#I still have a long way to go to feel comfortable with myself

[reiderwriter]

The Thrill of the Chase

Chapter Seven of I Can't Help Myself

Summary: Waking up in Spencer's arms suddenly feels wrong, but you have to convince him everything is fine before your big secret is revealed.

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, morning sickness, and triggers for emetophobia.

A/N: Welcome to Chapter Seven!! It's been a bit of a hectic week for me, so this is a bit of a shorter chapter, but I hope you guys are enjoying the story so far! It's crazy to think there are only three chapters left now!

Masterlist || (tag list is currently being repaired, thanks tumblr)

When you woke up, you immediately wish you hadn't. 

The comfortable position immediately became a crick in your neck. The warm fuzz of sleep became sharpened memories of the night before. Your bed became Spencer Reid, though of course it did. 

If you were stiff, you were so sure he was. 

While you'd been wedged between his head and his shoulders, fitting nearly perfectly into his shoulder, he'd been forced up against the sofa, head pushed down at an awkward angle as he tried, and failed, to get comfortable.  

You blinked your eyes open and immediately closed them again as you cursed inwardly.  

 You wondered how you were going to extricate yourself from the solid grip he still had on your hips, but you weren't wondering for long.  

Not when the second time opening your eyes had your stomach somersaulting in your belly, a pair of legs or a head or something pushed right up against everything you'd eaten in the last 24 hours. 

You shot up, not caring if you woke him but absolutely caring that you didn't throw up all over him.  

He joked awake and only  really gained full consciousness when you bolted the bathroom door shut behind you.  

He tried his best to shake off that sleepy feeling, the fatigue of sleeping somewhere unfamiliar. For a second, he felt a pang of sympathy for you, having spent a full week sleeping in unfamiliar territory.

Truthfully, he'd been able to sleep just fine on the couch. His back was stiff, but it was nothing like the ache of the solid prison beds. He wasn't alone at least. 15 years with the FBI, and Spencer had seen enough to never want to sleep soundly again, but you had put your head on his chest and he'd gone from horny to humming contented as he slipped into sleep. 

It was his own relaxed state that had his senses sharpening as he heard the tell-tale signs of your morning sickness. You wretched and heaved over the toilet, mostly expelling nothing except all your comfort and joy. 

Whoever said the female body was purpose built for baby making obviously had never been through it themselves, as it seemed your body was more than likely trying to destroy itself to create life. You weren't even sure what was even left in your stomach at this point.

Spencer knocked quietly at the door. 

“Y/N? Do you need something?” He called, resting his still weary head on the door. 

“No.” You called back, tone a lot sharper than you intended. 

“Come on, what's going on in there?” He asked, still calm and content. Your only reply was another dry heave and a shaky sob of pain. 

You heard his footsteps retreat from the door as your head collapsed against the porcelain, and you rode out your pain once again. 

When he returned, his voice was firmer. 

“Y/N, we have a doctors appointment in 45 minutes at a clinic across town. If you can, open the door.”

“No!” You cried, throat closing up in panic as you heard his words. You weren't sure whether to be pissed at his presumption, steam-rolling you into a doctor's visit even though you knew exactly what it was that was wrong with you, or happy that he even cared enough to ask. 

Either way, you hadn't the energy to lift yourself up and open the door for him. 

You laid back on his bathroom floor and closed your eyes, the cool floor wholly more comfortable than the toilet had been.

You didn't get to relish it for long, though, before he had beaten the door down. You barely registered the first shoulder push before the second one carefully carried Spencer into the room.

He took one look at you and lifted you into a sitting position, even as you groaned, your head now pounding.

“Spencer, leave me alone,” you moaned, even as you hugged closer to him. He pulled you up to a standing position but kept his hands locked around yours carefully and walked you out to the front door, effectively marching you to the door before you could even tell him there had been a misunderstanding. 

You came up with every excuse in the book to get out of the car, bit you didn't have the time to utter a single one before he was strapping you in gently, closing the door behind you, climbing in himself and starting the engine.

“This is a misunderstanding,” you said, as your morning sickness began to fade rapidly. Finally. 

“Oh, so you weren't throwing up?” 

“No, I was but-”

“But what?”

“I do it every day,” you said quietly, knowing it was only going to confuse him more. 

“Then we're absolutely going to see a doctor.” 

You said nothing for the rest of the ride there, staring instead out the window as you felt your world implode beside you. 

In the doctors waiting room, Spencer sorted your insurance and medical details, checking boxes and dealing with the desk staff as you sat silently in the corner. 

You knew you couldn't hold off telling him much longer. Your body had already begun changing, stomach expanding just enough to be noticeable now you were approaching five months. It's why you hadn't changed clothes around him, hoping that he'd just assumed the change of scenery and stress had led you to gain some weight.

Still, you didn't want your hand forced like this.

“Miss Y/N,” a nurse asked from the desk, and you instinctively replied “Doctor,” though that really wasn't relevant here of all places. 

You stood, and Spencer stood with you. 

“No,” you said immediately, as he began to march to the doctors office. 

“What?” He asked. 

“Spencer, you…you can't come in with me.” 

“Why not? You're sick, you're suffering, you probably aren't even aware of your symptoms, Y/N. I have to make sure the doctor knows everything so he can accurately diagnose you.”

“Spencer,” you said, closing your eyes as your tone grew angry, attempting to calm yourself down. 

“You are not my father, legal guardian, and you're certainly not my husband. You are a colleague I have been forced to share an apartment with because there is some maniac possibly stalking me, though I haven't heard anything about that in a full week. So,” you said, dropping your voice to a whisper and stepping closer. “Back the fuck off and stop acting like I'm some pet project you have to take care of. I'm not a victim, I can talk to a doctor alone.”

You turned and left him in the waiting room, and went to apologise to the doctor for wasting his time. 

Luckily, the doctor was more than understanding of the situation. Even after you subtly undermined her professionalism by asking she really stick to her HIPAA oaths or whatever and not let on any information to Spencer at all. 

You knew you had to tell him. You were beginning to sound like a broken record in your own head, and you knew it. But you were sure as hell telling him on your own terms. 

“Could I possibly make a quick phone call while we're here?” You asked as the doctor performed a quick check up on your baby. You got the go-ahead and dialled Emily's number immediately. 

“Y/N, hello. What is it, is something wrong?” she asked as she picked up. 

“No, I'm… Emily. I'm going to be honest with you now, and I need your full cooperation. You can't speak a word of this to anyone, especially Spencer.” 

A moment of hesitation on the other line, and then she agreed. 

“I'm pregnant,” you said. “Spencer is the father.”

“I know,” Emily admitted, sighing slightly. 

“Penelope?” You asked, hoping that you didn't have to make another call after this.

“Penelope knows? Irrelevant, sorry. No, there was an ultrasound picture on your desk last week. And I'm good at my job.”

“Is Spencer good at his?” You asked, not sure you wanted a truthful answer. The only thing worse than Spencer finding out you were pregnant by himself was him finding out by himself and not telling you this entire time, his resentment building. 

“Yes. But he isn't good at anything when you're around.”

“He's good at pissing me off,” you scoffed, but it caught somewhere in your throat and turned into a sob. 

“I'm sorry, I just-” you started crying and your doctor offered you a tissue. 

“Y/N, what happened?” 

You explained the morning to Emily. Except that you didn't explain your predicament fully, so you explained your week, and then your month, and then eventually your entire acquaintance with Spencer Reid.

“So, yeah,” you ended, chest still shaking with quiet sobs. 

“What are you going to do?” she asked, and you replied as honestly as you could muster. 

“I don't know.” 

You wiped tears and continued before Emily could say anything else.

“But I need time to think about how to tell him again, and I need space. Can you call him into the office?” 

“He's at the doctor's office with you?” 

“He tried to come into the appointment with me. I yelled at him.”

“You do that often.”

“It's the only thing that works,” you sighed, and continued. “Please, Emily?” 

“I'll call him with an excuse. JJ’s close by, I'll have her come and pick you up while the doctor fills your prescription.”

You smiled and felt the pressure wash off your shoulders as you hung up. 

Then you stepped out of the doctors office and back into the waiting room and were almost knocked back on your ass when you spotted Spencer in the corner of the room. 

He was exactly where you'd left him, bit at some point the waiting room had been populated by young mothers, and Spencer was now animatedly locked in a conversation with a toddling small boy, playing with the toys as he passed the time. 

Your lip wobbled and you almost broke down before he looked up at you and you blinked back the tears. 

He gave you a confused smile, checking that you were okay before you nodded. 

You didn't move to join him, though, and like clockwork, his phone rang. He excused himself, pointing at his phone to let you know where he was going, and you finally breathed easily, knowing that Emily was sticking to her promise. 

[smnthchrstn]

see a list of prompts here. send a request here. see my previous work here, here, here & here. thank you! i don't currently take anons for my own safety and sanity, but if you have a private request feel free to message me and i can post it without using your url! notes: word count is 1,644. austin is your coworker, you're both working side by side on the bikeriders. he helps ground you after a ptsd episode. tw for mentions of sa/assault/past abuse. dedication: this one shot is dedicated to my gf @vintagecherri may we always be able to comfort each other in our darkest times. thank you for teaching and reminding me to always be gentle with myself, even when i feel i have failed the most. xoxo

safe here with me | austin butler x reader

"And cut!"

You sucked in a deep breath, your eyes fluttering closed and then open again as you tried to regain your composure. That scene had really gotten to you, and you'd nailed it on the first go. You almost had forgotten about the man sitting in the same room as you. His eyes grew from vacancy to attentive, searching your face for some sign that you were doing okay. Your breathing became a bit jagged as the director told everyone they'd done a fantastic job and that they'd be moving on for the day.

The man across from you was your co-star, Austin. And you two had been getting to know each other for quite some time, especially since arriving in Cincinnati to film a movie about a biker club from the 1960s. You played his wife, he played your husband - a wild, crazy, pained young man who got a thrill out of doing the most dangerous things and not caring what anyone thought about it. You'd learned, in time, that Austin was the complete opposite. Most of the time anyway. You'd developed a friendship, although sometimes it seemed like more. You knew he looked at everyone like that, like they were the world's greatest treasure in his eyes. He had a way of captivating people and making them feel as if they were the only other person on earth.

"Hey, Y/N," a low and gravel-y voice asked, and you'd realized he'd been saying it for a few moments at least. Your eyes had glazed over, your hands were shaking as you wrapped your arms around your frame. "Are you okay?" the blonde man before you asked, his eyes filled with worry as he saw the way you'd reacted since the day had been called. "I..yes," you finally mustered enough courage up to answer. "Yes. I'm fine." You took a very shaky breath, running both hands through your long hair. "Completely fine." Austin finally stood, holding his hand out to help you up, and you took the help. He led you back outside to his trailer, holding the door for you and you felt inclined to join him, to follow.

"Hey, you know," he tried to begin saying, a little unsure of his own words. "You know, I don't have to tell you that I wouldn't necessarily react the way my character would to anything said or done." And with that, he walked to his mini fridge and got you out a cold water before taking a seat. You nodded, still a little jumbled up with your words. "I know, it's acting," you responded knowingly. Austin nodded, reaching beside him to pull a cigarette from his pack, placing it between his lips and lighting it. He took a deep drag into his lungs, flicking the ashes away into one of his own homemade ashtrays. You still felt small. You always did when topics like that would come up.

"I know that scene was a little heavy," he said, the smoke billowing around him in a cloud. "Yeah, I mean, it's okay," you said easily enough, with a tiny shrug of your shoulders. "I'm more than capable of handling serious scenes." Sure, you hadn't had too much practice before this with acting, but you'd done well enough to nail the part and you'd been doing a fantastic job. "Oh no, no, Y/N. I wasn't trying to insinuate at all that you aren't meant to be here. You are, you are the best scene partner I could ask for. I've loved getting to know you and becoming your friend," Austin explained, pausing to take another puff of his cigarette. You weren't sure where he'd been trying to go with this conversation. "I couldn't help but notice the way you mentally checked out after that scene, and I wanted to make sure you were okay."

--------------------------------------------

"Don't you, get away from me!" You screamed at the top of your lungs. Your chest burned, your stomach throbbed, everything inside you felt torn apart and hurt, broken and unfixable. And even after you'd received medical attention it still hurt. For days, for weeks, months, even years. You had residual pain that wouldn't go away, you'd been to the hospital and you'd seen doctors, and you had the nightmares that would wake you up in tears some nights. The assault had made your life a living hell, one that you often hadn't wanted to wake up from. You'd thought of countless ways to end it, to stop the pain from continuing.

--------------------------------------------

Big hands moved over your shaky ones, holding them in place. "Hey." His cigarette had been put out since you'd involuntarily closed your eyes. Your breathing became uneven, you were having trouble catching your breath. "Hey, hey, hey," he said, softening his voice, calming blue eyes filled with worry. "S-sorry," you managed to stutter. If you could think straight you would've been so embarrassed. Having such a massive panic attack in front of your new friend and co-star, not to mention a guy that you were absolutely smitten with was mortifying for you. It had been years, you thought you'd been "over" this. Austin placed a hand on your cheek, moving his thumb over your jaw and checking you over. He reached down and over, taking your wrist gently between two fingers and counting in his head. He did that for a moment or two before shaking his head. "Come sit next to me," he said, holding his arm out for you to come closer. "Please." You shakily moved to sit beside him and didn't protest when he pulled you in against his chest, your ear pressed against his heartbeat. "You're safe," he assured you in a low tone. He hadn't the slightest idea of what you'd gone through, but he knew what a panic attack looked like and what trauma looked like - and he knew you'd experienced something horrendous in your past. Austin worked to keep his breathing and heart rate steady, wanting to help to ground you as much as he could. You could hear the gentle lub-dubs in his chest, the soft beating that kept him alive. and it did soothe you unlike anything else had before. You felt his hand on your back, rubbing in gentle circles, breathing loudly as to remind you that it was okay to breathe and that filling your lungs with air would be a good thing, maybe the best thing for you right now.

After some time, he took your pulse again wanting to make sure that your heart rate had come down some. "There we go, slowly making its way down," he murmured, keeping you close to him, still pressed against his chest. The sound of his heartbeat grounded you and you thought maybe you’d be able to talk a little about what had happened during that scene. “Reminded me of something that happened a few years back,” you began. “With my ex-boyfriend. Hadn’t been dating that long or anything and,” she said, shaking her head a little. “He, he told me he’d stop,” you whispered, giving him a heartbreaking look. “He promised he would stop before he even started but he didn’t,” you whispered, beginning to cry again. “He broke my trust. He didn’t stop and it happened. And, and,” you said, your lungs aching from the gasps you were making. “I, and I,” you tried to say, but you could feel your heart pounding in your chest and your head spinning. You could feel yourself back there again as your breathing became more and more labored. “Someone took advantage of you,” you finally heard the deep voice say. “Yes. Yeah, my ex-boyfriend hurt me. And that scene reminded me of that. I’m sorry, I’m a professional. I, I’m so embarrassed,” you whispered.

It didn’t surprise you when you felt his fingers against your wrist again, searching for the magic number of beats per minute, wanting to help bring you back down to earth if he could. “Hey, take a few deep breaths, okay? I’m so sorry that happened. I’m sorry that he took advantage of you, and I want you to know I will never hurt you like that.” The two of you hadn’t even spoken about a romantic relationship, aside from the flirtations that happened after filming and sometimes on set. Austin leaned back some against the couch in his trailer, bringing you with him cautiously. “There you go,” he whispered, moving one hand to your back and making sure you were pressed up against his chest again. You allowed yourself to focus. You could feel his breathing against you, the rise and fall of his abdomen and the soft puttering of his heartbeat. “There you go,” he said, combing his fingers through your long hair, attempting to soothe you. “There we go,” he said again, dancing his fingers over your back. “Deep breaths, after me.” And with his help, you were able to catch your breath. “You’re safe here with me, okay?” He pressed a kiss to your head, wanting to comfort you and relieved that your body seemed to be relaxing. “I’m sorry that triggered these feelings and memories for you. And when you’re ready, you tell me all about that, as much as you’d like to, okay? I’ll be here. I’ll listen and I’ll hold your hand to help it keep from shaking.” You took a deep breath and opened your eyes, your ear still filled with the sound of the man’s heartbeat. “You mean that really?” You asked, almost shocked that someone would take that kind of time to comfort and learn you. “Yeah. I really do.” You took another gentle breath and allowed your eyes to close, snuggling in comfortably against Austin. You’d never felt such comfort in your life, and looked forward to being in his.

[666writingcafe]

Checking In

Lucifer

Once my brothers are settled in for the evening, I quietly leave the House and begin walking back to the castle. I need to apologize to Diavolo for what happened a few hours ago, but more importantly, I need to see Zephyr. I haven't quite decided whether to yell at them or comfort them.

The exhausted look in their eyes as they answer the door to one of the spare bedrooms tells me that they're not in the mood for a lecture.

Normally, that doesn't stop me from giving one, but for some reason, I can't find it in me to berate Zephyr for their actions. Not even a little bit.

They walk over to the desk they have set up and start looking through various papers. I make my way over to the bed and sit on the side facing them.

"Shouldn't you be resting?" I ask.

"Can't," Zephyr answers, more focused on their work than on me.

"Can't, or won't?" They glare at me briefly. "Simply a question, Zephyr. Nothing more."

"I have to distract myself. If I don't keep myself busy, I'm going to kill Solomon."

"For calling you 'MC'?" That got their attention. They look like they're moments away from biting my head off.

"Listen, I understand why you're upset."

"Do you?" they bark angrily.

"You trusted him to keep your old identity a secret, yes?" Zephyr blinks awkwardly before closing their eyes and taking a deep breath.

"I'm sorry, Lucifer. I didn't mean to snap at you like that. It's just..." Another deep breath as their eyes begin watering.

"It's okay. Take your time."

"I'll be fine." Sighing, they leave their desk and sit beside me on the bed.

"Do you want to know why I answered Diavolo's ad in the paper?" they ask me. I shrug.

"I assumed it was for the money." Zephyr shakes their head.

"I had to make the transition alone. I didn't want you guys to have the same experience I did, because it was rough."

"You weren't always a demon?" Another sigh.

"I was born human, Lucifer."

Oh. That explains a few things.

"I come from a long line of powerful and notorious sorcerers," they continue. "Everyone in my family wants to cause as much chaos as possible simply because they find it hilarious to watch people suffer. I didn't participate in any of their illegal and shady activities, obviously, but I still had a target on my back. No matter where I went in the human world, people were on the hunt for me. I was more or less a fugitive, and all because I was related to a whole bunch of criminals.

"Then one day, I met a group of demons. They were part of an organization that granted humans asylum in the Devildom. I told them my story, and they not only encouraged me to seek it out, but they also made sure that my application was approved as quickly as possible. However, that meant shedding all my ties to the human world and becoming a full-fledged demon. Shortly after I arrived here, the organization was forced to dissolve, and any evidence of its existence disappeared without a trace."

I'm not surprised something like that happened. If Diavolo is telling me the truth about his father, then I have no doubt that he had a heavy hand in annihilating that organization.

"So where does Solomon come in all this?"

"He's worked with my family over the course of my childhood. I was told he was a friend, but I learned at a very young age to not trust anyone that they liked."

"And yet you have his mark on you."

"That's because when we reconnected several years later, I learned that he was trying to become a more reputable sorcerer. Of course, I didn't believe him at first, but then I started hearing good things about him from people I did trust. Eventually, I wanted to help him with his goal, and so I agreed to enter a pact with him."

"I see."

Well, no wonder Zephyr's able to remain calm around us. We probably seem like a fucking cake walk compared to what they've been through. And having to do it all by themselves on top of it?

I feel a strange mix of emotions: sadness, anger, and...

Pride.

Which makes very little sense. How can I be proud of someone that I barely know? They're just our attendant, after all.

Or are they?

Tears threaten to spill out of Zephyr's eyes again.

I shouldn't stay here. Maybe I can flag down one of Diavolo's servants and have them get tissues or something for them.

But I have to remain professional. Who knows what would happen if I give in?

My heart beats my brain. Soon, I'm holding Zephyr in my arms as they quietly cry into my chest.

Memories of me comforting my siblings like this begin playing in my head. Is Zephyr family? They've certainly integrated quite well into ours, but that's only so that they can better assist us, right?

And yet the way they're grabbing onto me...

Eventually, they pull back, and as I let go of them, our eyes meet. For one brief yet scary moment, they look exactly like Lilith.

I lean in and kiss their forehead, for old time's sake.

But then my brain takes over again, and I'm suddenly questioning everything I just did.

"Sorry," I mumble, scrambling to get out of that room before I do something stupid again. I shouldn't be feeling this way about them. Even if they weren't born a demon, that doesn't change the fact that they've been one for much longer than me and my brothers have. I still have to lead by example, and I can't do that if I'm too busy fawning over them.

Who cares what they think? You deserve to be happy.

I'm going to need some time alone to think.

~~~

A Few Days Later

A Text Conversation

Lucifer: Are you doing okay?

Zephyr (MC): That's funny. I was about to text you the very same question.

Lucifer: Of course you were.

Zephyr: To answer your question, I'm doing better. Might even head back to the cottage soon.

Lucifer: That's good.

Lucifer: Listen, I want to properly apologize to you for what happened.

Zephyr: Which part?

Lucifer: Me running away.

Zephyr: *wide-eyed emoji*

Lucifer: What did you expect me to say, that I regretted comforting you when you needed it?

Zephyr: Kind of, yeah.

Lucifer: I know it seemed that way at the time, but I can assure you, that wasn't it at all.

Lucifer: It's taken me a bit for me to admit this, but I was scared.

Zephyr: Of?

Lucifer: My feelings.

Lucifer: The positive ones, I mean.

Zephyr: *confused sticker*

Lucifer: If it's alright with you, I'd like to get to know you more.

Zephyr: In a friendly way?

Lucifer: Something like that.

Zephyr: Lucifer...

Lucifer: Yes?

Zephyr: Why the indirect answer?

Lucifer: I'm still getting used to the idea of seeing you as more than simply an attendant. Please be patient with me.

Zephyr: Of course.

Zephyr: Are you wanting to do something low key, or do I need to find a fancy outfit?

Lucifer: *confused sticker*

Zephyr: Just trying to gauge where you're at, whether you're simply wanting to become friends or wishing for something more than that.

Lucifer: *several wide-eyed emojis*

Zephyr: Alright then. Low key it is. How about a nice stroll through one of the parks? Wear whatever makes you feel comfortable. No pressure to do anything beyond walking and talking, and you can leave whenever for whatever reason, even if it's because you're simply sick of hearing the sound of my voice droning on and on.

Lucifer: *a few laughing emojis*

Lucifer: Sounds good. Just let me know when and where.

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr, @tenkobitch

[arachnixe]

A Better Family

(Part 2 of Night’s Longing - Previous: Den of Depravity)

A man kneels on a stone floor, coughing blood. His face is a battleground of despair versus anger, and he clenches his fists in a futile gesture of resistance.

“If it helps, I’m sorry in my own way. I’d hoped to let you live, but I cannot do that if you will not play your role in this story.” A figure, cloaked in darkness, circles the dying man like a vulture.

“Damn you, Alucard. I should have known it was you. I see now it was always you. The count—” Another coughing fit interrupts him. “I won’t let you get away with this.”

“You are not in much of a position at all to ‘let’ me do anything, Morris.”

“I can still… curse with the best of them. Enough blood here for it, at least.” The man puts a red, dripping hand to his forehead and breathes a prayer. “By the bloodline of the Boltman clan, I curse you. We will wipe your progeny from the world. When you die, it will be at our hands. On my life, I swear it. In the name of my family I do hereby vow. We will be your end, Dracula.“

In a flash of light, the man collapses. Somewhere far away, a child wakes up from a nightmare of his father dying, his face wet with tears.

---

I, on the other hand, wake up with a smile on my face. Get wrecked, old man. If I have to suffer your curse, at least I have the consolation prize of playing dream witness to your embarrassing last moments on your knees again and again. It’s a damn shame, I think, that one of my ancestors apparently was successful at killing Dracula at some point. Wasn’t enough to end the curse on my family, though. I guess we are supposed to kill every last vampire to fulfill the prophecy.

That won’t happen if I have any say in it. I am determined to be the last of my line.

“Wait, she’s awake again already?”

“What did I tell you? This girl is the best.”

I open my eyes, blinking through the haze and trying to reorient myself. It’s still night, and I’m lying across the laps of two beautiful women in a dimly lit booth. I only recognize one of them. “Hey, Vicky. Who’s your friend?”

“Not totally with it yet,” the stranger observes.

“Come on. You met Liz already, remember? My sister.”

“Right, the hot sister.” That rings a bell. I sit upright with Vicky’s aid and position myself comfortably between the two vampires. I’m still feeling a bit dizzy, and my limp neck struggles to prevent my head from lolling to the side. “Gonna have to get some calories and iron in me if you want to go again before morning.”

“Already got a big steak coming your way, Hanna. Extra rare, just how you like it.”

I can’t believe there’s a nightclub in this city that serves steak of all things. This place rules.

“Ooh, she does have good taste. Twice over, even.” Liz rewards my quality opinions with a kiss on the lips and a lustful squeeze of my boob. While she continues occupying my mouth, Vicky runs her hand up my thigh and takes a long, lingering lick from my collarbone to my jaw. The way they treat me like a premium cut of meat makes me shiver in anticipation of what’s to come later tonight.

I’m too distracted to notice when my own meal arrives until the smell reminds my stomach that I’m starving.

“Oops, looks like they thought that was for one of us,” Liz says.

No sides on the plate, just a fat fucking slab of barely seared beef swimming in blood—is that human blood?—in a presentation clearly intended for vampire clientele rather than a living human. This place must be damn fancy by vampire standards. Or maybe it’s just that full moon excess at work.

I’m drooling, too hungry to fret about the details. If Liz thinks a little blood is going to put me off my appetite, I’m happy to prove her wrong. I demolish the whole thing in record time, ripping chunks of flesh apart with my teeth and happily sipping the mixture of blood and beef juices until I clean the plate and give Liz a little wink in response to her shocked expression.

“And here I thought a place like this would have an aversion to stakes.“

Vicky laughs uproariously. It’s a universal truth that no vampire can resist puns about themselves.

“I’ve never been so turned on in my life,” Liz says. “You’re telling me she’s really a—“

Vicky hisses an interruption. “Not here. Don’t yell at me about taking a stupid risk and then turn around and talk about it in public!”

I’ve inferred that if a certain someone in a position of authority were to learn about me being a vampire hunter in their midst, I’d be in real danger. I’m durable, but I’m not invincible, and besides, the last thing I want to do is to have to kill a bunch of vampires who think they’re just protecting themselves.

There must be a way to earn some measure of trust from the clan, show them that I’m not a danger, that I’m not like my hateful family.

“What if I found a way to prove myself?” I ask. “Make some big show of loyalty that can’t be ignored. It’s all well and good for me to repeatedly give myself to a couple of the hottest women I’ve ever met, but I don’t think anyone’s gonna believe that’s an act of altruism, per se.“

Vicky nods, stroking my cheek with affection. “You’re a freak for sure, but that’s not quite enough on its own.”

“You could wipe out one of, uh… your kind’s cells,” Liz suggests. “One that’s been directly a problem for us. That would go a long way.”

My heart skips a beat at the suggestion. Wipe out. She means doing some straight-up murder. There’d be no coming back from that, but that’s the point, isn’t it? That’s what makes it a perfect test of loyalty. If I really want to make a difference, do some real good for the world, and spit on my family’s name in the process, here’s the perfect mission.

I lean back in the booth, turning my body to the side to face her directly. “Do you know of any specific one that would fit the bill?”

“It’s my job to know these things, my dear. Though I want to enjoy your company in full before I send you out on an obvious suicide mission. The cell I’m thinking of is run by a Boltman, which is a name that should strike fear into even your heart.” She squeezes my knee. “Of course, I wouldn’t blame you for changing your mind after hearing that.”

Vicky didn’t tell her, then. Or maybe she didn’t recognize the specific family affiliation identified by my tattoo. Not sure how to bring that up myself, so maybe I won’t just yet. Still, the name doesn’t change anything, really. It only helps me solidify my own feelings. I feel my face settling into an serious expression just shy of a scowl. “Quite the opposite.” My hand clenches into a fist. “I’m eager to take that family down most of all.”

---

There’s a difference between knowing of a hunter cell and knowing where to find it, of course, but I do have some advantages the vampires lack. I’m trained in several different hunter codes, naturally including the Boltman family’s.

Graffiti marks the location of safehouses, with special markings and modifications signaling how recently it was still believed to be uncompromised and whether other hunters are welcome. Some markings warn of nearby vampire dens with an estimated population count and risk level. Others hint at stashes nearby.

I meander the streets until I spot the first such sign: a stash. A false brick in an alleyway conceals some frozen sunlight and a silver chain. Smash one, pocket the other to pawn later, then keep looking. Where there’s one sign, more will be around the area.

The first safehouse I spot is unoccupied. Not too much of a surprise there; we keep plenty of redundant ones in case someone gets followed. Lucky break, though, someone has used it recently, and decoding the log book gives me clues about where to check next.

It takes only a few days to close in on the cell’s current location, and then no time at all to convince the guard to let me in. I know all the right words, and I flash them the tattoo that marks me as one of theirs. They have no reason to doubt me.

“Hey, Carlo!” The woman who lets me in shouts louder than I think reasonable. “This a cousin of yours or something?”

A shirtless man taking swings at the punching bag in another room stops what he’s doing, wipes the sweat off his face with a nearby towel, and approaches the two of us. He looks me up and down for a moment before responding.

“Not one I’ve met before.” He extends a hand. “Carlo Boltman.”

“Hanna.” I shake his hand. “Boltman too, that is.” I lift my shirt to show him my tattoo, a perfect match for his. I’m also dressed for the occasion in my hunter’s garb: strategically armored, belt full of essentials, and with knives and stakes strapped to me in easy to reach places. The leather gorget at my neck bears the seal of Clan Boltman, one repeated on my bracers and embossed on the back of my silver pendant.

“Hanna? Just like…?” Carlo turns and shouts toward another room. “Hey, Uncle Dan, come out here.”

Does everybody here feel the need to shout instead of walking over to—

“Well, well, well, the prodigal daughter returns to the fold. And here I thought you were content to steal from me and fuck off to a life of leisure.”

“Daniel. How good to see you well.” I keep my voice measured and composed, if icy, while addressing my father. I will not show him weakness. “I was unaware you considered it stealing to take the weapons and armor that were crafted for my measurements and with which I had grown accustomed during my training. I mistakenly assumed my father would bless his daughter with the tools she needs to strike out on her own and practice the family trade.”

He laughs. “Well, if you really have taken up the family trade in this godforsaken city, I may be willing to look past your transgressions. Tell me, how many vampires have you successfully hunted so far?”

“Five,” I reply without hesitation. “Two at once just a few days ago, in fact.” The smile of satisfaction I give him is even honest.

“Hmm.” He grunts. “Inadequate, but I do believe that’s within your capabilities. Be glad you didn’t try to lie to me.”

I almost pity Carlo, eyes darting back and forth at the two of us in our chilly confrontation. While it’s clear my father must have mentioned me before, it seems he wasn’t prepared for the truth of our strained relationship.

“I thought Carlo here would be the leader of this outfit, but I know you better than to assume you’d allow anyone else to call the shots when you’re around. So why don’t you tell me what you’re planning so that I can lend you my aid and we can part ways again?”

Daniel smirks. “No, this is my dear nephew’s mission. While I have graciously volunteered some input, I would never undermine the judgment of a fully trained and independent vampire hunter of our clan.”

We glare at each other for several silent seconds before I turn my gaze to my cousin. With a rueful grin, I say to Carlo, “I’m sorry about all this. You don’t deserve to be caught up in this kind of bickering. Would you brief me on what your group has planned?”

Carlo looks back toward my father, who gives a stern nod. “Well, first you need to know that we caught word Clan Sarthe is planning something big. ‘Resurrection of Dracula’ big, in fact.”

“You can’t ‘resurrect’ a vampire.”

My father snorts his disapproval with me. “Dracula is no run-of-the-mill vampire, girl. He’s the damn source of it all! And if you don’t want your job to get a whole lot harder, you won’t rest on your laurels hoping whatever ritual those bloodsuckers are planing is a dud.”

“Right,” Carlo continues. “We don’t want to take any chances. Which is why I called in a real veteran,” he gestures at Daniel, “and why we’re gearing up to hit the main hive.”

Leading me across the room, he unfurls an old-fashioned paper map of the city. That’s certainly my father’s influence; he is convinced all the tech companies are in the pocket of Big Vampire. I recognize a good number of the circled points on the map: several major dens I’m familiar with, including the Carmine. The circle he jabs at, however, is new to me.

“Warehouse district?”

“Right. The entrance is an unmarked building. We believe it leads to a network of tunnels that sprawls… well, we don’t know how far they go, but we’re pretty sure we can expose a lot of vamps to some surprise daylight with strategically placed explosives in the area.”

The plan is vile. The more he describes it, the gladder I become that I’m here to put a stop to this before they hurt any more innocents. I’m not even sure it would work, but a lot of vampires would die either way.

I nod thoughtfully and play my role, offering suggestions as though I intend to let them attempt this cruel scheme. I introduce myself to the other members of the cell, mostly ordinary people rather than true hunters. I don’t bother learning their names. The more time I spend around people like this, the more my own humanity disgusts me, the more apart I feel from all of them.

These people are not my real family. I know where I belong.

At night, most everyone falls asleep. The one exception, aside from me, is the guy keeping watch, just starting his night shift. The man doesn’t watch his back at all, and I quietly slip behind him and slit his throat.

It’s a nice safehouse, with enough rooms for everyone to have their own place to sleep even with six of us here. Better still, the walls are thick enough to muffle any brief struggle someone might offer, but I won’t need to rely on that as long as I hit them quickly and effectively. Fortunately, I am well trained in where and how to stab someone to prevent them from raising an alert.

Inside the first bedroom is the sweet girl who let me in. She sleeps on her back. I crush her windpipe, and in the same fluid motion I stab her through the heart. Her blood soaks the sheets without so much as a squeak of distress.

The second bedroom is where things go wrong. Carlo is awake, with someone going down on him. He’s too distracted to notice my entrance right away, but I don’t get far before he starts to yell.

My knife sails in a graceful arc from my hand into his eye socket. I dive forward, drawing another to stab through the sheets into the back of the nobody fellating my cousin. Carlo scrambles, losing blood, clearly in a panic, and I drive my second knife up through his diaphragm. Soon he too collapses.

That shout. There’s no way it didn’t wake Daniel up. After weighing my options, I choose to dash from the room yelling, “we’ve got company!”

Perhaps my father really is a sentimental old fool to the end. He bursts from his own room, armed with the famous family blade, and as I watch him scan the hallways holding that sword of his aloft, he shows no suspicion whatsoever toward me.

“How many, Hanna?”

“Two, I think. No idea how they got in.”

He swears under his breath, moving past me to peek into Carlo’s room, trusting me to watch his back. “Shit, Hanna. At least I’ve got you here. I never told you this, but—“

It’s all the opportunity I need to drive my dagger into his neck. I lever it back and forth to really shred his carotid artery and send his blood spraying like a fountain. Fuck that feels good. Oh, that really feels good.

On an impulse, I lean forward and catch the spray of blood in my mouth. It’s not like I draw strength from it like a proper vampire, but I’ve learned to love that salty, metallic flavor in my own way, and today it tastes like my freedom from this damn family of mine.

“Fuck you, dad.” I smear crimson victory across my face and laugh with sheer, manic joy. “I’d tell you to go to hell, but you always said that’s where all vampires go when they die for good.” I slice deeper, all but severing his head, then follow up by stabbing him again and again in each vital organ. Can never be too sure with a vampire hunter. “I’m sure, whenever I end up dying, that’s where I’m going too. And I’d rather not have you around while I’m spending my afterlife with everyone I ever loved.” I spit on his body. “If hell is my fate, then you can go to heaven or go to oblivion, but wherever the fuck you end up, go there without me.”

I grab my phone and text my family to let them know that there are some rapidly cooling bodies for them to enjoy if they’re feeling peckish. Also, I’ll appreciate their help taking some photos and videos to document my beautiful sins.

[rozugold]

Goshh I finally sat down and took the time to get my skin tone accurate for this art of my mc sona and it’s got me feeling all emotional skdhdjk

[jabeur]

okay like the thing is that suicide jokes and such are probably not that bad or that big of a deal if you're not really suicidal but if you're For Real suicidal or have been before and are not doing well mentally and you keep making them and start finding comfort in the thought you could kill yourself if you wanted to. be careful

[britneyshakespeare]

i finished the merry wives of windsor today btw. 4 shakespeare plays left to go

[rutadales]

Stages?

👀

STAGES IS MY BABYYYYY i love writing about grief and loss of self, and how to cope with that. C!Dream is perfect for that type of analysis. It started bc I really wanted a way to explore dream and bads relationship and their similarities. They both lost their families and both believe that what happened to them was mostly self inflicted. there's a lot to explore there. And of course I love rivals duo and also wanted to write a scenario where techno isn't able to repay the favor. And, ya know, healing and growing together is such a good trope.

I already have the first chapter posted on my AO3 but I've written so much for this fic but still never managed enough to finish another full chapter ughhughhuh. I've also posted some of this fic here but there are so many nuggets I've written that I'd love to share (sorry all my excerpts are so long 😭😭)

"I can barely walk, I can't fight-! I'm helpless. I'm at everyone's mercy and I hate it." His hands are shaking, the pencil moving like a record needle— up and down and up and down— in his weak grasp. Dream wants to steady it but can't, hasn't been able since Quackity's first visit, and he hates that too. His body isn't his anymore. It's a malfunctioning tool, but there's no fixing it. No quick repair. There's no fixing him.

Nothing can cure him, not potions, not time, not XD. He's broken, plain and simple. And all that's left is crossed wires.

A hand lays over his own and Dream looks up into Techno's eyes. His hand still tremors underneath the warm grasp, but it hurts less, now.

"You're not helpless, Dream. You're not. You're just changed, and I know that hurts. And I know I can't fix that but let me make it a little easier for you." His voice chokes on the last syllable, the emotion making it crack.

Sweat pools on the back of Dream's neck as he quickly adverts his eyes. A million thoughts run through his head, seeing Techno's care so plainly on display. He can't bring himself to pull away though.

"I don't get it." It's an admission he wouldn't make normally, but Dream wants to understand at least this about Techno, if nothing else. "You've more than repaid the favor, you don't owe me anything anymore."

"Yes, I do." Techno says, so quietly Dream is half convinced he didn't hear it at all, before Techno continues as if he hadn't said anything to begin with. "When are we just going to admit we're friends, Dream? We can be that to each other, you know."

Now, he does pull away, just barely. Their hands touch still, if only slightly, and the contact burns.

"Fine," Techno speaks, not with anger or frustration. "I'm doing it because I'm selfish. I like having you around, and keeping you healthy makes that easier. Not to mention you're skinny enough to be one of Phil's scarecrows. We can hang you out in the fields and you'd scare all the crows off, nice and easy. That's why I'm doing this, for the good of my crops."

Dream furiously ignores Techno's smug smile when that draws a laugh out of him, but it doesn't get rid of the pit in his stomach. Dream knows what happens to his friends.

He doesn't want that for Techno.

[yourcalamity]

im about to have such a potent opportunity to disappear into the woods forever it itches

[silhouettecrow]

365 Days of Writing Prompts: Day 209

Adjective: Voracious

Noun: Churchyard

Definitions for those who need/want them:

Voracious: wanting or devouring great quantities of food; having a very eager approach to an activity

Churchyard: an enclosed area surrounding a church, especially as used for burials

[wambsgender]

.

[noxtivagus]

tonight i think i've just been jamming to music

[strwbrymlkshake]

I don't think I've ever been in a relationship this healthy before I don't know what to do 💀

[everyfandomever]

I made myself sad :(

[excusemebutiquit]

It’s interesting

[inkskinned]

kids remind me, often, of the things i've taught myself out of.

i have a big dog. he looks like a deer. he is taller than most young children. while we were on a trail the other day, a boy coming our direction saw us and froze. he took a step back and said: "i'm feeling nervous. your - your dog is kind of big."

goblin and i both stopped walking immediately. "he is kind of a big dog," i admitted. "he's called a greyhound. they are gentle but they are pretty tall, which is kind of scary, you're right. their legs are so long because they are made for running fast. i am sorry we scared you. would you like us to stand still while you move past us, or would you feel more safe in your body if we move and you stay still?'

"oh. i didn't know that about - greyhounds. i think i ... i want to stay still," he said. at this point, his adult had caught up to us. "i'm nervous about the dog," he told her, "so i'm - i'm gonna stay still." she didn't argue. she didn't make fun of him. she just smiled at him and at me and held his hand while goblin and i, with as wide of a berth as we could make, crept our way through.

behind us, i heard him exhale a deep breath and kind of laugh - "he was really big, huh? she said it's because greyhounds have to go fast."

"he was big," she said. "i understand why that could have made you a little scared."

"yeah. next time i - next time do you think i could maybe ask to touch him? when - i mean, next time, maybe, if i'm not nervous."

later, going to a work event, in the big city, i stood outside, trembling. my social anxiety as a caught bird in my chest. i took a deep breath and turned to my coworker. she's not even really my friend yet. i told her: "i feel nervous about this. i am not used to meeting new people, ever since covid."

she laughed, but not in a mean way. she said she was nervous too. she reached her hand out and held mine, and we both took another deep breath and walked in like that, interlinked. a few people asked us - together? - and i told the truth: i feel nervous, and she's helping. over and over i watched people relax too, admitting i feel really kind of shy lately actually, thank you for saying that.

the next time i go to an event, and i feel a little scared, i ask right away: wanna hold hands? this feels a little dangerous. i hesitate less. i don't hide it as much. i watch for other people who are also nervous and say - it's kinda hard, huh?

i know, logically, i'm not good at asking for help. but i am also not good at noticing when i need help. i've trained myself out of asking completely, but i've also trained myself to never accept my own fears or excuses. i have trained myself to tamp down every anxiety and just-push-through. i don't know what i'm protecting myself from - just that i never think to admit it to anyone.

but every person on earth occasionally needs comfort. every person on earth occasionally needs connection. many of us were taught independence is the same thing as never needing anything.

each of us should have had an adult who heard - i feel nervous and held our hand and asked us how we could be helped to feel safe. no judgement, and no chiding. many of us did not. many of us were punished for the ways that we seemed "weak".

but here is something: i am an adult now. and i get nervous a lot, actually. and if you are an adult and you are feeling a little nervous - come talk to me. we can hold hands and figure out what will help us feel safe in our bodies. and maybe, next time, if we're brave, we can pet the dog that's passing.