#understanding postpartum depression

[artisticdivasworld]

Postpartum Depression: Is It Serious?

Childbirth is a joyous time, however, not every new mother feels joyful. There is such a thing as “postpartum depression” and it causes loss of interest, fatigue, even thoughts of harming self or others. This does not happen to every person who gives birth, but it does happen often enough that it is important to educate people about it. This blog post aims to provide educational insights and…

[dcxdpdabbles]

Danny reincarnates as Tim's twin. The only problem is that his ghost powers act up in the womb from either the gross ecto in Gotham or an artifact that Janet handled while pregnant. Because of this only Tim is 'born', the Drake's either assume one was miscarried or never knew they were twins.

Tim meanwhile grows up with a brother his parents ignore more than him. It takes Danny an embarrassingly long time to realize what's going on and fix it but by then the twins are around 4 so can't really explain to the rest of Gotham.

When they become Robin, either Nightwing and Batman are almost convinced he's like Harvey with how many times they've found him talking and discussing plans with himself. Or with how bad their collective mental health was at that time think they're going crazy.

Only Alfred knows what's going on because he's Alfred.

Tim Drake is a strange child. Ever since he was little, he would point to empty air and interact with it as if someone was standing there and responding.

At first, his parents thought it was cute that he had an imaginary friend, and Mrs. Drake even shed a few tears when Tim proclaimed that it was the brother he had at birth. The second son of the Drakes had been growing healthy in her stomach until the very end of the first trimester when he simply vanished.

Not died, not stop growing- vanished as if he was never there.

The doctors and the Drakes had no idea what happened. Test after tests were done, but in the end, they could only conclude that the second baby was gone. It was theorized that Tim may have devoured his brother in the womb, though there had been no symptoms that Janet suffered from.

When Tim was born, Janet had nearly died with a false labor that happened only ten minutes after giving birth. The nurses and doctors had been panicking because they could not understand where the contractions originated. False labor was contractions during pregnancy, not after labor, so there was nothing the body could confuse for the urge to push.

They ruled it as a freak false labor since the only other match was Janet entering second labor. Still, as much as the nurses and doctors were ready for a monochorionic monoamniotic twin, nothing came out. Eventually, Janet passed out, and her body finally finished doing whatever it was doing.

It was no surprise that this experience ended up giving Janet postpartum depression. She tried to connect to Tim, but something in her just never clicked, and Jack was beside himself, trying to care for his child while his wife drifted further and further away.

A therapist suggested Janet return to work, which seemed to do wonders for her. She took part in multiple digs and went on many trips, but eventually, Jack felt like she was never home. Worried his wife wouldn't return to him, Jack jumped on a plane while leaving Tim in the capable hands of the housekeeper.

He said it would be a short trip just to get Janet to come back and get treatment.

Jack ended up helping at the dig site, extending his stay to his once again bright and loving wife. Seeing her back to her usual self led to him booking them another trip.

Then another, and another, and antoher. Before long, the Drakes rarely spent time in Gotham, and Tim grew bigger in their absence. Janet loved Tim, but seeing him only brought back guilt that she could not love him like other mothers could so quickly. She was so excited for their baby and had loved him with her whole heart while he was inside of her, but now, seeing those big blue eyes blink up at her, all Janet wanted to do was run.

She drowned in guilt, and sometimes, it felt that she was only breathing because Jack was there for her. He dragged her back to the surface only long enough to take a breath and be dragged under again.

She missed his first steps, his first words, and his first laugh. That's why hearing him call out to Danny was so jarring. She had stopped outside his room, carrying gifts in the form of toys, hoping they would make up for the fact that she had only seen him a handful of times for a solid year.

He was playing with blogs, babbling to "Danny." She had picked out the name of her other son when she found out she was having twins. The only person Tim could have heard that name from was the housekeeper.

Janet fired her after wiping her tears. She would hire a replacement that wouldn't mock her two-year-old son. She let Tim keep his imaginary friend, figuring he would outgrow it.

Tim didn't.

Over the years, Tim became increasingly convinced Danny was with him. He even started turning in classwork under the name Danny, and when a teacher would call him, he would respond with "I don't know. Tim is better at this than me."

Sometimes, when he acted out, Tim would be the one responsible. Tim was the one who got bored quickly in class, needed to be challenged more, and preferred to follow whatever hair-brain idea he had. Photography, skateboarding, and actual crime shows were what made Tim happy.

Then, he became Danny when he showed effort in school but struggled to keep his solid, slightly above-average results. This side of her son preferred astronomy and baking and seemed confused by their wealth. Almost as if he was new money instead of the old wealth the Drakes had. Janet also heard that Danny seemed to stick his nose in whenever a bully targeted a classmate, confronting them with a bravo she could not associate with Tim.

Tim was more like her. They dealt with their opponents through clever planning instead of confirmation, which Jack preferred. He talked to himself a lot, too. The Drakes weren't even in Gotham, but their family's whispers echoed through the gala halls anyway. As young Tim walked by, there were rumors and speculations.

The elites would gossip as Tim continued arguing that the decor was worth the money and that they couldn't steal it, no matter how much food it could buy people in their charities.

He whispers, yelling at the air as Janet watches from across the hall, her stomach turning with love and repulse.

Years after his birth, she could not bring herself to stand before him for too long. Jack followed because he worried she do something to herself if he didn't.

She could not deny it now that Tim was nine. Janet realized, after a while of reading reports involving her son, that he likely suffered from a split personality disorder. Seeing it in person was entirely different.

They'll likely have to have him instituted, and the thought almost has her throwing up. She wonders if she would have caught on faster had she been a better mother and been around.

She steels herself, crossing the room to speak to her son. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees that Jack has noticed and quickly tries to make an excuse to stop her. Fortunately, depending on who you asked, the men looking for an investor don't let their husbands go that easily, so she is clear.

"No, I won't ask him for an autograph!" Tim hisses, looking at the wall to his right as if someone were leaning against it with him. Janet's resolves wabble a little at Tim's pout. There is a short pause before Tim goes red. "I can't do that! Mr.Wayne is really protective of Richard."

Dread pools into her stomach as Tim's features shift, and a grin with a mad twist settles on his lips. "I already have all the pictures I want about him. My favorite is the one I took last night."

This can't wait. Janet loves her son; she does not care what anyone says that she doesn't, but she can't allow him to harm others. Stalking will eventually lead to harm; she knows it. Those are the early signs.

She opens her mouth, only for Tim to turn to her with a coldness she hadn't noticed he always regarded her with.

She had never seen joy on his face, so she had never had a chance to compare how he looked at her and Jack to how he looked at others. How he looked at Danny.

Janet feels everything in her freeze, and a tremble grows in her arms and hands. Trying to hide it, she drowns the glass of wine in her hand in one gulp but instantly regrets it.

The world become slightly hazy that alcoholic cause, and maybe it's been a long time since she last drank. She could have sworn she was seeing double for a moment, and an exact copy of her child was leaning on the wall behind Tim.

But that wouldn't make sense. Tim's eyes weren't green.

"Son." Jack's warm presence is behind her, placing a comforting hand on her back, and she can't bring herself to speak as her husband commands. He likely feels her trembles. "It's time to leave."

The second image of Tim flickers out of sight, and Janet walks out of the Wayne Gala, wondering if her son inherited his madness from her. Neither adult notices the soft thump of the backseat, nor do they pay much attention to Tim carefully buckling the air or how the blanket he keeps back there spreads itself across Tim's lap.

Janet falls into old habits, and instead of being up to what she realized that night, she convinces Jack to go to Guatemala. They are gone first thing the following day.

Tim watches them leave from the top of the grand stairway, his eyes glowing green in heavy judgment and ice that Janet would have felt in the coldest winter. Jack is chatting nonsense to fill the silence and keep Janet grounded, but when she peeks over her shoulder to the Manor, she spots Tim in the window of his room, watching them leave with a frown.

His green eyes are gone, and she feels a chill race down her spine. There is no way he could have run up the stairs, gone down four different hallways, and gotten to the window before they could get to the waiting car.

"Goodbye, Tim. Keep the house safe!" Jack says as he opens the car door for Janet, but he's talking in the doorway. Because that's where the grand stairway is. She hears her son respond but can't tell what he is saying.

She can only gaze upwards to where Tim waves at her while clutching the curtain. His mouth doesn't move. He isn't the one speaking to Jack.

Janet sits in the leather of the car, Jack beside her, holding her hand tenderly, and she rethinks about having Tim instituted. She should hire an exorcist instead.

When they get back, of course. The car pulls away from the driveway, and Janet does her best not to look back even as the door slams shut, as if the sound was meant to tell her never to return. She closes her eyes, holds her breath, and only lets it go when they are far away from Drake Manor and her son.

Maybe one day she can be a good mother.

[thatone-girly]

PRETTY GIRL

Summary: Six months postpartum and Cleo is still insecure about herself. Terry has had enough.

Terry Richmond x Black!OC

18+ Content! || porn with little to no plot, married couple, slight daddy kink, p in v, mentions of postpartum depression, mentions of insecurity

Cleo gasped, the faint sound getting caught in her throat as her nails dug into the meaty flesh of Terry’s arms. Her toes curled tightly as the tremble in her thighs intensified. The constant jabbing and stimulation of her g-spot due to Terry’s deep, digging strokes sent intoxicating waves of pleasure through her body, leaving her looking fucked-out and dick drunk.

Another whine left her swollen, parted lips, eyes rolling back in her head as her knees came together in an attempt to slow Terry’s mid-paced strokes. “Mm-mm…”, he hummed, his right hand moving to smack her thigh. “Open them legs. Let me see that pretty ass pussy.”

He didn’t give her much of a chance to follow his commands before he hooked his huge hands around the back of her knees and pushed them up to her chest. His gaze stayed fixed on her creaming tightness, watching the milky white ring she left grow thinker and larger. “She so pretty…”, he mumbled, “just like you.”

His plump, pink lips wedged between his pearly white teeth as his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. “Look at her.”, he took his right hand off her thigh and cupped his hand around he jaw, forcing her to look at their connected parts. “Look how she’s creamin’ around me.”

Cleo blinked to clear her hazy vision, focusing in on his length moving in and out of her with ease. Seeing first hand the sticky mess she was making made her even wetter, causing her nails to dig deeper into Terry’s arms. “Terryyy…”, Cleo whined, her eyes fluttering closed as her head fell back against the sheets.

Terry, whose hand had moved from her jaw to around her neck, hummed in response. “What’s the matter, mama?”

Breath partially taken from his firm grip on her neck, Cleo released a choked moan as the tremble in her legs intensified. “Talk to me, baby”, Terry mumbled, his grip tightening softly, “tell daddy what’s wrong.”

Cleo whined in response, her walls tightening around him as her toes curled tightly in the air, “y-you’re so deep, baby.”

A cocky grin spread across his face, his bottom lip moving to rest between his teeth once more. He told her this would happen. He told her all it would take was just one more time for him to catch her looking at herself negatively in the mirror, one more time to catch her starving herself to lose weight, one more time for her to talk down on herself. One more time and he was going to do something about it.

He made it clear from the first time she made a comment about her postpartum body that he would not tolerate his wife being insecure about the body that carried their child. But for a while, he did. He knew postpartum depression was a bitch, and he saw it take its ugly toll on Cleo. He hated seeing her so upset about the changes her body had gone through bringing their baby girl into the world, and quite frankly, he didn’t understand. Hell, he loved it.

He loved everything. The way her hair grew, the way her skin became glass, the way stretch marks were visible on her thighs, ass, and stomach. The way her chest grew, hips expanded, and her ass got fatter? Oh, you know he was loving that. He couldn’t understand why she didn’t love it. Honestly, he didn’t want to. One too many negative comments about herself and he had had enough.

He told her the next time she said something negative about herself, he’d fuck the shit out of her. If he couldn’t talk her into feeling beautiful, he would fuck her into feeling beautiful. He made it clear that he would go so deep inside of her that she wouldn’t even remember what she was insecure about.

And she didn’t. She barely even remembered her name right now.

His name seemed to be the only thing she remembered, because in the moment, it was the only thing she could manage to say. Beside the occasional whines, whimpers, and cries, the only thing leaving her mouth was Terry’s name. But that wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

“Look at me.”, he commanded, his deep green eyes burning into her face. Cleo peeled her eyes open, locking eyes with her husband. They held intense eye contact, the effects over their intimate dance causing butterflies to swarm in Cleo’s stomach. “Tell me what I wanna hear.”

Cleo didn’t have to ask what it was he wanted her to say. He’d been saying it to her since the day they met, and after she had the baby, he said it ten times more. Now he wanted her to say it.

But Cleo didn’t want to say it. She didn’t think it was true.

Noticing her eyes starting to close, Terry smacked her thigh with his free hand while putting more pressure on her throat with the other. “Don’t look away from me, Cleo.”

Cleo yelped at the harsh contact his large hand made to her thigh as her eyes shot open. “Tell me what I wanna hear.”, he repeated, his hips moving in ways that damn near made it impossible for Cleo to keep her eyes open, let alone talk. “Come on, baby…say it for me.”

Despite his pussy-wetting words and leg shaking strokes, Cleo still refused to say it.

Terry said nothing. Instead, he began to retreat from her walls and let go of her neck. Whining from the feel of his exit, Cleo hurriedly reached out to grab his arm. “No, don’t stop! Please, don’t stop, it feels so good!”

At her pleading words, Terry slowly pushed back inside of her. “Well stop playing and tell me what I wanna hear.”

Gasping as he stretched her again, Cleo’s back arched off of the bed as he inched closer and closer to that sweet spot of hers. She knew him and she knew how petty he was. He was purposely avoiding hitting her spot until she said what he wanted her to say.

Burying his head in her neck, Terry peppered kisses along her neck as he mumbled, “Come on, mama. Let me hear you say it.”

Whining as her walls contracted around him, Cleo mumbled, “I’m beautiful.”

“What you say?”, Terry mumbled as his lips pressed repeatedly against the sweet spot on her neck. “I ain’t hear you.”

Cursing under her breath, Cleo fought not to lose her damn mind as she draped an arm over Terry’s neck and both voluntarily and involuntarily raked her nails over his shoulder blade. “I’m beautiful…”, she repeated in her whining tone, her free hand reaching up beside her head to grip the plush pillow. Cleo wanted to slap the shit out of Terry for having her like this. Better yet, she wanted to slap the shit out of herself for pushing him away for so long. Her insecurities kept her from damn near seeing heaven, and damn was she mad about it.

Terry needed to say nothing to let Cleo know her words had been accepted. All he needed to do was push his hips a little bit deeper, and there it was.

Cleo needed to say nothing to let him know that he’d found that spot, because the involuntary bucking of her hips along with the trembling of her legs and gasp of pleasure, Terry knew. His low chuckle of contentment confirmed that as he lifted himself from the crook of her neck to balance himself on his hands and continue to roll his hips in that same pattern. Looking down at his dazed wife, Terry chuckled once more and took his bottom lip between his teeth, asking, “I’m hittin’ that spot, huh?”

Cleo, in her otherworldly pleasure, could only grip the pillow tighter and continue to let her sweet love sounds slip past her parted lips.

Terry could do nothing but admire her when she was like this. Her legs spread all over the bed, hands clenched in the sheets, hair wild as hell. She was a disheveled, sweaty, moaning mess. But still to him, she was the prettiest thing in the world.

He watched as her tired brown eyes rolled back into her head and her head fell back against the bed as she tried not to be too loud and wake their baby girl across the hall. He took a second to let his head fall back and avert his vision to the ceiling from both pleasure and to take a breather, because if he kept watching Cleo, he would get her pretty ass pregnant all over again.

Hearing her whine his name again in that familiar tone, he quickly returned his attention to her. She was close.

“What’s the matter, baby?”, he cooed as he moved his right hand down to her bundle of nerves and used the pad of his thumb to rub slow, sloppy circles, “you gon’ cum for me? hmm?”

Moaning aloud in response to his unexpected touch, Cleo’s hand quickly moved down to his hip in an attempt to halt his movement just for a second so she could get some air back in her damn lungs. “W-wait, T…”, she murmured, fighting to keep her eyes from doing yet another roll inward, but damn did she feel good. Hell, she could barely talk without moaning.

Shaking his head, Terry’s hips continued to move, fighting back against her weak pushes. “Nah”, he mumbled, his thumb continuing its rotation on her pleasure point, “don’t tap out on me now, Cleo. Gimmie that nut. Let me have it.”

And just like that, his wish was her command. “Oh, f-fuck, Terry!” Her volume control was out the window, as was her mind as an orgasm sent from God himself ran its course. His name upon her lips was music to Terry’s ears as he continued his movements, helping her ride out her high.

Motions slowly coming to a halt as her body relaxed, Terry chuckled as he watched her pleasure cost his shaft in creamy coats. Finally being allowed to catch her breath, Cleo’s chest rose and fell at a semi-rapid pace. “Terry…what the fuck?”, she whined as she raised a hand to cover her face.

Chuckling once more, he gently removed her hand from face before peppering kisses all around it. She smiled weakly as he whispered, “You did so good for me, baby. I’m so proud of you.”

With more kisses to her face and her lips, he then murmured, “but I know you got some more in there for me. Gon’ head and turn over.”

[featjunranghae]

Fatherhood - Lee Jeno

warning: none in this part. might get suggestive later

summary: when jeno's girlfriend left him to deal with fatherhood alone. he decided he'd never let anyone in his or his daughter's life. that was until he met you. his neighbour whom his daughter seemed to love way too much

single dad jeno was only 20 when he got his then girlfriend pregnant. the entirety of the pregnancy they were together. planning their future with their little angel. but that all changed after his daughter jiwoo was born. his girlfriend wasn't being her usual self for months. he took it as postpartum depression. but one night she just packed her bags.

"I can't do this anymore."

jeno was confused. everything seemed to be going okay. he tried reasoning, tried making her stay. but her only answer was. "keep jiwoo. if I take her she might end up in an adoption."

that night changed everything for jeno. how could he do this alone? but he had to manage. begged his parents to babysit his daughter at day time so he could go to uni and could take extra jobs just to make ends meet. he was devastated. and it was hard going back to normal.

but slowly with time he healed a bit. he needed to heal for his daughter. and for her he'd move mountains. but some days it got exhausting. he just wanted to give up. he was too tired.

it was one of those days. he just finished his finals. he hadn't eaten anything since dinner last night and it was 4pm. he had to take jiwoo for her monthly check up and was on the way back home. and for some reason she wouldn't stop crying. he tried everything. singing, giving her chocolate, toys, YouTube but nothing was working.

he apologized to everyone as he got on the bus. no one liked a crying baby. while some offered him sympathetic smile, for others, the annoyance was clear on their faces. he put his bag down on the seat beside him.

"c'mon baby girl..." he muttered rocking her. "help daddy..." he tried feeding her the bottle but she fussily pushed it away. her wails turned to screeches and jeno felt himself tearing up. could this day get any fucking worse. "baby please-"

"let me help you."

it was like the voice was sent from god himself as jeno looked up at you. your eyes full of understanding as you slowly put his bag down on the ground and sat beside him. "I can hold her if you don't mind."

jeno should question before just handing his daughter out to anyone. but he didn't. he couldn't. he just needed her to stop. so he handed you jiwoo. he watched as you slowly patted her back putting her against your chest.

"it's okay... you're okay..." you hummed and it was like miracle to jeno. jiwoo stopped crying. the wails turned to sniffles. she slowly buried her face in your chest eyes slowly fluttering shut.

"are you a magician?" he asked before he could stop himself. "I'm sorry-"

"I spent all my highschool babysitting." you smiled rubbing your hand on jiwoos back. jeno didn't even know what to say as he stared at his little girl in your arms. "you don't look okay..."

"I'm not... I just.... my baby... she's... I.." he tried thinking of what to say without breaking down. "I just had a long day... I had exams... and work I... I'm so exhausted."

"it's okay to be exhausted-" you waited for his name.

"jeno."

"it's okay to be exhausted Jeno. you're doing such a great job. taking care of a baby isn't an easy job." you whispered to him and that was it. jeno found tearing up.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry-"

"it's okay... let it out." he didn't even know your name and here he was. crying beside you while you held his daughter. he wiped his eyes.

"it's so hard being a father... it's so hard... everything is hard... I just want to quit." he cried wiping his face.

"it is hard. going to uni and taking care of your daughter... but you're doing a great job." you whispered slowly moving one hand to pat his shoulder.

"I'm sorry... you must think I'm some loser crying in the bus-"

"I think you're a dad trying his best." jeno looked up at you then back at his daughter. "I'm yn, by the way. what's this princess's name?"

"jiwoo."

"how old is she?"

"she just turned 2." he said wiping her drool that was about to fall on your shirt. "I'm sorry- I'll take her-"

"I can hold her up until you get off the bus, if that's okay." you offered. he nodded slowly. he needed this. "you mentioned exams... you're in uni?"

"last year." he told you and he saw your eyes widen.

"me too. which major?" you asked hands still rocking jiwoo.

"applied physics."

"damn." you whispered. "must be hard... never understood a word of physics like my whole life."

he found himself smiling at your words. "which major are you in?"

"psychology."

that explains.

the rest of the ride was quiet. it was jeno's stop. he slowly took jiwoo out of your arms. "thank you so much yn... I don't know what I would've done without you today."

"it's okay." you smiled back grabbing your bag. "do you live in 7th streets as well?" Jeno nodded. "the world is so small. I live on 7th street as well. the building beside the convenience store."

"I live on the one opposite to it." he told you as you both got off. no words were shared as you as you reached in front of your building.

"I'll be off then..." you smiled before cooing at jiwoo. "such a lovely girl." you slowly poked her chubby cheeks watching her snuggle even closer to her dad.

"she was anything but lovely today." he chuckled looking down at his daughter with so much adoration. "she's usually calmer I promise."

"I'll take your words for it big guy." you said before waving one last time and walking off. jeno stood there for a while watching you leave. something in his heart told him this wouldn't be the last time you two meet.

NCT MASTERLIST - NEXT

[silentmess]

The fact that Eddie and Maddie aren't best friends in the show is fucking criminal, because those two? Literal twins, their lives are so similar it's kinda sickening.

Eddie, oldest child, has two younger siblings. Maddie, oldest child, has two younger siblings.

Eddie, forced to step up and be "the man of the house" because his father is always working, and his mother is emotionally neglectful, typical "you had food, clothes, and roof over your head, so you should be thankful" parent type. Maddie, forced to step up and raise her own little brother because their parents were emotionally absent and only paid attention to Buck when he got hurt.

Okay, now it's getting creepy. Maddie was 19 when she married her abuser. Eddie was 19 when Shannon got pregnant and they had no choice but to get married.

Maddie became ER nurse. Eddie became army medic.

Maddie moved to LA because she was running from her husband. Eddie moved to LA because he was running from his parents.

Maddie was traumatised by abuse Doug put her through and had a hard time processing his death . Eddie spent years in toxic relationship with Shannon and had a hard time processing her death.

Both fucking adore Buck.

Eddie left for another tour because he was terrified of being a parent and when he was honourably discharged he spent every walking moment trying to be the best parent for Chris, but he was still haunted by doubts and afraid of failing. Maddie left after Jee got accidentally hurt on her watch and when she came back after getting the help she needed to fight her postpartum depression she spent every walking moment trying to be the best parent for Jee, but she was still haunted by doubts and afraid of failing.

The level of understanding and trauma bonding those two can reach is frankly ridiculous.

[shrimpybbq]

rafe and high school gf's first mother's day

oh boy, where to begin

charlie was only a few months old when mother's day rolled around and high school gf was still in the adjustment stage with her little boy

she was crying a lot too, always sad and watching rafe stalk in and out of tannyhill, high and grumbling about things she couldn't understand

charlie wasn't sleeping through the night and it was all just too stressful for her - high school gf was definitely experiencing postpartum depression

she doesn't even realise that mother's day is coming up, never picking up on the hints and besides, she hadn't been going into town to see the cards and gifts out

it's sarah, rose, and wheezie who decide to do something for her. they know rafe won't do anything for her since he's off on a coke bender again, so they decide to cater in morning tea for the family and have a small celebration

high school gf woke up that morning to find wheezie insistent on playing with charlie, and so she lets her take him down to the living room

high school gf allows herself a well-earned shower, washing her hair and finally feeling somewhat normal. dressed, she gets ready to go downstairs only to have sarah knock at the door and accompany her downstairs

as the pair reach the living room, charlie and wheezie aren't in sight

"Wheezie took him outside, said the weather was nice," Sarah said.

the pair wandered outside only for high school gf to freeze at the decadent spread on the table, the balloons floating and the cake with the words 'happy mother's day' on it

"It's mother's day?" She asks quietly, voice wavering as her pent up emotions rose to the surface once more.

"Yeah! It's your first one so we wanted to do something special for you!" Wheezie exclaimed, running to hug the older girl.

the cameron's warily watch as high school gf's still for a moment, sarah beginning to panic as she notices the girl's lower lip begin to tremble

the family exchange wide-eyed glances as the new mother bursts into tears as she clings to wheezie, her sobs reverberating off the walls of tannyhill

they're all so confused until wheezie hears her mumble,

"Rafe isn't here,"

the young girl silently mouths 'rafe' to the other women, both realising what was making her so sad - rafe hadn't remembered the special day, and what's worse, he hadn't really acknowledged her much in the last month at all

high school gf was at her breaking point, so overwhelmed and sad, and the person who got her pregnant and put her in the situation in the first place hadn't even showed up

soon the cameron women surround her, bringing her to the table and comforting her as much as possible

it takes a while, but her tears stop and soon, the family eat pieces of the cake (the vibe is a little awkward, but sarah is doing her best to make high school gf laugh)

they've been outside in the sun for hours by the time ward returns back to the house, only to appear with a high rafe in tow. ward freezes at the sight of the group, taking in the words on the balloons. he can only sigh, balling up his fists at the realisation of the date

"Are you serious, Rafe?" Ward snipes, turning to face his son. He seethes, barely able to contain his anger at the continuous failures his son seems to bring upon him, "You can't even pull yourself together for one day."

Rafe looks at him hazily, his confusion clear. "Dad.. what are you talking about?"

Ward sighs once more, gripping his son's polo and dragging him towards the house. Before they pass through the door, he pauses and calls out to the sweet young girl watching, noticing her tears have begun to well up in her eyes again, "Happy Mother's Day, sweetheart."

Rafe's head turns to his girlfriend swiftly, eyes widening at the congratulations. He barely has a moment to process his mistake before his dad pulls him inside.

high school gf gives a sad smile to sarah and the younger girl immediately pulls her head down to rest on her shoulder, gently soothing her soft cries that have started up again. the whole table sits uncomfortably, wondering truly how someone so sweet and kind had ended up with rafe

they wish he would get clean for her and their son, but for now, all they can do is comfort her and try and make her day the best it can be (a rare moment that sarah and rose work together)

though her following mother's days were signficantly better and rafe actually remembered them, he always feels incredibly guilty at the memory of how he made her feel that day

@droppedyourhnd sorry this has taken so long to get out!

i've been taking a little break over xmas, but hoping to write a bit more now

[evamame]

postpartum depression / kuroo testurou

postpartum depression has hit you hard. and it doesn’t take much for kuroo to notice. it’s obvious in the way you tiredly rub your temples when your baby girl starts wailing at the top of her lungs for the third time in one hour, or in the way you sometimes look so exhausted kuroo thinks you might actually cry. he feels so helpless it hurts. he can’t stop her from crying. it’s just how newborn babies are. and he can’t take away your motherly duties either. he would if he could, but it’s too bad he’s not able to make his own milk for your baby. he can try to help you in other ways, though.

you’ve finally gotten your daughter to fall fast asleep in her crib, so you begin to drag your feet out from the bedroom and to the kitchen for a glass of water to cool yourself down. the sight laid before your eyes stops you in your tracks. kuroo is in front of the stove, and you can tell he’s grilling some type of meat on the pan from the soft sizzle. a fresh bouquet replaces the one that was left in the vase dying since you were too busy to bother buying a new one. small candles are lit and scattered across the kitchen island, creating a warm glow that lights up the dimly lit room. flower petals tossed around and oh you might just break down into tears right now.

you must have made a sound because kuroo turns around, a soft and understanding smile appearing on his face when he sees your expression. “i wanted to finally do something for you. i know we can’t go on a date somewhere fancy because of the baby, so i did the best i could,” he explains.

you shake your head. “kuroo. . . this is more than perfect,” you say, hands covering your mouth in awe.

his smile widens and he gives you a small nod before turning back to the meat grilling on the pan, flipping it over using the tongs in his hand with practiced ease. once he’s done he turns off the heat and places the grilled meat onto a plate. that’s when you pay attention to all of the other dishes scattered across the counter. every one of your favorite side dishes fill around a dozen plates to the brim. you breathe in the scent of simmered vegetables and fried croquettes as they hit your nose.

“you finally got our little princess to sleep?” he asks, opening the cabinet where you two keep that one fancy bottle of wine.

“yeah. took me a while, as always.”

he hums in response as he takes the bottle out and finds space to place it on the overflowing countertop. “i know. gave me some more time to get this ready, though.”

“when did you buy these flowers?” you ask, inspecting the beautiful arrangement of colors.

he smiles. “i got them on my way home from work. i saw them and thought of you, since i know they’re your favorite. and then i thought about this idea,” he gestures to the array of dishes as he speaks.

you raise a brow, “i didn’t see you with them when you got home.”

he starts carrying plates to the table, “i hid them behind the shoe rack. you’re not very observant when you’re tired, apparently.”

you let out an airy laugh at that and begin following his movements, grabbing plates to carry. he hears a plate clatter against the countertop as you pick it up and looks over his shoulder. “stop, stop. you’re not supposed to do anything. relax, i’ll handle it.”

you hesitate, and he’s quick to reassure you. “if you’re strong enough to handle our daughter day in and day out, i’m sure i can carry a few plates.”

you sigh, placing the dishes back onto the cold countertop surface. he’s right, as always. and you let him take care of you since there’s no reason for you to not. you take a seat at the table, watching as he makes rounds back and forth from the kitchen to you. he finally returns with just the wine bottle and two wine glasses in hand, placing them down on the table with a soft clink. then he sits in the seat right next to yours, not across, because kuroo is the type of man that absolutely despises it and claims it’s “too far.”

he pops open the cork and pours you two a glass, clinking his rim together with yours when you hold your glass out to him. you two eat, making small talk about how his long day at work was, about your baby girl, and everything in between. you eat slowly, savoring the taste of the food he went out of the way to make. and it tastes so good. nothing about your quick five minute sandwiches and microwave meals could even come close to the tender meat and flavorful sides. it’s been too long since you’ve sat down and had a meal that wasn’t rushed or interrupted by a crying baby. and a meal that was made with love. so, so much love.

“is it good?” kuroo asks in between bites, stabbing his fork into a vegetable.

“you don’t even know. i feel like im gonna cry,” you respond, words muffled from your mouth still stuffed with food. you stare at the small bit of remaining food on your plate, holding back tears.

he smiles softly, albeit a bit sadly, at your watery eyes and contorting features. “sorry i’m always at work. i know how tired you are.”

“it’s okay,” you say, shaking your head. you lean back in your chair, hands on your stomach, a tired but content sigh leaving your lips.

“full?” he asks.

you nod, and he stands up to take away the empty dishes. he returns and takes your hand, pulling you out of your seat. “come. i’ve got another surprise.”

he leads you towards the bathroom hand in hand, excitedly flicking on the lights to reveal the most romantic view you’ve ever seen. a similar sight is bestowed upon you as the one in the kitchen, with candles floating in the water accompanied by rose petals and a pink fizzy bath bomb with a subtle floral smell.

he places his hands on your shoulders from behind, leaning forward and tilting his head to look at your reaction in the dim lighting with an expectant grin. his voice is soft and warm, smoother than velvet. you feel his breath tickle your ear as he speaks, “i thought you might want to retire for the night with me. what do you say?” it’s phrased like a question, but he’s already gently and ever so slowly pulling down the straps of your top. you never would have said no anyways. not even in a million years.

masterlist | taglist | tags: @scoupsworld @amaliaaliena @mires765

a/n: i keep up loading baby stuff, ig this baby fever is becoming a phase.

© evamame 2025. all rights reserved. please do not repost, modify, steal, plagiarize, or translate my work.

[muqingslover]

Hii!! Love your writing!!

I wanted to ask if you have any hc about the lads men as fathers? For example, my hc was that Xavier is a boy dad that makes sure his kid will not end up listening to those "alpha podcasts" because he sets the example of a gentle yet "i slayed over 70,000 wanderers", kind yet assertive man. HOWEVER, since the level 175 affinity interaction came out, I'm 100% hes a girl dad raising his daughter to be a strong and independent woman (like the MC he loves dearly). What do you think?

[ my first ask! yahooo! thank you, pookie! I'll give you my thoughts in general (a big mix of everything) but if anyone wants one of the boys in more detail then feel free to ask because I have more to share! ]

Alright maybe this is a hot take but I don't think he wants children, like at all.

Xavier does NOT like sharing. He's literally jealous of himself for goodness sake and he really, reaaaally, does not want to share you, especially not with clingy children that would take almost if not all of your attention and also his sleep.

In-game he's also shown to not be super fond of children in general which I find hilarious.

He's lived a long life, sacrificed everything and everyone for you, and spent the rest of his years searching for you. He believes he has the right to be a bit selfish and keep you to himself. Let's be honest, he's earned it.

He does want children, but he is the type to plan for it. And I mean *plan*.

Out of everyone, he understands the best what it means for both your body and mental health the changes pregnancy would bring (including the chance of postpartum depression and other complications) so there would be a looooong discussion before anything happened.

When putting together the nursery it's like he's preparing for the apocalypse and not a baby "We might need this" (you won't be needing it), "This was made with [chemical], it could be toxic for you or the baby." "Zayne, it's just a plastic spoon."

Absolutely not as cool as he leads you to believe. You have this man stressed™ but he is so, soooo patient.

He'd be very serious about follow-up appointments and he'll make time for the both of you no matter what.

GIRL DAD ! GIRL DAD ! GIRL DAD !

100% victim of waking up covered in silly drawings and bows in his hair but he says before him than his poor white walls.

You have your hands full monitoring these two that love to sneak around and stuff their cheeks full like hamsters with sweets.

Now this man wants a whole LITTER if you'll let him.

Hear me out: TRIPLETS. Oooor, twins with a younger sibling right after. Maybe one more if you are really brave.

This was not planned at all, but when you tell him he's so happy he'd be in actual tears while hugging you.

Luke and Kieran are over the moon about it too. They'd be so cute with the children because they get to be big bros now and they take their role very seriously.

Sylus would pull out his phone or coat and it would be covered in cute stickers. He takes no action in getting rid of it though because he loves it.

Those children are S P O I L E D. You have to take the role of saying no otherwise he'd take over the world just because his baby asked to be queen of the world on a random Thursday.

I think he's on the same boat as Xavier but for different reasons.

I have some...perhaps...controversial takes on this little guy in general so I'll leave it open for your interpretation hehe

love him though<3

I know I know everyone says he'd be the best girl dad but PLEASE pleaaaase give this man a little boy.

If you think women's baby fever are bad just wait until you see Caleb's

He would draw on your belly bump where he thinks the baby is and talk to him even while you're asleep

This guy is taking lessons about pregnancy, how to support you during birth and he is 100% in one of those moms group chat.

"Caleb we do not need another onesie—" "But look! Look how cute it is! Oh, and the little hat? C'mon angel, please?" (Ban him from shopping by himself because he comes back with WAY too many things you do not need)

He loves and I mean LOVES matching clothes. From silly costumes, to pajamas and outside outfits.

So. Many. Pictures. He takes pictures all the time to keep them as memories because if something were to happen where you or he lost their memories again then they'd forever be preserved :(

[ I have so much more to say about this but maybe I'll just make a separate post for each of them ]

[mrsparrasblog]

POLY 141 x pregnant Reader

reaction if they are the biological father. if they are not the Dad

Postpartum Depression

Ever thought about what it would be like to be pregnant with this gigantic pile of handsome men? Because I've thought about it, and I can go into heavy detail—I will go into heavy detail!

Price: This man has a heavy breeding kink, and no one can convince me otherwise. He was so happy when he found out you were pregnant that he immediately got into heavy Dad mode. "What do you mean?" he asked after you told him he doesn't need to baby-proof the house when you're only in the second month. He attends baby preparation courses with you and overall turns into a super daddy.

Johnny: The second one with a heavy breeding kink is 100% sure he is the father. "It's the MacTavish genes," he says confidently. "We're going to have at least three bairns by the end of the five-year mark." He wouldn't admit it, but he called his mother crying while he told her the news. The MacTavish Family was special, so they all came with big stroller gifts and the urge to overwhelm you with their love. They don't care who the baby's biological father is; in their hearts, you're a MacTavish, exactly like your sweet little bairn.

Kyle: He is really excited. He already loves the baby and is also 100% sure it's his because you two have the most sex out of all of them. He always fights with Johnny about who the father probably is. Kyle is the one who thinks the most about you. He knows how you struggle with the pregnancy and how it isn't easy for you with all the overwhelming baby daddies around you, so he takes his time to care about you. He compliments you more than ever, and if you have a weird craving, he's already ordered it before you even said a word. He is constantly trying to find a baby-safe option of your favorite food. He doesn't drink coffee anymore so you don't mourn alone. Check-up? He is the first to be there, and when the baby was born and everyone looked at it, he went to you. Not because he loves the baby less—it's his world—but because he was so afraid the whole pregnancy of losing his soulmate, the only thing worth fighting for, the only thing that kept him alive.

Ghost: He never wanted kids—at least he thought he didn't—but it made sense with you. He knew you would be the best mother in the world. So why was he so afraid? He thought about how he could hurt the baby all the time with his pure strength or how he would scare the baby or hurt you. For a blissful second, he thought maybe it would be better if he left so you'd be safe from all the shadows of his past. But he was better than his family. He bought lots of parenting books, went to his psychologist regularly, and attended dad meetings, not daddy meetings—a terrible mistake he made. He even bought you a guard dog for the possibility that you and the baby are alone. To his surprise, but not to yours, he was the most gentle and understanding dad there ever was.

Dont ask me why my brain came up with this weird stuff again but Im already thinking about how they react when they found out who the biological father is lol

[yardsards]

@thespaghettiman427 okay part 2!

adamellie's parents were named malthi of the house of wynd (her elf father) and merrimack bobs (her half-foot mother)

the house of wynd was a wealthy and well-respected elven family from the southern central continent. they weren't officially recognized as nobles by any royalty, but they were rich enough to live like nobles (and referred to themselves as such), and the wynd trading company was a household name

in recent decades, however, business has been on the decline, and their wealth and reputation has been slipping away.

malthi was the sole heir to the house of wynd. when he was given control of the wynd trading company, he made it his goal to return it to its former glory. he has since made many risky business deals and investments, rapidly cycling the company between massive profits and massive losses (and earning himself a reputation as a reckless businessman).

through it all, he acted like he was still fabulously wealthy with no concerns over the state of his business. anyone In The Know was well aware that it was an act, but others were fooled.

merrimack came from a family of artisans in the eastern continent. she was known as the wild child of her family, and had failed to pick up either of her parents' crafts. when she was 16, her parents had decided that merrimack should travel west with a family friend who had business there, in hopes that seeing the world would help their daughter mature and figure out what she wanted to do with her life.

while in a port city in the southern central continent, merrimack stopped at a tavern and met malthi, a charming young elven man. (and, even better, he claimed to be rich!) she was immediately interested in him, and he seemed just as smitten.

the two had a passionate affair. when merrimack realized she was pregnant, the two of them decided to elope.

malthi's parents were pissed. they had hoped their son would find an elven noblewoman to marry and bring fortune to their family. instead, he had married a *half-foot*, which was very taboo. 

merrimack's parents were upset that they weren't invited to the wedding, but were overall hopeful that their daughter had settled down wuth someone who could provide for her.

adamellie was born, and they were happy together for a while. but this wouldn't last.

the honeymoon period passed and differences in personality and opinion popped up between merrimack and malthi (differences they would have noticed if they didn't rush into marriage so quickly)

the two also bickered frequently about malthi's risky financial decisions 

as the years went by, the strain got worse. merrimack had matured a lot over the years, but malthi was still the same young man he used to be. the things merri used to find charming and fun about her husband now seemed infuriatingly immature. 

living in the southern central continent was also grating for her, as the majority elven population there tended to discriminate against her or treat her like a pitiful child. her in-laws were the worst about this.

(privately, she also found it frustrating to have spent nearly a decade raising a daughter who was still just a toddler)

so eventually, she left and went back to the eastern continent to live with her sister and help care for her parents. (she was too young to remember it, but adamellie spent weeks crying for her mama after this).

from then on, merrimack wasn't a very big part of her daughter's life, only contacting her through monthly letters, or a visit every couple years.

adamellie was her papa's little princess. she loved him, and he absolutely spoiled her. she was his pride and joy, and he'd do anything to make her smile.

she grew slowly, closer to an elven rate, for her babyhood as well as around puberty, but for most of her childhood she aged a bit closer to a half-foot rate. her mental maturity lagged a bit behind her physical maturity, but it was hard for elves to notice this, since her half-foot heritage made her look smaller/younger than an elf at a comparable physical maturity stage.

adamellie learned to view friendships as transient things. she'd befriend elven children, but the two would inevitably drift apart as she outgrew them. or, living in a port city, she'd befriend children and then have to say goodbye as their family sailed away again. she clung extra hard to her dad, she didn't want him to leave her life like everyone else did.

there were elven schools available, but due to adamellie's unusual maturity rate, malthi decided his daughter should be taught about academics and magic by private tutors, and learn the art of business from himself. he wanted to prepare her to inherit the wynd trading company, and frequently taught her the lesson "in order to reap great rewards, you need to be willing to take great risks".

she liked spending time with her dad, and was excited to continue the family business that her dad seemed to care about almost as much as he cared about her.

as adamellie began reaching her adolescence, malthi began courting a new woman, an elven commoner named swilda (no noblewoman would have him).

adamellie was NOT happy about her dad's new girlfriend. a bit for normal kid reasons, but a bit was because her father was paying noticeably less attention to his daughter in favour of his new partner- to the point where swilda herself would scold him and tell him to pay less attention to her and more attention to his child.

malthi and swilda married after a couple years of courting. (a short courting period by elven standards, but malthi tended to rush into things, and swilda wanted a stable way out of her parents' home)

swilda was nearly perfect as a step-mother. she was more stern than malthi and didn't spoil adamellie like he did (she was a more responsible person than her husband, despite being slightly younger than him), but her sternness was the loving and attentive type, rather than the controlling type. she showed near infinite patience towards her new step-daughter's antics (as well as to her husband's foolishness)

adamellie had complicated feelings towards her stepmother, but slowly but surely grew attached.

after another couple years, swilda got pregnant, and then adamellie's half-sister jubal was born.

adamellie was Not Having A Good Time with this. again, this was half childish jealousy, and half a reaction to how her father was acting. he seemed to forget she existed at times, too preoccupied with the shiny new baby. she even overheard him talking about leaving the wynd trading company to jubal ("after all, it's not like a half elf can continue our bloodline anyway"), even though he had spent years training adamellie to take over the company and jubal was still just a baby. (the company wasn't even worth that much at this point, but it was the spirit of the thing)

swilda, meanwhile, was exhausted and sick after her pregnancy, and was unable to provide much attention to adamellie either.

adamellie made sure that if she was having a bad time, then the rest of the family would suffer too. she caused a lot of trouble for everyone.

one day, after adamellie had acted out again, swilda said that she and malthi had agreed that adamellie should go to Far Away Boarding School For Noble Elven Adolescents.

adamellie cried and apologized and begged them not to get rid of her. swilda said that they weren't getting rid of her, they just felt like she wasn't thriving at home and that a change of environment might help her feel better. malthi said that since her growth had slowed down to a more normal elven rate, a normal school should be good for her, and allow her to make new friends.

adamellie felt like this was all an excuse to get rid of her now that they've replaced her with a perfect new daughter, but she gave up on arguing and agreed to go.

she had A Bad Time at boarding school. it was her first time away from her father and her first time in any formal education setting, having to follow so many rules. and her rich/noble elven classmates ostracized her, due to her half-foot heritage and the fact that her father wasn't a real nobleman (adamellie started and lost a lot of fistfights over this). worst of all, she was stuck dealing with her feelings of abandonment with no one there to support her.

it was a cycle, she felt bad, so she acted out, so her teachers punished her and her classmates ostracized her more, so she felt worse, so she acted out more. it was a miracle she didn't get expelled

during this time, letters from merrimack stopped coming. adamellie was afraid to ask if merrimack had died of old age and nobody bothered to pass the news onto her, or if her biological mother had finally decided to fully abandon her too. (if she didn't ask, she could just pretend the usually-punctual letters got lost in the mail somehow this time)

adamellie emotionally withdrew from her attachments to her father and step-mother. (she got letters and fairy calls from them, but kept her responses polite but distant). outwardly, this looked like she had stopped acting out and was seen as a good thing.

when she came home for a school break, her father and step-mother seemed a lot brighter and happier than they were before they sent her away.

they noticed that she was acting different, too. malthi praised her for this change in her behavior, but swilda realized something was wrong and pressed adamellie for details. adamellie said that she hated the boarding school and that the teachers and other students were mean to her, but did not admit how lonely and abandoned she felt.

swilda said that while she still thought adamellie should be in school with peers, she acknowledged that that school was not good for her, and said that she could come back home and commute to Nearby School For Common Youths instead. 

malthi disagreed and said that his daughter should stay at Far Away Boarding School For Noble Elven Adolescents because she shouldn't allow herself to back down when things get tough, but he gave in due to swilda's pressure 

adamellie had less of a bad time at Nearby School For Common Youths and finished her education there. she didn't let herself form any close friendships, but tried to make herself generally likeable.

at home, she was happy to be among her family (even, begrudgingly, her baby sister, though she was still a bit jealous), but she didn't allow herself to become fully re-attached to them like she was before they sent her away.

not long after graduation, she decided she wanted to leave home to try some business ventures of her own. she asked her father for some money to start her own venture and a ticket to the island where the dungeon was (she heard there was money aplenty to be made in that dungeon), promising that she'd bring a good profit to the family business. he agreed and gave her what she asked.

she's determined to prove to her father that she can be a brave and skilled businesswoman and can be a valuable family member. she mostly wants to make her dad proud of her, but a part of her wants to make him regret how he pushed her away.

BONUS STUFF:

-she is often mistaken as a gnome (albeit one with extra large low-set ears and proportionally long legs/short torso)

-if anyone asks what she is, she'll usually just say "half elf" or sometimes just "elf". partially because that seems to be the default with half-elves in this series (at least, with half-tallman half-elves). but partially because she's not got a lot of ties to half-foot culture and grew up among elves. possibly even has some internalized shame about her half-foot heritage because of how general elven society treated her.

-some people call half-half-foots "quarter-foots" as a cute nickname. a bit ironic, considering quarter-foots are generally bigger than half-foots

-one of the hundreds of things adamellie's parents cannot agree on is how to pronounce their own daughter's name. merrimack says "it's ada-mellie. we went with mellie because of my great aunt ellamellie, and ada because we both thought it was a pretty name". malthi says "it's adam-ellie. adam like adamantine, and ellie just because it sounds cute". merrimack is objectively the one who is remembering correctly here, but adamellie pronounces her own name adam-ellie due to spending most of her childhood with malthi.

-she likes to sort/organize things as a way to warm up/get in the right state of mind for spellcasting. since organizing her wares isn't always practical, she keeps a deck of cards on her that she likes to shuffle and then put back in order. (she used to have a pouch of marbles that she used for a similar purpose, but they made noise when she walked, so they were a bad idea to bring into the dungeon)

-she had kinda ratty hair growing up cuz she inherited her curls from her mother, and her dad had no clue how to take care of it, nor did most of her nannies

-unlike most nobility, she never had to serve in the canaries. a bit because the southern central continent isn't as directly under the control of the elf queen as the northern central continent, a bit because their family barely counts as nobility anymore, a bit because she's a half-elf and is thus seen as undesirable

sir you must tell me everything about adamellie at your earliest convenience.

as well as perhaps a visual depiction via art or picrew???

goobnight

okay so here is a picrew of her i made bc i have art block (it's not perfect like i think her hair is curlier than this, and i'm still unsure on certain details or her clothes, but Close Enough)

and here's an adventurer's bible style character sheet:

full name: adamellie of the house of wynd

age: 47

race/gender: half elf, half half-foot / female

birthplace: the southern central continent 

relatives: father, mother (likely deceased), step-mother, half-sister

build: 120 cm, 22 bmi

likes: custard, oysters

dislikes: anything with a visible face (i.e. fish heads)

first death: treasure insects

(though some of this may be subject to change, especially her age. half-elves tend to mature at unpredictable rates and idk what maturity timeline i like best for her. maturity-wise she's in her early 20s, though. like, she is definitely an adult but her prefrontal cortex isn't quite done cooking yet)

okay so adamellie's existence kinda came from three main different thoughts

1: the corpse collectors/revival office are fascinating, i wonder what other kinds of financial exploitation can occur in the dungeon, like "pay for my services or you will literally die without them" situations

2: teleportation magic is interesting, especially those scrolls like mr tansu used. i wonder how someone could take advantage of those sorts of mechanics in a story that is so much about traversing a physical space

3: we see half-elves that are half-tallman. and the adventurer's bible mentions that tallmen can have fertile offspring with ogres or half-foots, as can gnomes with dwarves. i wonder what other combinations could exist

so adamellie's thing is like. so teleportation scrolls work like this, right?

well she basically saw the "this technique shouldn't be used unless absolutely necessary" and was like "hm yeah but what if i did anyway?" (it's risky and dubiously legal but that ain't stopping her)

she's got a few storerooms on the surface that she packs absolutely full of adventuring supplies. mostly food and drinks and medicine and mana herbs, but a couple spare bedrolls and clothes and weapons and whatnot as well.

she's got a teleportation scroll hooked up to each of her storerooms, and when she needs something, she just unfurls one of her scrolls, reaches in, and pulls whatever she needs out from her storeroom. it's not quite a bag of holding, but it's pretty damn close

it's a pretty unstable technique, but miraculously she's managed to not die or lose any limbs from this method yet, so she sees no reason to change it. the main mishaps she's encountered thus far are

1: on occasion, the scroll she carries with her randomly loses connection with the storeroom it's linked to, meaning she loses access to about a quarter of her inventory. sometimes she's able to reopen it, but doing so is very costly in terms of time and mana, so she typically just counts it as a loss for this trip. this has happened many times

2: a few times, she's gone through the scroll, either to escape a dangerous situation or to try and grab something from deep in the storeroom, and the portal closed behind her. this meant she was forced to exit through the storeroom's actual door and return to the surface many weeks before she had planned

3: she found a corpse on a lower floor while she was out of mana, so she put it in one of her storerooms for safekeeping until she could recover her mana and revive him. the scroll failed while the body was in there, meaning the corpse was no longer part of the dungeon and was just in some random storage closet on the surface, so the guy was unrevivable. oopsie daisies! (she only made this mistake once but it was a real mess)

4: thieves on the surface broke into a couple of her storerooms, breaking the spell (and stealing her stuff). she's been very careful to avoid this since then, using very strong locks on the physical doors of the storerooms.

despite the risks though, this is a pretty effective strategy in a dungeon where one of the biggest obstacles is your access to supplies. so what is she doing with it? is she an invaluable asset to some party hoping to defeat the mad mage? nah.

she's not sure she believes in the golden kingdom prophesy (and she thinks other monetary ventures like gold stripping, monster-culling, and selling research are all oversaturated markets). and she thinks that a party would just slow her down and attract unnecessary monster attention (and take a cut of her profits) anyway. she's just in the game to make a quick buck with her unique strategy.

she is a merchant, selling wares from her storerooms to desperate adventurers on lower floors, for absolutely exorbitant prices. it's not like they're in any position to haggle food prices when they're starving, after all. (she also does occasional healing or resurrection magic when she finds someone injured or dead, demanding high fees afterwards. if they refuse to pay, she says "okay, then do you want me to undo what i just did and injure/kill you again?" (she is absolutely bluffing. she sucks shit at fighting.) and if someone cannot afford to pay her in the moment, she makes them sign a contract that they'll repay her later, and puts a tracking charm on them)

she plays it fast and loose in the dungeon, traveling alone and spending a lot of time in lower floors. she uses her stealth skills, supplemented with magic, to sneak past monsters. when she's in a really dangeous situation (whether because a monster noticed her, or because an adventurer got Really Mad at her) she'll hop through one of her scrolls to the safety of her storerooms.

every couple months (or more, often if/when her scrolls fail) she returns to the surface to restock her storerooms and reset/repair/replace her teleportation scrolls. then, once that's done, she returns to the dungeon, trying to reach the lower floors again as quickly as possible.

she calls herself heroic, bringing food to the starving and reviving people at levels that most corpse retrievers often avoid. adventurers have mixed feelings on her. on one hand, running into her when you're in need can be a literal life saver. on the other hand, she is exploiting people while they're at their lowest

i will tell more about her and her backstory and family later bc it is A Doozy and this post is already insanely long lol

[xavistarlight]

I knew to love would be to lose my mind

Pairing: Caleb x fem!reader

CW : ANGST, reader is most likely experiencing undiagnosed postpartum depression.

You sit on the couch completely zoned out, every once in a while bouncing the baby on your chest.

As you turn your head you look out the window a group of lively people that seem to be about your age, having the time of their lives.

You turn your focus back to the babygirl on your chest, smiling at her with tired eyes.

God it wasn’t supposed to end up this way, you weren’t supposed to be one of those moms who’s baby is there whole life.

Your train of thought broken as you hear a knock on the door

Placing your babygirl down in her pack and play you go to open the door.

There stands a charming, violet eyed man full of life, your husband Caleb.

His brightness usually shining and brightening your light now blew your light bulb completely out stripping it of its already dim light.

He engulfs you in a hug

“ hi honey, you been okay today?“ he asks sweetly

“Mhm, same as always Caleb.” You say a little snippy pulling away from his hug.

It wasn’t right, you knew it he was the perfect partner, the perfect father , the perfect support system you had no right to be mad at him. But you couldn’t help but resent him he had it all he got to continue with his career, he wasnt stressed, the baby loved him. He juggled it all with a big bright smile on his face.

A part of you wanted him to fuck up so bad, god could he mess up at something anything just a reminder that he was human, that he was in the same boat as you.

You two now lay in bed snuggled close to one another as you feel something hard pressing into you

You flip over quickly startling Caleb who was dozing off.

He then looks down even more startled.

“Pips I’m so sorry, I didn’t even know let me go take care of it” he give you a boyish grin but as he gets up to move you place your hand on his shoulder.

“ or.. I could help you with it”

“ honey, there’s no pressure you know what the doctor said just a little longer I miss you to but we gotta wait” he says kissing your cheek

That’s when you break, you just break all of your emotions you’ve held inside come out.

“ are you fucking kidding me” you stare at him blankly

“ so now I can’t even be intimate with my husband right, what the fuck can I do” you chuckle to yourself

“ honey that’s not-“ Caleb tries to say something but you cut him off

“ no, don’t even Caleb it’s true I don’t do anything right I’m a failure, I’m a failure at being a mother , a wife , a hunter at everything”

Caleb grabs your hand his violet eyes holding so much emotion trying to get through to you

“ baby, don’t say that our daughter absolutely adores you, and you’re the light of my life and the greatest hunter I’ve ever known. It’s tough I know I have my moments to-“

You let out a condescending chuckle

“easy for you to say, you’ve never failed at anything. I’ve known you my entire life and if I counted the time you failed it could probably fit on one finger, so don’t feed that bullshit to me Caleb, like I don’t know you”

Caleb goes to say something again but you cut him off angrily

“ god you know what Caleb get out”

He looks at you shocked how had the conversation escalated this far.

“ baby, I don’t understand?”

“ I HATE you Caleb what is there to not understand I RESENT YOU I resent you with all my being. I wish I’d never MET YOU.”

“ pipsqueak, you don’t mean that” he says going to hold your hand again tears welling in his eyes.

“ no Caleb I mean it , I love you but I hate you all in the same breath, I’m losing my mind I can’t take it anymore!” you pull your hand back tears streaming down your face either out of anger or sadness you can’t tell maybe the latter.

Caleb’s heart shatters into pieces, he was bringing you all this pain? This whole time he was trying to help but your heart was aching with an unfixable crack. And it wouldn’t heal until he was gone.

so he agreed, he got up silently packing a bag of necessities as you sat and watched an unreadable expression on your face.

As he’s about to walk out the door of your shared room he stops himself before turning back around a devastating look plastered across his face.

“ can… I have a kiss goodbye” he speaks lowly

You nod silently enough words had come from your mouth tonight.

He walks over to you timidly before placing a kiss to the crown of your head. A tender, loving bittersweet kiss.

Staying like that for a few seconds as you hear him sniffle holding back his tears.

That night you cry yourself to sleep unsure of what emotions you’re even feeling.

You get up in the middle of the night to check on your babygirl stopping by the bathroom to splash your face with some water, looking at yourself in the mirror eyes filled with devastation puffy from the sobs let out as you curled into yourself on the bed.

as you make it to her room you open the door and look to the right.

Asleep in the rocking chair, under eyes just as red and puffy as the eyes that had looked back at you in the mirror when you got up.

Caleb

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[ice-man-goes-bwoah]

Rage||Dad!Carlos Sainz x mom!reader

Summary — y/n is struggling with postpartum depression and doesn’t know how to cope with it but luckily for her Carlos is there to reassure her.

Warnings — reader is angry with herself mentions of postpartum depression in the form of anger.

Word count — 1k

A/n this was better in my head

The baby won’t stop crying.

Y/N stands over the crib, staring down at the tiny, writhing body beneath the mobile. The cries pierce through her skull, rattling around in her brain, setting every nerve on edge.

She should pick her up. That’s what a mother is supposed to do. Scoop her baby into her arms, whisper soft reassurances, rock her until the sobs quiet.

But she can’t move.

Her arms feel like lead. Her chest is tight, so tight, like something is pressing down on it, squeezing all the air from her lungs. The cries drill into her temples, and suddenly, the frustration is unbearable.

“Please,” she rasps, voice hoarse from exhaustion. “Please, just stop.”

The baby doesn’t stop.

Y/N squeezes her eyes shut, shame burning in her throat. She doesn’t mean it. She doesn’t mean any of it.

A warm hand lands on her shoulder.

“Querida.”

Carlos.

She jumps slightly, not having heard him come in. She blinks up at him, taking in the concern etched across his face, the furrow between his brows. He looks exhausted too, but not in the same way she does. He looks like a man who wants to fix something but doesn’t know how.

“I’ve got her,” he murmurs, stepping closer. “Go take a break.”

Y/N’s body moves on autopilot, stepping back as Carlos reaches into the crib. The moment the baby is no longer her responsibility, something in her stomach twists violently—guilt, shame, relief.

She should stay. She should offer to help.

Instead, she turns and walks out of the room.

Carlos watches her go, his heart sinking.

Something is wrong. Y/N has been different ever since the baby was born. He expected exhaustion, stress, frustration—but this is more than that. She doesn’t smile like she used to. She barely looks at him anymore, as if making eye contact is too much effort. And the way she just stood there, unmoving, staring at the crib like she was trapped.

He exhales slowly, rocking their daughter Mirella against his chest.

She won’t talk to him. Not really. Whenever he asks how she’s feeling, she brushes him off with a clipped, “I’m fine,” or, “Just tired.” But this isn’t just tiredness.

This is something else.

And he doesn’t know how to help her.

The silence in the house after Carlos calmed mirella down is deafening. Y/N is sitting at the kitchen table, her head resting in her hands. The baby is now napping safely in her crib, the house finally quiet after a day of endless crying and constant movement. But it doesn’t feel peaceful, it feels hostile in a way that makes the hair on the back of y/ns neck stand.

Carlos steps into the kitchen, looking at her with concern. “Y/N, please. You have to talk to me.”

She looks up at him, eyes heavy, glazed with exhaustion. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Just—tell me what’s wrong. Tell me how you’re feeling.”

Her jaw tightens. She shakes her head, unable to put into words what’s happening inside her.

“I don’t know,” she mutters, voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

Carlos’s frustration begins to build, but he keeps his voice calm. “You don’t have to explain it perfectly, Y/N. I just need to know you’re okay.”

“I’m not okay,” she snaps, the words slipping out before she can stop them. “I’m not okay, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

His eyes widen at her outburst, and she instantly regrets it. The anger, the frustration—it’s bubbling up, but she doesn’t know how to stop it.

“Y/N, we’re in this together. You don’t have to carry it all by yourself.”

She laughs bitterly, her hands trembling as she clenches them on the table. “I don’t know how to let you in. You wouldn’t understand.”

Carlos takes a step closer, his tone softer. “You don’t know that. But I can’t help if you don’t let me.”

Her throat closes up. She wants to let him in, wants to explain the chaos inside her, but the words won’t come. The weight of it is too much, and she’s terrified if she says it aloud, it’ll consume her.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she whispers.

He reaches for her, but she pulls away, the walls she’s built around herself closing in even tighter.

“I can’t… I just can’t.”

The silence stretches between them, heavy with unspoken words. Carlos stands there, helpless. He doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know how to break through the wall Y/N has built around herself.

Finally, after what feels like forever, he sighs. “I’m not giving up on you, Y/N. You don’t have to do this alone.”

She looks up at him, tears welling in her eyes.

“I don’t know how to let you help me,” she whispers, her voice breaking.

Carlos stays silent, stepping back and giving her the space she needs.

The next morning Carlos walks into his parents’ house, their daughter snugly tucked in her car seat. The familiar warmth of his childhood home surrounds him, the scent of his mother’s cooking wafting through the air.

His mom is in the kitchen, chopping vegetables, her face lighting up when she sees him.

“Carlos, mijo, what a nice surprise.” She wipes her hands on her apron before bending down to greet her granddaughter, cooing at her softly.

“Hi, Mom,” he says quietly, his hands resting on the car seat as he gently pulls it closer.

She gives him a warm smile. “What brings you by today?”

He hesitates, looking down at his daughter. “Can we talk?”

His mom’s expression shifts, a hint of concern crossing her features. “Of course, mijo. Come sit down.”

Carlos pulls out a chair at the kitchen table, and after a moment, his mother joins him.

“Is everything okay with Y/N?” she asks, her voice soft and knowing.

Carlos sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair. “No. She’s… different. Not like she used to be.”

His mom watches him closely, her face serious. “Different how?”

“I don’t know. She’s just… angry. She’s distant. I don’t know what’s going on with her, and I don’t know how to help.”

His mother looks at him with understanding, pausing before she speaks. “Carlos, she’s struggling.”

“Struggling?”

“Yes. With postpartum depression.”

Carlos’s heart sinks, the words hitting him harder than he expects. “Postpartum depression?” he repeats, his voice barely a whisper.

His mom nods slowly, her hands folding in her lap. “It’s not always obvious. Some women, like Y/N, may hide it, but it’s there. It doesn’t always show up in the ways you think. Sometimes it’s anger, frustration, or just feeling like you can’t breathe.”

Carlos stares at her, feeling a cold knot form in his stomach. “Why didn’t I see it?”

“You’re not the first to miss it, mijo,” his mother says softly. “You’re doing your best, but she needs more than just your presence. She needs understanding, patience, and to know that she’s not alone in this.”

He looks at his daughter, his heart breaking. “I don’t know what to do, Mom.”

His mother reaches across the table, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Take her somewhere safe. Somewhere she can release it. It’s okay to be angry, Carlos. But she needs a way to let it out before it eats her up.”

Carlos nods slowly, trying to process everything. “Thank you, Mom.”

“You’re a good husband, Carlos. Just remind her that you’re not giving up on her, no matter what.”

After the conversation, Carlos feels a mix of guilt and relief. He now understands what’s been happening with Y/N, but the road ahead still feels uncertain. He thanks his mom one last time and heads home, his mind racing with the weight of it all.

When he walks through the front door, he finds Y/N sitting in the kitchen, staring blankly at her coffee cup. She looks tired, her eyes hollow and distant.

“I’m taking you somewhere,” he says firmly.

That gets her attention. She blinks at him, confusion flickering across her face. “What?”

He pulls out the chair across from her and sits down. His gaze is steady, unwavering. “I want to take you somewhere.”

She frowns. “Carlos, I don’t want to go anywhere.”

“Please.” His voice is gentle, but firm. “Just trust me.”

She exhales slowly, rubbing her temples. She’s too tired to argue.

“Fine.”

The rage room is not what she expected. Y/N stares at the space, at the shelves lined with old furniture, shattered TVs, and stacks of plates waiting to be broken. The bat Carlos hands her feels foreign in her grip.

“You’re joking,” she mutters.

Carlos shakes his head. “You’re angry.”

She stiffens. “I—”

He doesn’t let her finish. “I see it, cariño. I see how hard you’re trying to hold it in.”

Her throat tightens. She hates that he’s right.

She swallows, gripping the bat harder. “Okay.”

The first swing is hesitant. The plate shatters, but it’s not enough.

The second is harder.

By the fifth, something inside her cracks wide open.

The rage pours out of her, untamed and violent, with every swing, every crunch of glass under her feet. She swings and swings and swings, until her arms shake, until her vision blurs—

Until suddenly, she’s not angry anymore.

She’s sobbing.

The bat slips from her hands, clattering to the floor. She presses her palms to her face, trying to hold herself together, but it’s useless. The sobs wracked her body, unstoppable, uncontrollable.

And then Carlos is there.

Strong arms wrap around her, pulling her into his chest. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice steady, warm, grounding. “I’m here.”

She clutches at his shirt, gasping for air. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Nothing is wrong with you, mi amor.” His hands cup her face, his thumbs brushing away her tears. “You’re not alone. We’ll get through this together.”

The words break something open inside her.

For the first time in weeks, she believes him.

[muniimyg]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ bbydaddy!jk (16) ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

series m.list // taglist request closed

note: please prioritize your mental health and peace if the following content is too heavy for you. this portion of the plot has a lot of angst, and arguing. overall contains sensitive topics. thank you all for waiting so well for the break-up reveal!

tw: mentions of anxiety/stress/insomnia/ and postpartum depression,, early pregnancy loss (5 weeks), and self-neglect.

🏷️ permanent taglist:

@joonsjuice @pamzn @defzcl @maryy1300 @whoa-jo @taetaecatboy @jksusawife @un06 @firesighgirl @rrosiitas @butterymin @parkinglot-nights @musicjournalsjdb @kissyfacekoo @jkslvsnella @vampcharxter @bloopkook @somehowukook @bbystarcandykoo

//

"so... jungkook moved back in, he bought you a new car, and this entire time you've been broken up—you've been sleeping with him?"

it feels stupid to confess everything to your therapist.

you’ve been avoiding this for 9 months now. 

today it has to be settled. 

it has to be over. 

this feeling in the pit of your stomach that makes you want to throw up over and over again until you have nothing left inside of you. your lips tighten at the way your therapist blinks at you. you've never really been able to read her, but maybe that's what you like so much about her.

sometimes, it's nice not to know and just to take what people say as they are.

"he's not actually moved back in... he just has more closet space."

your therapist notes something down on her pad. then, she looks at you and simply comments, "i see... is that all you think it is? more closet space?"

"y-yes? n-no... no. okay, it's not like we're not back together though..." you begin to explain yourself.

"but you've been sleeping with him the entire time you guys have been broken up?"

you make a face.

your therapist tilts her head and lets out a light sigh. 

"i'm not judging. you two are adults. you both have needs. you both need each other. you both love each other. i'm just clarifying that—"

"okay, yes," you yield. "i have been sleeping with my babydaddy but haven’t gotten back together with him... i mean—we kind of are? to be fair, the break-up wasn’t a real break-up... it just grew into one. i take the blame for the dumping because i was the one who pulled away. so inevitably, i can't help but feel like a villain in all of it... am i? am i the villain? zion had this whole thing about what family is like, a home with another kid from his daycare, and it... it made me feel so guilty. jungkook and i talked about it and worked on it... i know he doesn't blame me, but every time i bring myself closer to... what do i even call this? ... forgiving him? forgiving myself? i d-don't know... all i know is that... every time i want to move on and just be happy—with him. with zion... with my life—i can't find it in me. i pull away, and it hurts everyone around us. sometimes, i wonder if they know it hurts me too."

"what does that mean?" she asks, her tone soft and curious. "good job getting that off your chest. you're doing great, ___."

mumbling a 'thank you,' you sigh and shrug your shoulders. honestly, you can’t think. your mind goes blank. she then sits up, fixing her posture. leaning forward, she makes her observation.

"___, you broke up with jungkook 9 months ago because of the circumstances. sure, he was supportive and understanding, but sometimes, when everything gets too much, the only person who can fix you is yourself. ___, it was a lot. it was heavy. one thing I've noticed about you is that you think and speak as if everything has to be this big thing. you know your emotions are bigger than the problem, yet you suppress them. it's okay to feel them because when you don't, you start to lose yourself. sometimes, it sounds to me like you want to burn the room down for people to empathize with you... for people to see you. for you to see yourself even."

"i don't want to burn anything down—"

"it's an analogy," she explains. "the truth is, for you, being burned out isn’t a thing until you can’t get out of bed. burnout is as simple as not wanting coffee anymore. sometimes, it's losing yourself to stress and anxiety... and people see that. jungkook, your friends, and your parents saw it. you don’t have to prove it. ___, you can’t keep pushing yourself until you can’t run anymore. you have to slow down. you have to let yourself be tired and learn how to rest."

you nod, agreeing with her take. then, you make another confession.

"i understand that," you take a deep breath. "but it’s like… before i knew it, i was upset and unfit for our relationship. i screwed up too early. that's why i broke up with him... but now... i don’t know. the guilt and blame keep pointing in different directions. i don’t know what i'm doing, and i can't do that. i can't not know when it comes to the father of my child and the love of my life."

your therapist purses her lips and offers you a small smile.

"then, ___... is it possible that things are better now? that it's more than his clothes in your home? that the room isn’t burning anymore? is it that maybe... finally, you’re realizing that being tired and burnt out is a part of life? ___, you’ve done nothing but get everything right since your childhood... to let your feelings—good or bad—be true and big isn’t a flaw. it’s you being human."

her words hit you, but not enough to stop your insecurities. with shaky eyes, you ask her, "w-what if i do it again?"

"do what again? burnout?"

"what if i fuck up everything about my life again? my career? motherhood? jungkook and i’s relationship? it hurt so bad... to wake up next to my family and not feel anything. it was so fucking hard... i couldn’t even pretend that i was okay. a-and when i asked for some air... he wasn’t even mad at me. he packed his bags and lost his breath from crying so much. at the door, he asked me if i was sure... and even though i wasn’t; i said yes...." you explain, your voice growing quieter with each word.

suddenly, everything feels so heavy. 

if there was ever a time to understand and relate to the feeling of the world being on your shoulders... this would be that moment. taking a breath, you compose yourself.

"i can’t do that again," you vow. "i can’t change my mind."

"you can’t change your mind again or you can’t hurt like that again?"

you pause.

"9 months ago, my mind kept going back and forth whether or not jungkook cared about me," you confess. "but i recently realized he does. he has. he always will... i just don’t know if i can trust him the same as before... i think i’m a horrible person for thinking that. weird, right? especially with how fucking horrible i am to him now."

"that’s not true." your therapist disagrees. "___, it was traumatic. you went through a lot—"

"—and i will never understand how he held himself together. when he was accused of plagiarism at his company, i took those accusations and sued until jungkook’s name was spotless. it was hard on both of us. he didn’t want me to go that far because they were his coworkers—his ‘friends’—but why... why was he so pathetic then? those people were out to ruin him. they quit the company and went to jyp. they proposed work that belonged to jungkook... it was a conflict of interest! when jungkook launched his work with hybe, jyp accused him of plagiarism. hybe cut ties with him and his company gave him so much shit for losing hybe. and i, his girlfriend and mother of his child, risked my career to focus on his case instead of my clients. i chose him. i did everything to fight for him. then, he told me he wanted to settle and stay at the company... i couldn’t believe it... he had his reputation on the line—his career! mine was too and all for what? because he didn’t want to embarrass his friends? because he didn’t want to cause the company more trouble? then, what about me? what about us?"

your therapist looks at you with sincere eyes. she nods, taking your words in. 

"___, does he know you’re still upset with his decision?"

"yes," you sigh, recalling how betrayed you felt. "w-we don’t talk about it. how do we? it felt like i wasted 2 months of my life and we lost our—we lost."

your therapist reaches over and offers you the tissue box. you didn’t even realize you were crying... but the silence between you two and the ache from the words that you just said begins to sting your chest.

after a few moments, your therapist softly tells you, "___, i don’t think you left him because you didn’t love him... i think you left because, despite everything, you did. that hurt because it meant loving him and putting him before yourself... on top of that, you were at a state where you should have been put first."

you gulp.

she purses her lips and makes her hit.

"___, do you resent yourself for the loss?"

you clench your fist as your therapist rubs salt into your open wounds. "the self-neglect? the stress? the post-partum depression? the insomia—"

"i resent myself for the loss," you admit. "... and i resent jungkook for losing me."

when you arrive home, jungkook is in the kitchen cooking. 

you didn’t expect him to be home. he was supposed to be picking zion up at this time and you were looking forward to some alone time. clearly, you have a lot to think about. as you take off your shoes, jungkook turns his attention to you.

“hi honey,” he smiles brightly. 

truth be told, he had a long day. he was running late this morning and had rushed out the door. as he drove to work, he got annoyed with himself. 

he forgot to kiss you before he left. 

so you can imagine just how excited he is to see you now… especially with all he has planned for tonight. 

“we had a meeting today and it ended early. it went really well so i have some news! also, i picked zion up right after my meeting. took him out for a little father-and-son afternoon... then, i dropped him off at your parents—”

“why would you do that?” you snap, putting your things away.

jungkook chuckles. “uh, maybe because i wanna ask you something tonight…”

your body stiffens.

“but we’ll get to that later! do you want to eat first? i’m cooking your favorite—”

“please stop,” you shut your eyes and take a breath. “jungkook, i had a long day. i’m glad yours was good and you got to bond with zion. i appreciate the effort—i just don’t… i don’t like that you dropped zion off at my parents after picking him up early from daycare. why didn’t you just take him home? and thank you for cooking... but i had a late lunch today, so i’m not hungry.”

“is it so bad i want to spend time with you alone?” jungkook asks, his smile fading. 

jungkook isn’t stupid. 

he knows you’re not in the mood, but he can’t help but push your boundaries a little. besides, communication is always good, right? at least, that’s what he’s been told. 

“it’s okay if you don’t want to eat... as long as you ate today. what did you eat?” he attempts. 

you move past jungkook as he asks you the question. taking out your phone, you check for any missed messages. jungkook’s eyebrows furrow as you ignore him. he catches your waist and guides you against the kitchen counter. grabbing your phone from your hands, he puts it aside.

“woah,” he pouts. “what’s up? why are you acting like this?”

you look at jungkook and hate yourself. his eyes are so kind and full of love. 

you know it. 

you feel it. 

it hurts so bad.

“what’s with the mood?” he asks, more gently this time. 

jungkook moves his hands from your waist to wrap around you. he nuzzles himself into the crook of your neck and hugs you tightly. “if you’re mad at me about something, that’s okay... but be angry here. don’t ignore me. being angry together is better than not being together at all.”

his plea makes your eyes tear up.

this isn’t easy for you either, but to be honest... it’s now or never. tonight, your heart feels especially heavy. you can’t blame it. some people say time heals all wounds—perhaps, this is it. 

this is the time limit.

“can i tell you my news?” he asks, partly trying to stall the conversation and partly because it was good news. 

“sure.”

“i got a job offer,” jungkook says. “i’d have to do an informal interview but it’s basically mine if i want it. they’re setting up a branch in new york. they want me to go there for 3-6 months and help start everything up. guide and mentor the visual director there—”

“that’s amazing—”

“i don’t want it,” jungkook chuckles. “they told me to sleep on it and make my decision in a month. until then, they offered me a raise! isn’t that great?”

your smile drops. 

all of the feelings you’ve been trying to regulate since you stepped out of your therapist's office today feel like they’ve gone out the window. was he serious? he declined such a big step in his career—for a raise? 

“jungkook,” you croak. “do you know why we broke up?”

he pulls away. 

what a fucking switch up. he doesn’t understand. 

for a moment, he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. does he reach out to hold yours or keep them by his side? he’s caught off guard. he doesn’t know how to answer you and frankly, he fucking hates this question.

“uh, why are you asking me—”

“what was the other thing?” you ask, already suspecting it. “are you going to ask me to marry you tonight?” you blurt. 

he shoves his hand in his pocket. 

“jungkook, are you asking me to marry you tonight? yes or no?”

he blinks at you. 

his heart is prepared more than ever; “yes.”

“don’t.”

jungkook’s heart drops.

“don’t because you’re saying no or don’t because you want a better proposal?” he attempts to lighten the mood with a smile. he takes his hands out of his pocket and reaches for yours. you don’t let him take it. instead, you shake your head.

“don’t because you don’t even know why we’re broken up.”

instantly, the tension between you two increases. it’s through the roof, actually. it feels like one wrong word, one wrong move, one wrong recalled memory—everything crumbles.

everything fails.

everything faces the end.

“___, i can’t answer your question because i’m not prepared to. honestly, i wasn’t prepared for the break-up. it just happened. it grew into one. ___, you never said, ‘jungkook, it’s over. we’re broken up.’ ... no. you said, ‘jungkook... i can’t breathe anymore. i need air. i need space from us,’ — that’s what you said. but to hell with that, right? we’ve been sleeping together and it’s not like we hate each other. you love me. i know you do... so i really don’t understand why you won’t marry me despite knowing the simple truth—”

you move away from him.

god, it’s so hard to be next to him sometimes. 

heading to the cabinets, you take out a glass and pour yourself some water. drinking it, you hear jungkook sigh and groan in frustration.

“are we really going to fight tonight?” he asks, annoyed.

you shrug and put your water down. “shouldn’t we? it’s kind of overdue.”

jungkook scratches the back of his head. his lips tighten and his mind is already dizzy as he asks;

“___, why did you break up with me?”

a beat.

“i wanted more from you.”

he looks at you confused. “the fuck does that mean? sex?”

you shake your head.

“jungkook, i was moving up with my career. you were constantly annoyed that i was overworking myself and that i only cared about zion. you were always mad at me when i brought up work—especially about yours. you didn’t want more. you refused the promotions and all the different leadership roles. you refused more hours—you refused to grow… just like now.”

jungkook huffs. “is this about money again? we’ve never had issues providing for zion and this lifestyle.”

“again?” you chuckle. “honey, it wasn’t about the money. at least to me, it wasn’t. i love you and would have married you regardless of my career path and yours—”

“then why won’t you marry me? you always say you will but you say shit like this. you know it fucks me up, right? this isn’t fair. you can’t keep changing your mind.”

“it’s not that i don’t know what you are to me and what i want,” you take a deep breath. it feels painful to be right. “it’s that marrying you isn’t going to make any of this easier. at least, not right now.”

his eyes are filled with hope. 

hope that maybe the reason is childish and not what he knows it really is. he hopes it’s because he left one too many socks inches away from the laundry hamper in your bedroom. he hopes it’s because you got tired of him always queuing his karaoke songs in the car before yours. he hopes it’s because (not really) you actually took an interest in nam joon or something.

most of all, he hopes it’s not what he knows it is.

“jungkook, we were disagreeing on everything. you thought i was greedy for wanting more for myself—for our family—”

“so it’s about whether or not i accept the job offer? i still have a month to think about it. i can’t just leave you and zion. you get that, right? i don’t just leave.” jungkook scoffs in disbelief. “and you act like i didn’t just get promoted. i accepted it, didn’t i? i did so to impress you because i love you. i did it to win you back because i love you.”

“but why didn’t you do it for yourself?” you fuse. “why can’t you want more for yourself?”

“___, i love you—”

you hiss, taking a step away from him. “stop saying you love me when you—”

“when i what?” jungkook steadies his tone. “when i made a decision that you didn’t like? ___, i made a practical choice back then. what other option did i have?”

“you chose wrong,” you cry. “is that what you’ve been waiting for me to say? jungkook, you chose wrong because you were afraid! it wasn’t practical. it was safe. you took the settlement, forgave those friends, and looked stupid while doing it. meanwhile, i risked everything. i fucking fought for you! for what? jungkook, it ruined us.”

jungkook shifts, taking a step closer to you. he runs his hands through his hair and groans.

“___, they have a family too. they fucked up and they apologized. i didn’t go through with the lawsuit because regardless if they deserved it—their families didn’t. their children didn’t. for fucks sake, one of them has a daughter zion’s age—”

a sob escapes your lips. 

jungkook’s shoulders slump as he lowers his head. you lower yours too, feeling your tears roll down your cheeks.

“jungkook, i love you,” you weakly admit. “i swear to god, i have never loved anyone more in my life than i have ever loved you. you’re the kindest man i’ve ever met. you empathize with others and put them before your needs. you chased me around like a fucking dog for the last 9 months, completely disregarding any self-respect. truth be told, you gave me a purpose to live. you made me zion’s mom and the love of your life. in so many ways, i don’t deserve you… but i also don’t deserve this. it feels like even when i can't trust you—i still do. it ruins me, jungkook.”

angry, jungkook disagrees.

“what are you fucking talking about—no. don’t say shit like that.”

“you kept me together for so long that i don’t know how to fall apart if you’re not around. jungkook, i had to fall apart. i was so tired then. i was so unhappy and everything you did to hold me together only angered me. it lit this fire inside of me and i felt like i couldn’t touch anything or anyone… why couldn’t you just be sad with me?”

“you fell apart before i could even process what happened—” he recalls, tears threatening his eyes. “___, i was devastated beyond belief. i was sad too. i was afraid too. you don’t think i wanted to cry in bed all day with you? i had to get up. i had to take care of zion and i’m sorry if i held onto you tighter than i should have—but i had to. there was no other way i could’ve lived if i didn’t hold on to you like that. you’re my air. i love you, ___ and in case you didn’t know; it hurt me too. losing our—h-holy fuck. i love you. ___, i love you. please, i love you so much—”

you sob.

you don’t even try to hold yourself together. a heavy cry escapes your lips and jungkook instantly lifts his head and comes to you. he wraps you in his arms as you cry into them.

“i love you,” you whimper. “i don’t blame you for it—really, i don’t. b-but why did you stay? i worked so hard and you chose to stay. i stressed myself out and couldn’t sleep. i felt so betrayed and i wasn’t eating—”

“i know, i know,” he murmurs, holding back his sobs. “i hate myself for it. it was my fault—”

“don’t—”

you pull away and hit his chest. 

your eyes sting from all the crying and your throat feels dry. yet, every fiber inside of you feels like it’s on fire. it feels like you’re burning down the room and all jungkook wants to do is slow dance in it.

“jungkook, when you settled, it took something from us. something beautiful—our second—our time.” you slow your breathing to gather the courage to say it. 

to say everything. 

to say it all and maybe, save it all.

“honey, i d-destroyed and hurt more than you did... and i know you don’t blame me; but am i ever going to stop blaming m-myself?” you sob. “i’m pushed into t-this... corner where it’s all my fault—and it is, you know? if i hadn’t stressed myself over your case and just f-focused on making partner at the firm—if i had just i-ignored the f-feeling of the knife you twisted—it was supposed to be this time around.”

jungkook’s heart breaks.

“9 months...” you say, voice trembling.

“don’t say it like that,” jungkook begs. “my love, i didn’t forget.”

that’s just it.

he hasn’t forgotten either.

yet, his body doesn’t ache like yours does. as much as your heart wants to forgive and find beauty in this tragedy—your body hasn’t healed. all those months ago, when you focused on jungkook’s case and stressed yourself to the bone—you made a mistake. you neglected your health to prioritize everything but yourself.

your breath hitches as you recall everything. a part of you feels relieved to have said it all aloud, but inside, it feels like something has burnt up—like a part of you has died.

you reach for him, cupping his cheeks in your hands. jungkook’s tears spill over, and you gently wipe them away with your thumb.

his body collapses into yours. his sobs wrack his chest as he buries his face in your arms.

jungkook cries for the break-up.

for the hurt that’s grown between you two.

he blames himself even though deep down he knows it’s not his fault.

the ache in his chest feels unbearable. you tighten your hold on him, bracing yourself for what comes next, but before you can speak, your body gives in.

everything does dizzy and you hold your breath.

suddenly, your knees hit the floor, and you collapse in front of jungkook, the weight of it all too much to bear.

“i’m s-sorry,” you choke out. "i can't—fuck. i'm so heartbroken, jungkook. i can't—"

jungkook drops down beside you, pulling you into him. as you cling to each other, you feel his heart racing, his breath catching in his sobs, mirroring your own. he holds you tighter, as if he could take all your pain into himself. if he could, you know he would.

and somehow, in the midst of this overwhelming pain, you feel the strangest thing.

this has to be the most painful moment in your entire relationship, but it’s also the most healing.

after nine months of distance, you finally grieve together.

the grief overwhelms you two.

after what feels like an eternity, you manage to compose yourself, pulling away from his embrace. meanwhile, jungkook is still crying heavily. you reach up, cupping his face in your hands again, wiping the tears from his swollen eyes. he leans into your touch, his lips pressing softly against the palm of your hand, his breathing slowly calming down. but then, he moves closer, and you know what’s coming next.

jungkook tries to kiss you.

you push him away gently, your heart breaking all over again.

“... i think you should go home,” you whisper, your voice tired and cracked.

"___, please—"

"we fought enough tonight. i don't have anything left in me, jungkook... just go."

for a moment, silence hangs in the air, thick with everything left unsaid. there's still more. he swears it. he knows it because his heart races with so many more confessions. so many more things he has to tell you.

like the fact that when you cleared his name, he never felt so loved in his life.

like the fact that when you stressed yourself over him and got upset with his decision—he wanted to take everything back.

like the fact that when he let you cry in bed all day over the loss, he cried as he held and fed zion in the living room.

but now is not the time.

now, the hurt aches and he has to let it. he has to let you fall apart. he has to feel this too because if he doesn't—then he misses it all. he misses everything and he can't do that.

he needs to know.

he needs to learn.

he needs to love.

jungkook swallows hard, his voice barely a whisper. “okay… whatever you want.”

you both stand, your movements slow and heavy. you watch as he gathers his belongings, guilt and disappointment twisting in your stomach. at the door, he pauses, eyes closed as he takes a deep breath.

“what about me?”

his voice breaks the stillness. you feel your heart sink.

“what about you?” you ask softly, though you already know the answer.

“___, i don’t want to go,” he pleads, desperation creeping into his voice. “i… i can’t do this. not again.”

“what do you mean?” you force a weak smile. “this is our first break-up.”

“for real?”

you let out a sad laugh, though it holds no real humor.

“for now.”

jungkook takes a second to compose himself.

“i’m gonna pick up zion and have him sleep over at mine... and it’s okay if you’re still full… just eat a late dinner,” he murmurs softly, eyes cast downward. then, turning toward the door, he looks back one last time, his voice soft but filled with emotion.

“for the record, i thought i was home… but if air, space, and time is what you need, so be it. just know, i hope i’m it in the end. i hope i’m what you need.”

they say the 3-year itch is when the sand timer runs out. it takes two people to flip it over and restart the clock. at your 3-year itch with jungkook, suddenly your careers were where you two scratched.

then, the plagiarism accusations came along. as horrible as it was, you thought this was the perfect opportunity to show jungkook how much you love him. how much were you willing to do for him, and how much could your career benefit you two? at the peak of all this, you didn’t know it.

you were carrying more than just work.

at 5 weeks, 1 week after jungkook settled—time was up.

jungkook sits in his car, crying and staring at the ring that should be on your finger. he can’t help but feel all the sides of it. he shoves it back inside the box and opens the glove compartment. throwing it in, he continues to reflect. 

was he insensitive? was he so wrong about not wanting to take the job? the proposal was ill-timed, but was he crazy? weren’t you two doing better? … were you hurting all by yourself this entire time? of course, he hurt too. he was just grieving differently… does that make this his fault? he doesn’t know. he doesn’t care. in the end, losing something is still losing something. 

truth be told, it’s no one’s fault. 

yet, jungkook hits his steering wheel and continues to sob. he wants to blame something. he needs to. as he searches, his heart screams out;

time.

[cameronsbabydoll]

TIMELINE OF SUGAR-COATED CHAINS

year 0:

reader is around 19–21, rafe is in his early 30s.

they met at the country club, he sorta becomes her sugar daddy.

rafe is controlling, possessive, and clearly sees her more as someone to mold than partner with.

reader is naive, sweet, a bit sheltered — swept up in his world.

year 1–2:

marriage. rafe pushes for it sooner rather than later. l

she becomes financially dependent on him. he’s the provider; she has limited access to resources outside of what he gives her.

year 3–4:

first child (eldest son) is born.

rafe tightens his grip at home — she’s now a mother, and he sees her role more as a homemaker.

reader starts to feel isolated, but puts her energy into motherhood.

year 6–7:

second child (daughter) is born.

reader starts showing signs of fatigue and loneliness. the emotional weight begins to show.

year 10–11:

third child (youngest son) is born.

reader falls into postpartum depression — the darkest point in their marriage.

rafe doesn’t understand at first but steps in eventually to help her, mostly through control but also by showing up more.

year 12–15:

the older kids start developing their personalities, and the eldest son becomes more aware of the imbalance between his parents.

the daughter forms a close bond with reader. the youngest son becomes deeply attached to her too.

year 16-17

the eldest son calls rafe out (”you don’t deserve her”), and their relationship becomes strained.

reader becomes the emotional center of the house — she’s who the kids turn to.

rafe is slowly forced to confront how his actions have shaped the household.

year 18+:

youngest son graduates. rafe retires.

be and reader start to rebuild — he’s softer now, more present, and begins showing regret.

the kids are wary, especially the eldest son, but over time there are small reconciliations.

rafe travels with reader, takes her to places she always wanted to go, and spends quiet mornings at home — not out of guilt, but because he finally understands what he almost lost.

[22ayla21]

I love your scenerios so much!!

If it's not too much, could I ask for how the amphoreus men would help their spouse through postpartum depression? It's okay if it's too uncomfortable though

Postpartum Depression Support

How Amphoreus men would help their wife with postpartum depression

From the Author: I could write a dissertation on the topic of how such vulnerable moments in a woman's life are natural and that men need to respond adequately, but also help their partners when they need support.

He would try to be there as often as possible, even if he had important things to do. If necessary, he would put aside his responsibilities, because his family comes first for him. He doesn’t pressure her with questions, but is always there if she wants to talk. Mydei knows how to listen, even if he doesn’t immediately understand all the emotions she’s going through.

He would help her with the baby, take the baby with him at night to give her a chance to sleep, or just bring him so she doesn’t have to get up unnecessarily. Understanding that she also needs time for herself, he would take the baby for a walk or do something with the kids so she could rest or just be alone.

He wouldn’t say “it’s just hormones” or “you can handle it,” but instead would sincerely tell her how much he appreciates her and everything she does. Hugs, kisses on the forehead, touches on the hands - he shows his love even without words, knowing that sometimes this is enough to make her feel safe.

He could organize a relaxing evening for her, a bath in warm water or her favorite tea, just to make her feel cared for. He would not pressure her, but would remind her that she is strong and loved. He believes in her, and this is the best support he can give.

If he noticed that she needed support from other close people, he would unobtrusively arrange a meeting with those who could support her. Mydei would not judge her for tears, irritability or fatigue, but would simply be there to experience it together.

Anaxa would never rush his wife to "get back to normal." He understands that this is a difficult period, and instead of saying things like "pull yourself together," he simply stays close, allowing her to experience her emotions. If he sees that his wife is exhausted, he silently picks up the baby, rocks him, changes his diapers, and even reads him scientific treatises - because who said that babies can't listen to something intellectual?

He makes sure that she eats on time, rests, and does not overexert herself. If she refuses to eat, he will find a way to convince her to eat, even if he has to resort to a soft but firm tone. He will not constantly ask "Are you okay?", but his presence will be felt. Even if he is working in his office, he is always ready to interrupt his work if he feels that she needs him.

If his wife feels like a bad mother or is worried about being tired, Anaxa will gently but confidently remind her that motherhood is not a perfect picture, but a natural process with its own difficulties. If she wants to talk, he listens. Even if these are complaints, tears or tired words like "I don't have time for anything," he will not devalue her feelings.

He is not a joker, but if he understands that she needs a release, he can say something like: "Our son is growing by leaps and bounds. Perhaps by tomorrow morning he will write his first theory?" - with an absolutely serious expression on his face.

Anaxa knows that his wife likes their cat, so he often "puts" the fluffy pet on her lap, silently watching as she begins to stroke him and relaxes a little. Sometimes the most important thing is just to hug. Without words, without explanations, just a strong embrace in which you can feel that you are not alone.

He does not say that everything will get better right away. He's just making it clear, "You're not alone. We're in this together. And we'll get through this."

Phainon knows his wife too well not to notice that something is wrong. If she has become quieter, more thoughtful, distant, or seems tired even after resting, he knows that it is not just physical fatigue. He will not bombard her with questions like "What happened?", but his actions speak for themselves: he stays close more often, discreetly helps with the baby, and carefully monitors her condition.

He will not allow his wife to feel like she has to cope with everything alone. Taking care of the child? He is already holding the baby in his arms. Housework? Everything is done. She needs to rest and recuperate. He not only hugs her more often, but also makes sure that she feels physically calm. He makes sure that she has a comfortable pillow, a warm bath, and the opportunity to just sit in silence.

He never allows her to feel like only "mom" and remind himself of her former life. He may suggest going outside for some fresh air, taking a walk, reading, or simply having an evening without talking about the kids. If she suddenly starts talking about her worries, he listens without interrupting or trying to “solve the problem” right away. He just listens, letting her talk.

He will never say something like, “You should be happy” or “Other mothers can handle it.” Instead, he says, “You are not alone. This is normal. And we can handle it together.”

If she has trouble falling asleep or the baby wakes her up at night, he gets up himself to calm the baby down, and asks her to rest. He will not allow fatigue to worsen her condition. He will not allow her to think that she is a bad mother or that she is doing something wrong. If he hears such words, he immediately tells her gently but firmly that she is the best mother, and the baby adores her.

He can lift her spirits in subtle ways - with a gentle joke, an unexpected hug, or by arranging a cozy evening where she can simply forget about her worries. If he sees that her condition is prolonged and getting worse, he will not be stubborn and will think about inviting her relatives or specialists who can help. Because the most important thing for him is that his wife is happy.

[latenightdaydreams]

new mom reader whose just suffering from postpartum depression and rage and lashes out at konig when he come back from the longest deployment ..i need angst

Yes🩷 To all with postpartum I hope you know that you're doing amazing and that you're so so loved.

König x PPD!Reader (fem)

>cw:fem/afab, postpartum depression/rage, angst, sad thoughts

Master List ✍🏽

.

.

.

You sit on the couch with tear-stained eyes and a milk-stained shirt. It took three hours to get your two-month-old baby to settle down and take a nap. On the couch to your left is a pile of laundry needing to be folded, the energy to do so nowhere to be found.

For a moment, you lean back on the couch and gaze up at the white ceiling above you. Silent tears stream down the side of your face as you do your best to hold back your sobs. It feels as if for this moment, you cease to exist. There are only the sounds of a soft lullaby coming from the nursery and the fan. Time stands still and your broken heart only grows heavier. Motherhood wasn’t supposed to be this lonely.

As your body begins to disconnect from your thoughts, you can feel yourself slipping into a sleepy state of peace. It’s been days since you’ve gotten anything more than 2 hours straight. If you could just…sleep…maybe it would be better.

Just before your body can fully slip away into serenity, you’re pulled back to reality as the from door of your home slams open. At first your heart jumps, thinking that it’s a robber. Then König’s Austrian accent booms out throughout the home.

“Meine Liebling! I’m home!” König shouts as he loudly drops his heavy duffle bag onto the tile floor of the entrance. 

In an instant, you stand up and shush him. A look of furry fires up in your eyes. The joy of seeing him is quickly pushed out by the rage of him being so inconsiderate that he thinks he can disrupt your day. No heads up about his arrival, not even the courtesy to be quiet upon entering.

“Schatz, give me a kiss!” König still speaks loudly as he grabs your waist.

It’s been about two days since you’ve showered, feeling completely disgusting, you push him away. “Shut up!” You hiss at him.

“Excuse me?” He gazes down at you confused and slightly offended. His hand reaches back out and wraps around your waist, pulling you close once again. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Stop grabbing me.” You growl as you once more push away. “I haven’t showered and you could—”

Just then the baby starts to cry. A loud ear-piercing whine coming from down the hall making your heart drop and stomach turn. You look up at König wanting to smack that stupid smile off of his happy face. 

“You woke her up! I just got her to bed and you fucking come in here and ruin it all!” Your voice cracks with strong emotions as you scream.

König looks at you with his eyebrows furrowed, this isn’t the welcome home he was expecting. You’ve clearly changed from when he left you. Unable to control his own emotions having just come back from deployment, he snaps back.

“What the fuck is your problem?!”

“You! You’re selfish!” You turn and walk towards the nursery. 

“Nein.” König grabs your arm and spins you around. “You haven’t even said hello to me. Just yelling at me. Do you know how that makes me feel?”

“How you feel?” You laugh. “What about me? I’ve been here! Alone! No sleep, no help. Just me and a fucking baby that can’t understand me!”

“You think I had it easy while deployed? Fighting for your safety?” He shouts at you.

All you wanted in that moment was for him to be understanding and hold you gently. A truthful apology mixed with gentle head kisses. The truth is, you don’t know why you’re acting so terribly. You don’t want to. All you truly want is to hug him and kiss him, talk to him about how hard it’s been.

Tears begin to pool in your eyes as you look up at König. Only a few seconds later his face relaxes. The sound of the baby crying ringing out into the home, already getting him overstimulated. No wonder you’re so tired.

“Schatz, I’m sorry.” He reaches out to hug you, but you pull away.

“I have to get the baby.” You say coldly as you wipe tears away from your eyes and walk away from König.