#x ginger reader

[mawlaeina]

Childe is a family man.

Of course he loves his current family—so much that he spoils them everytime he comes home to Snezhnaya.

But recently he’s come to a point where he’s thought of making a family of his own. Sadly, he’s been too busy with his work as a harbinger to even find someone he wants to get to know better.

That all changed though when he saw you comforting Teucer at the lake nearby his family cabin.

When he came to the lake, he wasn’t expecting hearing the sad sobs of his younger brother Teucer. Instinctively, he began to run through the snowy terrain and towards where the cries were coming from.

There he saw you, panicking and reassuring Teucer (albeit timidly). Teucer had clung to you, hugging you tightly as he cried his eyes out on your shoulder, and there you were—knelt to the young ginger’s height as you embraced him, softly patting his back to soothe whatever was ailing him.

Something ticked inside Childe’s head, and before he knew it he was walking towards you with a glint of interest in his eyes.

Childe called out to Teucer, and Teucer let go of you to rush over to his older brother. It put a smile on Childe’s face knowing he was still his younger brother’s favorite. You stood up, and both of you introduced each other.

You say that you were new, having just moved into the neighborhood from Liyue. Currently, you began to work as a tutor for the neighborhood kids, adding that you’ve always liked kids and wanted to help and see them grow up. It gave you such a fulfilling experience.

Oh, you had no idea how that statement made Childe’s blood rush to his head… and pants.

He smiled, saying that he also liked kids, his younger brother Teucer in particular. He asks how you managed to meet Teucer since he usually just stays inside playing with the Mr. Cyclops toys that Childe gave him everytime he returned. You reply that you visited his family cabin because his mother invited you over after helping her with some groceries before.

Teucer randomly began to mention how his brother was single—much to his own brother’s surprise. Who taught him that? Childe thought as he awkwardly laughs it off in front of you, though he secretly hoped you’d take interest in such a topic.

Before any of you could even say another thing, Teucer began to go off again, talking to his brother how pretty you were, and how he liked and wanted you to be another one of his big sisters. You were flattered of course and chuckled at the cute ramblings of the kid.

You asked Childe if this was a normal thing, and Childe responded that he doesn’t usually do this. You began to talk to each other, and Teucer seemed to notice how the two of you got a long so well so quickly.

So he asked you the million dollar question.

“Hey, will you marry my big brother Ajax?” He asks abruptly, stunning you and Childe momentarily.

A blush forms on your cheeks as you began to laugh bashfully, scratching your cheeks with a finger, unsure of how to respond to the child without sounding too bad.

“Uhm… Teucer, we just met.” You say to the young boy.

“But you’ll marry him, right?” He seemed so excited at the thought, and Childe was as well, though he decided to laugh it off.

“Teucer, don’t get too excited now. No one’s rushing for me to get married.” Childe tells his younger brother kindly, though Teucer only pouts.

Oh, but the plans that Childe began to have in his head after Teucer mentioned marriage. He definitely saw a possibility that he could spend a future with you.

Maybe give him some time, get to know him. You’ll definitely find yourself spoiled rotten in the future by this handsome Snezhnayan bachelor.

✦ I’m not obsessed with him, I’m not obsessed with him, I’m not-

✦ happy birthday to my dearest darling harbinger and husband

[Good lord I just wanna pamper him with kisses in the face]

[konigsblog]

strawberry blonde könig is so adorable to me. i wanna play with his wavy/curly locks of red hair, whilst stroking him gently and sloppily, kissing down his marked, scarred nape with his large fingers tangled in my hair, a strong arm wrapped around my waist. :(

he's so hairy... his balls are furry and hairy with his strawberry blonde, curly pubes ;3

[slasherscream]

Crazy Ass Girls Gang ft. killing the reader’s rapist

warnings: yandere behavior, subject matter is rape/sexual assault, gore warning in some parts - YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

TIFFANY VALENTINE:

Tiffany knows something happened to you. Call it woman's intuition. Maybe just call it true love. Or obsession. Whatever it is she can sense a hole in you. A gaping pit of misery that you try and hide. Try and fight against.

Tiffany tries to help, when you let her. Most of the time you don't. Instead of admitting to being so depressed you can’t move or eat, you'll feign physical illness. You pretend you're crying because some part of your body hurts. Tiffany knows better. Knows it’s something in your soul itself. Aching. 

Tiffany let's it go on for as long as she can stomach it. The relationship was still so new. You'd just moved in together. Just finished pulling your separate lives into one. Picking out the throw pillows, what color to paint the walls. Argued playfully over bedding and mattress firmness. Is it too early to push? 

She watches you at the breakfast table, on the really bad days, eating mechanically, no joy in your movement or behind your eyes. She doesn't want there to be anything between you. Any secrets. Any distance. If you're hurting she wants you to lean on her. To need her as much as she needs you. To know she’ll catch you, no matter what it is she’ll catch you. It’s enough to leave her in tears every time you put on that awful fake smile. 

She wakes one night, blinking into the darkness. For a moment, she's not sure what woke her. Moonlight streams in from the window. The sound of the fan whirring across the room. Her eyes begin to drift shut again when she hears a muffled sob come from the bathroom. Her hand falls to your side of the bed, instinctively. She closes her eyes when she realizes how cold your side has gone. How long ago did you wake up? How quickly did you decide to crawl from bed and hide from her again? Always hiding. 

It's too much, now. You crying alone in the bathroom in the middle of the night is too much. She throws open the door and takes you into her arms, cooing softly, own eyes watering at the way you go limp against her so quickly. Here she'd been trying to give you space and what you needed was her affection, her tenderness, the whole time.

"What's wrong, huh, baby-doll? You gonna tell your Tiffany what's wrong now? Please?" She whispers against your hair, kissing the crown of your head.

You haven't said the words out loud in so long but you're tired of fighting the demons, and the nightmares, and the misery, all on your own. You've held it in so tightly since you met her. As if you'd taint her just by saying the words. But you love her, and you just want to stop hiding.

When you tell her she goes still. For just a second. Her arms tighten around you like a vice. She begins to rock you gently, cooing reassurances in your ear. She tells you to let everything out and you do. Now that you know she’ll still love you. That she’ll still be here for the aftermath. You can’t stop yourself.

By the end you feel exorcized. Alive. Softened and made new by the level of tenderness Tiffany had shown you. She gathers you from the floor of the bathroom, wipes both of your tears away and kisses you gently. She tucks you back into bed and asks only one more question: 

“What was their name again, sugar bear?” You don’t hesitate to tell her. It warms her heart the way you curl into her side without anymore hesitation. The space between you gone now. 

You sleep deeply that night. You wake up to an empty bed and are surprised. Usually, no matter how late you sleep in Tiffany is still wrapped around you. Just as much a night owl as you, early mornings are rare.  

You pass by the laundry room, notice that the washer and dryer are both going. You thought you did all the laundry a few days ago. You peek into the washer and notice how red the water is. Tiffany must have been attacked by the creative spirit, gotten messy using some paint. 

You hope she didn’t use acrylics this time, the stains never come out. 

You walk through the house calling for your girlfriend. No answer. You step out onto the back porch and there she is. Bathed in the early afternoon sun. Your whole body relaxes when you see her in the garden, bent over, planting a whole new row of flowers. She’s absolutely covered in dirt. You smile, feeling happier than you have in ages. You rush out to join her in the sunlight and throw your arms around her. 

“I love you, Tiff.” You cover her face in kisses, ignoring the dirt.

“I love you too, baby-doll. I love you more than anything.” Tiffany kisses you back, sweet and passionate. Playfully, she spins you to lay beneath her and revels in the sound of your carefree, shrill laughter. 

She hopes they can hear you, just barely, through the layers of dirt she buried them in. With their last breath she hopes they hear your laughter and realize they didn’t break you. 

JORDAN LI:

You weren’t answering your phone. Not their calls. Not their texts. It was enough to have them shrugging on their jacket and stomping out of their dorm into the cool night air.

They’d had a bad feeling about letting you go out alone tonight. You always partied together. Usually with Jordan’s friends, who had become yours. Jordan hated the old group you used to run with. Disloyal. Stupid. Selfish. Now she wishes you’d at least taken one of those fake groupies. At least then you wouldn’t be alone. 

She walks through the party, a brick wall, shoving people aside as she calls your name. Anxiety prickles the skin at the back of her neck. She jogs up the stairs, taking them two at a time. She throws open door after door, music from the party too loud to even fucking think. 

Jordan’s angrier by the second, wondering if something happened to you. She hopes you just lost your phone. If someone stole it she’ll break their fucking jaw. 

The last door in the hallway, she sees two bodies on the floor, one moving against the other in the dim light. She rolls her eyes about to slam the door shut and go look for you in the kitchen again. As she goes to close the door she stops dead when she hears a whimper from the floor. The tiniest noise of pain, a drowsy “stop”. The scene looks different now.

She steps into the room, forgetting about you for one second, heart pounding in her ears. Jordan pulls the person on top off by their hair, hard enough to hurt. When she sees it’s Rufus she let’s out a laugh of anger and blasts him across the room with her power. Hard enough that he leaves a dent in the wall. 

Jordan turns to the person on the ground, hoping the short distance between them and Rufus will make his fucking pheromone bullshit wear off. 

“Are you-” Her blood stops. It’s you, on the floor. Your outfit torn and ripped. Tears are running down your cheeks but your eyes still have that drugged shimmer that might as well be that walking roofie’s calling card. 

“Jordan?” You mumble from the floor, dazed and confused. 

Rufus makes a sound from across the room, getting to his feet. Jordan stops breathing as she turns. They make eye contact. Fear in one pair. Anger so strong it’s inhuman, in the other.

Jordan’s across the room in an instant. Her fist breaks his jaw with the first blow. Everything after that is a blur. She comes back to herself when she feels a stabbing pain shoot through her fist and she pulls her hand away with a hiss. Bone fragment cutting into her hand. 

The haze of the rage falls away and Jordan realizes how wet she feels.  She looks down at her clothes. Sees how soaked in blood they are. Then her eyes fall to the mess she’s left on the floor. She almost throws up. Shakes her hands and feels brain matter slide off of them.

She thinks, what the fuck did I just do? What the fuck did I just do? 

“Jordan?” You call from across the room, sounding less drugged. 

She looks over at you and tears burn her eyes. Numb, she climbs off the body and rushes to you, looking you over. The tears fall when she sees the bruises, the small cuts. You must’ve fought him, even through the haze of his powers. You’ve always been a fucking fighter. She should have fucking been here. She doesn’t want to touch you with the blood on her hands but you don’t give her a choice, falling into her arms sobbing. She forces back her own. This is her fault. You’re the only one who deserves to cry. 

“I’m so fucking sorry.” Jordan mumbles, hands shaking as they leave bloody smears across your skin. What else can she say?

NANCY DOWNS:  

Secret keeping doesn’t work with Nancy. No matter how small of a secret, or a lie, she can sniff it out. Furthermore she hates when you lie. About anything. You should always tell each other the truth. You're one soul in two separate bodies, as far as Nancy is concerned. 

Even before she did the spell to bind you to one another permanently. 

Because of the magic she can feel what you’re hiding now. She had a suspicion before. But now she knows. Now she fucking knows. She’s furious, and heartbroken, and she knows. 

You still try and hide it, though. As if you can hide anything from the other half of your fucking soul.  

“Enough, Y/N.” She spits at you one night, when you’re trying so hard not to think about it. Not to feel. 

She doesn’t know why you’re blocking her out. Not letting her feel it with you. Whatever you suffered. Whatever harm that befell you it would be avenged times three if you just let her in.

Nancy’s magic has always been stronger. She was being kind before. Hoping you would come to her on your own. She sees now that you need to be encouraged. She’s still gentle, somehow, as she invades the sanctity of your mind. For one instant your consciousness is her consciousness, and you’re both one being, sharing every thought and feeling. 

She sees it. Feels it. Lives what you lived, in that single moment. She pulls herself out of your mind, eyes hauntingly empty. They meet yours, register you, and fill with tears slowly. You reach out, in sync and Nancy pulls you to her. You can’t tell apart the sounds of your voices as you start to scream and sob. 

You pass out, eventually. Either from exhaustion or a spell Nancy placed on you. You wake in your shared bed to her standing over you, covered in blood. A knife in one hand, something meaty and dripping in the other. When your eyes adjust fully to the moonlight you realize it’s a human heart. 

“It’s okay, Y/N. You're safe now. You’ll always be safe, with me. You understand?” Nancy coos, petting your face with the hand holding the knife. It cuts you. You start to cry and you’re not sure if it’s from relief. 

JENNIFER CHECK:

You come home from the party you attended quietly. You open the door without a sound. Kick off your shoes. Put down your bag. You’ve shut yourself into the bathroom before she can even ask how it went. Immediately, her hackles are up. Irritation and concern. You know she hates being ignored. You never ignore her. You didn’t even say hello. 

Jennifer knocks on the bathroom door, trying to keep her voice playful as she asks what your deal is. You don’t respond. The sound of running water is the only thing she can hear. She pounds on the door, getting nervous. 

Then she picks up the smell of prey. You smell like prey. Dried sweat perfumes your skin, the sweetest smelling kind, that only one emotion causes: primal fear. The faintest whiff of blood and tears.

She breaks down the door. You don’t even notice. Don’t even look away from the mirror. You just go on trying to wipe the blood from your face. Your lip is busted. Hair a tangled mess. Scrapes along your cheek and neck, collarbone. Your clothes are a mess too. Rips and tears in fabric that was pristine a few hours ago.

“Baby?” Jennifer says again, feeling sick. Still nothing. 

She reaches out to touch you, gently. You come alive, jolting away from her with a scream. It’s the type of fear she’s heard a thousand times. Right before she rips out an organ or a throat. 

It’s the breaking of a dam and you fall to the ground, sobbing, still trying to wipe away at your skin. Any bit of skin you can reach. Jennifer tries to wrestle the rag from you. You’re being too rough, you're only human. You’re so breakable. You fight against her, sobs getting louder. 

“Baby stop fighting me!” Jennifer begs, uncharacteristically.  Between your sobs she makes out the words of you needing to clean yourself and her eyes fill with tears. She didn’t know she was capable of tears still.

“Stop.” Jennifer commands, voice going inhuman, harmonic. You go still, entranced by the full force of her power. Jennifer feels the tears falling down her cheeks. Watches your own tears cut bloody, miserable lines down your face. 

She takes the rag and gently wipes at your cuts. She peels away your ruined clothes. Starts the bath and places you inside it. Every time her hold on your mind starts to wane, and that animal fear of harm kicks back in, she speaks to you. She doesn’t let the control slip until your body stops secreting that awful smell of terror. 

“Who did this, baby?” She asks quietly, trying not to focus on the haunted look on your face. 

You don’t answer her. She swallows. 

“That’s okay, baby. I’ve got the scent anyways.” She tucks you into bed, orders you into a dreamless sleep that you couldn’t hope to fight off. 

She doesn’t come back home until the morning. The blood beneath her fingernails makes her itch. The smell of the monster she killed is putrid in her nose. She showers under water so hot it singes even her skin. When she crawls into bed beside you, before she falls asleep, she thinks about how hungry she is. She curls her entire body around yours.

She hadn’t been able to stomach even the thought of eating your fucking rapist. 

CARRIE WHITE:

You’d just moved into this house together. It was a nice enough neighborhood. Cozy. Nothing too big or expensive. The dorms at university had been too loud and hectic for Carrie. For this semester you’d decided you needed to build a life together. 

She’d never been happier than she was while painting the walls with you. Picking out lamps, and blankets, and a shoe rack. She remembers the way she’d used telekinesis to haul the heavy couch inside while the two of you held your hands underneath and pretended to carry it. The elderly neighbors all watching from their porches with dropped jaws. When you took one hand away to wave at them Carrie had to rush you both inside before she actually dropped the couch from laughing. 

You went to class together. Cooked and cleaned side by side. Carrie tailoring clothes for money and you tutoring. It was good. Life was good. After years of suffering, you were her heaven on Earth. 

Carrie came home from grocery shopping, humming quietly to herself. She knew you were home but didn’t call out for you. You’d told her you were tutoring someone this afternoon. Some of the subjects required a lot of focus, especially if you were already struggling with the material. She’d brought extra snacks in case they were hungry. 

She set the groceries down in the kitchen and walked into the living room. She froze in her tracks. You were there, and there was your student, on top of you. You locked eyes with Carrie, over their shoulder. They were holding you down. You’d been gagged to keep you from screaming. So the neighbors wouldn’t hear.

They were assaulting you in your own home. In the home you shared with her. Her vision whited out. 

She came to with your hands gently shaking her awake. She screamed when she saw you. You were covered in blood. In gore, and chunks of flesh. The sight alone brought back such horrible memories she turned over and threw up. You held her hair back, as if the blood on your hands was less awful than vomit. 

She tried to look…. To see what she’d done. But you won’t let her look past you. You’re sobbing and still trying to protect her. Even though she hadn’t protected you. Her whole world. Her angel, that God sent her, and she’d let you be defiled. She’d failed you. 

You fall apart in each other’s arms, trying to ignore the headless body a few feet away.

GINGER FITZGERALD:

You’d thought she’d under-reacted, when you told her. ‘She’s being unusually calm’ was your exact thought. But you were so tired, after years of holding in the dark secret. You were just relieved to have her acceptance, without hesitation, without disgust. 

She asked no questions that could leave you wondering about anything. On whether or not she thinks it’s your fault. If she thinks you should’ve fought back harder. If she thinks you’re weak. Tainted. Dirty. She says all the perfect words, everything you’ve ever needed to hear. She held you close and whispered them, and kissed you the same as always. 

She treats you no differently. You let yourself soften in the reality of a devotion that only Ginger can give. 

But you knew she was under-reacting. 

You walk into your living room a week later and see Ginger sitting on the couch, your rapist beaten within an inch of their life, bound and gagged at her feet. Her face lights up when she sees you. She grins like a wolf, canines sharper than usual. 

She stomps on their head as she skips to greet you, grabbing you by the hips. She ignores your gaping mouth when she kisses your cheek affectionately, “Brought you a little gift, baby.” 

“I almost just killed them, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted-”

“Wanted to what, Ging?” You cut her off, breathless, eyes glued to that hauntingly familiar face.

“Wanted the chance to make them suffer, before they die.” Ginger whispers, staring at you so lovingly you almost start to cry.

You tug her into your arms and laugh wetly when she starts to purr. You can see the way her tail wags beneath her skirt. She’s always so eager to please.

“I don’t know if I can do that, Ginger.” You admit into the skin of her neck. 

“Sure you can.” Ginger coos, taking you by the hands and leading you over to the shivering body on the ground. “I’ll show you how.”

She takes off the gag so you can hear the screams better. 

[lustnhim]

elvis’ last vacation in hawaii (77’) 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

[hoejosatoru]

Hinata overstims himself bc he just can’t make himself pull out:(. He’s never been good at holding back and that absolutely reigns true when it comes to your pussy. You’re just so wet and warm and tight he can’t help himself:(

Hinata is a whimpering, panting mess, yet still has enough energy good, strong thrusts. You’ve cum so many times you’re basically overstimulated too but fuck he looks so good sheening with sweat above you that you just can’t bring yourself to stop him. And feeling his dick twitch and throb inside you feels so so good why would you want to?

Hinata is so completely fucked out and yet is still chasing another high in your sweet, sloppy pussy. He’ll stop when he physically can’t fuck you anymore and, given his stamina as a pro athlete, it will take awhile.

Hinata let’s out the sexiest, desperate groan as he feels himself cum again. You’re so, so full but some how manage to take more and he thinks it’s the sexiest thing ever. It’s going to be a long night but you both wouldn’t have it any other way.

[eyeheartboobiez]

-> 𝗃𝖺𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝖽 𝗑 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

-> 𝗌𝗈𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖺 𝖺𝗎!

-> 𝖺/𝗇: 𝗈𝗄𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖫𝖠𝖲𝖳 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗆𝗆𝖺 𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗇𝗂𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗃𝖺𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆 𝗂 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗋😭

Jason Todd and ex girlfriend, Artemis Grace, spotted outside a club together just hours ago! May this old flame be finding its spark again? (8/20/2022 3:14 AM PT)

For months now, people have been buzzing after Gotham elite Jason Todd and singer Y/N Y/LN hinted at being in a relationship. Ever since this past March when they were initially spotted together, fans have done nothing short of obsessing over the two.

Artemis Grace, former girlfriend of Jason, had gotten into some hot water recently when insiders claimed that the singer had something to do with leaking Y/N’s unreleased track, Fantasize.

As mentioned in former articles, TMZ investigators came to the conclusion that Artemis was involved in publishing the song as a way of “getting her lick back”. Time logs show that the dubbed “rival” singer entered the same studio as Y/N not too long after she left for the night.

Many people online have been more than vocal about their love for the song, despite the fact that it was released without the artist’s consent.

While Artemis has yet issue a statement regarding the accusations, she seems to have plenty of time to be out partying with her ex.

Fast forward to last night, when just hours ago, Jason and Artemis were seen leaving a nightclub together and looking very close for comfort. Onlookers were not only shocked, but absolutely gagged when they saw the two hugging each other goodbye.

With their late night rendezvous breaking headlines, some fans are starting to question if Jason may have also played a part in helping Artemis, or if they ever really broke up at all!

The exes, who were romantically involved for almost two years, have a long history of being toxic towards each other. Their on-again-off-again relationship was notorious for its dysfunctionality, making it hard to keep up most of the time.

It wasn't until late last year when both Jason and Artemis officially called it quits by posting an announcement on their respective Instagram accounts (although many were skeptical to believe it).

Despite the initial shock of the situation, it begs the question: Where does Y/N stand in all of this?

Fans of the singer songwriter were quick to come to her support, majority of whom expressing their clear disappointment in Jason.

“I was really betting on these two,” says Twitter user @y/n’scoochiehairs. “I feel like a child of divorce…”. The fan account, while only just a few months old, grew exponentially due to their constant posts about the alleged couple.

Many sentiments like this have been circulating the internet once the pictures from last night began to surface. Y/N is notorious for putting her emotions into her songs, so at least we know she’ll be releasing new music soon, right?

— replies —

user1: oh she really aint playing...

user2: COOK HIM GOOD SIS!!

user3: girl this is a whole bar put this energy into a song or sumn😭

user4: sooo what im hearing is that ur single🤔

⤷ user5: ntm on my wife now..

user6: this next album bouta be BIBLICAL

user7: genuinely hope youre doing okay🥺🫶

user8: ily queen🩷

people you may know!

liked by b_zarro and 613,189 others

@artemisofmighdall: last night was a dream✨

View all 25,846 comments

user1: first you mess with her music then you mess with her man.. if bold was a person…

user2: the hell is she smiling so damn big for?? ain’t shit funny😐

user3: girl you betta PRAY i don’t catch you in these streets…

user4: “last night was a dream” yeah and you in for a rude awakening cuz wth💀

user5: these comments killing me😭

user6: you already going to hell for being a ginger now you just making it worse for yourself🤦‍♀️

— creator has turned off comments—

end notes: is jason involved or is he just being framed👀 lmk what you think!!

[hyperfizationss]

Hi there! So first of all, I love your content, especially for mutant mayhem! I just read through your wills and wonts and it gave me a request idea. Could you please do the mm turtles reacting to their girlfriend dying their hair to match them? Thank you sm<3

Request by @maybedontdothat

𝗠𝗺 𝘁𝘂𝗿𝘁𝗹𝗲𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝘀/𝗼 𝗱𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗵𝗮𝗶𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆'𝗿𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝗹𝗼𝗿𝘀

𝙻𝚎𝚘💙

-Leo already thought you were his soulmate, but this is made him like head over heels in love

-when you say down in first period with blue hair he literally had no clue what was going on. He actually pinched himself because he thought he was in a dream.

-Bum bum bum bum bum bum and she cried over nothing so there was nothing I could do to stop her from cutting her beautiful blue hair off bum bum bum bum bum bum 

-you didn’t say anything to him first period. He didn’t even know you were planning on dying your hair.

-It was a complete surprise to him, and he freaking loved it.

-Kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss, kiss kiss

-Need I say more

-“is that for me” he asked nervously “ no totally not” she said sarcastically

-He’s not a big fan of change by any means but he’s freaking loved your hair. It’s the one time he thought change was good that and when they were kinda excepted into the human world.

𝗥𝗮𝗽𝗵❤️

-bro got so rizzed.he knew it was for him he Almost fainted to,his little Brain just went:🫣

-he resulted back to caveturtle,no words out grunts of happiness

-bro,wouldn’t let go off you,the whole time he was just kinda on your side

“Babe,you don’t have the next class with me”

“I do now”

-he wouldn’t let go,he got his schedule changed too

-it’s like a constant reassurance to him that you like him and you don’t think he’s some kind of freak

ԃσηηวє 💜

-let me start off by saying like the other tow he was not stunned,he was legit so amazed.he thought you looked cool,and bold!

-he immediately gave you a list of anime characters you could display that had purple hair,he was so excited

-he literally couldn’t take his yes of you,it was just to cool 😎 he honestly thought you were like such a badass and that you looked so cool

-literally learned how to do hair because of this,he wanted to see every single hairstyle on you.

“Damn,wish I had hair,you look so kewl😢”

“Do you want a wig or smt?”

-and that’s how Donnie got a wig

ɱıƙɛყ🧡

-ha ginger

-anyways…..

-he actually made more ginger jokes than I did,but nonetheless he loved it.again like raph he saw you in the hallway and he immediately screamed in happiness and ran up to hug you.

-happy boy,happy boy

-but bro why would you wanna be a ginger?

-BY CHOICE TO!?

𝗧𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗸𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴💗💗💗💗💗

I’ve been real tired due to school(8th grade is kicking my ass😣) and I’m sorry for not posting much

I’ve just been tired but except some new content anytime now

[rocketqueen1989x]

axl wearing black nail polish is so cunty to me

[ikemenomegas]

During your courtship, Jiaoqiu makes you get snakes for his pharmacy. It's quite common for couples that include at least one Foxian to hunt together so he doesn't leave you to do it alone. But this is less for the sake of tradition and more for the sake of his amusement as you jump around in long grass, holding a viper behind its head and forcefully keeping it from biting your face or arm or leg and any other body part. You really sound a bit pitiful as you yelp, nearly stepping on another one before pouncing, shouting so loud there can't possibly be anything in the way of game left within a half-li radius, and stuffing it into the special basket he prepared for you. You don't complain even once, though you sniffle when you hand him the basket, so he doesn't tease you that much.

[konigsblog]

ugh, könig is such a geek, i bet he'd enjoy subjects like physics and chemistry, always correcting your english and grammar, and has so much knowledge on everything ... :(

smart, mean & cocky könig x dumb reader ... dumbification and the taunting !! 🫂

[slasherscream]

Crazy Ass Girls Gang ft. what type of yandere are they

warnings: yandere behavior - YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

Tiffany Valentine / clingy, obsessive, manipulative 

You'd better be damn sure you want to be with Tiffany before you ever bring up dating her because there is no escape once you've embarked on the exciting journey of being her romantic partner.

But if we're being honest you never really had a choice. You think you met organically? Became close by fate? No, Tiffany saw you and wanted you and decided to have you.

It was love at first sight on her part.

You'll be friends for a few months as she weaves the inescapable web around you. Best friends, actually. You'll tell her absolutely everything about yourself. Learn everything about her in turn. It's pure bliss to have a friend like Tiffany. Supportive, charming, affectionate.

You can tell she loves you more than anything. Loves you more than anyone else has ever loved you before, and she isn't afraid to show it.

You probably already had a partner when you met Tiffany. She was heartbroken when you first told her. The heartbreak didn't last long. Why cry over spilled milk? She wants to take it slow with you anyways, make sure that this time every aspect of the life you build together will be perfect.

She's come in too heavy before. You can't rush perfection, her mother always told her. For you, the lesson is finally worth learning.

Everything can be a tool. In the right hands. And Tiffany's hands? Why, they're incredibly skilled. She uses your soon-to-be-ex as a diving board for your upcoming relationship with her. Even if you'd been perfectly content with the relationship until you met Tiffany, suddenly everything is awful.

Tiffany points out every mistreatment. Every cancelled date. Every strange tone they used when talking to you. Every shitty, unoriginal gift. Every moment they weren't enthusiastic enough about good news you had to share.

It gets to the point where you can't even look at them half the time. You'll end dates with your partner early just to go spend more time with Tiffany: "What do you think they meant when they said that, Tiff?" / "I think they forgot who they were talking to, sweetheart! They're lucky I wasn't around or I would've cut out their tongue."

Tiffany has you so wrapped around her finger she's not even the one who suggests the break up. She was still going to wait a month or two before she began to truly push.

But when you show up at her doorstep in the middle of the night, holding flowers and her favorite takeout, rambling about how you've been so blind and it's always been Her...

Well, she has to smile as she pulls you in, savoring the last first kiss your lips will ever gift another soul.

She almost forgot how good she is at getting what she wants.

Jordan Li / protective, obsessive, lucid

You're so sweet. It was the first thought Jordan remembers having about you. The beginning of the end. They haven't been able to stop thinking about you since that one fatal moment.

Jordan has plenty of other things to think about. Things that should outclass you in importance easily. Their ranking, Brink's careful mentoring, their grades. They tell themselves that it all still matters more than you but they know they're lying to themselves.

It scares them a little, how much they actually think about you. Not a minute can go by without their thoughts drifting to you.

Did you eat today? / Your next class is in ten minutes, let me walk you, I've got the time. / You were running out of your favorite perfume. Got you a new bottle. / You look upset. Did someone fucking say something to you?

They can't help the way they hover around you during every spare moment they can find.

Jordan knows your schedule by heart to maximize the amount of time you can spend together. It's a balancing act they have to play with their brain for the simplest of tasks: you can spend the rest of the day with Y/N but you have to finish grading these essays first.

They can't function properly when they go too long without you. They swing on their sparring partners too hard. Stare at the clock during lectures instead of listening. They rip textbooks and snap pens by holding them too tight.

Sometimes they have to give up and call you. If they can't go and see you for whatever reason the sound of your voice makes it better. Hearing you talk, the sound of you breathing, laughing. It helps. Calms the buzz beneath Jordan's skin. They dial your contact, glaring into space as they wait for you to pick up. As soon as you do their body relaxes.

They recognize that their behavior isn't normal. Always needing to know where you are, who you're with. Feeling sick when they don't know.

You're like a drug for Jordan. They know you're an addiction, the way you've crawled under their skin. No high on earth compares, and Jordan has fucking compared them all. They pull you into their lap, as close as they can get you and it's never enough. Nothing is ever enough.

"Please don't fucking go anywhere, yeah?" Jordan will mumble into the skin of your neck. Their grip on you is too tight, face twisted at the desperation they feel. It's not pillow talk. They're begging. Genuinely. They'd do anything to keep you this close, always.

"Of course not, Jordie." You coo back. They close their eyes and pretend the words are enough. Nothing ever is.

Nancy Downs / delusional, possessive, obsessive

As soon as Nancy wants you there's no other option for you besides her. You can either choose to go along with it or you can fight it.

Fighting against her is like fighting against the tide, though. You can tread water for awhile. Keep your head afloat, sure. But eventually you'll get tired. Nature wins. Besides, fighting against Nancy becomes unpleasant fast. Being hers is so much nicer. She's gentler that way, kinder.

You're allowed to have friends, she doesn't isolate you completely.

It's just your old friends sucked. They didn't appreciate you. Didn't look out for you. Selfish users just like everyone else. Moths are always drawn to the light, and she'll kill every moth that strays a little too close to you, before it ever gets a chance to singe itself on your warmth. It's a mercy, really. Living a life in the darkness and having one brief moment in the sun is miserable. Nancy should know. It almost drives her crazy when you're not around. If you ever left she'd want to be put out of her misery too.

Her coven, though? They're perfect. Her coven is a family. And you were the last missing piece of it.

Anything about your old life, the life before her, can be viewed as a threat at a moment's notice. Family. Friends. Memories you speak of a little too fondly. Even a hobby could do it. She wants your focus to be her. It's only fair, her only focus is you.

Even when she's not around. Even when you're completely alone you swear you can feel her eyes on you. Her magic drifting against your skin as if she was sitting right beside you.

Nancy's intensity can be scary but she makes anyone else's love seem dull in comparison.

Who else could love you like she does? Who else would die for you? Nancy wouldn't even have to think about it first. All she asks in return is for you to do the same. Live for her. Dedicate every breathe in your lungs to her.

It's not so hard, she'll lead by example.

Jennifer Check / manipulative, possessive, clingy

She couldn't give a shit about anyone else but you. Somehow you managed to sneak your way into her heart and she can't let go of you. Won't let go of you. You're the only thing that's keeping that small, soft, human part of her alive. You dragged that bit of her back from the grave she put it in, actually. So it wouldn't be fair for you to try and leave, after you made her weak again. Human again.

Her world revolves around you. Her priorities are her next meal and you. Of course she gets pissed off if you don't reciprocate her energy. Look at her, how could you ever put anything above her?

Jennifer wants you to be everything to each other, though she won't say it out loud. It shows in her actions.

You belong to her. Every version of yourself that exists in the world should belong to her. The version of you that you are when you're someone's best friend. When you're someone's partner. It's all hers. She won't let anyone else take root in your life in a role that she can fill. She'll do a better job anyways.

The enormity of her ego and the way she clings might seem at odds. She thinks she's a God walking amongst fucking cattle. But she sticks to you like a second skin. A hand always at your waist. Her lips always chasing yours, whining when you don't give in fast enough, when you don't melt like she does. Her grip iron clad when you hold hands. If you pull away too soon from a hug, from a kiss, she bites, she holds on with claws.

She coos at the marks she leaves on your skin and kisses all the scratches and bruises she leaves better. / "I'm sorry baby, you know I hate letting you go."

Carrie White / idolizer, protective, selfless

Not in her wildest dreams did Carrie think anyone could be as kind as you. People are cruel. Their first instinct is to cause hurt before they'll ever reach out a hand to help, to shield, to love.

But you're not like that at all. You're something ripped straight from a fairy-tale. The rare ones that her Mother let her read, that weren't hiding devil worship between their poetic words.

You're so patient with her. So gentle. You treat her like glass. You hold her close, and kiss her soft, and cup her face in your hands that are always so warm.

You say you love her in a breathless way, every time. Like even expressing how much you care makes you dizzy. As if she overwhelms you. She feels dizzy herself as she hangs on your every honeyed word. Clings to you every time you reach out your hands to hold her.

Carrie doesn't know if she believes in God nowadays, but if she did you'd be an angel sent straight from heaven. A gift, maybe, to make up for all the years of torment she endured from everyone she'd ever known.

She'd think you were some kind of God yourself, if you had any sort of abilities like her. But you don't. You walk around doing what's right, being good down to the marrow of your very bones just because it's who you are. You greet the world with your fists raised and you're only human, and it scares Carrie so much.

You're the last decent person alive and you'll throw yourself onto any pyre you see if it means doing what's right. Carrie loves that about you. It terrifies her.

So Carrie throws herself into the ring with you. Your sweet, gentle Carrie who you're always trying to protect. But Carrie doesn't need your protection. She's not the helpless little girl she used to be. She won't let anything hurt either of you, from now on. For the rest of your lives you'll be safe, happy. Together. Carrie would burn the world to ash if it meant not a scratch would befall you.

"You're an angel, Y/N. The most wonderful angel God ever made."

Ginger Fitzgerald / possessive, impulsive, protective,

Sometimes Ginger wishes everyone else in the world would disappear, besides the two of you. They're a hindrance.

She feels insane when she watches you. She feels her claws come out and makes herself bleed as she fights against the instinct to rip out every tongue that speaks to you, and every pair of eyes that's ever looked into yours.

She shivers when you claim her. The only time she enjoys being around other people now is when you're introducing her: "This is Ginger, my girlfriend." "This is Ginger, my partner." "This is Ginger, my best friend." "This is Ginger, my everything."

She loves being yours. Relishes in the way you say the word mine. She wants to lick the words from your mouth, the weight of your total ownership over her sweet and poisonous.

She wonders if you get the same pleasure from belonging to her. She wants you to. She wants to carve her name into your skin with her claws and have you moan at the first sharp sting of the letter G.

It's primal, the way she wants you. Beyond anything humans have words for. She leaves her scent on your skin and wants to growl when you wash it away with artificial soaps and perfumes. She sucks bruises into every inch of you that anyone else could see.

She wants you to do the same. Wants to roll onto her back and expose her neck, and have you bite so hard you draw blood.

Ginger's wanting comes with teeth. What she is demands she sinks her teeth into things, that she draws blood. Even when she loves you. Because she loves you, maybe. She needs to leave a mark on you. She needs to always be there. She needs the same from you.

Needs you to leave scars on her that she can touch when you're not around. Proof that you were there. Proof that you're coming back. You don't carve your name into things and then abandon them. When you own things you keep them.

When you're gone the world goes dim and cold. She couldn't survive in a world without you. She wouldn't even attempt it. What would be the fucking point?

"We're a pair. We belong to each other. Always, yeah?"

[abliys]

Idk if yall watched we bare bears but i used to have a really massive crush on her.. kinda explains it now

[rocketqueen1989x]

STOP ! HES SO CUTE 🥲🥲

[neocitycafe]

Nightwatch (Mark)

♡ genre: ginger tea - sageuk/historical; a little bit of everything--romantic fluff, soft smut, light angst

✎ words: 7.5k

✓ summary/notes: Mark Lee, loyal guard to the crown prince, unexpectedly meets court nurse!reader in a palace where everyone has dreams a little bigger than their roles seem to allow. Featuring small appearances by other NCT members: prince Jaemin, illustrator Renjun, royal physician Doyoung, and more. Inspired in part by Neo Zone’s “Kick It” concept.... (a few extended thoughts here) Enjoy!!

P.S. I realize that the name “Mark” is out of place for a historical Korean setting… Please imagine that there’s some sort of inside joke or creative story where Lee Minhyung’s nickname became Mark :P @nctsworld tagging you, cee! thank you for the endless fun chatter and fangirling every day, and for the real encouragement too, through the years.

˚·̩̩̥͙‧⁺˚*･༓☾　One: Medicine at Midnight　☽༓･*˚⁺‧·̩̩̥͙˚

When you sneak into the herbal pantry room at half past midnight, the last thing you expect is someone else already there, rummaging through the musty drawers. A lone candle casts strange shadows dancing between the herb sachets hanging from the ceiling.

Holding your breath, you map out the fastest path back to where you slept. You had waited until your fellow court nurses were sound asleep, tiptoed past Doyoung’s quarters and his light snoring, and followed slivers of moonlight on the familiar floorboards.

You turn to make your escape, but it’s too late. The person in the room spins around and blows out the candle lighting the room. He pins you against the wall and sends the surrounding room into dizzying darkness.

“What are you doing here?” His voice is low and commanding, and his body is held like a string strung taut, ready to meet its target. As your eyes adjust to the dimness, you find that he’s wearing all black. Gold threads swirl into the figure of a dragon, glimmering softly across his chest. He must be a royal guard. You’d never spoken to one before. “Who are you? And what are you doing here?” He repeats himself and tightens his hold around your wrist.

You whisper your name, keeping your head bowed. “I- I work here, sir. Nurse under royal physician Kim Doyoung.”

“Ah, I’m sorry. Lee Mark. Eastern Palace.” You look up to meet shining eyes and a face softer than the voice it held. For a moment, you’re mesmerized. In his eyes, stars twinkle with a youthful wonder that you didn’t expect to discover there. You realize your position and cast your gaze downwards again.

Mark takes in your lashes, the quiver in your lip, the loose white cotton wrapped around your shoulders. He draws a quick breath. You must be the one. The court nurse Prince Jaemin keeps talking about. The one who brews seemingly magical healing drafts and whose laugh is like a breeze on a hot summer’s day. Noticing your proximity and your lack of proper attire, he backs away and the warmth of his hands leaves you.

You’re grateful the palace guard doesn’t question further about why you are here for medicine in the middle of the night. But to direct attention elsewhere… “And may I ask what brings you at this hour, naeuri?”

He smiles sheepishly before pushing back his right sleeve, revealing several cuts and a scabbing elbow. “It hurts just a bit.” His voice is sweeter now, almost innocent. “Doyoung said I could let myself in and put something on to help with this. As long as I tell him what exactly I took. I didn’t know we’d finish training so late after hours.”

It looks like it hurts more than a bit. You wonder if they are battle scars, but you save the questions. You find a small bowl of water, the correct ingredients for a salve, and fresh linen to clean and dress the wounds. Mark expects to wince when you press down on his arm but instead, a feeling of cool spreads through his elbow.

Maybe it’s the quiet of the night and tight space that makes Mark feel like he can let down his guard and trust you with anything. “Actually, I got like this tripping on my own feet this morning. Nothing heroic. But don’t tell anyone. I’ll never hear the end of it if Donghyuck finds out.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell.” You laugh softly, and it does seem like a breeze on a warm day, Mark can’t help but think to himself. It reminds him of the lightness of his younger years, before palace life, duties, and always being on watch.

You almost share your secret too, with the way he smiles and asks about the cooling ointment, intrigued by how you made it. But after he leaves, you creep back to the medicine drawers. You take a fistful of what you were looking for and hide it in a pocket you’d sewn inside your skirts.

˚·̩̩̥͙‧⁺˚*･༓☾　Two: Night Watch Walks　☽༓･*˚⁺‧·̩̩̥͙˚

You try to drop a silver coin into Renjun’s palm, but he pushes your hand away.

“Please, no need! I promise I’ll get it to your mother.”

“It’s the home closest to the lake. My father’s usually fishing before dawn, but by midday he’ll stop by with lunch.” You keep rambling, and Renjun tsks impatiently but good-naturedly.

“I know how important this is to you.”

It’s not the first time Renjun is doing a delivery for you. He has also transcribed, illustrated, and read letters for you. He did this all under the guise of selling parchment pouches and bags needed for drying herbs, of course. He slips away with the setting sun.

Most of the nurses had wrapped up for the evening and withdrawn to their quarters early, glad for the extra rest. But your mind is a storm cloud. You’d seen firsthand how the queen barely recovered in time from her ailments last spring. You hope your father described your mother’s condition with accuracy and that the combination of herbs is correct. It was always dark when you picked them out of Doyoung’s drawers, relying on your muscle memory for where everything was stored. One ingredient is very rare and expensive, and you pray Renjun doesn’t get delayed, or worse, found out.

“Are you following me?” A voice shakes you, and you’re surprised to see Mark a few steps away across the courtyard. You had wandered with no destination and found yourself with the guard you met last week.

“No… Just taking a walk because I couldn’t sleep.” He nods in response. His eyes scan the surroundings and he keeps walking, but you feel him slow his gait for you.

“Well, I’m on night watch duty.”

“Then I’m on night watch duty too,” you reply.

“Oh, you are?”

“Yes, making sure you don’t trip over your own feet again.”

Mark stops and laughs. “It was a one time thing!”

“How’s the elbow?”

It has healed up nicely and the rest of your path around the Eastern Palace is spent getting to know Mark. You stay one step behind him, landing your foot where his shadow would’ve been in the day. There’s something comfortable about being together, and you almost forget about your worries. Mark’s voice is like gentle rain, a pitter-patter, interspersed with an occasional giggle, and you could listen to it forever.

Mark doesn’t trip once following the familiar route around the palace grounds. But he notices the beating of his heart, faster than usual for the pace he was walking.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You find yourself walking with Mark the next night, and the one after the next. It’s like your feet are naturally pointed towards him. You learn that Mark enjoys writing and poetry. He sometimes gets lost in his thoughts. His nose gets scrunched up in an endearing way when he’s too focused on something. He is skilled with his hands, especially with shooting arrows, but a bit clumsy with everything else. You are impressed that Mark is part of multiple units in the palace, and you admire how upright and hardworking he is. He makes you want to strive to be a better person yourself. You understand why he was selected as one of the crown prince’s closest guards.

“If you enjoy language and writing, maybe you can become an author and publish some poems?”

Mark shakes his head. “I have one job for life. Protect the prince, the palace, the city.”

“But what if you could?”

Mark wants to tell you he has started writing more in the past few weeks. Late at night, when he can’t stop thinking about you. Instead, what he says is, “But you know I can’t.”

“Alright then…” You would come back to this but you change the subject for now. “I was wondering, is Prince Na as handsome as the court ladies say he is?” Mark’s eyes become comically round at your question.

“I hope you were about to say he’s even more handsome than they say he is?”

It’s dark out, but the sweeping royal blue of the crown prince’s clothing is hard to miss. You freeze and hold a deep bow, but Jaemin waves it away, as if dismissing the formalities. His smile is swoonworthy, if you’ve ever seen one that fits that description. The corners of his eyes crinkle in mischief.

“I need a word with you,” the prince nods towards Mark, and you bow three more times, backing away.

Mark waits until you are out of earshot, the anxieties surfacing unbidden. Did Jaemin have his eyes set on you? Mark pictures you with lavish gifts that only a crown prince could afford. Or better yet, the prince could grant you status and freedom, he could support a large, happy, growing family—

“What is she like?” Jaemin’s question breaks his thoughts. And then all the things that Mark loves about you come rushing to his mind.

“Yes, well, she is very bright. And genuine. Kind of daring. Creative. So funny sometimes, even when she doesn’t mean to be. Carefree, beautiful… very beautiful.” Mark gushes almost reverently before realizing he may have misspoke. Prince Jaemin liked to keep it casual, but Mark wanted to show his due respect. “Um, she is a loyal servant to the kingdom,” he tacks on lamely at the end, trying to sound more professional.

“Be happy.” Jaemin’s words are loaded with meaning, and he grins at Mark’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “It’s a royal command.”

Mark isn’t sure, but he thinks his long-time friend sounds resigned beneath it all. Despite Jaemin’s smile, he could tell that it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You see, Na Jaemin had many things: a seal that dictated the law of the land, fine teas from the east, sweet tangerines from Jeju island, the smoothest of silk robes, and more. But the privilege to love? Not something he could place a stamp on, taste, or touch.

He wants to ask you, the miracle court nurse, is there not a draught that makes the heart a little lighter? A concoction to soothe the soul? But for now, it satisfies him to make the romance of those around him blossom. He smiles at Mark’s giddy expression, the image of one of the sharpest palace guards now bashful, shy, and in love.

˚·̩̩̥͙‧⁺˚*･༓☾　Three: Holiday　☽༓･*˚⁺‧·̩̩̥͙˚

You’re shaking while staring at the letter in your hands. You can’t read your father’s script, but Renjun assures you the message says your mother is now feeling much better. They followed your exact directions and her fever broke the next day. Renjun smiles as you tuck the paper away. He had always loved painting. As a child, he found scraps of parchment and spent hours recreating the world with strokes of ink. But his family’s paper-making business needed his support, and he put his passion aside as a hobby. Being able to illustrate your instructions and messages feels like a dream come true he never knew he could achieve. He has a chance to paint the fine lines of sesame leaves, the mixed white and yellow blossoms of crown daisies, and the rough texture of milkwort root. You thank Renjun profusely, telling him he’s a lifesaver with his artwork, and you exchange the next secret package and note. A neighbor’s baby has been colicky and you recommend a tummy-friendly catmint and fennel tea.

You know it is wrong to take from the royal physician’s storage, but these things aren’t being used. You can’t help the elation bubbling up in your chest knowing that people were feeling better because of what you were trying.

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” You look up at the familiar voice. You want to gush all about it. It’s not that you don’t want to share with him. But Mark is so good, so honest. He waits until you finish your duties to invite you on night time walks now. With him, it’s always responsibilities first. You make sure the fire’s out, the lid covering the stone pot completely, before following him towards the Eastern Palace pond.

“Well, it’s my holiday tomorrow! I’m visiting my home, the fishing village by Resonance Lake!” While not the exact reason, this is true, and it is cause for your joy. It’s one of your few days off for the year, granted in exchange for your service to the kingdom.

“Ah, I see.” You notice that wistfulness tinges his voice. “Taeil said that there’s supposed to be a full moon tomorrow night. I was hoping to see it with you. But of course, you can see it from where you’ll be too!”

You feel your cheeks heat up at the comment. You want to tell him that seeing the full moon together sounds lovely, and you’ll be sure to return to the palace before the Western Gate closes for the night. But he’s being called away by another guard, ending your walk abruptly. He gives you a small nod and then you watch as Mark speeds away like an arrow, silent and unswerving.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Home is running into open arms, tearing up when your father tells you you’re his pride, and holding your mother’s weak hand. Her health has improved dramatically, but she still needs rest, so she sends you out to the market to enjoy the sunshine on her behalf. Your father kept one of his best catches from the morning instead of selling it, and you promise to fetch the freshest vegetables to complement it for dinner.

While the town market does not carry the fine ingredients for a king’s many side dishes, it does have the goods that local commoners scrounge up to barter and trade. Seasonal wild greens, mushrooms and roots of all kinds, fresh and dried. Just thinking of the colors and scents has your mind drawing connections. Bean sprouts for soup, maybe some bellflower root to boost immunity...

Someone steps in front of you, and you almost knock into their chest. Instead of his black guard’s outfit, it’s a jewel-toned hanbok he’s dressed in and a commoner’s hat shielding his shining eyes from the sun. With high cheekbones ready to rise with his laughter, he looks so dashing you think you may be daydreaming.

“Mark!” He breaks into the hugest grin. “How are you here... Are you following me?”

“Nope. Just taking a walk because I couldn’t sleep.” He gives you the most dramatic wink, and you laugh because it’s midday and you’ve never seen him like this. “Actually, I took a holiday today too.” Prince Jaemin was more than happy to authorize it, as long as Mark helped him sneak out for a day of fun too. (He took off with another guard, Lee Jeno.)

Mark lets you pull him along through the merchant stalls and he claps along to the beat of traveling pansori performers, happy to shed his usual role and responsibilities. He becomes just a young man with the lovely one he wants to pursue.

The youthful wonder in his eyes is back, and when he sees the way your eyes light up too, his heart wants nothing more than to be the reason. He plays point-and-learn encyclopedia with you and all that you see.

“What are those funny things?”

“Ginger, silly. But I like to get them from another lady. And these are eggs, you know. The thing you have for breakfast sometimes.”

“I know what eggs look like! I can cook them!”

“Debatable.”

He pouts and points at some whole grains. “What about those?”

“These are good for your digestion.” You place a hand on your stomach as if to demonstrate. He points to the next row, curious about the bottles of dark liquid kept in the shade. “Ah, eel extract. That’s good for…” You gesture a bit lower and he gawks.

“What?!”

“At least that's what I heard. Want to try?” He shakes his head quickly and you think you hear him mutter, “Don’t need that…”

The ginger seller is chatting with another customer about unrest in the east, and Mark tilts his head in interest. His visit to town in regular garb is not without a mission after all. He gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze. His eyes have dimmed to something more serious, but with the softness of an apology. “Hey, can I find you after dinner?”

You nod, understanding his signals. “Okay, the lake. By the last house, around the corner of the village.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Mark is true to his word. You’ve only made yourself comfortable in the grass looking out to the lake for a few minutes when he joins you, plopping himself down.

You can tell he doesn’t want to talk about his work, so you don’t pry. Instead, you let him ask all the questions. You share memories of swimming in the lake when you were young, the first time you gathered berries from the forest outside of the palace and almost got lost, how you wish to sneak out to see the cosmos flowers next autumn. You conclude that it seems like your penchant for trying new things always gets you into trouble. Mark reassures you that they do make for marvelous stories though.

“Remember when we talked about how I’d be a writer if I had the chance to do anything? How about you?”

“Me?” You pause, eyes following the ringed patterns left by dragonflies touching the still water. “I’d become the best physician. Even better than Kim Doyoung.” It’s exhilarating to say it out loud.

“You want to take his place as head royal physician?”

“Oh. No, not in the palace.”

“Then where?”

“I don’t know.” You’d never allowed yourself to dream what you wanted any further. You turn back to gaze in the direction of the town, thoughts drifting towards the bustle of the market earlier in the day.

“I think you’d be amazing.” Mark’s voice brings you back.

“I’m not amazing now?”

“That you are too.” He transforms your joke into sincerity, just like that. It’s his turn to pause this time, and you move to face him. His breath warms your cheek with how close you are, and his eyes are brimming with something that you can’t name. “I… I’ve come to care for you,” he confesses. He takes your hand in his.

It’s love. It’s adoration. It’s a little fear for what may come. It’s hope. It’s desire.

You lace your fingers together and Mark feels that his heart may burst. “I care for you too, Mark.”

The full moon rises, but both of you are too busy to notice tonight.

˚·̩̩̥͙‧⁺˚*･༓☾　Four: The Space Above the Library　☽༓･*˚⁺‧·̩̩̥͙˚

“Where are we going?” Mark’s tugging you off course from the path you usually walk.

“A secret!”

“What about your duties?”

“It’s Yeongho’s turn for the night watch. He’s the One Two Seven squad captain, and he says we need to rethink the security. Something about northeastern borders. This way.”

One moment you’re outside, at the back of the palace library, and the next Mark has leapt on top of the roof. He reaches down and lifts you with surprising ease. You hang on, letting out a squeak and hooking your arms around his neck as he holds you snug against his chest. He carries you further upwards and you close your eyes tight, trusting him. After a few more minutes of lurching and movement, you feel Mark settle down. Could you be on the rooftop? He places you in his lap, your back against his chest.

“Whoa, where’d you learn to scale buildings like that--?” The question dies on your lips as you open your eyes to look out to the view spanning before you. Mark tightens his arms around you.

From this vantage point above the library, your eyes follow the path of a crane as it takes flight from the palace pond. It glides upwards towards the western gate where the sun has already set with colors between lavender and forget-me-nots and into the forests. And further, the expanse of N City beyond the palace gates unfolds, lights glittering like fireflies. A river courses into a lake, the lake by your home that looks like a tear-shaped puddle from this distance. The stars are rising and Mark kisses your hair. The moment is perfect.

“Oh, I got something for you,” you tell him, trying to sound laid back. An excited anticipation bubbles up in your voice anyway. You turn in Mark’s hold so you’re facing him and straddling his lap, and you try not to notice how he has trouble shifting into a comfortable position. From Mark’s perspective, you’re very close and warm. He makes a poor attempt at composing himself and keeps one arm around your back, his free hand taking the little package you fish out of your pockets.

Renjun had said he could loan you one of his old ones from home, but you insisted he find you a new one and a nice one at that. It cost more of your allowance than it should, but Mark’s curious expression is worth more than every bright coin you owned.

He slowly unrolls the ink brush from its cloth wraps, jaw dropping in silence, admiring the smooth wooden handle and soft bristles. “For all the stories you will tell,” you breathe softly.

Mark’s mind is often filled with so many words, but right now he is rendered speechless. He carefully places the gift into a pocket of his own and draws you in to thank you with his lips.

The kiss starts sweet and strong like steaming honey citron tea, deepening when Mark tilts his head and brings his hands up to hold your face. When he tastes you with his tongue, it’s like the world around you fades to night and he is the only light you see. Mark shivers as you card your fingers through his hair. You lean in so you’re as close as possible, feeling aware of every part of you that’s touching, the heat blooming between you, his unmistakable excitement now pressing into you, and your hearts beating rapidly.

You tug on his collar, wanting to trail your kisses down the column of his neck and further, but Mark untangles himself from you and holds you at a distance. He swallows thickly. “I am a man of honor. Let me wed you first.”

“Mark, bed me…” You barely believe the words coming out of your own mouth, but you know you want him desperately. “Please.”

At your plea, his eyes grow wide, and then they narrow, swirling with desire. He makes a noise between a chuckle and a groan and moves to get to his feet. For a moment, a pang of rejection creeps into your chest, but Mark reaches for your hand to help you up too. He can’t believe how easy it is for him to give in to you, but he knows he wants you too, with his whole heart. “Come on then!” His smile is boyish and free, and you are quick to follow, treading carefully along the eaves and through a well-disguised door at the side of the roof. With you, Mark feels all the straight lines he has built up loosening into the loops and curls of ribbons. For you, he dares to step out for a new adventure.

Mark’s space above the library is plain. You spot a few scrolls and stacks of books, and you wonder whether his thoughts and writing fill the pages. You wonder what kinds of stories he has been reading lately. But those are questions for later. You fall first into the place where he sleeps and pull again at the fabric of his collar, until he’s almost lying on top of you. Mark is careful with his weight, holding himself up on his palms by your face, and he pauses to ask, “Do you trust me?”

“Completely.”

You try to pull Mark’s top off, but the sleeves get caught on his elbows, and you both giggle, momentarily breaking the heady rush you were in. Once he has peeled off the rest of his guard’s uniform, you stare unabashedly at how lean and toned he is beneath his clothing. With you, Mark realizes he doesn’t feel shy or embarrassed. He feels free to be goofy, to make mistakes, to be himself. He appreciates how you eagerly touch him. You trace a star-shaped scar on his chest and kiss the tiny moles on the side of his neck and near the corner of his lips.

There are too many knots and ribbons tied in a hanbok, Mark grumbles aloud. You shake with laughter because really, it’s more complicated to put on and pretty easy to remove. Slowly, he loosens the bow on your chest, admiring every part of you revealed, kissing your skin reverently, before pulling at the one around your waist and marveling more at the wonder of you.

It’s a bit drafty and cold when you’re unwrapped and bare under him, but Mark’s lips are soon emblazoned along your jaw, your neck, your shoulders. His fingers are hot as they dance across your skin, down your sides and dipping below, between your thighs and finding your desire for him evident. He reaches lower and trails a fingertip along your inner thigh. His touch is slow and light, drawing upwards toward your center. You realize he’s writing something on your skin when he whispers “love you” close to your ear, sealing the words into your heart. Mark’s finger trails upwards along your other thigh, tracing shapes and lines. And this time, he says “forever.”

Mark knows you’re eager and ready for more, so he lets you help guide his hand until he’s at the perfect spot. He begins to draw circles earnestly where you want him, watching you intently as you sigh in pleasure.

“Good?”

“Mm-hmm. Very.” You extend the “very” and your eyes flutter closed at the feeling. Mark’s so good as a person, as a friend, as a lover, that you’re almost overwhelmed by it all. He spells out his love for you, over and again.

When you reach for him after some time, longing to please him too, Mark simply moves his hands to hold yours in his own. He presses his body down closer to slide his length against you without entering you, and the both of you moan at the friction and new sensations. Heat courses through you, warm in your belly, right down to your toes, and back to your core again as he moves against you. Back and forth he rocks, your fingers clasping his more tightly, stars spinning above you, until you’re coming, coming undone beneath him, chanting his name. Mark slows down until you’ve caught your breath. He untangles his hands from yours to reach up and smooth the hair from your forehead.

“Will you have me?” You lift your hips in response to his question, digging your fingertips into his back, pulling him close.

“I’m yours.”

You let out a gasp as Mark presses the head of his cock into you. He’s careful and tender, kissing your breath away before moving to push in all the way. With effort, you open your eyes to look up into his. You hold each other and behold each other, connected from beginning to end. He drags along your warmth, languid and loving, and dives back in again.

Mark could write verses, he could write volumes, he could write songs about you.

˚·̩̩̥͙‧⁺˚*･༓☾　Five: Embroidery Needles　☽༓･*˚⁺‧·̩̩̥͙˚

Kim Doyoung immediately reports the missing contents of his storage shelves. Rose hips, cinnamon bark, and licorice root. Not to mention, the garlic, gingko, ginger, even ginseng! The contents that had vanished far outweighed what the palace guards who occasionally dropped in without notice could take. At first he thought it may be just that, but completing his personal annual inspection revealed otherwise. In retrospect, you should have known that Doyoung would be the type to measure and catalog all of his work. Perhaps you were getting too carried away in your fantasies, distracted by the romance of your dreams.

Doyoung doesn’t mean to be an exacting person; he is just an exact person. But he wasn’t always this way. The voices in his memories remind him why.

“Must’ve wasted them, feeding it to those beasts he keeps!”

“That little thief. Always thought he looked different from everyone else.”

“Glad he and his family were exiled.”

Hot tears well up just remembering it, and Doyoung bites the inside of his cheek to keep the anger down. His best friend in his younger years. Lee Taeyong. Taeyong who cared so much for life, for animals, large and small. Taeyong who once placed a tiny green frog in Doyoung’s palm. It scared Doyoung half to death, but Taeyong kept going on about how cute it was. When the queen’s herbal remedies had gone missing, there were no records kept at the time. The scheming political officials were quick to separate themselves from the situation, shifting blame on the innocent. Taeyong, their scapegoat, was branded as a thief and banished to hard labor. Doyoung vowed to catch the actual culprits next time. He would take careful notes and calculated steps if he needed to. He rose in the ranks as head physician over the years, hoping he could one day gain the power or connections to exonerate his friend.

Word travels to the crown prince about trouble with one of the court nurses stealing from the physician’s storeroom. Naturally, word gets to one the crown prince’s closest guards too.

Mark wants to understand, but he can’t afford to. His role is to guard the prince, and his team needs his complete focus and commitment, especially now. He had shown you his everything. His favorite spot to watch the sun set, his corner above the library, his innermost thoughts, his whole being. The hurt and betrayal felt bitter like poison. He thinks back to your chance encounter which he so treasured in his memories, now tainted with the thought that you might have been in the act of stealing that very night. His brows furrow and he doesn’t notice how tightly his jaw is clenched. He’s torn between following the rules which condemn you as a thief and siding with his personal knowledge of what you are like. He wants to talk with you, but he can’t seem to find you in all the usual spots. And now he hardly has the time to look for you with his new schedule. The palace guards have ramped up on meetings, and he’s exhausted from splitting time between all the units he’s in. Jungwoo’s sword nearly nicks his neck when Mark realizes how far his thoughts had wandered. The more he aches, the further he pushes into his training, exerting the pent up emotion in combat practice.

Prince Na, having lost his sister to spies from a neighboring kingdom in childhood, had no room for deceitfulness. It was merciful enough that Doyoung would be the one to deal with you directly.

“Sir, I… I’m sorry I tried making something new and overcooked it and threw it out. I’m willing to make up for it. I also got some of the ingredients mixed up. I’ll wash up all the bowls for the next month. I’ll gather the roots too! I promise, I--”

“I don’t need your excuses. I thought better of you.”

You hate to admit it, but his words stung. Doyoung had been like a mentor to you.

Doyoung knew you never mixed up the ingredients though. He knew you could probably identify them without even seeing them. And your new concoctions often became the best remedies, never failures. As much as he was angry, he was not one to be cruel. After probing further and finding no other double-dealing plots or secret orders you were following, he lets out a long sigh and tells you his next orders.

You should have been grateful that you weren’t sentenced to something more serious, but you would rather lose your bi-annual rice stipend than this. Or reorganize all the drawers to the picky head physician’s standards. Instead, you are relegated to beginning embroidery. Embroidery! Not allowed near the food or medicine, and in a completely opposite wing of the palace. Doyoung warns you that all the guards are informed and will be watching you.

Oh but there is one palace guard who must not want to see you. Since the news broke, you haven't seen him anywhere. No night time walks, definitely no night time views, only emptiness in your chest and no place to run.

Would Mark misunderstand that you were only skin deep with him? You know that isn’t it, but you also know you broke his trust. You are a thief, no matter the intentions, but you feel a tangled mix of shame, anger, frustration, and a sense of powerlessness that you cannot unravel. You think it might be better for him not to be associated with you after all. You wonder if he regrets meeting you.

You have to ignore the many new inquiries that Renjun tries to deliver to you, telling him it’s no longer safe to make the exchanges. Worry creases his brows when even his beautiful new drawing of the cosmos field you want to visit one day brings no change in emotion to your face.

You do your best to pore into your daily tasks, but it’s monotonous work, embroidery, with nothing more exciting than occasionally pricking yourself with a needle. You curse under your breath.

But what hurts most, perhaps, is the blank expression and emptiness in his eyes the one time you finally do catch sight of each other across a hallway. It’s brief, like two strangers passing. And as you haul bolts of silk upon your shoulder, you will yourself to think that it’s the burden of the weight and the sharp-pointed embroidery needles. Actually, you are quite certain what hurts most.

˚·̩̩̥͙‧⁺˚*･༓☾　Six: Fire　☽༓･*˚⁺‧·̩̩̥͙˚

It’s that nightmare again. You’re falling from the library’s rooftop and into a bottomless lake. Mark’s sparkling eyes turn wounded, guarded, cold. What happens next is plunging into utter darkness and a numbing freeze taking over your limp body. But this time, the dream takes a turn. The waters around you swirl, sweltering hot, and start closing in. Instead of a deafening silence, voices are screaming. You try to decipher what they are saying, kicking to tread water and struggling to stay afloat.

“To the West Gate! To the West Gate!”

You jolt awake. The commotion of your dreams collides with reality. You piece together the hazy outline of Doyoung’s figure past the doorway amidst smoke and chaos. He’s shouting instructions, pushing people in one direction. The palace is under attack.

Crawling on your knees and holding a sleeve over your nose and mouth, you make it to the courtyard. White-gray ash and embers flicker through the air and you fight to breathe. You can’t see anything for a moment, but the wind picks up, carrying the thick smoke away. You turn to take in your surroundings and you stop in your tracks at what you find. In the exact opposite direction to the throngs of courtesans fleeing, an orange glow is consuming the Eastern Palace and the library right next to it, dark plumes of smoke billowing out.

The words of love, of history, tales of wonder, poetry and promises. Burning.

There’s nothing you can do but to cry out, “Mark!” Your lungs burn, and you struggle to stand to your feet and shove against the bodies of those trying to escape. “Mark!”

The singing of arrows across the air brings your focus sharply back to your feet on the ground and you find that you are being pushed along with the crowds, dragged towards the West Gate. And then you are running, into the forest, aimless, with tears streaming down your cheeks.

˚·̩̩̥͙‧⁺˚*･༓☾ Seven: Healing, Again ☽༓･*˚⁺‧·̩̩̥͙˚

The bitter, earthy scent of herbal infusions fills the temporarily transformed gisaeng house where you are working. Several of the women are already well versed in medical care, and all are ready to help. The house sits in the center of N city, near the market, an area easy to access and luckily, untouched by fire and the following destruction.

Days feel like weeks and weeks feel like days with the new routine you suddenly find yourself in. Early morning rounds with cool compress cloths to treat the ones with burns, gathering the berries and calendula flowers before the sun got too hot, brewing teas in the afternoon, a hurried supper so you can continue your work before it got too dark.

The time is long, but the moon has grown from waning crescent to waxing gibbous again before you know it, with the many people that come and go after receiving the care they need. The citizens are healing, gaining strength to rebuild again.

It’s late one evening when you see from the corner of your eye, an unmistakable design on a visitor entering. Midnight black, silky fabric with the emblem of a dragon. The ladle in your hand clatters to the floor and you pull up your skirts to run to the entrance.

As you get closer, yes, it’s the gold embroidery, yes, it’s the palace uniform. But he’s taller in stature. He’s not the one you’re looking for. Your steps come to a slow stop. Jaehyun recognizes you immediately and is equally quick to spare you of the suspense.

“We haven’t seen him yet.”

When your knees give out, he holds onto you and lets your tears soak his clothing.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It is a bizarre sight to see the crown prince enter town, not supported on a fancy palanquin but on the arms of Doyoung and Jeno, all in commoners’ clothing. You’re on the side of the street when you spot them, and you freeze in place before remembering to bow deeply. Jeno motions you to straighten. There’s no need to reveal identities, he whispers into your ear. Nodding with understanding, you help them to the house and find the nearest available space for Prince Na.

Word had spread that a powerful shaman was practicing in the center of town, but Doyoung had an idea of who that might be. He shares this with you with the slightest of gummy smiles. It took them a tumultuous journey to hide and travel safely, and it would take too much time to tell the tale. The prince’s health needs more immediate help first. You’re grateful the lost prince is alive, if not well, but the questions snowball in your mind, a thousand desperate thoughts begging to be answered. How did they escape? Did he survive too? But Doyoung explains the prince’s condition, symptoms, and what they’ve tried so far, and you need to pay utmost attention. Jaemin must have inhaled a large amount of smoke. His breathing is weak. He’s unable to speak. You fetch a jar of honey water to help with calming his cough and think of a few things that may reduce the swelling that must be inside his chest.

You learn from Jeno that the One Two Seven Squad is regathering. Though he doesn’t share many details, you read between the lines that what had happened was an unsuccessful coup. You hull soybeans while you talk, using low voices to avoid bothering the patients in your care, the water sloshing and providing cover for the classified information. Prince Na is asleep now, but Jeno’s gaze is fixed on him as he speaks.

Though the city is safe for now, he and the others are still on high alert. They would keep Prince Na hidden until they strategize their next move. You remember that Jeno used to train with Mark when they were younger, so you finally gather your courage to ask whether he heard any news, heart thumping hard.

“Ah, Mark… We parted ways just a few days ago.” Jeno’s voice always holds the most even, balanced tone. You can’t decipher what that meant.

“Parted ways?”

“Yes, he said he had somewhere he needed to visit.” You breathe out the breath that you had been holding, relief washing over you.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

If he could put it simply, you are a vision. Mark made his way back to the city in sorrow and disappointment, to where he knew his colleagues would bring the prince, not knowing it would lead to you. He had thought he lost you, just as you had thought you’d lost him.

Your back is to him, but he could identify your shadow anywhere. You have one palm against your forehead and the other on a child’s, checking her temperature. They call it your healing touch, your intuition, your experience, or your willingness to try, but for Mark, he knows it’s all your heart. He regrets ever doubting your intentions. He thought he was serving the kingdom, but all along, you… you were truly serving its people.

Mark waits until you’ve finished your work for the night, not unlike many nights before, in a different setting that feels so long ago with the events that had transpired. He knows you’ve found your place at last. One without rigid roles and gates to keep you back. He only hopes that he can be by your side again.

After whispering instructions to the nurse taking the next shift, you wrap your arms around yourself and rub them up and down for some warmth. You’re about to start on a brisk night time walk outdoors to clear your thoughts when he leaps from the rooftop and into your line of sight.

You think you may be delirious. But you amble towards the figure of Mark anyways until you’re standing right in front of him. You open your mouth to say the first thing on your mind, a heartbroken “I’m so sorry” on the tip of your tongue, but Mark doesn’t let you finish your sentence. He throws an arm around you. And when you circle your arms around him tightly and lean into him too, he kisses you full on the lips. You relish in the feeling: passionate, bold, connected once more. You open up and let him in. Then gently, he draws back to kiss your eyelashes, wet with tears, only stopping to murmur, “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here. I’m sorry I took so long to return to you.”

You move to press closer into his embrace but look down to find his left arm in the way, poorly wrapped and held against his chest. He is the definition of a hero and a protector, and you want nothing more than to be his healing balm from now on. “Oh, Mark… I’ll make it better. I promise I’ll make it better.”

“You will. I know you will.”

You have many questions and Mark answers as you walk together, the moon shining brightly above.

“Where’d you go these last few days?”

“To the lake. To your home. I didn’t know where to find you.” You look up at Mark in wonder, and he pulls you closer with the arm around your waist.

“The roads have been restored?”

“Partly.”

“How… how are they?”

“Your parents and the villagers are safe. They… we… I thought you were gone.” It’s your turn to give him a squeeze. “We can send them a letter first thing tomorrow morning to let them know you are well too.”

“How’d you get hurt?” You start to inspect him, touching his shoulder gingerly and feeling the muscle in his upper arm.

He turns sheepish and glances away. “I actually tripped and fell on my arm when saying bye to your parents. It was very embarrassing. Please don’t tell anyone!”

You stop in your tracks and shake your head in laughter, glad it wasn’t too serious after all. Then you are pulling on his shirt collar so he knows what you want. “At least it wasn’t your writing arm, I guess.”

He’s glad too. And he knows there will be many stories to write about, with you. Mark leans in to close the distance again. Because sometimes, often-times, kisses are even better than words, and kisses heal even better than medicine at midnight.

˚·̩̩̥͙‧⁺˚*･༓☾ the end ☽༓･*˚⁺‧·̩̩̥͙˚

Thank you for reading! Hope your heart is full of love and wonder, and that you may dream a little past what you believe is possible.

Writing references: Joseon female physicians uinyeo | historical drama/sageuk vocab | korean herbs 1 & 2

[konigsblog]

photos that remind me of könig / my face hc for him

[slasherscream]

I love your writing! And you just get my craziness and character obsessions. I was thinking what would happen if reader had a bruise cheek or lip, and refuse to tell them what happen. Then they discover that the reader was the one who beat the shit out of someone for saying something about their partner, and how proud yet pissed off they will be. I’m think Crazy Ass Girls Gang, need more possessive and protective FMC. Thank you!

warnings: yandere behavior - YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

Tiffany Valentine - Tricks you into thinking she’s gonna be normal about it. She purses her lips when you won’t tell her anything, but quietly rushes off to get the first-aid kit. WATCH OUT! You have just activated a trap card: emotional manipulation. Her most powerful weapon. She’ll silently and dotingly take care of you. Disinfectant. Gentle Hands. Careful bandaging. Petulant silence. Painkillers lovingly dropped in your hand. Big sad eyes staring up at you. When you inevitably break and tell her what happened she could melt! She does melt, straight into your arms. You’re gonna be covered in lipstick by the time she’s through with you. Her hero. Don’t worry, she’ll help you clean up… eventually. Later, you’ll have to help her clean up too. It was so romantic of you to fight for her honor…. But she'd never let someone live after they hurt you, silly.

Jordan Li - Won’t drop the line of questioning until you’re damn near ready to fight her too. She hates that you’re hurt. She loves that you wanted to defend her. Jordan gets a lot of criticism, sometimes it seems never ending. The fact that you feel so strongly about protecting her, not because you think she can’t fight her own battles… but because she shouldn’t have to do it all alone? It means a lot. Still, she doesn’t want you getting into fights. Let alone fights over her. It doesn’t matter how badly you hurt the other person. If there are marks on you Jordan is going to go find them for round two. “You like to put hands on people?” Words spoken seconds before disaster (she’s ignoring the fact that you started the fight. Jordan could give a shit about semantics.)

Nancy Downs - Don’t wanna tell her? Cool! Get ready to experience her favorite couple’s activity besides shoplifting: abusing your coven bond to read your mind! Hooray! It will hurt badly. Because Nancy always makes it hurt when you keep her out on purpose, or hide things from her (or when she thinks you’re doing that.) But don’t worry, after she realizes how sweet you really were, she’ll make you feel all better. Cooing over you as much as she ever allows herself to coo. Cleaning your cuts. Healing you with her magic. Trying to ease the fever that always comes whenever she uses your bond in a way she shouldn’t. She thinks you’re the stupidest, sweetest thing. You’re witches. You don’t have to use your fists anymore to win fights. She leaves you with the coven and goes to enact a witch’s vengeance on whoever dared to lay a finger on you. 

Jennifer Check - You’ll try not to tell her but she immediately starts making such wild accusations you have to just come out and admit to why you’re injured. “I can smell someone on you. If you wanted to get beat up to get your rocks off you should’ve just told me, I’d happily beat the shit out of you.” Start talking quickly! She looks like she’s about to start fulfilling that nonexistent wish now. Once you tell her she has to suppress a smile. She’s a demon. She doesn’t need you playing knight in shining armor over what some jealous, mouth-breathing, loser is saying about her… but, it’s kinda hot that you did. She’ll show you just how hot she thinks it is. Then you two are gonna take a nice little drive, and you’re gonna point out the jackass who put bruises on you. She’ll fuck you again after she’s full. “Thanks for finding my next meal, baby.” 

Victoria Neuman - Victoria expects you to have better self control than this. Not telling her what happened isn’t an option. Ever. The look on her face when you first try and insist that nothing happened is enough for you to quietly admit you got into a fight. Her blood pressure sky-rockets. You two have an image to maintain. You’re her spouse. She has enough problems as it is. She’s thinking of viral videos, nightly news, seedy gossip magazines doing think-pieces: do we really want this person standing behind the president as first spouse? When you tell her you fought one of the Boys for trying to convince you she’s a monster? Well…. She goes a little softer. Victoria will pull you into the circle of her arms and thank you for being so loyal to her. She means it from the bottom of her heart. She’s also dreaming of the day she can pop their fucking heads. Touching you. Talking to you. Trying to turn you against her… they’ve crossed her last line. 

Carrie White - The moment she sees you she’s in hysterics: “Oh, Angel, what happened?!” You’re really gonna sit there and not tell her anything? She’s worked herself into an anxiety attack within seconds. She can hardly open the first aid kit, she’s shaking so bad. The sound of your voice is always so soothing for her that you’ll start telling her the story just to have something to say. She listens quietly while she cleans you up. You’ll have to pull her into your lap before long, and kiss her gently. You’re all she has in the world and it scares her to death to think of you putting yourself in unnecessary danger. You’ll fall asleep curled into each other’s arms. You whisper soft reassurances: “Nothing’s gonna happen to me / I’ll always be here.” Carrie tries her best to listen. You’ll wake up alone, but wander downstairs just as Carrie walks through the front door. She wanted to get her knight in shining armor some breakfast from your favorite diner down the street. She watches you eat with a big smile, and thinks about how she’ll have to burn those clothes in the trunk of the car. She couldn't risk them trying to hurt you again.

Ginger Fitzgerald - Don’t piss her off. If you don’t tell her exactly who touched you she’ll rip the entire city apart. Women, children, men, everyone. Anyone. “Do you want me to do that? Huh, baby? Is that what you want me to do?” No? Then start talking. She won’t be able to see through the blood-lust long enough to take care of you. As soon as you say a name Ginger’s out the door. She’ll only return once she’s thoroughly covered in viscera and gore. She’s still dripping with it when she crawls into bed with you, smearing the blood across your body. She’ll lick at any injury you have, until they’re clean and closed, your skin smooth and unblemished. She’s the only thing that can leave marks on you. She’ll kill anything else that tries. “You don’t have to lift a finger for me, baby. If you want someone hurt, I’ll do it. I’ll do anything for you.” Just run your fingers through her hair and try not to cringe as your fingertips get stained red. 

Patricia (Split) - She’s devastated by the state you come home in after she allows you to go out on a walk all by yourself for the first time since you were…. taken. You’d been so good for her. So obedient. So sweet. She wanted to reward you. And now your eye is starting to bruise, and your clothes are all askew, and your knuckles are swollen. Her calm demeanor cracks, and it’s a struggle to stay in the light. She takes deep breaths, centers herself. None of the others are what you need, right now. You need her. She strips you down, runs you a bath, won’t even let you hold the washcloth. It’s only as she’s patting you dry that she can force out words, finally: “What happened to you, sweet thing, hmm?” The guilt nearly brings her to tears. Months of keeping you close and look at what just a pinch of negligence has done to you… You try to assuage her guilt. You tell her you ran into a neighbor, who’d seen the two of you out together once Patricia trusted you enough to accompany her for little things like grocery trips. You say it’s your fault you came back to her in this condition. That you just couldn’t stand the vile things they said about her. Her face drops into an expression you’ve never seen. It’s gone in an instant, replaced by that comforting, ever present smile she wears for you. She takes you by the chin and kisses your forehead: “My little sweet thing. Playing knight, are you?” You had her love before. Tentatively, you had something like trust. Now Patricia trusts you completely. Even so, you won’t be going out alone again. Patricia trusts you. But it’s clear she can’t trust the world to be gentle with you. Don’t worry, though. All you need to do is ask, when you want to feel the sun on your face. You never see that neighbor again, no matter what time of day you and Patricia go walking.

A/N: thank you!!! we need more batshit crazy women with something wrong with them! Batshit crazy women with something wrong with them unite! if you enjoyed these headcanons consider reblogging, leaving a reply, or an anon! a writer's fuel is engagement. Xoxoxo