You know, he’s always asking if you’ve eaten today, if you’ve drunk enough water, if you’re wearing enough layers. Typical boyfriend stuff. Only it’s not. No, far from it.
Because he does so by telling you off. Pulling a sweater over your little party dress to conceal you. It’s cold outside, he’ll say, kissing your forehead with a smile—he wouldn’t want you getting the sniffles. And besides, you can undress for him when the two of you’re alone—there’s no need to do it in front of the world.
Scolding you for getting too drunk even when you’re just tipsy. Shaking his head and clicking his tongue at you, urging you to drink water as if it’s your first time touching alcohol. Staying sober himself so that he can take care of you—somebody’s going to have to drive you home at the end of the night, or who knows where you’ll end up!
Telling you that you’re flirting too much, causing all the guys to stare at you even when you’ve only been talking to your girlfriends. Purposefully getting into a fight with you so that he can excuse you both, apologizing to everyone for what a difficult drunk you are—making you so embarrassed and ashamed you end up following him to the car with your tail tucked between your legs—also because he keeps your phone and purse on him, for safekeeping of course, so you don’t forget or lose them somehow.
“I’m not hungry,” you mumble under your breath.
He sighs, standing behind you, leaning his hands against the back of the chair you’re seated in. “You say that, but I can’t trust you, can I?”
His head drops to your shoulder, cheek to cheek, hugging you from behind while his arms slip down your chest, feeling your ribs with a curious and clinical touch.
“I know you’re body better than anyone and I can tell you’ve been skipping meals.”
You shake your head. “I haven’t.” It’s the truth—you really haven’t. It’s normal for bodies to change a little every now and again. But it’s not as if he’d ever accept that as an excuse.
“I don’t want to argue,” is all he says. “Now, be a good girl and eat your cake.”
If it were only a piece of cake, you’d have gotten it well over with already. But the platter placed in front of you was enough to feed an entire dinner party. Pink and triple-stacked with mountains of decorative buttercream frosting—god only knows what else is inside.
“I’m not eating an entire cake.” That would be ridiculous. Anyone would agree. But not him. No, you know how serious he is.
“You wouldn’t have to if you just ate when I told you earlier.”
He speaks softly, in a manner as if it isn’t even your fault to begin with but his own. He’s in charge, after all. All he’s accusing you of is being a handful.
“But here we are…”
He grabs the spoon he’d laid out—no, not a cake fork or a teaspoon, but a tablespoon—and proceeds to gather one big mouthful for you.
“One drunken, starved girlfriend and one tired, concerned boyfriend.”
You shake your head and seal your lips as he brings the portion up to your mouth.
“If I eat all that, I’m gonna be sick. I just wanna go to bed–” you plead, but he cuts you off.
“It’d be better for you to get sick now instead of tomorrow.” His other hand takes your chin soft but strictly, holding you firmly in place. “Come on now, say ah.”
You’re crying by the end of it. Throat sore and belly overfull, feeling nauseous beyond belief.
“Last bite,” he says, and you no longer have the strength to refuse, even when you doubt there’s any room left to spare. You force it down, and he praises you for it with a kiss on your frosting-smeared cheek. “Good job.”
Between the cake, the alcohol, and his coddling, of course, you feel sick to your stomach.
“What a mess…” he drawls while he holds your hair back from the toilet bowl.
You feel filthy, sitting on the bathroom tiles between his legs as he rubs your back and coos.
“You’re lucky you’re so cute, or who knows who’d bother taking care of you—honestly, you’re worse than a baby sometimes. Utterly hopeless.”
He kisses your exposed nape. You swear you feel him smile.
“I’m just kidding. I’ll always take care of you no matter what.”
You hurl again—nothing but pink cream and sprinkles coming out.
“Even if you had no legs and no arms. Even if you were blind and deaf and mute, I’d still be here.” You shudder while he vows.
You know he means it, too. Suppose that’s a little romantic. It’s just you can’t shake the feeling that he’d prefer for you to be that way.
yandere divorcé takes such good care of his gn!reader
manga : sweet delusions of love with my childhood friend
cw : reader is held captive, yan tendencies, fluff, angst, manipulation, codependency
wc : 500+
sparkle divider credit : @anitalenia
it’s almost scary how much he takes care of you.
every morning, you wake up to the smell of breakfast.
something warm.
something sweet.
something made from scratch.
you never have to get up for it.
he brings it to you.
every single morning.
tray balanced carefully in his hands, smile soft, voice softer.
“don’t move,” he coos.
not like you can, with your ankle cuffed to the bed.
he sets the tray over your lap, adjusts your pillows, like you’re something delicate. his fingers always drift down to that cuff eventually, thumb brushing over the skin beneath it.
if there’s even the slightest redness, he notices. he always does.
he massages that poor little sore spot like it’s the greatest injustice in the world.
“i don’t want it hurting you,” he murmurs, frowning at the mark like it personally offended him.
isn’t he just the sweetest?
you don’t even have to like what he cooks.
you can tell him you’re not in the mood for pancakes. or eggs. or whatever he woke up early to make.
and he won’t get mad.
he’ll smile.
he’ll ask, “then what do you want?”
and when you tell him—no matter how unreasonable, no matter how far—he’ll lean down, press a kiss to your forehead, and say it again.
“don’t move.”
like you ever could.
he’ll drive out himself. he won’t trust delivery drivers. he won’t risk someone else touching your food. he’ll bring it back warm, fresh, placed carefully in your hands while he watches you take the first bite.
once you’re done laying in bed for the morning, he always asks what you want to do.
he says it like you have endless options.
like you have freedom.
but every option is a two-person activity.
a walk in the park?
he’s coming.
of course he is. his hand firm around yours, his arm secure at your waist, his eyes scanning anyone who looks a second too long.
playing video games?
he’ll hold you the entire time.
chin on your shoulder. arms wrapped around your middle. watching the screen, but mostly watching you.
doing something mundane, like washing dishes or folding laundry?
he won’t let you.
you shouldn’t worry your pretty little hands with chores.
he’ll guide you gently back into your seat, smile never faltering.
“just sit there,” he tells you softly. “let me take care of it.”
and he does.
he washes every plate.
he folds every shirt.
he makes the bed, fluffs the pillows, vacuums the floors, cooks every meal.
all while glancing at you every few seconds to make sure you’re still there.
still safe.
still exactly where he left you.
the cuff around your ankle sometimes shifts when you move. it makes the faintest little sound.
he always hears it.
he’s always kneeling in front of you a moment later, hands warm against your skin, thumbs pressing gently into that sore spot like he can massage away the reality of it.
“does it hurt?” he asks tentatively, every time.
like he doesn’t know.
like he isn’t the one who locked it.
his touch is so careful.
so attentive.
so loving.
“i’m just taking care of you,” he whispers, resting his forehead against your knee. “you don’t have to do anything anymore.”
he looks up at you with that adoring expression. that soft, devoted smile.
“all you have to do,” he starts gently, tightening his grip just enough to remind you, “is stay.”
What if cyran was not only bitter bc merlin was his rival and a thorn in his side, but also bc he lost his love/crush in the 2nd divine war (we dunno if everyone assumed merlin died or if it was different for everyone) and the reason he finally gave in and turned to dark magic was bc the void merlin left was too great.
No one mourned merlin like he did. Before he could realize it, merlin was his everything. He must've felt lost now that his purpose was gone. What if he learned dark magic TO try to revive merlin? What if the princess in whiteridge was a prototype in a way?
Either way, the world moved on from merlin too fast Cyran couldn't keep up. Didn't want to keep up. How can they call themselves friends of merlin when they let her go so fast?
Also, it would especially hurt even more if there was something more between cyran and merlin. An established, secret relationship, perhaps? Maybe they were too young and the war came too fast.
Cyran was blinded too much with grief and anger, he never realized merlin never died. Even the royal family didn't know? Surely ifthey knew, Cyran would too.
Imagine slipping too deep into the dark side and ur lover comes back but they're amnesic and their second first impression of you is... not so good. Yeah I'd be double bitter lol
What if Bullseye joins Thunderbolts/Avengers, but Daredevil joins Sam's Avengers?
And then the two teams meet.
While Sam and Bucky are busy arguing which team Avengers is the real deal, the other team members from both side are busy gaping at the train wreck which is :
1. How usually-unhinged-Bullseye behaving like a fangirl trying to interact with his North Star who clearly don't want to.
2. The North star that Bullseye kept praising as the kindest, most holy person he had ever known was Daredevil.
Yes, that Daredevil.
The Mr. I-beat-criminals-until- they-had-broken-bones-all-over- their-bodies-or-went-into-a-coma
“He asked if Malarkey wanted to see Muck and Penkala but Malarkey refused. Years afterward, in a book he wrote, “Later I’d hear that beyond a shredded sleeping bag and a few body parts, there wasn’t much to see. That wasn’t Skip Muck back there in the foxhole. Skip Muck was sitting on the floor of the PX with me, listening to the Mill Brothers sing ‘Paper Doll’ on the jukebox. He was getting my food for me when my lege had given out on the march to Atlanta. He was swimming the damned Niagara River at night,a thought that made me want to laugh and cry at the same time, the crazy fool.””
— In the Footsteps of the Band of Brothers (via barberwithbayonet)
I love how cute it is having a one track minded mc even when their smart. Its what makes their romance with G so cute in my opinion. I need G to acknowledge that besides tennis they may be one of the only other things that take up space in mc's brain. I NEED IT PLEASE. Like whats do you mean you wish you could be mc's doubles partner when your the only other thing they've thought about this entire trip! Acknowledge that you take up enough space in their brain for them to think of stuff other then tennis!
Anyway I love this game and mc and G are living in my mind now.
Yes!! It's like. The more attached G gets to MC, the more they wish they could be part of MC's tennis world--without realizing that part of what keeps MC sane, and what makes the relationship with G so special --is the fact that G helps them remember there's more to life than tennis!
I’m muuuuuuuch too lazy to make a remotely clean and actually good version of this so take what you can get
Anyway, I drew this to illustrate a certain vision I have of Gilbert: he is a man of the military and of ideals (although he is a pragmatist) and he knows little mercy when it comes to his own men. Harsh on others, harsher on himself still, in line with the Prussian virtues. If you are part of his military he has very high expectations for you.
Friedrich used to be at the receiving end of Gilbert’s…ah, criticism in his youth. But it was easy to forget about the treatment once he’d gained Gilbert’s favor; well, sometimes he still got a reminder of what slumbers inside Gilbert.
12th August, 1759. Aftermath of the battle of Kunersdorf.
aka, Austria, Russia, and Prussia should be the real Bad trio (because everything about it is awful, and yet wonderful)
aka I just wanted to draw Ivan call Gilbert a cockroach
aka have you ever drawn something and one panel in already realize that you have made a grave mistake
