could hold his hand in public, and kiss him, and introduce him to your parents and they wouldn’t say a word, to be able to love him without just that fact being controversial, to love someone without it absolutely ruining your career. Idols couldn’t date, yes, but they’d survive if they were rumored to be with a man.

god forbid it was a girl.

you couldn’t ruin her career, or yours. You couldn’t damn her more, you couldn’t ruin everything, like you always did-

“I can’t,” you cried, desperately. “I’ll ruin everything, I’ll ruin you, I’d-”

“I don’t care!” she retorted. “I don’t care! I want you, and I love you. Is it that you can’t, or you won’t? You’re just scared,” she accused, rightly so.

“I am,” you admitted, pathetically. “I’m scared.”

She scoffed, clenching her fists. She turned, sharply, turning the door handle, wiping her eyes and slamming the room’s door.

You were alone.

god abandoned you, long ago.

you don’t know why it hurt more the second time.

the ninth commandment Exodus 20:1-17 You shall not covet your neighbor’s house. You shall not covet your neighbor’s wife, his ox or donkey, or anything that belongs to your neighbor.

it was a few days later, at night after an off day. You had been hiding in your room most of the day. Cowardly, yes, but the other members weren’t exactly thrilled with you. You couldn’t blame them. You were currently pretending to be asleep.

you heard aeri enter the room. She laid down, to sleep. The lights were off. It was dead silent. You turned.

“aeri,” you called. No response.

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry,” you continued, after surmising she was asleep. “I love you. I really do. I’m just so, so scared. I don’t know how to let myself love you. I feel wrong. I’m sorry. I want to. I don’t know how to love you how you deserve, I don’t even know how to love myself. Im weak and pathetic, really. If you knew the real me, I think you’d hate me,” you chuckled, without humor. “As long as you’re happy, though. I’ll be okay,” you murmured, finally.

“Im not happy, actually,” she informed, suddenly, and you felt your heart leap into your throat. “I love you, y/n. I don’t care if it’ll make everything more difficult, or if you think I’ll hate you. I won’t, by the way,”

you didn’t know how to respond. aeri did it, for you.

she got up, walked over to your bed, and made you sit up.

“so can you stop being scared? I love you, and-“

you cut her off.

you clutched her face, and kissed her, desperately. You felt tears well in your eyes, and this time, they fell. You pulled back.

“aeri, I love you, I love you so much. I love you, please forgive me. I’ll try, I swear. Please, just-”

she kissed you, again. nothing was completely fixed, yet, but you both loved each other. You were still scared, of course, but aeri had seen you at your worst, already, and was still here. so maybe, it was okay.

the tenth commandment. Genesis 1:1-Revelation 22:21 Love thy neighbor as I have loved you.

The last few weeks had been.. different.

You had started eating again, or, more frequently, was a better way to put it.

it was mostly because aeri had taken up cooking, and you could never say no to her, and it was kind of nice, really, to see her happy when you told her you liked the food.

you started to ignore the comments online, not even bothering to read them most of the time. You called your parents less, if that was even possible, and started talking with aeri and your members more.

it was nice, to have friends. To have people that you knew cared about you. It was nice to know that people didn’t view you as disgusting, or filthy, or wrong.

you had a hard time viewing yourself, differently, but if someone like aeri, someone so good, could stand you, then maybe, you weren’t as bad as your parents said you were. They were wrong about a lot, you’d come to learn.

on one of your breaks, you had found another statue.

it was of Saint Maria.

you put it next to the statue of Our Lady. You thought it fit, in a way.

you didn’t attend sunday mass, or hear it. You didn’t pray much, anymore, either. but you kept the statues as a reminder, of sorts.

aespa had been doing very well, as well, and you didn’t practice late into the night, as much, anymore.

all of you were currently deciding what takeout to order, and trying to pick a move. no one could really come to a final decision, and you watched the bickering amusedly. You got up, heading to the kitchen, filling a glass with water. Aeri appeared behind you, a sly smile on her face as she wrapped her arms around your waist. “Hey, y/n,” she hummed.

“Yeah?” you replied, turning your head. she had a smirk on her face.

“I got you somethinggg,” she grinned, tilting her head, a mischievous expression on her face, her hands clasped behind her back.

“what is it?”

she handed you a gold necklace, with rose quartz in the shape of a heart at the end, a bashful expression beginning to take place at your silence. “I didn’t know if you would like it, but it reminded me of you, so-”

“It’s perfect,” you interrupted, a genuine smile on your face. “Can you put it on for me?”

aeri removed the silver cross necklace you had worn for years, and years, placing it on the counter. She clasped the new necklace, the gold sitting pleasantly on your skin.

you turned to her, holding her face before kissing her, smiling into it. You left the chain on the counter, a smile plastered near permanently your face. “It’s beautiful, aeri, thank you,”

“Of course,” she replied, with a very self-satisfied grin on her face.

“I love you,” you added, wrapping your arms around her waist.

“I love you too, you sap,” she rolled her eyes, good naturedly, but still held you, too. “Come on, let’s go back— i’m not letting them watch a disney movie for the millionth time,”

“So what, you can watch Deadpool?” You teased, with a grin.

“Maybe,” she replied.

it was definitely certain, now, with the silver chain thrown in the garbage, easily.

you loved aeri uchinaga

and you hoped, prayed, even, that the rest of your life would be filled by aeri uchinaga.

A/N: hi guys… so I love aeri uchinaga btw. uhmm so basically the catholic version of the Ten Commandments the ninth commandment is separated into nine “don’t covet your neighbors wife” and ten “don’t covet your neighbors goods” but technically all Ten Commandments can be followed by following the one big rule which is “love thy neighbor as I have loved you” and basically symbolism forever eve breaks all nine commandments but follows the one big one which is like love everyone which means she never actually sinned she just thought she did because she is doomed yuri ☝️🤓

I LOVE TOXIC YURI AND DOOMED YURI FOREVERR pleek send asks+reqs btw I need ideas

#carps works #carpmasterlist #aespa x reader #aespa x fem reader #giselle x reader #aeri uchinaga x reader #aeri x reader #aespa giselle #aespa imagines #girl group imagines #giselle x fem reader #aeri uchinaga x fem reader #reader is the comphet religious guilt posterchild #aeri is lowk a little toxic and plays into it #reader is eve aeri is apple and giselle is the snake #in readers insane mind..#just 7k of projection #i love yuri

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knoepfl · 2 months ago

Text

Fractured Obsession

Okay I recently saw a post with this picture in it and I just thought "Fuck, this is amazing, what if...?" So I decided to take several characters and write as if those were locked in that room. Now here we are. This will be the first one of many more. If you want to see specific characters just write a comment or a request and I shall do them.^^ Right Under this will be a link to a Masterlist where I will update and announce the coming characters. So be sure to check that out once in a while! Now let's start with dear Shigaraki! Have fun! That Post was from @devotion-disorder so be sure to check them out!

Masterlist

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It started with a flicker of disbelief.

Tomura Shigaraki stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by walls plastered with pictures—dozens, maybe hundreds, all featuring you. At first glance, relief washed over him. Seeing your familiar face, the soft curve of your smile—his fixation, his obsession—so beautifully captured.

But then his sharp eyes caught the details. You weren’t alone.

There, in every photograph, was someone else. That stranger stood too close, his hand resting on your shoulder in ways Shigaraki thought were reserved only for him. In some pictures, the two of you laughed together, and in others, you leaned into the man like you belonged to him. Every frame was agony, stabbing deeper into Shigaraki’s mind.

“What…?” His voice rasped as he slowly reached out, fingertips grazing the glossy surface of one photo. “What kind of sick joke is this?”

5 minutes in: He tried to rationalize it. This had to be some kind of prank, right? Some attempt to mess with him, to twist his mind. They’re not real… They can’t be real.

But the images were so detailed—every smile, every casual touch. They were the kinds of moments that looked far too natural, far too intimate, to be faked. His stomach churned at the thought. Did you… No, it wasn’t possible. You wouldn’t betray me… would you?

He shook his head, trying to steady himself. “This is stupid,” he muttered under his breath, pacing the room. But doubt clung to him, tightening like a noose.

1 hour in: The rationalizations were gone now, replaced with gnawing paranoia.

Shigaraki stared hard at the photos, tracing each of your smiles, memorizing the way your hand lingered on the stranger’s arm. It was driving him mad. “Did you know about this?” he whispered, running his tongue over his dry lips, his mind spiraling. “Were you lying to me the whole time?”

His nails dug into his scalp, tugging at his hair in frustration. The edges of his mind blurred, thoughts turning jagged. “No. No. No.” He repeated the words like a mantra, but they did little to stop the images from burning into his brain.

What was worse—the idea that these moments were real, or that someone had gone to such lengths to fake them? Either way, the result was the same: you weren’t his anymore.

His breath quickened, chest rising and falling as if the walls were closing in. “I don’t like this,” he muttered, voice cracking. “I hate this.”

3 hours in: He was unraveling.

His hands trembled as he clawed at his throat, gasping for air that wouldn’t come. The thought of you with someone else was poison, flooding his veins, suffocating him. Every photo seemed to scream betrayal, and the faces—the laughter—blurred together into a haunting mockery.

“I can’t… I can’t breathe,” he choked, collapsing onto his knees. His fingernails scraped at the floor, leaving trails of red where his skin split open, but the pain barely registered. He could only think about you—your smile, your scent, your warmth—and how it now belonged to someone else.

Each thought was a knife twisting deeper into his chest. “Why would you do this to me?” he whispered, voice hollow with anguish. “Why?”

6+ hours in: By now, reason had long since abandoned him. His mind was a storm, a swirling mess of obsession and fury, of love and hatred. He sat slumped in the corner, hands clutching his face as he rocked back and forth. His nails dragged across his skin, leaving angry red streaks in their wake.

“It’s not real… It’s not real…” he whispered over and over again, but the words rang hollow. The photos were everywhere—on the walls, the floor, even the ceiling—and there was no escaping them.

In his mind, the stranger became an enemy—a threat to everything he had built in his obsession with you.

“They won’t have you,” Shigaraki muttered, his voice low and dangerous. His red-rimmed eyes glinted with manic determination as he dragged himself to his feet. “I won’t let them.”

Even if it meant destroying everything—even if it meant tearing apart the world itself—he would make sure no one ever took you from him. Not in this life, not in any other.

The Aftermath: When you finally returned to the room where Shigaraki had been kept, the sight that greeted you was… horrifying. The walls were scratched, the photos crumpled and torn, but his eyes—oh, his eyes—glowed with a madness that chilled you to the bone.

“You’re back,” he whispered, his lips curving into a smile far too wide to be sane. He staggered toward you, as if every step was a struggle, but his hands reached out eagerly.

“You won’t leave me again… right?” His voice was a mix of desperation and obsession, a promise and a threat.

And in that moment, you realized: there was no escaping him now. You belonged to him, in his mind, and he would stop at nothing to make sure you stayed that way.

Forever.

---

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lostinforestbound · 8 months ago

Text

And for my grand finale of my Rolan brainrot thoughts, the moment you probably have all been waiting for:

Rolan NSFW Headcanons

MDNI

Disclaimer: If you think differently than what I write here that is totally okay! These are just opinions!

First and foremost, I believe he's a switch (or a Verse)! It can also depend on his partners preference, but he doesn't mind doing one or the other. I will say that he can have trouble bottoming/submitting super early on because it can be a very vulnerable experience, and he may get overwhelmed quickly. Will he admit that? Of course not, he's too prideful and his communication skills are horrid.

There's a lot of talk about with whether Rolan is a virgin or had a couple flings in the past during his time in Elturel, and I like either one! The most important thing is that he's definitely inexperienced. He doesn't know what he likes or dislikes yet, and would like to explore that with his partner once he's comfortable.

Bite him! Mark him! Give him hickies! Gods he goes absolutely insane for them, especially when he's on the receiving end. He would prefer all of it to be under the collar, but one of his favorite places is that tender spot right between the jaw and ear. It's one of the many ways to get him mewling. He'll definitely bite back if his partner likes it.

I would say he's pretty vanilla in general, but is open to trying something new if his partner is kinkier. It's something he would have to work up to as it can be intimidating, but with enough reassurances he's willing to try anything once. Besides, if he doesn't like it, he's pretty vocal about it and they know not to try again.

He wouldn't like being heavily restrained or gagged (at least at the same time), it feels too demeaning for him. I think he would like the idea of him being blindfolded, but would request that his partner keeps a hand on him at all times so he knows that they're still there. This would be a once in a while type of deal as it can get overwhelming quickly.

Speaking of dislikes: deliberate pain is a turnoff. Anything that would intentionally hurt he's not into. So things like whipping, harsh choking, smacking around, or any kind of pain infliction, he can't do it whether it's giving or receiving. (But he would still be into marking like I said earlier!) I don't think he would outright dislike degradation but those kinds of nights are on the rare side.

Now for the likes: Praise!!! For the love of the gods, praise this man, he loves it and his cock throbs when he's receiving it. It's the best way to get him worked up as well. Ordering him around is also good, he's very obedient and an incredible listener.

The act of intimacy is private for him, so public sex is definitely a big no. He wants everything to be private and only with his partner. He doesn't want to be anxious about getting caught while in the middle of things, it ruins his mood. Besides, his partner wants to keep his whines, moans, whimpers, and begging to themselves. They're such pretty sounds.

He tends to feel guilty whenever he's not in the mood or has to stop anything they're doing, it's instinctive and frustrates him. He knows he has no reason to feel guilty, his partner reassures that all the time, but sometimes that guilt crawls into the back of his mind. His depression and panic disorder cause him to have low libido, so he's not in the mood for intimacy most days. Though he's still just as satisfied with purely focusing on his partner and not himself. (When he works on himself and finds solutions to help him with his mental health, his libido increases!)

King of Oral Sex. After learning about his partner's body and practicing for a few sessions, he's incredible at it. It ends up being one of his favorite things to do, some nights he evens pleads for it, begging to taste them.

The best way his partner will find out he's horny is the way the base of his tail arches upward. That tail has a mind of its own, and he can't quite control it. He uses his tail a lot, using to either hold their thighs apart or wrap around their torso desperately. (Or if his partner is a tiefling/dragonborn, wrap around their tail!)

His more sensitive areas besides his neck are the insides of thighs and his pelvic area. If you play with his chest enough though, that becomes sensitive as well.

He definitely starts bringing in magic bedroom as soon as he gets comfortable. Imagine what they could do with some of these spells! Mage hand (or multiple of them), disguise self, entangle, maybe fly as well...ah, telekinesis is also a good one! How about enhance ability? If either him or his partner can't use words, they'll both gently cast detect thoughts to check in.

Aftercare is extremely important to him, whether he's giving or receiving it. He and his partner switch depending on who wants to do it that night. Though being on the receiving end of it, it makes him feel so loved. It won't take long for him to start purring, falling asleep in their arms. When it's his turn, he takes his time and is incredibly tender. He'll get anything they ask for and more.

(And we're done! I hope you enjoyed!!! I had a lot of fun making these and I hope to make more in the future when I reopen requests! If you have your own headcanons, please share!)

#forest-writes #rolan #bg3 rolan #holy rolan empire #rolan bg3 #rolan x tav #rolan x reader #rolanites #rolan nation #rolan brainrot

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tmwcs · 8 months ago

Note

MIND GOING BRR AT THINKING ABOUT HOW SEX WITH HUMAN HEESEUNG AND IMMORTAL YN WENT,did she....act like a succubus or was as clueless as the mortal yn

And it went down exactly like this….

Warnings: Smuuuuuuuuuuuut central here. Y/n gets deceived, y/n is a bad girl, y/n gets it, heeleads swap y/n’s, alternate universe, mention of the word ‘r*pe*, devil baby eating people, unprotected smut, non-con/sub-con smut, heavy noncon smut vibes, time space continuum, time space travel, different worlds, kind of a marvel vs dc vibe. This is an aftermath from the Drabble “Somewhere in Time”.

You stood firm, crossing your arms while doing your best to remain ignorant. Knowing that this wouldn’t end well for you, you braced for impact, expecting for him to grab you from behind and twirl you around. There had been a handful of times that you and Helel had little arguments, but with him being the devil and ultimate powerful, many would deem it pointless to even try and throw a fit. Perhaps you were just too damn stubborn and prideful to submit, even knowing that the white flag would be waved in a moment….he always had his ways.

Facing the side of the mortal realm, you waited for the moment where he’d take you to bed by force. It would be a repeated act where you’re on the bed underneath him, taking in the rape as it slowly progresses to submission. As per usual, he’ll get you to the point where you’ll stop fighting, and beg for more until you can’t take it any longer, in which he’ll have you back to screaming for mercy. What a sicko. But, he IS the devil after all…and you’re married to him.

It all started after you returned home with him. You thought all would be well since a spark arose within you after Helel and his alternate souls rescued you and your own counterparts. For so many years since he’s taken you, you fought physically and emotionally against the idea of accepting his love. But your pride grew weak and you started to fall for him….no doubt it was a result of a disorder enforced by his own method. Anyone suppressed by a kind captor will eventually fall for them.

Upon the return to Hell from the most recent endeavor, you grew angry in seeing baby Helan sitting there, tearing the pieces of mortal flesh. You stood in total shock as the toddler tone of “mommy! Mommy!” Came out from those bloody lips. The red stain smeared his face and clothes as he sat there reaching up, closing and opening his fingers enthusiastically, waiting for you to pick him up. There were bits and pieces of limbs, fingers, organs and all sorts of fleshy parts you refused to look at. That innocent smile on your child’s face was a facade; behind it was pure malice and grotesque evil, enabled by his father.

“W-what-…!!” You stutter as you trembled, falling to your knees as your baby rushed over and hugged you. “Mommy! I missed you!”

Your eyes remained wide in horror while your hands stayed glued to the stone floor, you couldn’t think or react, not even to return the embrace of your own child.

Later that evening, you spoke to Helel about it begrudgingly.

“I thought we had an agreement that I don’t want Helan to do things like that.”

Helel scoffed as he finished sipping on his wine glass. A faint gulp slides down as he sides-eye you. Placing it down on the table, he reaches and began loosening his collard tie, smirking an adoring look over to you. “It was hardly an agreement. You mentioned your complaints and I listened.”

Here we go. This is the part that of which you hate. “Darling, he’s a growing boy…and not like the ones from where you originated. He needs flesh and blood in order to grow. Once he reaches a mature age he will be able to live without ever requiring the need for sustenance.”

You shook your head. “No…no I don’t like that. There has to be another way. I don’t want my baby to do monstrous things.”

He looks you over. “You? The Goddess of Hell—“

“HE’S MY BABY TOO!” You yelled, fierce anger in your eyes as you sphered them in his direction. His affectionate smile slowly starts to fade and his hand drops as he releases his tie. With a raise of a brow, his eyes wide and you knew, you crossed the line. A

He slowly walks over calmly, surprisingly. Whenever he was upset with you he’d immediately became forceful, teaching you a lesson while reiterating how much he loved you, and that it was all for your own good. But this time, he truly was pissed off. Not that you were justifying him, but a slight bit of you could understand his position. Your son is the offspring of the Devil after all, and the latter had just went through Heaven and Hell, visiting multiple worlds in gathering a league to save you and all versions of you. In his eyes, you were coming off as ungrateful.

His silence was more frightening than anything. He stood, watching as you tucked your chin and stared at the ground in shame. He peers down his outstanding height and just looks at you….sternly, with rage. What was more unusual was that he merely took a piece of your hair, and rubbed it together. He was being so tender and gentle, despite his eyes violating you through every hole in your body.

He sighs. “Bad girl.” Was all he barely whispers with a slight deep tone.

You shook as the shive stabbed your spine. You were going to get it this time.

“I-I—“ he cuts you off as he places a finger over your lips. “Shhhh…don’t fucking speak.”

You trembled. “Go to the bed, and stay there.”

You did as he demanded and tucked yourself away under the velvet bedding. He was being odd and handing this situation differently. God, it scared you so much.

He quietly leaves the room. You knew better than to try and follow or leave. The man has eyes and ears everywhere; it is Hell after all.

You were so scared that the fear took an emotional strain out of you, exhausting you. You drifted off to sleep immediately, unaware of what was coming.

………

“Geez, what is it now? Why are you here?”

“Ah—collecting the savoring morsels for your lovely girl, are we?”

“Isn’t there a lovely girl of your own that you should be feeding?”

“Precisely why I’m here.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Helel grins as he converses with his identical alternate.

“Be truthful. You love her.”

“Duh.”

“You love her so much that you also adore ALL flavors of her…don’t you?”

……

Heeseung stares sternly at his Devil counterpart. “Is there a point to this?”

“I am saying, o’hostile college-pretty-boy, that you and I are same. We love and kill for our brides. We are the only ones that love and care for them…all of them.” Helel crosses his arms. “You’re not the type to share…but is it really sharing if it is…you? “

Heeseung’s eyes sparked in rage, yet the devil continued. “And don’t you…want to experience your pretty baby in a different light?”

His counterpart calmed down. There wasn’t any denying the fact that the moment he saw you…other versions of you, his mind went wild. For you, he lives and breathes; it was blissful to have you in his life…what could be better than to have multiple duplicates of his precious girl?

“If we do this, just know that I’m not going to be restricted by any means. If I’m fucking my girl, regardless if it’s an alternate variant of her, I’m going all in.”

Helel smirks. “Relatable.”

“I can take who’s next.” The cashier spoke as the two remained facing each other. Both flaring a deadly smile.

……………..

You woke up, still in bed. Helel didn’t come back? Was he really that angry? What was he doing? This was too terrifying to deal with. You can’t believe you were saying this but in a sense, you’d wish he’d just rape and fuck your brains out already. At least you’d find some pleasure and resolvement from it….but this…this sense of unknowing his intentions was too dangerous. He always says he’d love you too much but is there a line that even YOU cannot cross with the Devil?

The e door gently opens, and you hear the foot steps walk around the large platform bed frame. “Helel?”

“Mmhmm.”

He walks over, and doesn’t say anything more as he moves his fingers, signaling for you to crawl closer towards the edge of the bed. He had a soft smirk. It was strange, though. His aura seemed off-putting. Your senses could feel there was something different but you couldn’t put your finger on it. Abiding by his non-verbal signal, you crawl over on all fours and allowed those two fingers to caress your chin. “You’ve been a bad girl?”

He spoke in an inquired tone. You assumed it was him being antagonizing in his demeanor, since you recognized the signs of sexual tension rising. “Yes…I’ve been bad..” you softly responded. You knew what he wanted to hear. You knew that he intended to punish you.

“Well, let’s do something about that.” He sighs out, leaning down as he grips your jawline. His elegant attire of black satin and white chiffon just made him so classy and irresistible. He kisses you, and to your surprise it was warm and tender. “Take it off.” He whispers, staring into your eye with an aloof but soft expression.

You began shedding off your undergarments, leaving just the garter and thigh high, damask stockings in place. “Good. Now take mine off.”

You undress him, beginning with his tie. Once you got the undershirt unbuttoned, he slowly pushed your head down, dragging your cheek against his entire abdominal muscles. You took the hint and undid his trousers, reaching to release his throbbing muscle; and it was throbbing. It was breathing to you.

“Put that bad little mouth on it.”

His voice was smooth and airy. Deep and dark. God, this man was so fine. Why the hell did you yell at him in the first place?

You lavished his cock with your saliva. Smoothing the moisture up and down, you dragged your tongue and traced every bit of vein and inch of it. He grits his teeth, enjoying this so much more than you expected. He slaps his hands on your arms as he flings you on your back. You yelped from the sudden change of motion as the level of force you recognized started to appear. Here it is…here is what you were both, dreading and looking forward to.

“H-Helel…” you whispered. “Wrong name baby.” He responded back as he kisses you, shoving his hand in between your thighs. You gasped out into his mouth. “Heeseung! Heeseung!”

It wasn’t odd to you, after all he went by both his original title and the name he adopted, the one that his brothers often called him by. Normally, however, during his deliverance of his punishments, he’d force you to call him Helel. But it seems he may have cooled off and wasn’t as angry anymore.

“Heeseung!” You gasped as he ravished your breasts with his tongue. This was all enough to get you ovulating, you swore to yourself.

“Come here…bad girl.”

You nod as he started to incorporate more force, aggression, and roughness as he lines himself to your center, all while placing one thigh on his hip as the other rested against his bicep, extending the leg up and over his shoulder. You were left wide open for him to take you…

He slides in, slowly. Sloooooooowly.

“Ah!! Heeseung!” You yell, gasping for air as your pants increases. He makes you watch as he continues to go in…slowly. When he finally was all in, he grinds his balls against your taint as he leans forward and fully hovers above you. “Let’s fuck the bad out and full you with some goodness.”

You furrow your brows in worry as you await for the ultimate pounding to occur. Fuck he is going to ruin you.

He slides out, the relief of the tight fullness dissipates as he gets all but the tip out, when suddenly….

“AHHH!!! FFFFUCK!!! SSSSTOP!!”

You can’t recall him ever going this brutal, it was as if he was starving for you. The only time you ever felt him this needy was when he took you for the first time. Thrusting, pounding, and reaching depths of your interior that was enough to make you drool and pass out, you lay mercilessly and took every bit of his thunder.

“Yeah? Fucking beg! Bad fucking girl, come on! Beg!” He grits out as the beads of sweat start to form on every inch of his smooth skin.

Screaming, crying, and panting, he gets you dumb-fucked until finally you reach that peak that took time to build up. Through all the pain and rough aggression, it finally pushed through and to his pleasure, you begged for him to keep going.

“Oh please! Please…don’t stop! Don’t stop! Don’t stop…fffffucking me!”

He smirks as he picks up the pace and goes faster. Your body bounces rigorously against the bedsheets as he slams into you. What a delightful scene it was to see you helplessly taking his cock and shifting in wild motion as he pumps you repeatedly. In fact, you were bouncing so much from the impact, he had to hold you by the neck to hold you steady as he enhanced momentum.

Gritting his teeth and flinging his head back, you watched as his naked body knelt before twitches while he releases. “Fuck!”

He pulsates and fills you, and for a moment the softness that came after had you thinking he was done…but he wasn’t.

The tightening of his grip around your neck said otherwise. His hips regain the thrusting motion, starting off slow and picking up pace. “Heeseung…no!” You gasp as the pleasure remained but the pain was starting to sting.

For who knows how long, he pelted you over and over again. Words in between of “let me enjoy this…” were harshly whispered into your ear as he changed positions and flipped you over, turn you onto your side, and even had you on top, while he still carried the rhythm and controlled the movements. Fucked left, right, up, and down, you realized that he was indeed punishing you as he went beyond in delivering overstimulation and pain.

By the time he released for the sixth or seventh time, you begged with barely any air in your lungs. “N-no more….p-ppplease….”

Your body was lifeless as he catches his breath. “Fuck that was better than I imagined.”

He quickly dresses, still somewhat sweaty which was surprising, considering he never really eluded such human traits. “I…I’m sssso-rry…sorry…”

You barely got it out of you but you managed to apologize, hoping that he would allow you to rest fully tonight. “Aw baby.” He whispers as he leans in and kisses you. His hand grabs hold of yours and he interlocks your fingers together as he massages the back of your palm. Breaking the kiss, he tells you…

“I’ll let him know. Wish I could stay, but I gotta get back to you.”

What?……

You didn’t have the energy to respond, but it suddenly clicked. The change in his aura, the sweat beads, and the way he ferociously fucked you with starved hunger in his eyes.

“H-Heeseung…” you gently spoke out as you recognized the figure from the incident. The one who belonged to the youngest version of your being. You watched as he smirked. “Wrong name baby.”

You looked him from the side as your hair is messily plastered to your face, and your body drained. You couldn’t even form the confused expression in your eye as he spoke his words. He smiled and there, you witnessed one inhuman trait among this man. His eyes darken, his grin becomes sinisterly devious as he bites down his bottom lip. “Be sure to name one of the kids after me. Little Ethan has a ring to it.”

He kisses you once more and takes his leave.

Moments later, he comes in…Helel. With an offensive smirk, he notes your exhausted body. You barely could move as you moaned, struggling to regain composure. Standing side the bed, you heard the disheveling spill of cloth as he sheds off his attire, piece by piece. You felt his hand grab you waist as he turns you fully over to your back as he crawls on top of you. Gently wiping the pieces of sweaty stands from your forehead, he admires your face as his fingers tap against your cheek and the corner of your lips.

Oh no….

“Now, let’s hear that apology, hm?” He smirks against your ear as he lines the tip to your worn and beaten entrance. “Let’s hear how sorry you REEEEEAALLY are.”

“Nnngh….nnmph!” You moaned as you struggled to gain a breath in, he’s pushing into you. Your legs begin to shiver and your spine jolts from the hypersensitivity levels that radiates from your core. “Now that I had some time to blow off some steam, I figure this is more than an appropriate time for you to show daddy how you’re going to make up for your mistake, hm? Let’s turn you back into a good girl again.”

The worst and best night of your entire afterlife. Two of the same men pile-driving you. So this is why he was so calm earlier…what a devious man he was. You knew you had already lost, and you were about to lose even more. Since that’s the case, you thought it be fitting to get a word in, knowing he wasn’t going to go easy, despite his demeanor.

“Ethan…”

“Pardon?” He widened his eyes as he lifts a stern brow. “N-next child….i brrrring in…name is…E-Ethan…”

He smirks. “Ah…Ethan. Right.” Kissing you, he pulls away as he pinches your chin. “If it’s a bunch of heathens you want, no problem. I can give you loads of them.” He snaps his fingers.

You saw them walk in. The sight put your breath on hold and caused your eyes to sting in despair as you watched each fine, nude form stand around the bed, stroking their cocks at the sight of you. “How about a godly descendant, a pair of twins, and a nations most wanted? Sounds like you’re eager to be a mommy again, and you know I aim to please you…darling.”

With a dark chuckle, he spoke as the others closed in.

“Let’s fuck her boys.”

No…NO! NOO!!!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

- Fin

Taglist: @enheene , aiden2001 , @heeseung-min , @lathan1510 , @rayofsunshineeee , @hoyeonheeseung , @rayofsunshineeee , @yohanabanana , @sunoosrightbuttcheek , @jaeneohee , @icydawon , @silcry , @iamliacamila , @nikstrange , @enheene ; @nuriicata , @en-happiness @lisaaannna @en-geneisaxx

#heeseung x reader #heeseung scenarios #heeseung smut #enha x reader #enhypen hard hours #heeseung hard hours #heeseung hard thoughts #heeseung fanfic #enhypen smut #enha heeseung

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ssturniolo · 6 months ago

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hii first ilysm and your stories :))

so I have an idea with Chris and the reader (they are dating in the story), the reader has problems eating but doesn't want to show it to anyone so as not to worry them so she lies about it. saying that she has already eaten or that she is not hungry, one day while she was at the triplets' house she went down to Chris's room to change but she did not know that Chris had followed her and when she takes off her sweater and her jogging pants, chris is very worried when he sees that the reader has lost a lot of his weight. I know that it's not an easy subject so you don't have to write it, it's just a proposal

Unconditionally loved

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 - Chris sturniolo x fem!reader

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶 - request <3 (it’s a little different I hope that’s ok)

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 - eating disorder, use of y/n, crying, I think that’s it??

I follow the delicious scent of my favorite food down to the triplets kitchen, smiling to myself as I watch Chris and Nick put it into 4 separate bowls.

“Hi baby” Chris smiles, trotting over to wrap me in a hug. “I made us chicken Alfredo,” he says proudly.

“Don’t worry it’s edible, all he did was boil the water,” Nick smirks, handing me one of the bowls.

I laugh lightly as Chris rolls his eyes, walking with me to the couch. I set the bowl onto the coffee table, eyeing it longingly. It smells heavenly but I had a full banana this morning so even though my stomach is rumbling, and every part of my body wants this food, I know I can’t.

Instead, I snuggle into Chris’s side, watching him enjoy his meal.

***

I wake up still on the couch, Chris asleep at my side. I quietly stand, taking my now-cold bowl of chicken Alfredo to the kitchen, dumping it into the garbage before setting the bowl in the sink.

I return to the living room as Chris stirs awake.

“Hey baby” he smiles, opening his arms for me to crawl into. I do so, nuzzling my nose into his neck as he runs a hand through my hair.

“Wanna go back to the bed? I don’t wanna sleep on the couch tonight,” Chris says after a few moments of silence.

“Mhm” I hum into his neck, waiting a few seconds before pushing myself off of him.

“I’m gonna put my bowl away then meet you there, ok?” Chris says as he turns the tv off.

“Alright.”

I make my way to his room, leaving his door cracked open behind me. I pull out a pair of pj pants and a hoodie from Chris’s closet, laying them out on the bed. I remove my sweatshirt, not noticing Chris enter the room.

“Y/n?” Chris’s concerned voice cuts through the air as I spin around. His eyes are trained on my ribs that are poking through my skin at an unhealthy level. The way my stomach is less than half its original size is easy to hide under baggy clothes but under his hot gaze, I feel like shriveling up and dying. He wasn’t supposed to see me like this.

“Baby are you ok?” Chris takes a step closer as I take a step back, my eyes brimming with tears.

“I saw your food in the trash. Have you not been eating?” He questions again, knowing the answer.

I say nothing, burying my face in my hands as I erupt into sobs. Chris rushes over, to which I do not step away this time. He brings us to sit at the edge of his bed, cradling my shaking body in his warm embrace.

“It’s ok… you’re ok” he whispers sweet nothings into my ear until I’ve calmed down enough to form coherent sentences.

“I-I lied a lot about already eating or not being hungry. I’m so sorry” I sniffle, my cheek pressed against Chris’s tear-soaked t-shirt.

“No need to be sorry my love. I just wish you would have talked to me before it became a severe issue.” Chris replies, rubbing my back soothingly.

“I just didn’t want to worry you,” I mumble, realizing how stupid that now sounds.

“I know I know. All that matters is getting you the help you need now, yeah?”

I just nod my head against him, blinking away fresh tears. I know I need the help I just never knew how to go about it. Especially since no one but me knew about my bad eating habits.

Chris lifts my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes.

“I’m scared Chris.”

“And I’m going to be here with you through it all. I always will. We face problems together from now on, ok?”

“Ok.” I repeat, giving him my word.

Taking this on is so much less scary with Chris at my side, loving me unconditionally.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Unfortunately, eating disorders are increasingly common amongst people, particularly younger females. If ANY of you need to talk, my dms are always open. I love you guys <3

XOXO - Zoe

Taglist ⬇️

@dwntwn-strnlo @mbbsgf @gabbylovesreading @0-r-a-y-0 @sturn3g1rl @lvrsparadise @taylorssfilmsss @emssturniolo @ilovemattsturn @mattestrella @itsaaliyah2 @thetriplets3 @urfavstromboli

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h5eavenly · 8 months ago

Text

Carousel┃H.HJ SMAU

Fifty-Three - I was made for loving you.

warnings: mentions of weight, disordered eating. wc; 4.9k

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Hyunjin doesn’t get to think about how he ends up in front of your door, doesn’t get to comprehend the impulsive thoughts invading his mind. Not when he’s only known himself as a follower, so he follows, he follows where he knows you’ll be and maybe that’s why when he’s faced with his reality, he’s only capable of blaming you. For the ache in his heart, the fire he feels running alongside his blood and the recklessness coated by love that douses his actions. He blames you for everything even when his dignity curls by the corner and it disdained him. Weak, was it his lack of power or his faux hatred for you?

He tells himself he should leave, the small remaining bone of logical thinking tells him, screams that this is a bad idea, and he wholeheartedly agrees but his legs won’t listen to him, stubbornly glued to the floors of your familiar doorway in desperation and whispers of ‘I love you’s that had fallen from your lips right into his heart on this same spot. He sees it all, the phantoms of you kissing and then you’re smiling at him with your honey-soaked lips, dripping with unyielding affection that only ever manifests for him, in front of him as you tell him.

“I’ll wait for you,” and he feels like crying, or maybe he feels more like dying. He’ll ask you to bury him with your hands, right next to your dead flowers of love. Perhaps only then you’ll be able to witness the pain your name leaves on his heart, its scratched and blue. but he still misses you and it’s nothing less than pathetic. Mundane madness.

If he’s not allowed to die then he wishes he could break free of this leftover self-respect and allow himself to break down at your door, ugly and valiant and filled with piteous desires that you’ll take him. Right into your arms and through the gates of your so-called heaven. If he’s not allowed to die then he’ll kneel and beg you for an escape from you, any sort of drug that will help him numb you. maybe if you allow him to become one with you, mesh himself with your bones and your blood he will feel nothing but love for you, maybe if you drive him further into his awaited craziness this will all be okay, and he won’t have to see you whenever he closes his eyes.

It’s a maybe followed by another maybe and maybe and he feels nothing but overflowing pain the longer he stands here.

You’re nothing but hell so how come his heart has grown to be a masochist? yearning to be burned by your gentle wandering touches.

He wonders if his masculine pride is getting secondhand embarrassment of his soul crushing devotion for you. However, his thoughts are stuck on that point when you open the door as if somehow you knew he’s waiting outside. You’re shrouded in one of his old hoodies, one that he forgot behind when he packed his stuff and didn’t have the courage to face you once more to ask for it back. Or perhaps it’s simply a purposeful blunder to leave you with a piece of him in hopes it will haunt you.

His gaze is somber as they study the dark circles under your eyes and the red rimming your once glowing eyes, evidence of the tears that you shed not long ago. You’re pale, almost sickeningly so, fragile, and thinner than he had ever seen you. a part of him is almost glad he’s not the only one withering away with your dying garden of love.

“Hyunjin...” you’re the first to speak, in opposite to his, your gaze is surprised mimicking your tone. He doesn’t look like himself, but rather a ghost of what was once him. He’s the same man who crawled into your bed at night, the same man who littered kisses down your neck yet it’s not him. It was an ebbing version of him, one that had similar darkening circles to yours, exhaustion that had his back curved in a slouch, evidence of yet another crime you committed, a knife plunged into his heart and his blood on your hands. It makes you sick to your stomach.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, softly and tentatively.

And he closes his eyes at your voice, hoping it’s enough to cover the ears of his heart. To block out the reminiscences of you and how your voice manages to pull him right into the field of you he tries so hard to run away from. But everything leads back to you, in hindsight he’s sure you’ve made your mark on his fate like a plague. He has no choice but to be an extension of you, roaming around in hopes to be reunited with his home one day.

When he opens them, pain torrents from your eyes and he feels like glass, not like the expensive little statues you have around your apartment, but rather cheap, debilitated and easily broken with the delicacy you’re covered in when you call his name. No one will ever call him this softly, no one could ever be as cruel as you.

“Is it true?” he asks, ignoring your question because there’s no logical answer he could give. There’s no answer that won’t break him.

“w-what is true?” you ask. Voice weakened by your quiet nerves.

“Is it true that your dad is setting you up on dates and you agreed?” The frost in his voice melts as he spits each syllable out, replaced with unjust anger.

“Who told you this?”

“Does it fucking matter? Just tell me if it’s true or not.”

You grow quiet, your silence only plunges the knife further into his heart and the way your eyebrows furrow in a way too familiar conquest. Your futile attempts to string together a sentence is like grey clouds collecting above his head, leaving him foggy and stormy. So, he scoffs.

“So, was it all lies again? Your whole speech about how you’ll never give up on us how you’ll keep trying. It all meant nothing to you, didn’t it?”

“you’re being unfair Hyunjin.” You shake your head, a fresh set of tears collects in your waterline, and it only angers him, pushes him further into the abyss. He’s overwhelmed with the emotions raining on him “Am I supposed to sit still and wait for you forever when you’ve made it so clear you don’t want me anymore?” It’s all lies because deep down you know you will wait for him forever if you need to.

Sadness, anger, disappointment, it’s an endless symphony of terror that has him locked up and the key is in your hands. You’re refusing to let up and he refuses to come undone before your eyes.

“Do you want to know what’s fucking unfair Y/N?” you look away, the pain taking claim in his iris is enough to have you choking, it’s excruciating so your eyes run away but then he’s all up in your face, ruthless fingers gripping your jaw as he forces you to face him.

“Placing bets on people’s heart as if they’re puppets and not human beings,” his breath hits your cheek like little knifes and each one scratches with ferocious hatred “lying to me while looking me straight in the eye, playing games behind my back when I asked you time and time if there’s anything I should know about.” You sob, overwhelmingly ashamed and unable to keep eye contact with him, you try to break away from his grip, try to look away from his fiery gaze but it’s all useless when it only tightens around your jaw.

“Breaking my heart again when I so willingly handed it to you with so much trust in you.” your heart falls apart at the way his words weakened towards the end “That’s fucking unfair.” His anger is displaced by exasperation that has you shaking.

“I’m sorry Hyunjin. I want to explain myself I promise there’s so much more to everything than you think.”

He laughs, humorless and cruel. Your words remain woefully inadequate, and it only has him dwindling further into his disappointment and he grows to feel idiotic, for coming here, for thinking he has any sort of authority over your actions. He’s only driven by his anger and longing for you, and he resents it. His grip on you loosens, and when he goes to take a step back, he’s stopped by your fingers circling his wrist.

“I never meant to break your heart, jinnie.”

“But you fucking did Y/N! it doesn’t matter what you meant to do, don’t you get it?” his tone rises, breaking towards the end and rendering you the same kind of broken.

“Okay yes, I did! I wish I didn’t, but I did. I get that but you can’t keep blaming me when you won’t even listen to me.”

“This is fucking stupid.” he chuckles incredulously, running his hand through his hair and then he’s shaking his head in disbelief.

“Forget it.” He spits then swivels away from you, abandoning his heart alongside his dignity.

But he doesn’t get to make it far, doesn’t even take the first step down because the sound of your body breaking down and your knees hitting the ground is enough for him to look back at you in panic, the vision of your limbs weakened on the floor is enough to have him rushing by your side.

“Y/N.” his arms are around your shoulders; your labored breaths have his eyes widening in worry.

“what’s wrong?” he questions; eyes raking through your features anxiously.

Your eyes have gone hazy, pupils dilating as they lose focus and it sets his soul ablaze with crippling fear, with a trembling absentminded cradle of your cheek “baby, can you hear me? come on focus on me.” He’s tapping your cheek gently, slightly panicking as his other hand rubs soothing circles on your back and you blink at him, regaining some of your fumbled mind.

“I-I’m sorry I just felt a little dizzy and my head was spinning-“

“Shh it’s okay.” He lets out a breath of relief when your eyes focus on him, blinking rapidly “when was the last time you eaten?” his voice is gentle in complete contrast to how he was speaking moments ago, breaking through the collecting clouds in your eyes. He pulls you to his chest, gathers you in his arms and despite the aching in your body you could only think about the familiar scent of peaches invading your senses. The comfort of his warm embrace has you clutching onto his shirt desperately.

“I don’t remember.” You murmur, you feel cold sweat collecting at the roots of your hair, your limbs growing weaker as if they weigh nothing.

“For fuck’s sake Y/N.” his warm palm that rests at your forehead brings a comfort akin to fresh air that you desperately breath in “can you stand up?” Despite the bells ringing in your ears, you still manage to nod, or at least you think you do even if you’re not sure with how lightheaded you’re feeling.

When he helps you stand up your words are meaningless as your body slumps into him, weak and drained of energy, without saying a word he takes it upon himself to carry you inside. The alarming lightness of your body as if carrying a singular feather has his heart tightening. You’re somewhat present yet not fully there when you press your face into his neck, your tears sting against his skin, burn him and he’s sure you’ll only leave another mark of yours on his body.

“I’m sorry,” you kept crying into his neck and Hyunjin doesn’t know what to say, not when his heart hammers against his ribcage begging for an escape from you, you who once was his sanctuary. Who is he supposed to find solace in when the cause of his heartbreak lies between his arms?

You don’t remember much of what happens after, you only remember flowing out of consciousness when he placed you on your couch, the familiar cushions are comfortable against your body, his presence brings ease to your loud mind and it quietens it for mere minutes that are enough for you to fall asleep, for the first time in a while. You can’t recall It perfectly, but you swear you felt Hyunjin’s colder hand in yours.

When you wake up it’s 9 p.m. The scent of cooked soup, specifically chicken soup erupts from your kitchen, filling the space of your small apartment and has your stomach growling in hunger. A dull ache has latched itself on your every muscle as if you’re a corpse who just gotten back to life. You run a tired hand over your face, a headache starts to form as soon as you sit up.

“you’re awake,” Hyunjin’s voice startles you, have not noticed him standing there. Eyes locked on you and you only nod in response. Your throat is parched.

“Water?” he asks when he notices your lingering silence and you nod, averting your eyes as he disappears back into your kitchen. When he’s back there’s a tray between his hands, carrying a glass of water and a bowl of what you assume to be the soup you smelled.

“Here.” He mumbles, a tinge of awkwardness clings to his fingers as he brings the glass to your lips, your eye contact has you feeling lightheaded for reasons other than the lack of food in your system. His thumb rubs circles on the insides of your thigh as you sip diligently. His touch has you almost doubling over for more, your longing expands and takes space over every cell in your body.

You miss him more than you miss breathing in air.

“Thank you,” you finally reply as he places the now empty glass back on the table, he doesn’t say anything back and instead pushes the tray of food towards you “eat.” His tone is banal, he avoids the longing in your glance, yet this thumb remains in its place, spreading the warmth of something you know is counterfeit. It has your throat tightening.

“How did you make this?” you ask as you swirl your spoon around the bowl.

“I had to go grocery shopping. Why is your house so empty Y/N?” He’s not looking for an answer so you don’t give him one. Instead, you busy yourself with eating as silence settles in between you two.

Hyunjin keeps his gaze locked on the dark screen of your tv and you force yourself to find a domestic alleviation in the act. In the quietness that is nowhere near as comfortable as it once was, in the rigid lines of harshness on his face. It’s all a charade, you’re aware of it but you pretend that there’s still love in these walls, in the couch you both are sitting on and it’s not filled with disappointment as it witness the growing distant between you two.

“Good?” he asks when you set your half empty bowl back on the tray.

“mhm,” you murmur, your eyes studying the side of his face and the longer he refuses to look at you the deeper your agony settles into your soul, a remorse nestled into the bit of your stomach and you could see it all when your hands reaches for his slender fingers and his body tenses as if your bodies didn’t belong together.

The walls of your living room laugh in mockery when your fingers squeeze his, lucky enough to witness this pitiful parody of what was real once. What you killed. But you never got time for it, instead Hyunjin is somehow sitting next to you, filled with quiet resentment for himself and then for you and thirdly for this foolish thing we like to call love.

“I’m so sorry about everything Hyunjin.” you say, hardly audible.

“You should be feeling sorry for your body Y/N.”

“I don’t care about my body, any sort of emotion that runs through my body is for you. it’s because of you.”

“Why did you do it then? Why did you have to kill us so brutely?” when he looks at you, you feel your heart constricting in your chest, longing for comfort that only exists within his fingertips.

“I was stupid,” you admit through swallowing down the lump forming in the center of your throat “I was jealous, and it brought out the worst in me. I had never seen you with a girl before and I just- “you suck a deep breath in, the stupidity of your actions dawns on you the longer you try to explain.

Your eyes comb over his features, the anguish clouding his iris has you melting away in the blues of your rushed decisions.

“It killed me knowing you might have fallen for someone other than me.”

“So, you decided to punish someone innocent over the faults of our hearts?” you long for evidence of his adoring for you, searching the flickers of dark in his eyes for a missing piece that feels it has been snatched away from you. You’re disappointed when you can’t find anything, it’s blank.

Who knew a simple feeling could alter someone’s gaze this much.

“I fucked up, I know I did.” Your voice breaks with anxiety at the thought of losing him “at first it was just that but when I found out that her mom was my dad’s mistress it only got worse.”

Hyunjin lets out a breath of disbelief but doesn’t complain when your nails start digging into his palm, a pathetic claim to cling onto him.

“It felt like she kept taking everyone from me it was you first, then my dad and then my mom kept comparing me to her I just felt like I wasn’t enough, yet no one was feeling my pain.” A small whimper escapes your lips, one that is filled with enough despair to has him shutting his eyes and his teeth latching painfully around his lower lip, as if trying to prevent himself from saying anything.

“I was in so much pain I just wanted to hurt everyone else around me and specifically her. She was everything that I wanted to be. Everything that everyone wanted me to be, but I was nothing but a failure that longed for your love. I was too much of a coward to say it.” You take a deep breath in, your fingers tremble between his, and you feel like an ugly monster who taints everything it touches red with fiery and resentment, it flows from your fingertips.

You feel like nothing but a weakling destruction, an abandoned ground of all the people you could have become.

“I know it’s not right if I could go back and change it trust me I would. I hate myself for it every day, I can’t even look at myself in the mirror for what I did. I was punishing her for something she didn’t even do. I was filled with hatred and anger towards the world, and I took it out on her.”

A winding coil is waiting to snap behind your eyes when Hyunjin frees his hands from you, a shaky exhale escapes and he stands up, you feel him slipping through your fingers, see the fragments of him leaving you once again. It has an unmistakable tightness pulling at your chest. Anxiety, a monster known to make an appearance simultaneity with your darkening thoughts. It snaps when a pregnant silence follows as Hyunjin paces relentlessly before you from left to right as if trying to make sense of your words.

Regret, a color you were so familiar with, has been painted in so many times but this darkening shade you’re drowning in right now doesn’t even compare to anything you’ve felt ever before. It something so much more. A colossal amount that has painful tears cascading down your cheeks in a silent plea.

“I wanted to call it off, but Yeosang didn’t want to. He started threatening me with telling you everything and back then i-I just wasn’t ready to relive the pain of what happened with Seungmin once again.” You wince, your hands shake as your heart grows heavier with every word, with every step of his “When i-I was ready everything came crashing down and it was too late. I wanted to tell you so much sooner.”

“You don’t get it do you?” he finally speaks, voice doused with raw and unfiltered betrayal. You’re only brought back to life to be killed once again “It’s the fact that you did it in the first place that breaks my heart Y/N.”

You open your mouth to respond but no words make appearance in your mind, it’s all blank and misplaced judgments “I don’t know when you became this person. This is not the person I fell in love with. I knew you had your flaws, but I thought you were changing, I thought you left it all behind,” His eyes are devoid of vibrancy as they stare you down, a manifestation of the sadness residing in his heart “I didn’t know what you were hiding in the dark was so much worse than I could ever imagine.”

“H-how do I make it better? How do I fix it?” Your legs hurt when you move to stand up before him, a throb in your body due to how weak you grew in few weeks of abandonment.

“I don’t know,” he whispers, looking away in yearning for a fleeting respite. It’s out of reach when your hand hesitates to touch him. Why does it pain him so much when your hands linger awkwardly between you two? As if you grew to be strangers in a few counted seconds.

“Please tell me how do I fix it.” You plead, voice hoarse as your tears run like an endless steam “I wish I could go back and never make that stupid bet. I wish I could go back and fight Seungmin properly-“

“Don’t bring him up.” His brows furrow and your heart sinks.

“I never wanted to sleep with him-“

“I know. I believe you.” He interrupts you again and you realize the darkness taking over his eyes, doused in pain, is not because of betrayal but rather unexpected. It’s the same entity that you know is etched all over your being too.

Regret.

“I never blamed you for anything that happened with Seungmin.” Your hand finally touches him, cups his cheek in lovingly manner like all the destined lovers are meant to hold each other, he leans into the soft skin of your palm in broken tenderness. A shaky fuck tumbles out of his lips. He hates how you manage to see through him without him uttering a single word. He hates how delicately you touch him, he hates how his heart is wounded because of you and yet bleeds with you, for you. How your sorrow has his anger disappearing into thin air as if it never existed. And he only aches for you, for all the pain you had to endure alone.

He hates that he can’t actually hate you.

“I couldn’t protect you.” He sounds shattered when he speaks, it shatters your soul with it.

“I’m sorry,” he says shakily, and, in that moment, you think you finally understand what’s it’s like to be absolutely broken, to feel pain run through your veins as if it’s your blood, as if it’s a part of you that won’t ever relent. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into you and he comes with ease, your face disappearing into the junction of his neck and shoulder “it’s okay, there’s nothing you could have done. It’s not your fault Hyunjin.” You speak against it, and he shakes in your embrace.

It was such an odd situation, to comfort the boy you filled with despair. It has reality sinking into you at that moment, the fact that the broken pieces of your relationship are much smaller, much sharper than you anticipated and you’re not sure how to pick them up without any of you two bleeding to death. The damage you left, the scars of your past, the unshed tears and all the broken promises are evidence of how you two are incompatible with your love. And it’s excruciating.

You pull away far enough to look at him, his eyes glisten with sorrowful water and you cradle his cheeks, wiping at the few drops that managed to escape “it’s okay.” You murmur, unsure if you’re trying to comfort him or yourself.

“I don’t know if anything will ever be okay again. I don’t know if we will ever be okay.”

“If I fix me then will you love me again?”

“Don’t talk as if you’re a mere object and not human.” He scolds and you feel as if your heart is being carved out of your chest at his care for you despite how wrong you are, how everything is your fault “It only pains me when you talk about yourself like this. When you starve yourself as a way to punish yourself.”

“What should I do then? How do I end your misery? Please tell me.”

“Bring back the girl I fell in love with. The one with infectious smiles and the gleam of the moon in her eyes,” His words hang over you like a gloomy cloud.

“Will you able to forgive me then?” you ask, sad and small.

“I don’t know.” He answers truthfully, an answer you weren’t looking forward to, and it feels like an arrow has been shot through your heart “but if you’re trying then I’m willing to try too.”

Hyunjin leaves soon after, a mountain of unspoken words lingers between you two. Nothing like the secrets you had kept till now, a foreign void forms in your heart and a rather bigger weight burdens your shoulders shrouded in your relationship that’s falling apart. Hanging by a thread that you’re holding onto as if it’s your lifeline. And that’s why you stop Hyunjin by your door. Both of your cheeks flushed and eyes puffy.

“I think I was made for loving you,” your words spill like an explosion that you cannot hold back, enamored by how your soul intertwines even when you’re refusing to touch “Even if you think we seem hopeless right in this moment, and I am only ever wrong and confused. I might be a fool who does not know anything but all I know is I was made for loving you so this is my last promise, I will try my best to make everything better, to be better.”

Hyunjin doesn’t say anything back, there’s no right answer that he could muster up so instead he saves your words in his pocket, and you capture the look of his dreary eyes swimming with endless adoration for you in your mind.

You know it’s true, you love him without being good for anything else.

It’s not until a week later that you see Hyunjin again, right as the first snow of the new year falls. You welcome winter with a dull ache that has spread through your soul. A tempest of memories curl in the folds of frigid winds. It dances through your hair and through his when you see him right outside of your apartment complex. A thick dark blue scarf looped multiple times around his neck, remains of half-finished cigarettes at his feet gives away his building nerves as he waited for a glimpse of you.

“Did you really mean it when you said you want to be better?” When he looks at you, you envision fragments of summer in him. Mere centimeters separate you.

“I meant every word.” Your voice is as soft as the ray of sunshine slipping through the grey clouds.

“I don’t know if there’s gonna come a day where I’ve fully forgiven you. I don’t know if there’s a way for my heart not to throb painfully as it calls your name,” a pause, enough to have you holding your breath when his dark eyes flit across yours “but I think I want to be next to you when it happens.”

He closes the small space between you two and stands before you, looking down at you as if you were 16 again in the middle of your school hallway, your last book ended with bloodshed and deep scars but that never means there’s no room for healing and when Hyunjin extends his hand to you, a youthful smile taking place on his face you feel the truth bloom in you. You see fate rewrites itself into new pages, scribbles of poetry that won’t have to be filled with lies and fearful tears.

“No more secrets?”

“No more secrets.” You answer, with a similar smile.

Despite the bitter winter you feel the warmth of sun seeps into your being when you take his hand in yours. It’s as sweet as peaches and embraces you in overwhelming comfort. a peaceful buzz that settles through the center of your heart, a fresh new color, so bright and foreign but more than anything welcomed.

It’s hopeful and it screams stay, stay, stay.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

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kamjkaze · 7 months ago

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Some Andre HCs cause I feel like I understand my baby the most.. TW: eating disorders

I think Andre struggles with anorexia as a means of having control over his life. If pried about it you’ll learn he genuinely does not believe he has disordered eating. He will fast for days on end to simply feel like he has a grip on his own reality.

I think his brain still thinks I’m german and when he’s only around his family for awhile he fumbles a little when translating his thoughts into English. Cal, naturally makes fun of him for this.

When he’s very sleepy and keeping himself awake his brain defaults to German and Cal usually just goes along with whatever Andre is saying.

Cal and Andre are super different in how they go to sleep. Andre can force himself to be awake for hours even if he’s barely lucid. But Cal, once he’s out, he’s out.

Andre is a mega computer nerd and begged his parents for that little computer for a full calendar year before he received it. He loves to tinker with it and I think once when he was younger his tinkering went too far and he broke something inside it. His dad got suuupppeer pissed and threatened to throw the whole thing out if Andre was so comfortable with breaking the things he bought him. , thankfully Andre fixed it with a bit of reading and stressing

Andre is a terrible skin picker. He has acne as it is but he will poke and prod and squeeze and scratch at all the little bumps on his face. The fact he has dirty man hands all up in his open ass acne is not doing the problem any favors

Andre still struggles with his own religious identity and never fully dropped the idea of Judaism from his mind, even on zero day.

I think he actually enjoys working with his dad, I think he’s a daddy’s boy as it is but being able to be out of the house and actually social with his father most nights is really good for him. Many of his doubts for zero day occurred while he was at work with his father.

I think Andre is very sensitive to weed and cannot handle himself very well with getting high because the Goldilocks zone of “this ain’t shit” to “throwing up and greening out” is so small for Andre. As opposed to Cal who hasn’t taken a tolerance break in the four years he’s been smoking.

This is the opposite for drinking. Andre can smash as much alcohol as he wants in a night whereas Cal is a total lightweight who can’t handle his vodka

Andre sleeps completely naked no matter the season. Andre is also naked most of the time in his bedroom or when left alone in the house. It’s a small quirk about him that he doesn’t really know where it came from. “I guess I was just meant to be a nudist. I mean, it’s how we’re all born”

Andre is not the type to admit his jealousy but it is one of the few things he’s able to laugh about just because I think he understands that he is a very jealous person and has more or less come to terms with it (unless of course pushed too hard about it, Andre would get mad about anything if pushed too hard about it)

When andre was a small boy his favorite book was The Runaway Bunny

Andre Kriegman is my life and joy PLLEAASSEEE share your Andre Hcs with me I beg of you

#zero day #calvin gabriel #andre kriegman #zero day movie #rachel lurie

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weebsinstash · 8 months ago

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You know what I've been thinking about lately? Reader x yandere Japanese coworker who gives you inappropriately elaborate bento boxes

That sounds so ultra specific and you're like "well weeb what do you mean, INAPPROPRIATELY ELABORATE" and like I don't mean there's gold leaf and pearls in there or anything but

Say we have Izuku because he's actually specifically who I've had this idea for. I've been having ideas specifically for a Quirkless AU where you work at a company and you're a grown ass adult and he's like, freshly 20, 21, and he's already a significantly higher position in the company than you. I'm talking one day you start hearing of a new transfer and you're standing at the bus stop/train station whatever to go to work and there's some baby faced young man who is being a little too chatty and friendly with you and you're almost wondering if he's stalking you to work when you find out... He's the son of the president of the company or he's like a few positions below CEO 💀💀💀 you could be like 32 and you've worked here for 4 years and here's this, almost KID making like triple if not even more multiples of your entire year's salary

So you're frugal with your money, saving up for a house or something big, or just straight up in a position that isn't paid very well or, maybe you even have an eating disorder or have a diet where you skip meals, and one day Izuku is doing the thing where he's standing inappropriately behind you to look over the quality of your work on your current task when he hears your stomach grumble and asks if you've taken your lunch yet, and pressures you to go eat, oh "it's our obligation as a company to make sure you're taking your legally mandated breaks :) go take a break, you've worked hard today", and then he's being nosey as fuck about THAT too, snooping to find out what you're eating, maybe even taking his lunch at the same time to try and follow you to where you're eating

Either after finding out you straight up don't eat lunch, or you eat too little, or food that isn't very good for you, one day Izuku is very confidently setting a bento down in front of you, all smiles, so friendly, "I made this for you! I really hope you try some of it!"

I've heard Japanese people say things along the lines of "we don't say I love you but we will ask if you've eaten today" and how in a lot of cultures food is a love language (like how the Mystic Messenger boys would ask if you've eaten?). So. You go to open this lunchbox, having no idea what to expect. And it's. It's not just like, store-bought rice balls, he obviously COOKED THINGS. You open up your bento thinking it's just something easy and simple and it's something like THIS

like. Appreciate the love language that is "cutting food into fun and cute shapes". The man hands you something that took WORK, DEDICATION, FOCUS. There is no point in all the detail besides to make it more enjoyable and he's giving it to YOU. He's handing you an ENGAGEMENT RING OF BENTO BOXES here. And this man is... your boss whom you spend absolutely 0 time outside of work with and you also resent his success 💀

I also see Japanese yandere, specifically in Japan, taking advantage of the Japanese culture of drinking after work. There's real pressure to go to certain company drinking parties, to know how to politely serve drinks to and obey your higher ups, how you'll be ostracized if you don't go when invited, so then you're being awkwardly pressured into situations with a yandere who is trying to make you slip up and let loose little personal details about yourself. So what's your favorite color? Aaa, mine too! I think you said something about growing up innn.... yeah, that was the name, thank you!" and just. Really boiling your frog, you know what I mean? You're getting more comfortable, not realizing the yandere is gradually increasing the amount of alcohol you're drinking and the intensity of their questions

"So, you said you were saving up for a house? Are you going to live there with your partner? Oh, you don't have anyone? Well, surely there was someone in the past, right? No? But... but you're so wonderful, that's so sad! I'm sure someone will come along and, help provide for you and help you settle down someday :) so, what kind of house were you thinking of buying--"

#yandere x reader #izuku x reader #sinprompts #yandere stuff

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sweetestcaptainhughes · 5 months ago

Text

Is it a Dark Day? - Cole Caufield

Word Count - 1.9k

Summary - For the first time since you started dating Cole, your depression seems to be coming back to kick you in the ass. Scared of how Cole will react, you do the only logical thing and pull away.

Warnings - depression, the effects of depression, executive functioning issues, but ends in fluff.

Authors Note: This the first part of a series I plan on writing where I take one mental health issue or any type of disorder and pick a player to write about how they would react if their significant other had it. If you have any ideas for future ones or future players please send me an ask. As always thank you for reading and sorry for not posting much lately. 💜

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Sometimes your brain likes to remind you that you were in fact not a normal happy person. It was an act that you’ve learned to master over the years, sometimes you're such a good actor you even fool yourself. Until your brain reminds you that you are in fact an actor. Someone who plays a part, and it will happen in a flash. Feeling as if you're having a good day, and then suddenly you hear a song that reminds you of something and you start to feel that exhausted and craving your bed. Or you will be out with friends and they remind you of something they find funny but it only reminds you of how much you were struggling at the time. Although the worst one was when you don’t even know the trigger, you could have been having a great time and then suddenly you will be on your couch for the next three days rotting away.

The worst part was this time, it’s almost like you felt the signs but ignored it. It started with the fact that it had been a stressful week at work, then you felt tired all the time, you found yourself being late to work simply because you couldn’t get yourself out of bed. Sadly, you were used to this popping up every once in while, knowing it was inevitable to get this all too familiar sadly almost welcoming feeling in your head. It’s like you had a brain fog come over and no matter what you did you couldn’t shake the feeling. But this time was different from all the others, this time you were dating the actual definition of a very hyper individual who always had some joke to say or a smile on his face. Cole was quickly becoming one of your favorite human beings but you didn’t want him to see you like this where you haven’t even taken a shower in 2 days. Cole was one of those people that radiated sunshine and it made you sink further into your couch thinking about how he would react to you right now. Again, your brain makes you think that he would judge you like others have for when your brain made you hate yourself. Thankfully, Cole was on a roadie so what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

Knowing that you should probably answer Cole’s messages or answer one of his many facetime calls but you just couldn’t bring yourself to. Somehow during the last couple days, your mind seemed to alter your perception of time. Thinking that Cole would still be on his roadie for at least another day. But suddenly you heard banging on your apartment door.

“Baby?! Open the door please.” Cole pleaded on the other side of the door. Hearing his voice shocked you to your core, part of you wanted to open the door and tackle him. Allowing yourself to feel his comforting warmth hoping that some of it would make you feel even a tiny bit better. The rest of you were screaming to pull yourself more into the hoodie that you were wearing, pulling the blankets higher up to hide your body from the world. Letting your emotions overtake you when you realized you were wearing Cole’s hoodie because you wanted him more than anything 3 days ago when you started your couch rotting. It’s funny how time can change things, because nothing could get you up now and walk 30 feet to go open your apartment door.

Cole’s pleas and banging didn’t stop, “baby please! Tell me what I did.” he begged through the door. “y/n?” he said much softer than before, you could barely hear it from where you were hiding in your living room. “Please open up or I’m gonna use my key you gave me for emergencies.” The tears that were lightly streaming down your face now full on ugly crying. Of course that was the moment Cole decided to enter your apartment.

Hearing the door shut behind him as he entered your apartment. “Love where are you?” he asked, before he noticed what appeared to be the shape of your body on the coach. Once Cole did notice you, it was like he was on his knees in front of the sectional in seconds, even though he was on the other side of the apartment. “Mamas you awake, my love?” he asked gently as you felt him taking his palm and rub comforting circles all down your side. As your body registered his voice and processed words and touched your silent sobs became very much more real and loud.

“Hey shhh babygirl whats wrong?” he asked as his other hand not rubbing circles now your back went to grab the edge of the blanket. In a quiet voice Cole spoke his next words very carefully. “Honey, baby I'm gonna remove the blanket okay.”

His voice was telling you that he wasn’t asking but you didn’t care as you started to protest. “No no don’t” your voice started to crack “no I don’t want you to.” As you grabbed the blanket to keep it from moving.

“Why not?” you could tell in his voice that he was feeling hurt.

“I don’t want you to see me like this.” softly you admit not sure if your confession was more of admitting to Cole you didn’t want him to see you or confirming what your body was telling you earlier.

His voice barely over a whisper “what? Did I hurt you? Baby you haven’t answered a single one of my texts in 2 days, I spent most of today trying to not panic as I called your phone. Please baby let me see if you're okay?” Hearing his voice on the last few words and how he seemed to be fighting his own emotions. Feeling as if your own heart broke at that moment, the last thing you wanted to do was bring Cole down with you.

“You're gonna judge me.” you mumble, most of you knows that your thoughts are irrational but the part of your brain that’s calling the shots at the moment truly believes.

“Never.” his voice stern. With that yoo you couldn’t help but let out a little okay. Within seconds you could feel Cole slowly pulling back the safety of your blankets. Only pulling them down enough to see your face. “Hi beautiful.” he grins at you, the relief clear not only in his voice but his face as his eyes are finally able to see you after being radio silent for 2 days.

He moves your head so that you're looking up at him as he asks you “please tell me what’s wrong.” He moves his hands so that they are able to wipe some of the tears off your face.

“I don’t know.” your voice squeaking. Finally letting your eyes focus on him, you see his face is full of nothing but worry. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I-”

“You’re okay. I’m not mad, baby… I just- I want to know what’s going on in your head.” he admits, and your stomach drops at his confession. Loving Cole was one of your favorite things in your entire life, but Cole was different, he had this way of always being happy. How could someone who you have never even seen to have a frown on his face understand that your brain sometimes fights itself. Leaving you feeling as if even doing the most basic mundane task is out of reach and you don’t even know why.

Cole has never seen you struggle with your depression and it’s a lot. On top of his busy schedule due to being in the middle of the season, trying to move up from third line or second. Somehow your brain has convinced you all in a matter of minutes that Cole doesn’t have time to sit back and watch you fight your battles. You didn’t even realize that you were lost in thought until you heard Cole’s voice again.

“Baby” his voice is soft but loud enough for your brain to register that someone was speaking to you.

“I- I- sometimes I just - my brain it's like it.” Struggling to say what you want to say, finding the words to describe how much you truly feel like death at the moment.

“Is it a dark day?” he asks gently. You look at him in shock, “it’s okay to have a bad day every once in a while honey. Just please don’t push me away.” softly bending down and kissing your forehead, your body automatically chasing his lips as they leave your forehead.

“What if it’s more than a day?” you ask.

“Then I’ll be here please just let me love you.” he asks.

“Okay.” feeling yourself caving, allowing Cole to help you, it's almost like your body felt just a sliver of lightness for the first time in days, knowing that Cole felt the same way with the smile he had on his face.

He moved his hands so they were under your arms gently lifting you so he could lay comfortably with you on the coach. “Okay we can lay here for a little longer, then I’m gonna help you shower and get some clean sweats on alright?”

All you can do is nod, feeling overwhelmed with the love that Cole is showing you. Cole stayed true to his words after a few minutes he picked you up and carried you to the bathroom. Balancing on the balls of his feet in front of you on the toilet seat, his hands resting in yours on your thighs.He already turned on the water to warm up “Do you want me to stay or are you gonna shower by yourself.”

“Don’t leave.” the phrase rushing out of you, feeling scared if you didn’t get it out fast enough Cole would leave you again with nothing left but your thoughts to keep you company.

“I won’t until you tell me. We can shower together it’s okay” Finally making eye contact with him again, a giant pout on your lips looking as if you were gonna cry again. He took one of his hands that was resting with yours and took it to your face. “Hey hey you're alright. I promise. This will pass.” Finally moving his lips to yours for the first time since he came over, it was full of nothing less than the love he felt for you. He poured every single emotion into that kiss, it made you feel loved, safe, adored, cared for. Finally pulling apart you whisper a small ‘thanks.’ “Let’s get you cleaned up baby.” As he helps you undress and then quickly shedding his own clothes before helping you in the shower. He helped you wash your body and your hair, giving you little wet kisses all over your body, whispering reassuring words between the kisses. He wasn’t trying to start anything, he just wanted to show you how much he loved you when you couldn’t find anything to love about yourself.

Cole stayed with you that night, actually his only entire weekend off. He had to go to morning skate that Monday morning since it wasn’t optional. But from that weekend on you never felt closer to Cole. He was your light even on your darkest days, and he helped you find yourself every time you felt your depression pulling you away. Every time he noticed you randomly ghosted him. Or seemed distant in your eyes like your mind was somewhere else, he would always ask you one simple question “is today a dark day?” so that he always knew how to care for his girl.

#cole caufield x reader #cole caufield blurb #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #cole caufield #cole caufield imagine #montreal canadiens #montreal canadiens fanfic #cole caufield fanfiction #cole caufield fic #Cole caulfield x y/n #schwritingscc13

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