#B..B..BBBABY

[cosmorom]

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[strayflowersstarsandlove]

@arikazu here it is! I'm so sorry it took me this long but hopefully it's worth the wait. I went with Chan i hope that's okay!

Until we are okay (bangchan)

Tw:miscarriage, trauma, precarious mental health, blood

The glass walls of the shower are painted a milky greyish white, a foggy layer of steam on top of another as the scalding water splashes off of your body, yet it still doesn't feel hot enough.

You squeeze your eyes shut until they start to sting under the constant stream of water raining down on you, a bleak attempt at feeling something, anything besides the numbness rooted deeply within your chest. Barren. Empty. That's all you feel,that's all you'll ever feel, you fear.

But then the subtle taste of limestone and its sting prickling your face do make you feel itchy. So you open your bloodshot eyes and blink a few times, eyelids heavy with droplets, until you can focus again, until you can make out the silohuette of the faucet, the glass panels and white marbled tiles all around you and beneath your feet.

And blood. Beneath your feet. Pink colored, watered down, running down your leg. Blood. A single copious rivulet.

Panic seizes you. It's happening all over again. Your chest tightens, your throat closes, breath barely coming out of your mouth in short hiccups, haze. A slight tingling running up and down your leg. Pins and needles. The phantom of pain constricting your lower abdomen, it's happening,it's happening again.

"Chaaan! Chaaaaaan". You scream. Mustering what's left of your voice, you scream your lungs out until they give in and your knees go weak and you kneel in the shower, in the pool of your own blood.

Chan barges in, looking frazzled and confused, he looks around frantically, zeroing in on the blood beneath you,trying to estimate how you gut hurt: "ba-y/n!! I got you I got you, shh I got you", he mumbles. In one swift motion he turns the faucet off and grabs a large towel to wrap you up in, "I'm going to help you out of the shower okay? I just need you to breathe for me, just breathe for me".

You try to focus on his gentle voice only, the tears pooling in your eyes making it so hard for you to see properly, even as they stream down your face, it seems like they're never going to stop.

Your husband carefully scoops you up in his arms and guides your trembling body out of the shower, he helps you sit down on the cold floor, hands brushing your arms and your shoulders to steady you in place, his heart hammering in his chest, too fast for his own breathing, he feels like he's going to choke.

"Chan- the bbbaby is d-ead. The baby is dead again", you stammer out, holding onto your stomach protectively, "y/n, my love... there is no-there is no baby...".

There is no baby.

No baby in your belly. No baby. No baby in your scan, for you threw those away. No baby in your memories of not for the ghost of it, a dull ache in your heart and in your head, the flashing image of your positive pregnancy test.

No baby in his voice, for he chastises himself everytime he slips up and endearingly tries to call you baby.

You fall silent. A distorted frown on your face. Reality sets in. Comes crashing down on you. There is no baby.

"B-but the blood ...the pain". Pain is no longer there. Pain never was there. The trauma is. The trauma never goes away, your body infested with it as it is. Ghost baby. Ghost pain. Very real blood. Not period blood either, that ended last week.

"You have a bit of a scratch there...", Chan says softly, pointing at the inside of your thigh, even though it's covered in the white spongy material of the towel, the hem of it getting progressively more pink, soaking up the blood still oozing out of your small wound.

"I-I forgot ... I forgot I was shaving earlier", you sputter, realization downing on you. The tingles, the faint pain. It all makes sense now. Not for your heart though. That feels irreparably broken. Your brain too, going into over drive, making you relieve the trauma over and over again. Cause it had happened like that.

One minute you were overjoyed, 6 weeks pregnant and happily taking a shower in the warm summer weather, a bright morning that felt breezy and light, and the next you were bleeding for no reason at all. And then the blistering pain came in, the feeling of daggers ripping up your insides, the sharp edge of a knife cutting up your guts until there was no more of you and the baby except for a red and bright hot pink blob staining your tiles.

It has been over 3 months since, but even if the physical pain subsided, the hurting never ceased. You felt alienated in your own body, had become reticent in even letting Chan touch you in any way, which had been quite hard in him, even if he dissimulated that to the best of his abilities.

One of his more prominent love languages was physical touch, and being deprived of it for so long felt horrible, but he kept quiet, he had been patiently waiting for you to allow him to get near you again in bed at night, even if it was just for a few minutes, a hug and no more than that. It was a slow process, but you were getting there.

But then something as trivial and minuscle like seeing blood in the shower happened, and you were both back at square one, both acknowledging and respecting each other's pain, you shutting down and involuntarily icing him out and him silently crying late night at work so you wouldn't see him in pain.

Crying and shivering on the floor, the sight of you it's too much for him, Chan greets his teeth, he breathes in short hiccups, trying to hold back the tears, trying to be strong for you and stop his arms from reaching out to you. But even mountains crumble.

And he does crumble, catastrophically so: the second you spontaneously crawl to him, trying to find refuge in his arms, he breaks down completely. Both the sorrow and the relief of getting to hold you again, under the worst circumstances, completely rip him apart.

You're holding on to dear life just as much as him, wrapped in each other's arms like that alone could prevent any more pain to enter your life.

Chan is not one to cry too often, especially not in front of you when all he ever wanted was to be your stronghold, your safe space, your comfort person,and so hearing his violent sobs shakes you deeply, for you have been so caught up in your own pain you might have overlooked his tribulations too.

"I love you I'm so sorry", you hiccup in between sobs, running your fingertips through his short curls at the back of his head, "no-no please don't be sorry, y/n ple-please don't be sorry, I love you more. I'm sorry I'm not strong enough, I hate myself".

A cold awareness downs on you, the instinctual sense of protection and love forging ahead in your heart: he needs you, he needs you to comfort him, for once.

Waterfalls spilling down your eyes and your face, you press your cheek to his palpitating chest, raked with tremors, you place soft kisses to his collarbones and hug him as tight as you can, "you don't have to be, Chris you don't have to be, you hear me? You don't have to be strong for me, I love you".

Still sniffling and hiccuping a little, he nods weakly, strong, wonderful arms wrapping around you like a blanket, immediate relief shooting through his veins and your own too. How long has it even been since you let him hold you like this? How could you ever go this long without it?

Chan rubs your back in circles, the muscles in his jaw relaxing, his neck less tense and splotchy, he gingerly kisses the top of your head, your body going lax, eyes fluttering shut as you take deep breaths and familiarize again with the scent of his skin, the inebriating musk and vanilla, the feeling of his fingers  caressing your spine.

Tiny kisses to your forehead and your temples, the pads of his fingers tapping your skin so lightly, Chan hesitates, he gathers your frail body closer up to his chest and presses his nose to the side of your neck, "is it okay if I hold you like this?", a hint of uncertainty in his soft voice, all he wants to do right now is glue your pieces back together, possibly stitching himself a whole man again, but he also realises he needs to respect your newly relented boundaries.

With tears still staining your cheeks, you tilt your head up and kiss him squarely on the lips, even tugging at his hair while doing so, earning the softest little surprised whimper from him, "all I want is for you to hold me, Chris, and for me to hold you, too", Chan manages to smile timidly, fond still teary eyes staring into yours, "we'll hold each other until we're okay again, my love".

Can you please make a one-shot of a reader having a miscarriage with any stray kids members

thank you for trusting me with a topic this sensitive. I'll see what I can do for it's such a delicate matter I wouldn't want to hurt anyone's feelings and sensitivity💔 will write down in my "to write"list!

[mickeys-malarkey]

Smeeeet~! (つ≧▽≦)つ💕

I couldn’t resist,,,,,, b abey,,,,

They might not have teeth to bite you yet but that won’t stop ‘em from trying